Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Finished with a hectic work day, you throw yourself on the couch and beg for it not to give in when you hear it creak. Just as the rest of your home, it's old, worn, and needs replacing. You let out a sigh and bask under what little calm you can find between the worries of a dead-end job and your child recently going missing. 

Many accused the disappearance on your lack of care and overall irresponsibility as their parent, while others blamed it on the myth of monsters existing near the place you suspected they last went to. The first of these assumptions you accepted and blamed yourself constantly for, yet the second of the two was near impossible to even be an option to begin with. Monsters were far away from your village; they were told to be sealed inside the Underground close to Mt. Ebott, and nobody had heard of them in centuries. It was highly unlikely for them to exist there and much less on the Surface, yet there were still some who believed in that myth nonetheless.

Alone in your home, you can only stare at the blank wall before you and think back on the last day you saw Frisk. 

...

"I'm home!" you hear them call, followed by their footsteps thumping against the floorboards.

They make it to the kitchen and throw themselves at you; their arms wrap around your neck and pull you into a hug. Smiling, you return the embrace, pull back to look down, and meet with their eyes. "Did you say goodbye to Auntie Brenda before leaving?" you ask, tucking a stray lock of hair behind their ear. Their bob and bangs had grown longer and many neighbours said it made them look like a girl, but Frisk never minded over those comments and always insisted on keeping their hair that way.

"Yup!" they reply, taking a seat next to yours. "We're… We're gonna spend the whole weekend together, right?" 

"Of course we are, honey." You chuckle upon seeing the worry in their eyes, these holding hope over a positive response on your part. "But first, we've got to study up on History," you add, "Remember you've got a test the day after tomorrow." You pinch their cheek and kiss it better, making them grin and burst into giggles. 

Then, you stand up and head to the living room, where you stop by the bookshelf already covered in a thin layer of dust despite its frequent use. Your eyes scan for the book you'd been recently reading with them, only to find it hidden at a corner, most likely an idea on their part in hopes of delaying their studies for a while. "We'll go over the last chapter. And after that, we can plan what we'll do for the weekend." You turn to them and smile, bumping the book against the top of their head. "But only if you don't try to hide your books away anymore. I know you like school and pay attention all the time, but that still doesn't excuse you from studying up at home."

You walk to the couch, sit down, and see their smile fade away when you open the book to one of its later chapters. It was far away from the one you were currently on, yet based on the look on their face, they seem to know what it's about, an assumption that grows stronger when you remember how one-sided the book in your hands is. Frisk was never fond of the stories it told, yet they never had the courage to go against its written words, either. Now, however, you have a hunch over them about to confront that when you see them frown and later open their mouth to speak up.

"Why do you believe what this book says? It… It says mean things about monsters! Haven't you ever been curious to know what they're all really like?"

You look down at the open book and give some thought to their words. Its borders are worn out and the pages are turning a soft shade of yellow, most likely due to the centuries that'd gone by since it was first published. 'The War Between Us' was its title, yet even though it said 'us', the author was biased at times; in more ways than one. It seemed that the more you analyzed it, the more you regretted having believed these stories when you were younger and having thrashed the possibility of beings like them ever existing. The question you've been given adds to your regret, so you pause and take a quick moment to reconsider.

Deciding it's best to think of a proper response, you flip the pages back to the first chapter and gesture for Frisk to join you. You push your glasses up to the brim of your nose and begin to read the first page.

>> Long ago, two races ruled over the Earth: HUMANS and MONSTERS. One day, war broke out between the two races. After a long battle, the humans were victorious. They sealed the monsters underground with a magic spell...

You flip past the introduction page, having already memorized it ever since you were seven.

>> Those undergrounds, located near Mt. Ebott, are said to be a dangerous place. It is said that those who climb the mountain never return. Many have taken this warning as a joke, yet none have actually dared to step foot on those grounds. Due to this fear of the unknown, many began to form theories as to what happens to those who travel to those lands. These have varied from such a simple thing as being unable or unwilling to leave, to something as dark and fearsome as death.

>> It is said the monsters residing in this place were not only strange in appearance, but in their actions and customs, as well. Likewise, it is said their way of reproduction is also odd, as it is through their SOULS that they may create another life, and that the way of ending their lives is through the same means. Besides showing their vulnerability through their SOULS, they show it through their words. They advise others to show 'MERCY', as well as to 'SPARE' their enemies whenever possible. 

>> However, many experts on the topic have agreed these are only myths; bedtime stories meant to dull and straighten up a child's behaviour, to frighten them over what is black and what is white, and to keep them strictly in the latter. It is impossible to believe such narrow-minded and saint-like creatures ever existed, unless it is to dumb down our mindsets and persuade us to be kind to a fault, without ever even questioning why it is said that those who fell into their world never came back. After all, it is without a doubt unrealistic and near impossible for people to cohabit in one same world without causing some form of hurt between each other. It is the same reason why these creatures were said to lose a war with our kind, and why we must avoid being weak and preachy like them; to prevent the same from ever happening to us.

You close the book with one swift move, deciding you already have the answer to your child's question.

"Y'know, I… I guess you're right, honey." You sigh, face your lap, and close your eyes, already having a taboo thought at the tip of your tongue. "I've only ever read this book regarding their history. If only I knew more about them, or maybe had another book from a new, different perspective... Then, maybe... Maybe I could know if both sides had their reasons for war, and why we still study them through this book only."

Just as they're about to reply, an unintelligible shout erupts from one of the nearby houses. The sound of porcelain hitting the ground and of people arguing with one another can be heard, and right after, an eerie, yet recognizable silence takes over. Already expecting the worst, you let out a shaky sigh, stand up, and finally gather courage to inspect what's going on outside the safety of your home.

"Stay here, Frisk. I'll be back soon."

…

You never saw them again after that day, and that was almost a full month ago. Your eyes have turned irredeemably red and puffy from how long you've cried and mourned over their loss, though you've tried to keep it to yourself as much as possible. Even so, a few things had been leaked regarding your situation. Nosy and loud neighbours meant trouble, and you already had enough with Social Services and Frisk's school constantly breathing down your neck.

The more days passed since their disappearance, the more rumours revolved around you. A silent argument over the hints left behind of Frisk going missing formed, and it shows itself through the tense state of those around you, these split into two groups. Tension's risen between those who blame you and those who blame Mt. Ebott, yet you don't want to favour either side. Simply solving the situation and having Frisk in your arms again was enough for you, even if they were taken away from you by Social Services the day or even the hour after.

Hearing your stomach growl, you shake your head, finally realizing you're becoming too immersed in your own thoughts.

Dinner wouldn't make itself, and though you hated cooking only for yourself almost as much as you loathed the absence of your child and the silence of your home, you have to stand up, dust off, and keep on going.

Fairy tales weren't real; monsters weren't, either. In other words, Frisk's all alone in the world now and nobody's gonna help besides you. Whatever happened to your child, they were most likely suffering or in great danger, and for once, you can't help but wish over the Underground to be real in spite of the myths told about it. Perhaps then, you could have some sense of direction and an idea over just where Frisk could be; and perhaps then, they wouldn't be alone at the knowledge of monsters providing them with shelter and company until your arrival.

Perhaps then, you could rest a bit easy without crying yourself to sleep every weekend with the reminder and the remnants of a broken promise, one you feared would never be fulfilled.

Chapter Text

Your phone lights up and buzzes erratically, waking you up and forcing you to get out of bed when it proves to be too far away for you to reach it. The screen marks an unholy five thirty five in the morning, and you can only wonder over what your aunt wants to discuss with you at such an early hour. There's around two urgent voicemails, eleven text messages, and three missed calls, all from her, so you decide on phoning her back to get things over with.

She answers fast, hardly giving the phone a chance to beep once.

"Turn on the TV right now, honey," your aunt shouts, an indistinguishable emotion between anger and shock displayed in her voice. "Now," she repeats, authority shown in that single word. "And don't forget to call me later. We need to talk." She hangs up after that, leaving you with more questions than you once had.

You raise a brow at the oddity of her call, yet relent with how tired both your mind and body feel. You'd left work at eleven at night, only to arrive home at midnight and fall asleep at one. With barely five hours of rest in your system, you don't exactly feel motivated to watch television, yet that changes when you sit at the edge of your bed, turn it on, and see the first thing there is a breaking news report taking over every cable channel present. No matter which one you switch to, it's there, reporting over the rise of a whole new species of living beings, these capable of human reasoning and conduct, as one of the reporters and even a scientist so claimed based on the little information they've both gathered about the species already. They proceed to display a picture of a large crowd of people gathered near a mountain, these looking straight out of a fantasy novel. They vary greatly, from bipedal, anthropomorphic fish, bears, bunnies, goats, and spiders, to living skeletons, ghosts, and live, humanoid flames. You have to rub sleep away from your eyes and blink a few times to process what's going on, until you see who's standing smack in the middle of them all.

"F- Frisk?!" you shout, breaking the silence of your home and the night.

Almost immediately, you pick up your phone and search for more information on where and when the picture was taken. The sun seemed to be setting in it, and based on when the news had chosen to report on the event, you figure Frisk has to be with that group somewhere around. You access the news channel's main page and see a pinned post asking for information on the child's parents, comment section blocked to prevent a flood in them, along with the share button to keep any second parties from spreading it around more.

>> A goat lady by the name of Toriel has taken Frisk under her temporary care while authorities regain contact with the child's parents. If anyone reading this post happens to know about their location, number, or any other contact information, please do let us know over at private message, so that we may interview them personally. We have searched far and wide for more thorough information on the child, but Child Protective Services have settled upon keeping that information private, while the child refused to tell us anything else after they found out over what penalties their parents would be receiving. They insist that their primary caregiver is a good person, that they do not know about their secondary caregiver's whereabouts, and that they will not allow anything bad to happen to either of them, refusing to so much as give up their last name to us as a result. However, we are still in dire need of said information in order to interview the parents and perform more proper investigations as to why the child disappeared for a period of almost two whole months.

Below the basic gist stands a shorter paragraph and a photo of a different monster, this one a skeleton instead of a goat woman.

>> In addition to the goat lady offering to look after Frisk for the time being, another monster has reached out to us and left his number only specifically for the parents. He states it is necessary they meet and that he would like to offer an explanation as to what happened at the Underground and how Frisk got there. If you are one of the parents, please contact us through private message so that we may provide you with his number and further directions on what to do from there.

You check the time of the post, lock your phone, and set it aside when the news returns from a commercial break, this one much shorter compared to usually. 

"Passerby say it sounded similar to that of a bomb going off, yet there were no signs of destruction and nobody near when they made it to the place where they heard the noise. It's estimated the Barrier broke at late evening, and that the monsters left with Frisk barely an hour after that event, without bothering to inform anyone over the missing child's arrival. Authorities claim they've yet to gain contact with Frisk's secondary caregiver and that they are now on their way to contact their primary one. Given the circumstances and the current hour, Child Protective Services believe it best to visit at noon, as they have already tracked down the parent's location and received further information on the subject through social media. That's all we've managed to cover so far, but remember to stay tuned for more at-"

“I'm home!”

Your eyes shoot open and you almost have to double take when you hear that voice. It's followed by a few persistent knocks on the door, though you still go as far as to check the pulse on your wrist to make sure you're still alive. You turn the television off, hop out of bed, and rush over to the living room, where you're greeted with the sight of Frisk standing by the entrance and looking around, their own set of keys balanced on their finger as they take in their surroundings. They continue to look this way and that, observing the changes you've made to the house since they were gone. 

They meet with your eyes and freeze up, taking a small, precautionary step forward. "I… I missed you," they mutter, voice soft and quiet, a large difference from when they announced they were back home. They fiddle with their hands and face at the floor, casting a guilty look at the worn welcome mat as they say, "I'm sorry for… for disappearing like that. But I promise I-"

Before they can finish speaking, you've already made it to their side. Your arms wrap around them and you bring them in for a strong and lasting embrace, tucking their head against your chest, squeezing them tight, and allowing them to listen to your heart beat. "Oh, sweetheart, forget all that," you reply, stroking their hair and kissing their forehead. "I… I missed you, too." You hold them tight and let some of your worries out through another squeeze. It feels almost bizarre having them in your arms again, but it feels right all the same. Every puzzle seems to fall right into place, and the only thing in your mind right now's their well-being. "H- How are you, by the way?" you ask, breaking the hug apart. "Are you hungry? ...Sleepy? And who brought you here? Did they treat you well?"

"I'm okay," they reply, giggling. "Miss Toriel made me some food before we left, and I'm way too pumped to even think about sleeping!"

"And where is Miss Toriel?"

"She left right after we got here. She said she didn't want to bother you now that I'm back, and that you could meet up with her some other time!"

You hug them yet again, still too stricken to let go of them. "I'm… I'm so glad you're back home, dear," you whisper, holding them close as you mutter more sentences with similar sentiments to the previous one. You still can't shake off your shock nor can you believe this is real. The rational part of your brain insists it's no time to be emotional and that you need answers stat, though the emotional part demands you pour all your attention onto the moment and appreciate Frisk's return. You'd cried countless hours, days, nights, and weeks. And all of that pent up regret, confusion, and relief begins to be let out through whispered words, strong hugs, and gentle caresses. "I… I thought you were gone for good, dear, an- and that you left because you hated me." You hiccup at that last statement and hold them tighter, fearing another disappearance. "I'm sorry if I ever made you feel bad about me being your parent. And… And I'm sorry for anything I might've done to upset you. I- I'll try to be a better parent for you from now on, and you can tell me over where I can improve. Alright?"

Frisk breaks the hug apart and faces up at you with a frown. "What are you saying? I don't hate you!" they reply, gaze furrowed and eyes wide. "I… I was thinking about something else that day. B- But it has nothing to do with you. I promise!"

"Then why did you disappear?" you ask, placing a hand over their shoulder and maintaining your frown. "Why did you run away? ...And just what do you mean by that? What were you thinking about before you disappeared?"

Looking caught, they face the floor and fiddle with their hands again. "...Can we talk about that later? I think I'm feeling sleepy now."

Your glare finally shows through, the rational part of you taking over now. "Don't you dare change the subject, Frisk. What did you mean by that? What happened before you disappeared?"

"Please! I can tell you later," they whine, tears welling up in their eyes. "I- I don't wanna talk about that right now. I miss you. And I… I really wanna be with you right now. I really miss my home, I miss studying with you, and I... I miss going out on weekends with you, too."

You straighten your posture, cross your arms tight, and frown, still unconvinced. "Can you promise me you'll tell me first thing tomorrow, after we catch up today?"

Slowly, they nod. "I promise."

"Pinky promise?"

Frisk smiles bright and wide at your suggestion and at the gesture you make, pinky finger offered out to them. They interlock theirs with yours and let go when you both nod, sealing the deal. "I promise. Could we go watch a movie now?"

"Didn't you say you were sleepy?"

"I sleep better with the TV on!"

"Yeah, right." Despite yourself, you giggle and smile at them. Then, you place a hand on their head and mess up their hair, poking your tongue out when they glare at you. "Let's go, then. Just... Remember me to call my boss so I can take the day off today and go to work a bit later tomorrow."

"...Can you really do that? I thought you could get fired for that!"

"Probably not." You laugh. "But you're my main and only priority right now. And I can just try to find another job after all this's over with."

You offer your hand out to them and lead the way back to your bedroom when they take it. Your heart's still racing and you've yet to acknowledge the fact they're finally back with you, though your happiness continues to persist through it all; they're here and that's all that matters right now. Worry would come in later.

"Why did you move the TV to the bedroom, though?" they ask, halfway through your destination.

You squeeze their hand and stare down at them, managing a guilty and meek smile. "I, uh, might've... borrowed your dad's Netflicks password, and tried watching some movies since you went missing. I could barely sleep at night, so I just tried distracting myself by finding something new to watch." You let go, finally reaching the door of your bedroom. "I also made sure to tidy up your bedroom once a week, just in case you ever came back, so it's all nice and clean if you want to go there later," you say, smiling. "But... I'm guessing you'd want to be with me for awhile now?"

They nod, not an ounce of reluctance present in their actions. "Definitely!" They flinch back and giggle when you kiss their cheek as a response, "Can I, really?"

"As long as you fulfill your promise, then yes. You can stay in my bedroom for as long as you want, dear."

"But didn't you say I was a big kid just last year?"

"Yes, but I…" You chew on your lip and blink back tears, their return finally dawning on you. "I missed you too much to care about that right now."

You turn on the television and access Netflicks, putting on a movie and climbing into bed. They do the same and rest their head against your lap, cuddling against you. You both stay that way for the entirety of the movie, with them close and with your hand on their head, stroking their hair until they fall asleep halfway in.

When you're sure they're out like a light, you allow yourself to cry again; tears continue to go down the more time you spend with Frisk close to your side.

They were back.

Your prayers had been answered, and now you wouldn't have to lay awake at night, feeling guilty and mourning over their loss for hours on end.

Hopefully, Child Protective Services and Frisk's school would go easier on you now; despite what you said about not minding if they were taken away after their return, you do care. Now that they're back in your arms, you can't imagine not having the right to visit them again; a world without them. At that thought, sorrow overflows your mind and you find yourself crying quietly during what's left of another movie, uncontrolled yet quiet as you try not to wake or worry Frisk over your state. You needed to be strong for their sake and for your own as well, if the time to part ways from them ever became a reality.

That's the last thing you think of as you close your eyes, exhaustion finally taking your body for itself. Faint murmurs of an ongoing movie are the last things you hear and the sight of Frisk sleeping peacefully on your lap is the last thing you see. It all feels right, yet not; cherishing these final moments is the only thing you can do for now.

Chapter Text

"Please, let me through, child."

"Not if you're gonna take me away!"

"I'm not. We just need to talk."

"I'm still not gonna-"

You step in before the conversation escalates. Your hair's tucked back with a headband in order to mask a bed head and your mouth's covered with the palm of your hand to block away morning breath.

"Good morning," you intervene, seeing one of the social workers waiting behind the door, this one left ajar and kept blocked by the chain lock. "Could you allow me a few minutes to go freshen up, please? I apologize for not waking up sooner, but it looks like my alarm didn't go off." You cast a subtle, accusatory look at Frisk, who averts from your gaze just as you're about to question them over it. "Did you turn it off by any chance, dear?"

"...Maybe." They meet with your eyes, pouting as they continue with, "And I'm sorry. But you looked really, really tired, so I didn't wanna wake you!"

"Please go ahead and finish your morning routine, Mx. Gonzalez," the man behind the door intervenes, face remaining stoic. "I'll take it from here while you're done."

"That's my dad's last name," Frisk exclaims, grinning. "They're not married to him anymore!"

"Frisk," you snap, teeth gritted. "Stop telling everyone that." A deep, tired sigh escapes you, mind brought back to when they used to say that phrase whenever someone called you that way. Sometimes, you could tell it was simply to correct the person who said it, while at other times, you felt as if Frisk was quite frankly trying to matchmake you with a person they deemed fit to be their new, second step parent. "I apologize for all… this," you add, unlocking the door and allowing the man inside. "I worked overtime last night until eleven, and then Frisk came home at six in the morning, so it's been a bit hectic ever since then."

The man -- built, dark skinned, clean shaven, and apparently named C. Bubbles based on the name tag clipped to his suit -- only nods in response, his role on the CPS team marked down right below it. Sunglasses shield away his eyes, making his already dignified stance more effective. Still, he softens up when he meets with the child's bright gaze and the tidiness of your home, both sights seeming to ease out the tension he carried with him previously. He sits down at the couch while Frisk joins his side, though not before offering him something to eat and drink, as you so often taught them to do with visitors. He appears surprised at that, though only briefly. "Water's fine, child," he says, breaking out a faint, barely catchable smile. "Thank you."

Your worries lessen a bit with that display and you're able to run off to the bathroom to freshen up. You can hear when Frisk hands him over the water and how they start up a conversation, helping you gain some time to get ready. "Did you really mean it when you said you're not gonna take me away from my parent?" You keep your hand loose over the doorknob, not wanting to enter the bathroom until you hear the man's response.

There's a sudden beat of silence before anything happens, though it's soon broken when he says, "As long as this house is a home to you and that you will prosper in it, I see no reason to take you away from them." His voice quiets down, and you have to take a few steps away from the bathroom to hear him, who continues with, "To let you in on a secret, our team is…"

You can't hear anything else besides that, his voice now lowered down to a brief and unintelligible whisper. 

It's hard not to be disappointed, yet you digress, open the door, and step into the bathroom, where you brush your teeth, wash your face, and finish off with a look in the mirror, observing the circles under your eyes. They're awfully noticeable and it's no wonder over why Frisk decided to leave you sleeping for a couple of more hours. There's not much of you that looks ready to face the day, almost two months of fretting over their disappearance being manifested through poor health. You'd stopped doing exercise out of sheer exhaustion from working overtime, both out of choice and as a necessity for both emotional and financial means.

Those two months composed themselves of long hours spent in front of a computer screen and sitting in an office chair, resulting in the slow deterioration of your eye sight and an increment on the overall pudginess of your body. You can't see any farther than the mirror in front of you without the rest of it becoming a blur, and a few clothes have grown tight on you despite barely having had much time or motivation to eat anything besides lunch at that time, sometimes a snack depending on how strong your worries were that day. Stress acne and scars of past ones decorate your face all over, as so does a distinctive dishevelment when you take off your headband. 

You're a mess, though you hope to look less like one now that Frisk is back.

With a sigh, you back away from the mirror and proceed to finish off the rest of your morning routine. You do all except take a full shower, not having the time to with the reminder of the social worker still waiting for you at the living room. As a result, you shower only from the waist down and finally throw on the most decent set of clothes you can find when you head over to your bedroom.

When you make it back downstairs, Bubbles is sitting down with Frisk at the dining room, smile made more prominent now as he chats with them and takes a few breaks to eat from the plate set out in front of him, composed of fried eggs, sauteed vegetables, and buttered toast. Frisk has a serving of their own, and there's one more plate left out next to them, presumably for you. They wave at you and encourage you to join them and the man, both who smile at you when you accept.

"Did you cook this on your own, honey?" you ask, smile showing only to fall back into a frown barely a second later. "...You didn't use oil, did you?"

"Miss Toriel taught me how to cook stuff without oil!" they explain, taking a bite off an egg. "I used butter to cook the eggs and lil' bit of olive oil for the vegetables." Something sparks in their eyes as they add, "I... I really wanted to learn how, because oil love you!"

Bubbles covers up a chuckle with a hand over his mouth and a harrumph. He stays quiet after that, allowing you time to respond to their sudden play on words. "Oil love you, too, dear." You bite back a grin and poke a vegetable through your fork, bringing it to your mouth. "So I'm guessing she was your main caretaker at the Underground?" You chew and gulp fast, eager to hear their response. 

"Yup. And a bunch more other monsters, too! You need to meet them sometime," they say, picking up their plate and the man's when they're both done. "But... What about you, mister Bubbles? Do you wanna meet them?"

"I'm obligated to if your parent will be allowing them to care after you," he replies, smiling. "But yes, I'm... quite interested in meeting them after what you've told me."

"...So does that mean Frisk won't be taken away?" you ask, heart racing. Though you already have an idea as to what his answer could be, you're still nervous; knowing of the common rumours spread about you and what led to Frisk's disappearance doesn't exactly help much with that, either.

Despite the sunglasses covering up his eyes, you can still feel when mischief flares in his gaze. He fights back a smile and watches as Frisk walks off to the sink, where they begin to wash both their dish and his. "Be patient. You'll have your answer soon," he says. "Though I'm sure you know it already, considering you were eavesdropping on us not too long ago." 

"Y- You noticed?" you sputter, almost choking on a piece of toast. Thankfully, Frisk's also left out a glass of orange juice for you, helping you out.

"No." He chuckles. "But it seems you've just confessed to it."

Feeling embarrassment already creeping on your shoulders, you can only manage a sheepish smile and look away, focusing on Frisk instead, who's already done washing the dishes and busy contacting someone on their phone. "So much has happened in so short," you say, voicing your thoughts out loud. "Now Frisk has a whole new lot of friends that even I don't know about, a phone with access to monster technology, and a big story to tell." You feel a sudden bitterness cling onto your heart, the feeling of being left behind reaching your doubts and insecurities over not being enough as their parent. "It... feels like they don't really need me anymore, so I can't really blame them, you, or anyone else if they feel like it's time they left me."

"They wouldn't let me in earlier ago, and yet you still think that?"

"That's just them still wanting to defend their parent as a default."

"And not because they truthfully care about you?" Something appears to dawn on him after he says that. His gaze looks around, whatever he's searching for unknown to you. "Where's their other parent, by the way? Even authorities haven't managed to track that man down."

"Jerry hasn't contacted us for months now. He came to visit weekly, then he started visiting monthly, but now I rarely see him anymore," you reply, letting a frown show through. "I tried reaching out, too, but honestly… He just didn't show up even during the time Frisk went missing."

A hint of sympathy crosses with his face, though he covers it up quickly and carries on with, "So if your ex ever shows up, I'd assume you don't want him around Frisk or your home anymore?"

You face your lap as you consider his question, sorting your thoughts out and setting your bias aside. "That's between him and Frisk." You sigh. "Even though I'd want that, if Frisk wants to continue seeing their father, then I won't try to stop them. I think, despite it all... Frisk still deserves to spend time with Jerry just as much as they do with me, even if I'm unwilling to forgive my ex husband for never showing up during all these stages."

Bubbles maintains a neutral expression and only parts his gaze from you when Frisk ends their call on the phone and approaches your side, picking up your empty plate and cup. They seem to catch on to your need for privacy and excuse themselves off to the kitchen again, where your conversation's partially drowned out by the sound of water running and plate scrubbing. The man frowns, taking off his sunglasses to finally reveal his eyes, warm and softened with concern. "So even though you don't forgive your ex husband and that the chances of him caring about Frisk are slim, taking into account he didn't contact you during the stage of your child's disappearance, you would still allow for him to visit Frisk again?"

You give a slow, reluctant nod and take in a breath, holding onto it. "As long as I'm there and keeping a watchful eye on Frisk, then… Yes." Your chest hurts, yet you try to push through it all. "Jerry can still visit Frisk as long as Frisk wants that, not the other way around."

Thunder rumbles from a distance and one look at the nearby window shows dark grey skies, sunlight barely in sight. Rainy season's soon to begin, and that meant constant, tropical storms all across the map. In contrast to previous years, you aren't prepared in the slightest for any natural phenomenon whatsoever. The last time you went grocery shopping showed to be long ago based on what Frisk made for breakfast; it was a meal far too mellow tasting for their taste buds, these having become more accustomed to the food you made and the sweets you baked for them on the weekends. It's no wonder over why they hadn't simply eaten a big bowl of cereal for breakfast instead.

"I believe I should get going now," Bubbles says, standing up from the dining chair. He smiles at Frisk and carries that expression back to you. "Shall we meet up next week, mx? My only assignment for you would be that you get to know Frisk's monster friends better and that you start distancing them from those who've hurt them." Then, he offers his hand out to you, waiting. "Do we have a deal?"

You take his hand and return his smile. "Of course," you reply, completing the hand shake. "If all of them sound as nice as Toriel... Then I'm sure this'll be easier to deal with." You glance over at Frisk, maintaining your smile. "Right, dear?"

To your surprise, their shoulders freeze up and it takes them a while until they nod in response. "Yeah," they mutter, nodding. "T- They've all been good to me!"

Bubbles seems to catch onto the sudden reluctance in their voice just as quick as you do, though another rumble and clash from the sky interrupts him from that observation -- thankfully. You walk with him to the living room and open the door, letting a cold breeze and the sound of soft rain through. "Your parent and I will be the judge of that," is the last thing he says as he dismisses himself from the house, leaving you to close the door behind him. 

When both he and his car are gone, you turn your attention back to Frisk and face them with a stern look.

"Are you okay, dear?" Your expression softens at the mere thought of them having been hurt by a monster; picturing it was far beyond your imagination. "What was that back there? Did…. Did any of those monsters hurt you?"

"N- No," they stutter, taking a step back. "I'm gonna go do some laundry now."

"Frisk, stay put. And don't you dare run away from th-"

They're gone before you can even finish your sentence, leaving you alone with a new worry over their well-being. So far, Frisk had only talked about Toriel and all the good things she'd done for them, along with the monster responsible for their phone and the one they became fast friends with; quite literally named 'Monster Kid', if you so remembered correctly. Not once had they mentioned anything about an ill-intentioned monster or anything bad about the goat lady they often described to you. Only good things followed after her name, so you search your mind for any other monster you can contact about the situation.

And then it hits you.

You access the news network's page again and send a private message asking them over the skeleton's contact information, providing proof about being Frisk's parent to make things go by quicker. The company responds in an instant, beating the record saying it took them an average of three hours to give a reply. They send you a full profile of the monster, along with a new picture of him.

Full Name: Comic Sans Serif; often goes by Sans

Monster type: Skeleton

Abilities: Teleportation; telekinesis

Age: 29

Gender: Male

Phone Number: XXX-XXX-XXXX

Email: [email protected]

Occupation(s): Past Royal Scientist; former Snowdin, Waterfall, and Hotland Sentry; former judge for the Judgment Hall.

Reason for contact: Would like to speak with Frisk's parents about what happened at the Underground.

...Is this for real?

You delete that message with how rude it sounds and simply go for it, reminding yourself of how ridiculous the situation is to begin with and that questioning the logic of a living skeleton with magical powers was pretty much simply wasting away your time right now.

Thank you for the information.

Did mister Serif agree to having all this information revealed to me?

Absolutely.

We provide our viewers with only the most updated and factual data we can find, so we consulted mister Serif over the information not long after we learned about him and verified it twice before sending it to you.

After he contacted us, we sent him that form and he agreed to fill in all of it.

Understood.

Thanks again!

So you were going to meet up with a past skeleton scientist and a former Underground sentry capable of teleportation, telekinesis, and most importantly and surprising of all that: human speech and conduct.

All things considered and with the prior knowledge you had about him, it wouldn't be that strange of a meeting.

...Right?

Chapter Text

meet me by the train station.

the place's bustlin' and tori's here with me, just in case you're worried 'bout meeting a stranger all alone.

That's surprisingly thoughtful.

And I'm guessing Tori means Toriel?

The goat lady who looked after Frisk?

yup.

she's gotta go deal with some legal stuff 'bout us living on the surface, so she can't stay for long.

but she'll still be here by the time you get there.

Hmm…

Now that just makes me more suspicious of you.

Tell me why it's important that only you specifically want to talk to me about this?

Doesn't Toriel know about what happened down there, too?

yeah, but…

i need to talk to you about somethin' else.

stuff that'll probably be a lil' difficult for me to explain, but that you should still know, being frisk's parent and all.

Now I'm curious.

I'm stuck in some traffic, but I should be there soon.

Would it still be okay with Toriel if I get there in the next ten to fifteen minutes?

textin' while drivin'?

My aunt chose to drive me here.

'Cuz she also said she doesn't trust the whole situation much.

heh.

alright.

tori says it's fine. she doesn't need to leave in the next hour so…

see ya soon, (l/n).

See you soon, mister Serif.

"How's he gonna know who you are if only you have a picture of him?" you aunt asks, eyes locked on the road. Her bright red nails, just as flashy as the rest of her outfit, glisten under the sun, fantasy jewellery and wrist watch doing the same. Her tanned skin almost glows with health in comparison to yours, yet to be healed from the past two months of tension and wait. There's also her signature and almost hair salon professional level of cleanliness when it came to grooming her hair, making her overall, outer appearance far more different and striking when compared to you.

"They're all over the news now!" Frisk says, answering her question before you can even word your thoughts out in mind, too busy noticing how much you've let yourself go in so short of a time.

You plug your phone to the car charger and meet with the side view of your aunt's face. "Like Frisk said. The guy I'm meeting says my face's been thrown out on the news a lot lately, so he already knows what I look like." You pull down the mirror and take a quick look at yourself, eye bags and stress acne now partially covered with a cheap foundation and expression made to look less tired thanks to a full eight hours of sleep. Still, you're far from looking anywhere near to the days before Frisk's disappearance or all the pictures displayed on the news, these from a similar time. All the stress and constant sorrow was still present on most of your features, from something as subtle as the loss of brightness in your eyes to something as noticeable as the drag in your walk and the small slump in your posture.

"Do I look okay, auntie?" you ask, taking advantage of a stop sign.

Brenda spares a quick but meaningful glance at you and a small smile manages to show on her face. She stays quiet even as her eyes go back to facing the road. At a second stop, this one caused by a red light, she looks at you again, saying, "Why are you so concerned about that, dear? I get wanting to look well and dignified for meeting new people, but this is the third time you've asked me today." She giggles when Frisk does, both apparently sharing the same thought. "You look fine, by the way. Though a bit of rest could do you good." The light changes and she carries on driving, slowing down and turning on the signal when she sees the train station to her left. "How many hours do you work, by the way? If you're still working overtime, you should stop that now. Not only for my dear grandchild's sake, but for you to get your long overdue beauty sleep."

"...Sixty hours a week?" you mutter, already anticipating a dramatic reaction from her. Even Frisk seems to notice your answer's not favourable enough to her, so they brace themselves by grabbing on to their seatbelt and pretending they're not paying attention to the conversation anymore.

Staying true to herself, Brenda almost slams the brakes just as she's halfway into parallel parking and snaps her gaze over to you, eyes wide and mouth agape. "What?!"

"Sixty a week," you repeat, louder now. "I had to get my mind off Frisk going missing somehow, so I... took that chance to save up some more by working overtime."

"That's fifteen hours too much, dear." She frowns. "That's either twelve hours a day for five days a week, or working non-stop every day for at least eight to nine hours! No wonder you look so stressed. What about your friends? Your family? Your coworkers?" She seems to notice why you've lowered your voice and does that herself, reminded over Frisk's presence at the back seats. "Oh, honey…" She sighs. "Did you really just work, eat, and sleep those two months they were gone?"

"...Maybe," you reply, looking away from her. "I just didn't know what else to do, and having free time for myself made me feel more guilty about it. The only time I sat down was to watch some TV for when I couldn't sleep at night."

Your aunt finishes parking and lets out another sigh. A gentler look crosses her eyes and she gives in, letting her body relax. "Do you have enough to get by? Please, be honest with me so I can help you out, okay?"

You smile back at her and nod. "I have enough now. I'm pretty sure I can get by with a regular schedule again."

"With weekends off?"

"With weekends off."

Her smile grows and she unlocks the car, allowing you to step out. "Be careful out there, alright? Just make sure to call me and I'll head back here straight away if anything strange comes up."

"Thank you, auntie. So I'll pick up Frisk at five?"

"Oh, there's no rush. You can always stay the night, anyway!"

After a nod, you get down from the car, open the back door, and climb onto the empty seat left next to Frisk. 

"See you later, dear." 

You kiss their cheek and look at the phone resting in their hands. There were plenty of questions you wanted to ask them, such as who was Alphys and how she'd gained enough knowledge to develop something with that level of technology, and why it still worked up here despite being programmed to function at the Underground. You remind yourself of the people waiting for you at the train station and wrestle those curiosities down, setting all questions aside for later. "Be good."

They nod, sign a "Love you!" with their hand, and hold you back to give you a yellow sticky note, folded in two. "Give this to him. And don't forget he can be unexpected sometimes!"

You sign an "I love you, too" back to them, take the note, and step out of the car, waving at them and your aunt before closing the door and pocketing the note away. It stays unread, and while you'd like to know what's written on it as well as the reasons for Frisk warning you about meeting with that monster in particular, they'd specified it was for more sillier reasons, like that of meeting up with a stand up comedian, or more frankly put: a clown or a court jester.

Now alone, you take out your phone and check the messages, a new one from 'Mister Serif' showing up.

hey, uh…

tori hadda go.

an emergency happened, so now she's gotta rush off to the department to see what's up with some documents she turned in.

i know this seems sus as hell, so just wait for me at a more open area.

stick to anybody you're comfortable with and we'll meet there.

I'm honestly touched at how much you're worried about this.

Though all that just makes me think I'm being catfished even more now.

Are you for real, mister Serif?

Can someone be as observant and thoughtful as you appear to be?

see for yourself.

>> Attachment - 1 image

You can't avoid being taken aback when the monster sends you a picture of himself. It's a definite recent one, given he's sitting by a bench close to the train tracks. He holds up a shaka sign with one hand and a coffee cup on the other. A grin decorates his face and the bright lighting shows the picture was taken just now, sun rays piercing through the windows.

I'm somewhat convinced.

need more proof?

Who are you, my Cinder match?

if u wanna.

Oh God.

You're killing me.

inna good way?

Perhaps.

You stop yourself when you realize you're on the verge of flirting with someone you haven't even met in person yet, let alone introduce yourself properly to. The picture he'd sent doesn't help either, as you can only begin to question yourself and your morals over having found him attractive for a split second. While it could have just as easily been the surprise of him sending a picture out of nowhere, it could've also been how laid-back he seemed in that picture, striking a shaka sign that made him look just like a surfer dude and a coffee cup to contrast with that vibe, adding a spark of the typical college student you saw at campus, his hoodie and sneakers only adding to that feeling.

It's then that you realize something's off.

If he was holding a cup with one hand and a sign in the other…

Then who took the picture?

Though you're pretty sure you're overthinking the situation now, you're still better safe than sorry and take advantage of your recent fooling around with him to pass that worry off as a joke.

Wait a minute, mister Serif.

yeah?

If you're holding a cup with one hand and striking a pose with the other, then who took the picture?

Or did you use your magic for that ?

a random dude who looked trustworthy enough took it for me.

he's one of those guys who're totally ok with us living here at the surface, so he just snapped the picture for me and even asked if it was for a date i was gonna meet and all.

no magic needed.

And I'm the President of the United States.

But, seriously now…

Are you for real?

100%

>> Attachment - 1 image

The picture displays him with a bearded, brown skinned man clad in a suit and holding a suitcase, looking ready for work. Still, his smile shows little to no seriousness and instead displays youth and content over having his picture taken with a potential friend. His height surpasses the monster's by half a foot, though when you compare it to the rest of the people in the background, it's clear Serif is simply shorter compared to the average human. You try not to let your eyes linger too much on the monster when you're done looking at the man, not wanting to fall into the trap of your mind having found him attractive earlier ago. Still, you can't help yourself and take a more thorough look at him again, seeing him now with his eye sockets closed, almost mimicking a pair of eyelids squinting in joy. His arm's hung over the man's shoulders, and vice-versa. 

i made a new pal.

"meet up already!" - his words, not mine.

Trying to be smooth, huh?

maybe.

is it working?

Somewhat.

But...

Strange Cinder date vibes aside,

I'm almost there.

aight.

can't wait to meet ya, bud.

You slip the phone back in your pocket and go up the stairs of the train station, stopping when you make it to the line of benches close to the tracks. True to his word, the skeleton sits on one of them and the man who'd taken a picture with him is now waving at him, seemingly saying his goodbyes and headed off to work. You approach the station one careful step after the other, pace slowing down more and more as you feel a sudden awkwardness slip on your shoulders.

Your texts sent off vibes you didn't want present now that you were about to meet him in person. You were still worried about what happened with Frisk a few days ago, and how their happiness pretty much froze when being asked if the monsters had treated them well during their time at the Underground. The one you were about to meet could very well be one of those who'd hurt them, so you brace yourself and try not to be swayed by the softer atmosphere present during your texting with him. You acknowledge the man who'd taken his picture with a wave and a smile back at him. Then, you continue walking and finally approach the bench.

"It's nice to meet you, mister Serif." You acknowledge him with a wave, unsure of how friendly you can be with him.

"Likewise."

He holds a hand out to you, bringing forth the warning Frisk had given to you about him.

Out of all the things Frisk had warned you about, it was to be careful around the skeleton, but primarily due to how he seemed to be the type to joke around and prank people often. One thing in particular you were warned about was in shaking hands with him, so right as he offers his hand out to you and just as you're about to reach out, you miss his hand, take a step closer, and pull him along for a hug instead. You then unfold the sticky note and press it against his back with enough pressure for him to feel it and let go when you're done.

"Frisk warned me about you, and even though they haven't told me anything I should be worrying about yet, I do know I should be careful for other reasons. And they told me to give that note to you, by the way."

You sit down and watch as the monster attempts to get the sticky note unstuck, his short height proving to be a disadvantage, as it also comes with shorter arms. He goes as far as to use his magic to get it out, leaving you to bite back a smile and wonder if you've been too rude with him just now. Still, you wait and keep your eyes on the train tracks while he reads the note you've left for him.

"Not gonna say anything about it?" you ask, surprised to hear nothing from him even as he slips the note in his pocket.

"Patience," he replies, words followed with a chuckle and continued with a wink. "Just take it as some friendly payback on my part -- Now we're even." He sits back down and meets with your eyes, his expression changing from humoured to stern at the drop of a hat. "So, what you're sayin' here is the kid hasn't said much about me yet?"

"No," you reply, hesitating. You fight between keeping a smile and a frown. "They've been awfully quiet after I asked them if there were any people down there who treated them badly." You catch yourself becoming emotional, so you breathe and blink a few times to fight that back. "It...  It feels like they shut themselves away from me, and now I'm not too sure about how to approach the situation anymore." You stop to catch your breath again, feeling yourself grow anxious already. "They can talk non-stop when it's about all the good things Toriel, Alphys, Papyrus, and… And even what you did for them, but whenever I ask if there was anything that made them feel unsafe, they… They bottle up and run off to do whatever chore there's left to do around the house."

A gust of wind helps freshen up your burning face, product of a train stopping nearby. You wait for him to speak up, body tensed all the while.

"Y'know, I…" The monster sighs, faces down, and rubs the back of his neck, looking lost in thought. "I think I can answer that for ya, but it's gonna be a bit of a long story." He glances at his phone for a moment, seemingly to check the time, and later adds, "Wanna head out somewhere to eat? We can talk about it there over food and drinks. Better than talkin' on an empty stomach, don't you think?"

Despite how somber the mood's become, that trademark grin of his you've already grown used to seems to stand out a lot more now, bringing forth a genuine, welcoming expression in addition to the offer he'd made to you. "Sure," you reply, smile returning. "And... Sorry for dumping all that on you all of a sudden."

You both stand up and make your way out of the station, walking side by side as you continue with the conversation. 

"It's cool, pal," he says. "I'd be a lot more worried if you didn't worry about it."

Chapter Text

Still disoriented by the hug, the skeleton finds it difficult not to spare a glance at the human every so often. Though the train's near empty and it allows for some space between him and (Y/N), he still feels too close to them. It was rare for people to find a way to pay back at him for his constant joking around, and he's quite frankly bummed over learning Frisk had told on him. Though he wasn't one to use the same joke on two different people, he wanted to go a similar route with at least one of Frisk's parents, just to see how much they were alike to their child. As results of his defeat, he can only try to strike up another conversation with them while the train makes it to his stop.

"Frisk told me they lived with you only," he says, breaking the ice. "How's it like being a single parent? If you're, well... single, I mean."

He almost wants the ground to eat him up and spit him back to the Underground with how blunt he'd been just now. And while it wasn't intentional, his question along with the text messages from earlier made him feel as if he was involuntarily flirting with the human. Thankfully, they don't show an immediate reaction, and when they do react, it's followed with a smile.

"It's a bit tough sometimes, but… I'd say as long as you raise your child well and that you enjoy what you're doing, then it can be pretty rewarding." Warmth softens their eyes and they appear vulnerable for just a moment. "I've raised Frisk on my own since they were a newborn, and it's been nice to see how far they've gone." The human stops talking to stare at him for a second; it's a second that takes far too long for his liking, and one where he feels as if he's being judged just as stern and ruthless as he once was during his time at the Underground. "Are you a father yourself? Your... question kind of makes me think that."

First the hug, and now this.

The kid's parent really knew how to give him frequent, near-death experiences, it seems.

"Uh…" Words stay stuck in his metaphorical throat, until he finally replies with, "No, but I hadda take responsibility over my bro when we were younger." He rubs the back of his neck and looks away from them, their eyes being far too attentive for his taste. "But I'd say it's nothin' compared to being a real parent, though."

"Don't sell yourself short," they say, nudging his shoulder. "I'd like to meet your brother someday. What's his name?"

"Papyrus -- the one you mentioned earlier."

"Do you have pictures?" 

It's almost impossible for him not to be amused at how excited they seem all of a sudden, yet he fights back a chuckle, not wanting for it to be taken the wrong way. He proceeds to search through his phone for a picture of his brother, stopping when he finds one with Frisk in it, too. "Here he is," he says, holding the phone out for them.

He scoots back as subtly as he can manage when they move a bit closer, ending the space of one seat once left between each other. Now, he sits right beside them, and he begins to wonder over how normal it is for a human to be this way; open and chatty. Surely, and just like how every other monster type was different in their own way, then humans had to have similar differences, too. As a result, Sans tries not to let their sudden proximity get to him and ignores the weird feeling in his non-existent gut when he meets a bit closer with their face, greeted with intrigued eyes and an equally curious smile. "He's so grown up already. I honestly thought he'd be younger based on what you and Frisk told me!"

They move back a little, finally allowing him space to let out a breath and contemplate just what was that weird feeling from earlier ago; the monster couldn't possibly have developed a crush already, and it was far too silly and farfetched to even think about. Simply fooling around a little through text and having them hug him to backfire his prank wasn't near enough for any sort of attraction to build up yet. He tries to tell himself that time after time again, though he can't forget the gentleness of their touch when pulling him in for that hug, nor can he ignore how blatant and bold he'd been with them through texts. Still, if anything had to be fueling those feelings of his, it had to be the sheer lack of contentment he'd been experiencing as of recent, deeming him more vulnerable when it came to making and maintaining new relationships with others.

Sans was down, and while he didn't want to admit it, he needed to go back to some sort of routine and professional counseling to get him back on track. Even Frisk had seen him at his worst at one point, going as far as to admit he'd given up, yet now he's here again, and with the company of their primary caregiver, to boot. The human's eyes stay on him even as he stores the phone away, incrementing the same strange feeling from before. 

"How do you feel being out here now?" they ask. "If you lived underground, I'm guessing up here's much warmer, right? …Or at least most of it, I expect!" They seem to recall something and take a quick moment to gather their thoughts. "Your contact information said you worked in Snowdin, Waterfall, and Hotland. Is… Is the name Hotland true to its name?"

"Very," he says, chuckling. "And Snowdin and Waterfall, too." He knows he's not making eye contact anymore, so he tries to look at them again, but can't bring himself to no matter how many times he tries. "That's actually part of what I wanted to talk to you about."

The human nods with a smile, signaling for him to carry on speaking. The monster finally manages to look at them directly, aware this was most likely the last time they would smile at him after he told the truth about all the stuff that took place back at the Underground. Surely, and just as he suspected was something they wanted to talk with him about, a parent wouldn't feel too fond knowing most of his kind had tried to hurt and chase after their child at one point. He's already anticipating an inevitable downfall in the barely-relationship he has with them, but that doesn't stop him from trying to make himself acquainted with them before any of that ever came to be a reality.

"I was wonderin' if you wanted to see what it's like down there," he says, setting those thoughts out to rest. "It could help you understand your kid's journey better, and you could also learn more about my kind, too."

When their smile grows, he almost feels a pang of guilt reach the very center of his ribcage. Knowing he'd hit it off well with them and knowing it wouldn't last long made him feel worse at every second he kept secret all the mistakes his kind made on their own. "I'd love to," they reply, eyes almost lighting up in joy. "So I assume you would be the one showing me there, then?" Sans nods and watches as they rummage something from their pocket, retrieving a notepad and pen; both are patterned with bunnies all over, a sight that makes the monster wonder if that stationary was a gift from Frisk. "That reminds me," they add, offering both items out to him. "Could you tell me if I'm missing anyone on this list?" He takes the items and ignores when their fingers brush with his, just as gentle as the hug felt. "It's supposed to be all the monsters Frisk made friends with there." 

"Sure," he says, flipping the notepad open. A grin returns to his face when he remembers just how many friends Frisk made back there, and how many more they would've likely made had they met the monsters on different terms, and had they stayed at the Underground for longer than they had. "It's gonna be one helluva list, though -- Kid made more friends than I can count."

They cover up a laugh, saying, "Didn't you used to be a scientist? I'm sure you know way more math than me."

"Maybe that's why it says past scientist 'stead of former?"

Though Sans had been joking around himself, he sees a frown fall on the human's face, a sudden change of expression followed by them shifting on their seat. "I'm sorry," they say, meeting his irises. "That was a rude question, wasn't it? It's… It's not exactly polite to bring up a stranger's past like that, isn't it?"

"I mean, yeah, but…" He pauses to observe their change in expression, far too concerned over something so trivial. "I'm okay with being honest, and that's exactly why I'm here, anyway." Their distressed expression stays intact, showing they barely took his words as true. "There's a lotta stuff I could've done and approached differently during my time at the Underground, and now I wanna change that." He doesn't know why he's running his mouth now, but one thing's for certain, and it's that he wants to keep on talking. If he was the judgment card out of all the major arcana, the human sitting next to him had to be either the tower or the hermit. "Maybe I can't tell you all about it right now, but there's a lotta stuff I need to clear up and come clean about before we can get to know each other better."

The train halts and the doors open, his stop finally marking itself on the screen. Only two of the few other people present stand up, and him and (Y/N) are the last two to exit. He walks with them side by side, continuing with the conversation until he finds the place he'd be inviting them over to.

Finally there, Sans goes with the human to a diner both Grillby and Muffet were jealous of, and just by stepping into the building, he can already tell why. It smells heavenly, its interiors look straight out of a home renovation magazine, and it's bustling with people, but it's still spacious enough not to make the surroundings feel stuffy or cramped. Most occupied tables have a room with a view sort of attraction, large glass panes allowing customers to observe the inner workings of the mall from the comfort of their seat and a cheap and warm meal. As a consequence, there's a couple of empty tables left farther away, these having the privacy of low lighting and no windows nearby, a spot more than adequate for the conversation he would soon have with Frisk's parent. He points at it with his irises and tells them to sit there while he goes to make both orders at the counter.

"Aren't we splitting the bill?" they ask, a hand already searching around for their wallet.

"I made the invite, so it's only fair I pay," he replies, winking at them. "Besides, after what we're gonna talk about here, you'll probably be mad enough to never talk to me again."

"How does that correlate with us not splitting the bill?" They quirk a brow, smile, and take a seat at the empty table nonetheless. "And who says that? We haven't even gotten to talk about anything too serious yet."

He laughs. "Believe me when I say the situation down there was a big ol', complicated mess." His gaze wanders to the counter, seeing only a line of two people waiting for their turn. "So here's to hopin' a lunch with you and treating you to it makes things a lil' bit less tense between us."

"You're trying to bribe me with food, is what you're saying?" Their smile grows and they relax on their seat.

He snickers. "Depends on how ya look at it, pal."

With that, he leaves the human at the table and goes off to the ordering line, setting the topic aside from his mind to focus on making the orders and taking the correct amount of currency used at the Surface. It takes no longer than five minutes for it to be his turn, though when it's time to finally say both orders, he freezes and so does the cashier when he looks at the table Sans had just walked out from. The name tag on the man's uniform shows to be a familiar last name; it's the only other last name besides (Y/N)'s found in Frisk's full name. 'Jerry', his first name reads, the owner of the name being a six foot tall hunk with tanned skin, plenty of muscle, blond hair, a sharp jawline, and every other feature one could expect out of the typical jock character seen in some American movies he often found thrown at the Underground's dumpster, source from where Alphys got her anime, Mettaton his glamour, and Napstablook their music.

The man's customer service smile falls to a near death stare when he meets with Sans's gaze, his glare and height enough to make the monster feel cornered.

"Is that them over there?" Jerry asks, pointing with his eyes over to where they sit at. "What's a guy like you doing with my ex?"

Sans grins, resists the urge to roll his irises, and lifts his gaze up higher, not wanting to be towered over by the man behind the counter. "What about you, buddy? That ex you're talkin' about, Frisk, and even CPS have been lookin' everywhere for ya. And now you jus' suddenly appear outta nowhere?"

"Oh, that's real damn rich coming from a guy who threatened my kid with death."

Oh.

Oh no.

Chapter Text

As if being blessed by Lady Luck herself, the owner of the establishment calls for Jerry to tend to unloading inventory, forcing him to end his glare on Sans and move his attention elsewhere. His internal conflict manifests itself through physical means, as he stays frozen in place to settle between keeping his job and minding his business with the monster. With another call from his boss, louder and firmer this time in comparison to the friendly reminder from earlier, he clenches his jaw and loosens it up with a scoff. "You're damn lucky the place's packed," he says, looking back towards Sans again. He takes a stray receipt from the counter, takes a pen, and scribbles something on it, handing it over to the monster when he's done. "Take this, and stay the hell away from my family."

"So like you're doing?" Sans counters, snickering.

"Screw off."

The man leaves him be with those last two words and another worker takes his place behind the register, looking fatigued from presumably having to deal with all the work at the back by herself. The expression on her face says it all: she overheard only some parts of the conversation, and was either curious to know more about it or misinterpreting the situation altogether, though she doesn't mention a word about it. Rather, she picks herself up and greets him with a smile. "Good afternoon, sir. For here, or to-go?"

That simple question settles a puzzle in Sans's mind; given he barely knew the human waiting for him at the table, he couldn't make any rash decisions, so he considers all the options through and through. He could make an easy escape from meeting with Jerry again simply by choosing to-go, yet he still wanted to talk with (Y/N) about the subject of Frisk and the Underground. Not only that, but ordering to-go without informing them about it wasn't something normal for how much they knew each other; rather, it would seem rude to decide without giving the human a chance to speak their thoughts on the subject. And if he invited them to eat their orders out elsewhere, it would look wrong; either like he really did mean his vaguely flirty texts, or that he didn't feel comfortable enough with them around.

"Sir?"

"To-go, please," he blurts out, it being the first thing on his mind.

The monster tells her both orders and is then asked to wait. He does so by walking off back to the table, where Frisk's parent still waits at, either completely oblivious of what went on at the register, or masking it based on their calm look and nonchalant sitting position. Their expression takes a turn when they meet with his irises, and they speak up when he's finally close enough for them to make their words hushed. "That was my ex-husband, wasn't it?" they ask, smile strained and brows furrowed. "Could we, uh… take our orders-"

"To-go?" he intervenes, chuckling.

Their smile loses some of its tension, and they let out a laugh. "How did you know?"

He sits with them at the chair across from theirs, nudging himself to an angle where he shields them from the ordering counter. "Between you saying he stopped visiting and that he didn't show up when Frisk went missing, I'd say you're not exactly head over heels for 'im anymore." 

"Far from it," they reply, sighing. "It's just plain ridiculous for him to be so worked up about this now. He had his time ages ago." They rock their fingers against the table's surface and frown, looking deep in thought. "What did he say, anyway? ...I tried not to look, but I still saw when he got all angry at you."

"It's related to what I want to talk to you about. Though I'm not sure how he got that info so fast."

Their eyes spark and widen, the hand on the table clenching the edge in expectancy. "So he already knows all about it?"

"Dunno if all, but it looks like he's already dug a lil' bit into my past."

A buzz from the human's phone brings a halt to the conversation. He looks to where the sound comes from before taking a look at their expression, clearly vexed by the name of the sender. Their hand trembles and he notices how they have to tighten their grip on the device to prevent its fall.

"Jerry?" he asks.

They nod. "Excuse me for a moment."

Sans nods back and observes as they stand up from their seat and walk off to a corner of the diner. The switch in the human's expression is almost immediate, changing from curiosity to shock the second they click on the message. The phone meets the floor and ends up making a noise far too loud for it to come out unscathed, results of a tiled floor and the device landing screen-first against it. Still, they don't seem to care over that particular matter and stare at the floor with those same, wide eyes, a look that's carried back to him. 

"You…" 

Their words come off in a hoarse whisper, and they have to scratch their throat to continue with, "Is this true? Y- You gave Frisk a death threat as a warning for… for what, exactly?" Their voice's louder now, surroundings seeming to blur into nothing given how little they care over being heard by those closer around. "They didn't hurt you, so why did you threaten to hurt them?" Their shocked expression changes to anger, a deep glare that refuses to falter even as they take a step closer, ignoring the phone laying on the floor. "And what did he mean when he said your job was to kill humans? What…. What did Asgore order you to do, and how come you're still allowed to run freely -- as you please? How much of this is true, and how much of this isn't?

They take a pause to pick up their phone, another buzz being heard from it. The screen's cracked from end to end, yet they don't seem to mind over that either and tear up when they read the latest message. "Is… Is that why Toriel had to leave out of the blue? Was she expecting something like this to happen to her, too?" The human's voice breaks, though they recover with another scratch of their throat. "Did she also hurt Frisk? How… How am I supposed to even be anywhere near you when you used to be a heartless man who followed ordered regardless of-"

"Please, ca-"

"Don't you dare tell me to calm down."

They huff, regaining some of their composure through it. "You have the next few minutes to explain why the hell your job as a sentry involved killing people regardless of their actions."

"(L/N), please liste-"

"Tell me."

They cross their arms and keep their glare on him. The phone continues to buzz, but they ignore it, all of their attention now being focused on Sans. An excruciatingly long beat of silence passes before he finally relents with a huff. They sit down, and he sits across from them, gaze facing theirs again. "What specifically do ya wanna know about?"

"What your job as a sentry implied. The rest can wait depending on what terms we're left with after this."

"Alright." He tries to smile in hopes of making their anger soften, though it's a vain attempt; a bad one, more specifically, taking into account how much angrier they get. "But could you promise ya won't freak out?"

"I'm afraid I can't. It all depends, really. Being told you used to throw death threats at innocent people doesn't exactly make me trust you any more than what I did a few seconds ago."

"But-"

"Order 44!"

He lets out a breath and proceeds to stand up. "Talk to you inna second? We can go to the food court and find a place there to eat."

"...Sure," they reply, a smile finally managing to return. "And thanks for helping me back there. I don't think I'd be able to tolerate Jerry coming up to me now of all times."

"Anytime," he says, winking. It's then that he realizes what he's done, an action made purely out of custom, though thankfully, they only show shock at having their thanks accepted rather than shrugged off.

Hopefully, his conversation with them wouldn't turn out as bad as he anticipated it to.

The time to confess over his own sins arrives when both the human and himself are finished eating. Only his drink's left resting on the table, theirs already long gone with how quick they downed it after the meal. Had their choice been alcohol, he would've imagined them tipsy, given they barely gave themselves much time to consume it or so much as enjoy its taste and temperature. They begin by asking how much of what Jerry had texted was true and over what actions the skeleton took when meeting with Frisk at the Underground.

The first few questions are simple enough and pass as smooth as his choice of drink, up until they ask, "So what exactly are you guilty of? Frisk told me to be careful around you, but in a fun sort of sense. And… And not because of you being dangerous or ever causing them any harm."

He breathes in, feeling obliged to brace himself for what he's about to say.

"I'm… guilty of not helping them out as much as I should've," Sans says, setting his drink aside. He already feels a tightness in his chest, incrementing when he continues with, "And there was one point where I might've come off too strong… Where I quite frankly told them to watch their back around me, and that I'd be there to handle the situation if it ever got outta hand."

"What kind of situation?" they ask, a change in tone already present.

"Hurting my kind." He sighs out a deep breath, letting himself find some sort of ease amongst the ache building up in his rib cage. It was too soon to be enemies with the human sitting across from him, and to be frank, he didn't even want to be on negative terms with them, either. He simply wanted to have another friend; another person he could look forward to spending his time with more often. "I... warned them about what would happen if they dared to do anything bad to other people, but in the least humane wording possible." He takes another sip from his drink, feeling his non-existent throat turn sore. "Frankly, and just like Jerry already told you: it's all true. I, well... I threatened Frisk with death, even though they hadn't harmed anyone during their journey down there."

"So it's all true? Even the part about your job being to basically hunt after humans, no matter what?" They stand up from their seat, hands slamming over the table on par with their shout. In contrast to the ire he anticipated from them, he sees the same shock from before in their eyes and an open mouth reveals their disbelief. "I… Y- You... You're not joking, aren't you?!"

Thankfully, they're both sitting at a table too far away for anyone around to take immediate notice of the human's reaction. That allows the monster to breathe out again and reply with, "It's the raw truth, cross my soul," he says, meeting with their eyes. "As a judge and main sentry for the Underground, I was meant to treat everyone equally, no matter their age, race, or any of that stuff. I judged based on actions; on the person's background and intentions. So when it was time for me to meet with a new person, I went all out, no matter the costs or repercussions of my actions, or the feelings I had about what I was about to do." Sans takes a long pause, needing some time to recollect himself. "To be brief, that was the job assigned to me, and one I was meant to fulfill no matter how that would affect my relationship with that new person I crossed paths with."

"Wh- Why?" they blurt, the anger he expected finally showing through. Still, they sit down, avoiding unwanted attention from other people. "Why did Asgore come up with that idea, a- and why did you go along with it? Why… Was there no other option? Or did neither of you two ever bother searching for one?" A wet gaze greets him when he makes eye contact with the human again, conflicting with their scowl and sharp, furrowed gaze. "Are all of you guys like this? H- How many of you are innocent, and how many of you hurt my child? Are Toriel and MK the only ones I can trust? Because if I'm going to follow along with what Frisk's told me so far, th- the only monsters that they've mentioned without any reluctance have been those two. They... They always freeze up every time I ask them about any other monster they made friends with." Their voice begins to shake and a few tears spill from their eyes. "I… I'm sorry if this seems like too much, b- But I need to know, Sans, I… I need to know who hurt them, and what I can do to protect them. I need to be strict, and I- I need to make up for those two months I wasn't able to be there for them."

Sans.

The human has been calling him 'mister Serif' for a good while now.

Out of all the possible ways and times they could've said his actual, first name, and it had to be during a moment of anger and confusion. He tries not to acknowledge just how bitter and dry his name had come out of their mouth and instead focuses on lending out a hand to them, both in a metaphorical and literal sense. He drags the chair a bit closer to them and hovers his body over the table standing between them, placing a hand on the human's shoulder and snapping them out of their spiral.

"(Y/N), please just... Just breathe, and calm down for a moment," he mutters, making them face his gaze, stern and sober. "This's why I wanna tell you everythin' bit by bit. There's a lot more to the story, and I know you wanna be a good parent for Frisk, so please, take a breath and hear me out. I won't ask you to forgive me, but for your time to listen to what I have to say, instead." He almost flinches when their hand touches the one he'd placed over their shoulder, though he combats that feeling by looking away for a quick moment to recollect his thoughts. "We have a whole history explaining why things worked at the Underground the way they did until recently," he continues. "And even though I know that doesn't mean all of our actions are justified, we still had our reasons, just as your kind -- your ancestors -- did for sealing us underground."

They let go of his hand, a subtle action that tells him it's time to let them go. He does just that and sits back down on his chair, taking another sip from the drink on his side of the table to combat the sour taste forming in his tongue. "I know I have absolutely no right in telling you to calm down anymore and that I shouldn't've even said it the first time. But I still want you to listen, so that you can help Frisk establish their new life with the other monsters at the Surface; with all the friends they made at the Underground, but also by knowing what some of those friends did and just who of us you can entrust their safety to." He offers his hand out to them, letting a smile ease out the grim aftertaste of his words. "So, whaddya say? Wanna hear me out? I promise to be honest with you, so long as you can promise to hear me and my kind out, and learn more 'bout our choices in the past."

"I…"

That's the only word he can hear from them as they stare at his hand, a wary glance being directed at it. "Could we hug it out again? I, well... still don't trust shaking your hand after what Frisk told me about you."

Though he hesitates for a second, he gives in with a grin and a nod. "Sure thing," he replies, chuckling. "C'mere, pal."

Sans stands up, and they do the same. 

They lean down to his height and let their arms sneak around his back, pulling him in for a second hug in just one day; on his first day meeting the human in person and on his first week here at the Surface, to be more exact. That same gentleness from before reaches his soul, enveloping him with a strong sense of safety, serenity, and warmth, despite the circumstances of it all. It was of no doubt that the person hugging him cared greatly for Frisk's happiness, almost just as much as they did for Frisk's safety. That shows through how willing they were to listen to him, how quickly they regained composure, and how welcoming their hug is, almost as if they were offering him a second chance to hear him out -- and just by the feeling of that hug alone.

"Thanks for being patient with me," he mutters, still kept in the hug. "I promise I'll try to provide you with as much information as I can." He lets go and finally stares at them again. "That sounds good to ya? Or are ya bored of me already?"

Tension eases out as the human lets a laugh burst through. "Sounds good," they reply, smiling. "And don't worry. I… I'm not bored of you yet -- Far from it, actually."

Chapter Text

With Sans being the first monster you’ve met, you figure it’s only natural to cross Papyrus off your list next. As strange as the first experience was and regardless of the slightly sour note you both ended on, you were becoming a bit more used to the sight of real-life monsters the more you bumped into them on your day-by-day. A week's passed, and you're still attempting to get Frisk to open up. And as impatient as you felt for wanting to know everything there was about monsters and the Underground already despite it being only seven days since the monsters arrived, you feel it’s more than necessary for you to know everything you humanly could for the happiness and well-being of your child; settling for any less wasn’t an option, as so wasn’t allowing yourself some slack from those responsibilities.

Having more trustworthy information at hand, your meeting with Papyrus arrives quicker than the one with his older brother, barely needing to take the same safety precautions as you did with Sans. You meet up at a different spot, one far, far away from where the previous shopping center was in hopes of lessening the chances of seeing your ex-husband again. Nearly bumping into him once and having him text you again after so long was more than enough, if not too much entirely.

He sits with you at a different food court, one belonging to a smaller mall, located farther away from the big city. There's plenty less hustle and bustle compared to the former, and it's easier to find a quiet spot for you to talk with him. There's a lot more time to spare, too, the sheer product of not having to text Papyrus before meeting him and not needing to have your aunt drive you there for extra preparedness and additional safety precautions. With the knowledge of that extra time in mind, you're both able to grab a quick bite to eat first, just like you'd done with Sans, with the exception of the tension caused by seeing your ex and having him reveal information about the monster beforehand.

Long story short, there's no reason for you to feel nervous, so when you start to grow queasy and sense stress already creeping on your shoulders, you brush it all off and tell yourself you're doing better than last time.

You're meeting up with Sans's brother, a man a few years younger and much taller than you. His gaze is far more cheery and inviting compared to Sans's, and while he seems far easier to talk to when compared to him, you still can't help the stress continuing to pile up on you. There's no reason for you to feel like this, yet you can't bring yourself to do the opposite.

“Are you alright?” Papyrus asks, concern tracing his words. He almost seems to read your mind, though you don't acknowledge his attentiveness; rather, you look up, smile at him, and attempt to focus more on the present in hopes of lessening his worries on you. “You’ve been spacing out for a while now.”

You force all other thoughts away and concentrate some more, already feeling as if you’re being far too rude with a stranger, regardless if he was being nice and patient about it or not. “I’m alright, thank you,” you reply, followed with a nod and a smile. “There’s... just a lot of questions I want to ask, and… And I just can’t seem to decide on my first one.”

He almost beams at your honesty and scoots his chair closer to the table, déjà vu striking as you remember your last words and actions shared with his elder brother. “What if I asked you one first? You can loosen up that way!”

“Sounds good.” Your smile manages to show some more and you find it hard not to be influenced by his friendly demeanor. If he'd acted this way with Frisk at the Underground, you were curious to know what they both thought of each other.  "Ask away." You face him as you say that, more than eager to get somewhere already. 

He nods and takes some time of his own to consider what question to ask of you. His deep analysis over such a simple thing shows in how long he contemplates what he wants to say and in the distant expression on his face, showing his mind's somewhere else. "What are your hobbies?"

Such a mundane question catches you off guard. Already braced for something deep and personal, you release your tension through a quiet breath and think that question over a few times. "Well, I…" 

You trail off when you realize you've pretty much lost sight of yourself since those two months of Frisk going missing. You were quite frankly friendless, and you'd no other hobbies left besides that of watching the late night news every other week day. Memories of your life before that time are difficult to retrieve, so you say the first thing on your mind. "Cooking, maybe? ...And reading, I guess." You give a shy smile and rub the back of your neck, an absent-minded action fueled by having nothing else to say for such a simple and easy question as that one. "To be honest, well… Cooking is something I do mainly for Frisk's sake, but I guess I do enjoy it when it's for that reason -- Not so much when it's for myself." Your newest schedule makes way into your thoughts, reminding you of how busy life would soon be, having to meet up with every monster Frisk knew and having to research on who they were and how they treated your child, all in order to determine how you could allow these to be a part of their life and how you could then welcome them into your home. "I'm due for a change, but I do want to find a new hobby soon -- or take back an old one, at least." 

You stop at the feeling of talking too much for far too long. Already worried over the matter, you shift and look up at the skeleton, only to see he's still carrying the same, friendly expression from before. "But what about you? Your brother told me you liked cooking, too."

Proud of your topic change, you smile and wait for him, who replies with, "I do!" He then nods and meets with your eyes; his gaze takes a more serious look to it. "But that's not what we're here for today, are we?" His tone is just as serious, though there's still his trademark optimism present in each word he says. "I understand you must be worried over Frisk's well-being. And though... Sans kept what happened this past week private, I understand you both had a conversation about that already, am I correct?" His smile returns and his recent concern shows through a subtle furrow in his visage. "I don't usually like to bring this up, but…" He sighs. "As his younger brother, I notice how much he cares for me and how much he tries to encourage me. There are... times when I notice my cooking does not exactly sit well in his taste buds... nor his digestive system, for that matter, yet he still tries to make me feel good about what I do and who I'm becoming."

He stops to let out a sigh, and a few tears manage to leak from his eye sockets. 

"Frisk, Undyne, and lots of other people act the same way with me, but it feels different with Sans -- his worry is without a doubt that of family, rather than those of friends like Undyne and Frisk. So here comes my point…" He sniffles and folds his hands over the table, these trembling despite his attempts at masking it through his usual cheer. A few tears plop on the surface, though he manages to push through with, "I believe the bond between you and Frisk is similar, if not stronger, and that's why you're here. You… You're worried we're not who we seem, and that whatever harm we caused to your child we can cause here again." He takes a pause, using it to breathe in and later out. "I... I assume that's what you called me here for, correct? You're concerned over Frisk's safety, now that they've made new friends, and you're even more worried over just who those new friends of them are."

You can't do anything else besides stare at him for a good while, mind becoming lost due to how much he's said in so short of a time. In the midst of it all, you take out a tissue from your belongings, offer it over to the monster, and smile back at him when he directs the same expression at you. "Thank you," he says, wiping the few remaining tears away. "I'll more than happily answer any questions you may have for me, but even then there will still be some things I won't be able to answer." He crumples the tissue up into a ball and sets it down on his plate, only a few crumbs from his meal remaining on it. "As much as I'd like to say I changed after Frisk showed me Mercy and taught me over how we could be friends, I still pulled them into battle -- I still hurt them, initially. It was my job to capture humans, and... Well…" His gaze averts from yours, similar to that of someone being caught in a bad deed. "My brother's job was, to quote: 'take care of them'."

You face away when he looks back to you, almost reversing your roles. The reminder of how grim the relationship between humans and monsters used to be and how it still was makes whatever food you ate make a comeback in your stomach, already churning. Bile forms at your throat, and you swallow hard, stress bringing forth waves of dizziness and nausea.

"If I did succeed in capturing a human, I would move up ranks under the Royal Guard," he continues, looking more worried the longer your symptoms stay present. "...And I'm ashamed to admit I held that status much more highly than I did over caring about humans, their innocence, and how they were still people like us, at one point. I was… I was much more naive back then. And I allowed for that naivety to hurt what was then a potential friend -- a friend who still ate the food I made despite it not tasting good, and a friend who... who forgave me in battle despite me hurting them."

You take your drink and finish what's left of it. Stress levels up to anxiety, and you can feel your heart beat too fast for it not to hurt. Regardless of nausea and in spite of how little you've talked, you still feel as if you need some sort of refresher with how dry your throat's become. "I-"

"That is why as much as I can talk about what good friends we became, how I treated them before that and how they felt and feel is all up to them. They should be the one to determine if I'm worthy of still staying by their side, and…"

Tears trickle down his face, a sight that compels you to drag your seat closer to the table, similar to how he'd done for you earlier ago. You pull out another tissue and hand it over, though he doesn't use it this time and instead hangs his head low, gaze casting a guilty look at the table below him. "Papyrus," you breathe those words out through a sigh, a saddened smile taking over. "I… I already know about that. But it's not the reason why I'm here." You place your hand over both of his, these still folded over the table, as if to bare himself to you. "Frisk already sees you as their friend -- there's no doubt about that. But…" Your gaze faces with his again, allowing you to carry on with, "I need to know what actions you took back there, so I can understand what was your relationship with them, and so I can judge the situation better." You let his hands go and rectify your posture, in search of confidence for the road still left to trek ahead. "Right now, I… I barely know much about how life was like down there, and how you received my child upon their fall."

The sounds of people walking and talking, of cutlery clicking, and of food cooking take up most of your senses, as so does having people around capable of overhearing the conversation. Both stimuli leave you a little more than overwhelmed and you have to take short breaths in and out to let yourself sink back into reality again. You're more than willing to flee from the conversation and head home by now, but you can't allow yourself any more weakness.

"Should we talk this through another day?" he intervenes, offering a bottled water out to you, appearing recently bought based on the receipt he stores away in his wallet and the way he goes back to his seat. "You seem faint." 

"It's fine," you say, taking the water. The cold nearly shocks you with how warm the rest of your body feels, and a few gulps are enough to bring some semblance of calm back into you. You then excuse yourself to retrieve an eyeglasses case from your satchel and set the rest of your belongings aside, from everyday items to the documents you were required to bring in to work today.

You used to wear glasses from how much you were required to read on your day-by-day, from endless field reports with fonts too tiny for you not to squint at them, to the tutoring and follow-ups you gave to Frisk for each lesson they took in school. "Excuse me for a moment." You settled for contacts not long before the days when Frisk went missing, and you stopped using them not long after with how much you teared up (and cried) on a daily basis. Now, you needed to go back to either one of those, but as luck turned out to be, eye contacts still wouldn't be one of them, presently.

You stand up and walk off to the nearest bathroom available for you, rushing inside to go wash your hands and remove your contacts. You then store them away and slip on the glasses, blinking a few times after to get used to the change. When you're done, it takes only one step for you to notice what Papyrus meant when he said you looked faint. All other surroundings besides that of the closest objects around you turn blurry and you're forced to stop and hold on to the nearest support available. You stay there for a while, grabbing onto the edge of the sink until you finally feel some sense of stability return to you. All the cumulative effects of little sleep, poor nutrition, and constant stress place your body on involuntary sleep mode, minus your consciousness.

It was only a week, but it felt too long.

You needed answers stat, not time to recover nor time to consider your own feelings on allowing monsters to continue being friends with Frisk. All the actions you were taking were for their sake only -- not for you, and certainly not for Jerry. Seeing your child healthy and happy were the two main goals you wanted to focus on; and maybe later on, you could live your own life without feeling that much guilt, sorrow, or remorse over your choices.

Deciding you can't go on like this, you pull out what little strength you have left in your system and exit the bathroom.

"(L/N)!"

Papyrus's voice sounds almost immediate as you leave the bathroom; the worry on his face appears much more noticeable compared to before. He approaches your side and offers you support by placing your hand over his shoulder, stabilizing your steps. "Sans told me you looked strange... But I did not think it was this grave!"

Oh, God.

You wore a bit of concealer to mask your weary state, yet he still noticed?

An involuntary chuckle interrupts those thoughts, and you have to dismiss Papyrus's concern when he asks what's wrong. "It's nothing," you say, thanking him when he hands over your belongings back to you. He still keeps himself near, however, and even asks if you need help carrying what he's just given you. "It's just… Do I look that strange to you?" You burst out another laugh when delving deeper into that thought. "And should I go see a doctor about it, seeing as two whole strangers who aren't even the same as me know I don't look the same as my pictures right now?" 

Despite the confused expression on his face, the monster smiles back, and he walks along with you out of the food court, ignoring the rest of your surroundings as you focus only on each other. "Even if we are different physically, it would still take a completely uninterested person to not notice how different you seem from the pictures both the media and Frisk have shown me of you." His smile turns warmer, as so does the look on his eye sockets. "Sans did not say anything, as he values privacy and did not see you in the state I have just now. But he did tell me he was worried you would collapse for a moment the day he told you about his past, and that he was surprised that you were still patient enough to listen to him regardless of all that!"

He stops for a second and pulls you along with him to a nearby wall, allowing others to keep on walking while he retrieves something from his pocket.

"And that reminds me," he says, offering you a letter envelope, thick and with a bunny sticker keeping it closed. "He told me your phone screen broke during your outing with him, so here you are!"

Not wanting to leave the skeleton's arm extended, you take the envelope and stare up at him with teary eyes, against letting them blink too much until they dry. 

How were you supposed to act firm, if stuff like this made you weak?

How could you judge your enemy without any bias, if acts like these were still present?

And if you did so with the monsters, were you then being hypocritical by not allowing Jerry to see Frisk after his own set of mistakes were made?

And what about you?

You were meant to keep Frisk well under your care, yet they still felt unhappy enough at one point to consider and even go as far as to away from everyone, including you.

What did that make you in their eyes?

Chapter Text

There's a time and place for everything, but not now.

You remind yourself of that and quite bluntly suck it up. 

All weaknesses are forced back down and corked shut, establishing a path for you to finish what you started. You went all the way out of the city just to meet up with Papyrus, and you were here to bring some sort of closure as to how you could approach him after concluding with your first meeting. Still, that's no excuse for you to be rude or break any of your hospitality rules, so you smile at the skeleton and thank him for the letter, it's contents you assume’s money judging by how thick and heavy the envelope is.

"This means a lot, but… Are you sure it's okay for me to accept this?"

"Of course it is! Alphys would be glad to fix your phone and even upgrade it for you!"

Now that makes more sense.

But that still doesn't explain why it's that thick and heavy. Whatever contents there are inside it remain a mystery as you wonder how that's possible and why it's even necessary to carry in an envelope what you assume is simply Alphys's contact information. Nonetheless, you store it away with the rest of your belongings and continue on walking until you make it out of the mall.

"I apologize for not, well… doing what we were meant to do today, but thank you for understanding," you say, keeping up with his pace.

"Of course. Communication is key!" He smiles back at you and slows down to a full halt when you both make it to the bus stop. "We can discuss all these matters later on, but wouldn't it be better for you to get a check up with your doctor first?" He almost seems to realize something’s off with his question and adds, "Not that your appearance is unpleasant, but that you simply do not look as healthy as the pictures Frisk showed me of you! You look... rather fatigued, if I’m to be honest."

"I'll…" You trail off when you notice you're beginning to compare both Papyrus and his brother's actions with Jerry's.

Jerry didn't notice how different you looked back at your meeting with Sans; rather, he only noticed you were with someone new, and nothing else.

He didn't demonstrate the same level of insight as Sans did.

And he didn't show as much concern as Papyrus did, either.

Jerry didn't-

"I'll keep that in mind." You shove all that aside and step inside the bus, Papyrus following after you. It's jam packed, so you're led to hold onto the nearest hand railing before it takes off.

While you wait for an opening to continue talking with him, more thoughts return to your mind, these about last week and how Jerry wouldn’t stop texting you information about the monsters no matter how much you ignored it all. The only messages you’d opened were the ones about who Sans was, and -- considering in what state that left both you and your phone screen in -- you’ve now established it upon yourself to not look at any other message Jerry's sent. If he wanted to warn you and Frisk about anything else, then he had to gather the wits to apologize for ditching his child for so long and actually reveal some sort of positive change in him.

Hell. When was the last time you saw him -- last December, maybe?

You let all those frustrations out through a huff and loosen your grip on the railing when you notice you've become too carried away with your thoughts. There's no reason for you to be thinking about him anymore. You were over Jerry’s bull crap a long, long time ago, and having him text you again after almost a whole year of complete and utter silence from his part couldn't possibly be enough for you to begin thinking about him again.

"I forgot to mention there's another thing from Sans inside that envelope," Papyrus says, serving as a necessary distraction from your overthinking mind. "He thinks it's useful for what you will be dealing with soon, now that you've made it your goal to learn more about Frisk's monster friends." The doors hiss as the first stop arrives. People begin to stand up and exit, leaving a few seats empty for both you and your companion, as well as those who were also left to stand and hold on. “How was your meeting with him, by the way?” 

“It was fine,” you reply, assessing his question and the change of tone that goes along with it. His once amiable tone changes for curiosity, almost as if he’d no prior knowledge of how your meeting with his brother went despite having proven the contrary back at the food court. It's sudden but subtle, though as much as you try to understand what it's caused by, you come out short of possibilities. “And he was nice. I wanted to pay for at least my part of the lunch we had, but he covered for it… And now you did the same today, too.” You chuckle at that thought and look up at the monster with a smile. “You’re both just as hospitable, I’d say.”

He sighs, a sound marked by relief. His face shows that same emotion based on how his gaze loosens up and how contentment returns to his expression, once clouded by that earlier one caught with his change in tone, still unknown to you. “It is not my intent to persuade you into anything, but… I was hoping you would both get along better. At first, it was for how worried I was that he would not adjust well to the Surface, but it looks like you could both benefit off getting along with each other!”

It becomes clearer now as to what his intentions are.

He was worried as any caring sibling would be for the other sibling’s well-being. It made sense despite how outgoing both skeletons appeared to be. The elder one looked to be the type to keep to himself more based on the sole, first impression you had of him. He knew when and where to joke around, he knew how to strike up a conversation, and he was thoughtful to a noticeable extent, but all that still didn’t cover up how he approached certain topics with you, even if he was still barely acquainted to you. Even if he was honest and even if he’d been earnest enough to confess his faults to you right on your first meeting, there remained something about him that told he was still keeping certain feelings to himself, such as that of a different weakness found beyond his mistakes. Papyrus showed that quality plenty both in subtle and blatant ways, such as when he admitted when he felt that he’d failed his friendship with Frisk and how he cried when talking with you earlier ago. Sans, on the other hand, didn’t quite reveal having any emotional bond in him when talking about how he’d failed his promise and Frisk in the process. Not that it meant that he didn’t feel any repentance over his actions, but that he simply seemed to take his job as a judge for the Underground into his real-life relationships -- using that mindset even outside the Judgment Hall. 

But, of course, you hardly knew him, so that could just be you overthinking the weight and significance of the situation and misinterpreting what could be a hint of introversion in the monster when compared with his younger brother.

Over-analysis aside, you consider yet another perspective regarding what Papyrus meant when he said he hoped for you and Sans to get along.

Was it really possible he meant that as simply friendship?

Or was he throwing subtle remarks about a possible set up?

“Do you…” A mild sense of guilt overcomes you at the mere consideration of that possibility, though it doesn’t stop your stressed mind from doing what it wants. “As friends, you mean?”

Notwithstanding his seemingly innocent character, Papyrus’s gaze widens and he looks away for a split second, cheekbones burning red. “Yes,” he replies, followed by, “I apologize if that made you think a different way. I just want him to have new friends and open up some more! Though now that you mention it, he..." He trails off and frowns. "He is a bit different from most of our friends. He is almost the same age as Undyne and Alphys, and yet he still hasn’t dated anyone to this day! That, and he always rejects the advances he gets from a few people he knows from Grillby’s bar.”

“Maybe he’s aromantic or something similar?” you suggest, quirking a brow and smiling at the sight of Papyrus's flustered state. “That’s normal, if so. It could just mean he’s not interested in a romantic relationship and stuff like that.”

“But I’m still worried about him -- He’s just like this for making new friends, too! And he’s been acting strange since the Barrier broke.”

Your smile grows the further Papyrus talks, and it’s almost a challenge for you not to burst out a laugh; not in a mocking sort of sense, but for the sheer worry he expresses both through his words and body language. It’s almost as if your personalities have switched, making it now his turn to show his own set of stresses, but in a far more composed way compared to your previously anxious state. He sighs and places a hand over his forehead, expressing his troubled thoughts yet again through the rub of his temples. “If anything, I hope it’s that… And that he’s not keeping stuff to himself!” He looks at you with a small smile and adds, “Could you…” He hesitates, though he recovers with a breath in and a harrumph. “Could you ask him about that one day? I do not know much about these topics myself, but… In the meantime, I was hoping if…”

He trails off for a second time.

At that chance, you intervene, saying, “Sure.” You let out a laugh, a simple sound that seems to be sufficient for the skeleton to relax again. “You both paid for lunch, and you’re here with me after I said I needed to talk with you about the whole situation at the Underground, so…” You take a pause as your smile grows. “It’s only fair I try to pay some of that forward, don’t you think? I’m sure I can find a way to ask him without being blunt about it.”

Tears return to Papyrus’s eye sockets as sudden as thunder on a clear, sunny day. At that sight, you offer him a hug, one he accepts just as quickly. His arms squeeze you tight, similar to that of a child hugging their favourite stuffed animal after a fright, and he nearly sobs into your shoulder afterwards, the emergence of that action incrementing his grip on you. “You are too kind!” he exclaims, capturing the attention of the few passengers still remaining in the train. “I will make sure the rest of us you have left to meet are just as cooperative with you!”

You release a quiet gasp, in needful search for air when he lets you go, and chuckle when you see his gaze is as hopeful as someone with a lottery ticket. Were you both not sitting and still waiting for your stop, you would imagine he would’ve hugged you for longer or further showed his gratitude through a bow. “It’s alright,” you say, shaking your head. “Maybe I’m a little weak right now, but as soon as I go visit the doctor and get things cleared out, just say the word and I’ll do what I can to help you guys get settled up here.”

Papyrus sniffles into the third tissue you’ve offered him today and trembles after recovering. He then looks at you with a clearer gaze and a fonder smile, both of these enhanced by the late afternoon sunlight beginning to shine through the train’s large windows. “E- Even if you… consider some of us as enemies by the end of it?”

“It would all depend on how it goes, but…” You rub the back of your neck and allow a pensive frown to take over for a moment. “Based on what I know so far, I doubt I won’t be able to help out. Even if some of you hurt Frisk, I... I still have to acknowledge how much you offered and did for them after you learned they weren’t an enemy.”

His hopeful gaze almost drives into a pitfall and a trace of guilt flickers on his visage.

All other surroundings and people present besides the chair you sit on, his presence, and yourself shift to a sudden blur as you can only concentrate on that change, too abrupt for your liking.

“About that…” he speaks up, hesitating. “There’s something I believe neither Frisk nor any of us have told you about, and that is-”

Your destined stop finally arrives, interrupting whatever closely-hidden confession the skeleton was about to direct at you.

Chapter Text

"...So, did you go to the doctor?"

"Yes, dear."

"And what did she say?"

"It's possible I have anemia or something because of malnutrition."

"What's anemia?"

"That just means I don't have enough blood to stay active and do things as I usually do."

"And why did that happen? You've always made us eat healthy!"

"Frisk, honey…" You sigh and place a hand over your forehead, massaging the ache away. "I get that you're worried, but I need a moment to concentrate. The food'll burn if I keep getting distracted."

"Let me help you, then!"

"Not today. You should do your homework now so I can check it later."

"Why? I can help you if you're busy. And Toriel can help me with that later anyway!"

Needing patience, you stop your work on the stew and let out another breath, longer yet quieter this time. Then, you take a sip of water and set the cup aside to wash for later. "You're not going to see any more of your monster friends until I can at least get to know some of them better." You turn off the stove and let the stew rest while you do the same. "Toriel's an exception, yes. But that doesn't mean I'll allow you to visit her place if people like Sans are going to be there, too."

"But he helps me with science!"

"I'll take care of that, then."

"But you're busy!"

"I can make time."

"But isn't it okay if Toriel's gonna be there with him?"

"If it was, I wouldn't be telling you about this in the first place."

Frisk huffs and pouts, arms crossing as they look away from you. "It's not like he's a ticking time bomb anyway. He… He's not gonna hurt me!"

"How can you be so sure? Your dad left us out of the blue."

"I don't care about him, and he's not my dad anymore! Y- You shouldn't call him that, and you should stop comparing other people with him!"

"Don't talk like that. You know that's not-"

"It's true!" Their words almost come off in a shriek and tears stain their face. "He- He doesn't care about me anymore, so I won't care about him, either. It's his fault why you had to go to the doctor in the first place!" 

You stay quiet and watch as they blink through the tears, sniffling some of them back. Sensing they need a break from your gaze, you turn back to the stove and focus on continuing with the meal.

"I… I was okay with it the first week, but when I noticed how much better we've been doing just with Toriel alone, I- I got really, really mad at him! He doesn't care about us anymore, and he left us even before I ran away. If he wants to show he cares, then… Then he has to do something else besides sending you dumb What'sUp messages all the time."

You stop what you're doing again and catch the salt shaker just as it's about to fall into the pot, stew still resting and waiting for you to finish with flavouring it. Thankfully, the safety lock keeps it from making a mess, so you place it back where it was and thank the Heavens you don't have to salvage the food from being oversalted. When you recover, you stop looking at the pot to meet with Frisk's eyes, directing your widened ones at them.

"How do you know that?"

"It's obvious! Your face always gets all scrunched up and grumpy, and the ringtone's different to all the others."

"And what if it's someone else?'

"You don't text anyone else besides auntie and Sans sometimes!"

Their words hit you like a punch to the gut. 

Having your social life summarized so quickly almost makes you wince, and you feel the urge to ground them simply for those words alone, rather than for their earlier conduct regarding how they talked about Jerry. "I'm afraid I'll have to take your own phone away if you keep doing this. I don't know how you even figured all that stuff out, but you know it's not good to sneak up on things like this. You should ask me if you're curious, dear. And... And not just take a look at those messages whenever I'm not around."

"I haven't snooped around! The messages would show they're read, but all the stuff Jerry's sent you's still unread."

You smile and choose not to mention on how they continue to corner themselves the longer they speak, though you do acknowledge their awareness over small details, taking advantage of that by asking, "So that means you've read auntie and Sans's texts?"

They nod, unhesitating. "I know auntie's been telling you to get in touch with friends again. And you have a tour date with Sans this weekend!"

"Tour date where?"

"The Underground!" 

"And besides those two people, who's the last person I texted, and how long ago was it?"

Frisk stays quiet for a while this time, but it's made clear they're only seeking that information from their memory rather than realizing how far they've dug themselves into a hole. "Your coworker was last month, and one of your friends was two months ago." Their response is confident, although it doesn't take longer than a few seconds of silence between you for them to notice their mistakes. You don't say anything and stare at them with squinted eyes and an equally humoured grin, waiting.  "Um…" They can only stare with wide eyes; their body stays still while their mind processes just what exact mistakes were made. "I…"

"Go shower and dress up, dear," you say, biting back your smile. "We'll eat first before we go, and we can talk on the way there."

"To Toriel's place?"

You nod. "It's about time I met her in person rather than calls. And frankly, it's been… really irresponsible of me to let you continue visiting her despite me not being aware of who she is in person. I only allowed it because Serif was there, but after learning about what he did, I really don't want you near him."

"But you guys are going on a date this weekend!"

"If you're smart enough to know opening a message shows you've read it, then I'm sure you know that's not what that word means in that context."

"...What's context?"

"I won't keep playing your game, dear."

"But what if I really don't know what it means?"

"Then you can find it in a dictionary, or you can ask your tutors about it."

"You're being mean!"

"And you're being nosy."

Frisk frowns and crosses their arms. They attempt an angered expression, though it results in a faltering grimace as they try not to let their sadness known. Their lips stay pressed close together and their body shakes, all signs of them wanting to cry their feelings out. Still, they push through and regain some calm through a sigh. "I…" Their tone is just as reluctant as their posture, so you don't pressure and stay quiet. "I'm sorry." They let their arms loosen and stare up at you with stern eyes. "I was just worried about you. I… I didn't mean to look through your stuff. And I… I didn't mean to make you angry. I-"

"I'm not angry." You place a hand over their head and smile, tickling the back of their ear and gaining a smile back from them. "But what you did really wasn't right." You pause and take a breath, already weak and dizzied despite it still being one in the afternoon. "And even though there're times where you have to go against the rules, this isn't one of them. You could've gotten into trouble if it was a stranger or someone else, or you could've learned something the wrong way. If you need to know something, you should ask me directly, not just play spy about it. I won't know what's bothering you if you keep hiding it from me and getting your answers like this. Alright?"

Frisk responds with a hug rather than words. Their hold is tight, and they nearly cling onto you, face pressing against your torso as they cry against it. "I'm sorry," they whisper through their sniffles and hiccups, holding on tighter. "I- I… Could you tell me what's making you sad next time, then?"

"Of course, honey." You place a hand against the back of their head and brush your fingers through their hair. "...I should've done that sooner, too." You smile when they let go and meet with their eyes, these red and watery from the recent cry. "Your hair's getting longer," you add, ruffling it up. "Do you wanna cut it, or do you like it this way?"

"I like it this way!" Their words are as bright as their smile, and another look at them reveals a weight's been lifted off their shoulders. "Should I go do my homework now? I wanna stay with you today."

"Sure," you reply, letting your smile grow. "Do what you already know. I'll be there in a few to help you out."

"Thank you!"

With that, they stand on their tiptoes and kiss your cheek. Then, they run off to their room, leaving you to finish with the stew.

Frisk's return equals to having a cramped calendar, where every single day's marked down with a sticker and a note to remind you over what you have to do.

Still, it doesn't erase the fact you need time for yourself, so you take up Frisk's concern over your health and happiness as advice for you to take better care of yourself. You start by stretching after an hour long nap, drinking some water, and opening up the envelope the two skeleton brothers had given you. Anticipation arrives with the reminder of what Papyrus hinted at about its contents. You tear it open, pull out the first thing you touch, and continue doing so until there's nothing left to take out and place on your nightstand. You then look at all the items laid out and notice that -- besides the business card Papyrus mentioned -- all other items are what he'd informed were from his brother.

Besides Alphys's contact information, there's...

What looks like a bunny-shaped notepad.

Two admission tickets.

A folded paper with some cards stuck to it.

And, as you feared, money.

If Papyrus mentioned only about Alphys's contact information being there, then it's a likelihood to assume the rest is from his older brother.

You take the notepad first and open it to see the first page has already been filled out, and it reads:

"so, uh… hey."

"i'm not too good at writin' letters, but i thought this notepad would be useful now that you're gonna keep a contact list of all the monsters frisk made friends with. i took the liberty of puttin' in the first ten i could think of. start with those first, and don't push yourself too hard."

The fourth and second to last item from the monster is what looks like an agreement letter and a pair of travel visas attached to it. You squint at the tiny lettering and adjust your glasses to begin with the reading.

"With the approval of former Royal Sentry and Judge, Comic Sans Serif, I hereby allow for Mx. (Y/N) (L/N) to traverse the Underground with him by their side. It is important to note these tickets will expire in three days after their initial use, and that another permit would need to be requested if the user so requires to visit the Underground again. I would also like to let known that it was not in my decision to have all these restrictions made, but it has been requested by the government that we restrict access to the Underground until they determine it is safe for humankind to visit. These visas have been given for the sole sake of having both of Frisk's parents well-informed over their child's journey, and said adults' safety should be provided by mister Serif. Any danger they face at the Underground shall be blamed on him for his inability to keep up with the requirements of this agreement, which include providing Mx. (L/N) specifically with both protection and knowledge alike. A second permit has been provided in case that Frisk's other parent decides to accept the offer, as well. – Asgore Dreemurr."

Below all that is a note written with a soft shade of pencil graphite, allowing you to erase it after reading.

"take care, pal."

Ignoring the smile on your face, you proceed to the third item: two admission tickets for what's titled as 'A Spectacular Drama by Mettaton'. Attached to one of them is a second sticky note along with a shorter memo written down on it. It makes sense as to why the agreement letter had a 'take care' on it, given it's the last item you'd pulled out besides the money. Had you checked them all in that order, that last memo would've been a closing of sorts. 

"there's gonna be a big show in two months. dunno if you and your kid celebrate the holiday, but frisk seemed to like snowdin, so i figured they'd also like seeing a whole bunch of events related to that. it says 'drama' only, but that's just mettaton highlightin' what he finds the most important."

"tell me when the time comes if you're up for it. i can help you get to know the guy better before then."

The money's the only thing left and the only one that leaves questions behind. You take the batch and count in hopes of finding some answers, though the longer you do that, the stranger it gets.

20…

40…

60…

80…

100…

That pattern repeats for two more times, making it three-hundred in total. 

Just as you wonder why you've been handed such a large amount, you have the urge to look at yourself in the coffee table's reflection to see you're not exactly looking any better than before.

Both him and his brother had noticed that. It's almost been two weeks, and yet you've still the same tired look to your face. Constant lost hours of sleep, excessive stress, and practicing a poor diet had left almost irreparable damage on your body and mind alike, enough for even non-human people to notice the change. 

All things considered though, how were you supposed to hate an enemy when they acted like this?

Chapter Text

"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 parent, 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?

Chapter Text

They stand up like an undead from their grave, almost stumbling to get back to their feet and taking up all the strength they have left to stare at the man with a somber gaze. One look at their face tells they're about to either blow up or faint, the latter Sans assumes more of them based on what he knew about them so far. He stays closer by as a result and tries not to intervene yet, finding himself watching by the sidelines as he always seemed to do even before his life here on the Surface.

"I'm aware I can't just trust these people easily, but that doesn't mean they aren't worthy of being heard." They take a breath far too shaky and followed by a pause far too lasting. "I… I may not be the best parent out there, but I do care. And I'll show that by making sure I'm aware of the monsters' actions while still allowing my child to keep being friends with them." The skeleton takes his gaze elsewhere when he notices a camera flash from nearby. The owners behind those devices, most recording and some taking snaps of the scene, are either snickering or left with their mouths agape as they continue to engrave the scene both in their phones and minds. "I'll accept whatever decision CPS makes in terms of Frisk's safety, but for now, I…" The human interrupts their own sentence when they stumble, cutting his idea of dealing with those nosy people short. "I…"

They take a slow step back, huff out an exhausted breath, and -- without missing a beat -- stumble again and fall back. The skeleton takes a leap and stands behind them, nulling their fall with his own body. The last words to leave them are incoherent mumbles, and their half-lidded eyes close shut as they press their face against his chest for support.

The man continues with his rant regardless, pricking some annoyance into Sans's mind as he attempts to tune out the noise and concentrate more on the human in his arms.

"Hey," he calls out, louder the second time when it goes unheard. "Can you stay quiet for a sec? They're sick."

"Oh, they're sick alri-"

"He said shut up."

A familiar voice helps him deal with the man, though he doesn't care over who the person is right now. Instead, he drags the fainted human with him back to an empty seat and thanks another when she offers hers. As more people spread out, he's provided with more space to spread their body across the seats left out for them, taking up three in total. 

"(Y/N)?"

His call is responded to by another mumble, much weaker and quieter than the last. He sighs and takes their face with one hand, using the other to keep their body from falling off. "Can you open your eyes for me, please? I need you to look at me."

Sans reminds himself of the human's satchel and turns his gaze around to see the man he'd given up his seat to's thought the same way as him. He gives it to him and helps keep them in place while he takes a look inside, retrieving a first aid kit from its contents. The monster whispers a blessing under his breath and turns back around, nodding for the man to step back to his seat while he returns to tending to the fainted human. "Thank you."

The man nods back and receives help from the earlier woman as he limps back to his seat. Hushed fighting noises can be heard between the man who started the fight and the man quelling it, though once more, the skeleton can care less about the owner of that voice as he tries to focus more on the situation at hand. "(Y/N)," he calls out, louder this time. "Do somethin' if you can still hear me."

Another quiet mumble leaves their mouth as they furrow their gaze, likely troubled by a pointed headache -- or what could be a migraine at this point. He stops crouching and kneels next to them instead, taking a few more items from their belongings after he's settled himself next to them. A soft but sudden swerve from the bus sends them too close to the edge, though he manages to gather some Karma from the earlier event, strong enough for him to create a barrier and keep them from following off the makeshift hospital bed. His hands are shaking, though he doesn't acknowledge it. Be it from the agreement's terms looming over him or the human in his hands far too weak for them to last another hour -- or a mixture of both -- he's not initially sure of, but another look at their scrunched up face and how their expression's furrow turns far more harsh and denoting of their ill state makes him dismiss the consequences of the agreement and concentrate more on the health of the human he was barely just getting to know well enough as a potential friend. 

He sits down on another of the few empty chairs left out for him and suspends his body over theirs, struggling to meet with their face due to the difference in height despite how little it is compared to most of the people he knew. The human was no taller than his brother, but even then they were still tall enough to make him out to be the shortest when compared with them. His hand reaches out for their face again, and he comes across a cold, cold temperature, sufficient for his soul to jolt in response to it. People around seem to notice what's going on -- be it for his expression or not he isn't paying attention to now though -- and tell the bus driver to hurry, heightening the possibility of a bumpier ride, but leveling out the risks of the human dying on the spot.

While the bus continues to move, the monster continues to find more ways for helping with the situation. He starts by performing CPR on them, but carries on with his original plan when the human doesn't respond to the treatment. He goes off to prepare some alcohol by dousing a few cotton balls and pads with the substance and pressing one after another against their nose, until they manage to cough and open their eyes, even if just a little and even if they end up closing these again.

The monster breathes out a sigh as he realizes it's not lack of oxygen but rather weakness overall, weighing down on their body hard enough to make their breathing scarce and their body and mind equally unresponsive. A shiver crosses with his spine when he imagines the state they could've ended up in had Frisk gone missing for longer than they had. If almost two months of their absence had caused this much of a change in their parent's health, another one more could've likely been enough to end their life, be it accidentally or -- harder to think about -- purposefully. 

"Please, do somethin' again if you can still hear me," he says, setting those thoughts aside.

A hand reaches for his own when he says that, landing just the right amount of gentle for it to pass off as a winter breeze or a ghost's touch. 

It doesn't squeeze at his nor does it move from that spot, but that action alone of having their hand move that much helps him relax some more while he waits to arrive at a hospital.

"What's your relationship with Mx. (L/N)?" the nurse asks.

"I'm an acquaintance," he replies, obtaining a cautious look from the man.

It's made clear that, with how quick he is to bring that question up hardly seconds after seeing the mentioned person be taken away for emergency care, he's eager to set things straight -- and fast.

The monster stretches when the nurse leaves, in dire need of that after carrying the human all the way from the bus stop to the hospital's entrance. The nurse, on the other hand, prepares all the necessary documents for their stay at the front desk, leaving him alone to observe the hospital's indoors from where he's told to wait at, from the white interior to the distinctive smell of sterility. Even the few people who'd helped the monster with the situation at the train stay close by, some sitting by the waiting room with him and others standing near the doorway, but without obstructing any other potential emergency or those going in and out. 

When the nurse returns with the papers, Sans takes out the agreement letter and shows it to him. He receives an almost immediate answer as to what the nurse thinks about his relationship with the patient just by the apologetic look on his face, directed at the letter as he reads through it. His face scrunches up, and he offers that look at the monster before giving the letter back to him. "I'm afraid you'll have to wait nearby while a family member or a partner gets here. Have you contacted anyone yet?"

"Yeah." He nods, hands slipping into his pockets as per custom, though now's more of a nervous tick rather than how it tended to be: relaxed and unbothered. "Their aunt should be here soon."

"How soon, sir?"

"Uh, like…" He checks his phone. "Like four hours. It'd take longer, but one of my friends is gonna pick up their kid later to help her get 'ere quicker."

The nurse crosses his arms, sighs, and gives a knowing yet heartfelt look at him. "What can you do to prove you're trustworthy, then? I need someone we can trust to test something on the patient." His eyes narrow as he scrutinizes the skeleton's face and overall attire. "You're a scientist, right?"

"Used to be."

"Good enough for the occasion. Could you come here with me for a second? There's something we think could help your friend out, but we need the approval of someone knowledgeable from the Underground -- someone who knows better about this kind of stuff than we do." He lets his arms go and eases his expression with a smile. "If you do that, you can check on the patient soon -- with a nurse's close supervision, of course."

Not really giving too much thought to the situation, Sans shrugs and agrees with an 'alright'. "What's your doubt?" he asks.

"I need to show it to you," the nurse replies. "It's about a strange substance discovered in some humans after they fall to the Underground."

Sans accompanies the man to his desk, who takes a small set of keys from his back pocket, unlocks the bottom drawer, and motions for him to stand close by. "It has a rather… risky medical history, so we wanted to ask someone with more knowledge before doing anything too rash." From there, he takes out a thin but tall, unlabeled glass bottle and leaves an empty syringe behind. Just from the neon red colour of the substance and its viscosity, both qualities able to be seen thanks to the material it's contained in, Sans already has his answer: no.

Determination was far from safe when injected on rather than when it naturally came to be. Even humans could feel the aftereffects of such a strong substance in their veins, and for most monsters, it was either lethal, fatal, or dangerous enough to deform them for life. He hesitates at the thought of it being used for malicious reasons, but eases up a bit when taking into account how the nurse is practically showing his discovery to him without any need for secrets or lies. He assumes that -- if the man were to have any bad intentions -- he wouldn't simply be flaunting the substance around or acting that nonchalant about its existence.

"It's not safe," is the first thing he says, words almost rushing from his teeth. "Injecting that to a human -- or anyone, actually -- is taking a huge risk. That substance should come naturally, and not by injecting it into the subject's body."

The nurse frowns, but relents. He sets the bottle back where it was, closes the drawer, and locks it back down. Then, he turns back to the monster and adds, "So considering those risks, you agree the treatment's off the question for this patient?"

"Definitely. It's better to do some more research before getting in on anythin', even if some of our past scientists did experiment with that substance at the Underground."

Nodding, he steps aside from the desk and gestures for the skeleton to follow him off to the hallway, far from the entrance and the waiting rooms. As they both walk, the man stays quiet and appears lost in thought, though that changes when he stops meeting the floor during his daze and asks, "Could you at least give me more details on this substance later, then?"

Sans agrees with a quiet hum, not in uncertainty, but due to being lost in thought himself. "As long as it ain't used on anybody for testin', then sure. We can work on that."

The man stops walking and lights up with a smile. "Excellent!" he exclaims, almost beaming in response. "Follow me to the patient's room. I'll have another one of our nurses watch over you while I'm gone."

He smiles back, though a bit late due to the topic still occupying his mind. "Thank you."

The room's North Pole cold, bleak, and dimly lit, though the latter's fixed when the nurse meant to watch over him passes through the hallway. She turns a few more lights on and stands in front the open door, greeting him with a stern gaze. A notepad rests in her arms, written on to such an extent that there's more ink rather than paper.

In enters the woman, brown skinned and brunette compared to the pale and ginger haired man from earlier ago. Wrinkles can be seen on her face, revealing her to be older compared to the seemingly novice nurse who attended him before. A few grey hairs stick out this way and that, though her professionally tidy bun masks most of it away with a scrunchie. 

"Stay in that chair, sir, and don't get near the patient," she demands, staring down at him. "And please hand over the agreement letter. We require a copy of it to have proof of your acquaintanceship with the patient."

He does as told, both in terms of keeping his distance from (Y/N) and in giving her the letter. "Why the distance, though?" he asks. "Is it somethin' contagious?"

"No." Her forbidding look deepens and almost turns to a glare. "We simply do not want you touching the patient unless it is absolutely necessary."

It takes him a second to process the sentence, though he nods after that's done with. "I understand." He walks to where she points at, though stays standing as he continues to talk with her. "Could I know what's their condition, then? It... kinda looked like a panic attack, but then they also told me they didn't eat or sleep well for the past two months."

Appearing surprised for just a moment, the woman returns to her sedate expression as she checks her notepad again. "Well…" She huffs. "You're not too far off. Both of their symptoms combined and worsened each other out, which resulted in them becoming that weak." She then takes out a cellphone from her pocket and unlocks it, tapping on the screen a few times before having a sound play, likely from a recent, viral video based on what's spoken throughout it. "Would you care to look at this recording for a minute? One of the witnesses present during the incident caught you acting rather… strangely with the patient." The nurse gives the phone over, though she hesitates when her hand brushes with his, an act of hesitation masked by a stern visage.

The first thing he sees when replaying the video is nothing out of the ordinary given the situation displayed: him giving CPR to someone in need of that treatment. It's not until he remembers how touchy such a subject can be considering the factors of who he is and his reputation on the Surface -- and even more so when taken out of context -- that he understands why she's made that comment. "I was giving 'em CPR. Be a bit weird if it'd be doing anythin' else considerin' the situation, don't ya think?" He looks up from the video of him placing pressure on their chest and giving them mouth-to-mouth (or at least, his technically was one, taking into account that thing he could do with his skull whenever he ate or drank something; it was a thing most of the comments on Phrasebook talked about rather than over what's happening to the human in need: the strange malleability of the monster's skull, with some others questioning over how he could even be performing CPR despite not having any lungs) as he tries to bring air back into their system, and holds back the urge to point out how obvious that situation is. "What's wrong with that?"

"Couldn't have someone else done it? There were plenty of people present."

"I'd say that's a bit of an insensitive question to ask after what they've been through."

"Answer my question, sir."

Sans sighs and hands the phone back to her. "It was a moment of high tension. I couldn't help what happened back there, and if I did wait 'til someone else showed up, that would heighten the chances of me losing 'em before they could get 'ere."

"Maybe so, but that first treatment gave no results. They remained in a coma until you rubbed alcohol on their nose. If you knew that would work, then why did you not do that in the first place?"

"Same reason why I didn't wait 'til someone else came to give 'em CPR. It was a moment of rush n' panic."

"But you were still-"

"...Sans?"

For what has to be the first time since meeting the human, the monster feels relieved at hearing them call him by his casual name. It's a faint and strained attempt, revealing they've used all their strength just to call out for him. Never he would've imagined feeling so pleased at hearing a still-to-be friend's voice, nor does he allow himself to let his other type of imagination run wild, one related to the warmth he feels in his soul when turning to their side and seeing them awake -- weak and confused, but still there.

"What happened?" they ask, frowning. "Are… Are you okay?"

He tries to approach them, though he soon receives a warning from the nurse not to. "I'm, uh… I'm alright," he says, replying from the distance of the chair he's been told to sit on. "Don't really think it's helpful to ask this, but… What about you?"

They chuckle and a smile keeps itself on their face. "Everything hurts, but I feel way better than I did back at the bus."

He grins. "This's probably a wild guess, but has it gotta do with having no one screamin' at you?"

They nod and let their smile grow, albeit at the cost of triggering a sudden and visibly acute headache. "Definitely," they reply.

"And having nobody else gossipin' about it?"

"That, too." Their smile fades as they say that. "Could you... come over here for a moment?"

Sans spares a glance at the nurse, only to receive a quick nod in approval and a hint of a smile. Though left unsure as to what's caused such a sudden change in her temperament, he takes up the opportunity without protest and stands next to them, waiting. "What's up?" he asks.

The human makes an effort to stand up, but fails soon after. To make up for that, they reach out for his hand and squeeze it, smile making its comeback as they reply with, "Thank you." A pause follows as they let go of his hand, tucking theirs under the sheets. "You've acted far sweeter than that dog we met at the park today."

"Settin' some high standards here, huh?"

They let out a laugh. "It… hurts when I do this." So instead, they grin. "Never thought being happy would be so painful."

The skeleton grins back at them and quirks an iris, estranged by their feelings and their choice of words alike. "Even after what you've been through today?"

They nod. "Even after all that, I'm... I'm happy now."

Chapter Text

A strong and persistent, ticklish feeling on your nose wakes you up with a sneeze. 

Albeit, your face is far too puffy now for you to even see what's going on, not including the fact that you're not wearing either contacts or glasses presently -- and not that you even remember where your glasses ended up on after you passed out yesterday. It's all one big blur both in terms of your eyesight and your mind. The only few things you remember after waking up in a hospital bed was Sans at the very beginning of it all, along with your aunt arriving with some fresh clothes plus basic toiletries for you to use and change into after a shower. The rest of your memories are muddled to a point where you can't even remember where your belongings are, how long you've slept, or what hour it is.

The pressure you feel on your chest paired up with a few energetic woofs and a lick at your face let you know who's the product of your allergy. Thankfully though, the dog understands when you tell him you have to stand up. He barks again and jumps off of you, giving you freedom to move and try to feel around for your phone.

Doubt hits you when you find it, and you start to wonder if calling anyone's even necessary, keeping in mind that your emergency's mostly a puffy face and an itchy nose, coupled with blurry eyesight.

Surely, you could find your medicine just as you did with your phone, and worst case scenario, you could wait until a nurse or a doctor came around; your allergy wasn't that bad, anyway.

You try to search for the medicine all on your own first, though it results in you having to question the very same root of your problem for help. "Could you help me find my bag?" you ask, facing down with a smile at where you assume the dog's at. How he got inside a hospital room's left unknown to you, but now's not the time to be worrying about that. "It should be around-"

Before you can even finish your sentence, the dog barks once and runs off, becoming an even fainter, white blur as he leaves your side. Soon enough though, he returns with what you assume are your belongings, based on the colour of the bag's material alone, its dark brown contrasting with his white fur. "Thank you," you say, taking the bag from his mouth. You then sit down in bed and rummage through your belongings until you find some allergy pills and a half-drunken, lukewarm, bottled water, plus the new bottle your aunt had brought you. Compared to the one you packed up for yesterday, it's still ice-cold to the touch, and it's twice the size as a regular one.

A yawn, a headache, and a painful stretch intervene with your mission, so you decide to wash up first before taking any medicine. Countless hours of sleep meant lethargy was just around the corner were you to be tempted to lay down again, so you stumble your way to the bathroom and freshen yourself up, a daily routine adjusted to go by quicker when you hear the door of your room open and the dog bark at the new visitor. Happy woofs inform you you're not in any sort of danger, though you could still use whatever company there's waiting for you with how long it feels since you've last had a talk with someone unrelated to how your health was doing and what happened back at the bus.

"Hey, bud. What're ya doing 'ere? You know (Y/N)'s allergic to you."

"Woof-woof!"

The exchange between the new voice and the dog are the first few words you can hear while you wrap things up, though the dog runs back to your side as soon as you open the door and return to your bed.

"Don't," the visitor warns, whistling for the dog to approach him and chuckling when he runs off to his side. "You're gonna get 'em hospitalized again if you keep doin' this."

The dog distracts himself with the visitor while you take your pills and down them with some water. All that's left is to find your glasses while your face recovers, though as much as you try searching for them or your other alternative, you can't find them among all the other items scattered inside. Most first aid items are felt tampered with, bringing forth the unwanted memory of what you'd been through yesterday and how you were still well under recovery.

"Good mornin'. Dunno how that doggo got here, but I'll make sure he doesn't break in again."

Another recognizable blur -- made up mostly of blue, black, and white smudges -- shows up in front of you and crouches to meet with your face. Weren't he so used to wearing such similar colours and casual outfits all the time, you would have a harder time distinguishing him beyond that of his low voice and New York accent. He scoots a bit closer and reaches out for your face, hands brushing with your ears as he slips on your glasses for you. It's as clear as day he's already regretting what he's done, judging by the way his gaze averts from yours when you're able to see clearly again.

"You alright? Your allergy's lookin' worse than yesterday's." While it's initially unclear as to why he hesitated after putting on your glasses for you, just one closer look through all the puffiness of your face lets you see a faint, microscopical hint of red on his cheekbones. "...Sorry 'bout touchin' you like that, by the way. Dunno what got into me, but, uh-"

"You mean you putting on my glasses for me?"

"Yeah -- That was way outta hand of me. Sorry if that made you uncomfortable."

You take a second to think over what he means with that -- mind still processing everything as quickly as an old desk computer -- until you remember how his brother tried to set you both up a while back. 

If that was enough to get the one being set up all worked up around you even for the most trifling matters, you can't imagine how the monster's feeling now that he's taken such an intimate initiative with you, considering he could've simply offered you the glasses rather than slip them on for you. "That's okay." You snicker, dismissing his worry with a smile. "It's no big deal, really."

"Still, that was wrong of me." He smiles back at you, though that expression soon fades as he dwells deeper and longer into what's happened. "I did that without your knowledge, and we're not even friends yet. I took that, uh, incident back at the park too close to heart, so I'm not really sure what to do anymore or how close I should act with you." Sans takes a hand to the back of his neck, sighs, and rubs at it, inadvertently sitting next to you in bed as he contemplates the situation while facing the floor. "I need to tell Paps to stop settin' us up anymore in the future. Not only is it unfair for you with all the stuff you have goin' on. But well... I'm not too sure about what being in a relationship entails, either. I mean, seriously -- Being set up like this's really not my thing. Maybe it's different for others, but I just can't date a person or go out with 'em unless I'm real close to 'em." His shoulders stiffen, and he looks up at you with widened irises and a meek grin. "God, I'm… I'm not even sure why I'm tellin' you all this, though. It's-"

Remembering Papyrus's request, you intervene with, "Can I kiss your cheek, uh… bone? Maybe you could sort out your feelings a bit more if you try it."

Seemingly at a loss for words, the skeleton nods as a response.

You move a bit closer to him and press a quick kiss on his cheekbone, keeping all other limbs aside to prevent touching him anywhere else. His face turns a bit hotter now, similar though not as noticeable as when humans blush, so you assume he's going through the same thing despite those subtle differences. He looks away when you move back, though he faces you again when you ask, "How did that feel?"

There's a long beat of silence between you, until he eventually breaks it with, "It felt nice."

"Like in a platonic sort of sense, or otherwise?"

"...I'm not sure."

You hum and lose yourself in your thoughts, motivated by the kiss and his reaction to it. His body language is either good enough to mask any further embarrassment; that, or he just really didn't feel anything out of the ordinary when being kissed on the cheekbone. You try to think back on past experiences and remember how Jerry was a lot shyer than you when it came to being upfront and honest about your feelings with each other. Both your appearances deceived in that aspect, as your roles in twelve grade were like those of a high school movie clique: Jerry was a popular soccer athlete back then, while you were the quiet and lonesome nerd in charge of the library. You kissed him first though, and you were the first to admit your feelings for him after you discovered you liked both boys and girls alike.

"Well, how about this," you speak up, gaining his attention again. "Could you imagine yourself doing anything romantic with any of your past crushes, like kissing, hugging, or just… full-on making out?"

"Hard pass on the last one. Don't think I can imagine myself doing somethin' like that with someone -- unless I'm maybe really, really close to 'em. Other than that, well… I guess I wouldn't mind doin' all that other stuff." 

"So if we both had a crush on each other, would you see yourself on a date with me? If you can't use me as an example, imagine someone else you're more comfortable with."

He looks away again. Still, he nods. "Just with none of that steamier stuff. I've heard some of my co-workers up here say they're all about this and that, and how often they do stuff like that with their partner, but I just can't really see myself in a situation like that one -- Or just… Not yet, at least."

"That's normal, then. Intimate stuff like that isn't for everyone." Your smile grows at the feeling that you're making progress with Papyrus's request. "Some are just fine with what you said, and others don't even have a need for romance in their lives. Just like marriage and children aren't for everyone, romance and sexual intimacy aren't, either."

"Thanks," he says, meeting your eyes with a less tense gaze of his own. "How did ya learn 'bout this kinda stuff, by the way? I think maybe Alphys and Undyne know a bit about this themselves, but, uh… I never had the guts to talk to 'em."

You grin. "So you ask a complete stranger about it?"

Thankfully, he knows you're joking and follows up to it by jabbing your side with his elbow. "You caught me in a vulnerable state."

"How so?" you ask, scooting closer on instinct.

"Things are different here at the Surface," he replies, suddenly wistful. "When you passed out yesterday, that reality hit me, and so I kinda just… froze at the thought of losing you."

"How's it different down there? Does… Does that mean if I were there, I wouldn't die as easily as I would here?"

"Not exactly. There's just a different system down there, and it helps strong-willed humans have a second chance and more at life."

"But strong-willed could mean both good people and not, right? How would you deal with bad ones, if it came to it?"

"That's where the whole situation with your kid takes place. It's not that we wanted to hurt 'em, but that there were plenty of factors that made us view humans as a threat back then. It was them who taught us there's another way around it. But then again, I think those points you've made're important, and that you really shouldn't just forgive us outta-"

"Time's up, mister Serif. The patient has other people who want to see them."

Nearly disheartened by how time runs short, you end it on that and make a (metaphorically) telepathic note to continue with the conversation during your tour, something you both agree on with a nod. There would be plenty of time to talk about that there, though that's not to say you don't want to have all that information discussed right here and now. "I don't think I've said this before, so… Thank you for all your help. I'm not sure I'd even be here if you hadn't been there at the bus for me." You pause and smile. "Friendly hug?"

Sans chuckles and sits down again. "Friendly hug." He takes up your offer faster than the first two times since you first met him. It feels far more natural now, almost as if the previous two had been reciprocated to, but with that doubt still on his mind, weighing him down. "This's probably really damn weird, but you're kinda… comfortable to hug."

"Okay, yeah. That's kinda weird." You laugh. "Comfortable as in soft or warm or-"

"Comfortable as in I could easily fall asleep on you if you keep huggin' me like this. But yeah -- That's probably the reason why."

"So you'd say you like cuddling, then?"

"Definitely better than all that other stuff."

"See that?" You let go of him and let your smile grow. "You're understanding yourself more already. That's good!"

"Is it? I thought I was too old for that."

"Oh, come on." You judge him. "You're a science wiz, aren't you? People all experience things differently and at different stages. You're being rude to yourself. Just give yourself a chance to grow and understand yourself a little more!"

"I'd hate to break you two up, but people are waiting outside."

You both freeze at the sound of the nurse's voice being so close now. She's standing nearby now rather than simply waiting by the doorway, an observation that makes you question just when she'd come closer and how much she'd heard you talk as a result. Still, she doesn't appear fazed nor bothered by anything, so you take it she'd either just arrived at your side or had found a way not to overhear while she waited.

"The doctor should be here soon, so we have to cut your visits short."

In compliance to her words, you wrap your conversation up with the skeleton and tell him you'll message him over your next tour date. You would need a little more time to recover now, so it would only be common sense to check through your schedule, sort things out with your job, and manage how you would deal with Frisk's school days and homework. The monsters were already doing you plenty of favours, and yet you only knew two of them in person, three if you counted how often you talked with Toriel through phone and video calls despite not visiting her home to this day. Asking them for any more help than what they were already giving was out of the question. 

Even if such fantasy-like beings existed, that didn't mean they were as magically potent as most books made them out to be. At the end of the day, they were living, breathing beings just like you, with lives of their very own and troubles just like any other human being you knew. What made you different were your appearances and customs, and even then that was something that could be overlooked with due time and mutual understanding, as it isn't as important as who they are and what they do to live each day like you did with your own.

"Let me know if ya need help with Frisk's school," Sans says, already standing near the doorway. "You can't recover if you don't look for help."

And with that, he leaves.

Whether you were an open book or he a mind reader, you can't tell for certain, but if there's one thing you could use presently, it's words like those.

You barely have a chance to say thank you as other visitors step inside, some familiar and some not.

Chapter Text

"Two at a time, please."

The first two visitors to enter after Sans are Frisk and Toriel, both who carry bags in their hands and smiles on their faces. The goat lady's the first to approach you while your child stays back, observing from the distance of the open door and waiting until you both greet each other. You'd seen her plenty of times before through video calls, and you'd listened to her speak about twice as many times through regular phone calls. Seeing her right at the foot of your bed is a different experience in itself, and you have some trouble adjusting to her presence just as you did with Sans's. It's like you've been dragged right back into a fantasy novel, though this time, there's a lot more of those magical beings waiting for you besides the two skeletons you'd gotten to know so far and the few groups of bunny, bear, and fish people you often saw shopping, driving, or near their apartments, going about their day-by-day. 

"How are you feeling?" Toriel asks, taking a seat near your bed when you suggest her to. "Frisk made you this soup, and they packed up more clothes for you while you're discharged from the hospital." Her smile turns brighter as she offers you a large and heavy, plastic container wrapped in a paper bag. It's still warm on the surface and warmer still below, though she seems to have already anticipated that based on the kitchen mitten placed underneath the bowl. You set it aside when you notice she plans to give you something else and sit straighter in bed to make it easier for her to approach you. "There are also some sweets we made yesterday, so do not be ashamed to eat now while the food is still fresh. You must eat well if you want to recover sooner!" Yet again, you set the bowl aside and wait as she retrieves something else from within all the belongings she has with her. "And this is your substitute phone while Alphys fixes yours. She could not make it today, but she gave me this and told me to take your phone to her after I visited you. Or you can also use the address on the card she gave you if you need time to transfer any information to your new phone."

"Fix it?" you ask, eyes wide. "Isn't it already enough that she's giving me a substitute one, though? I can send mine to fix on my own! It's okay."

"No need -- It's alright." The goat woman shakes her head and softens her smile. "She insists, and she will have no trouble fixing it for you! But do give her a call later on if you remain unsure. I do not wish to impose on you, after all!"

"Thank you." You look around and hesitate with how many things you have with you now. "...For everything, really."

"It's no trouble. Frisk made most of it!"

"No, I didn't." Frisk's voice is sudden but soft, amusement shown through a smile. "You helped me with almost everything!" They take a pause to grin, face almost bursting with excitement as a result. "You should've seen her yesterday. She was all worried about you and saying stuff about how much she wished she could've met you sooner to help you out more! She-"

"That's enough, dear," you intervene, shushing them further by gesturing for them to approach your side; Toriel stands up and allows them to sit near you instead, providing you with the needed privacy to have a talk with them.

When they're closer by, you speak in a calmer, hushed tone, against being too loud with your scolding in public. "You're being far too nosy, and you're being disrespectful to miss Toriel. I get that you're excited, but you have to be a bit more aware of her feelings before you say stuff like that out loud. She might take it the wrong way."

Frisk pouts but relents after, smile returning as they nod once. "Okay, but…" They frown and tilt their head to the side. "Why is it disrespectful?"

"Frisk-"

"I- I mean it! I…" They sigh and deepen their frown. "I really don't get what I did wrong."

You direct a stern look at Frisk until you decide their words are honest. Then, you ponder over them, not quite sure over how to explain yourself. "It's, well..." You stop, hesitating over your word choice. "It's what you said about Toriel being really worried after she heard the news about me. Maybe you didn't do it with any bad intentions, but compare that to that time you said I only text auntie and Sans. Aren't they both similar, in a sense? You're saying stuff about people that might sound too rude or too personal for you to be talking about it in this way." You take a pause and wait for them to follow up with your explanation. "How do you think I would've felt if you said that stuff in front of a whole bunch of people -- that stuff you said about me having no friends and all that?" You smile and place a hand over their head as a way to inform you're not angered by those past actions. "Do you... Do you understand a bit better now?"

It takes a while of silence before they nod, though when they do, their frown's gone and replaced by a grin. They face your eyes, more confident now. "I get it now!"

"Are you sure?"

"Really, really sure."

"Alright," you say, taking a breath as you consider your next words. "Then let's compare these two things, just to be safe…" You take another quick break, formulating the scenarios in your mind. "What if you caught me singing off-tune in the shower, or snoring really loud one day? And what if you caught one of your classmates making fun of someone else, or someone kicking or mistreating an animal? ...Which one's best to keep quiet about, and which one isn't?"

Silence follows after your question once more, though Frisk soon replies with, "The last two. If… If I see someone or an animal getting hurt, then I should look for help!"

You nod, though it's as if something possesses your brain and tongue when you say, "Then why haven't you told me much about those who hurt you at the Underground? Why are you trying to cover up for them?"

Thankfully, a headache wrestles your anger back down and reminds you to remain neutral over the subject, even if you did just want to see everyone related to the Underground as an enemy with the mere thought of any of them being accomplices to those who sought after your child. "I'm... I'm sorry," you say, huffing as you bring a hand over your forehead. "It's not the time for me to be bringing that up. But... You still have to tell me soon, okay? It'll make this easier for all of us."

"Would you like to talk about this with me, (L/N)?" Toriel asks; her furrowed brow and a faint frown show her concern over you, though it still doesn't help calm your own set of worries about how you should act around her kind and just how close could you allow yourself to be with them. "You should still rest up and eat now, of course, but would you like to visit my home after you're finished with your tour?" She forms a smile. "I can contact Alphys and the others to meet up there, as well, and we could begin to sort matters out with each other better!" Her frown fades completely as she beams at you, and her smile becomes contagious as she continues with, "Does… Does that sound alright with you? I have been wanting to get to know you better for some time now!"

Guilt becomes insurmountable the further you listen to her speak. Personal and emotional morals combat with more general and normative ones, worsening your already poor health and weakening your resolve. Still, you don't want to leave her hanging, so you nod and manage a smile back at her. "That sounds good. Should we... set up a date later through message, then?"

"Of course!" Her face brightens, and her body nearly perks up in response to your agreement. "It's no trouble at all."

The nurse warns Toriel over there being ten minutes left of her and Frisk's visit, so she cuts things short by hugging you goodbye and waiting for Frisk to do the same with you next. The goat lady leaves and waits behind the closed door, giving you enough privacy again in order to spend some last few moments with Frisk. They sit with you in bed and look up at you; it's evident they have plenty of questions they want to ask, though they stay quiet as they then look down, pout, and fiddle with their thumbs. 

While you give them time to adjust, you take another glance at everything that's waiting for you at the very side of your bed. With Frisk sitting to your left and all the stuff you'd been given placed on your right, there's barely any space left for much else. There's countless objects waiting for you to look through, from the soup and sweets Toriel handed over to the phone Alphys sent and the few other gifts and basic utilities Frisk continued to bring to your bed as they left and entered the room during your conversation with Toriel, these all given to them by those waiting at the door. It almost feels like a dream when you think about how much support this is compared to what you received from your family and past friends these days, but then again, there's the reminder of who these new people are and the reality of how little contact you had with friends and family over the past few months keeping you grounded to reality. Just as monsters had inadvertently tainted any possible, immediate trust with you by hurting the one closest to you, you'd tainted close bonds and relationships by neglecting them and yourself since matters became tough and tense for you, especially present in those two months since Frisk was gone.

The few monsters you'd met so far were kind and thoughtful, but then again, they were still only acquaintances you were barely getting to know.

And the only other family member who'd contacted you since Frisk's return besides the monsters was your aunt, but then again, you'd been a bit of a (if not a complete) jerk by neglecting their prior help and shutting yourself off from the world.

You don't tune into how far you've fallen into those thoughts until you have Frisk sitting on your lap, with one hand offering you a napkin and the other clenching onto their knee, worry being let out through it. "...What's wrong?" they ask, clenching both knees when you take the napkin. "You've been quiet for awhile, and you… You started tearing up all of a sudden."

Against making them fret further than they have already, you wipe your tears away with the napkin and smile at them. Then, you sigh and think matters through. The ache in your heart reminds you this is barely the beginning of your journey, and that -- just as you were cornered by that man at the bus -- there would be plenty more people like him observing and judging your actions, be it as directly as he had been with his confrontation, or similar to the subtle side eyes and quiet scoffs some of your neighbours gave you since the day Frisk fell into the Underground. It wouldn't be an easy battle, so feeling this weak right from the very start of it all makes you feel a lot more useless than you did prior to their return. Rancor and loathe against your own self heightens the longer you think about it, but one single sniffle heard from Frisk and the sight of them about to cry lassoes you back into shape, if only for the moment being.

"Frisk, honey," you say, words hushed as you bring them closer to you, hugging them tight. "I'm fine." You let them go and kiss their forehead, facing them after. I'm just… a little tired from everything that happened yesterday, but I'll be fine now that I'm here. So try not to worry so much, okay? I'll do my best for you as soon as I'm let out of here."

"But… But you'll still take care of yourself, right? I want to see you healthy again!"

"Of course I will." You chuckle, help them get down from the bed, and remind yourself you've already far from exceeded the time the nurse gave you for each visit. You've taken double the time to wrap things up with Frisk, so you make a mental note to make a more formal apology to her and to let the other visitors know about time crunch in the most polite way you can possibly think of. "Now go back with miss Toriel, alright? You have school in about an hour, don't you?"

They smile and nod. "...See you later?"

You smile back. "See you later, dear."

As they leave and their shape becomes nothing but a blur when they pass through the door, bitterness returns to your heart, and you succumb yourself to it until the nurse arrives to check up on you. 

The few monsters that were once waiting outside are now gone, though she gives you one last thing pertaining to one of them. "I advised the rest of your visitors to come back tomorrow if they were able to, though one of them still had something they wanted to give you before then."

"How many were there left?" you ask, taking the gift and setting it aside with the rest of the items laid in bed. "And I…" You feel embarrassment burn your cheeks at the thought of having delayed two whole visits in just one day. "I apologize for taking so long with…" You're not sure how to address your first visitor any longer; a vague and flimsy line between being acquaintances and friends was still present, though neither of you have acknowledged it as of yet. "Frisk, and well… the one who brought me here -- mister Serif."

The nurse's face soothes up with a grin she tries to fight back. "There were four more people waiting for you." Her grin fails to be kept back as she adds, "But did you not call him by his first name yesterday? I'm surprised you're being so formal about this now."

"It was in the heat of the moment." You let out a laugh when she does the same. "But honestly, I'm wondering if we're friends, or if he just... felt like it was his duty to be responsible over me."

She hums and taps her pen against the notepad in her hand. "Well, whatever the reason, I'm glad you have someone here for you. It's always nice to have support at times like these, don't you think so? That group of people waiting for you outside was a true sight for sore eyes!"

Chapter Text

It’s only when you’re halfway into touring through Toriel’s old home that you start to question how safe your decisions are.

Even if Frisk returned home safe and sound, that still doesn’t brush off your concerns over them covering stuff up for the monsters’ sake, and that still doesn’t negate the bizarre factor that you’re completely alone with someone capable of magic – teleportation and telekinesis, more specifically – adding to all that the poor state of your health and how it’s still far from achieving its full recovery.

“And this’s where they stayed before they left the Ruins,” Sans says, opening a door leading into a children’s bedroom, most of the space occupied by a bed, a wardrobe, and boxes of all sorts. Evidence of there being no one to habit or look after the room for what has to be a whole month now since the Barrier broke shows through thin layers of dust and dirt on most surfaces as well as cobwebs already strewn about the corners of the room. “You, uh, should probably wear this.” He offers you a piece of cloth – a bandana, to be more precise. You eye him over as you wonder where he could’ve possibly gotten it from and obtain an answer when he takes out another from his jacket’s front pockets. “It’s for the dust,” the monster explains, chuckling. “Even if it ain’t that bad, I don’t want you gettin’ sick again so soon.” When you give in with a smile, he adds, “…Thought I was tryna drug you or somethin’?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

“Well, at least you’re honest ‘bout it." 

You bite your smile back when he winks and look away after, still against befriending him too much with your current, limited knowledge of him. Then, you wear the bandana over your nose and mouth, though only after checking it hasn’t been tampered with; finally, you tie a firm knot and approach his side, kneeling down next to a large, wooden chest when he does the same. He wipes some dust off the surface, opens it, and reveals a set of Frisk’s clothes along with a few other stray belongings of theirs. Most of these are mundane and overall replaceable items, although invaluable in terms of fond memories – these you’d taken notice of their absence in your household whenever you cleaned Frisk’s bedroom during the time they were gone. There’s plenty of stuff inside, from an old and worn, plush keychain once carrying their own set of house keys to the comb they used for their hair whenever they wanted to leave it below their neck. These are enough for you to start thinking about the past again and its unavoidable whirlwind of 'what-ifs’, delaying whatever progress you were thinking of making in relation to moving on. "Tori stored everythin’ they left behind when they went off to Snowdin, so if you wanna take any of that stuff with you, it’s-”

You figure your eyes reveal you’re about to give into crying when he stops talking, so you sniffle and look away again, failing to stop yourself from tearing up more when he asks, “You doing okay?”

His leveled tone and the silence that follows after his question reveal his sincerity, though you don’t dare to look at him now that you’re near crying up a storm. Thinking about how different life would’ve been had Frisk chosen to stay here at the Underground with only Toriel by their side far from alleviates the situation and – rather – summons a tidal wave right into your tear ducts, finally evoking the waterways you’d long since been holding back. “I- I’m okay.” Your stuffy nose and stuttered reply demonstrate the complete opposite, something he appears to catch onto as well, judging by how he tries to get another look at you, only for you to shield yourself from his gaze again. “I just need a minute… But thank you, really.”

When you’ve managed to wipe your face clean from tears, you catch a glimpse of him as you look back to see what he’s doing. There’s a noticeable trace of remorse present in his irises, an expression he gives background to when he turns to you and says, “Sorry about that – It was tactless of me to show you somethin’ like this so soon. And what I said didn’t really top it off well, huh?”

His words are enough of a reason for you to face him with watery eyes once more. “N- No,” you say, words murmured as you manage a small smile. “You don’t have to apologize. That wasn’t rude or anything. This is your job – This is what you’re meant to show me, and I was the one who… who started imagining things in the first place.” Images of Frisk’s life had they chosen to stay with Toriel continue to flash into your mind, but you manage to push most of them aside to focus on what’s more important now. “It’s just, I… I can’t help thinking about how it would’ve been had… Frisk stayed here with you all.” With that being let out of your chest, you take a deep breath and stand up, dusting off your clothes when you’re done. “But now’s not the time for me to bringing all this stuff up.” You smile at him and add, “We have an agreement and a deadline. It wouldn’t be fair for me to hold you back like this.” You take a step back when he stands up, closes the chest, and turns to your side, somewhat wary of proximity now. “And you already did more than enough for me back at the hospital.”

Leaving the room is your top priority now that you feel yourself growing too wary of everything, from the tiniest noise the empty house makes to the smallest change you can catch in the monster’s face. Your walking pace is quick though restrained for the sake of politeness and discretion as you make way to the door; nonetheless, you have all your plans switched and delayed the second he places his hand over yours when you attempt to turn the handle around. Flinching is the first reaction he gets out of you, along with an instinct to push him away as far as you possibly can; still, you get a hold of yourself and only swat his hand away, a blatant signal for him to back away. Being aware of how helpful he’s been the past month delivers guilt into your mind almost immediately, though you can’t help feeling cornered by his presence the more you think and overthink about the situation, had he chosen to do his job as a sentry the proper way – had he chosen to show no lenience or remorse. Whether had most monsters shown Frisk mercy for the sole sake of them being a child or for Frisk offering that mercy back to the monsters in the first place leaves you questioning over what would’ve happened had a more grown and morally grey person fallen here instead.

Toriel would’ve most likely not seen you as someone to care after.

And, based on what little you knew about the monster before you and how his magic worked, he wouldn’t be so kind, either.

“What… What if I’d fallen, instead?”

You face him in the irises when you say that, and though every fiber of your being wants to apologize for nearly shoving him off of you, there’s that one persistent part in your brain insisting you do things this way. 

“I’m an adult, aren’t I? Did you all just show compassion because Frisk’s a child?”

“Some of the souls Asgore took were still children, so it’s not because of that.”

Your body turns cold and your eyes stay fixed on his face. How he dared to be so bold and maintain a sober expression throughout leaves you more and more worried over who you’re taking a tour with.

“Why would you say it like that?”

“'Cause I won’t get anywhere sugarcoatin’ the truth. Frisk made us see things differently, and that helped create a change in how we did things around here. So if you’d done the same thing, it wouldn’t have mattered whether you were a kid or not.”

“…And how can I believe you?”

“'Fraid only time will tell, pal.”

Well-aware you’re not ready to continue with the tour yet, you press your back against the door, brace yourself with a hitched breath, and take a good look at every possible change you can catch in the monster’s irises. Though you weren’t that good at reading facial expressions and lying was even harder to figure out the less you knew the person, his gaze doesn’t falter from yours and his choice of words along with his neutral tone are good enough to make you believe him for now – at least, sufficient for you to keep the tour going and not doubt over the reason why he’d helped you get to a hospital, doing almost everything himself for reasons unknown beyond a paper keeping you bound to being protected by him. “I’m sorry for pushing you like that,” you say, gaze faltering. “I didn’t mean to act that way, and I’m… I’m sorry if I hurt you.” You look back to him and see he’s returned to his normal self; his serious expression’s no longer present, but rather, his worryingly casual self makes its comeback – the one you saw most often on him regardless of how tense or dire a situation became.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” you ask, taking a step closer, fueled by worry and a lingering, parental instinct.

“Only my feelings – But just a lil’ bit, though.” he replies, grinning. “And here I was, thinkin’ we made it past acquaintances to friends.”

“Listen, I-”

“Don’t sweat it, pal. I’m only jokin’ with you.”

“Still, I owe you a lot. And it’s awful of me to be treating you like this. Are you… Are you okay with continuing with the tour today? I understand if you don’t want to anymore.”

“We can keep going.” He winks. “You said it was my job, wasn’t it? I won’t back away now, unless you needa rest or somethin’.”

With no further words exchanged between you, he helps settle Frisk’s belongings into your backpack and you both leave the room after you’re done.

The walk on the way to your next destination’s quiet, up until he’s about to push open the door leading to what you assume’s none other than Snowdin.

“That being said…” He looks at you then. “Do ya wanna rest and eat somethin’ now? It’s been a few hours since we met at the bus stop. And I’m pretty sure there’s a shopkeeper lady still sellin’ stuff around here.”

“Really? Even though everyone’s left?” you ask, following him along when he opens the door. It gives in with an abrupt, ear-piercing creak, and a frigid gust of wind quickly makes its way into the home; the harshness of the cold can be felt even through the jacket you’re wearing, though you don’t want to show further weakness. Keeping the bandana on seems useful for more reasons now, though you take it off your face and wrap it around your neck for more warmth.

“Believe it or not, the whole law 'bout this place bein’ dangerous gets bent easily whenever people wanna act as tourists on an island. The shopkeeper had no luck finding a job up there, so she saw that chance down 'ere and took it. It’s a bit of a sacrifice for her to keep living down 'ere while her family just keeps moving on, but she says it’s one worth taking.” He stops to look at you, as if having an epiphany. “But that’s just life in a nutshell, ain’t it? You’re pretty much doing somethin’ similar by getting to know us 'stead of just hating us right from the start, aren’t ya? Almost everythin’ worth doing ain’t easy, so we gotta give each other credit where it’s due.”

His POV

The human returns from the shop fifteen minutes later with a tray of cinnamon bunnies and two hot chocolates, both they seem to have trouble carrying when their glasses fog up with the steam rising from both desserts. Sans snickers at the sight, though he still approaches them and helps them carry the two cups back to his spot at the front doorway of Grillby’s old place, still warm with the owner’s leftover flame magic. Then, he sits back down with them there and observes as they take a pastry with a napkin and offer it out to him.

“Go ahead,” he says. “I’ve had 'em before, so I’d like to know what you think of 'em first.”

(Y/N) nods and brings the pastry to their mouth, taking almost half of it away in one bite. Sans tries not to stare for too long, though he finds that a challenge when their face lights up and their stance straightens, both of these already revealing what they think about the cinnamon bunny. “It tastes great,” they say, taking a break from eating to look at the three other pastries still left out on the tray. “And they’re cute-looking, too. No wonder this place is so popular!” They finish their first pastry and, with a new napkin, offer one out to him. “Now you have some,” they add, smiling at him. “Working on an empty stomach isn’t good for you.”

“A dead man talkin’ about a hanged one, huh?” he taunts, grinning at them. “When’s the last time you sat down to eat like this – without any rush?”

They roll their eyes, albeit playfully. “…When I had lunch with Papyrus a few weeks ago? And, uh… When Toriel and Brenda brought me food at the hospital, maybe?”

“See what I mean?”

“Oh, shut up.” They let out a laugh. The cinnamon bunny in their hand almost falls as a result of their outburst, but they manage to save it in a way that lands back on the tray, though still squishing up the shape of what once used to be a round bunny. “Look what you made me do!”

He looks down at the tray to see the situation’s even more catastrophic than simply the pastry getting squished up by the fall. One of the bunny ears isn’t there anymore and instead remains equally squished by the napkin they’ve yet to let go of. “It’s not that bad,” he says, snickering. “Missing ear aside, it’s well… still recognizable.”

Seeing an opportunity for him to try something, the skeleton moves a bit closer to their side, leans into the napkin in their hold, and bites on the missing ear, backing away after he has a secure hold of it. As expected – and in sharp comparison to the incident at Toriel’s old home – they aren’t on-edge presently and don’t flinch away when being in closer contact with him.

He gulps the bit of pastry down and spares a quick look at their face when he’s done, only to see them frozen in the very same spot they were left in before. “Uh… You okay?”

“Did you really just try that with me?” they question back, facing him with wide eyes.

Their previous stillness makes more sense now, yet right as he’s about to apologize and believe that he’s screwed up twice in one day, the human bursts out a laugh, sets the napkin down, and smacks his back, a playful act despite how hard they do it. “Nice one.” They chuckle. “Really wouldn’t have expected something so bold from you, but anyway…” They look at him with calm eyes – as if he hadn’t just crossed that many boundaries with them with one simple, yet highly invasive action. “That reminds me… How’s that self-discovery stuff going for you? Have you… opened up to your brother about this yet?”

He’s grateful they wait until a few passerby walk away before they ask that question, so he answers quickly with, “I’m still workin’ on it, but I do feel more comfortable now.”

They smile and all the (assumedly) fake shock from before fades when they say, “That’s great!” Just as he thinks things can’t get more flustering today, the human takes a new napkin and uses it to wipe something off his cheekbone. “You had some cinnamon on your face, by the way.”

“Thanks,” he says, facing away and taking in a sharp breath.

Hundreds upon thousands of questions begin surfacing into his mind, from something as simple as “What am I feeling right now?” and “Why do I even feel this way to begin with?” to “How did (Y/N) not freak the hell out when having me take such a risky move with that cinnamon bunny?”

Based on how they reacted when being put on the spot back at Toriel’s old home, they clearly weren’t ready for him to reveal whatever forlorn emotions he was beginning to feel recently.

And based on his own actions in response to those feelings, he clearly wasn’t, either.

Chapter Text

"Can I see your hand for a moment?"

The question's immediate, guilt pushing you to blurt it out the second you step foot out of Snowdin. Even so, he doesn't rush in giving you an answer and, rather, looks at you like you've asked the most absurd question of the century. "C'mon, pal," he says, sneering. "Don't tell me you're still worked up about this?"

Beyond pissed he's brushed it off so easily while you're still stressing your years out over it, you huff and hold back the urge to glare at him. "Yes, I am. Now can you show it to me, please?"

"Alright."

Sans gives in with a grin and takes off his gloves. Then, he shows you the hand you'd hit to reveal there's a reddish mark visible on it despite him being made out of bones. "See what I mean? Your hand's got a bruise on it!" You frown at the sight and take his hand, using your thumb to rub at the injury. "Does it hurt? I figured you could still bruise… But just, not like this."

"I'll be fine," he says, pulling his hand back. "That's probably just frostbite or somethin'." He walks with you to the nearby river and sits down next to it, letting his legs drape over the edge and shoes barely graze the surface of the water. "It'll fade after a while."

"At least let me try to do something," you say, persistent. You sit next to him and look at his hand again, now resting on one of the many puddles surrounding the floor. True to his word, the mark starts to fade with the help of the lukewarm water, though only slightly and -- when compared to his other hand -- it's clear as day the mark that's left is a result of you swatting his hand away earlier. "Give me your hand."

"In marriage?"

You bite back a smile, caught off guard more than you would like to admit. "Are you that set on teasing me like this from now on?" you retort, maintaining a stern look throughout. "I thought you said you weren't interested in this kind of stuff?"

"Yeah, but flirting's different."

"So now you admit you're flirting with me?"

"You're not gonna give this a rest, aren't ya?"

"Not unless you show me your hand again."

"Fine." He chuckles, offering his hand out to you. "Go ahead."

You take his hand -- left bare now that he's not wearing gloves anymore -- and place it over your thigh as a makeshift table. Then, you take a first aid kit from your backpack and retrieve a few items from it. "Stay still," you say, facing his hand. "I'm not sure if human-made medicine works the same with monsters, but…" You disinfect the wound, rub some cooling gel over the burn mark, and stick a waterproof bandage on it after, all while ignoring how tense his hand gets until you're finished with the process. 

"Nervous?" you ask, grinning. "Your hand's all stiff now."

"I thought you said you would give your own teasin' a rest?"

"It's not teasing if it's the truth."

The conversation's ended on that when his phone starts to ring.

He stands up, reaches out for it and -- though he tries his best not to let it show -- it's made more than obvious he doesn't want you to see who the caller is by how awkward his body language gets. His irises jump from the phone and a nearby spot for him to possibly answer the call without any interruptions, to your face and the hand you healed up. A conflict seems to settle itself out in his mind when he decides to take the call right where he is, though still without revealing who the person is.

"Hello?"

The voice on the other side booms with a "Have you done it yet?", impatience present in their voice. It's a familiar sounding one, though you don't want to jump to conclusions yet with how bizarre the possibility is. 

"Tell them everything in detail, or I'll do it myself in front of a whole damn crowd," is another line you can hear from the person, how quiet Waterfall is allowing you to listen to them even as Sans tries to lower the volume some.

"I will," he mutters, a neutral tone masking the subtle, annoyed look on his face, completed with him rolling his irises. "Just gimme a sec, will ya? I'm kinda in the middle of somethin' right now."

The skeleton hangs up after that and lets out a quiet sigh. He seems troubled in more ways than one, something that increments when he makes eye contact with you. "You, uh... probably heard that with how loud he was, huh?" he asks, hangdog. "It's about time I told you more about myself, though. So it's only fair."

"What do you mean?" You frown, stand up, and take a step closer to his side; fighting back the urge to push any further is almost impossible to do, yet you try it either way. "And... Who was that?"

"You probably won't like the answer to that last question, but, well…" He scratches the back of his neck as he takes a breath. "He basically gave me a deadline for me to tell you all about who I am, and who I used to be."

"Who is he, then?"

"Your ex."

An instinct to retreat from the conversation arrives at the mention of that man, though you push through it. Running away from the subject wouldn't do you good anymore, especially now, taking into consideration how Jerry's apparently given up on trying to communicate with you through text, and instead chosen to place the burden on others rather than by approaching you directly. "Block him," you blurt out, anger nulling your subtlety and tact. "And if he's blackmailing you into this, I'll deal with him. Even if he wants you to confess about everything, he still needs to be way more upfront about it. Hiding behind threats and text messages won't do him any favours on my part or anyone else's."

He sits down with you again. The rippling and bubbling sounds of the waterfall clashing with the river help soothe the tension between you, aiding you both in finding the will to carry on with the conversation. It's likely a busy place like a city on a Monday or the shop back at Snowdin wouldn't've been adequate places for you to discuss this with him, so you bask under the calm and silence of Waterfall as you wait for him to decide on what to do. "I mean it," you say, facing him. "If he's threatening you, I'll talk with him. It's no use for you to tell me everything by force than through honesty -- like you've done so far. It… It feels more genuine, and I like it better that way."

You break your gaze away and carry it over to the river, casting it down to look at your reflection in the water. Your fingers brush with the surface as you continue to wait for him to speak up, and a ghostly warmth stays on your fingertips despite the anticipation of the water being cold, a brief sensation that fades when you pull your hand back. Your skin glows with the help of the echo flowers spread all around the area, and the near translucent water serves as natural lighting for the mellow darkness of your surroundings. Of all the places you'd been given a tour of since arriving at the Underground, Waterfall was by far the most breathtaking of them all.

"It's fine," he says, casual self returning. "I was gonna tell you along the way to Hotland, either way."

"Pinky promise you're not being forced by him?" you ask, looking at him once more and offering him your pinky.

His nose cavity flares as he lets out a laugh, though he still extends his pinky out and locks it with yours. "Pinky promise I'm not."

The mood leftover after the promise begins to vanish when Sans starts to talk about what Jerry called him for, and it takes a turn for the worse when the monster reaches the topic of Toriel and her relationship with Frisk.

"So she really let them go all alone?"

"Yeah, but after she tested to see if they were strong enough to. The kid wanted to explore beyond the Ruins, and so she let them go after that."

He's explained everything the man at the bus yelled at you for, though -- of course -- in a much calmer, detailed manner than him.

"She cared so much for them, that at the end of it all, she even asked them if they wanted to live with her at the Surface."

"Y- You mean as her child?" you ask, voice breaking with your shock. "Why would she even ask that? Did... Did Frisk never tell her they ran away?"

"Not until the Barrier broke," he replies, kicking a stray rock into the water. It makes the surface ripple further and -- once it reaches the bottom -- it starts to glow, resembling the rocks visible in the Underground's makeshift, starry sky. "They said they had somewhere else to be, and that's when they told her all about you and how they wanted to go back home."

"So if they were angry at me, I… I might've never seen them again?"

Anger mixes with your lament, troubling you to the point where you can't judge the situation rationally anymore -- or without being influenced by your emotions so heavily, at least.

"Are you… Are you really telling me she would have replaced me as a parent? I… I-"

"Whoa there," he intervenes, letting out a nervous laugh. "That's not what I meant by that. She didn't know until after she asked them that, so what I'm sayin' is-"

"She wanted to keep Frisk as her child, Serif. That's enough of a reason for me to feel angry about this." Your voice raises and a glare shows up on your face. He stands up in response to your change in mood and tries to ease you out of your anger by offering a hand out to you. "I… I'm more than relieved she looked after them for so long, but… But couldn't she ask them over why they fell down here? Why didn't she ask them if they had someone to look after them way before that, and why did she try to keep them in the Ruins rather than help them journey through the Underground safely?"

"Now that's a bit complicated for me to explain, but…" He sighs and looks up at you when you take his hand and let him help you stand up again. "At the end of the day, it's better if she tells you all about that herself. She understands why she did that better than I ever will, and she can tell you stuff I otherwise won't be able to tell you without her prior knowledge." Although he doesn't have a throat, he almost seems to gulp with the next pause he takes. "But, well… If you need more context as to why she was so attached to Frisk as a parent, she lost both her biological son and adoptive kid way back when."

Your eyes falter in their glare when he says that, though your own emotions still keep you from softening up in response to such a reveal. Respecting Toriel's privacy by not forcing Sans to tell you all about her seems like the most humane thing to do even more now, so you let your glare fade away and ease in with a smile, fueled by sympathy. "...Alright," you say, letting out a breath as you allow your body to free itself from tension. "I understand, and I'm… I'm sorry for prying into this. I didn't know."

Expecting more words from him, you're contradicted when he only chooses to smile back at you and nod. "Anythin' else ya wanna ask me about myself, though? Take a breather, and tell me when you're ready to talk some more."

"Thank you."

You take up his advice and take a moment to compose yourself. You start by looking for your medicine and taking the one you need to for the hour it is; then, you drink some water and take a look at yourself through the river's reflection to see your eyes are already on the verge of watering up again. Continuously feeling sad over the past is almost a trademark of yours now, so you want to shatter that custom by mustering up as much emotional strength as you possibly can.

When you're more confident with yourself, you put the medicine back and drink the rest of the water, storing the empty bottle away after. 

"You were a sentry for the Underground, weren't you?"

The skeleton either didn't hear you, or your question's caught him off guard, the latter you try to discard when you see he's busy helping a small bird cross the waterfall, it's wings too weak for it to battle against the wind caused by the strength of the rushing water. He walks back to the river after that, though once he makes it back with you, it's noticeable how he's chosen not to answer your question yet, judging by the way his irises divert from yours the second he tries to look at you in the eye. "...Yeah," he says, finally managing a reply. "I know we've talked about this before, but… Could you still promise me you won't freak out too much? Or at least, well... Not at the same level as that guy back at the bus? Not that I don't want you to feel upset, but I just don't want you to end up in the hospital again because of somethin' like this."

"Believe me, I won't," you say, voice and gaze both stern, albeit softened by his words. "That's the last thing I want. But… Could you still tell me more about you in that sense? I want to know more about what your job as a sentry implied -- to more detail, I mean."

"Go ahead," he says, nodding. "I'll try to answer with as much depth as I can."

Chapter Text

Thankful he seems to be taking this just as seriously as you are, you begin with, "Back at that restaurant, you mentioned you could've most likely hurt anyone who passed beyond the Ruins, regardless of who they were, right?" He nods, so you add, "Why did you choose not to hurt Frisk, if that's the case? What…. What stopped you this time around?

"It used to be like that, yeah," he says, blunt. "But I made a promise not to do that not long after I was assigned to the job. Not that I even, well, favour killing innocent people to begin with, but that was the job assigned to me back then."

"And couldn't you have searched for another solution?" You're left in disbelief and think on how closely his words match with the rumours beginning to rise about monsterkind, most of it leaked by people like the man on the bus after your hospitalization -- through clips and videos of your incident at the bus, all of these posted on social media. "Just how many lives did you take before you made that promise?"

Your initial, more tolerant view of Sans diminishes the longer you give thought to that interrogative. 

Monsters were said to be merciful and kind, yet the first rumour you unmasked as true since that day at the restaurant was that of Asgore having ordered to kill seven humans for their souls?

"You-" you stutter, ire clouding both coherent thinking and structure alike. "You're just another hypocrite, aren't you?"

You peer down at him, his shorter height helping you maintain authority from within. 

"Frisk talks all about how kind, nice, and friendly you monsters supposedly are, but in the end, you- you've spilled just as much as blood as any other human being." Your voice breaks, the thought of Frisk passing away in the hands of a monster sending further ire down your body. "Frisk could've died in the hands of people like you, so I have no right to listen to how you deserve seeing them again, let alone a goat lady who claims she sees them as her child instead of mine." The thought of Sans being more guilty of a person than you once thought crumbles whatever kind view you had since meeting him. "I… I refuse to let Frisk see any of your kind again!"

A near foreign expression reaches his face just then -- almost hurt weren't you so used to him being all chill and unbothered a solid ninety-nine point nine percent of the times you've been around him. You refuse to believe he's been hurt by your words, though that changes when you see him recover from that expression once you don't show any signs of backing away from what you said. His irises turn dim, though he tries to recover with a soft breath out.

"And then... That's it?" he asks, masking whatever emotion he was feeling just a second ago. "So even those who haven't done anything bad get repercussions for it?" The patience in his tone snaps, though his expression remains the same, mellow and waiting for you to regain some calm yourself. "Humans have done more harm than we ever have. Asgore did that just so we could be set free."

"And you think that makes you guys doing it justifiable? Maybe six deaths seems trifling over your freedom, but did you consider those people before ending their lives?" You're quite frankly pissed now, incapable over -- and unwilling of -- hearing him speak without wanting to snap at him with every response he gives you. "Did they willingly sacrifice themselves for your kinds' freedom, or did Frisk have to fall down here and make you understand none of this was ever okay?"

The monster tries to reach a hand out for you, yet you avoid him, only realizing why he does that when you trip, hitting the edge of the river. He grabs your arm to make up for it, though you prove to be too heavy for him, sending you both to the water. A loud splash accompanies your fall, yet the strangeness of not feeling wet prompts you to open your eyes then, these having instinctively closed the second you tripped. Limbs left uncovered sting with the strength of the fall rather than over water splashing you, and that observation finally makes you look around to witness a thin veil of blue magic keeping you from falling into the water.

"I get that, as a parent, you're overreacting right now, but I'll stand by what Frisk's said about you and what I've learned about you since we've met." A beat of silence passes as he waits for you to calm down. "I know you're still a patient person underneath all that you're pullin' off on me."

"All that what, exactly?" you ask, a glare returning to your face. "And you think I'm overreacting? Didn't you hear what I said?"

"I heard you, and I know my kind's gonna pay for the damage they caused to other people." You try not to wiggle away and stay under him with how fragile his magic seems, so you're forced to look up at him as he stays hoisted over you. His hands are kept suspending the faint, magic veil, preventing the two of you from falling into the water. "If it makes ya feel any better, I'll let you in on a weakness I've got." 

He sits up on the veil and takes your arm again, trying to sit you down with him. You resist, waiting until he stands up and walks back to firm land for you to do the same. 

"My magic relies on Karma, meaning I couldn't possibly do you nor your kid any damage, if I even tried."

With him sounding so tired now, you can't decipher much over his change in tone. He has his back turned to you all the while, though his magic remains underneath you, still keeping you from falling into the water. His hands slip into his pockets and his veil disappears only after you climb out of it and make it back to stable ground. 

"If nobody does any damage, then nobody gets hurt. Simple as that. Your kid didn't hurt a fly goin' through the Underground, so even if I would've attempted to hurt them in any way, it wouldn't've had any effect."

You find it hard to believe him, yet follow along for the moment, eager to see where this would lead on to. "...So that means it doesn't work the same for all monsters?" You pause, considering his words and the abilities his younger brother had shown when play-fighting with Frisk the last time you picked them up at Toriel's home -- the day Frisk managed to convince you over continuing to be tutored by both Toriel and Sans alike. Thinking back on that day also brings back the memory of the gift Sans had given you, though you brush it off as quick as it comes to avoid being influenced by any of it.

Clearly, Papyrus was capable of attacking no matter what the circumstances were if he could use his magic to simply play around with Frisk, but then what about him?

What made Sans the exception?

"What are you supposed to be, then?"

"That's a bit of a rude question, don't ya think?" He turns back to you, an amused glint present in his gaze and grin. "No offense, pal, but I'm tryna be patient with ya here. And you're makin' it hard by being so stubborn." He chuckles, winking at you. "Though I guess that makes sense, considerin' how determined Frisk is. Like parent like child, huh?" His gaze lingers on yours as he says that. "We'll hafta go to Hotland now to make that fiery attitude and hotness of yours match with the climate."

"...Did you just wink at me?" You tense up, the lilt you catch in his words worsening your assumptions over that action. 

Of course, you'd seen Sans do that countless times before -- regardless of family, friend, or even yourself at certain times -- but his current tone and the subtle and upward, goofy curve to his grin makes it feel as if he's far from being friendly about it. "Oh, God. Are you hitting on me for real now, Serif?"

Finally, for what once seemed like a skeleton too laid-back for his own good, he shows shock through the tense of a smile and the flicker of his irises. His posture turns awkward and confidence vanishes from it, only masked surprise remaining. 

"...What?" That's the only thing he manages to say, gaze landing on your hand, a ring found on it. "Whoa, whoa, whoa there, pal," he blurts out, a chuckle bursting through, more nervous than humoured in comparison to past times. "Don't, uh, jump to conclusions so fast. I know Jerry's not in the picture anymore, and I dunno if you're seeing someone else right now, but..." He falls flat on his words, a hand going to the back of his skull, scratching it as a befuddled look overcomes him. "Are you? 'Cause ya found me out, if ya really did think I was flirtin' for real now."

"I'm not seeing anyone," you reply, letting out a sigh as you bring a hand to your nose, massaging the bridge in search of calm. "But what made you think it was okay to try and flirt with me now of all times, if I'm here barking at you like this? Sucking up to me won't erase my anger." You let go of your nose, forehead creasing as you take a quick breath in and chest tightening when you try to let your pride and grudges go, needing more humility for your next statement. "I'm eternally grateful your kind looked after Frisk while I wasn't there, but I just... I simply can't let things like what Asgore ordered to be done to my kind or even what Alphys supposedly did to her own kind slip by. I know I'm still only just figuring stuff out, but if these rumours have some truth in them, I… I don't think I'll be able to let this go so easily."

"So you acknowledge you're overreactin' a lil'?"

"I'm not. I'm simply calling your kind out on their hypocrisy." 

Sans returns his hand back against his neck and stretches it; how restless he looks makes you believe he's close to running out of ways over getting back into good terms with you.

When he lets go and huffs, patience returns, though not nearly at the same level as when he first approached you about the subject. "Even so, I... I'd say you're still overthinkin' some stuff up. Tori didn't even say she wanted to keep Frisk's custody all for herself. She just wants to see the kid every once in a while -- like she's doin' right now."

Notwithstanding, you place your hands on your hips and refuse to let your scowl fall, your display of gratitude from earlier ago seemingly nowhere present anymore. "Say what you want, but I still think it's ridiculous I have to let this matter go just like that."

He rests his back against a nearby, rocky wall, gaze facing down and focusing on a puddle. "Have it your way, then. I still think Frisk should decide if they want to see us or not again. 'Cause at the end of it all, they proved themselves capable enough to free us from the Underground all by themselves, and that's enough for me to give them merit over their capabilities for a lifetime."

You don't say anything back and lay against the rock next to him, eyes landing on the waterfall and the river bubbling with its force.

While you knew it was unreasonable to prevent Frisk from seeing every monster around rather than a few of them, you refuse to give in anymore. Pride over being right in your judgement drowns every other sense of amiability. You had to stand your ground now that you'd gone this far; backing away would only show your weakness.

Silence keeps itself between you for some time, broken by him not long after your mind comes up with the idea of exploring the Underground on your own. Having him show you around didn't seem so fitting anymore. "So... You're really not seeing anyone else? But then why the ring?"

His question takes you off guard, until you think back as far as three whole years ago, back when Frisk was still a toddler. They'd used two quarters to buy you a faux silver ring rather than the bubblegum they mentioned they wanted to try out; they gave it to you with as much pride as they did when telling you about a good grade or deed, and to quote, "It's to replace the one you had before!" -- 'one' referring to the one you stored away for emergency funds not long after ending things with Jerry. To this day, it's still right where you hid it -- and thankfully so. You hoped then and even now you still hope over never having to sell that ring away for funds; not because of any emotional attachment whatsoever, but due to you wanting to strive your best in order for Frisk to live a good life.

It's almost a vital part of you now, and -- hadn't Sans asked you about it -- you wouldn't've acknowledged it to such an extent.

You quirk a brow as you give thought to his question -- sounding genuine despite how blatant it is -- and find it difficult to answer despite how long it's been. Caught on a weak spot, you cross your arms and look away the second you meet with his irises, beyond embarrassed. "Frisk, um... Frisk gave it to me as a gift -- some time after my divorce."

"Ah." It's almost as if you can feel when his posture tenses again, a strain present in that sole sound he lets out. "Sorry 'bout asking."

Again, he sounds earnest, though you're not about to befriend your antagonist. "It's alright. But please don't try to flirt my anger away ever again."

A more brazen look takes him over, and you can only brace yourself for whatever he plans to say next, his intent on pissing you off clearly set on high. You engage in a staring contest as you wait, arms now crossed in a more defiant manner -- firm over your chest. If the monster said you were stubborn, by the Sky above, you would stay true to it. If he was set on teasing you to such an extent, you would do the same, multiplied by ten. An easy fight was in no way an honourable one.

"Enemies to lovers is a thing, though."

"Only in low-quality romcoms."

Chapter Text

Week two into clearing out the air between you and Frisk's monster friends arrives much faster than you would like.

With all the pent-up frustration you'd let out during the first half of your tour and how you ended up postponing the other half prematurely precisely due to that, you don't really want to visit Toriel's home anymore. Even if she did invite you over for a chat at her place back when you were still at the hospital, and even if you did tell her you would set up a date with her soon, you assume she's already long forgotten about that promise, and the mere thought of asking her where she lives now that she's moved on from an apartment to a house is far too much for you. 

Are you available today?

I would like to fulfill what I promised you at the hospital, if so.

If not, do let me know when you are free.

Here is the new address.

>> Attachment - 1 image

If you are not certain over how to make it here, I can gladly pick you up during your lunch break, or after you have clocked out of work.

Or I can ask another person to help you get there.

Just make sure you do not eat anything before visiting, so I can prepare either lunch or dinner for you and everyone else here, depending on when you arrive.

Take care. ]:)

But, of course -- and as fate would have it -- she'd sent you a string of messages first thing in the morning today. 

She'd even sent you a picture with her new address, detailed to such a point where you really wish -- now that you see who the person is -- you hadn't agreed with her on having someone help you find her new home.

"Jump in," Sans says, opening the front passenger door of what you can only assume is Papyrus's car based on the stories Frisk told you about him. "We'll make it there in less than an hour -- just in time for you to make it back to work later."

Between Toriel's sudden message, what happened back at Waterfall, the cloudy weather rushing you to make a decision, and just who's the person the goat lady's entrusted to help you out, it's almost impossible for you not to stress any more than you have already.

You're still too worked up over what was revealed to you at Waterfall, and you still can't shake off the extreme caution you've now built around the same person meant to keep you safe in the first place, as far as having to remind yourself not to be as on-edge as you'd been the time he tried to console you when you started tearing up back at the Ruins.

That reminder makes you look at the monster again, though without a friendly tone or look present, mind once again fueled by your urgent need to put up a front around him.

"What makes you think I'll hitch a ride from you now of all times?" you ask, remaining in place. "And with questionable music, to top it all off."

While you're usually not one to make shallow judgements based on personal taste, you can't ignore how obvious he's being with you right now. There's a bell of warning ringing at the back of your head with the low rumble and suggestive beat of the song playing on the radio, and his beyond relaxed driving pose. Only one hand's on the wheel, and the other's hung over the open window. He's either pretending, or he's for real about his attitude, something hard to tell after ending your tour with him at the Underground. 

"C'mon, pal. We know our names, met a whole month ago, and you know some of my past to more detail now, don't ya? I'd say we're still acquaintances, at the very least."

"I'm afraid I'll still have to refuse." You cross your arms and point with your gaze at the minivan parked not far behind him. "I've got my own car to drive in. I can follow behind you."

The skeleton's gaze follows yours, and his grin almost stretches when he gets a good look at where you're pointing at. "A minivan?" His irises light up and he snickers, a rumble similar to the song's leaving him. "You really are a parent at heart, huh?" His irises move on back to you, and you further shield yourself with the cross of your arms when you see he's now eyeing you up and down, a different light flaring in his gaze. "Don't think I've said this before, but you've got the looks of one, too." He winks. "And this's probably a bit off-topic and a whole lot personal, but... Has Frisk told you why they ran away yet, or are they still keepin' quiet about it? Jerry aside, you sound n' act like a good parent, as far as I've gotten to know you."

Sans hits another weak spot, one you try to mask by showing anger on your face, using the excuse of him having checked you out. "I doubt I should answer that to a guy who's just looked me up and down." You form a scowl, persisting. "You really have no shame left in you anymore, do you? If you hadn't been so honest with me at the hospital, I would've assumed you've got experience trying to woo people over -- even if you're not that good at it, in reality."

He grins and later shrugs; the arm hung over the window slips back inside the car and lowers the volume some. "Well, what can I say, pal? Ya don't wanna be acquaintances, ya don't wanna be friends, and you're set on me being your enemy ever since the tour. The only thing I've got left's to try flirtin' with you."

"You really don't." You huff and let your arms fall back to their rightful place, self-consciousness showing when you see his irises follow your movements. "Are you that intent on pissing me off from now on? Stop staring at me like that."

"If I stop, will ya try to listen? I just wanna help you and your kid out."

Humour vanishes from his skull; the serious note to his words is then augmented when he makes eye contact with you, music now low enough not to distract you anymore. "Fine." You look back to your car. "But I won't ride with you. I… I don't trust you enough to be all alone with you anymore." You pause and avoid any further eye contact, crossing your arms again when you feel too exposed from his earlier staring.

Being a full-time office worker and single parent, topped off with having to do almost all the chores around the house, meant little to no time for yourself, which in turn meant self-care was scarce -- a factor that tripled when Frisk ran away, made worse with how you coped with their absence. Barely eating anything throughout the day to later drown out your sorrows with the least healthy food there was late in the night -- mostly microwavable to avoid having to cook only for yourself -- had left an imprint on your body and health alike, and it shows to this day. Even if you were starting to get your social life back together and even if you were little-by-little going back to a better and healthier lifestyle, you were still far from being as active as you once were before Frisk went missing. The once natural huskiness and pudginess of your physique was something, but ignoring how that amount doubled over the past few months, how you lost what once used to be good stamina, and how you have stress acne all over your face is a whole different thing in its entirety.

This man was seeing the downright worse self you could possibly show to the world right now, both in terms of emotional and physical health. How he apparently gained a crush on you over the past month is an anomaly you rather wouldn't want to find an answer for currently.

"(Y/N)?"

You look towards the skeleton when he calls out for you, a bit off-put by him using your name. Truth be told, you'd already grown used to him calling you 'pal' or (L/N). Any other name besides those main two felt strange coming from his teeth. "You good?" he asks, a subtle furrow present on his skull. "You've been spacin' off for a while now."

"I'm good," you reply, careful not to let your voice break. It's not until you see him wipe the car door with his jacket's sleeve that you notice rain's began to fall, tainting the inside -- a cause of him having left the window open. "...You should close the window, Serif. I'll follow behind in my car."

"Ride with me." There's not a trace of humour left in him, though you still find it hard getting to take him seriously. "I promise I won't bother you 'til we get to Tori's."

"I still can't." You step back, eyes looking off towards the passenger door to see it left ajar, kept somewhat protected by the rain, yet still in wait for you. "Sorry, but I.... I really can't." Already feeling your work uniform starting to stick, you reach out for your bag and take a mini-umbrella out, shielding yourself from the rain with it. "Thanks for the offer, and for the tour last weekend, but I simply can't ignore how you looked at me just a second ago, and how you've been acting with me recently."

With how heavy the rain gets, you can barely see when the monster takes a turn to the left, forcing you to take a detour to the emergency lane and suck up a cry of frustration. 

Of course, accepting a ride in his car would've been much easier than all this, but then what about your integrity as a person? 

Some monsters were reported to have caused Frisk harm, one of them in particular said to have been a literal, killer robot, programmed by none other than Alphys, the same monster responsible for hurting her own kind through means of inhumane experiments. 

So if that was the case, who knew what that skeleton could be up to? 

Whether jokingly or not, you were far from trusting over his demeanor and were in no means wanting to leave Frisk under the care of him, Papyrus, Toriel, or anyone else anymore. After all, your ex-husband left the second he deemed himself too irresponsible to look after a child. So who's to say an utter stranger belonging to another species wouldn't do the same, or worse?

"I'm sorry to say this, but we're gonna have to stop here."

Once again caught daydreaming, you look to your left, the monster's muffled voice made more audible when you lower the window only slightly, keeping the rain outside. "It'll be hard gettin' anywhere with how strong it's pourin'." 

Sans is pretty much drenching himself, though your urge to let him in your car is held back when you question yourself over it. You chew on your lip as you think it through, clicking the switch the second after you scold yourself over your straight-up awful manners recently. "Get inside," you exclaim, huffing. "Don't just soak yourself for me!" 

Without waiting, you turn your back to him and reach out for the seat next to yours, opening up the front passenger door for him to pass by and closing it the second he's in.

"Wouldn't've happened if you'd just hitched a ride off of me. Or unblocked my number, at least."

"As if."

His breathing's scarce, and your questions over why he hadn't chosen to use magic similar to last time are answered to you when you remember what he said about Karma. 

"Use this." You offer out a towel to him, one you retrieve from within Frisk's leftover school supplies at the back of the car. "Why would you drive all the way back, park your car behind mine, and then get down from it even though it's pouring, all just to talk to me? Haven't I given off enough signs about us? Don't do this for me, Serif. I... I appreciate all your help, but I can handle this from here on out."

You find it hard not to stare when he slips off his jacket and throws it on his lap, revealing a bulky build despite him being a skeleton. He's soaked from head to toe, yet he pays little to no mind to it and takes the towel from your hands, patting it over himself a few times. "You done starin', pal?"

"How are you so… big-boned? I thought that was just your jacket adding extra bulkiness to you!" You look away when you realize just how plain and awfully rude you've been. It doesn't help when you remind yourself he's drenched because of you. "That was rude of me," you say, sighing. "I'm sorry." A strain takes over your chest and a frown accompanies it. "What I meant to say is, well…" You breathe out a sigh. "Why are you so… husky? Is that normal for skeleton monsters?"

"Just as normal as it is for you to have love handles. Didn't really notice the first few times we met, but you've gotta real (mom/dad) bod, if I do say so myself. Your work uniform kinda brings that out more."

You face him with wide eyes and keep your distance from him by scooting away, once more stricken by how much he's changed in so short of a time. What was once a level-headed and decent guy was turning out to be a much more brazen one -- a jerk, not so much yet, but boy, was he starting to cross a few boundaries every now and then. "So it's… not?"

"It's normal." He chuckles, honesty present in the subtle, hearty rumble of his laughter. "...You sayin' it ain't normal for you to have those? 'Cause Human Anatomy's taught me it is. Even more so if you're a single parent, since time's scarce and stress's more than bountiful. Don't really expect you to have your ex's six-pack abs if you're takin' up pretty much all the responsibilities of raising a family by yourself."

"Wh-" You ignore everything he's said and instead reply with, "...Why do you call them that, anyway? You know the scientific term for them if that's the case, don't you?"

"I do, but I kinda like calling 'em that more," he says. "It's a cute name for 'em."

If this was another way of him getting to try to flirt with you more, it was the weakest and most awful attempt yet. Whether he was joking or not didn't matter anymore, your desire to have him out of your life increasing with each second he spends inside your car. "You sure have plenty of guts for a skeleton, you know that? Never in my life would've I imagined someone would bring that up in a conversation." You sigh, breathe back in, and turn the air conditioner down a notch, annoyance helping further contrast the cold of the rain. "Are you alright with the cold, Serif? I know you lived at Snowdin, so I'm not sure if you're uncomfortable or not, but... I lowered it since you got rained on."

"Warmin' up to me already, pal?"

You throw another towel at the skeleton, and a scowl returns to your face. "Ask that again, and I'll kick you out for sure this time."

He laughs, taking the towel and draping it over his shoulders. "Duly noted."

With the rain forcing you to start up any means of conversation with the monster, you suck up your pride and unblock his number half an hour into your wait for the sky to calm down.

"I might have just enough energy to drive us there without havin' to wait so much for it to clear up," he comments, breaking the ice when you let him know he can call and text you again. "But I'm gonna have to take the wheel from here on."

Letting him drive is by far crossing the thick and neon line you've drawn between him and yourself, yet you can't exactly rule out his reasoning behind it. Before you can spell a 'why' in protest, he continues, preventing you from interrogating him again, "My normal magic's strong enough for small tasks, so I can try casting a veil over the windshield, kinda like how I did the last time you almost fell into the river."

It makes sense, though you hesitate, pride further shrunken when you realize you didn't exactly thank Sans for last time. "Won't it tire you out?"

"A lil', yeah. But it's better than waitin' some more, and I can just sleep that off as soon as we get to Tori's."

You face the wheel, reluctant to let go. "...Are you sure? But then what about your car?"

He nods. "It's already parked n' locked. We can think about that later."

Facing the rain, you bite on your lip and consider the options: either stay here for what you assume will be another hour alone with the skeleton, or agree with him and get to Toriel's on time. The meeting you have at work returns to your mental to-do list, influencing your thoughts on what decisions to make.

Sans was offering to help you out, but at what cost?

Would he bring it all up later and make mention of how much you owed him?

And then again, hadn’t he been obnoxious enough with his flirting for you to have a counter-argument about it? 

Whatever his reasons were for having offered to show you around the Underground with as much patience as he displayed and help you meet with Frisk’s monster friends -- going as far as to drive you to Toriel's new place by himself -- you truly don’t have time to delay anymore; the pending meeting is sufficient to remind you of that. As a result, you backtrack on your stubbornness, sighing out your frustration and letting go of the wheel after. “Thank you.” Glancing at the back of the car and later back at him, you give him another look of warning before speaking up again, “Back away first,” you say, lips a firm line. “If you're gonna move over to the wheel, you're way too close for what I’m about to do.”

"Sure." He grins, scooting away. “Whatever ya want, pal.”

You eye him over again, making sure he’s distant enough for you to move to the back; no way you were getting an inch closer to him physically. The proximity from his seat to your own is more than abundant already.

When you're certain he's not looking at -- or anywhere near -- you, you slip one careful step after the other into the backseat as best as you can. Caution over not letting him take a look at your derrière or anywhere else deems your movements clumsy. Your foot almost slips, though you catch yourself, resulting in a not-so graceful land, face hitting the seats.

“You can move over now," you say once sitting up straight. You fix your clothing and look back to the front of the car when you’re done. “I’m not doing that again with you around, so I’ll just stay here for the rest of the ride.” While you notice his irises have been gazing out at the rain thus far, you don’t exactly rule out the possibility of him having slipped in a look on you while you were moving to the back. Simply confiding the monster with your car was ample trust for one single day. Having given your back to him in the most literal sense possible was exceeding it.

“Noted,” he replies, laughing. “But don’t sweat it. If you’re worried about me ogling you, I only saw you climb over to the backseat, and nothin’ else. I don’t like lookin' at people that way.”

“Didn’t you do that barely a few hours ago, though?”

“I was mostly just distracted by how… different you look in your work uniform. Real different from your casual self, I'd say."

You face him with stern eyes, unamused. “Oh, that’s all, I’m sure." You scoff. "Dunno what's your type, but I've got to be the only human you've talked with so far if you've seriously got a crush on me."

"Why's that?"

"Haven't you seen me at my ugliest? I doubt I looked anywhere near attractive the day after I fainted."

"Last time I checked, a hospital's not a catwalk, ain't it?" He grins. "And who says I'm not into you? You're still a PILF, as far as my tastes go."

"What's that mean?" you ask, quirking a brow.

"An abbreviation for 'Person/Parent I'd Like to be Friends with'."

You're sitting straight on the backseat now, hands folded over your lap as you look to the windshield, distracting yourself away from his gaze. Worry over the rain not picking up makes you wonder if Frisk’s doing okay in Toriel's new home, and just what they could be up to with her and the rest of their monster friends. “Were you always this shameless and keeping that hidden? Or am I a special case for you?”

He winks and grabs the wheel without breaking his irises away from you, now staring at you from the rearview mirror. “Whatever you think it to be.” It doesn’t take more than another hostile look from your part for his smile to tense up again, irises almost appearing to do the same. “Damn." He whistles, looking away and grabbing the wheel tighter. “You’re a tough cookie, pal."

"Yes, and I have my reasons for it."

Chapter Text

Though your sense of amiability and acumen have warped themselves since last weekend, you feel some of that patience and kindness return when Toriel greets you into her new home, the scent of food and her smile soothing whatever anger you had prior to ringing her doorbell.

Sans gestures for you to go ahead first despite him being the most familiar with her and the most affected by the rain, but you persist in your manners and tell him to go change out of his clothes first and foremost. Though they're now dry from how long it's been since he got rained on, it's still evident and necessary for him to change out of them with how tired and disheveled he looks, wrinkled up clothes, slouched posture, and a tired gaze combining to make him look sleep-deprived. “I have a change of clothes in my car,” you say, offering him an abashed smile. “It’s a work uniform and probably a little too big for you, but…” You trail off and feel your face turn warm; remembering all his failed attempts at flirting with you doesn’t help with your situation. “You can still use them, if you want to.”

“It’s cool.” He keeps a neutral expression despite noticing how reluctant you'd acted with him just now, levels different from how you were with him back in your car. “I’m here pretty often, so I’ve gotta change of clothes or two stocked up. And I also gotta go pick up Papyrus first, so I’ll just freshen up after I’m done with that."

"You should still shower and change first." You frown at the thought of him driving out in the rain again, without rest or care over himself. "It doesn't matter if you dried off or not! You'll get sick if you don't take care of yourself first." You give him your car keys, your umbrella, and take off the suit of your uniform, giving him all three items as you add, “Ditch the jacket and wear this once you’re done freshening up.”

“Thanks,” he says after a while, voice quiet and gaze barely capable of looking straight at you without faltering. “But the keys ain’t really necessary. I can use my-”

“I insist.” You push the keys further into his hand, making him hold yours for just a second before you pull away. “Now go.”

The first thing Toriel gives you after Sans drives off in your car is a big hug and a firm hold on your shoulders, eyes facing yours with concern. "How… How are you feeling?" she asks, smile changing for a faint frown as she lets go and gestures for you to pass through. Your persistence on not doing that until you were sure Sans followed your suggestions had led to some small talk between you and her while you waited, but only talking about everyday matters and without being nowhere near as personal as she’s being with you right now, whatever concerns she’d been having since your hospitalization showing up now. "Lunch is ready, if you would like to eat now!"

How considerate she's being makes you regret the thought of bringing up the topic you discussed with Sans regarding her once wanting to adopt Frisk. You don't want to point fingers nor hurry into it yet, but there's something about her telling you she'd just finished picking Frisk early due to the stormy weather and that they’re currently sleeping at a bedroom made especially for them that makes jealousy spike within you. The thought of her being a better parent than you makes your stomach queasy and weakens your once tolerant mindset along with the strength of the promise you made of hearing the monsters' perspective before making any rash or abrupt decisions.

"There's no rush," you reply, smiling at her. "I can wait. I'm feeling okay, and I think it would be better if we all ate together instead.” 

You enter her home, welcomed by a near replica of her old one at the Ruins -- a great contrast from her former, minimalist apartment. Her new place is just as big as the one at the Underground, and with a similar colour scheme of mostly beiges and yellows, too. The only difference is the layout and furniture of the living room, decorated with two large couches and a small television, but even then the compact kitchen and the hallway leading off to more rooms seem similar to her old home. 

You sit down with her and toy with the sleeve of your shirt as you try to bring yourself to say something before engaging in any other, friendlier conversation with her -- beyond your small talk about how she and Frisk were doing while you were busy with work. "Would it be…" You hesitate; fear over being tactless makes you bite back your tongue. "Would it be alright with you to talk about something, well… kind of personal?” you ask, meeting her eyes. “The tour last weekend left me with some doubts, so I'd like to clear them out, if possible."

She looks at you with furrowed brows and a small smile, as if you’ve asked her something obvious. “Of course it’s fine,” she replies, shifting closer to you as she lays a hand over yours, hers fluffy and much warmer in comparison to a human’s. “What is it? Is it about what-”

Your talk is postponed before it can even begin properly, whatever she was about to ask you held back as you both move your attention to the new and old faces that enter the living room.

Papyrus is here, along with Sans, who -- clearly telling the truth about how weak his magic was when unprovoked -- now looks as exhausted as you often felt after a long shift at work. Even so, he doesn’t let that stop him from walking to your side and giving you your keys and suit jacket back. “Thanks for lendin’ me your car, pal,” he says, almost wobbling when he takes a step back. “Have you talked that stuff out with Tori yet?”

“Not yet,” you say, smile fading and forehead scrunching up when you get a better look at how different he seems compared to barely a while ago. “But should you really be worrying about that right now? You look exhausted!” You frown when you notice he looks twice -- if not, thrice -- as worse as he did when leaving to go find Papyrus. The time on your phone states it hasn’t even been thirty minutes since he drove off, so you wonder if he’d used any additional magic to make his trip shorter along the way.

“I’ll be fine. Just needa sleep a lil’ and I’ll be good as-”

Cards reversed, it’s now your turn to catch him when he stumbles again.

Before he can even say something in objection to your actions, you carry him off to the couch across from the one you and Toriel were sitting on and lay him there. “Rest for a bit.” You press the back of your hand against his cheekbone and check his temperature, felt considerably low compared to how warm he was on the few occasions when you hugged each other. “A shower and a change of clothes won’t do you any good if you don’t rest.”

"Didn't think I'd be gettin' my own, personal doctor today," he comments, returning to his brazen self despite how tired his voice sounds.

"Now's not the time for that, bonehead." You glare at him and press him back down when he tries to sit up. "Sleep, or I'll knock you unconscious myself."

Thankfully, he doesn't push further and does as told, falling asleep in the blink of an eye.

Try as you might, it becomes impossible for the good mood left behind since arriving at Toriel's place to stay intact.

Having nothing left to do but wash dishes and later wait for the rain to clear up made you gather the needed courage to ask her over that particular subject, yet you’re pretty sure you came off as rash at one point in beginning with the conversation. “Why did you want to adopt Frisk without knowing if they had fallen intentionally or not? And why didn’t you ask them if they had a family waiting for them before they went on a journey and broke the Barrier?” were reasonable and simple enough questions, though there was much left to be said about your tone and you adding, “Do you know how… how awful it felt when I was told you wanted to take them as your child, at one point?”

Three hours.

Only three hours into arriving at her new home, and yet your relationship with her was already becoming about as tense as Sans’s after your nearly ten hour long tour.

"I did not intend to take Frisk away from you, and I would have never asked them that, had I known they were missing you just as much as you were," the goat lady says, a smile showing through, though made pained by the furrow in her brow and teary eyes. "But I would still like to keep seeing them, if you allow me to." She breathes in. "And now that you require a babysitter, I can and would gladly continue to look after them while you work. They are very dear to me, and I cannot bear to never see them again." She breathes sharply again, holding back her gloom through those means. "I understand you may not trust us, but please do get to know us before you make your judgment, and perhaps then you will… understand we only want what's best for you and your child."

Calm down.

That’s a phrase you continue to repeat to yourself before opening your mouth again.

Nonetheless, you fail in doing that and come back at her with, "And couldn't you think like that back when your kind decided to attack them -- wanting what's best instead of letting them go alone, just like that?" You cross your arms tight and dismiss any thoughts about your missed meeting once more, too caught up with the current situation to give mind to your job. "I was told many of your kind attacked Frisk for little to no reason. And then I decided to ask about what that sentry job implied, and I find out Sans was actually meant to kill any human who crossed him?" You try not to let your voice grow loud, yet thoughts over losing Frisk and the desperation you went through searching for them all around the map make you livid. You're tearing up yourself, yet you prove unable to compose yourself like Toriel does, letting these stain your cheeks. "You expect me to trust a guy like him, when all that kept him from killing my child was Karma and a… a supposed promise he made to someone else? Do you expect me to trust him when- when he could've done the same to me, or anyone else of my kind? How can you expect me to stay calm, when your kind acted badly in their own way?"

You're full-on crying now, pent-up worries of the days you spent on a relentless, fruitless search over Frisk almost making you wobble to the ground; your wit and sheer want to be strong are what prevent you from showing it. You cover your face with your hands while guilt and doubts enter your mind. Your knees are frail, though some of that stress is let out through a heavy huff, and your hands let go when you compose yourself more. "I thought Frisk hated me, a- and that's why they ran off." You feel a hand place itself right on top of your head, careful yet attempting to soothe you further. "I thought I'd done something wrong, or that I… That I failed as a parent. But then…” You shudder the next time you breathe out. “Then Brenda calls me and says something important happened. And- And next thing I know, Frisk shows up in the news!"

While the current hand is fluffy, the next one causes you to jolt back up into guard. Its bony feel on your shoulder makes you shake it off and face the one responsible with cold, narrowed eyes. 

When you see it's Papyrus, you hold back and face him with gentler eyes, a frown replacing your anger. "I'm thankful for what you all did to look after Frisk while I wasn't around, but I still can't… I really still can't overlook what Asgore wanted to do to my kind, or what he ordered Sans and... and other monsters to do." You breathe in, chest heaving and shuddering again when letting that same breath out. “H- Hate me if you will, but I... I need time to understand the reasons behind all of this."

Too weak to stand any longer, Papyrus takes note of that himself and helps you off to the couch, where Sans still rests at. His usage of what little magic he had left in him shows through how slumped his sitting posture is and how his eye sockets are half-lidded as he tries not to fall asleep. He straightens and scoots away, leaving you with more than plenty of space for you to sit down beside him.

"(L/N)," the taller one says, keeping a hand on your shoulder and bringing you to stare at him. "We do not hate you. What we want is for you to hear us out and understand we mean no harm any longer." He pulls back, gaze knitted as sympathy shows on his smile. "I was once meant to capture any human who crossed on over to Snowdin, and as you said, Sans was meant to… to end them." He stops, smile fading. "So your worry and panic are understandable. I do not expect you to forgive and forget, but I do ask you to please listen to what we have to say and try to understand the rather… complicated relationship humans and monsters used to have."

It’s been more than an hour since your meeting ended, yet the rain's still pouring strong and the news station left to play on the television is already reporting over nearby routes being flooded by what now has to be a tropical storm. Frisk is still sleeping in the goat lady's bedroom, helping make the situation a bit easier for you to manage with. Though -- at the thought of being stuck with the monsters for what you assume is going to be a long, long while -- you sigh, trying to regain both strength and calm alike. 

"Been rainin' a lot since we left the Underground," Sans comments, a tired slur to his words. He's changed the topic completely, helping you with the process. "Think this's really connected to us? A lotta people've been blamin' monsters for it."

"I think it's silly they'd blame you for it," you reply, finding more ease in the topic. "There was a heavy drought not long before Frisk fell to the Underground, so I think it was to expect we'd have even heavier rains soon." Surprisingly, he offers you a napkin, avoiding the touch of hands by pulling away as quickly as his magic-worn state allows him to. "Thank you." You pat at your tears and wipe your face clean, stopping when you hear muffled laughter coming from him.

"...What?" you ask, facing the skeleton with a raised brow.

That only makes him break down more, though he contains himself to reply with, "Nothin'."

You hear Papyrus huff and see him stand next to you. He offers a mirror out to you, something you reject when you tell him you have one with you. "Sans, now's not the time for this!" he exclaims, hands on his hips. "You'll never gain their trust if you continue to disrupt every single opportunity you have for it!"

While listening to their argument, you see Toriel's sadness vanish right on par with yours. You look at yourself in the mirror, holding back a laugh of your own when you see two large circles surrounding your eyes, with a colour blatantly opposite to the shade(s) of your skin. It makes you look similar to a panda, though you try not to appear humoured by it. 

"Frisk fell for that at the Underground," Sans comments, snickering when his brother finally stops scolding him. "And now you." His grin widens, posture straightening more and tiredness being replaced with merriment. "I've said it once and I'll say it again: like parent, like child." 

Whatever form of retaliation you're about to direct at Sans is stopped when you see the door of the living room slam open, in entering two women, and both soaked from head to toe. Alphys is the first one you recognize at a quick glance while the taller one takes you longer to distinguish with how little you knew about her still. Neither of the two seem bothered over being drenched, Undyne being the one who grins and sighs in relief, later commenting about how refreshing the rain feels. Alphys takes in the feeling for some time, though she removes her lab coat and shoes, wringing herself out before stepping into the living room. When the other woman's done, her eye falls on you, immediately growing as her smile does the same, sharp teeth baring themselves in excitement.

"Is that the one you told me about, Alph?" she asks, voice booming throughout the house. "You're right. They're just like Frisk described them to us, and just as cute as those pictures on the news!"

You hear Sans hiss out an 'ooh', and hear him speak right after with a muttered, "Bad move, Undyne."

He's not wrong.

Having experienced more than enough of Sans's flirting for the past few days, hearing yet another monster comment over you in a flattering manner is unwelcomed. Consequently, you stand up and face the two with your trademark pose: frowning, brow narrowed, and with your arms firmly crossed. "Nice to meet you, miss Undyne." You spare a look at Alphys, who jolts at the intensity of your stare. "I'm Frisk's primary care parent, though I'm sure you know that already." You offer a hand out to her, reminding yourself to be polite. "I believe I have questions as to why you thought it acceptable to chase my child at the Underground, even when they were deemed to have caused no harm to your kind."

She takes your hand, and a more serious look takes her over when she nods. "I'm afraid that was a job assigned to me for being part of the Royal Guard."

You shake her hand, nodding back. "And I'm afraid you'll have to explain that to me then, miss Undyne.” You take a pause. “Apologies for being so quick about this, but I… I want nothing but the best for Frisk, and so I still have to get to know their monster friends better to understand what this is all about." 

When the handshake's over, you both take a step back, facing each other with stern gazes. "In the end, I believe it's my right as a parent to decide whether or not it's safe for Frisk to keep being friends with you." You pause, reflect, and make sure to add your next comment, wanting to be clear with everyone around you, "And not because of your race, but because of your actions."

Chapter Text

Your conversation with Undyne goes a similar route as with Toriel's: confronting a stranger in the name of protecting the one you held most dear, as a result ending whatever possible, friendly connections you could've likely formed with her right from the start -- without that complex context placed between you. Seeing everyone as your enemy is draining at its least, but the reward you visualize for everyone ahead makes it all seem worth it. That thought alone provides with strength to keep pushing forward, and even more so when you remind yourself over obtaining a possible happy ending of your very own, were you to resolve this situation with the monsters first.

With that thought in mind, you set the empty teacup down on the coffee table and take a deep breath in, preparing yourself to continue with the conversation. You're already halfway through the most difficult process with Undyne, so backing away now would be useless; thankfully, the tea has enough chamomile in it for you to quell your anger and turn it into sobriety, instead. Of course, that sounds way easier than it is, but -- compared to how you felt when talking with Toriel -- it's a difference as large as the distance between the sky and Earth. Keeping in mind all the kindness and patience you've been shown throughout the process helps with that, as well.

You stand up, continuing with, "I understand protecting the Underground was your priority, but…" You stop to breathe again. "Why… Why would you attack without waiting to see what Frisk had to say? If you were informed enough to know there was a human running free in the Underground, then couldn't you have known they weren't causing any harm, in the first place?"

Despite the tea, its effects and your subsequent calm don't last long. Frustration keeps you from staying in one, sole place without fidgeting, so you let energy out through a composed, back-and-forth pace across the living room. You stop for a second and face down at Undyne, who keeps herself seated, eye meeting with your gaze. "How many of those six souls were murdered, and…" Your breath hitches. "And how many of them were genuine, self-sacrifices? I… I wouldn't be so angry, if you were just honest with me and told me how many human lives were taken away without their honest approval, and exactly how many of them sacrificed their lives for you, in the end."

At the thought of Frisk, still selfless towards plenty of things based on how young they were and the education they received -- both at home and at school -- you keep your posture straight, eager to say more. "And was there really no other solution than taking those souls? If… If Frisk saved your kind without having to give up their own life for it, then why did all this happen? Why… Why did six people have to die before a different solution could come around?" A pause and a sigh help you recollect your thoughts. "Or were they threatening the lives of your kind? 'Cause that makes a lot more sense than simply taking away the soul of the first human you saw, no matter their age, background, or intentions."

Undyne still stays silent for a while even after you're done, eye now cast down at the floor as she frowns and her hands hold onto her knees. "...Well," she says, trailing off with a sigh. "I was only ordered to chase after whatever human I crossed paths with." She lifts her gaze from the floor while a hand toys around with the scales on her neck, distracting herself from you. "It wasn't every day a human would fall down there, so we were eventually ordered to, well... kill whatever human did happen to end there… Indiscriminately." Finally, she makes eye contact with you, frown quivering as she takes another quick pause. "According to what we were told, it had been years since a human last fell down, so when Frisk arrived, I... I just sought after them without thinking twice."

"But if that many years passed by, couldn't your kind look for another solution? If… If Alphys built a new body for her friend out of nothing but scraps, and with two different forms -- mind you -- then... Then couldn't another scientist on similar or equal terms of knowledge have done something about all this? Why wait so long, if… if all it took was a child to find another solution for you?" Your voice breaks and your ire finally snaps with, "Where's your sense of justice? Or does it only apply when it's convenient?"

She notices the change herself, though she doesn't flinch nor retaliate; neutrality is her only reaction as she replies with, "(L/N), in all honesty, I…" Undyne stops, facing down again as her grimace deepens, sorrow dampening her eye. "I'm... I'm not sure how to answer that." 

Seeing you've reached a dead end, you glance over towards Alphys, who tries to look away, failing when you call out her name. "What about you, Doctor Alphys? Was there really no other thought in mind other than waiting for the next prey to arrive? Was there truly no…" Your breathing grows scarce, hinting at you losing your grip on the intensity of your emotions again. "Was there truly no other option than for us to be enemies? For your kind and mine to… to simply keep up with the damage our ancestors made and left behind?"

Alphys is shaking, yet you stay unfazed, only lessening your level of intimidation by uncrossing your arms and looking away from her, giving her some space and time to reply. 

"I'm n- not sure what to say, either, but… Y- You do have a point." She wrings her hands, her shaking attempting to compose itself through that. "But… As a f- former scientist of the Underground, I wasn't told much over what the rules were. One of the few things that I took part on was in... in creating Mettaton's new body." Her hands unwind, shoulders copying them. "I... I know he was programmed to k- kill humans, but like you mentioned: he was my friend before any of that happened, and so he already had a life and consciousness before I made that new version of him. It- It just so happened that I… I modified a few things so that he could-"

Her words are interrupted as Frisk walks into the living room, still sleepy-eyed. They rub their eyes with the sleeve of their shirt, and a frown presents itself when they take a good look at the scene before them. 

"What's wrong?" they sign, expression furrowed.

They take in everything around them, letting their face lose tension when their gaze moves on over to you, encouraging them to approach you. "You're here!" Frisk grabs your hand, taking a look at the time on your watch. Then, they raise an eyebrow, letting you go to continue with, "You didn't go to work today? Or did you leave early?"

You smile, let your guard fall, and bring them into your arms, holding them up. "The streets got flooded, so I couldn't go anymore after lunchtime," you say, kissing their cheek. "How've you been, though? Did you have fun at miss Toriel's new place? I've been here since twelve, but you were sleeping, so I didn't want to wake you."

They grin, nodding as they bring their arms firm around your neck, hugging you close. "I had fun." You tense a little at the sound of their voice despite there being more people besides Toriel, Brenda, or you around; how often selective mutism kept them from saying things out loud in front of other people made their voice a rare thing to hear in public, no matter how small the crowd was. It's only when they're alone with you or people of trust that they have the courage to speak up out loud -- a rare case was Frisk being capable of talking with Bubbles regardless of them having met him only once so far, yet you dismiss that one as them having simply gotten along well with him right from the start, rather than associating it with them truly forgiving you and wanting to defend you, as a result. "A- Are you gonna stay here, then? It's raining a lot!"

"I believe they have no other choice, dear," Toriel intervenes, easing out the tension left from your earlier conversation, still unfinished. 

She arrives next to you; a set of clothes are held out in her hands, these neatly folded and accompanied by some soap, a towel, and a roll-on deodorant. "We were waiting for the skies to clear up, but the rain and the floods have made it near impossible for any of us to leave this house." You set Frisk down and take the clothes, surprised to see a set of pajamas similar to Toriel's clothing style, and even some underwear tucked underneath all the other items -- and unused based on the size tag still attached to it. "I am not sure if these sizes will fit you, but those clothes are all spares I keep stored away for guests." She lowers her voice and gets closer to you. "The undergarments are new, of course." She giggles, winking at you afterwards. "The bathroom is upstairs, if you would like to shower now."

You inspect the clothes again, frustration simmering down back to calm as you let your shoulders lessen their stress with a sigh. "Thank you, ma'am."

Barely two months into knowing the monsters, and you're already staying at their place. While Alphys and Undyne are capable of leaving under the current, wild weather at will if they were to take their needed precautions, neither Frisk nor you can step a foot outside without drawing it back in. The streets are a mess of puddles, nature-made swimming pools, and car alarms going off; the scenery outside is close to that of becoming something of a meteorologist's concern and a scientific anomaly, yet the news and every other information outlet available continues to report it as something of lesser concern than what it is.

As you stare outside, Frisk now resting on your lap, you worry over two things: the lost meeting at your office, and the stranded car belonging to Sans's brother. You comb your fingers through Frisk's hair, using that as a means of entertainment from your worries. They're still sleeping soundly, tired out by both finishing their homework and playing with you at the indoor, mini playground Toriel set up for them.

"I'll pay for any damages to your car as soon as this clears up." You direct your words at Papyrus, who stops gazing outside to face you, looking dazed. His mind looks to be somewhere else, though another squint at your appearance makes him snap out of it.

"That is the least of my concerns now." He smiles at you, leaving the window to crouch next to you, couch occupied with Frisk, Sans, and yourself. "I can go look for it tomorrow morning. And as for whatever damages it gets, I am certain my insurance will look over this case! There have been plenty of reports discussing the damages made by the rain, so it is not my greatest worry." His gaze falls on Frisk, a warmer look reaching his face. "Do you want me to carry them back to bed? It's getting late!"

"It's fine-"

"Please, I insist!"

You smile at his persistence, far more endearing than his older brother's. The thought makes you pay attention back towards Sans, who's still showing signs of exhaustion on his body, slumped over to the corner. His eye sockets are closed, dark circles beginning to show under them. 

"Thank you." You pay attention back to Papyrus, who takes Frisk in his hold, propping them safe with both arms.

You stand up, ready to help out, yet he dismisses your actions with the words, "Stay and chat with Toriel. I assume you both still have plenty to talk about, don't you? You should take this opportunity to talk with her and the other ladies! Perhaps then, you can leave this place with a different perspective by the time the rain stops."

"I will." You nod and watch him leave, carrying your child up in his arms with seemingly no difficulty. His steps fade as so does his figure, leaving you be with Sans sleeping at the couch, the owner of the house by the kitchen, and Undyne and Alphys standing by the living room. The pair's gazes are occupied on the window, carrying a similar expression to Papyrus's from earlier before.

You don't even know how to start up another conversation with the last one having ended poorly, yet try again by using the easiest route possible: going over to Toriel and asking if she needs help with dinner. You stand up and stretch out, legs numb with how long Frisk had been sitting on your lap. It's only fortunate tomorrow's Friday, the beginning of another weekend.

"Can I help with anything?"

Those are the first words you say as you enter the kitchen, greeted by the smell of boiling vegetables and the sound of a knife against a cutting board. Toriel's next to the stove, cutting some carrots, but stopping to look at you. A smile forms on her face, and she nods once, pointing with her gaze at the potatoes resting on the counter next to hers. "Did Frisk go back to sleep?" she asks, facing back at the carrots again, continuing with her work. "I am amazed at how much energy they have, and how little they want to sleep now that they've seen how many people are in this home. It is only when I insist that they need to rest up for the sake of their health that they do so."

While you're not sure if she's being indirect or not, the goat lady's words lead you to assume one thing, and that's Frisk not wanting to waste time sleeping when at the monsters' home. With you, they went out like a light, going to sleep right when you told them to. Only when there was a full house and when family members came to visit did they break that rule, far too excited over the new faces for them to sleep. 

"Papyrus took them back to their room," you reply, reminding yourself not to let your thoughts drift again. "And that's... normal for them, actually." You decide to be truthful with her, following Papyrus's advice. "They usually don't like to sleep when they're too excited about something. Every time my family visits, they're just a big ball of energy and don't sleep until everyone's doing the same." A smile forms at that, a memory from when your ex came to visit Frisk slipping through. "When my, um… ex-husband used to visit, they would stay up late playing games with him. So I guess Frisk feels the same way about you and their other monster friends."

With the potatoes already washed and peeled, all that's left is to cut them and throw them into the pot. You ask her over what size you should cut them, turning your back to her again when you're given an answer. "Is there anything you would like to ask me about?" Toriel asks, speaking in between cuts. "If there is any doubt you have over me, and even over Dreemurr, Sans, and others I know well, I can inform you about it. But as for things that are personal, that is up to them."

Thunder crashes at the nearby window just as you're slicing, finger almost ending up in the same condition as the potatoes, but prevented by your reflexes. The lights go out on par with another loud blast of lightning, plenty more violent than the first one. 

"Goodness!" you hear Toriel say. 

You follow the sound of her voice to see a sphere of flames held up in her hand; it reveals her face, now furrowed with worry. "Are you alright?"

"I'm alright." You set the knife aside and join her side, following her orders when she informs you there are candles on the bottom drawer beside her. You act quickly, taking them out and lighting them up with the help of her fire magic. "Are you?"

She nods, a gentle look crossing her. "We should go check on the others." Her gaze points back at the drawer, left open. "Could you bring more of those?"

"Of course, ma'am."

You take the emptiest box of the three and follow her out of the kitchen.

Your surroundings are now left pitch dark except for a bright and glowing, blue spear held out by Undyne, Alphys standing next to her. A tall figure holding up a smaller one can be seen near the couch, people who you assume are Papyrus and Frisk based on who's the only one left to find. "Has anyone seen Sans?" Papyrus asks, fret tracing his voice. "He's not on the couch anymore!"

Looking to where he points at, you see he's right. The couch is empty with the exception of your and Frisk's belongings. Not even a trace of him can be seen left around, making it appear as if he's outright vanished from existence, and not even the dim lighting produced by the candles can aid with tracking him down amongst all the people, objects, and darkness laid around.

While others assemble and call out for Sans as they search through all the rooms they could possibly imagine finding him in, you try to come up with a different solution besides that. Him disappearing was more than unlikely considering he didn't have any magic or energy left in him for teleportation, so you rule that out as a possibility and take a moment to observe your surroundings a bit closer. You look at the couch again, as if still expecting to catch a glimpse of him there despite what you're doing right now. But as fate would have it, your keys pop into your mind when you come across the sight of your suit jacket, umbrella, and all other belongings left behind on a corner of the couch, most of these stored away in a bag or left nearby it. 

Reminded over what your car keys have attached to them, you go look for them, bumping into someone right as you're about to make it there. 

You wobble and -- at the feeling of losing balance -- you act fast. You break your own fall and later grab onto the person to prevent them from falling, though you don't need to do much when you notice their height doesn't reach that much higher than your chest. Add to that your sturdier body helping with breaking the fall, and you've managed to stop the both of you from fully crashing into each other or stumbling to the floor.

You sit down on the couch when you feel you're losing your balance and hold the person upright. You then let go to look through your bag, retrieving the keys and -- along with them -- a small, solar flashlight hanging from it. The light's directed right at the person's face, revealing Sans's, who looks as if caught in a bad deed. 

"Are you okay?" You don't bother over bringing up the fact he face-planted right into your chest, nor that his hands gripped tight onto your waist for support; the sheer sincerity of his surprise at bumping into you makes you assume he hadn't done it on purpose.

"I'm, uh… I'm fine." His words are just as spacey as his gaze, and his irises point at the floor for a second, spacing off yet again. "Sorry about that." He sits right beside you on the couch, facing up to meet with your eyes. "I was gonna check up on the ceiling since it's rainin' so hard. Kinda looks like it'll start leakin' soon."

Thunder strikes again, sending the monster back into your hold. His hands grip onto your shirt next as he freezes up in place, just before he can get to reveal the true meaning over his disappearance.

"Are you… Are you scared over this?" You try to push down your amusement, yet are unable to when you see his grip is tight enough to remind you of a cat being frightened. 

When another one strikes, louder than the rest, you bring up another question while biting back a smile. "Is it… Is it the noise?" He tenses up even more, encouraging you to bring him closer, his current proximity far different from his attempts at flirting with you. "Sans." You call out his name, attempting to snap him out of it. "What's wrong? You're as cold as ice!"

He doesn't react, though you can feel him shake and shiver under your hold. You look down at him to see his eye sockets are tightly shut. How much he's scooted closer makes him sit on your lap, though his smaller figure helps you with keeping him safe and balanced in your hold. 

As you keep him that way, you can only ask yourself one thing:

Would you come off as an insensitive jerk if you decided to tease him over this in the future?

At the sound of a louder crash, the skeleton's unresponsive, caught up in his fear.

...Or would it work best not to take that risk?

For the time being, you hold him closer. 

The feeling of everyone's eyes on you surges when you move your eyes away from the skeleton to look around you. In contrast, you see Papyrus and Frisk too busy playing with a candle to notice what's happening, along with Toriel having all her attention on lighting more candles. It's only Alphys and Undyne who take notice, both their faces equally enlightened by what's unfolding on the couch. They look ready to yap their mouths off over the situation between you and the one clinging onto you, yet one sharp look of caution at the two keeps them from saying anything risky about it.

Whether they knew about Sans's fear you didn't know about, and whether he wanted it to be known you weren't aware of, either. For now, you hold him close, trying your best to ignore the women's stares and waiting until Sans snaps out of it. His hold on you's firm and close, needful and impartial as the thunderstorm continues to gain strength.

Chapter Text

If you told your past self you would be in the monsters' home at midnight, wearing borrowed pajamas and staying the night on their couch, you would've most likely been asked over what the hell you were smoking. 

It's what you assume will be a sleepless night, giving you time to reflect on what's happened so far and what opportunities you'd lost with the blackout. Not only had it interrupted your time with Toriel, but it had brought upon a new piece of information you weren't quite sure what to do with, and that was Sans and him being afraid of thunder. While one side of you wanted to tease him over it, the other -- based on how raw his fear was and how much he seemed to have entrusted his safety on you -- wanted nothing but to try to comfort the monster over the situation. In short, sympathy towards him sounded hard to do without him taking it as the results of his flirting, yet making fun of him made you feel like a jerk.

"Can we talk?"

You look to the voice to see Sans standing by the television, a hand gripping its top for stability. His body language shows exhaustion and nothing more, though you don't let your guard down yet, still wary over any possible flirting attempts. "About the blackout thing, I mean."

The circles under his eye sockets are darker than before, a bit of a strange observation to take in, considering how much he's slept already. If this is what he meant about how he needed Karma for his magic, it made way more sense now. A half-hour trip to Toriel's with him casting a see-through veil over the windshield and another one for him to pick up Papyrus had proven more than enough to drain his magic and all the energy left in him. 

But if that was the case, why did he accept his job as a sentry, if his task was to kill any human who crossed him -- right from the start?

Was he willing to sacrifice himself for the sake of obtaining that soul, and simultaneously, his kinds' freedom?

"Sit with me," you offer, caught in the spur of the moment. "You already sat on my lap, didn't you? Why try to be modest now? I wouldn't have minded that much, if you'd at least taken me to dinner first."

You hear him snort at that, though a hand covers up the noise when he catches just how quiet everything is. "Sorry, pal. I may like flirtin' with you, but physical contact's where I cross the line. And unless you're also comfortable with it, I'm not gonna try anythin' like that." He rubs the back of his skull, looking guilty. "So with that being said, sorry for all that. For, uh, slammin' right into you, huggin' you, and then, well... lettin' me sit on your lap without asking. I wasn't myself back there."

His expression's not far from that of a wounded puppy, and it's only when you pat down at the space left next to you that he reacts, sitting down and facing your gaze. "Did something happen in the past? Were you… in a war or something like that?" PTSD's the first thing to come up into your thoughts, though you're not exactly sure how to approach the topic with him. "You don't have to answer me, if you don't want to."

"Thanks," he says, shoulders kept high as he huffs and faces his lap. "It's... somethin' like that. But like you said, I don't really know how to talk about it yet." He lets out a noise between a chuckle and a nose flare, meeting your gaze again afterwards. "I didn't know just how… how loud thunder was here at the Surface, so when it first happened, I was even more caught off guard by it. Today wasn't that bad, and I already knew what was comin', but I still acted that way."

"Do… Do other people know about this?"

"Only Tori and my bro. They were the ones who saw me in that state the first time."

You bite your lip and let out a sympathetic hiss in response to that, remembering just who'd caught him and you in that position. If Alphys and Undyne really didn't know anything about his fear, then judging by the wide stares they were giving you while the skeleton sat on your lap, their point of view was clearly far different from yours. 

"What's wrong?" he asks, mirth returning to his voice.

"Remember when you sat on my lap?"

His face falls, tone straining with it, "Is remindin' me a way of you gettin' back at me for what I've done?"

You huff and swat his shoulder in a harmless, playful manner despite your narrowed gaze. "I'm being serious here, Sans!" you exclaim, frowning. "Alphys and Undyne... They- They saw us like that, so I was wondering if you knew about it, too."

"What?" he asks, a subtle furrow showing on his skull. "Did they really see us?"

"Yes!" Your response is muffled by you covering your face in shame, face burning at the thought. "If they really don't know about your condition, then they… They probably thought we were hitting it off on the couch!" With how hot your face feels, you're forced to let it go and direct a pointed gaze at Sans, who tries to ease you out with the gesture of his hands and a hush, reminding you to keep your voice low. "They probably think we're dating now!"

"And what's so bad about that?"

"Everything!"

Frustrated by his easygoing self, it takes a minute for you to find some calm, regaining it when you remind yourself over what's more important right now. 

"I don't want either of us to get carried away with that, so I'll just tell you this," you speak up, maintaining a calmer tone and looking at the skeleton right in his irises. You focus your eyes on him, wanting the gravity of the situation to be known. "I… I used to be married, and I waited two whole years of dating just to, well… achieve that dream, only to then have Jerry ditch me the second he couldn't keep up with the responsibility of living and raising a child together." You pause in your words, feeling a few tears form in your eyes, embarrassment and sorrow both weighing the same. "If there's anything I need less of, it's romantic drama! I don't mind you flirting with me, but if any false rumour gets out about us, then I... I simply won't allow this to happen anymore."

You back off and lower your intensity. 

The more you talk, the more you realize this has nothing to do with the skeleton, aside from what transpired with the blackout. 

"What happened earlier was accidental, and I firmly acknowledge that. But if you're going to keep up this flirting charade with me, I'm gonna need to ask for one thing: don't spread false rumours about us." You wipe a tear off your face, looking away when you feel his gaze on your body, burning you. "I… I want to be a good parental figure for Frisk, so if I want that, I really can't be depicted as an easy, airheaded person." You stop and let out a breath, almost shuddering in the process. "I allowed myself to be stupid once, so I can't let it happen again."

You know you're about to confess something really, if not extremely personal, yet you can't prevent yourself from keeping your mouth shut, something about the monster and the quiet of the living room pushing you to be heartfelt with him.

"It was bad enough when he told his friends about how quickly I fell for him -- how it seemed I loved him more than he did with me. And it took me too long to understand what he meant by that when… when his first solution to us not working out the first time was doing a one-hundred and eighty on our relationship without any explanation whatsoever. I was naive and stupid as hell for getting back with him twice after that first fallout, and then deciding to marry him later on, so to this day, I… I still take responsibility for what became of us and our family after that. And that's why I really can't allow myself to… to fall into another relationship just like that. I need to fix this and myself first."

You finish venting with a huff. Then, you form a smile and offer a hand out to the skeleton when you're done. "Think we could both put this day behind us? I won't push further over what happened to you, but I… I expect the same kind of respect and treatment from you."

Sans takes your hand, completing the shake. "Ya really gotta ask?" he says, winking. "Respect's somethin' that should be given right from the start, so long as the other person's showed it, too." He pulls his hand back, meeting with your eyes afterwards. "I may like teasin' and flirtin' around with you, but I still hold respect for who you are as a person, just as I hold respect for how mad attractive you look in your work uniform."

Truthfully, his last sentence catches you off guard with how nonchalant he is, and you almost pass off his words as nothing. But when you do catch onto the comment he made over that particular aspect of you, you stand up, towering over him with your hands on your hips and a scowl. "Good-night," you bark, teeth gritted.

"Wait."

Just as you turn to leave, he tugs at the end of your pajamas' sleeve and grabs your attention with the call of your name. A muffled, jazzy tune followed by yelling and fighting can be heard from the television, now on. "Watch somethin' with me," Sans says, serious. "I know ya ain't sleepy yet, and that you chose to sleep on the couch, so don't leave."

You don't budge; rather, you sigh and keep your back turned to him. "Unnecessary comment leads to a necessary need to retreat."

"C'mon," he pleads, letting go of your sleeve. "I won't make any more of those 'til the sun rises."

"...Promise?"

"Promise."

You finally face him again, though all while keeping a neutral look as you sit down next to him. The television displays a black-and-white film, action present in every second of it. When the monster asks over what you'd like to watch, you don't give him a concrete answer, letting him choose instead. He passes by a few channels, sound clips amalgamating with each other as he switches back and forth, only stopping when a DreamJobs movie shows up, a bee pun quickly making its way to your ears.

"Wanna watch this?" Sans asks, waiting.

"Whatever you want, honey," you reply, arms crossed as you look him in the eye, attempting to one-up his past flirting attempts. "I bee-lieve I told you to choose, didn't I?" You wink, soul leaving your body when you see he grins at your actions. 

He returns these by hooking an arm right behind the couch, leaning in just a bit closer to your side and staying true to his word by not once touching you. "Flirtin' back now, huh? Surprised you didn't just tell me to buzz off."

You stare at him for a good while, stricken by his line of defense. When you're capable of moving again, you stand up and make way to the kitchen, only stopping after reminding yourself over how helpful Sans had been these past few weeks, and how little you'd shown your gratitude over it. "I'm gonna go get some water. Do you need anything, Serif?"

"You're all I need right now, pal."

"I'm serious."

He chuckles, slumps on a corner of the couch, and rests an arm behind his skull. A subtle grin returns to his face, sly and dangerous. "I'm good," he says. "Though it wouldn't be bad if you could take some monster meds outta the bottom pantry."

You frown at that, reminded over his physical state. "Are you still tired?"

"Nah. Just got a lil' headache, is all."

Though unconvinced, you enter the kitchen and follow his instructions as to where the medicine is. You take the one marked with 'acetaminophen for monsters' and bring two cups of water along with you -- tap for you, and from-the-fridge for him. Taking a cup of water from Toriel's home made you feel bad, even if it was lukewarm and from the tap.

When you return, you sit next to the skeleton and offer him the medicine first. Then, you offer him a glass, though he takes the warm one. "Think I didn't see what ya did there?" he comments, winking. "You ain't gotta restrict yourself so much. You're as much of a family as Frisk is."

You grab the remaining glass and hold back your emotions, how hard they hit making you drink the water to avoid them. "...Thank you, but I'm not." You drink the rest of the water, not wanting to let your voice waver. "Frisk may be like your family, but I certainly am not."

The movie distracts you when Sans decides to look at you; the mood of the film's far more whimsical and upbeat for your current state of mind. "Like I've said before, please don't waste your time on me, 'cause it's not gonna work." 

Silence stays as you both watch the movie, yet it's promptly broken when he finishes his drink. "'Fraid that's not gonna work with us, (Y/N)." His voice is serious again, a rarity for who he is; or at least, who you envisioned him to be. "Just as we're insistent on Frisk being a part of our lives, we're insistent that you can be a part of that, too. It might take time, but it'll happen with effort, integrity, and mutual understanding."

Chapter Text

With yesterday's uniform already washed and dried along with you wearing your spare set to avoid wearing the same one today, you're ready to go off to work the second you're out of Toriel's home. No detour to yours is needed, though you stop to say your thanks and farewells, and instruct Frisk on how they should behave while you're gone. "Wait for me, alright?" you say, smiling at them. "I have to work overtime today, but I'll be right back before nine." You place a hand on their head and play with their hair before pressing a quick kiss to their cheek.

"Does this mean Toriel's going to be my new babysitter from now on?" they sign, a hopeful light in their eyes.

"...Yes." You relent, not wanting to be late. "For the time being, at least."

Even with that addition by the end, their joy doesn't fade away, something they show through a grin and a wave. "Take care!"

You wave back at them, left with a lingering warmth in your chest at the sound of their voice again, so loud and free despite who they're with and how many people they're around. The only chances you'd gotten to hear their voice be so confident and strong were when Jerry used to visit, whenever they wanted to say they loved you, and -- most recently -- whenever they were left under Toriel's care, though you soon dismiss those thoughts to focus more on making it to work. You check the time on your phone to see there's still around three hours left: one for running errands, half to grab a quick bite to eat, one to make it on-time to work, and the other half left to meet up with your boss and excuse yourself over yesterday's missed meeting. 

When you see Undyne's legs emerging from under your minivan, you subtract the hour for running errands, only expecting the worst scenario from how much rain had fallen yesterday. 

"Is something wrong?" you ask, clutching your ring and toying with it for support.

The fish woman slides out from under it, arms and hands smudged with oil and dirt. She doesn't seem to mind though, and grins up at you instead. "The battery and some other stuff got damaged in the rain, but it's nothing my girlfriend and I can't fix!" You offer a hand out to the woman, though she declines and stands up on her own, commenting about not dirtying your outfit now that you were going off to work. "We've got a motorcycle in the garage, so if you know how to ride one, then feel free to use it." She looks over to the minivan as a hint of smugness slips on her face. "If you don't, Sans can give you a ride." She jabs your waist with her cleanest elbow, what you assume is a wink directed at you, albeit difficult to tell with only one eye. "How about it, (L/N)?"

Don't look at a gift horse in the mouth. 

That's the only thought you can come up with as she offers you a solution. The jab she'd given you confirms your suspicions as to what she believed was going on between you and Sans; regardless, you don't say anything about that and nod. Best to go with the flow of things for now, tardiness unwanted. "Well… Thank you, miss," you speak up, words almost forced out. The thought of being at such a close level with the skeleton again makes your temples ache, and while you could use the excuse of taking the next bus as an easy escape, you're not sure whether to risk it and give into the woman's offer as a result. "Is he… around?"

"He's at the garage," she replies, sliding back under the vehicle. Her voice sounds muffled when she continues, the melody of tools and metal clanking heard as she keeps on with her work. "Think you could tell him Papyrus doesn't need a lift anymore? I got a call from him earlier saying the car's back in shape."

You bite your lip, frowning after. "Did he say how much the repairs cost?"

"His insurance covered up for him this time. A lot of cars have been getting damaged under this weather, so it really isn't a surprise for companies to receive those calls anymore."

"Still," you persist, sighing. "If there's any way I can help, then please let me know." You rummage through your belongings, retrieving a twenty, a ten, and three fives from your wallet. "I, um... don't really have enough cash on me right now, but I can pay you more formally when I'm back."

Undyne slides back to you, forehead creased, eye narrowed, and lips frowning. "I'm not asking you to pay," she says. "I like getting my hands on stuff like this, so it's no big deal."

You crouch down next to her and slide the money into her jeans' front pocket. "It still feels bad not to." Standing up, you dust your uniform off and check the time marked on your phone again, reminding yourself not to make any further delays.

"Hey!" She calls out for you when you leave without any other words or wait. To counter, you rush off to the garage, both as an escape and a necessity. "I'll get you next time. You're lucky I'm laying down right now!"

Her words fade as you approach your next destination, being greeted with a helmet the second you're in. A motorcycle stands in front of you, engine rumbling as the driver holds it back, his face kept hidden under another helmet. "C'mon," the monster says, his expression unknown to you, and voice similar by how quick those words are muttered. "I already know you're late, so I ain't gonna push any buttons." You see his head lower, and a comment follows after that, "Suggest ya hold on tight with what you're wearin'."

You face down at yourself, seeing both dress pants and shoes -- typical of your work uniform. While it's nothing out of the ordinary, it makes sense as to how it can be hazardous wearing both pieces while riding a motorcycle, their material far less practical for something like this. Taking the monster's words into account, you nod and sit behind him, hands awkwardly slipping around his waist. "...May I?"

"Not may," he says, a chuckle leaving him. "You should." 

Words acknowledged, you press yourself closer against the skeleton, arms locking tight around his waist and chest brushing with his back. Your hands can be felt growing sweaty, reminding you to be cautious despite the well-intentioned meaning of the ride being offered to you. "I'm… I'm ready." You can hear your voice shake, though you hope that he hasn't; the engine helps drown out part of it, fortunately.

When Sans steps on the gas, your words fall short and you grab him tighter than before, the loud and sudden roar of the vehicle sending out fear inside you. 

"You're not," he remarks, holding back a laugh. "Just grab on tighter if you're scared. I won't bite."

You do as suggested, ignoring the humour in his tone as you close your eyes shut and squeeze him tight enough to cut his laughter. 

"Ready now?"

"Y- Yes."

He charges right off, wind stinging your arms with how fast it blows. While fear clings onto one side of you, adrenaline takes hold of the other, allowing you to open an eye and peak at the scenery before you. The monster zooms past all sorts of sights and sounds, from birds foraging through trees to other engines rumbling. It's an exhilarating feeling at its least, and an overwhelming one at its most.

He stops at a red light and spares a glance at you through the mirror only to chuckle again, more amused than the last. "The more I know you, the more parent-like you act," he says, prepping the motorcycle again.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You drive a minivan, wore those long pajamas Tori gave you to sleep without any problem, and now you're scared of speed n' danger." The light changes back to green, muffling out part of his voice as he drives off again. "What's next? Do ya work as a teacher, in an office, or under the medical field? Those're usually the top three, though I'm guessin' it's somewhere along the first two -- based on your uniform."

You don't want to give him an answer, reluctant to let him know he'd been right. "...I'm a secretary," you reply, facing down at his waist.

He laughs, hard and deep. The sound alone makes you ease in, how earnest it is making you break into a smile yourself.

"Called it."

You're a mess by the time you make it to your first stop, pants wrinkled, shoes dusty, foundation smudged, and body still shaken up by the ride. Sans waits until you're done fixing yourself out, though as expected, he makes a comment along the lines of how you didn't need to bother, since you still looked good -- all according to him, at least. You ignore those comments and face him only when you're done freshening up, mind locked on what you're meant to do now that you've made it to a shopping center.

"Do you… really have the time?" you ask before getting off, noticing how early it still is and the fact he'd chosen to take you here rather than drive you off straight to work without any other stops. "You don't have to stay, if it's going to delay you in any way."

"It's fine," he replies, double-checking the vehicle's parked. "Wouldn't drive you here, otherwise. You also didn't wanna stay for breakfast, so I know you haven't eaten anything yet."

The hustle and bustle of everyone around you stops whenever they walk too close to where you're at.

Knowing your face has been thrown around all over social media these past few weeks, it's no surprise nor doubt that you've already got a reputation, be it more bad than good. The sight of you being right next to the monster involved with you in your bus incident is apparently a surreal one based on the looks people display, these varying mostly between shock, amusement, and caution -- sometimes all three at once. You step out of the motorcycle when the skeleton offers a hand out to you, further making those around you demonstrate their feelings over the scene unfolding before their eyes.

You don't bother giving them a minute of your time and rather keep your hold firm on Sans's hand, nodding your head subtly when he casts a look at you. 

"Play along," you mouth, smiling at him. "Don't bother with this stuff," you whisper, close to his ear cavity. "The best we can do right now's prevent something like that bus incident from ever happening again." To avoid letting the situation receive another meaning from him, you hold his hand stronger, getting him to walk closer to your side again. "And thanks again for back then, by the way." You say those words only loud enough for only him to hear. Then, you move your gaze away from him to direct a sterner, unamused look at a passerby, this one having stayed looking at you for just a little too long.

You continue walking and ignoring stares until you arrive at the school supply closest by. 

With Frisk being gone for almost two months during their time spent at the Underground, it's of no surprise plenty of things have changed at their school. One of these were the new materials required for the start of their second semester, mostly for physical education and the newest addition of a gardening class. Although you hadn't thought the skeleton would offer himself to help you get through your to-do list, you adapt and thank him. Truthfully, you expected him to simply drop you off at work and leave.

"Do you want to eat something first? You haven't had breakfast yet either, have you?" you ask, spotting a diner barely a block away. "There's still time, if you're really up for this. And Undyne already said Papyrus got his car fixed, so you don't need to go pick him up anymore."

"Askin' me out? Thought I was the one who owed ya dinner for last time."

Not wanting to satisfy his teasing any longer, you ignore his comment with a hum and search through your belongings. From there, you retrieve some brand-new ear plugs, these still in their packet. "Here," you say, handing them over to him. The monster's lucky you aren't too much of a morning person, and that he'd caught you in a good mood with the rush and the wind of the ride. Any different situation, and you would've come up with a quick retort to his comment. "I'm not sure if it'll work on your kind, but... Frisk uses them when they need to study or sleep when they're not sleepy. They get distracted easily, so I usually carry these with me, just in case."

It takes Sans a solid minute to react, though a grin shows when he takes the ear plugs from you. He looks them over once before saving them in his back pocket, and the outright cheeky look he gives you makes your senses grow alert again. For certain, there was no letting your guard down whenever he was near you from now on. "Thanks, pal," he says, winking. "You're a real dear underneath all that exterior -- All bark and no bite."

"Don't test me," you warn, scowling. "And don't call me dear."

"What about babe, then? Or do ya wanna be called Mx. Serif already?"

You huff and hurry to the school supply, leaving him behind. "I'm fine with neither. Thank you." Your steps are haste, these only stopping when you open the door, keeping it that way for him to enter next. "But if anyone's last names are getting replaced here though, it's you who'd be named Comic Sans (L/N). I don't do replacing names anymore, unless I get to keep mine."

"Assertive," he comments, whistling. "Nice."

Already feeling a headache coming through, you sigh and pay more attention to the list at hand, then head over to the store's arts and crafts section first.

"Do you need anything for you or your brother?" you ask him, keeping your eyes focused on the materials displayed. There's a bunch of items you figure could catch Papyrus's interest given by how much he liked spending time with Frisk, be it by playing with them or helping them with their homework. That thought makes you throw in a few items regardless of having not received an answer yet, endeared by the image of Frisk being happy over the surprise, and the taller skeleton as a follow-up. Not only did Toriel ensure to be a great babysitter, but Papyrus was attentive over Frisk's happiness and enjoyment just as much as he was over his elder brother's. "My treat."

You've almost forgotten who you're shopping with, thoughts having drifted away more than you were aware of, though it doesn't take long to be reminded of your company, his comment one that drags you right back to the present, too quickly for you to manage.

"You're already a treat all on your own, pal."

Pissed, you take the nearest, lightweight (and non-breakable) item to you and throw it at him. He catches it though, barely flinching or budging with how quick he reacts. Then, he looks at the item now held in his hand, diablerie flickering in his gaze. He shows you what you've thrown at him, further making you subtract another point off your comeback list and add it over to his wooing list.

"Being indirect now, huh?" he comments, holding a Valentine's Day scrapbooking kit, marked off as a discount item for how old the product is. "I like it."

Determined to fight back, you retort with, "Yeah. It's worn out and fifty-percent off, just like your poor excuses of what you call 'flirting' around with me."

Unfortunately, that only seems to make him smile more. 

"Nice."

Chapter Text

How would they react to him having caught them dancing?

That's the only question Sans can ask himself when he enters Frisk's bedroom, both parent and child too busy moving to the fast-paced beat of the song to notice him by the door. 

Against interrupting their moment, Sans stands by and observes the scene from afar, paying attention to both people involved in the dance. Nonetheless, his attention soon moves on to the near faultless sway of (Y/N)'s arms, waist, and footsteps, following up to the harmony of the song. The view makes him wonder if -- perhaps -- they'd practiced a similar dance for the night of their wedding. It's either that, or they're secretly a dance teacher in their free time, somehow balanced with their full-time work as a secretary. There's likely no other, reasonable explanation over the swiftness and clean execution in each step they take, likely to have some professional experience based on how quickly they adjust to the consistent changes in rhythm with ease.

"Come on, honey!" they exclaim, grabbing Frisk by both hands and swaying them around the room. Their feet stomp rhythmically against the wooden floor, all while keeping up with their child's pace. "We'll be dancing this for your birthday in no time!" They laugh when Frisk stumbles and covers it up with improv, claps being given as a reward over their recovery. "See that? You're doing great!"

The music carries on playing as they both take a break, though the smile on Frisk's parent fades away the moment they take their phone. They lower the volume and frown at the screen; their expression's kept hidden from Frisk, who's now resting their head on their lap, the younger one's breaths steadying while the elder one's quicken. Their gaze turns wet, their shoulders taut, and they blink a few times, lower lip bitten on in an attempt at preventing that sorrow from showing any further than it has.

"(Y/N)?"

Sans doesn't know what makes him call out for them so quickly, but something about the human frowning with genuine sadness rather than annoyance over his flirting makes his soul ache. They look towards him once their shirt's long sleeve wipes the one tear that does manage to leave their eye and run down their cheek. "Yes?"

He considers what exact response he can possibly come up with, choosing the worst one out of pure unpreparedness. "You dance good."

Weren't Frisk on their lap, he would've no doubt assumed they would be kicking him out by now, yet all the human can manage is another question, sounding borderline irate when it leaves their mouth, "And just how much did you see?"

"Uh… Everything?" Again, he screws up and sees their glare darken. "I mean it, though," he adds, hoping for the best. "Are you really gonna dance with Frisk for their birthday?"

Finally, they smile, a nod accompanying it; bringing up something related to their child rather than their own self seems to do the trick, thankfully. "Yeah. It's... It's kind of a tradition by now." They hold Frisk tight by the underarms and stand up to lift them high in the sky. "It's about our fifth time doing this -- Right, honey? Though I doubt you remember when you were three! ...Or do you?" They spin Frisk around, laughing after their child does so first; the pair's foreheads bump against each other when they stop, making Frisk burst out a giggle again. "I'll keep doing it for as long as they want to!"

Their phone rings, hitting the brakes on their joy again. They set Frisk back down on the floor and clench their hands in what looks to be them bracing themselves. When they find some courage, they take the device from where they'd left it, eyes tearing up again after. "Sorry about this, but… Could you watch over them for a moment? I- I need to take this call."

Sans nods, gesturing for them to go on ahead. "No problem, pal. Take your time."

"Thank you."

When they're gone, Frisk's smile falls and it's not long until they frown. 

They approach the skeleton's side and tug at his jacket, grabbing his attention. He looks down at them, now sitting by the floor, music long faded from the room. "Do you... think they're okay?" Frisk signs, facing him. "They've been frowning at their phone all day, but they… They won't tell me what's wrong."

Sans lets out a sigh, sitting beside Frisk as he nods and tries his best not to bring any unnecessary tension into the situation. 

"I'm sure they're fine," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. "They're just, uh… a lil' worried, as a parent." While he wasn't one for making quick assumptions, he can only figure the frown on their face is connected to their ex. If it was Frisk's birthday soon, it would no doubt mean Jerry was trying to regain contact with them again. "They just don't wanna make ya worry about any unnecessary stuff, so maybe that's why they're keepin' it from you."

The monster assumes he's said something wrong when anger shows on Frisk's face. 

He sees them stand up as their hands ball and gaze narrows. "And why… Why would their troubles be unnecessary?" At the sound of their voice, he braces himself, fearing the situation's become a way bigger deal than he expected it to be. "How... How can you worry so little, if you like them so much? I thought you'd at least make an effort to ask what's wrong!"

"Frisk," he calls out, caught off guard by their outburst. "I don't really think I'm in the right place to be askin' them about that kinda stuff." His face turns warm; how the child managed to find out what was going on between him and their parent is a mystery to him. The skeleton had been extra careful not to flirt with them when Frisk was around, mainly to avoid any unneeded drama. "And how do you even know I like them?"

"You just admitted it!" Frisk points a finger at him, frowning. "Why do you like them? Da- Jerry said he did, but it didn't last long. And... And didn't Toriel break up with Asgore, too? How… How should I know you like them for real, then?"

"I'm sorry to say this, but you're buttin' into stuff you don't really understand yet, bud."

"It still doesn't mean I'm not right! S- So if you really like them, you- You should ask them what's wrong. Last time something like this happened, it was all my fault!"

Not quite sure how to approach Frisk now, Sans resorts to telling them to sit back down and finds preparedness through a deep breath. "Now, listen up," he says, patting the top of their head. "This is somethin' you shouldn't be worryin' too much about. I know it's normal and natural for you to worry about them, but this stuff's unfortunately somethin' only they can deal with right now." He lets go, pausing for another breath. "I'm not sure how they got hurt, but it's likely it wasn't your fault."

"How can you be so sure it's not my fault?" Again, Frisk switches back to sign language, though the faint tremble of their hands lets Sans know they're not quite convinced yet. "You said you didn't know how they got hurt!"

"And it's 'cause I ain't pushin' for you to tell me anything. Unless you really want to, the only thing I can get from this situation is trouble they're havin' with someone else, not you."

Frisk huffs, bringing their knees against their torso as they hug themselves, speaking up again, "If I tell you, c- could you tell me if it's really my fault?" They sniffle. "I... I really don't want to see them like that anymore."

"You really okay with tellin' me about it?"

They nod. "...Yes."

Sans catches (Y/N) at the balcony, standing in the middle of Toriel's hanging plants, potted cherry trees, and a wide variety of floral arrangements. Their face points down, and he can catch the silhouette of their phone, now in their dress pants' back pocket. They're still and quiet, though when he hears them sniffle, he calls out their name, making them turn around.

"Oh." He's welcomed by that noise and a face smeared with tears, a view they try to cover up by taking a napkin from their pocket and covering the mess away from his sight. "I'm... I'm sorry," they say, fixing themselves up. "I... made you wait too long, didn't I?" They crumple the napkin and pocket it away, face now revealing a tired gaze. A few subtle hints of their lament are still present, though he chooses not to comment on that, not wanting to interrupt them just yet. "I should go now."

Their steps are haste as they try to walk past him, making him resort for yet another risky move -- this one way worse than the last. 

"Wait," he calls out, grabbing their wrist.

They react almost similar to last time at the Ruins, and a yelp comes from their lips. When they look down at his hand, he catches a trace of embarrassment in their own gaze, rounded eyes going back to their normal state after he lets go and takes a step back. 

"Wh- What is it?" They try to sound polite, though there's an edge of caution in their tone.

Had they reacted out of fear again, or was his flirting getting to them that badly?

"I need to talk with you about somethin'."

"...Can't it be done tomorrow?"

"Frisk asked me to."

As expected, they soften up at the mention of that name. They let their shoulders fall and frown disappear; a smile shows through, apologetic in more ways than one. "I have another meeting at five today," they reply, letting out a breath. "Do you think it could be done after I'm back? I need to take another call before I leave." They spare a moment to look at the time on their phone, facing what Sans assumes is a tardy hour based on how their smile falters. "And I'll... I'll probably just take it on bluetooth while I drive." They pinch the bridge of their nose, closing their eyes and huffing out another breath afterwards. "I'm out of time already."

They approach the door and smile again before leaving -- a mischievous one rather than apologetic like before; it's a look far different from their previous gloom and a change far too sudden for it not to warn over something. Thankfully, they stop right as they turn the knob and leave the door ajar. Then, they look at him, eyes half-lidded and smile much more prominent in their posture. "Thank you, Serif," they say, smile picking up at the sides; a glint shows in their gaze, though the monster's left unsure as to what it means. "You're a pretty decent guy when you're not trying to woo me over every five or six seconds."

They leave and close the door before he can say anything in response, invoking a persistent sense of sheepishness he can't quite shake right off the bat. He wonders whether they're joking around with him or not, the way those words had come out clearly meant to be taken that way, but the look in their eyes conflicting with that thought. Whether they were fed up with him or not he was less and less certain about the more he got to spend time with them, making it harder to tell when they were being serious about him or not.

Were they making fun of him?

Or did they really mean those words?

Those are the two main questions to occupy his mind as he approaches the place they had been standing at. He looks over the railings of the balcony, the view of flourishing nature and cloudy skies helping him not give too much thought over the situation. What brings him back is the reminder of what Frisk wanted him to talk about with their parent. 

While Sans could've easily declined by saying the topic was none of his business, as he stares again at the sky and considers the possibility of things having finally settled down for everyone he knew, he figures that's the best possible way to pay back for being let out into the Surface. 

But how in the world did Frisk manage to find him out?

Was he being too obvious, or were they really that observant?

At the thought of what they had mentioned about not wanting any more drama pushed into their life, he considers whether to stop, or to perhaps be more subtle in his tries. He stops himself for a second and considers just why he was being so persistent in flirting around with them through these past few weeks. They already looked to be more than immune to any sort of flattery, so it seemed pointless to even try.

So what made him want to continue trying to fix things between him and them, and what kept them from telling him to get lost?

Were they too nice for that?

Scared of him, maybe?

He remembers the tour date and the results that came with them, far different from what he anticipated after it came to an end: rather than following along with his jokes, they had outright watered him down with each comment he made and shot right back at him without hesitation.

"Enemies to lovers is a thing, though."

"Only in low-quality romcoms."

That had been their breaking point, and -- even to this day -- he can tell their patience has yet to recover from that time at Waterfall.

Chapter Text

Today's the day, and though there's no going back now, one look at the last message your ex sent you makes you wish you could.

I'll 🐝 there in 30 ⌚, babe. 😘😘😘

💋💖🥺 Miss you. 🥺💖💋

K.

The overuse of emojis topped off with him calling you ‘babe’ makes you regret so much as the thought of meeting him already.

It's hard to imagine a normal conversation with Jerry given how awfully long it's been since you last talked and how blatant you were being through texts, ignoring all the ones about the info he dug up on monsterkind and only answering his most recent message with a 'K'. You didn't want to hear his reasons behind his absence after how bad things were left between you, and even less did you want him to call you 'babe' in real life. Grateful as you are to have Toriel offer her home as the place for your meeting with him, you look forward to this as much as you do having to wake up at five in the morning every weekday. Her home is busy as a result of the upcoming visitor, with Papyrus trying to make himself look like the most sophisticated gentleman possible, Toriel fixing Frisk's hair into two short braids, Undyne freshening up after exercising all her own nervousness away, Alphys practicing her introductory speech, and Sans revising Frisk's homework.

Considering how much of a handful the last person has been, you decide to take that as an opportunity for you to bother him yourself -- not only as payback, but as a way to prepare yourself to confront Jerry soon.

You approach the couch he sits on and stand behind him, his sitting height and your standing one allowing you to grab a look at what he's doing with more detail. He's around halfway through correcting Frisk's Math homework, and their English speech is already set aside with a few marks and commentary on what they had left to work with. His revision stops when you hover a little closer, making him acknowledge your presence and set the notebook aside to turn around and meet with your eyes.

"How do I look?

That's the first question you ask him, a bit of confidence shining through with how your health's managed to improve a bit since your hospitalization. While you still have to use foundation to cover up your stress blemishes and you're far from being as fit as Jerry was, it's a huge difference from how you were at the start of it all. As a result, you smile, ready to hear someone else's view of you besides Frisk, Brenda, or yourself.

"'Fraid you're asking the wrong person, pal," he replies, gaze averting from yours.

"C'mon," you insist, sitting next to him on the couch. You then shift a bit closer to the skeleton and nudge his shoulder, pouting at him after that. "Please?," you add, facing him again. "You're… You're the only one I trust who won't sugarcoat how I look if you pointed out those 'love handles' I've got a while back." 

He manages to keep his gaze and attention on the conversation, though you can see he tries to look elsewhere every so often, as if unable to stare at you for too long.

"So? I was just makin' a comparison between us, not callin' you out or anything."

"But you were still bold enough to say I had them."

You pull your hand back, noticing it's been kept on his shoulder for far too long. Then, you scoot away, growing aware of how close you are. "I don't want him to think I'm still hung up over him." You huff. "It's been almost six years now!"

"Are you still thinkin' about 'im, though?"

"Oh, hell no. He can go date whoever he wants."

Sans grabs the area where you'd touched him; the sight of that makes you worry if you'd involuntarily crossed a line with him. You're not sure how to ask if you've made him uncomfortable, so you back off and shift further away in your seat, setting your hands on your lap and staring down afterwards. "He was… nice enough to wait until I finished my second year of college for us to call our relationship off and for him to leave the picture, so I can't really blame him too much for what happened." You take in some air and look up again, maintaining your pride. "But that still doesn't mean I don't want to look my best. I've moved on, and I... I really want all that to show today."

Appearing convinced, Sans nods once and sits up straighter on the couch. Whatever made him wary of eye contact vanishes and allows him to judge you without any bias, irises scanning your face for a moment. He carries on to your attire, though it's a quicker observation in comparison and a hint of embarrassment can be seen in his body language, from how stiff his shoulders get to how his grin feels forced and bashful. "You look good. Not much different from your regular self, I'd say."

"Please, be honest with me here, Serif. I know I didn't exactly... look my best when we first met, y'know? It's fine."

"But I am being honest." Again, he averts his gaze from yours, posture staying rigid as he faces the table and stares at the open notebook. "You don't need to try and look like you've moved on, 'cause it already shows -- And even more now that you look healthier, too."

Unsure how to approach his comment, you grab your knees and clench your hands around them, sighing after. "If you really think so, then I..." You breathe in, chest feeling tighter than the belt around your waist. "Thank you."

You stand up and fix your clothes for what has to be the twentieth time today. Your heart's racing just as much as your thoughts. Honest to goodness, you were nervous over meeting Jerry again, and not because of butterflies or lingering feelings, but for how much had happened since he last visited. At the thought of him meeting the monsters and learning all about the near two months Frisk was absent from your side, your worries heighten and anxiety eats right through your confidence. 

Nervous, you gulp and look back to the couch again, offering the one still sitting there a smile. "Could you... follow me outside, please?" You wring your hands, clasping them as a subtle plead shows on your face. "I could really use your company right now."

Sans laughs at that, nodding again as he stands up, dusts off, and joins your side, winking when he looks up at you. "Thought you'd never ask, (Y/N)."

You still can't help feeling strange at the sound of him saying your name. 

While you're fully aware it was nothing out of the ordinary and that he was now in closer enough terms with you to call you that instead of 'pal' or (L/N), there remains a sudden flip in your stomach whenever he says it. Whether it was due to how wary you've become around him or how incessant he was with his flirting, it's still impossible for you to acknowledge that and get over those feelings. No way were you wasting any of your time and energy thinking about that stuff, anyway.

The temperature changes as you both step outside.

In contrast to the warmth and coziness of Toriel's home, you're greeted by cold and unrelenting winds, along with the colder, occasional water droplets falling on your face. The hint of a downpour coming soon makes you dwell on your past visit here and how you were obliged to stay the night back then. You wonder if the same ending will apply for today, or if you would have to cut your reunion short as a consequence.

"Guessin' those months without the kid around were pretty draining, huh? You look way happier compared to when we first met." Sans breaks the ice, though his hands are kept in his pockets to shield himself from both the cold and any awkward body language. "When I think about it, it's… It's kinda hard to believe it's already been just as long since we left the Underground -- And that it's gonna be Frisk's birthday soon, too." 

You face down at him, smiling when you meet with his gaze. "Has it felt like less or longer to you?"

"A weird mix between the two, actually."

You look away from each other at the sound of an engine rumbling from nearby. A familiar, red colour flashes before your eyes; the Ferrawrxd that parks at the sidewalk brings back memories, ones you try to push down. "Tori was already plannin' out somethin' for 'em by that time," the skeleton says, distracting you from the view. "Has she talked about it with you?"

"Not yet," you reply, facing your shoes. "But I wanted to ask her if she'd like to help out -- It's the least I can do with how much she cares for Frisk."

Despite your best efforts not to, you tense up at the sound of a person stepping down and a car door being shut and locked.

Now that you're actually about to confront your ex, it's hard for you to keep your confidence and face up at that sight. "You should do it, then." Again, Sans's voice helps melt your worries down. "I'm sure she'll be more than happy to join you in that -- And pretty much the rest of Frisk's friends, too." You can feel his gaze on you, though you don't look at him, still too anxious to move your eyes away from the floor. "And I'd be more than happy to help also, so just say the word if you need me."

The earthy scent of roses catches you off guard and makes you look up to see a large, white-and-red bouquet being offered out to you, ex-husband standing behind them. "How's it going, babe?" he asks, a smile present on his face. "I missed you."

You back up against the door to Toriel's home and face the man in front of you with careful eyes. Your breathing hitches with how different a greeting that is from your expectations; the sight of him having no companion around and the use of 'babe' makes it obvious as to what the bouquet means. It's even more than evident with the lull in his tone and the soft look in his eyes, though you don't want to acknowledge that. To counter, you step closer to the skeleton's side and look at your ex right in the eye, a firm look remaining in yours. 

"I'm doing alright," you reply, stoic. You then take the flowers from him, paying little attention to them and ignoring his other comment. "This is Sans. Though I'm sure you've heard about him already," you add, gesturing with a hand over to him. Pretending you hadn't seen Jerry at the restaurant back at the very beginning of it all is the best you can do for now with how hard it is to lie about it. "He's one of Frisk's friends from the Underground."

The pair exchange a look, one you can only remain curious over when you remind yourself over the purpose for Jerry's visit. You glare sharply at him, wanting to stand your ground. "Why return after a whole year of not coming around to see your child?" Finally, you cross your arms tight and let your displeasure known through a grimace. "Frisk was gone for almost two whole months, and yet you never worried to ask if I needed help with that or not!"

You take a step forward, anger bubbling the more you let those words dawn upon you. "You came to visit us only after the hardest stage was over. The one where I needed you the most!" You hold yourself back, against letting your voice turn any louder or making a scene of any sort.

"Well, I..." he counters, gaze narrowing and frown showing. "I waited two whole years for you to start out college before ending our relationship, and I'm still paying child support to this day."

"And I had to divide time between taking care of a two year-old with work and college!" You huff out, trying to contain yourself. "This isn't a competition, Jerry. It never was." A sharp bite to the inside of your lip is what's necessary for you to keep yourself from exploding any further than you have already, against showing any more weakness in front of him. "I don't care if you decided to leave, I only wanted you to at least pretend you cared for Frisk. Not just show up and visit once a year like freakin' Santa Claus!"

He glares back at you, keeping it that way when he looks down at Sans, his height not only towering over the monster, but you, as well. "At least I'm not dating a Halloween decoration seven years after my divorce!" 

Wham!

You shove the bouquet right at his chest.

Your nostrils flare and your hands ball up tight as you stare him down, frown changing for a deep and unwavering scowl. "Don't talk to him like that!" You pause and take another step forward, enough for him to do the opposite. "Don't call me babe, and don't give me flowers if you're just gonna assume I'm dating someone else! I'm through with you, Jerry, and it's been that way since six damn years ago."

Jerry's eyes lower back to the skeleton, who takes his hands out of his pockets and straightens up. He faces your ex, looking amused. "So this is the one you told me you liked, man?" he asks, brushing you aside to make way towards Sans. "Is this really the one you told me you were into? I thought we were bros!"

"Wait, what?"

Those are the only words you can say out loud as you watch the two confront each other, tension thick in the air. Jerry takes in all of it, while the monster keeps his cool, shrugging at his bro. "Sorry to lay it down like this, but yeah," he says, snickering. "They're who I'm into." He spares a quick glance at you, winking to further fuel your ex's anger. "I gotta admit, it's a bit awkward. Though I really dunno why you're so worked up over this if you had your time all those years ago. Ain't my fault you two broke up."

"They're my ex-spouse, bro!"

"Yeah -- I'm well-aware of that, pal."

You back away from the door when it opens, revealing a frowning Toriel behind it. 

"Is everything alright out there, you two? Someone sounds angry." When she catches sight of Jerry, her eyes brighten and a smile overcomes her. "I see our new guest is here! Come along now. I cannot wait to meet Frisk's other parent!"

"Inna second, Tori," Sans says, grinning up at your ex. "Just havin' a talk with 'im first."

The goat lady nods, and a knowing look's exchanged between them two; she then closes the door after that, leaving you be.

Overwhelmed and in need of some painkillers for a future headache, you take a step back meanwhile, not quite in favour of getting caught up between your ex and a monster with a seemingly one-sided crush on you. 

"What more could there be to talk about?" Jerry asks, scowling. "If I'd known it was (Y/N) you'd been talking about this whole time, I would've never told you to try giving it a shot!"

He storms off inside the house and closes the door shut, leaving you alone with the skeleton, who soon beckons you over with his irises, a look of caution visible in them. 

"You okay, pal?" he asks, hands going back in his pockets. "Sorry I got ya mixed up in all this. I know you don't want any drama, but I really didn't think he'd figure me out like this."

You stand by the door and lean against the wall while you consider his words. 

It doesn't take too long for a smile to show up on your face. You sigh, choosing to believe him for now. "It's alright," you say, dismissing his words. "The look you gave each other before this kind of... showed that." You pause, curiosity intervening. "How did you guys become friends, anyway? Didn't he pretty much hate your guts a while back?"

"Met 'im again while workin' at a hot dog stand, so we've been able to talk some more since then." Sans joins your side, similar to the day at Waterfall, but with an easier atmosphere present between you. "He came over to grab a bite, we found some stuff in common, and then we kinda just became friends from there on -- Surprisingly." He hums, a faint chuckle interrupting it. "We started talkin' about our love lives two weeks into gettin' to know each other. And about a month after you confronted me over at that restaurant." His hands leave his pockets, these placing themselves behind his skull as he further reclines against the wall. "I told 'im I'd met someone I was interested in, but when he asked for specifics, I said they weren't really into me. Told 'im they were a single parent, and that maybe that had somethin' to do with them not fallin' easily enough for my flirtin'."

He stops, though you still want to hear more. You nod at him, hope over him carrying on remaining. "Is... Is that all?"

"You'll get mad at me if I keep tellin' you what I told 'im about you."

"I can't promise I won't, but I'll try not to."

The monster takes in a breath, and his relaxed state is then replaced by a subtle mousiness he tries to cover up, mainly by remaining calm and casual.

"I told him your stubbornness and integrity were kinda just... hot, and that I had a thing for not only your looks, but just you, in general -- As a person, I mean."

"Do you still feel that way about me?"

You don't know what makes you blurt that question out, but it's far too late for you to dwell over it now of all times.

"Of course I do," Sans says, rubbing the back of his neck. "I told Jerry 'bout that last part just a few days ago." He stops again, breathing in deep once more. "I was, well, only doing it for fun back when it started. But now... Now I really mean it when I flirt with you, (Y/N)."

Chapter Text

"Cool braids," Jerry says, smiling at Frisk. "Did you make them yourself?"

The one questioned seems less than enthused by him, though there's no denying how their face lights up at the compliment. "Toriel made them for me," they sign, going back to their bored expression afterwards. Their attitude is distant and shows how they aren’t ready to confront the past yet. They stand up and look away from him, a frown etched deep in their expression all the while. "I have to finish my homework now."

"Bring it here." Jerry tries to be cheerful, but fails horribly, smile and tone both coming off forced and awkward as he tries to hype up the situation as best as he can. "I can help you!"

Though they try to hide it from everyone else in the room, Sans can see how Frisk rolls their eyes, pouts, and then mutters something under their breath. "It's fine. I don't need any help with what's left."

They almost mimic their parent in character and tone, acting just as stern and cold, if not more with how hard it is for them to pretend the opposite.

"I'd still like to know how you're doing in school." Jerry's tone changes, paired up with his expression: eyebrows creased, eyes glaring, and smile gone. "You're... You're the only one left who can tell me how things are going lately, now that (Y/N) won't answer my messages anymore."

"Why don't you ask that guy, then? You're friends, as far as I know."

Their angry gaze points at Sans as they sign the words: "Why are you friends with him?" with the most annoyed gestures possible, and quick enough for Jerry not to notice what they're doing or saying. Then, they look at their father again, seemingly running thin and out of patience with the way they look at him, a look so frigid it could put an ice skating rink to shame. "You haven't answered my question yet."

"Believe me, Frisk." Jerry huffs. "I've tried, but he refuses to tell me anything -- says it's not in his place to tell me about you and all that stuff."

"Cool," is Frisk's only reaction as they spare a look at their surroundings. "It's better that way."

The child sighs and walks away, not once looking back -- and not even as their father calls out for them by their full name.

"Come back here," he demands, standing up and glaring at the hallway Frisk passes through. "Or I'll have to ask why you've got such awful manners today. What have they been teaching you these days, huh? You've never been like this before!"

"People change," they snap, stopping for a second to look at him. "So…" Their voice trembles as they take a second to ball their hands and direct their angry look at the floor. "So stop blaming them for everything, if you really want to talk to me."

They're gone for good after that, giving Jerry no chance to talk or ask questions any longer.

He's left fuming, and when he catches Sans's gaze, his anger augments.

"What the hell have you taught Frisk since I was gone? They- They were never like this with me before!”

"Never?" Sans asks, facing up at Jerry when he joins his side. "Hadn't you seen them since last Christmas before today? Ten months are enough for someone to grow and change."

"That's still too big of a change." He scoffs. "Now tell me what you did -- I deserve that much, at least."

"Nothin'." He pauses, shrugging to ignore the glare Jerry continues to direct at him. "We've been here for only two months -- three, at most. You've been gone ten."

Appearing caught in a dead-end, he sees Jerry's eyes wander from Toriel preparing some documents and Papyrus helping her out, to the hallway Frisk had walked through, and -- finally -- to the kitchen, where the clinking of cutlery’s heard as his ex sets up the dinner table, while Undyne keeps an eye out for the stove and Alphys holds out a fire extinguisher near the scene. Sans has a hunch as to what Jerry's planning simply by the dour look on his face alone, so he holds the man back by the arm, saying, "Don't bring 'em into this." He's faced with a sharper glare, though he doesn't brush his hand away. "The kid's mad at you by default. Nobody else's told 'em to treat you that way."

"And how would you know?" Jerry shoves him off. "You're just some guy with a crush on someone else's spouse!"

"Ex-spouse." Sans sneers. "They aren't tied to you anymore."

"But they still have a kid to be responsible for."

"So do you."

Jerry tries to say something back, yet he falls short and stutters before giving up. "I- I'm gonna go help them out, then."

He sees the man look back to the kitchen again, longing visible in his eyes. 

"Knock yourself out, bud. Just don't go pressurin' 'em too much." The two spare a look at each other, a silent battle forming in Jerry's gaze while the monster remains stern but nonchalant. "You know what happened back at that bus. They need their time to rest."

A more empathic look softens up Jerry's visage as he nods, finally cracking a smile with it. "I know." He sighs. "But I have no clue how I didn't notice it was them you liked with how many damn comments there were about it on those videos."

"That's 'cuz we were barely gettin' to know each other back then." His confession's abrupt and appears to catch Jerry by surprise. "Wasn't until some time later that I realized what I was feelin' whenever they were around."

Jerry keeps quiet for what has to be a solid minute; it's a miracle based on how much he's wanted to communicate today, and in so short of a time. He sighs and his glare fades. A more serene look replaces his anger as he then relaxes his posture, completing a calmer self, much more refreshing to see in comparison to his previous attitude. "I promise I won't bother them too much today, but I still need to talk."

"Today only?" Sans remarks, quirking an eye socket. "So you're goin' back to zero after that?"

"Don't be stupid. I just mean I won't be as persistent today -- I know they need to rest."

The monster decides to let it go, aware he's going nowhere with how much more obstinate Jerry is. 

He sees him enter the kitchen and immediately seek after his ex, an attitude that makes him appear similar to that of a rambunctious puppy still looking for attention even after being told to back off. Sans chuckles at that thought and shakes his head, surprising even himself with how much he's becoming concerned with matters that weren't exactly his own. It’s knowing (Y/N) was tied to the situation along with Frisk what makes him want to try and intervene a bit more, though he knows better than that, taking into account how strained his relationship with the both of them still is. It's a miracle he even managed to befriend Jerry with how obnoxious and insistent he could be at certain times -- even more than Sans was himself.

...Was that why they hadn't outright rejected him yet?

Did he resemble Jerry in attitude, somewhat?

Sans brushes that thought aside and proceeds to walk off to the hallway; the faint sounds of someone crying are heard nearby, prompting him to search for who it is.

He passes by a bedroom, a mini office, then a bathroom, until reaching the middle of the hallway. The person's crying sounds louder when he reaches Toriel's bedroom, though based on how young the voice is and that Toriel's still working with some documents back in the living room, he discards her as a possibility. He hears a few sniffles before the crying controls itself a bit more, making it seem as if the one behind that door heard his footsteps and chose not to be found out. Still, they carry on crying after some time, sniffles changing into sobs and sobs changing into loud and shuddering hiccups.

"...Frisk?" he calls out, knocking on the door twice.

The crying stops almost abruptly.

"Who's there?" they ask.

Weren't this such a pressing situation, he wouldn't hesitate so much in responding as he usually did to that type of question. He sighs and rests a hand against the door, drumming his fingers until he replies with, "Sans."

"...Sans who?"

"Without your permission, I cannot pass."

He can't avoid the chuckle that follows when he hears them huff -- dramatically so. Soft footsteps and a click are the two sounds that lead before the door opens, revealing a tired Frisk with puffy, red eyes and an equally reddish, runny nose. Their hair's a messy bob, and the hair ties and ribbons Toriel used to keep the braids in place are no longer being worn.

"What do you want?"

"I wanna talk."

"No."

They almost shut the door right on his face, though he backs away on time, and -- as if seeming to trigger an unlisted superpower in their parent -- they appear behind him, nearly giving him a soul attack.

"What's wrong?" they ask, peering over his shoulder. It's an evident, purposeful act on their part to tease him further and pay back at him, as they're already aware of how far his crush on them's gone. Still, they know their personal space and step back after that, leading him to turn his back on the door and face them instead. "...Was that Frisk? Wh- Why are they crying? And why are their braids gone? I swear if Jerry did something I-"

"He didn't say anything about that," Sans intervenes, calming them down by pulling them along with him next to the door and lowering his voice for only them to hear. "He, uh... tried to talk with Frisk, but they're still angry at him -- understandably. But they still don't wanna talk about it."

"Let me try, then," they say, sighing. "I think it's about time they told me at least something about what's bothering them -- Not just hide away like this every chance they get."

"So they always do that?"

They nod. "Whenever I try to talk about Jerry, mostly.” A subtle scowl accompanies the frustration in their tone. “But when it's about them telling me what happened to them at the Underground, they ignore my question by doing pretty much anything else that doesn't have to do with that." A tremble shows in their body as they take a second to breathe. "But today needs to be a different story -- They can’t keep running from this."

"No!"

Sans sees patience fade from their eyes at that sound, somewhat muffled by the door, but still an evident shout from Frisk.

"Sans is friends with Jerry, and- And now you're talking with him like that means nothing to you!"

The human narrows their eyes at the door as they stand in front of it. "Sans and Jerry being friends has nothing to do with any of this." They huff. "Did you really think they would be enemies right from the start?"

"Yes! Just like how Prince Charmin Ultra Strong gets defeated by Shrenk!"

Surprisingly, they don't get any angrier and -- on the contrary -- smile at that comparison. They bite their lip to hold it back, though they still fail when they reply with, "Does that suggest Jerry's mom is gonna be a bigger villain later?"

Some silence passes. "I mean, yeah. Don't you remember how sad and angry she was when Jerry tried proposing again, but then you rejected him?"

At that, the monster's grin shows up and he finds himself blurting out, "He tried it again?"

"Yes." The moment they spare to answer his question ends as they look back at the door and say, "Of course, I remember, but you still shouldn't have those expectations, dear. This isn't a good versus evil situation -- There's a lot more to it than that." They bump their forehead against the door, seemingly giving up their strong and stern facade as they press their lips tight and try to suck up some sadness by sniffling and looking at the floor. "You- You must've realized that, too, right? Some of your new friends hurt you at one point, didn't they? And then you still try to defend me despite all the bad choices I've made in the past. I… I know Jerry screwed up-"

"-a lot," Frisk interrupts, making them sigh.

"-but that still doesn't mean you should compare like that."

"But what if he's a villain in my eyes?" they ask, though it's more of a statement than the former. "The only good thing he's done today is compliment my hair -- That's it! And I'm pretty sure you haven't even used any of that support money he gives you, so it's not like we really owe him anything, either."

"How do you know that?"

"I'm not dumb. That's the reason why you worked so much in the past, isn't it? You... You just sent that child support money back to him, and kept some only for emergencies."

"That-"

"You tell me not to see him as a bad guy, but you still do that by refusing any help and doing everything by yourself."

"That still doesn't mean you'll owe him any of those funds, dear. In the end, we chose to (have/adopt) you, so you'll never owe us any of that money we provide for raising you."

"So why did you reject his part of the responsibility, then?"

The kid could be a lawyer with how quickly that question corners their parent in place. Their once firm, narrowed eyes turn wide and a guilty look makes their forehead wrinkle and mouth form a grimace. They don't say anything as they reach out for the doorknob and try to turn it around. "Open the door. We can't keep talking like this."

"Answer my question first," Frisk says, voice faltering midway. "Please?"

(Y/N) gives in with an exhale, chest shuddering in the process. "I…” They clench their hand and hesitate. “I didn't want to owe him anything." They rest their forehead against the door again, looking more defeated than before when they close their eyes and fight their frown away. "That's why."

Quiet remains after their response.

The door doesn't click or budge, signaling for the one waiting outside to give up for now. They walk back to the monster's side and sit on the floor; their gaze looks left and right, observing the hallway with a distinctive boredom only sadness can bring upon someone. They're almost a mirror of Frisk back when he caught the two of them dancing: knees pressed right to their chest as they hug themselves tight.

Though it takes him a while to do anything, Sans soon settles on the thought that doing something is much better than nothing right now, so he tries to accompany them by the floor. He sits next to them and offers a literal shoulder for them to lay on, the softness of his jacket helping numb the hardness of his bones. They rest their head there and close their eyes, breaths steadying the longer they stay that way. "You kinda smell like Old Spicy," they comment, chuckling. "Like my aunt's new boyfriend’s cologne." They sniff a few times and scooch a bit closer to his side. "...Sorry. That was weird."

He laughs. "Guess I'll have to try a different kind next ti-"

Click.

Followed by the door being unlocked is Frisk opening it and leaving the room. They then look at him and their parent with the most appalled expression possible, similar to a scrungy cat. "You two are mushier than a bag of marshmallows left under the sun.”

Saying that, they turn around and take their leave, adding, “I’m gonna go talk with Jerry now,” before their other parent can say anything as an objection.

“Still not gonna call him dad?” they ask, though it comes off more teasing than demanding.

“Not until he earns it.” Frisk looks at the skeleton with sharp, judging eyes. “Because right now, even Skeletor’s brother is a better candidate for that.”

They’re gone in a flash after that comment, leaving Sans to process the heavy weight of those words and for the human next to him to stand up, gape, and look to where their child ran off to.

“W- Watch your words, Frisk,” they shout at the empty hallway, voice masking their embarrassment by being loud. "You're on thin ice!"

Chapter Text

"Where're you going?"

Frisk's voice activates an unregistered fight or flight response in you, and by that it means their voice makes you hide what you're doing like a closeted person would do with their phone when scrolling through gay stuff near their friends and family.

You stop halfway through getting dressed up and assess your situation before giving them an answer. Between the iron left next to your once wrinkled, button-up shirt and a bottle of fragrance held up in your hand, finding an explanation as to why you're putting more effort than usual into something for your own, personal benefit is hard to do. "I'm going grocery shopping." Your words come out rushed, not wanting to be caught in a lie. "And then I'm going to meet with a friend."

"Is… Is it a date?"

Their bluntness makes you delay on a response.

"No," you say, words weighted down by guilt. "We'll just be hanging out like normal."

Giving up, Frisk glances at your phone and smiles when a few notifications show up on screen. "Is it Sans?" they ask again, now confident.

You try not to let your gaze widen and ignore the way your heart's already racing. "...How did you know?"

"You admitted it just now!" they exclaim, pointing a finger at you. "You're just like him." An angry look falls on their face and their arms cross with each other. "What are you trying to hide now?" They huff. "You're keeping things secret from me again!"

"I'm not hiding anything, honey." You scrunch your nose and bring a hand to your forehead, tension eating it up. 

You sit next to Frisk in bed and grab them by the shoulders right as you continue with, "He just…" You think about why exactly this is a thing, until you're reminded by the 'buy me dinner first' joke you made the day of the blackout. "He only invited me over to his place for dinner. I don't even see him as a friend, so I… I really don't think him as my boyfriend would be any closer, either." You catch your breath and prepare yourself to keep going. "I mean it when I say we'll just be hanging out." When you see Frisk keep quiet, you hold their shoulders tighter and try to get them to face you. "Are you worried about me?" you ask, going further back in your memories to the day Sans had seen you and Frisk dancing. "Sans, he... He told me about what you were feeling guilty over."

They freeze under your touch. A faint, concerned frown displays itself on their mouth, one they try to fight off. "And what did he say?"

Their voice is too quiet for your liking. It feels like you're threading a needle now -- except the needle is a syringe filled with sour truths and that failing to aim at your target would result in serious consequences. You have to take all possible perspectives into account: from your own, to Frisk's, to Jerry's, and every other viewpoints related to the situation. Completely adhering to one would either make you seem too self-absorbed, too lenient, too forgiving, or something else entirely.

You pass a hand through their hair and brush their bangs off their face. From there, you press a quick kiss to their forehead, allowing them to relax for a brief moment. "That you felt guilty about all this stuff going on with Jerry and me, and that it was one of the reasons why you ran away before falling to the Underground." Frisk holds you tighter, shivers, and presses their face against your chest, staying there while you talk. "He... also said you still felt bad over the last time you ran away, and over those calls I was getting from Jerry before he came over to visit Toriel's last week." You let go of Frisk, wanting them to face you. "You shouldn't feel guilty about any of that stuff, dear," you add, placing a hand on their head. "We broke up when you were way younger, and in the end, it was… It was a choice we both agreed on."

"But why did you agree?"

You don't want to answer, though judging by how close they are to tearing up, you check the time to make sure you have some left to talk a little more.

4:30 p.m.

Sans would be arriving in half an hour, and while you're almost done getting dressed up and ready to leave, your current situation makes you wish for him to be here already. 

You try not to let the situation get to you; the reminder that you've left the iron on and that you still have some stuff left to do helps with that. "He..." You stall for time, far from ready to be direct with Frisk about anything related to the past. "He said he didn't feel responsible enough to look after you sometime after you were (born/adopted), but..." A headache makes you stop for a second. Tension weighs down on your shoulders, and you can feel your hands grow sweaty, a product of anxiety. "But he still came to visit twice every week until you were four. He just... wasn't ready for this, in the end."

"And now he only visits on Christmas!"

"Lower your voice," you say, words stern. "Didn't you talk with him last time? He's trying to change now."

"Yeah, but he's still being a real butt about it. I... I couldn't get anywhere with him always saying mean stuff about other people!"

You frown and quirk a brow. "I highly doubt that's all of it, even if he is that way sometimes." You sigh and try to find a way around this, only to fail with each thought that comes to mind. "It's fine if you don't trust him yet, but it's not right to-"

Frisk stands up, hands fists and feet stomping against old, creaky floorboards. A glare's present on their face, meant more at who they exclaimed about rather than at you. "He only came over last week to see who my new friends were. He... He doesn't even check up on me anymore, but then… But then he still called you all those times ju- just to say me falling down was all your fault!"

You look at Frisk in the eyes and give it your best not to frown again. "How do you know that?" It's a stupid question taking into consideration how persistent they can be over certain situations, and even more knowing they had a talk with Sans about it before having him reveal this to you himself.

"You got sad every time Jerry called, and I heard him saying it was your fault one time. But… But when I asked Sans about it, he said it wasn't something I had to worry about!"

"And that's because it's true. None of this is your fault, and none of this is stuff you should be worrying about."

"By you're my parent!" they shout, voice breaking. "Do you- Do you really expect me not to care? Maybe Jerry visits me sometimes, but you're always here. I can't just ignore you!"

"You're not ignoring me, honey. This is something only I can deal with."

"That's what Sans said!" Frisk sounds a level or two beyond exasperated by now; as a consequence, you make it your mission not to worsen the situation by telling them to calm down while you do the same. You take a tissue and clean the sadness away from their face, though it continues to pour down no matter how many times you do it. "If… If I made it safe and with new friends out of the Underground, how come I can't help you with this kind of stuff?"

You try to find peace of mind, a challenge too big for you to take without having energy drained from your body. "Just like you made your journey through the Underground, this is part of my own journey -- I don't need your help to overcome it. Simply you being here by my side is enough."

Frisk softens up and pulls you into a hug. They murmur something against you, though you can barely hear it with how hushed they are about it. "What?" you ask, not quite catching their words.

"So… So none of this is my fault?"

You hide their face against your neck and hug them back, twice as tight. Then, you shake your head and pull them closer, kissing their cheek in the process. "Of course it's not. The first time you ran away, you were only four, and it was all because your father and I were arguing way too much about something stupid." You stop, eyes stinging with pent-up tears. "If anyone's guilty here, I think it's him and me."

The alarm on your phone rings, signaling for you to make your last arrangements before leaving off to Sans's home.

You let go of Frisk and pat their head; they smile at that, giggling when you poke their waist and tickle their sides. "I have to finish getting ready now." You turn your back to them as you make way to the dresser. Once there, you list and organize what you plan to bring with you as a 'just in case' and fix the few tear marks on your face, wanting to leave things in order as well as look your best. Though it feels silly to be preparing so much for something so simple, it provides enough reassurance for you not to back away from this at the very last minute. 

You look at Frisk when you're done and see them smile when they catch you staring. 

"I should be back by eight," you say, smiling back at them. "Are you really sure you're okay being left with Undyne?"

Frisk nods. "As long as she's not cooking, the house is safe!"

"Well, lucky for you, food's already waiting at the stove." You chuckle and gather your keys, wallet, gum, and pretty much every other thing you can think of inside your bag.

While you're not sure why you're nervous over meeting the skeleton at his home, being well-prepared for the occasion makes it easier for your mind to rest. Truthfully, the night at Toriel's and the motorcycle ride the day after had helped you ease in more with Sans by your side, though that still didn't mean you weren't wary around him. You check your phone when hearing it ring again, but with a different tone this time -- messages rather than an alarm, a call, or a calendar event.

i'll be there in 15 mins.

i'm already in your neighborhood, but i stopped to go look for somethin'.

you ready, pal?

I think so.

nice.

i wanna show ya somethin' before we get to my place.

Care to elaborate over what is that 'something'?

take it i'm still a stranger to you?

Somewhat.

What do you want to show me?

there's a place that sells sweets nearby.

i'm kinda there right now, just passin' by.

saw the line, and it turns out it's the new pâtisserie thing that opened up last week.

it's makin' muffet's bakery some good competition, so i went to check it out.

what kinda sweets do you like?

Well…

I don't know what's your plan, but...

I guess something sweet sounds pretty good right now.

then we'll go buy some there together first.

on me.

What's your plan, Sans?

Are you trying to make this a date?

You know what I said was a joke, so there's really no need for you to do this.

not really.

unless you consider it that way, i'm fine with finally gettin' the chance for us to be friends fo' realsies.

and i know you were jokin' around, but i like takin' opportunities when i see 'em.

You put the phone down and back away, needing a moment to take in the weight of the monster's words. While you're not sure if he truly means them or not, you can't avoid taking them into consideration. You want to ask why he wants you to be his friend, yet by the time you pick up the phone again, there's already another message up on screen. 

i'm here.

Your eyebrows furrow at that message while your hand scrolls to see just how much time passed since he sent his previous one. It's a ten-minute interval between them both, making you question why you'd taken so long to find an answer. You leave your bedroom and rush off to the living room, already hearing the motorcycle from afar. Behind you, Frisk sits by the couch, eyes following your movements like a cat after laser's light. 

"I mean it," you say, facing them. "It's not a date."

Frisk grins, props their elbows over the armrest, and rests their chin on top of their hands. They then let go of that pose, sit up straighter, and reply with, "Then why did you both bother dressing up?"

Their comment makes you look back outside to see the driver, focusing on him rather than on the vehicle he's in. His trademark jacket's gone for today, and a casual polo replaces his usual, plain t-shirt. When he takes off his helmet, you look away, feeling caught. "Friends dress up to go out. It's really nothing big, dear." You take out your phone when you hear it ring again. Another message shows through, this time by a different sender. 

Made it, finally!!

It's Undyne.

Before you can reply, a few more messages pop up, her typing speed deemed worthy of a challenge. 

And is that Sans outside??

I knew it. ;3c

You laugh at the sight of her last message. The little face at the end is a surprise to see with the serious image you have of her, so you associate her use of it with Alphys. With her being the one most likely to send messages like those, it's not so far-fetched of a possibility for her to be influencing Undyne in her texting style.

So THAT'S why.

If that's the case, take all the time you need.

I'll cover for you until the end of your date, so no worries!

Who says it's a date?

I do.

You're going over to *his* place, eating dinner made by *him*, and it's just the two of you!

What else can it be?

A friendly way of getting to know the person responsible for judging people at the Underground.

Who was also a sentry for Asgore.

And who's still a stranger to me.

That's it.

Well, geez!

You're no fun.

For now, I don't intend to be.

Again, thank you for looking after Frisk, but…

I still can't overlook what happened down there while I wasn't around for them.

Looking after them right now is the only way I can at least apologize to them for what I've done.

What do you mean?

Did something happen??

No.

I just wasn't there for Frisk when they needed me the most.

So now I can only try to redeem myself by being more strict than I've ever been.

And that includes not taking whatever this hangout thing with Sans is as a date.

So, what I'm getting at here is…

You'd *like* it to be a date??

Maybe.

I mean, I haven't dated anyone in around 6 years, so…

...Yeah.

A strong maybe.

>:3c

I see.

Please don't get any ideas, Undyne.

I really mean it when I say dating's not in my plans.

Well...

I can't promise I won't.

But I'll try. ;)

You sigh, lock the phone, and put it back away in your bag. You check yourself out in a mirror before leaving and open the door slowly, cautious of those waiting outside. Undyne's waiting by the front yard already while Sans is parked near the sidewalk, the former who grins wide at the sight of you.

"Ready to go out?" Undyne asks, grin growing. "Have fun, you two!"

Everything's fine up until you see which car she's gotten down from and who the driver is.

Papyrus.

Just as you're done adjusting to the idea of having dinner with Sans, doubts over being left alone with him surface.

Undyne's message about it being 'just the two of you' makes more sense now, and realizing you're far denser than cake with over-mixed batter doesn't help much with that, either.

Chapter Text

You keep repeating to yourself this is nothing but a simple and friendly outing, though it's easy to forget with how insistent Frisk and Undyne have been in terms of suggesting the opposite.

The feeling's made worse when you get down from the ride and see how grand and overwhelming the place you've been invited to is. In comparison to the warm and calm ambiance of a regular bakery or a small coffee shop, you're met with people clad in semiformal outfits and a refined atmosphere -- similar to that of a five-star restaurant. What reminds you this is just a place for eating desserts is being greeted at the front by a humbler-dressed, white-furred rabbit monster labeling himself as the second owner of the shop, the name 'Roger' spelled out on his name tag. He greets you and Sans in, and offers you a pamphlet.

"I remember you," he says, facing Sans with a smile. "You're from Snowdin, aren't you? It's nice to see you've found a date up here!" The excitement in his tone warns he's about to ramble. "It's so refreshing to see other people like us! Honestly, we… We made this shop hoping more would show up, but you two are the second couple I've had the knowledge of serving here so far!"

"Like us?" you ask, facing the monster. "Is your partner human?" 

"Yes!" he takes your hand while his nose twitches with pent-up energy. "People always come here talking a little, well... mean about it, so I always have to stay on-watch. The first couple that came here got scared off by one of those customers, but now my girlfriend makes sure to keep an eye out!" He lets go, apologizing after. "I get too excited every time I see pairs like you walk in together, but they always tell me they're just friends! And while I get that, really it's... It's such a joy to have you guys here!"

"We're actually not-"

"I get what you mean." In the spur of the moment, you interrupt Sans when he tries to say the truth. Roger's excitement is too bright to rain on, resulting in you wanting to play along. With how he is, you're sure the skeleton's not going to let you live it down, but one look at the hope in the other monster's eyes is enough to make your heart turn to mush. "This is actually our first date, but we're getting there."

Roger smiles, though it soon fades as he looks at the approaching line of customers from afar. Then, he looks to the shop to see the ones who entered in before you have already sat down. "Sorry for holding you back so much," he adds, huffing as an apologetic look makes its way through. "I try really hard not to get too excited about this kind of stuff, but again... It's so nice to have you guys here!" He points over to the counter, smile reappearing. "Go ahead and stop by the counter, alright? You can order to-go, or sit down, if you want to stay!"

"Thank you," you reply, returning his smile. 

You make way into the shop with Sans by your side, avoiding eye contact all the way to the counter. You already know he has a comment on the ready, so it's not much of a surprise when you hear him speak up right before making it there. "So," he says, chuckling. "First date, huh?" He walks a little closer to your side, trying to get you to look at him, but failing. "...Was that meant as a lie, or are you hintin' at somethin' else there, pal?"

"I'm not sure what to think of this myself, but…" You stop halfway, not wanting to admit your own wants just yet. "In the end, I only did it 'cause I couldn't bring myself to get his hopes down." A pink-furred bunnywoman takes your order. The reply you'd given Sans by text is then worded out by him, along with his own order and Frisk's favourite dessert to-go. While you have your wallet close by, you're not told to pay yet, and are instead led to an empty table, where you're both left to wait. You thank the monster as she leaves and go back to your conversation with Sans as soon as she's gone from your sight. "But even if this was a date, I still don't think I'd be able to accept having another one after today's."

At that, his curiosity rises, shown by the subtle flicker in his irises. "What do you mean?"

You avoid his gaze by toying with the cutlery left on the table. "I need to focus more on raising Frisk before going anywhere with my love life."

"Why?" There's honest confusion in his question despite how blunt and intrusive it is without any proper context, something he catches onto by using another one to elaborate his meaning better. "So you haven't dated anyone ever since that day?"

You nod while thanking a waiter, this one a brown bear dressed in more formal wear; he sets two drinks down -- one for you and one for your company. "I haven't, and to be honest I'd…" Your chest feels tight as so does your throat, both of these almost trying to distract you away from what you're about to say. "I'd like to keep it that way for as long as it's needed." You try to stop yourself from saying anything else, though the coziness of the shop and Sans's presence give you an entry for letting out what's been kept hidden for as long as that day came around. "I need to be there for Frisk, and I need to be more careful of who I date from now on." You're not sure what else's making you open up so much, but you don't exactly stop yourself from continuing with your thoughts. "You see, I… I really don't want Frisk to grow up in an environment full of constant fights and disagreements." 

As soon as you catch yourself, your brain makes a stop, yet your mouth continues to pour out what's making your heart strain as much as it is currently. "There's already enough of that in the world waiting out there for Frisk when they grow up, so the least I can do is make it a little easier for them right now." Your mind hates you at this point, though you can feel the rest of your body grow lighter, tension releasing itself from it. "That's why… why I didn't really try to stop Jerry when he started to drift away; when visits became just once a month, rather than twice a week. We didn't really get along well after we (had/adopted) Frisk, so that's why… That's why I figured it was best to let him go."

When you hear your voice turn weak, you stop, mind sending endless comments of disapproval into your thoughts. You flinch when you have a napkin offered out to you, but you take it when you see Sans nod, still waiting for you. He then pulls back quickly, still avoiding your touch. "So, what I'm gettin' at here's that you feel just as responsible as Frisk did over what happened that day," he says, voice low and tone solemn. "Or at least, that's what it looks like."

Sans stops and looks behind you. The same waiter from before appears next to you and places your dessert first and later his; once more, you thank him and wait until he leaves the table. When he's gone, your companion speaks up again, setting the plate aside to focus on you more. "Don't wanna assume things right off the bat, but…" He takes a pause, picks up a fork, and pierces it through the pastry. Then, he faces you, continuing with, "You kinda feel like you've gotta make up for that? Limiting yourself that much ain't really the best option there is, though."

You hum, face away, and pick up a portion off your dessert to distract yourself from him. "I just don't trust myself enough to make the right decision again." You take the first bite; the sweet's flavour helps you with the situation. 

The harmony of cutlery clicking and outside chatter blend into the background as your conversation with him carries on. While you listen, you take another bite off your dessert to make matters less tense. "Y'know, if this helps, most of us think you did a good job raising the kid." He stops again and brings the cup closer to him. "If you look at it this way, you helped with lettin' 'em make their own choices and decide how to approach monsters back then. In a sense, we're all connected one way or the other -- kinda like how you start off as their teacher, and then take them to an actual school where they'll continue to grow as a person." He sways the drink around and looks down at it for a moment. "And even if it's possible for a kid their age to start shapin' their own mindset and decide what's good, what's alright, and what's not, most of it's still based off what they've been taught so far. They're not fully in control of who they are yet, and that's why it's often a huge responsibility to take -- parenting, teaching, and all that."

He stops again to take a swing from his drink. The view of his skull contorting to allow him a sip was one surprising to watch the first time you saw him and Papyrus eating some of Toriel's vegetable stew the day of the blackout, and even more intriguing the time you invited him over for a meal after finishing with your errands at the school supply. Now that you're seeing it for a third time though, you focus far too much on it, yet you try to brush it off and pay more attention to him. There's plenty of questions present in regard to how monsters worked the way they did -- each different in their own way, given how many types there are -- but you're not quite sure if it would be proper to bring them out so suddenly right now.

"Basically," he continues, setting the drink down. "When you're at that young of an age, you don't have a full understanding of who you are, and that's why it's so important for lil' kids to have good, or at least decent examples for them to follow." He faces you. How direct his gaze feels makes you look away, feeling embarrassment burn your face. "And so pretty much based on how Frisk acted during their time at the Underground, I can tell they've been raised well." His gaze drifts off behind you again, though there's a different look to it this time. In contrast to the one he'd given earlier to acknowledge the waiter's arrival, there's caution present in his irises. "What I'm sayin' here is: you're a good parent. And if you feel like you have to restrain yourself from livin' life, you really shouldn't. You're-"

"Hey, Kevin," a man says, voice coming from behind you. "What did the skeleton say to the hog?" 

The strangeness behind his gaze makes more sense now; the voice that sounds from behind you's far too annoying for it not to belong to trouble.

You hear laughter and another voice reply with, "I don't know, Brayan. What?"

Brayan fakes a swoon and attempts to mimic what you can only assume is Sans's voice, saying, "Oh, you're the exact opposite of me -- all fat and no bones. What a catch!"

More laughter.

"Wait, wait," Kevin says, voice now heard from closer by. "I've- I've gotta good follow-up to that one." Even more obnoxious laughter's heard from him, and a not-so adorable snort comes from Brayan. "I might be fat, but you're the real pig here -- liking me only because of those weird tastes of yours!"

"What's bothering you, mi chicharrón*? You're my type. I'm only saying the truth!

"And I'm done with you, you bonehead!"

One of the two men emerge next to Sans and attempts to push him off his chair to follow-up to their impromptu play, with enough flamboyance and sass to make Shakespeare proud.

You step in, grabbing by the arm who you assume's Kevin and keeping him from finishing his joke. He freezes, though he soon recovers, a grin replacing his surprise. "Hey look, Brayan," he calls out. "Piggy's all angry now!"

Done too quick for you to react, you feel something cold pour over your chest and look to your left to see Brayan with a grin on his face and with an empty glass left on his hand. "Cool off," he says, laughing. 

Before you can process it, something trips his feet and sends his donkey to the ground. 

Both your drink and the skeleton's end up thrown on him as a familiar blue aura surrounds both of the glasses. 

"Wh- What the hell, man?" he shouts, flustered. "Who did that?!"

The human owner of the establishment appears right behind him and brings him into an arm lock. She's just as formally dressed as the bear waiter; a long red dress matches with her lipstick and does the opposite with her light skin and bright ginger hair. The name ‘Jessica’ is spelled neatly on her name tag. "Sounds to me like you're the one who needs to cool off first," she says, pulling him to his feet. Her teeth are clenched and a frown shapes her mouth. "Tell your friend he needs to follow me if he doesn't want the same treatment." She drags both men along with her, leaving you alone with Sans -- plus an audience too big for your liking. 

The brown bear makes his appearance again. A mess of apologies exit his mouth as he rushes over with two new drinks and a towel hung over his shoulder. Sans helps him by taking the latter and approaching your side.

"You okay?" he asks. Carefully, he sets the towel over you, hands moving stiff and awkward when he tries to wrap it around your torso. You bite back a smile at that, his current reticence helping you forget about Brayan and Kevin's actions. Even with how daring he was while flirting, he was inevitably trying his best not to cross unwanted lines with you. "Was it hot?"

Stop.

That word repeats itself over and over in your mind as you use the towel to pull him closer to you, his hands still holding onto it. You take them, let him hold onto your waist, and allow your smile to shine through, heart pounding all the while. "No," you reply, grinning. "But you worrying about me kinda is." You kiss his cheekbone, murmuring a 'thank you, Sans' close to his ear cavity.

The crowd goes wild, whistles and woots being let out as you keep your lips there for a moment, right until you feel his skull turn hot to the touch. When you pull back, his irises are wide, jumpy, and bright, these trying their best to look away from you. He lets go of the towel, steps back, and sits down on his chair while the crowd settles out.

"Uh..." he mutters, short of breath. "No problem, (Y/N)."

Chapter Text

"This is actually our first date, but we're getting there."

His soul almost stops at that sentence, yet he tries not to let it show. Based on how charmed (Y/N) was around monsters who weren't heavily involved with the intentions of the Royal Guard, Sans assumes they're lying for the sake of not letting Roger down. He observes and listens to their exchange by the side, only intervening when he's escorted with them into the shop.

Before arriving at the counter, he brings up that sentence and the meaning behind it. He has some confidence as to what their reply will be, but when they actually speak up, it only complicates his thoughts and the pace of his soul more. "I'm not sure what to think of this myself, but… In the end, I only did it 'cause I couldn't bring myself to get his hopes down."

He'd hit the nail in the head.

But what was the reason behind their doubts?

Did they feel forced to go out with him, simply for having gotten to know Frisk during their journey?

It didn't feel that way, yet he didn't exactly know them well enough to be one-hundred percent sure of those assumptions. For all he knew, they could be pretending and trying to get along with him just for the sake of Frisk's happiness and the rest of their monster friends. It wasn't safe to cross out that possibility yet.

A bunnywoman greets him and he words out his orders, saying theirs, then his, and finally Frisk's to-go. He can see the human's wallet already in hand, though they hold it back when he's directed with them to a table, no upfront payment needed. "But even if this was a date, I still don't think I'd be able to accept having another one after today's," they add, sitting down and facing their lap.

At that, his curiosity rises, and he can't help asking them for a little more detail. "What do you mean?"

They fidget before answering. "I need to focus more on raising Frisk before going anywhere with my love life."

"Why?" The monster wants to disappear with how abrupt, rude, and plain nosy that question comes out. Knowing he's already screwed up and not wanting to ruin things further by making them angry, he hurries to elaborate his question better, saying, "So you haven't dated anyone ever since that day?" He breathes out as subtly as possible, relieved to see them nod. 

A brown bear appears, referring to himself as the waiter in charge of the table for today. He's in formal wear, something the human seems to be charmed by; it's an undoubtedly similar look to when they didn't want to disappoint the rabbit. They continue when the bear leaves, words once more catching the skeleton off guard. "I haven't, and to be honest I'd…" They keep quiet for a while, making his doubts return. He's worried he's asking questions far too personal for them to be in any way comfortable with him, but they don't stop with their answers. "I'd like to keep it that way for as long as it's needed. I need to be there for Frisk, and I need to be more careful of who I date from now on." They sound more at ease the further they talk, helping calm some of his own tension down. "You see, I… I really don't want Frisk to grow up in an environment full of constant fights and disagreements." 

That seems to be the final drop in the bucket for them to expose their heart out to him. Words practically flow out of their mouth as they continue to explain the reasons behind their self-imposed limitations. They tell him of Jerry and their relationship with him post-divorce, of those six years without dating anyone, and over the responsibility they felt was on their shoulders ever since Jerry stopped acting as a father for Frisk. He's irked with everything they say -- especially the last part -- but again, he tries not to let his emotions show too much, wanting to listen to them instead. 

As they speak, Sans wonders whether it's okay to continue being all chill and buddy-buddy with Jerry, now knowing him in a different light. The guy was fun to be around with, and he was truthfully the one who'd given him a push to make a move on them, but he couldn't bring himself to meet up with him again without wanting to use the same sense of judgment he specialized in at the Underground. He was strict and stern when it came to the consequences of others' actions just as he was when it came to judging himself for his own choices in both past and present times.

If Jerry was well-aware he wasn't ready to be a father, then why did he still agree on (having/adopting) a child?

Had it been an unforeseen result, or was there more to it?

A piece of information slips by, though they doesn't seem to catch onto it. After the words 'I let him go', follow: "I, well… I was over the moon when he said we could be parents, and I didn't really think about his real feelings about the situation the second he said we could give it a try, so it's… It's primarily my fault all of this happened, either way. I- I should've paid more attention and discussed the situation with him more properly." A bitter smile shows on their face. "Children aren't pets, and even pets aren't that easy of a responsibility, either. I… I should've stopped to think about that choice some more before immediately assuming we were both ready, once he... once he brought up the possibility of us being parents."

Based on how little they react after that confession, it's plain evident they haven't noticed they've let that information slip past, so he chooses not to bring it up. To make up for it, Sans intervenes when he notices they're too caught up in wanting to make things right all in one day. He steps in with his own view on the subject so far, saying, "Don't wanna assume things right off the bat, but…" He pauses, picking up a fork and piercing it through his dish. Then, he faces them, continuing with, "You kinda feel like you've gotta make up for that? Limiting yourself that much ain't really the best option, though."

They face away and pick up a portion of their dessert along the way. With how calm they look right now, he wonders how they would react had he chosen to bring up the fact they'd just confessed something far too personal in the midst of them being honest with him. "I just don't trust myself enough to make the right decision again." They take a bite.

Sans tries to look away from their lips, not wanting to make himself come off as an indecent person by staring there for too long. While they were dressed far more strikingly and looked far more cheerful compared to previous times, that's no excuse for him to stare, and even less at their face. They were here wearing their heart out on their sleeve for him. Taking advantage of that with any sort of flirting or advancements simply didn't feel right presently.

He offers his point-of-view, only to be interrupted by what he fears is trouble lurking right behind the human's back. There's two human men standing close by, pointing at their waist and muttering comments about how 'chunky' they are and how small the off-brand 'Grim Reaper on vacation prop' sitting with them is. He waits and keeps an eye socket out for the two as he continues, only to be interrupted by a loud comment from one of the pair not long after.

"Hey, Kevin," the burliest one of the two says, voice irritatingly loud. "What did the skeleton say to the hog?" 

Laughter follows and the lankier one replies with, "I don't know, Brayan. What?"

Brayan fakes a swoon and attempts to mimic what Sans can only interpret as his own voice with how exaggeratedly rough and Batman-with-a-cold deep it sounds, saying, "Oh, you're the exact opposite of me -- all fat and no bones. What a catch!"

More laughter.

"Wait, wait," Kevin says, voice now heard from closer by. "I've- I've gotta good follow-up to that one." Brayan snorts at that -- obnoxiously rather than cutely. "I might be fat, but you're the real pig here -- liking me only because of those weird tastes of yours!"

"What's bothering you, mi chicharrón? You're my type. I'm only saying the truth!

"And I'm done with you, you bonehead!"

Just as the skeleton expects to be pushed off his chair, his company intervenes by standing up and approaching the man about to send him to the ground. Their stance is firm and their gaze is pissed, the light in their eyes far different from when they snapped at his own flirting. They grab the man by the arm, but it doesn't take much for him to retaliate and seek out help from his partner-in-crime. Far-too soon, a splash is heard and the skeleton sees the human's shirt drenched, an empty glass being held by one of the two men still standing nearby. 

Now his turn to act, Sans takes advantage of free Karma and tosses both his drink and theirs at the man responsible for throwing one at them. The rest is a blur as he pays more attention to them and their condition. Only the comments Kevin and Brayan made about them and the drink thrown at them stay in his mind, occupying the rest of his thoughts. He takes a towel and wraps it around their torso, being extra cautious not to brush his hands anywhere improper, something better said than done with his current situation. They're soaked from neck to waist, the subtle warmth emerging from their body making him further concerned by assuming the drink was still fresh. 

"Was it hot?"

With that question, he receives yet another surprise, both in words and the bold look they give him along with it. "No," he hears them say, grinning bright and wide as a subtle, flirty curve shows on their smile. "But you worrying about me kinda is."

His soul lurches at the feeling of their lips on his cheekbone. It's a sensation far too soft for him to have ever been prepared for it, and it's made a lot more intense when they drag the kiss all the way to his ear cavity, lips brushing against his face as they whisper him a 'thank you'. His hands are firm on their waist as the crowd cheers on. It's only when he backs away and lets go of the towel that he can escape from the situation, plopping back down on his chair to recover from it. 

With the remnants of the earlier incident, it’s a different experience giving the human a ride to his home. The skeleton's now overly alert of everything around him, from their hands around his waist to the rumbling of other engines near him. Thankfully, a cloudy sky, strong winds, and a light drizzle aid as a distraction. He dodges busy streets by taking detours wherever possible, and he focuses on one thing only: getting there before the rain pours any harder. While the helmet shields most of it away, the roar of the clouds above alerts him and seemingly the one holding onto him, based on how they press closer and ask if he’s okay.

“Wouldn’t it be better to stop?” they suggest, voice muffled from too many things at once. There’s the rain picking up, other vehicles zooming past, and the warning of future thunder from the clouds. Add in the helmets, and it’s a necessity for him to take a turn and park by the emergency lane.

The stillness of his surroundings helps provide a better look at the options nearby. Four were available, the last of them the most risky. It was either turn left and stop at a gas station, turn right and stop at an inn, go back and stop at the nearest shopping district available, or continue forward without any proper sense of direction. 

Just as he’s imagining there’s no way they could be any bolder than they had been with their kiss, they say, “Let’s stop by the inn.” Their smile quells any hidden meanings. Their tone, on the other hand, has plenty left to be said. “It’s the closest option there is, and judging by the situation up there, it’s the best one, too.”

Right.

He scolds himself mentally for letting his imagination run too far.

Of course, it was his fear of thunder they were referring to!

What else could it have been?

“Alright,” he says, giving in with a huff. “You sure you’re okay with that?”

“Yeah,” they reply, shrugging. “It's getting darker, and the weather’s not too good. I’ll just call Undyne and let her know we'll be returning a little later than expected."

The monster finally grins at that and props the motorcycle back into shape. “You’re being awfully chill about this whole thing, pal.” He jolts when their hands find their place around him once more, settled down when he hears them laugh, airiness present in their tone. They rest their head closer to his shoulder, helmet bumping with his. “Gettin’ real comfy around me, too.”

They pull back, a frown heard in their question, “Would you like me to stop?”

He shakes his head, bringing them closer at a red light. “Not at all.”

Their laughter sounds again, more cheerful and light. Had he no context of where they'd been before the ride, he would’ve assumed they'd taken a drink too many. To see them relax and play along was about as rare as a day not passing by without the sudden awfulness of the weather. It’s been worsening, yet he can’t quite determine why exactly. There were plenty of factors contributing to it, one of the most common being the current season, and the most uncommon somehow related to the accusations monsters received about the bad weather being all their fault.

Flashing, neon lights greet the skeleton when he parks close to the inn, right below a tent made specifically for keeping customers' vehicles out of the bad weather. ‘Open 24/7. Vacant. Family Friendly. Monster Friendly. Absolutely NO pest problem. Suspicious wall stains are actually retro wallpaper patterns, not blood,' and a bunch more other things blare at him in bright lettering. There’s tiny wording at the bottom of the word ‘Inn’, reading: ‘formerly a criminal hideout’, in parentheses.

Sans expects all but more stifled laughter from (Y/N)’s mouth. When he looks towards them, he sees they've already taken their helmet off, revealing teary eyes and a smile. “What's next?” they ask, giggling. “Bet now the hotel guy'll say: ‘Sorry, we’ve only got one room left’.” They take him by the arm and lead him in as soon as the rain pours completely, their laughter drowning out as thunder clashes from nearby. “C’mon,” they call out, tugging him in. “You’ll get sick!” The door jingles as he passes through with them by his side, revealing a lobby far more decent than the outside suggests. “See that? It’s gonna be fine!"

He doesn't say anything and instead lets himself be tugged along. If he'd annoyed them too much with his flirting and this was the world's way of punishing him for it, he accepted it despite what that was doing to his soul. He accompanies them to the registration counter, where an even worse problem waits.

"Welcome!" Mettaton calls out, greeting both him and the human next to him with a smile. Funky music plays on the radio, matching almost eerily with his gaze and the purpose behind his smile. "Room for two, I assume?" He takes out a log book, and a calculative frown shows on his face as he taps his chin with the pen, a smile returning when he looks up. "...Either way, I'm afraid that's all we have right now."

His companion snorts (cutely, in comparison to Brayan), though they cover it up when he tries to get a better look at them, seeing a smile still on. "Told you so," they say, jabbing his waist. They then turn over to the robot, seriousness falling on their face. "We'd like to book it for a night, please."

Chapter Text

As the storm worsens, so does he. He's shaking from head to toe, yet when you ask him about it, he says it's fine. An hour's passed since you booked the room, and all the banter and light-hearted nature from before has faded since then. Thunder continues to strike without a break, sending electrical appliances nearby into an on and off frenzy. You look towards the skeleton sitting farther away from you and notice how his grip on a pillow strengthens, his fear being let out through it. 

The view makes you think back on last time and how you'd dealt with the situation, leaving you to consider it again.

You sit next to him in bed and stretch your arms out when he looks at you. It's as if he's stumbled upon an alien, gaze facing yours with both caution and confusion alike. "C'mere, Serif," you offer, patting at your lap. "Take it as a thank you for everything you've done so far." You scoot closer to him and stop when you see him tense up and a bead of sweat make its way down his forehead. "I mean it."

Sans doesn't have a choice with how violent the next thunder is. He's practically sent into your lap as the lights go out, and his grip on you turns almost painful, the hardness of his touch sinking into your skin. The monster's face ends up pressed close to your chest while his hands move back down to your waist; his shaking grows prominent, even with how strong he holds onto you. Minutes pass before the lights turn back on, allegedly due to a power plant with how much weaker they glow. A murmur leaves his teeth, though none of the words can be deciphered with how wild the weather outside is. "What did you say?" you ask, bringing him closer. "I couldn't hear you." You shift your positions so that you can lay your head against the headboard and cuddle up to him more. 

His chest heaves subtly as another one strikes. "Why're you doin' this for me?" He breathes out, loosening his grip on you. "I, uh… thought you didn't feel comfortable around me."

"Are you sure you're okay to talk about that right now?" you ask, bringing an arm around his waist. "You're shaking, Sans. And I already know why, so it's... It's really no big deal." You stop to look at him through the dresser's mirror set right across from the bed, yet his face is still kept hidden from your view. "We can leave that for later, if you want."

You expect disagreement, only to receive it partially.

Sans moves away from your hold and sits up straight in bed while you stay laying down. Then, he tries to spare a glance at you, though your current positions make it awkward for you to face him back without feeling strange about it. He seems to notice that himself, having to look elsewhere to lessen that feeling as you both adjust yourselves to a better, more comfortable position. "So, uh… Thanks," he says, facing away. "But you don't need to do that. If you feel like all this stuff is your responsibility, then I don't think it's okay for me to approach you like this." He flinches when another thunder strikes, yet he recovers quicker than before. "You don't have to force yourself into makin' this a date, 'cause I'm not asking that of you."

You sit up and move right behind him, holding his shoulders. "And I'm not trying to make this a date, Sans," you reply. "I'm just trying to help you with what's happening right now." You hold his waist, tensing when you feel him shudder under your touch. "Though I won't deny that I, well…" Your throat turns dry and your face grows hot, hands doing the opposite. "That it's been too long since I've felt this way." Your eyes close with the next thunder, how loud it is making even you seek some comfort from the embrace. "It feels nice to be liked, and to… to actually live life a little more. Today, I… felt so alive. Even with those guys calling me names, I had fun."

With the latest strike appearing to have been the last, Sans again shimmies out of your hold and turns to you. He meets with your gaze and a hand places itself over yours. Then, he shifts closer to you, his hand tugging for you to go lower while he goes higher.

He closes his eye sockets as his teeth brush with your cheek. Lack of experience over such a simple action reveals itself in an instant by how awkward his hand placement is on your shoulder and waist as he tries to match better with your height, and how fast his soul beats the longer he stays that way. The moment ends far too quickly, yet it's sufficient for you to be fulfilled, just as much as he appears to be when you pull back, open your eyes, and see him grinning. A brighter light's present in his irises, and -- judging by how he looks at you -- you can already tell you've given him more than enough of a reason to tease you over this in the future. "So... I take it the first date was a success?"

You return his expression with a smile and let his hand go while you fix your posture. "I thought you said you didn't want to make this a date?"

He winks and takes a hand to your cheek, fingers brushing close to your lips, but not quite. There's an unfamiliar emotion beyond that of lust or want in his gaze, and it makes more sense when you think back on what he said at the hospital regarding how he felt about physical touch, aside from all the basics established by societal norms. Rather than lust, curiosity shines in his irises, likely by how different you both are and how it would feel for the both of you to kiss on the mouth. "Only if you want it to be." A brief pause follows and a subtle, amused flare leaves his nose cavity. "How about it?"

Smile growing, you take his wrist and reply with, "I'd like that." Then, a frown returns, concern showing through the furrow in your brow. "But… What about after? I… I really don't think I'm ready to date anyone seriously yet."

The monster pulls his hand back and faces your eyes again. "That's alright," he says, chuckling. "We'll just keep doin' things like normal, pretendin' today didn't happen." Sans shifts on his seat as a sterner look crosses his gaze. "We'll give each other some time. And if ya don't return my feelings by then, I'll stop -- And we can keep the memories we've made 'til now."

"Now that..." Tugging him in for a quick hug, you then laugh, kiss his cheekbone, and pull back with a smile still intact on your face. "That sounds way too good to be true. But I like it."

It's close to midnight by the time you're done eating, showering, and settling stuff out with Undyne. You take your phone and re-read your latest conversation with her. Embarrassment overcomes your thoughts with the reminder of how both she and her girlfriend had caught you and Sans last time on the couch.

Told you it was a date!

Papyrus actually looked after Frisk most of the time today, so I can look after them 'til tomorrow morning. 

But is it really okay with you?

'Course it is!

Didn't I tell you to take as long as you need?

Take your time. ;-)

Thank you.

But could you please keep the whole date thing a secret?

I don't want Frisk to know I'm thinking about dating anyone else again.

Sure.

Dunno why you insist so much on that, but I get it.

A new message pops up. While reading, you open the door of your room and exit, ready to go off and explore more of the hotel. Though it's late, you don't want to miss out on the opportunity of extending the date for a little longer, even more now that the skeleton invited you over to the pool area. You can hear water running even as you close the door and begin walking off, reminding you he's still showering. 

Jerry came over asking where you were, btw.

The latest message Undyne sends you prompts you to keep going, now too anxious to wait and stay in one place. You rush off, not wanting to dwell too much on it. It's a short walk to get there, only having to pass by a hallway, then the lobby, and take a turn to the right. A different world's introduced to you as soon as you step in, welcomed by a large swimming pool from afar and at the center of it all, along with two smaller hot tubs closer by. There are folding chairs and their respective tables on the left, along with a busy and bustling bar at the right, ‘Happy Hour’ flashing above the entrance. All the attractions are occupied with people, each doing their own thing.

Really?

What did you tell him?

Your chest tightens as you wait for an answer. An icy wind blows by, making you shudder with the current outfit you're wearing: a one-piece swimsuit bought hastily at the small souvenir shop the hotel offered for everyone around. You stay in place, still waiting for her reply.

Told him you were running errands, but he still told me to give you this when you returned.

Her next message is a picture of a gift basket with all sorts of favourites, from sweets to flowers, and even a new work uniform, each individual piece of the correct size. A letter's tucked in-between all the items and a bright red ribbon tops it all off.

He also gave Frisk something and then tried convincing them into going with him to the beach. 

Your stomach twists and a sour note reaches your taste buds. Jerry's first attempt at getting back together had clearly been without him knowing Sans was hitting on you, so you're not sure whether he's making stronger efforts now that he's aware of it. Your legs grow weak the more you force yourself to keep on standing, now too anxious to move.

What did Frisk say?

They said they'd only go if you came with them, so now I think Jerry might make arrangements for the two of you to come.

"Your phone's gonna get damaged here."

At the sound of someone behind you, you jolt and your phone slips off your hands. Fortunately, it's stopped by a blue force, and so's your waist when you slip and almost trip on your feet. You're let go and turned around to see Sans changed into an outfit composed of beach shorts and a tank top. They're a little baggy on the sides, revealing the fact he's also bought them at the souvenir shop.

"You okay?" he asks, furrowing his gaze.

You grab your phone back and put it away, nodding before replying with, "...I think so."

Side-by-side, you walk with him to a pair of folding chairs. There, you sit, take off your towel, and set it aside. "Jerry's still, well... trying to get back with me, I guess." A smile forms when you see the monster's gaze look away, avoiding to meet with your swimsuit more than with your eyes or anywhere else. "You can look, y'know. Or are you getting shy?"

Sans takes the towel off his shoulders and sets it next to yours. Then, he shakes his head once, still avoiding you. "Just bein' cautious." Finally, he faces you, a grin showing on his skull. "Still haven't forgotten how stern you can be, so I've gotten used to bein' careful around you."

"Really?" you taunt, snickering. You stand up and begin your walk with him to the pool. "I was thinking the opposite with how shameless your flirting's been since day one of us being more than strangers."

"There's a difference, pal." He sits on the edge, irises drifting off to the hot tubs, where a buff bunnyman and an even buffer fishman sit at. They're both hugging each other, the former resting his head on the other's chest, eyes closed shut and body relaxed. "My intention's not to insult you or make you angry."

Your smile grows; the upbeat energy of your surroundings gives you courage to challenge him again. "What are your intentions then, Sans? I'm curious."

You slip a foot into the water and a shiver follows. While you stand by for it to warm, you pay attention to the monster, expectant of an answer. Oddly enough, he doesn't confront your question and chooses to sink himself completely into the pool -- no wait needed. His irises avoid your eyes, until a few swimmers nearby move further away from your spot. "I guess I've never really done somethin' like this before. And then my brother suggested I made some new friends, so when I saw you, I kinda just went for it."

"So flirting's your way of making friends?"

Again, you're welcomed with a reaction far different from your expectations. He looks down at the water and rubs the back of his neck, a laugh -- nervous and quiet -- leaving his teeth. "...The way you confronted me back when we were at Waterfall," he begins, facing you, "it kinda took me off guard, so I went with the first thing I had in mind to try and ease out the mood." 

A human toddler dives into the water, the splash that accompanies him almost reaching you despite his tiny self. That's enough to distract you and smile, though you look back to witness the skeleton's done the same thing. It's without a doubt he's trying not to confess his thoughts right now, so you give him space to back off if he wants to. "I…" He looks back to you, continuing with, "I was surprised to see you come up to me like that, pointing out faults I was aware we had, all without hesitation -- both back then and on the day we first met. So I guess you could call that me fallin' for you at first sight. You called me out on my mistakes after Jerry told you the truth about me, and you accepted yours without me even havin' the chance to say anything about it. You came over apologizin' for lettin' Frisk slip from your care, but then you also didn't exactly tolerate our own choices when you found out the, well... morally ambiguous implications behind my kinds' freedom."

You dip the rest of your body in the water and sit beside him. "So you fell for me at first sight?" you joke, nudging him. "I find that real hard to believe."

He chuckles and leans in closer. "Guess it was kinda more of an admiration I had for ya, at the beginning."

You do the same, sparing a glance at others nearby to make sure they aren't looking. "...I also recall you saying my stubbornness was hot?"

He nods, giving into another cheek kiss from your part this time -- one far more fleeting than the one shared at your bedroom. "Very."

The two of you back away as quickly as that moment lasts, avoiding PDA at all costs -- not only for the younger ones around, but for the current state of your relationship, and what that implies. You'd already crossed plenty of the lines and limits you'd set for yourself in terms of dating. Even the simple act of having accepted his invitation is enough to surpass them all. "I'm… I'm sorry I can't make this a serious thing," you say, looking aside. "Maybe you said it was okay to have only one date, but I... I guess it doesn't exactly feel right for me to lead you on like this."

The monster pulls you against him, giving you a hug from behind. "See what I mean, pal?" He's the one teasing you now, hands tickling your waist with how careful his movements are. "You're doin' it again."

To defend yourself, you take Sans's hands, push him away, and bring him down into the water, concluding the feat with a laugh. 

Proud, you turn around -- expecting to see him drenched and unamused -- yet what you receive is prompt payback for your actions. His magic grabs your wrist, pulling you in with him. You close your eyes tight in defense, and the sensation of slow sinking is soon interrupted by you bumping right into him. 

He helps you stay afloat, though you're unable to see him, water drops clouding your vision.

"Karma," he reminds you, chuckling as you both make it safe out of the pool.

Chapter Text

Sun pours through windows with half-open curtains, waking you up.

The emptiness of a bed too large for one person hits you and prompts you to feel around with half-lidded eyes, still too groggy to assess the state of your surroundings. You search for your glasses by the nightstand, pick them up, and slip them on, clearer vision helping you with your tired gaze. Then, you stand up and stretch, allowing yourself some time before you adjust to the changes. Faint snores from a corner of the room make your head snap towards the noise. There, you see Sans draped over a couch, with a beach towel taken as a makeshift blanket. Even with the uncomfortable posture he seems to hold and the general hardness of the couch, he's out like a light, chest rising and falling in a consistent, slow motion.

If you remembered correctly, you'd made space for him in bed, too used to sharing your bed with Frisk, Aunt Brenda, other family members, and close friends for you to feel even remotely awkward about sleeping with someone in the same space. Sharing it with family was a common thing whenever large, holiday gatherings took place, whereas Frisk climbed in whenever they had a bad dream, and friends stayed when they had nowhere else to go. Having someone beside you wasn't uncommon; if they needed somewhere to stay, you would provide them with it, yet you'd forgotten to ask Sans last night if he felt the same way about that. Him sleeping on the couch reveals he doesn't.

You approach his side as quietly as you can manage and bring your arms around his waist, lifting him up. He proves to be lighter than expected as you carry him off to bed, set him there, and drag the sheets over him. As inopportune as it is, you're soon reminded of yesterday and the whole dating situation you'd both discussed when you stare at his face for a little too long.

'What happened to you yesterday?', 'Were you drunk?', and 'Why did you kiss him more than once?' are just a few of the many questions you could (judgingly) ask yourself in front of the bathroom mirror.

Sure, you'd only ever dated one other person before you settled down with Jerry, only to end up as a single parent and then have little to no interaction with him or anybody else for the next seven years, but that couldn't've been enough to have brought the impulse for you to date a stranger… Right?

You weren't desperate!

As you continue chastising your reflection in the bathroom mirror, you hear a knock on the door, halting your judgement. 

"You there?"

You want to disappear, and maybe time travel to change things up a bit.

"Uhhh," you say, words about as flowing as a carefully recited poem. "...Yeah."

"...You doing okay?"

"I think so."

Such a blissful moment had to have its consequences. Maybe then you were too happy to care, but now that you consider the fact you'd kissed him more than once -- even if it wasn't on the lips -- and stayed a night all alone with him at a shady hotel makes this an experience you would rather forget. "Did you think I left without you?" you ask, stepping into the shower. You don't undress yet, anticipating an answer.

"I might've," he replies, chuckling. "Yesterday was really somethin' else."

"That's an understatement."

You take off your clothes, turn on the shower, and stand under it for a while. Your attention goes to the lowermost part of your abdomen, where you can see a bit of pudginess at the sides -- or 'love handles', as the skeleton called it. The steam makes your glasses fog up before you can stare and think about that for much longer. "...Did I really wear a swimsuit yesterday?" you ask, in denial. You slip them off and place them nearby.

Sans's voice turns faint with the sound of the water running, yet you can still hear when he replies with, "A one-piece, yeah. It, uh, looked good on you, though."

The conversation ends as you huff and continue showering. While you do, distant sounds of someone else present in the room bring back memories from when you used to live with more than one other person aside from Frisk. It's strange to hear noises outside your own and theirs.

You finish up with that thought still on your mind, lingering until you turn the water off; you then proceed by taking a towel and covering yourself with it. Approaching a basket with yesterday's clothes now clean and dry is the next thing to play with your memories and customs, again used to being a family of two after seven whole years carrying on with the same routine. Still, you dismiss those thoughts and remind yourself it's no time to be daydreaming.

You barely knew the person you're sharing a room with, and the history behind him and all the other monsters you knew was still something you couldn't let go. Even if you'd been the one to end up Underground, you couldn't imagine yourself sacrificing your own life -- not because you didn't want to save them, but mainly for those you had to look after. If you'd chosen to give up your soul for the sake of an entire race, then what would've become of Frisk's future? And if you'd fallen in place of Frisk, who was to say you would've been capable of finding an alternative like they had? The reminder they managed to come out alive while also fulfilling that goal makes you wonder if life's even possible to do without hurting others in the process. Then again, emotions can be messy; the mind itself is a whole complicated thing on its own.

If one gains, someone else loses. You can't live life without affecting someone else's, and aiming to please everyone is like trying to make water less wet. To be happy and choose a better path, sacrifices have to be made, and being wholly good and giving isn't as easy as it seems when you have difficulties to face day after day.

"Did you enjoy your stay?"

Your existential crisis ends at the sound of Mettaton's voice coming from outside the bathroom. You grab your clothes, slip them on, and take a step away from the door, still able to listen in on the conversation with how thin the walls are. You wear everything except your old shirt, this one still stained even after having thrown it to wash in the hotel's laundromat. To replace it, there's a plain and baggy, white t-shirt at your disposal -- not quite matching with the rest of your outfit, but sufficient to make do while you made it back home.

"It was nice," Sans replies, words cut short. His tone reveals he's far from wanting to have a talk with the robot, but the latter persists. 

""I'm surprised you hit it off so quick," Mettaton says, chuckling. "It hasn't been a year since we left the Underground, and yet you already have a date! You're honestly the person I least expected this from." 

The conversation's muffled out as Sans talks quieter. Mettaton, on the other hand, doesn't catch on. "What do you mean you two aren't dating? I saw you kiss!"

The skeleton continues to keep his tone at a low level, yet -- once more -- the robot fails to follow up with him. "But that's boring!" You can almost hear him pout. His voice sounds more annoyed than you could possibly imagine anyone to feel about a topic like this one. "And here I thought I'd caught something worth teasing you for! Talk about disappointing."

You wait until the two stop talking to exit the bathroom, Mettaton already gone by the time you step out. Sans sits by the edge of the bed and stands up when he sees you arrive. Awkward silence stays as you both look at each other for a moment, broken when you ask, "So, you told him?"

Sans nods and picks up his towel when you signal for him to use the bathroom. "I did," he says, walking off. He then waits beside the door, continuing with, "He's not too good at keeping stuff secret, but he promised not to talk about it in front of Frisk." The door opens and the leftover steam contrasts with the cold of the bedroom. The latter wins instantly, air conditioner on. You observe him as he steps in, looking about as tense as you feel right now. "Your phone was ringin' while you were showerin', by the way." With that, he closes the door, leaving you to check in on what he'd said. 

With steam no longer an obstacle, you slip your glasses back on, approach the dresser, and pick up your phone; your house number is the only missed call.

The person on the other line responds lightning fast, hardly giving it a chance to ring more than once.

"...Are you okay?" Frisk's voice asks, words rushed. The phone wavers in your hold. They sound too frightened for someone who'd adventured alone at the Underground, yet what they say next brings you back into calm, "There was a bad storm yesterday, so I got worried." They stop and sniffle before they continue on. "Undyne said you were okay, a- and that you stayed at Sans's place, but… But I still missed you." You can hear them breathe in and then out, huffing after. "And then Jerry came around as soon as the storm calmed down, but when we said you weren't home, he talked about how you were being irresponsible again. But then he left a gift for you, and now I'm confused. Does that mean he still likes you?"

"One thing at a time, honey," you intervene, laughing when you notice Frisk plans to keep on rambling. "I'm fine, and I'm still at his place." You let out a sigh and bring a hand to your forehead, rubbing your temples before keeping up with their rant. "And I'm not sure what Jerry's thinking, but this isn't really the time for us to be talking about that right now." Your eyes wander over to the alarm clock set by the nightstand, eight thirty in the morning flashing on the screen. "More importantly, did you have breakfast? I should be back home in an hour."

"I did! Undyne watched over me while I made something."

"That scared of her cooking?"

"She burned her house last time!"

You sit down on the couch once setting the pillows aside. Your cheeks hurt from smiling and the awkwardness of your situation feels less daunting the more you talk with Frisk. "What did you make?" you ask, propping a leg over the other. You lay back and close your eyes, achieving comfort.

"I made pancakes! I'll cook some for you when you get here."

At the sound of the bathroom door opening, you open your eyes, look there, and carry on with your conversation when you see the monster hasn't made it out yet. "Thank you, dear. Did you teach her while she looked over you, by any chance?" Your posture on the couch straightens as soon as Sans step out, tension returning.

"I did," they reply, giggling. "She said she's gonna make some for Alphys next time they have a sleepover together."

With a few more questions and answers, the conversation reaches an end.

You say your farewells and hang the call, standing up when you realize Sans has disappeared. You then look around from corner to corner and reach the bathroom when you notice he's nowhere to be seen. The door's left open, though right as you're about to delve any further inside, you see someone emerge from behind the shower curtains. Your eyes close on instinct, and you turn around -- ready to apologize -- up until you hear him chuckle. "You can look. I'm just washing somethin'," he says. When you look at him, he hands you your shirt, now a bit dampened. The stain's fainter than when you took it to the wash, revealing the monster's whereabouts. "I tried cleanin' it off with some soap n' shampoo, but it didn't really work."

When you take it back, only one question rests in your mind, and that's, "Was this unintentional, or are you trying to gain another date?" You bite back a smile, in wait for his reaction.

You fail in an instant, allowing him to grin and reply with, "Whatever you want it to be." He winks. "Either way, I think I still owe ya dinner at my place."  

You walk with him out of the bathroom and step into the cold. The reminder you have to be back in an hour falls on you, urging you to check the time and search through your pockets for your wallet. From there, you pull out an envelope and hand it to him. "I have to go now, but here's this." Again, you shuffle through your wallet's contents, retrieving a note with your home's phone number scribbled on it. "And here's my house number." Quickly, you lean down and kiss his cheekbone. "Thank you for the date, Sans. I had fun." When you move back, he's a little less tense, though you can still catch onto a subtle mark of embarrassment on his face. "I'll take the bus. But call me if anything happens, alright? Cars can get damaged with the weather."

Slowly, he nods, saying, "Alright. See you later, (Y/N)."

"See you later, Serif."

Chapter Text

“Are you really going to let Frisk hang out with them?” Jerry asks, offering you a drink.

The smell of alcohol is beyond distinguishable when you take it; you can feel your eyes burn and your throat itch in response to its strength. “Weren’t you the one who said they hurt Frisk, in the first place?” he adds, grimacing. You set it aside. If he was trying to soften you up by making you tipsy, you weren’t falling for it. “How come they get to see Frisk more often than I do?”

You sit up straight and let your legs drape off the chair. “I’m still deciding what to do with that,” you reply, facing the beach. With the sun already close to hiding, you can tell it’s getting late. Three hours had gone by since you made it here, and yet he still chose to wait until the last minute to talk about this matter with you. “And I never stopped you from seeing Frisk. You did that to yourself. The only barrier I set was between you and me -- not them.”

Your shoulders tense at the feeling of his hands bringing you in for a hug from behind, his chin resting against your upper back. You brush him away and glare him down, jaw clenching. “Don’t touch me, Jerry,” you blurt out, chest heaving. “I’m already seeing someone else.” That last sentence is quick, unplanned, and more of a necessary impulse than anything else. Even if you weren’t in something official with the one in question yet, you didn’t want to play around.

“Who?”

“That’s none of your business.”

Jerry stands up, now his turn to be angry. “It is if he'll be the one who’ll be replacing me.” His hands clench, his back straightens, and his height towers over you. “You can’t just date any stranger you meet.” Not wanting to feel small, you stand up and lift your gaze, meeting straight with his eyes. “If the guy turns out to be bad, he..." He hesitates and changes his scowl for a frown. "He wouldn’t only be hurting you, but Frisk, too.”

“And you think I don’t know that?” You sneer and shudder when a gust of wind blows by. “I’ve been single ever since we broke up, Jerry. It’s only now that I’m finally starting to do this again!” When another breeze hits, you take a towel and wrap it around your body, protecting yourself from the cold. Ready to leave, you lift your chin and turn around, only to be held back by him once more. “What? It’s getting late, and Frisk’s already sleeping.”

“Hear me out for a second, please," he says. Your back’s still to him, leaving his expression unknown. His voice is what reveals his emotions, a hint of concern reaching his tone. “I just want what’s best for Frisk and… And you.”

“You had time to worry about that way before this. It's too late for that now.” Again, you brush his hand away and take a small step forward. “You can see Frisk anytime you want, so long as they want to. But I don’t want to talk with you anymore, Jerry. You had your chance -- Not now, when you've just found out I’m dating someone else.”

“You're being selfish.”

The next time you feel him touch you, it’s around your waist. He tries to hug you a second time, but you reject him by pushing him off you. “I said,” you snap, turning around, “don’t touch me. You were the one who said we could be parents, so don’t you dare try this with me again.”

With him now four feet apart from you, your gazes are more leveled out. Still, he tries to make up for it by closing off distance, attempting to corner you. “And yet you still agreed to it,” he remarks. “You're just as guilty as I am."

You want to stay and argue, but your mind fights against it. Id and ego have a conflict as you try not to let things explode, already done with Jerry for today. The sand sinks and slows you down when you aim to make an exit, opening a path for him to stop you again. He holds your wrists and keeps you in place. There are tears welling up in his eyes and a sense of longing present in his touch. "I meant it when I said I missed you," he adds, holding you tighter. "I was... I was scared back then, thinking I wouldn't be a good father for our kid, so… So I left. But now I'm responsible enough, and I can prove it to you." His face gets closer, sufficient for you to smell the booze in his breath. "Don't you miss me? Just please give me one more chance, and you'll see what I mean."

Just as you're trying to break free from his hold, you hear someone open a door and touch the sandy floor. A voice intervenes, coming from the car parked nearby. You can recognize it already, but you try to focus on Jerry and his drunken state more. The voice is softer at first, growing louder when they say, "Leave ren alone."

That confirms who they are.

Frisk closes the door, walks to your side, and looks up to meet with Jerry's face. Their next words are signed, revealing their anxiety, "You might still be my dad, but you're not married to them anymore."

Your wrists burn when he lets go. You look down at them, seeing bright red contrast with the tone of your skin. Then, you move your attention to Jerry and see frustration still present in his eyes. His hands twitch before he balls them again and lets them fall.

"That's no way to talk to me, Frisk," he says, replacing his sorrow with anger. "Aren't you gonna say anything about it?" he adds, words now directed at you.

"I told you to leave ren alone," Frisk persists, mimicking his anger.

Jerry looks at you, then at Frisk, and later at your drink, its ice now long melted. He picks it up and chugs it down in three large gulps, crushing the cup when finished. "I'm leaving."

True to his word, he storms off, sand scarcely obstructing his steps as he opens the door and climbs into the driver's seat.

You rush off to him, saying, "You're too drunk to drive. Let me do it."

He shakes his head, and a chuckle leaves his mouth as he tosses the cup aside and turns the key around. "Go take a bus if you don't wanna hitch a ride with me," he replies, snickering. "I'm out."

"It's dangerous." You hold him back by grabbing his arm, this one left to hang over the open window. "Give me the keys."

He grins and closes off distance between you. "Only if you give me a kiss, babe."

"Jerry, please. You're being ridicu-

Again, Frisk proves to be not only monsterkind's saviour, but also your own as they speak up again, another voice accompanying theirs. "Step away from the car and let them drive, sir." You look to the voice to see the local lifeguard standing next to Frisk. She has her arms crossed tight and firm lips, showing her authority.

Arm muscles define themselves as she stands up straighter and narrows her gaze at Jerry. A thin layer of patience reveals itself by the way she taps her foot and frowns. Her neon red swimsuit contrasts with her tanned skin and black hair alike, making her an unavoidable sight for those looking for trouble.

"Don't wanna."

"Do it for your child." Her frown deepens, furrowed eyebrows completing her look. "Or else I'll be forced to hand you over to our guards until you sober up."

"Take me, then." He steps out of the vehicle and holds his arms out; a sloppy smile shows up as he waits for her to approach him and do as told. "If I'm not driving my car, then nobody else will."

"Jerry, please, stop thi-"

Too late for you to try to calm him down, the lifeguard walks to his side and looks him right in the eyes. "Suit yourself." She signals for him to follow her, waiting until he turns the vehicle off, takes the keys away, and complies. "You'll have your car ready by tomorrow morning. But for now, you get a free, one-night stay with our security guards." She then moves to you, barely changing her expression until she speaks up again. "There's a bus stop left to the exit." A hint of a smile shows on her face, hardly noticeable. Had you blinked, it wouldn't have shown. "The next one should be here in ten minutes."

You nod, too shocked for words. Out of the two years you spent being friends with Jerry, a few months of dating, and a few more of marriage, this was one of the few occasions where you'd seen him react this way. "Thank you." You take Frisk's hand and walk with them out of the beach, steps slow as you consider what's happened. You want to recall times when he'd acted similar to today, yet your mind runs short, only pleasant memories and the day he left you showing up. Anything else is blanked out, bringing out your frustration through a huff.

"Are you okay?"

On the verge of letting unwanted emotions show, you bite on your lower lip and face down at Frisk, managing a smile. "I'm okay."

They stay quiet and let go of your hand to sign their next words. "Is it still okay for me to hang out with Jerry?"

You hum in agreement, maintaining your smile. "Of course it is." Your hands shake and you try wringing them to control it. Frisk notices, a hint of red still visible on your skin. "...Just as long as he's sober and treating you well. Don't worry about me, honey."

They frown and keep their eyes on your wrists. You struggle to hide that from them, though they persist by saying, "I… I don't wanna hang out with him anymore. He hurt you."

Anger spikes, making you blurt out the first thing on your mind, "The monsters hurt you, too. And yet I'm still giving them a second chance."

Frisk furrows their gaze and looks up at you. "It's different with them. They stopped when I told them to, and they knew what they did wrong in no time at all." Their nose scrunches up and their frown turns to a scowl, displaying their anger by the double. "Jerry barely even listened to you the first few times. And... And even now he's still not listening!" They hiccup, body trembling as tears gather in their eyes. "T- Toriel gave me a place to stay after I ran away, Papyrus was nice to me all along, an- and Alphys tried to help me... even if she wasn't too good at it."

"And what about Undyne? She attacked you right from the start, didn't she?" you comment, hands on your hips. "And Sans? Didn't he threaten you once, even though you'd done no harm?" You're outright livid now, self-hatred manifesting itself when you realize how naïve you'd been.

You'd carelessly kissed the very same man who'd threatened your child. 

What was different between him and your once husband?

They'd both submitted your child into danger, be it directly or not.

Why were you bothering yourself with the monsters, then?

Worse yet, why were you thinking about dating one of them?

And what was the point in all of-

"Heya."

You're interrupted by the sound of the same man's voice. Not Jerry's, but Sans's. You blink through your fury and look to his side, seeing Frisk has already run off to the back seat of the car. They're smiling again despite the tears in their eyes, and they respond with a nod when the monster asks them if they're alright. "Ren's not," they sign, attempting to be discreet, yet failing.

Reluctantly, you make it to the front passenger seat and thank the skeleton when he opens up the door for you, magic granting him the ability to do it without much movement needed on his part. "Did Frisk call you?" Your eyes refuse to stare at him, focusing instead on the bus already approaching from a few more blocks away.

"Yeah," he replies, changing the gear stick from park to drive. "Don't mean to pry, but…" He's silent for some time, car staying still. "Wanna talk about it over lunch tomorrow?"

When you try to look at him, your gaze can only focus on his face, a grim reminder of what you'd done not too long ago. If you wanted to be a responsible parent, you needed to get a hold of yourself. "...Sure." You relax your posture while he begins the drive. At a red light, you continue with, "Thank you."

Now able to face you, Sans grins and later winks, hands kept on the wheel. "Anythin' for you, (Y/N)."

You squirm at the sound of him saying your name, battling away any feelings for him. 

Whether Frisk's or your own words were true, you still had to be strong, both for their sake and yours.

. . .

End of Arc 1 | Ruins

Start of Arc 2 | Enemy Approaching

“It is necessary that the weakness of the powerless is transformed into a force capable of announcing justice. For this to happen, a total denouncement of fatalism is necessary. We are transformative beings and not beings for accommodation.”

– Paulo Freire, Pedagogia do Oprimido

Chapter Text

"You're the one they're dating, aren't you?" Jerry asks, obstructing the line. A few potential customers leave when they notice what's going on, not bothering to become involved in the mess. "How's that gonna even work, though? They're only into real men as far as I know. You're just bones and magic."

"This really ain't the place for us to be talkin' about this, pal," Sans replies, looking behind Jerry. "Just lemme do my job. We can talk about this after I clock out."

"Don't you have a lunch break? Let's talk by then."

"'Fraid I've already got plans for lunch."

"Does it involve them?"

"Maybe." The monster shoos him out of the hot dog stand, continuing to serve those in wait. "Dunno why you're still so hung up over this, though. Why don't ya move on?"

"That's easier to say than do." Again, Jerry obstructs the line, ignoring those who tell him to buzz off. He suspends himself over the cart and grabs Sans by the collar, pulling him off the ground until he's to his eye level. He narrows his eyes and tightens his grip on the monster's shirt, yet the latter remains calm. "How far have you gone with them? You're betraying our friendship."

Sans uses magic to break free from Jerry's hold. Then, he shrugs, hands slipping into his pockets. "Let's end it, then. Rather have that than let you keep on questionin' me over weird stuff, and then make me lose customers 'cuz ya keep on blockin' the line."

"Wouldn't have happened if you'd just tell me what's going on."

"I would," Sans comments, taking a water bottle and handing it to one of his clients. "But realistically speakin': What's it to ya? From what I've noticed so far, they've moved on from you, pal."

"But I haven't."

Chuckling, Sans takes a break from the conversation to look up at the sky, grey clouds blocking the sun and the heat. There are people around with their umbrellas already at hand. Those who don't have any rush to find someplace with a roof. "I'm gonna say this nicely, so hear me out." He emerges out of the hot dog stand and starts closing things up, not only due to the worsening weather, but it being barely ten minutes away from his lunch break. If Jerry was still at it, he needed that extra time to get him off his back. "I don't want any trouble, so stop tryna stir some. You had your chance, Jerry. Now it's none of your business who your ex chooses to date, and even less how far they've gone with that person."

"It should be if Frisk will be in the picture."

"Then take responsibility and look after them. You're worryin' too much about this."

"You don't know what I've been through."

"Maybe not, but I can at least tell you to try. Didn't you do the same when I was talkin' about hitting things off with your ex?"

"That was a mistake." He scoffs, glaring at the monster. "Don't rub it in."

Sans finishes closing up right as the first few drops fall. A strong wind blows, wet earth and hot concrete wafting through the air. When he walks off -- Jerry now left behind -- Sans soon stops, hearing him mutter out a 'wait'. Then, he turns around, facing up at the human man, anger present in his posture, stiff and awkward. "Just... Just tell me if you're serious about them or not."

Though it pours, Sans is unable to move. He stays still and considers Jerry's words, thinking back on the night at the hotel and yesterday evening.

Sure, he found them attractive -- attentive and dedicated when it came to their role as a parent, too.

But why exactly did he want to be with them?

Despite his social circle, he mostly thrived alone, and taking up big responsibilities wasn't his thing, in truth. It often tired him out to so much as consider having a serious relationship with someone, and he couldn't even maintain his current friendships or the day-to-day life with his brother. He sounds a lot like the same man he's judging with those last lines, yet it doesn't feel right; that same sensation increases the more he considers his feelings and the situation overall. Living with his brother brought upon an inevitably energetic lifestyle. His personality was far different from Papyrus's, and -- on some occasions -- he didn't exactly feel his best self knowing those differences were still present between him and most of the people he knew.

So why was he getting himself into something as complex as a romantic relationship? 

Was he only curious about how it all felt, having heard others around him talk about love and intimacy ever since he could remember?

If that was the case, then it really wasn't okay for him to keep fooling around with them.

And judging by how stern and persistent Frisk was when it came to defending their primary care parent, they wouldn't be, either.

"You just think they're attractive, and that's about it. Right? They're only eye candy to you, I'm sure." Jerry comments, Sans's time having run out. "Betting you ten bucks you'll ditch them the second you get bored of them."

He doesn't hold back his tongue, replying with, "Talkin' from experience?"

With the rain now pouring too hard for either of them to continue, Jerry settles by glaring at the skeleton before giving his back to him. "You dodged my question," he remarks, snickering. "Let's have a talk when you've actually got an answer, and maybe then you can go ahead and judge me all you want, bro." Silence arrives, broken with, "In the end, you're just as bad as me."

Sans stays quiet, analyzing the bit of truth in Jerry's words.

Before Frisk freed his kind, how many times didn't he simply stand by the sidelines, watching as fallen human after fallen human got hurt, sought, and wounded -- until their passing? 

He didn't hurt anybody, but then he also didn't help anybody either. Things had gone in a similar way with Frisk; he'd only watched over them every so often, fulfilling Toriel's promise of not hurting any human, but half-heartedly -- seeing as he'd never bothered to help them much, either.

What guaranteed he wouldn't do the same thing here at the Surface, and even more with a human crush he was only recently getting to know?

"Sans, you're soaked!"

Speaking of them, Sans sets those thoughts aside and looks up to see an umbrella covering him up. They stand under it and close to him, brushing shoulders as they escort him off to drier land. Their touch sends electricity down his body, yet he forces himself to ignore it, a flash of guilt overcoming those wants. He accompanies them under a bus stop, its roof providing partial cover from the rain. They keep the umbrella straight even as they rummage through their belongings, looking intent to take out something from there. "Hold on a second," they say, retrieving a pink and polka-dotted handkerchief from one of their bag's tiny side pockets. "It's… not really much, but it's better than staying all wet."

Sans nods, still too lost in his thoughts to respond properly. He takes off his jacket and grabs the piece of cloth, quirking an eye socket when he sees the human move their gaze elsewhere. "...Your shirt's a bit thin," they comment, as if reading his mind. If it embarrassed them, it was hard to tell with their voice, too quiet for him to catch onto any change in tone. "Should we find somewhere else to stay? The sky just keeps getting worse."

Almost seeming to set those priorities straight, the weather responds to their comment by lashing out more rain, stronger than before. A car drives past, sending a torrent of water at his and everybody else's direction, holding little regards to speed, puddles, and those nearby. He reacts by instinct, casting a quick shield to prevent everyone around from getting wet. As he steps back, his shoulder brushes with theirs again and he's forced to suppress another shudder. His soul and body both long for their presence; his brief time with them at the hotel has now become a faint yet pleasant memory he wanted to keep and cherish whenever possible. "Let's go," he replies. Then, he reaches out for the umbrella without looking.

He grabs their hand instead -- by accident, that is. 

To his surprise, they don't pull back, and he follows their gaze to see them looking up at the sky. "...It's getting worse," he hears them say, a hint of sadness showing up on their tone, words muttered. "Let's go to my place." Their comment is pure survival instinct more than anything suggestive. He sees their chest rise and fall at quicker intervals, hinting at panic. "I need to go get Frisk if the weather keeps up like this." 

Their voice breaks and their hand stays with his. Briefly, he wonders why they're scared over the bad weather, that being something mostly he was known for. 

"Aren't they with Toriel today?" Sans asks, trying to lighten up the mood. "The kid's safe if you're worried about 'em."

They remain quiet, observing the rain before saying, "I… I lost them in a storm like this one the last time they ran away." They huff, not in annoyance, but in fright -- based on the shudder their body makes. They press themselves closer to him, the height difference making their arm brush with his shoulder. Their head rests against the top of his, tilted over to the side. "I'm worried they'll do it again with what… happened yesterday."

He slips his free hand back into his pocket, still too awkward to pull his hand away from the umbrella. "Do ya really think they'll do somethin' like that again?" It's an unforeseen question, one he feels imprudent over asking. Even so, there's no turning back now, and he can only try to soften up his words better. "They looked pretty sorry for doin' that twice."

"Still…" They press closer to him, holding his waist. Judging by how careful their touch is and how little their expression shifts from their sorrow, he shakes off the possibility of this being one of their attempts at paying back at him for his flirting. "I'm worried." Their hand slips away, leaving the ghost of their warmth on his bones. "We should get going. You're still soaked." They smile, continuing with, "Thank you, by the way. It was a lot better having you pick us up, rather than taking the bus at seven."

Finally capable, Sans pulls his hand back and follows them out of the bus stop, finding additional coverage under the roofs of nearby buildings. "No problem," he says, looking up at them. Only the human and himself can be seen walking; the rest of the people around either make a run for it, or take cover inside shops and offices. "That's what we're all here for, pal."

They smile; all the uncertainty from before seems to have never existed with how bright their expression is. Then, they nod and bump their hip against his. "I mean it," they say, lips tugging upwards. "I, well… I still feel weird over our date, but in a good way, though."

He arrives at their home an hour after. 

The weather's still at it, though compared to previous times, there's no thunder to worry about yet. All sorts of leaves litter the grass and the roads around, the strength of the wind being responsible for it. A few car alarms go off as debris falls over them, leaving their owners to try bringing control over the situation. 

When he makes it with them to the front door, they open it up in no time at all and bundle him up with a towel as soon as they step inside. 

"You should shower and change, just in case," they say, slipping off their shoes. They set the pair aside next to the welcome mat, and he figures he should do the same, too. "I'm not sure if monsters can get sick this way, but you should head over to the bathroom while I look for some clothes."

It's only when they turn to him that the situation finally gets to him. Captivated by their words, he looks up at them with a grin, that alone resulting to be enough for them to freeze and stay still, like a deer in the middle of a road. "Taking this dating thing seriously, huh?" he asks, stepping closer to their side. They don't take a step back, nor do they glare, looking as lost as humans often did when they fell Underground. "I'm flattered."

When they do show their anger, it conflicts with a frown and watery eyes -- far different from their usual self. Even when they'd become frustrated confronting Alphys and Undyne about their lives underground, they hadn't shown sorrow like this one. It's distant and concerning enough for him to want to back away from his frequent teasing.

They take a step forward, the clicking of their shoes now gone. Then, they lower their gaze and their frown quivers as they try not to let their tears fall. "I…" They hold on to his shoulder, bringing him closer as they do the same. Their eyes narrow and their unknown conflict shows through the wrinkles on their forehead and the subtle pout of their mouth. With how close they are, it wouldn't take much for their lips to brush with his teeth. 

Just as he feels their arm around his waist, they pull back, looking elsewhere as they backtrack on their steps. "...I need to ask you something," they say, still facing away. All of a sudden, their conflict dissipates and anger returns to their posture. They cross their arms, finding strength again. "Can... Can you stay over so we can talk?"

Sans nods, keeping his cool. He tries not to think back too much on how close they just were or how they'd brushed off their sadness like it was nothing, yet it's hard to do. His soul pounds as he holds them back with a 'wait', refraining from physical contact. "You doin' alright, (Y/N)?" he asks, holding back a breath. "We can still talk about yesterday, if you wanna. Maybe we can't go anywhere with the weather right now, but I can make us that dinner I promised you last time."

Their lips form a firm line as they consider his offer.

Seconds later, a smile shows on their face. They then look down at their phone, checking the time. "Sounds good." They grin, a stifled laugh following it. "Now go change, Sans. We can't keep this up if you get sick!"

Chapter Text

When you're done freshening up, dinner's already underway. The scent of vegetables and broth hits your nose, and the cold temperature left behind by the storm brings forth an additional hint as to what the monster's cooking up for dinner. You try to stay soundless as you sneak off to the kitchen and stand behind him, looking over his shoulder when you make it there.

"I can tell you're here, pal," Sans says, chuckling. 

He turns to you with a spoon held out in his hand. There's a sample of soup on it, waiting to be tested. The scent reminds you of having missed lunch break due to the stormy weather, with the hours it lasted bringing forth your boss's decision to call the rest of your shift off. You were supposed to be at your last meeting by now, but the rain and wind had proven to be superior, canceling all plans. Less work meant less pay, though you try to refrain yourself from worrying too much about that right now. "Taste it." He offers it out to you, still waiting. You, on the other hand, take a while to do anything, overthinking the situation as you then debate on whether to grab the spoon or taste it right off his hand. The first option had the risk of you brushing hands with the monster and spilling the soup in the process, yet tasting it right off his hand was almost unthinkable to do. 

Another thought pops into your mind, and that's whether it was fine to trust the skeleton by tasting the food and giving him the benefit of the doubt about it not being tampered with. Though you knew him for a few months now, it's still impossible not to acknowledge a possibility like that one. If a man you'd known for so many years had ended up leaving you, only to make a scene like yesterday's when trying to get back with you, who's to say a stranger with customs far different from yours wouldn't do something similar -- or worse?

You remind yourself of your main and original task: confronting him and the rest of the monsters over the choices they made back at the Underground, regardless of how charming and kind they were being with you currently. Sans was no less of an exception. This wasn't only for Frisk's safety and their overall state of well-being, but for your reputation as their parent -- and for your peace of mind, too.

You figure you've taken too long based on how the skeleton backs the spoon away.

His grin widens, and he then sips the contents off the spoon, leaving it empty. "I promise it ain't poisoned." He gives his back to you as he goes to wash the spoon, offering it to you after it's been cleaned. "You can taste it now." Sans moves aside, creating space for you to step forward and scoop a bit of the soup still bubbling in the pot.

Just as you're about to eat it though, he says, "I'm not the best cook around, so go ahead and lemme know if it tastes funny." 

A smile forms on your face when you hear that, captivated by the idea of him having no clue how to begin cooking, and even more considering he was at your home instead of his. If it was often difficult for beginners to cook in the familiarity of their own home, you can't imagine how it must feel doing that at another person's place. For a moment, you wish you could've seen him in the process of cooking, an opportunity you'd lost while you went off to shower and change.

When you taste it, what's missing drops into your thoughts; years of having cooked at home reveal the capability of identifying that quickly. You consider the suggestion and confirm what the soup's lacking when you clean up the spoon and take a second sample off the pot. "It's good," you say, setting it aside. "Just needs a bit of salt and more time to stew. The rest is fine."

"Thanks," he replies, hands going back to his pockets. "Paps wants to improve his cooking, so I figured I've gotta better mine some more before I teach 'im anything."

Again, your mind finds itself in a conflict. While it's charmed by the thoughtfulness of that comment, it's also clouded by the morose reminder of why you'd asked him to stay for dinner in the first place. To distract yourself, you add the missing ingredient to the soup and walk with Sans to the couch while it finishes boiling.

It feels strange to sit so far apart from each other, but he doesn't close off the distance, nor do you.

You prop a leg over the other and rest a hand over your knee, bouncing the one on the floor when you lack anything more to say. Your thoughts scramble around as you try to find a way to make the situation less awkward. When you glance back at him, you see it's something he also seems to want to end; your gaze meets with his when you both decide to look at each other's side -- synchronizing.

He shifts closer and you do the same, continuing until your hands touch.

Almost immediately, you pull back, yet your gaze remains locked with his, eyes drifting down to his teeth. Even as he gets nearer, you stay put, lost in your thoughts and the risky scenario unfolding. Your brain and heart scream at you to stop; your body -- conversely -- refuses to move out of its current spot and rebels by inching closer to him, until you're near enough to catch the scent of the only soap brand you often bought for showering: soft-scented, cheap, and antibacterial. It's strange to catch that aroma from someone other than yourself. Frisk preferred using a different kind, making the situation much more intimate than you would like it to feel.

You grab his hand again as he leans into you, only stopping himself when your back presses against the armrest. Then, he pulls his hand back and uses both to hold your shoulders and corner you right into place. Height difference makes it so that his legs stay knelt on the couch while yours hang off it, these tucked aside as you focus on the matter at hand. He brings himself closer as he tries to level out your heights, grip on you staying. The sound of your heart and of the soup simmering by the kitchen are the only two other things to keep your mind occupied from what's happening; anticipation makes your breaths waver.

As if the situation couldn't get tense enough, the door of the living room opens and in barge two people, leaving you in an iced state. 

Rather than Frisk and Toriel, it's Frisk and Jerry who stand at the frame, one casting a look of betrayal at the monster while the other scrutinizes the scene. You try standing up, yet the monster's hands hold you back, body held up over yours -- still cornered. His face reveals nothing but conflict, an expression similar to your state of mind regarding how freely to act with him. 

Jerry leaves without a word and shuts the door too slow for it to even click. Frisk does the rest of the job for him by locking it, checking it again, and saying nothing themselves as they look at you in the eye and sign, "Can we talk later, ren?"

Still in a tough position, you nod once, lacking strength or words to say anything out loud. 

Sans doesn't move even as Frisk disappears into the hallway.

You see his irises falter when you look at him; his gaze isn't fully there. A few drops of sweat are present on his forehead, and you can feel his hands grow colder with each second. "...Are you okay, Sans?" you ask, voice faint. "I, um... I think the soup should be ready now."

You hope that's enough to snap him out of it, only to have that contradicted when his hold on you stays. "I'm sorry, (Y/N)," he mutters, huffing, "I failed you."

Sans moves back while you sit up straight; silence returns. He stands up and goes to turn off the stove, all done within more time than you would expect as he chooses to stay there a few more minutes, staring aimlessly at the kitchen's wares. You rest your hands on your knees, and you wait to see what he does next. There's not much you can do now that you were caught in a moment like that one, and there's no time to beat yourself up over it, either. All you can do's admit your blame where it best seemed fit, and that was in letting your inner voice act before you. You'd given it your strongest efforts to wait until your first year of college to date Jerry, only to then wait until you had a stabler job by your second semester to actually do anything more serious with him, and later waited six more years alone, watching as Frisk grew up in your care for most of the time, only to let your wants show through now of all times.

Excuse through excuse -- be it valid or not -- you'd restricted yourself at every moment you saw possible.

All that, and yet it still felt as if you hadn't done enough.

You wanted to be stronger. 

"Frisk told me 'bout your situation," Sans says, distracting you from your thoughts. "Not whatever happened with Jerry, but the way you see monsters, and well… me, in general." He turns away from the kitchen and sits back down on the couch, looking directly at you, though for wholly different reasons than earlier ago. His hand stays over yours, more comforting than sultry. Were you to know him for any longer, you would've assumed he's holding his soul on his sleeve, yet you remind yourself he's still a stranger. "Maybe this's my habits showin' up, but if I were to judge you based on what they told me, I'd say you're labeling yourself as the bad guy." His fingers intersect with yours, squeezing your palm. "Of all the things I've gotten to learn about you, this's one of the least you should be blamin' yourself for. If anything, you're not exactly the only one responsible for all that's been happenin' right now."

Your breaths grow tighter the longer you keep listening to him. Your heart's racing again, yet it's not the same as before. The monster lets your hand go, continuing with, "I can't tell you just how different we are from each other, and how much I wish I had a fraction the amount of willpower you and your kid have." He sighs; a hint of a smile shows despite the furrow in his gaze. "You've got some things right about me, and one of 'em's havin' chosen to act too late. Being unable to be there for those I care about, more specifically." His nose cavity flares as he lets out a stifled laugh, remorse showing in spite of his best efforts not to let that happen. "I hate who I used to be, and even now, I still feel like I could've done more. I wanna try harder, but I don't have a clue on where to start with that."

Sans tries to stand up, yet fails to. He heaves out a breath as he closes his eye sockets and surrenders himself back on the couch; he rests his elbow over the armrest and lets his chin rest on his hand. After that, he looks back to your side, an apologetic gaze showing as his grin widens and his crease deepens, the way his monster anatomy worked allowing him to further display similar movements to that of a human narrowing their gaze. "Keep taking credit where it's due. And when you've got somethin' you want to improve, try your best to overcome it." He pauses, and the crease in his gaze lessens as he casts a fonder look at you. "Not that you ain't tryin' already. But you're still takin' up too much of the blame, and not realizing when you can be free. It doesn't have to be with me -- or anybody else, for that matter -- but try to live life a lil' more. Don't just dwell on the past and restrain yourself from stuff you want to achieve for yourself. You should live for you, just as you're tryna live for others."

He closes his eye sockets and brings a hand to his face, rubbing his forehead until he lets out a hushed sigh. Then, he opens them and straightens up on his seat, hands resting on his lap. There's a brief pause, broken when he breathes in again, saying, "...So a skeleton and a single parent walk into a bar," he takes another stop, continuing with, "One bares their skin to the bartender, earnest down to the bone," his breath hitches, yet he composes himself quickly, "the other sits back, looks into the past, and then wonders why he's feelin' so lonely."

He huffs and ends it all with a chuckle and an attempt at covering his face away from your sight. You stop him with the brush of a hand, taking his cheekbone when he turns to you. His body's shaking and a few tears escape his sockets, these he tries to wipe with his free hand, only for you to hold him back by doing that yourself. Caught in the moment, you kiss one of them away, the expectance of a salty taste proven wrong as you receive a hint of sweetness instead -- reflecting the memory of your day with him at the pâtisserie. His shoulders shake as he chokes back a sob, breaking down. His hands grab your back, bringing you in for a hug as he seeks more comfort. In that embrace, you can feel how his rib cage rises and falls at quick intervals, slowing down when you hug him back and wait until he breaks it apart.

The wait's as long as you expect it for someone in his state; the weight of his breaths diminish as he calms down and lets you go.

"Sorry about that," he comments, chuckling. "Wasn't really myself for a moment there, huh?"

Chapter Text

Dinner is about as awkward as waving back at someone you think's waving at you, only to then realize they're actually waving at someone else.

Frisk stares at your guest from beginning to end, only looking back to their bowl when they’re done with it. They grab a piece of bread and soak up what little soup remains at the bottom and say, “You’re not a bad cook", after. They take a bite off the bread; the rest of it disappears in three more. “Is this ren's way of testing whether you'll be a good boyfriend or not?”

Sans swallows hard and coughs once to recover as he sets his spoon down. “Well, uh… Somethin’ like that, I guess.” He casts a subtle glance at you, his gaze asking for help.

“We’re not dating,” you intervene. You take some soup, but end up throwing it back in the bowl when your hand shakes, too tense to continue eating. “You and Jerry just so happened to walk in at the wrong moment, making it look like something else.”

Frisk frowns, and a dull expression reaches their eyes. “I can tell you’re lying, ren. You’re bad at it.” Their gaze moves back towards Sans, who’s now finished with his bowl and trying to move away from the conversation. “What about you, then? Why’re you chickening out if you still wanna date ren?” They furrow their eyebrows and glare at the monster. “Why are you-“

“That’s enough, honey.” You stand up and face down at them. “This isn’t his fau-“

“So then, it’s yours?” Their voice breaks as they're the one to rise next; their hands thump over the table and their frown quivers as they attempt not to show any weakness. “He… He flirted with you, so that means he’s also responsible for it!”

“I said that’s enough, Frisk (L/N),” you snap, crossing your arms. “I’m okay with talking about this with you, but not during dinner. And even less when we have a guest over.” You plan to pick up the dishes, though the skeleton beats you to it, excusing himself off to the kitchen. “I’m not dating him, and that's final. That only happened ‘cause we kind of like each other. But I refuse to date anyone until you’re all grown up.”

“You’ll be old by then,” they whine, flailing their arms. “Grandparents can’t date!”

“Yes, they can.” You go along with the ridiculousness of the conversation, too caught up in it to fully assess their words. “And ten more years won’t make me a grandparent! I’m still young.”

Frisk huffs and switches for sign language, saying, “That still doesn’t mean you have to live like this.” They grimace, eyes wetting as they sniffle once. “I like seeing you happy… But right now, this just makes me feel like I'm bothering you.”

Your anger falls with that last sentence; panic replaces it.

In a haste, you try approaching their side, though they run off to their room just as you’re ready to bring them in for a hug. Their steps are quick and the door shuts with a subtle bang, their composure still showing through. You stay in place as their words replay on your mind over and over, gloom arriving. Dismissing them is an impossible feat; your mind continues to subject your thoughts into negativity, restraining you from acting quickly.

If you’d been doing a poor job at raising them this whole time, then what had been the point of it all?

Needing a distraction, you head to the kitchen and join Sans by the sink, no words spoken between you.

He washes the dishes while you dry and store them away, keeping up a rhythmic pace until only the pot’s left. Your gaze focuses on his arms, jacket’s sleeves lifted all the way up to his elbows, revealing the oddity of who you were growing attracted to. His shirt's a bit loose by the neck, presenting you with his collarbones as you spare a peek under it. You're still adapting to the strangeness of having someone look so similar to a human skeleton, yet so different all the same. He could breathe, laugh, move, talk... and even kiss based on first-hand experience. His skull wasn't entirely solid, allowing him to blink, eat, and drink -- besides from what you were thinking of whenever you stared at his face and down at his teeth. You tell yourself it’s wrong to be befriending him, and even worse finding any attraction in him. You’re not sure how to interpret his words from earlier ago, and just what it meant to see him break down like he had. 

He’d revealed he disliked who he used to be, but did he remember having said it?

From your experience, moments like those were hard to keep clear.

“Do you… remember what you said to me, Sans?”

His hands stop what they’re doing, one grabbing the knob -- ready to open the faucet -- and the other holding the pot, now coated in suds. He looks up at you, saying, “I cried, didn’t I? Don’t really remember word-for-word, but I know I meant what I said.”

You take a breather before responding with, “Even the part about hating who you used to be?”

Sans turns the knob, letting water pour down. “Yeah.” He nods, heaving out a sigh. “The more I look back and reflect on who I used to be, the more I understand why you don’t trust me.” The pot’s close to overflowing, though he doesn’t notice. You step in and place your hand over his, closing the faucet. Unaddressed tension remains as you stare down at his hand, yet you refuse to let it show, repelled by the idea of taking advantage of his vulnerability. You don’t want to engage in anything like your stay at the hotel again until you sorted out your mind and its jumble of thoughts, nor do you wish to romanticize his self-hatred by fulfilling your wants. “...I, uh, I get it now. And I promise I’ll stop flirtin' now that I know it.”

The monster pulls his hand away and takes the pot with both, emptying the soapy water down the drain. He does it little by little, preventing a flood in the sink. “Did Jerry say something about this?” you ask, taking the pot when he gives it to you. You hang the current towel and take a dryer, cleaner one from the rack. Then, you continue, finishing with the job. “He looked at you weird.”

He chuckles and meets with your eyes. “Maybe ‘cause I was all over you for a second there?”

You glare at him, lips doing the opposite by tugging into a grin, one you try to fight back. “Cut the sarcasm.” You jab his waist, smile growing. “You know what I mean."

“Let him think what he wants to think. I knew you before I knew him, and you guys haven’t been together for years. You’re your own person, and so’s him. If he doesn’t want to keep being friends, then that’s fine with me.”

You glance over to the time on the wall clock, seeing it’s already seven. With the frequent rain, the monster was forced to store his motorcycle away while it cleared out some more, and -- to make up for it -- his brother was now the one to either lend him his car, or take him where he needed to be. In short, letting him go back home would mean calling Papyrus two hours right before his sleep schedule. Either that, or it was sending Sans all alone off to the nearest bus stop.

You settle on neither, saying, "Want to stay over? It's late, and I've got a guest bedroom you can use."

He snickers and replies with, "Worried 'bout me?" When he notices, his grin falls, and he quickly makes up for it by adding, "Sorry. Doing that's pretty much a reflex now."

You smile and swat his shoulder, keeping your hand there. "...I don't really mind you flirting that way. I like it better than when you're straight-up obvious about it."

"Like the Mx. Serif thing?"

"Exactly." You shift on your feet, remembering one of his older comments. "That, and the ones you used to make about my... appearance."

"So you want me to be less invasive," he says, nodding. "Got it." He tries not to look down, a slight tense present in his grin. "I apologize if I ever made ya uncomfortable. I'm surprised you didn't just whack me over the head back then. Feels like I deserved it sometimes."

"Violence is not the answer." You pause, face regaining seriousness. "...Unless you cross borders you shouldn't be crossing."

"Kinda like what happened on the couch today?"

"No." You feel your throat ache the longer you talk with him, still too awkward to relax around him. "...I wanted it back then."

Sans washes his hands and gives you space to do the same. Then, he brings his sleeves down and waits until you're done washing up to accompany you to the living room. "Touch-starved?" he jokes, though you're far from taking it that way. 

Seven years.

Not that you were completely, utterly desperate for a relationship, but good company was still good company. You could still use the warmth of someone else, even if it was purely platonic or familiar -- like a tight hug, or just someone else to have around the house. Wanting to depend less on Jerry's support and more on your own funds, you proposed to yourself working extra hours for as long as it was necessary. The rest of your day was either used up in chores or in spending more time with Frisk. It's only now that the monsters help you out with your child and their growth that you have additional time to do stuff like this.

"...Yes," you reply, looking away. "But that can wait."

You excuse yourself and head over to the fridge, needing some water to cure the sudden soreness to your throat; that, and you didn't really want to keep tangling yourself up in that mess.

When you've just about drank more than half a gallon, you stop and take in a deep breath, bringing yourself back to calm.

Regardless of what Frisk and Sans himself had said about living for yourself every so often, you had your set of goals already planned out. Speed-running through a relationship wasn't one, and even less considering the subject's past. You needed to know him and his intentions better before throwing yourself into it -- more than usual.

Two years of pointless arguments between you and Jerry had been enough to last you a lifetime; one of them was even more than pointless, considering you divorced by your first year. You never understood the point of submitting a child to the sight of continuous arguments if you could just find a way to stop becoming involved in what was causing that. You didn't want Frisk to feel like the root of all your problems, nor did you wish to make them feel as if they had to redeem themselves for something that wasn't even their fault to begin with. It was difficult to comprehend the thought-process behind calling out how many finances were spent on them, unless they were being a spoiled brat about it. Guilting them over the good things they had and belittling their troubles through constant comparison wasn't what you wanted, either.

But did it all have to be done by you limiting your own life and enjoyments?

Sans's advice and Frisk's words get to you, these you try to brush off for the moment being.

Fixing your situation with the monsters was more important than that.

"Ren?" a familiar voice calls out, stopping your speeding train of thought. "Is Sans staying over tonight?"

Your body freezes up, face doing the opposite.

Out of all the people you could’ve chosen to be attracted to, it had to be a person whose existence you were barely aware of until a few months ago, who you would've sworn was a contradiction to science as you knew it, and whose flirting techniques were about as low quality as a school lunch's ‘pizza’ Friday. “Yes,” you say, drinking another glass. You’ve already drank more than enough, but stress makes you want more. “It would be rude to send him home with how late it is.”

“You just want him to stay longer, don’t you?”

“That’s none of your concern, dear.”

You serve them a glass of milk, kiss their cheek, and shoo them off to bed, slumping against the fridge when they’re gone. The sound of the television being turned on follows when their footsteps grow faint, and you can hear them exchange a few words with the skeleton, though none of these you can get to understand clearly, standing so far away. “That’s their favourite movie!” is the only sentence you can decipher from them, words exclaimed. “Have fun!” They run off, footsteps echoing down the hallway.

Finally left with Sans again, you return to the living room to see him resting on the same side you’d been pinned to on the couch. You try not to remember, yet your mind proves to be cruel as it reminds you over the subtle warmth of his hands, the scent of your soap on him, and him being so close to take initiative by being the one to almost kiss you on the lips. You’d been the one to do that the first time you kissed him on the cheek back at Mettaton's hotel, though you tell yourself it was nothing special. It was mostly the heat of the moment that had caused you both to take it easy, after all. Today was an entirely different story. Compared to your approach, his was a much more complex and slow building one, waiting for you to better process his intentions and reciprocate his actions with far more sincerity compared to your stay at the hotel. 

In short, you wanted to kiss him, but for real this time.

“You doin' okay?” Sans asks, seeing you arrive; he scoots further away, a simple gesture for you to sit down and join him.

“I’m... I'm okay,” you reply, nodding. “But are you really gonna watch that?” You point with your eyes at the television, your favourite movie still playing. “It’s a little lame.”

“Don’t lie.” He grins and hangs an arm behind the couch again when you settle next to him. “I’m pretty sure the kid said it’s your favourite.”

“Out of that particular genre, yes.” You stare at the screen, displaying a scene not too fitting for your situation, yet not completely out of touch either. It gives space for you to talk with him, no awkward romance scenes happening at the moment, and no loud, action-packed scenarios occurring either. Without a word, you move closer to him, letting his arm wrap around your shoulders as he brings you nearer, face resting against his chest. “Have you watched it before?”

“Today’s my first,” he says, hand lowering to your waist. He does nothing else, giving space for you to cozy up next to him the way you best deemed fit. “Feelin’ better now? You can stay for s’long as ya need.”

Aware the monster's referencing your no short of embarrassing confession from before, you shift to a straighter position, meet his irises, and glare up at him. Rather than throwing a remark back at the skeleton, you figure it’s now best to kill him with kindness. You take his cheekbone, smile, and stroke his face, smiling to better accomplish your payback.

When he looks at you -- far too earnest and warm for your liking -- you flinch and have a sudden, unconscious change of plans.

“You’re enough, you know that?” you comment, words practically slipping from your mouth. “Maybe I don’t fully understand what happened at the Underground, but... But I'd say you’ve shown you care enough to improve things you don’t like about yourself. And you've also been pretty blunt and honest with me so far, so there’s that, too.” You kiss his cheekbone, ending on a note far more wholehearted than you originally intended your payback to be. “Try to remember that next time you start criticizing yourself like that again.”

Chapter Text

You wake up to an arm around your waist and a prominent numbness to your cheek, pressed up against a hard surface. There's the sound of the fan turned on to the highest level, providing some cold even with the thick blanket you can feel wrapped around you. The wall clock ticks by the distance and you can hear someone else's heartbeat apart from yours. 

When you open your eyes and see who's the person you're with, you jolt out of the couch, stumbling to the floor. Your glasses are at the top of the monster's skull, held up by a thin shield of magic, and kept safe from being squashed while you slept against him. You take them, slip them on, and look around to assess your surroundings better to notice he's still sleeping on the very same corner and position you both watched the movie in. Your reflection on the television allows you to view marks on your cheek for how long you stayed that way. The next thing on your mind's checking the time, making you search around for your phone and find out it's seven in the morning, an hour of delay present in your schedule. 

If it was around eight when you sat down with him and the movie lasted around two hours, you'd slept far more than necessary. Not only that, but you'd fallen asleep on the same couch as the person you were still trying to sort out your feelings for. You try to make some clearer memory of what happened after the movie ended, yet it's all clouded after the credits rolled. 

The sound of the couch creaking makes you look back to the skeleton to see he's woken up, irises looking lost for just a fraction of a second before he sees you on the floor. Amusement blooms on his face, and he comments nothing as he offers his hand to you. You take it -- albeit, warily -- taking note on how much distance you keep between him and you. 

No matter what happened yesterday, you weren't letting your guard down.

"From the looks of it," he says, grinning, "I'm guessin' you woke up first?"

You aim to reply, though you look away and let his hand go to cover up a yawn, said action helping shake your leftover grogginess aside. You take it again after, having it offered to you once more. "Yeah," you answer, sighing. "But do you… Do you remember what happened after the movie ended? My mind's all fuzzy."

He sits up straighter, tugs you off the floor, and lets go afterwards. While you're still disoriented, his face looks refreshed and his posture looks far more relaxed than you would ever expect it to be after spending so long sleeping that way: in a rigid and plain uncomfortable angle and with you weighing him down for what had to be longer than eight hours. "Sorry to break it to ya, but you fell asleep way before that, pal."

"So you just let me sleep on you the whole night?" You refuse to believe him, not only for how ridiculous that sounds, but for the hour it is, and what you had to do before going off to work. "I doubt it."

Too sudden for your liking, his expression changes from humoured to tense, and his gaze diverts from yours. "Wanna know the full truth, then?"

You nod.

He lets out a sound between a huff and a chuckle and says, "Frisk came in by the time the movie was almost over, blankets and all." His voice turns strained, and he has to take a break to recover, embarrassment found in it. "They tucked us in and left without a word, so I, uh… I didn't really know what to do after that."

Your phone alarm goes off, cutting the conversation short. You pick it up, turn it off, and fight back your curiosity over learning more about what happened last night, and just why you'd been so tired as to remember that little about it. Your work schedule was no different from usual, and you were even working less with the current weather, meaning there was no reasonable excuse for you to be defending your exhaustion. Even if you redeemed those lost hours by taking up extra shifts, and even if you were a lot more stressed with your research over monsters and deciding which ones were safe to have around Frisk, that was no reason for you to be like this.

If you were saving yourself some trouble by not needing to search for local babysitters anymore all thanks to having Toriel and other monsters around to help you with that, and if you had moments to spare like for the night spent at the hotel, then you should have more than enough time to rest.

You continue to fight back excuses with that same line of reasoning for each one and force yourself to focus on your goals. 

A knock on the door sounds, leading you to stop your inner conflict to go get it. 

Before you can even make a motion for the door though, Frisk rushes out of the hallway -- without sparing a glance at you or the monster -- and does just that, excitement clear and undoubted in their expression. They stand on their tiptoes and peek through the peephole before opening it. As soon as they do, their curious look changes for a smile. A bright gaze shows on their face and they swing the door open. They plunge the visitor into a hug, Brenda's name being called out along with it.

You're still adrift enough for your mind to take a while to process what's going on. You're not sure what to do anymore, and even less what to say in response to the sudden changes happening day-by-day. So far, you were plenty aware almost each and every monster Frisk knew had been involved one way or the other with the Royal Guard, leading to the conclusion they had all once sought after your kind.

That being said, what were you doing here, sleeping on the same couch with one of those people?

What confirmed Sans's words from yesterday were in any manner true, and what guaranteed he wouldn't go back to his former self had he the remote chance to? 

You'd fallen asleep in the arms of the same man responsible for acting as a sentry for the Underground. You'd allowed him to enter your home, and had spent a night at the same hotel room as him. Even if he hadn't fulfilled his job exactly as it was commanded to him, you were still cautious of his presence, his actions, and the knowledge he kept hidden by remaining mellow and unbothered.

He used to engage in science, yet now he's just selling hot dogs and flirting himself to dead ends with you!

"We can't let her see you," you blurt out, remembering who's visiting. "She'll lose it if she thinks I'm dating you and that you sell hot dogs for a living!" Your words are hushed, but your worries still show through -- almost exclaimed, weren't you reminding yourself to keep quiet.

The skeleton flares his nose cavity and quirks an eye socket. "That's fine with me. But how're those two even related, though?"

When you hear Frisk is ending their talk with her, you grab Sans by the arm and lead him off to the hallway with you. You open the nearest door available and push him into the room with you. The most predictable predicament possible shows up when you turn around, lie against the door, and notice it's your bedroom -- thankfully tidy for the public to see. 

"Trust me," you say, huffing, "She'll be angrier about those two things more than how that guy at the bus was with me." Feeling you need to clarify your words, you compose yourself and sit down on the middle edge of your bed, folding your hands over your lap as you fumble with your fingers. Then, you face back to the skeleton, meeting his irises. "Not that she'll be angry about who's the one I'm spending my time with, but she's just... very particular of who I let into my house after that whole thing with Jerry happened." 

"But what does my job gotta do with anything?" he asks, chuckling, "Is she the type who doesn't see those kinda jobs as real ones?"

"Not exactly," you say, shifting on your seat. "I used to live from paycheck to paycheck -- the both of us, actually." 

You breathe in deep and attempt to calm yourself down by closing your eyes for a while. Then, you sigh and open them. "She doesn't hate people with street jobs, but…" You hesitate, still needing to prepare to say the words, at least. "To quote her: 'Don't you ever dare bring someone else into this house again, unless they…" Your face is burning, yet you remind yourself it's best to be honest. If the monster had been that way with you yesterday, and if he wasn't toying around with you, you wanted to try doing the same. If he wasn't and you were exposing yourself far too much in comparison, that time would then come, and you would make sure to not trust him anymore. "They agree and prove to be a good, well..." You could drink another whole gallon of water were you to have it available right now. "...a good stepparent for Frisk."

You're still facing him directly; ironically, you can't bring yourself to look elsewhere. "She gave me that lecture a really, really long time ago, but I just can't find the courage to… to fight against that. I even wrote that day down in a journal to remind myself of my mistakes."

That seems to be enough for him to break the ice first, saying, "Your mistakes?"

"Who else's fault could it be? If I hadn't let Jerry off the hook so easily, then maybe Frisk could've been living a much better future. I… I could've given Frisk a happier life if I'd just refused to let him g-"

You cut yourself off when you notice he's sat down next to you, keeping an arm's length of distance between you. "You're worryin' too much about this." His gaze appears serious, though you don't want to take it that way, considering what you've confessed to him just now. "Maybe those first years were tough, but I'd say the kid's pretty happy now, and from the looks of Jerry, he's doing well, too. Even if he's bein' a real jealous jerk 'bout it these days." 

Too lost in your thoughts, you don't notice you're tearing up until a drop falls on your lap, sleepwear soaking it in.

"You should throw that journal away -- or at least, rip that page off." A hint of mirth mixes with his concern, and his distance is now a hand's length apart. "...Not only 'cause you've already acknowledged where things went wrong, but 'cause you're only torturing yourself, always keepin' that with you."

You move closer to him, vanishing what distance remains as you let him hold your hand, eyes fixed on his face. "You-"

"Oh, hell no!"

By the voice alone and its sheer strength, you can already tell it's game over for you.

Brenda stands by the open door, moving her pronounced and unwavering glare between you and the monster. She takes in the situation, from the sight of a stranger in your bedroom, to you holding hands with him, and the fact you both still look like you've just woken up. While you don't blame her for assuming, you want to avoid bringing up discussions like those again. You were done with relationship drama for a lifetime, not only for how bad you were at managing stress, but for the needless trouble it could cast onto the remote lifestyle you've built through the years: keeping to yourself without getting too involved in the lives of others, no matter family, friend, or partner. 

She enters the bedroom when the skeleton greets her in, a quick and simple 'nice to meet you' sufficient for her to stop near the door and settle all her attention on him.

"You're (Y/N)'s godmother, right?"

Sans stands up, his tone and posture both on equal levels formal as he offers his hand out to her. "I'm Comic Sans Serif. Former servant of the Royal Guard." Brenda takes it, though she still has a wary eye on him.

"And what's your relationship with them?" she asks, unfazed. "I remember they were going to meet you at the train station a few months ago, but I do not see why you're allowed to be here."

An expression similar to when Frisk asked him if you were dating shows up, but he soon recovers and replies with, "Our relationship right now's the definition of 'it's complicated', but we're still pretty good friends."

"Define 'pretty good', mister Serif," she demands, keeping her hand in his. "Are you their man-friend, or something of the like? You… You don't really look like the most promising type of guy, I'll admit."

"Frankly, we're still workin' things out, but I don't mind being their 'man-friend', if that's what ya wanna call it."

While you would like to kick both him and your godmother outside or call them out on their blunt and plain audacious commentary, you stay back and watch as a dangerous, downright preying look unfolds from your godmother's gaze. She shakes his hand, but way too strong for it not to hurt, even for someone made primarily out of bones and magic. She squeezes hard enough to make the air bubbles between them pop and for you to hiss in response to the pain he's being brought into. When she lets him go, her gaze more than precipitates itself on you, capturing you similar to how a snake would do with a mouse. "My flight got delayed, I almost lost my soul with how much turbulence there was on the way here, and I'm still jet-lagged." Her scowl's as deep as her furrow, worsening by the second. "So either you explain to me what the hell went on these past few months I was gone, or we're going to have to talk soon."

You're not backing down without a fight -- confident in yourself or not.

"I'm an adult already," you reply, matching her scowl with a glare. "That was seven years ago, Brenda. I'm thankful for the help you gave me back then, but I don't need you lecturing me over who I should date anymore."

"I should if the guy you're dating willingly admits what's going on between you!"

"It's not like that!" You face his side for a moment, seeing he's still adjusting his hand back to mobility. "He's-"

"Are you really trying to defend him now, dear?" she snaps, stomping her foot and crossing her arms. "And are you really gonna let something like that happen again? He sounds worse than Jerry!"

"I've been alone since he and I ended." You try not to let your voice crack or falter, determined to be just as strong as her. "I get I screwed up that time, but I've learned and I'm still learning even now. You don't have to rub it in!"

"Oh, please." Brenda rolls her eyes and throws her arms up in the air, scoffing. "Then cry about it, why don't you? I just want what's best for y-"

"Then maybe I will, dammit." 

You wipe a tear off your cheek, scowl, and head out of the room, not bothering to look back.

"Say whatever you want to say about me," you add, keeping your back to her. "But don't drag him into this. I feel bad enough as it is -- indecisive and... And just outright incapable of being honest about how I feel." You clench your hands and spare one last glance at her, holding back tears. "He's not joking. I… I could've told him to stop trying to flirt with me, and I could've said no when he offered to take me out for dessert, but I still went with it. And now I'm denying what's happening, l- leading him on knowing I can't devote myself to another relationship as serious as the last, and… And k- knowing I still hate myself for it." You wipe away the wetness on your cheeks, sniffling to prevent things from getting messier. "Everything feels like it's changing, except for me!" You pause and take a break, regaining some calm through a breath. "Frisk brought an entire civilization back with them here, you moved away as soon as you found a better job, and all the close friends I used to have are gone." 

Another break, and another breath.

"Do I really have no right to move on?"

Chapter Text

Jerry watches as the monster hangs an arm around (Y/N)'s shoulders, bringing them close to him. A reserved smile reaches their face and they stare at their lap, avoiding eye contact with him. He -- on the other hand -- grins, saying, "So my parents won't be home tonight, and my bro'll be sleepin' by then." He pulls them closer, making them sit on his lap. Heights changing, they now look down and hesitate when placing their hand on his chest, using it as a means to maintain their balance on him. "Whaddya say you come over tonight?"

A sour feeling develops itself in the pit of Jerry's stomach, causing him to complain with a huff.

"...What about that project you're working on?" they ask, frowning. "Isn't that more important?"

"Doesn't mean I have to neglect everythin' else around me." Sans leans forward, grin growing as he stays millimeters away from their face. "But enough about that, though. I wanna know your answer." He grabs the back of their neck and pulls them in for a quick kiss. "There's... somethin' else I've been meanin' to ask you, by the way."

They lift an eyebrow and move aside a bit, curiosity making their posture turn stiff. “What is it?”

He keeps them balanced through the use of magic while he looks to his side and searches through his backpack. From there, he takes out a small box -- about half the size of his palm -- and hands it over. His gaze appears tense while he waits, though it fades away when they open it, widen their eyes, and gasp. 

Jerry more than loses it when he sees what’s going on. The world around him starts to fade, and he can’t tell if it’s due to his growing anger, or if it’s all just one big nightmare his mind decided to conjure for him.

Sans was a science nerd, and (Y/N) was a literature nerd. Jerry was the football jock.

They were supposed to end up with him, and not another nerd!

“You… You want to marry me?” they say, words exclaimed. “Is- Isn’t it too soon?”

He hears Sans laugh; the plain and utter cheekiness of that sound makes him wish he could fight the nerd with his bare hands.

And he wasn’t even a real nerd to begin with!

He was laidback, dressed casually, and didn’t fret over grades like other nerds did. His only quality was that he was intelligent and that he had a strange interest in the concepts of space and time, both separately and as a joint.

“This’s for after we graduate high school,” he explains. “If it's possible, then I’d like to know your answer by your first year in college.”

Their frown returns. They set the ring aside to grab his shoulders once more, staring him down. “So you’re… You're not going? I thought you wanted to be a scientist.”

“I’d like to, but I can’t.”

There’s a long term of silence between them, one in which Jerry hopes is a sign they’ll break up.

“Why not?”

Having his grip on them again, Sans stops using magic and meets with their gaze, a steely look present in his. His smile’s barely there, and there’s a shade of grey under his sockets, exposing a lack of sleep. “I'm not wanted in this school anymore, and even less in college.” He looks away from their side, leading Jerry to hide from his line of sight. “And this timeline just doesn’t feel right. It’s great that you freed my kind, that we got to study in your schools for an entire year, and I’m happy to be with you, too… But it still feels different, as if somethin’s missing.”

When both he and they catch sight of Jerry spying on them, the world wavers once more and crumbles until it’s not recognizable any longer.

. . .

Jerry wakes up with a shaky gasp. 

He coughs for air as he stirs back to action and opens his eyes to see he’s sitting at a table; the word ‘Muffet’s’ flashes in purple neon from the sign set up outside. Large glass windows help him observe the world in more detail. When he looks to the front, he flinches and has to hold back a scream, witnessing an older Sans sat across from him. Looking at his reflection in the window to notice he’s also aged a bit more helps him realize all of that really was just a dream. How he’d straight-up fallen asleep in a diner was far beyond his knowledge, though.

“You okay there, buddy?” Sans asks, chuckling. “You passed out the moment we made our order.”

He yawns his exhaustion away, but still glares at the skeleton when he’s done. “How... How long was I out?”

“About ten minutes. Food should be here soon, so maybe that’ll get ya workin’ again.”

“Don’t mock me, bro. I’m too tired to fight with you.”

“I’m not. I really wanna know if you’re feelin’ okay, though. It looked like you were havin' a nightmare with how scrunched up your face was.”

“A nightmare you were in.” Jerry scowls and sits up straight to peer down at the monster. “I don't like you, and I don’t want your pity.”

Sans shrugs and snickers as he lays back, appearing unfazed even as Jerry continues to glower at him. “Suit yourself, then. But you really should get some rest soon. And drivin’ while you’re like that ain’t the safest option either, so maybe I should drive when we’re done here.”

“Like hell you will.”

Jerry stands up and tries to leave, yet his knees buckle. He's brought down to one knee on the tiled floor, reflexes helping him avoid making a complete fool of himself. He stays facing down for a while, too angry, tired, and embarrassed to glance over at his companion.

"Stay and eat somethin'," he hears Sans say, patience tracing his tone. "Don't keep pushin' yourself so hard. It's bad for your health."

"Gross," Jerry comments, scoffing. He stands up and faces Sans with a glare, more intense than before. "Why do you care so much about me, anyway? Are... Are you gay or something? Is dating them your way of proving some sort of sick-minded point?"

"I already told you I don't care 'bout who I date -- man, woman, or whoever." He's firm in his response. "And aren't you bi?"

"Yeah, and that's different. It means I'm half gay, half straight. Not like you."

"I'm pretty sure that's not how it works, bud."

"I couldn't care less." His eyes turn wet, his body shakes, and his voice breaks. "I… I don't want us to be friends anymore. I'm sick of it, and I'm sick of-"

He can't bring himself to say that last word. 

He wasn't sick of the monster, but of himself instead.

Two of the few people he'd found attractive -- both emotionally and esthetically -- were dating each other. He didn't care if his ex was seeing someone else, but he did care about them going out with the guy he'd fallen for the moment he rambled on about science, and about how much he liked someone else. His irises carried a light so bright to them and his voice a passion so prevalent, he couldn't help falling for him -- even if he'd been talking about that person he liked, who only then turned out to be the one Jerry devoted years of friendship and dating, all to end the day he decided having a family wasn't for him.

"I…" He brings a hand to his forehead, sighs, and sits back down. "I'm sorry." As if things couldn't get more shameful for him, he breaks into sobs and is forced to bring his face to his palms to cover that up. "I don't hate you, man. Far from it." Jerry jolts when he feels Sans's hand on his arm, worsening his sorrow. "You- You've been a good friend, and… And you're clearly getting along with my ex, too -- from the looks of it. I just wish I could change the past, at least to the point where I didn't completely abandon the only person I fell so strongly for." He uncovers his face, looks towards the monster, and chokes back another sob. "It sucks that the two people I've liked this much are dating each other, but I want to improve myself. I… I really don't want to be like this anymore."

He feels cold when Sans pulls his hand away. His shoulders tense and he has to compose himself, needing some strength to carry on.

"What can I do to improve?" He's finally able to face Sans, though he still has trouble meeting his irises.

The monster sits back and nudges the napkin dispenser closer to him. "Well, first of all," he says, waiting for Jerry to take one. "You need to get back in shape. Sleep, eat well, and maybe look for some help on how you can lessen your drinking habits."

"Is it really that noticeable?"

"If you're askin' for my honest opinion, then yeah -- plenty. I've hung around Grillby's customers long enough to know when someone's hungover, even if they're tryna cover up." A bear server arrives, handing over two drinks -- both sodas, but of different flavors. Sans takes his, drinking some of it before continuing. "If you really wanna keep bein' Frisk's dad, you need to work with that first. I've only got so much knowledge on how the human mind works, so it's better if you look for professional help to guide you back to a stable path." He sets the glass down, ice cubes clinking.

"The only other advice I could offer you," he interrupts his sentence with a chuckle, a bit of regret mixing with humour, "...is to stop tryna get along with your ex. Give them some space, and focus on improving yourself more like you said you wanted while that's underway." He looks more tense now, making Jerry widen his eyes as he waits to see what the monster will say next. "It kinda feels like I pushed too hard, tryna form a relationship with them. Dunno if that tainted the possibility for a deeper relationship, but I kinda wish I'd picked up some more clues about how they felt about dating, and just why someone with their attitude put up with mine." He rubs the back of his neck, and another laugh makes its way out of him. "Maybe it's not on the same level as you, but that's how you feel about them sometimes, right? Like you could've approached the situation differently?"

Jerry nods and hums in agreement. "I just wish I hadn't left them alone with Frisk for all those years." He takes a sip of his drink, throat hurting with how dry it is. "They had to bring the kid inside college classrooms, just to take a test they couldn't make another date for. They… They tried calling me so many times, j- just to ask if I could watch over Frisk for a few hours, and- and I still didn't. I… I just hung up on them every single time, until they got sick of me and said I wasn't allowed to be Frisk's father anymore."

Despite the topic, both men stay quiet when they see the bear returning, both their orders arranged on a tray and balanced out on each hand. Jerry sighs, regains some composure, and thanks the server, later watching as Sans does the same. When he sees him set the tray down, he also notices his phone's buzzing, its tone put on silence.

"...They're calling you."

Sans looks over to where his eyes point at and picks up the phone just as it's on the second buzz. His face lightens up, leaving Jerry to swallow his pride as he tries not to overhear the call. He distracts himself with his food, yet he can still listen in to bits of the conversation.

"Sure. I can pick 'em up at your place, if you want."

His ex's voice is faint and undecipherable from the other line, though their emotions are made clear -- even more so when the skeleton grins while talking with them.

"Don't trust me in your house anymore, huh? I get it." His irises brighten. "Maybe I should buy you a new couch."

They sound a bit louder this occasion, as if rushing to fix their words.

"I'm pullin' your leg. Just lemme know the time, and I'll set things up so we can work on it."

Their voice again.

"You really don't need to. I'll pick 'em up."

Jerry swallows some of his food too early, making him rush for his drink. The burn in his chest is nothing compared to how awfully perfect the timing for their call is. It's as if he's having salt -- if not acid -- rubbed on his wounds, reminding him of where and what he'd failed at, and what he needed to overcome now to improve himself. He lets gloom take him over, but he soon brushes it aside when he sees Sans's irises light up and the faintest blush spread on his cheekbones.

"...You, too."

His voice is as faint as the wind, though he coughs to recover from it.

"See you then, puddin'."

At the sound of a nickname coming from someone else besides him, Jerry feels a burn in his heart again, yet it's not the food to blame this time. It's been years since he last called them anything besides their first name, and even longer since they last called him anything besides 'Jerry'. They'd given each other nicknames since their senior year in high school, when things were developing well and steady. To think he and they had been high school sweethearts at one point, only to then witness it all end in less than a year after the marriage makes his sorrow return. Now, as he sees them move on more and more each day, he's beginning to realize how much has gone to waste in so short of a life.

The delight in the skeleton's face is as clear as day when he hangs up. Even if he's trying his best not to let it show, it leaks through the rhythmic tap of his fingers on the table while he scrolls through his phone for a moment, apparently setting up an alarm based on the sound that pops up and the adjustment of its volume. It shows through the subtle curve of his grin and the white light of his irises, holding a different look to them than usual. It shows through how he has to adjust his posture to keep his cool, and how his gaze glances one final time at his phone to make sure he set up the alarm properly. And it shows through the melancholic note in his voice before he scratches it back to normal again.

The more Jerry looks at him, the more he's reminded of his failures. Seven years back, he would've never imagined someone else replacing him and the longing he displayed for (Y/N) day-by-day. Seven years back, he would've never imagined his future child would be receiving support and parental care from anyone else besides him and his then spouse. 

But here he was now, watching as his only other crush after all those years scheduled some time out of his usual workday to spend with both his ex-spouse and child.

C'est la vie.

Chapter Text

The shopping district’s as busy as the roads you’ve just driven by; food courts are the most bustling with the hour your phone marks: ten minutes past noon. Contraire to her punctual self, Brenda’s running late, though you settle for waiting ten more before sending her a message. You sit by an empty booth and take the last chair available in the row to avoid disturbing those who’re already eating. Then, you pull your planner out and skip through a few pages until you find the right one. Aside from your usual schedule, you had her visiting again this Friday, a meeting with Toriel regarding some plans she wanted to discuss with you on Saturday, and another one with Sans on Sunday to arrange the second step towards homeschooling Frisk while you enrolled them somewhere else.

It’s still hard to read that last one, not for what it was, but for the fact that almost every school you’d tried to sign them up into declined having other guardians aside from you and Jerry to pick them up. They declined Toriel just as much as they declined Undyne, all due to the new rules and regulations set up in schools since the monsters’ arrival. What Toriel wanted to discuss with you was related to that, though you hadn’t been given too many details as to what it was, exactly. You glance back to your phone to see over ten minutes have passed by already, yet Brenda's nowhere to be seen. You start typing up a message, only to be interrupted by her call; the device almost slips off your hands with how abrupt it is. 

“H- Hello?” you answer, catching your breath.

She screams an accusation at you, not an ill-minded one per se, but one questioning over why you’d kept information hidden from her.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’re that close to him already?” she asks, words jarringly loud. You have to turn down the volume despite it not being set on speakerphone. “So he's going to help you with Frisk? That’s serious boyfriend material, honey!”

Thankfully, she sounds happy.

Still, a correction's deemed necessary.

“What do you mean, Brenda?”

“Auntie Brenda, mind you.”

You huff and bring a hand to the side of your neck, tension consuming it. “Alright, Auntie Brenda… Where are you right now? I don’t have much break time left anymore.”

“Just go ahead and eat, dear. I’ll drive over on the weekend.”

Right as you’re about to complain over her choices, she speaks up again, calmer than before.

“Or why not come over after you have lunch there?” she asks, words cooed. “You work close to him, don't you?”

“Thanks for the offer, but I’ll stay here.” You can’t help feeling a little sour over her suggestion and with the reminder you’ve waited almost half an hour for her at the mall. With the call, it’s now thirty-five minutes past noon, giving you barely sufficient time for you to eat -- let alone listen to her rambling over how she’d misinterpreted your relationship and how Sans was better than she expected him to be. “You didn’t bother him with questions about his job, right?" you add. "He’s-”

“Why would I? He’s working an office job just like you!"

“He, what?”

You can’t avoid blurting that question out; a blank canvas replaces the image of him working at a hot dog stand. You try to imagine him working an office job, but it's near impossible to. Even if he knew plenty on various subjects, the monotonous yet fast-paced ambience of a desk job didn’t quite fit with your view of who the monster was to you.

“He works an office job, honey. Don’t you know where your own boyfriend works?” You can almost hear her shaking her head, disappointment made known through the blatant change in her voice. “Shame on you!”

You pinch the bridge of your nose and stand up, too vexed to sit still. “That’s not what I meant, Bre- ...Auntie Brenda,” you say, trailing off on your words. “I just… didn’t know he worked two jobs.”

“He does?!”

You lower the volume once more, Brenda's voice taking up a speakerphone quality to it again. Her tone then grows fainter as she questions the skeleton about the legitimacy of your statement. When her voice turns louder, you figure he’s given her an answer -- one you’ve no clue of. If he had two jobs, then you’re not so sure over how she'll be reacting. And if he didn’t, then you’d inadvertently put him on the spot by letting the truth known, something that didn’t really make sense if he was supposed to be working -- or at the very least, ending his lunch break right now.

Feeling it’s going to take a while, you stand in line at one of the fast-food establishments nearest to you; a growl from your stomach reminds you time’s running out. “So what did he say?” you speak up, knowing she’s getting distracted again.

“He does!” she exclaims, almost in a cheer. “Why didn’t you tell me he was that well-off, then? You should marry him now that you’ve got the chance to.”

“Weren’t you scolding me over the opposite barely a week ago?”

“Maybe so, but that was before I knew him better, dear!”

You roll your eyes and sigh, headache worsening. “Alright, I’m hanging up now. Don’t bother him too much, and stop interrupting his-”

“Wait,” she calls, excitement still there. “Have you ever thought of learning more about monsters? There’s a bunch of workshops going on right now… And I figured you could take one, since you’re dating one and all!”

Nearly the time for you to make your order, you let your tone become sterner, hoping to get your point across. “That… That sounds good and all, but I really need to go now. My lunch break’s almost over.”

Brenda huffs. “Fine.” Her voice comes out dragged, and it’s almost possible for you to hear her pouting. “But we need to talk all about this on Friday!”

“Sure. See you then.”

“Farewell, dear!”

You hang up, slip your phone back in your pocket, and turn to the register when you’re done, right on time to make your order.

Breathe in, breathe out.

You repeat that sentence along with those actions as you clock out of work, more than ready to relax, but less than capable of with how much you've left to resolve. 

Before turning off the computer, you click on your boss's e-mail for a third time today and read it once more.

>> Come to my office as soon as you're done with your shift for the day. I'll be waiting. – Sent from my ayPhone <<

You huff and glance at the pills on your desk. Despite these being given to you by the doctor herself, you're trying not to take them as often as the instructions on the bottle tell you to. You don't want to grow dependent on them, yet -- at the same time -- it's nearly impossible for you to go by your usual routine without having the repercussions of not taking them delay your progress. The side-eyes and looks some of your co-workers offer you on occasion reveal they're not too thrilled by the idea of having someone in your state around, either. Dizziness takes over and your headache worsens; they're enough for your body to finally give in, causing you to stumble out of your desk chair and direct all gazes on you.

Breathe in, breathe out.

It's just as impossible trying to ignore everyone, and it's even more difficult trying to stand up without making a complete fool of yourself.

Breathe in, breathe-

A hand's offered out to you; you accept it, yet you refuse to look at the person until you're back to your feet.

When you do look up, you recognize who the person is in an instant. It's the same man Sans had taken a picture with the day you first met. His hair looks different, but his face and clothing style remain the same. His hand stays holding yours until you assure him you're capable of standing straight again, and even then he still has his doubts. A subtle frown shows on his visage, fueled by concern.

"Are you alright, or should I call someone?" he asks, forehead creasing. "That fall looked pretty serious."

"I'm alright," you reply, managing a smile. You're still dizzy, the headache has only grown worse, and having people still looking in your direction doesn't help much with any of that, either. Even so, having him by your side along with a few other, approachable co-workers helps with bringing you back down to earth and allows you to find some more stability before going to meet with your boss. 

"Excuse me, (L/N), but…"

You turn to the voice to see a woman -- tall, pale-skinned, and dark-haired -- offering you your phone. It takes some time, but you're able to recognize her as one of the few co-workers you spent your lunch break with before Frisk went missing. She's as professional as ever, and her formality still shows subtly through speech, yet it doesn't erase how warm and genuine her tone sounds. "Your phone broke with the fall." She pulls her hand back as soon as you have the device in your hold; her body language reveals she has a hunch in terms of just how 'alright' you really are, and what a twice-broken phone in less than a year could do to your current, physical and mental state alike. "It seems like it still works though, since it was ringing just a minute ago."

"Thank you." You turn it on to view a cracked screen. The update Alphys gave it appears to have made it more durable, based on how minor the damages are compared to the first time it fell. You're capable of unlocking it and even checking your notifications to notice you've got a few unread messages from Brenda and Frisk's school, coupled with a missed call from Sans. That last one is harder to take in. He already knew what hour you clocked out, and he had enough common sense and decency not to call you unless it was an emergency -- unlike Brenda, who didn't really know how to read the room, and Frisk's school, which called only when it was absolutely necessary. "I, uh…" You're not sure on what to do first. Brenda could be easily set aside with what she did during your lunch break, but the same couldn't be said for everything else.

Breathe in, breathe out.

You flinch at the sudden sensation of needles on your forehead and a dizziness so strong and wild, it makes your stomach far too queasy for you to manage with. Still, you combat that feeling by grabbing some gum from your belongings, taking a few, and chewing them all at once. The sharp taste and scent of mint helps wash away nausea, yet the dizziness persists.

"Do you want us to take you home?" the man from earlier asks, sounding more concerned than before. Meanwhile, the woman approaches you with some water, one you accept and drink as quickly as it falls in your hands. They both help sit you down on a different desk chair -- one without wheels to prevent you from falling over again. Most have left, while some stay and try to offer more aid. Your boss stands by the exit, arms crossed, stance firm, and face hard to read with how bad your symptoms have turned. "Or maybe accompany you to the bus stop, at least? You shouldn't drive in these conditions."

"It's…"

Your eyes fall on your phone again, tempted to make a decision.

With your priorities now changed to the subject of your health, you set Frisk's school aside with the knowledge they're with Toriel at this hour and forget about the meeting with your boss, aware she's already seen you from a distance. Only his name remains; truthfully, you'd rather limit how much time you spent with him, knowing what the opposite did to your heart and mind alike. You hesitate and stare blankly for a short while before you click on his missed call. One tap and two rings is all that's needed for you to reach him. It takes a second for you to answer back at him, half as much as it takes for your hand to stop shaking and for your voice to gain a better semblance of strength. It's too late to hang up now -- and his call could likely be an emergency -- so you continue forward with it.

"You don't sound too great. Everythin' okay?"

"About that…"

You share some words with him and refuse to tell him of your situation until he gives you his own reason for calling you at this hour.

"...Why did you call me?"

"It's about Frisk, but it ain't an emergency or anythin' -- it's good news, actually."

"Then why did y-"

"Listen, I don't mean to be harsh or nosy, but you sound awful right now. I can give you all the answers you need later, but could ya tell me what's wrong?"

You heave a small breath and look at the time, along with the hour of his missed call. He made it around eleven minutes past the end of your shift, so it wasn't exactly interrupting your job, but you're not sure how to interpret his call and the fact it was his first occasion calling you so close to your work schedule. Even if you were overthinking it, you didn't want to overlook anything, either. And then again, the state you're in isn't really the best for you to be questioning every little thing about your relationship with him -- at the moment, of course. "I feel sick. Kind of similar to that day at the hospital." You decide to be earnest, regardless of how dry your throat feels and how fast your heart goes. "I, well…"

"Want me to pick you up?"

Your ears turn hot while your hands do the opposite. "Y- Yeah…" Your chest tightens and your words grow faint, until you continue with, "I need your help, teddy bear."

"Teddy bear?" he asks, chuckling.

"You're calling me puddin' now, aren't you? You're a teddy bear in my eyes, then."

"I wonder why."

You smile.

"...See you in a bit?"

"'Course. I should be there in ten minutes max."

"Thank you."

With that, you say your farewells and hang up.

Now left to wait, you put your phone away, pick up the rest of your belongings, and stay with the company of your two co-workers as you make it to the exit. Your boss is still waiting next to it, yet she steps aside as do other people standing nearby, providing you with space to pass by. She says nothing, so you stop for a second, only to have her nod for you to carry on walking.

"Come to my office as soon as you recover, (L/N)."

That's the only thing she says as the door closes, leaving you with one co-worker by your left and the other by your right, both waiting in case you were to fall over again.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Chapter Text

The air conditioner paired up with the sound of the rain against the windshield and the wheels against the wet road quell and soothe both your stress and nausea alike; drowsiness replaces them and allows you to relax with a sigh. It feels odd to have someone driving while you're resting at the back, though there's not much you can do about it. The drag of your steps as you tried to climb into the car even with the help of your co-workers had been sufficient for Papyrus to insist you laid down and for Sans to agree with him. The latter's driving remains slow and careful throughout, strikingly different compared to how he usually was when handling his own vehicle. You assume he's doing it for your sake, until a faint melody you once believed to be coming from the radio turns loud enough to make the car's windows boom and vibrate.

A cheery beat floods your ears, and -- when you sit up straight -- you can see there's what looks like a parade taking place right in the middle of the street. Large tents, plastic ponchos, and colourful umbrellas help shield against the ongoing rain. There's a flower float with Frisk's face on it, along with a cat-dog hybrid standing on top of it, clad in a student uniform and waving a flag with a presumably newly-opened school's logo stamped on it. You recognize the monster from one of the few unbelievable tales -- now facts -- Frisk had told you about, though you can't exactly bring yourself to take in the oddity of that sight. Seeing Temmies walking around and near the float isn't the strange thing, but -- rather -- the fact that there's an entire choir of them marching forward along the streets, singing almost effortlessly to the complex tune of the song. Not only that, but there's another float following behind them, this one promoting free education and advertised by a college graduate -- also a Temmie, with the only noticeable difference from the rest being she's wearing a teacher's suit jacket and a pair of glasses.

Just as you hear the car's signal click left, you spot Frisk amongst the small crowd surrounding the second float. They're sporting a bright yellow raincoat, smiling wide, and with their hand held tight by Toriel's, who stays behind while they wave back at all the Temmies and passerby waving at them. Some drivers stop to take in the scenery while others drive by quickly; what sends alarms off in your head is realizing how exposed Frisk is to the public and how little protection you notice around them.

"Wait," you call out, word blurted. "What's…" Your eyes fix on them and how calm, happy, and carefree they seem regardless of those dangers. A pang of jealousy makes its way to your chest when you see they encourage Toriel to join them, bringing her out of the shadows and into the spotlight. "What's going on?" You try to shake those feelings aside, yet you can't help the persistent and bitter emotion that comes with knowing Toriel had played a major, supportive role in one of Frisk's biggest journeys. She'd been their aid for almost two entire months -- a time when you could only work yourself down to the bone, and stress and cry over your loss, neither of which helped much at the end of it all.

"That was supposed to be one of the surprises, but well…" His voice sounds tense -- as if he's read right through you. "But with what happened, well-"

"It's… It's okay."

You try to calm yourself down.

He didn't need to say anything else.

It wasn't his fault, just as it wasn't Toriel's or anybody else's. You'd refused to take the medicine specifically prescribed for you, and that resulted in you having to occupy a busy friend for no reason other than purposely neglecting something you were supposed to adhere to for the betterment of your health. Toriel was watching over Frisk as she so promised. On a similar note, Papyrus had been more than kind enough to offer you the back seat of his car for you to rest in while you made it somewhere to eat after dropping him off where he needed to be. He accepted the risks of running late simply to agree with Sans on picking you up from work, and he even rejected using your own vehicle to keep it protected from the rain.

What you didn't comprehend was why none of the monsters informed you about this earlier than today.

"I understand this was meant to be a surprise, but…" Your tone falters, though you clear your throat to regain strength. "But why didn't you ask for my permission first -- before letting Frisk take part in something like this?" You stop for a moment. "I- I'm not against it, but after what happened at the bus, I…" 

You grab your knees and squeeze them, preventing yourself from getting emotional. 

"I fear for their safety." You swallow hard, feeling nausea returning. "If things were different, I wouldn't mind, but they're not. The Surface is too dangerous for them now." Reluctance makes your chest hurt. "I'm not seen as a good parent by many, and then there's that whole thing with CPS and Frisk's custody, and... And now my health, too." You huff and take a breather. "There's just so many things I'm afraid will go wrong, that I… I-"

A familiar warmth covers your face; two hands slip around your waist.

"Easy now," the eldest of the two says. "Else you're gonna end up faintin' again," he adds, well-mannered humour tracing his sentence.

You hold on tight and shudder at the feeling of his face pressing against your collarbones. His head stays there while you settle down; his hands -- conversely -- run up and down your back, attempting to further calm your stress. No other words are said as he remains that way.

At that, you continue with, "I'm afraid of them being this out in the open, a- and even more when I can't be there for them." 

You let him go and stare right at him, eager to set things straight. 

"It's amazing you're celebrating Frisk's achievements in such a wonderful way, b- but..." A smile shows on your face, conflicted with reluctance you can't avoid and a bitterness you try to shake off. "But I'm their parent, Sans," you add, words strained. "I… I've only known you for a few months, and yet," you say, hesitating, "and yet… You're like this with me. I don't understand how you and others can be this way, s- so quick to trust and befriend, but… I can't be that way. Everything's going too fast, and I need a little more time -- until I figure out what actions I should take as a parent." You grab his hand and squeeze firm at it, smiling again afterwards, a bit more honest than before. "I'm eternally grateful for everything so far, but… Please don't forget I'm still Frisk's main guardian, e- even after all that." Notwithstanding, your smile doesn't last long. "Maybe I'm bitter, or maybe I really do have the right to feel angry about this, but either way... I need to be careful." A pause and a breath. "And I acknowledge I'm not the best parent, but… But I still need to prioritize Frisk's safety before everything else."

Sans nods and squeezes your hand back. "I'll let others know about this, too -- If that's alright with you, 'course."

Your smile returns. "That would be nice."

"Would you feel better knowing there's a protective barrier surrounding the parade?" Papyrus intervenes, helping ease out the mood. 

He's now sitting behind the wheel, replacing Sans while he stays with you by the back seat. His driving is much more careful, yet his speed is quicker now that the parade's left more space for him to pass through. "We haven't turned a blind eye to this situation either," he says, looking at you from the rear-view mirror. "Frisk's safety is just as important as their happiness!"

You look to his side and later at the parade, staring more closely to notice the reason for Frisk's raincoat still being intact is a barrier similar to Sans's magic, though of a different colour compared to his.

"We were going to inform you after you clocked out of work, but…"

You let out a chuckle -- more defeated than anything else. "I apologize for that, then." You bring a hand to the back of your neck and rub at it. "I've been... reckless, as of late."

"Why's that?" he asks, sounding just as intrigued as Sans looks.

"I haven't been taking care of myself like I should. If I were, things wouldn't be like this. I... I would've been healthy, and Sans would've told me about this. I was irresponsible with my health, and now I'm bothering others to help me with something that could've been avoided."

Your confession is followed up by a sharp inhale and a shudder as you then add, "I haven't done anything to change how many hours and days I work every week, now that I don't need to do that as much, and…" You hesitate. "And I haven't been taking the doctor's orders that seriously, either." Your hands return to your knees, where you squeeze tight enough to almost hurt yourself in the process. "I don't want to grow dependent on them -- the medicines prescribed to me. I'm… I'm afraid of them changing who I am, and… And I just don't want to risk the possibility of affecting Frisk because of this, either."

Sans grabs your attention by holding your hand again, more careful than when you went to squeeze at his. "You should let the doctor know. If you're scared of what that stuff'll do to you, the best you can do's ask her about it." He lets go, giving you space to breathe. "She could keep your doubts in mind, and maybe tell you to visit her if that new treatment does you more harm than good with time."

You don't acknowledge you've made it to Papyrus's stop until you see him set the shift on parking. The cheery music's now fainter, and the parade can still be seen when you look back. The only difference is the change in scenery, as you now stand in front of what looks like a culinary university, large, tacky, and colourful banners promoting the acceptance of the monster population into their campus. "I need to go now, but…" He smiles, almost as bright as the sun shining behind the rain clouds. "We can discuss more later, if you'd like!"

You smile back and wave goodbye; he steps outside after that and walks off, leaving Sans to give you one final glance before going back to the front seat.

While he adjusts, you observe Papyrus from a distance, who's now making his way to the line at the entrance gates of the university.

"So…"

At that sound, you face the mirror and meet Sans's gaze.

"Where to?" he asks. "And don't say home, 'cuz I know you ain't eaten yet."

"What's easiest for you," you reply, fixing your posture. "You've already done enough."

He stays parked to turn to your side. 

"Doesn't mean we can't talk more about it," he says, "It's your right as a parent to set boundaries and all that, but you really do need to take better care of yourself. Not just for Frisk's benefit, but for yourself, too." He sighs, turns back to the wheel, and grasps it tighter, continuing after with, "And I acknowledge I also failed to do my part, 'cuz -- like you said it yourself -- you shoulda known about this stuff sooner than today. Surprise or not, I coulda hinted at it. I promised I'd keep you informed, after all." Recognition flashes in his irises, and he stops for a minute. "That being said, we've gotta finish up the rest of that tour soon -- It's been a while."

"Don't remind me, teddy bear." You grin and slump on your seat, huffing afterwards. "There's so much stuff to do, I don't even know where to start."

"Tell me about it." He lets a broad smile show through and spares a quick glance at the mirror to wink at you. "Wouldn't really complain over another day like the one at the hotel."

You look away and hide your grin, feeling it widen. "...I'll keep that in mind."

“So,” the skeleton says, hands slipping under the table. An awkward stiffness overcomes his shoulders, and his gaze takes a while to meet with yours. “You heard about it from her first, huh?”

You gulp some water, needing to cool off. 

“Yes,” you reply, grabbing the medicine out of your belongings. The headache’s still going strong, even after having ended work an hour ago. “Are you really working an office job now? ...What about your other job?” Catching on to how invasive you’re being, you take another sip to bring the pills down and breathe in deep. “Sorry if it seems like I’m being nosy, but… I just want to know if you quit selling hot dogs because of me.” It’s a strange sentence no matter how you look at it, and even more so when you consider the on and off romantic relationship you share with the monster; or to put it bluntly: a friend with benefits -- or a man-friend, as your godmother had so accused him of. “I… I feel like I’m responsible for this, so I’d really like to know.”

Sans grins, takes his drink, and swirls it around. “And that’s exactly why I didn’t wanna tell you yet.” He sets it down and breaks eye contact with you to retrieve something from his suitcase. When he finds the item, he places it on the table, revealing a yellow folder about as thick as the menu left beside you, open to display an array of desserts, one you'd tried the evening before you stayed with him at the hotel, and the other you had today as a way to make an impromptu meeting with him about what happened earlier with Brenda's own fair share of invasiveness. “I know it seems way too coincidental, but I really am workin’ in an office now.”

You pick up the folder, set it in front of you, and keep a hand over it.

“It’s about that thing Tori wants to talk about with you.” He tugs at his jacket’s sleeve; that sight makes you take in the oddity of his looks right now: wearing a suit and tie. He’s like a whole other person today. The main two things that remind you he’s still the same as before are his low voice and mellow personality. Even his posture and body language are different, as if to match with the formality of his attire. “Open it,” he adds, facing your eyes again. “It’ll kinda spoil the surprise she has for you, but I think I owe you a better explanation after what happened today."

You consider his words and eye him for a moment. While he has a more proper posture, the monster’s the same one you met months ago. He’s still himself -- formal wear or not. “It’s… It's alright,” you say, smiling. “I’ll wait until Saturday.”

Tension seems to let him go, yet he still replies with, “You can open it, really. Tori said it was fine, and that she could use the extra time this saves up to take you somewhere with her.”

“...Is it really okay?” You pull your hand back from the folder, emphasizing your words.

Sans nods, sighing the rest of his rigidity away. “Go ahead.”

Doing as told, you tear it open as carefully as you’re capable of, preventing potential damage to the documents waiting inside. From there, you retrieve a single sheet of paper first, its texture rough and giving out at being far more important than all the other files found under it. You turn it around. The words ‘Frisk (L/N)’ and ‘student’ instantly pair up and click into your mind. There’s a school under Toriel’s name written down, along with a print of its logo and motto -- the former you recognize from the parade. 

“I…”

You can’t find the proper words to say to him. It worsens when you decide to take a peek at another document, seeing your name right in the middle. It's not as thick as the previous paper, but it still holds potential for a new future. Besides Toriel's stamp of approval and a small paragraph stating the terms, a single, empty line waits for you at the bottom. Your signature's the only thing missing for the agreement to be made.

“This is…” You shudder out a gasp, almost forgetting to breathe.

The skeleton breaks the ice, saying, “Tori’s school finally got approved, and she was thinking of havin' you and Frisk in it.” You face to his side, holding back a flinch when you notice he’s moved closer to you; the table helps keep some distance between you, fortunately. “Whaddya say?” he asks. “You don’t have to answer right away, but… Just know the offer’s up, and that we see you guys as a family.”

You hoist yourself over the table and reach out for a hug, using that to replace any words you could possibly direct to the monster in front of you. He returns it, maintaining his hold on you until you break it apart -- a bit complicated to do when you notice you’re letting yourself get sentimental again. That allows your mind to drift back to the past and the more recent memory of Brenda’s visit.

“Thank you...” Your words come off in a murmur, lacking anything to say even now. 

You sniffle to restrain the emotions forming up inside, from disbelief and contentment, to melancholy and excitement. Were this a movie and were you on closer terms with the monsters, you would’ve imagined kissing the one in front of you in the sheer spur of the moment. Unresolved tension and personal limitations team up to delay any progress of that kind with him. “So you... I take it you’re in charge of keeping finances in order while her school finally opens?” you ask, changing the topic. You need time to think -- just like he’d mentioned. Having Frisk study in Toriel’s school didn’t seem like a bad choice if you were going to be paying for it, and if it would help bring more word out about her school. You working there was a wholly different story, finding the offer a bit too good to be true. It wasn't because of the goat lady, but rather due to it feeling like you were straight-up taking advantage of her and all the other monsters’ kindness. 

“Precisely,” he replies, grinning. 

His expression freezes up, and it’s only when he sits back down that it loosens. The proximity left between you after the hug's kept itself present without you acknowledging it by full. “I can work the numbers fast, so that way Alphys can focus more on plannin' out the structure and how science class will be laid out, since we all wanna leave things runnin' well before we can start employin' any other monsters.” He meets your eyes again and winks. “And of course, any cute human who’s willing to help us out.”

You glance away, feeling your face turn warm. “I'll… I’ll think about it.” Then, you look back to him; a question pops into your thoughts. “But what service could I provide you with? I've only got an Associate's in Business with what, well... happened in the past.”

“You say that like it’s nothing," he replies, chuckling. “You could easily take up three different positions with those preparations you've got.” Then, he sits back and takes the check when a bunny waitress arrives with it. “You’ll see what I mean when you talk with Tori this Saturday. Can’t really keep spoilin’ the surprise for you anymore.”

Beat to it, you put your wallet away and shift on your seat. “Alright,” you say, taking the folder with you. “But could I still make it up to you somehow? I know Brenda can be a bit, well... tough to handle, so it's only fair for me to do this."

“I’m perfectly fine meeting up like this. And she came by right as I was about to clock out, so I’d tell you it’s no big deal, but…" He trails off to stare at you, done with paying up. "If this's a crafty excuse for us to keep on hangin' out, then I'm all on board with it, puddin'."

Chapter Text

Knock-knock.

However common, the sound makes you jolt. You stop everything you're doing to check on your schedule, needing to consult with it first to better establish yourself into reality. It takes a few pages and some seconds of reading for you to determine you don't expect any visitors today.

Knock-knock.

"One moment," you shout; stress spikes as you fail to wrap things up quicker, having to bring the stew into a boil before turning it off.

You're not sure what to anticipate from the one waiting at the door, nor why it's worrying your thoughts as much as it is. A knock was nothing to be afraid of, as wasn't receiving a surprise visit if you were to consider how tidy your home was and how up-to-date you were with your responsibilities. Regardless, the sound of the door opening sends all meditating techniques aside and panic replaces your search for serenity and reasoning. You rush off to the living room and get ready to face whoever's there, though not without letting that alert state show through your posture and the way you hold on tight to the knife you used for cutting the vegetables. 

"Who's-"

Warmth leaves your body the second you see who the person is; the knife almost falls, yet the visitor rescues it by its handle and gives it back to you afterwards. Your offensive stance vanishes and you find yourself incapable of storing the weapon away without making yourself seem like an anxious mess. The man stares at you throughout -- making matters worse, no doubt.

"G- God, I'm sorry!" you blurt out, frowning. "I thought you were-"

"I've had worse welcomes into strangers' homes," Bubbles says, remaining unfazed. "Though that still doesn't excuse the… oddity of your actions." He greets Frisk -- now closing the door of the living room -- with a nod and a smile. He then takes a small step forward and closer to you, cornering you in place without doing much about it. "Is there something wrong? You appear different from the first time we met."

You gulp tension away and attempt a smile. 

"It's been a rough couple of months, so I've grown... worried about bad things happening," you reply, taking a breath. "N- Not even those two months without Frisk were as scary as these new changes. Back then, I had little to lose -- I'd already lost my own child; there wasn't much left around for me to keep living for. No reason for it. Frisk wasn't with me anymore, and… And I destroyed all my other relationships, so -- in the end -- I was alone and I didn't have anywhere to go." You huff and follow it up with a shudder. "But now… Now I've got plenty to lose and barely any ideas on how to prevent that from happening. I don't want to lose the progress I've made until now, and I… I don't want to keep screwing up so much, either."

"You should seek some sort of counseling, if so." 

He takes a step back and sits on the couch when Frisk offers him to. 

You copy the man's actions, choosing the recliner opposite to his seat to maintain eye contact with him. 

"There's a fine line between fear and paranoia, and I believe you're crossing the latter now," he adds, frowning. "Or do you consider it normal to come running all the way from the kitchen to the living room, pointing a knife at me -- and looking as on-edge as you were just a moment ago?" He stops for a minute. "I understand you're being cautious, and that you're worried over Frisk opening the door to anyone who knocks on it, but your reaction just now was much different from the first day we met -- in a few ways positive, but in most ways not."

"I… I'll try to find some help, then," you reply, sighing. You then bring a hand to your forehead and rub at your temples, brow creasing in the process. "But... May I ask what's the reason for your visit? I thought our next meeting would be by the end of the year," you stop yourself at the feeling of being impolite, "...Not that I mind you visiting! I just… I thought I had more time to research more about monsters."

He keeps quiet for what feels like an eternity, heightened by the loud ticktock of the clock hanging nearby. "I can answer, but only if you promise me you'll be true to your word, and if you provide thorough evidence the next occasion we meet -- both with your counseling and research."

"I already have some on my research," you say, smiling. "Could I show it to you?"

"You should," he replies, impassive.

"E- Excuse me for a moment, then."

He nods.

Nodding back, you walk off to your room and clear your throat on the way there in an attempt at gaining some strength. You can feel your resolve debilitating with each second, likely product of the surprise visit, but undoubtedly influenced by factors beyond it. The bunny notepad gifted to you was still a work in progress. You'd barely just managed to cover half of the ten main people Frisk was associated with. Toriel, Papyrus, and Sans were the three you'd learned most about, while Undyne and Alphys had been left behind with the whirlwind you'd been pulled into since the monsters arrived at the Surface. It's difficult to admit you'd rather go back to how things were before Frisk ended up at the Underground, yet -- at the same time -- there's plenty of things that outweigh that desire, varying from the help and friendship both Toriel and Papyrus offered you, to the 'friends with benefits' sort of relationship you shared with the latter's older brother. 

You brush those thoughts aside when picking up the notepad; priorities are rearranged as you step out and make way back to the living room.

No matter what, you weren't about to lose your child simply for allowing them to keep spending time with a group known to have hurt them first. Something had to be done, even if it involved you becoming an antagonist. As lovely as the monsters were and are, there are some sacrifices you're not quite ready to make yet -- however selfish some of these make you feel.

The routine of breathing in and out is kept in mind as you arrive at the living room, where -- true to his word -- Bubbles is still at. He's still sitting on the couch, but at a different spot as he leaves space for Frisk, who's showing him the hundred-piece puzzle they're more than halfway through finishing. A smile can be seen on his face, and he doesn't have his sunglasses on anymore, making him appear much more approachable now. That -- however nice of a sight to see -- changes when he looks up from the puzzle and stares down at you, smile changing to a firm line and eyes narrowing when meeting yours.

"Is that all your evidence?" he asks, gaze going further down to stare at the bunny notepad in hand. "Forgive me for saying this, but I'm afraid that doesn't seem like much, at first glance."

It isn't.

Bile forms in your throat and you're urged to squeeze the notepad tight, too anxious to let your muscles relax and too nauseous not to grow irate. "It's possible it might not be much," you confess, frowning. You then bite on your lower lip to prevent your voice from lowering. "I've had a tough time deciding, and…" You sigh and loosen your shoulders afterwards. "And then other things got in the way, but... Judging by the situation, I should wait until you ask me what these things are, shouldn't I?

"That would be preferable," he replies, gaze and mouth softening. "Care to place that notebook on the table? I'll only need a few minutes to look through it."

"Of course."

With that final agreement, you approach the coffee table and set the evidence down. An instinct to flee from the scene while he reads overcomes your senses, though you remind yourself of the severity of the situation and what lies ahead. You sit back down on the recliner and tap your foot as you wait for him, an action you can't bring control over with how shaky your entire body is. Even so much as keeping yourself in one place feels like a challenge you're not exactly ready to overcome presently. Regardless, you comply and distract yourself by looking at Frisk, who's still finishing with their puzzle.

"It's been months, and yet this is the only information you've found?" Bubbles asks, fixing the sunglasses now resting on his head as he brings the notebook closer to him. "There's hardly ten people on this list," he adds, face scrunching as he reads through the list again. "Just what have you been up to this entire time?"

A combined sense of guilt and embarrassment take over, causing an overall inability to stare at him, already hard to do with the intensity of his gaze. "I've been touring the Underground," you begin, bracing yourself with a breath. "I was also hospitalized for a while, and then there was some... personal trouble with my ex-husband the day after I, well…" Your face burns at the thought. "Spent the night at a hotel with, uh… monster number three." 

Bubbles eyes the list again and stops immediately. 

"Serif?" he asks, showing you the notebook and pointing at his name. He then looks back to it and skips through a few pages. A subtle curve shows up on his mouth, almost making him appear as if he's smiling. "I assumed as much, judging by how much there's written about him." Sighing, he closes the notepad and stares at you again. "But spent the night in a literal sense, or-"

"Literal!" you exclaim, too stressed to bear listening until the end. "We're not dating, but…"

"You wish you were?"

"Uh… Kinda?"

His neutral expression changes to a subtle frown. "That doesn't answer my question, unfortunately."

"I'm not sure," you elaborate, huffing as you furrow your brow and grimace, headache returning. "We've… We've called each other nicknames a couple of times, and we almost kissed once, but, well…"

"Wasn't he the one troubling you the most?" he asks, frown growing more prominent. "While I do not wish to question you over who you befriend, this is the same man you informed me about a few months ago, who -- quote: 'threatened Frisk with death and did very little to help them out in the Underground'." He stops to breathe in deep, huffing just as loud after. "Can you sincerely admit to me you've developed a crush on him ever since then -- cross your heart?" he adds, forehead wrinkling and hands folding over the notebook. "Has he shown any repentance over his actions for you to be forgiving him so easily?"

"That's exactly why ren's not dating him officially yet!" Frisk intervenes, standing up from their seat like a lawyer would do when defending their client. "They-"

"Please, do not interrupt us. It's for your own good."

"But it's true," they state, persisting. "I-"

"It's been roughly three months since I last gave this home a visit, and yet I've seen little progress made with the only task I assigned to you," he says, standing up straight. "You were meant to determine and establish which monsters are safe to have around Frisk, and which ones aren't, but -- so far -- the only information you've given me's going stagnant with how long it's taken you to make a decision."

You're the one to stand up next, against letting yourself feel weaker.

"That's what I've been doing, even if it looks like I haven't made any progress," you reply, fists clenching. Your heart races faster with each moment that passes, making you seek some calm through the reminder of how fragile your current physical state is. "I- I've toured half of the Underground with that same man, I've settled an agreement with Toriel as to how much time she's allowed to spend with Frisk, and I'm... I'm trying to understand number three's intentions by-"

"By dating him."

"Please, let me finish."

Bubbles chuckles and crosses his arms, staring down at you afterwards. "Alright." He sighs and loosens up as he massages the bridge of his nose. "Then, would you be kind enough to explain to me what you've learned about him so far? And just why haven't you made a decision yet, if you happen to know him that well?"

"He's, uh…" You hesitate with a frown. "He's difficult to understand, but he... He means well, and I trust his intentions better these days."

"This is the same man you were accusing of being a hypocrite the first day you met him."

"And now it's been months, sir." You harrumph when noticing the sudden rise in your tone. "I've learned enough now to know he doesn't mean any harm."

"And to what extent would you say your trust towards him goes?" he asks, uncrossing his arms and softening his gaze. "Is it enough for you to accept his and Toriel's offer of having you and your child in that new school? Or enough to still hesitate when asked about the nature of your relationship with him?" His stern mouth turns to a frown, revealing whole-hearted concern. "How can you trust him enough for one thing, but not the other -- if one is much more weighted than the other?"

You take a second to think and calm down some more. His questions make rounds about your mind as you weigh the pros and cons of not only your relationship with monster number three, but with everyone else, as well. Finding an answer proves difficult the more you stay quiet to reflect on the heaviness of both sides. Either way, consequences would soon follow, and you were required to act fast -- judging by Bubble's words. If you wanted to let Frisk keep their relationship with the monsters and for you to maintain your own, you needed to speed things up more than you would want to, given how much willpower you have left.

"Because even then, they're still different things," you speak up, breaking the silence. "Accepting that job offer and letting Frisk go to Toriel's school isn't the same as opening my heart out to someone new, when I screwed up big time seven years ago with a different guy."

Bubbles takes the notepad and gives it back to you. Then, he fixes his attire and looks at the time. His expression is hard to read with how serious his eyes and mouth have become, though his calm tone reveals he's neutral over the situation when he replies with, "Who you date is none of my concern, so long as it is done with another consenting adult, and so long as it doesn't bring any harm upon Frisk. The same goes for your friendships, but time's running out, and I need you to start making decisions soon." He stops to slip his sunglasses back on, masking his gaze, smoothened by sympathy for what seems like a split second -- if not less. "It's either that, or I'll have to make them for you." He sighs. "And as I'm sure you know, these aren't the best for you or your child. It's what the department requires for the safety of Frisk, above anything else."

Chapter Text

Chapter Title Reference

did he give you an exact date?

Unfortunately, no.

At first, I had at least until the end of the year, but…

CPS wants this resolved quicker than he thought.

guessin' you need to finish tourin' the underground first then, right?

Yes.

Would it be possible the day after tomorrow?

Or just… sometime this weekend?

I can go by myself, but…

Asgore won't allow that unless I'm with someone else.

Says I shouldn't be walking so far and so long alone if I haven't recovered yet.

you don't need to go alone, either way.

be it my job or not, I still wanna help out.

so the day after tomorrow's fine with me, bud.

we can discuss those details better when we drive over to tori's school tomorrow.

Are you sure?

And…

Does that 'we' imply you'll be picking us up?

100%

but yeah, i'll drive you guys there.

and pick up paps on the way, too.

it's easier for all four of us.

Mhm.

don't believe me?

Oh, I believe you.

I just don't think that's the only reason why you're picking us up, when I already have the address.

so what's the other one?

Don't get cocky, Serif.

I'm not gonna type that out.

It's a godsend Frisk will be with us, too.

'Cause I sure don't trust being alone with you anymore.

inna bad way?

Nah.

niiice.

pick you guys up tomorrow, then?

Yes.

We'll see you tomorrow.

And thank you in advance.

∆ Sticker | Happy Cartoon Bunny™ waving goodbye ∆

"You've changed, Sans."

He ignores that comment to view (Y/N)'s last two messages again.

While he doesn't know why that particular sticker bothers his mind so much, a few scrolls up to revise his chat history reveal this is the first time they've shown any sort of informality or spontaneity in their typing. They came off cold in their texts, though -- based on how they acted outside of a chat app -- that wasn't their intention, but more of an automatic way for them to talk with someone they didn't exactly deem trustworthy enough yet. He grins at that thought and feels his face warm up, something he confirms when touching his cheekbone, cold palm contrasting with that heat.

"You're wasting your time with that human," Drunk Bun says, snapping him out of his daydreaming.

They've sat themselves on the bar stool next to him and slam what looks like their tenth can of cheap, off-brand beer against the counter, crunching it down into more than half its size. He doesn't know how long they've stood there or why he's lost this much awareness of his surroundings. The bar's practically empty and calm now compared to before, though there's loud music blaring from the jukebox, playing an already overplayed song on repeat. There's no excuse for his distracted mind other than having lost himself while texting, so he admits that fault with partial sourness, against accepting he's that smitten with them.

"You're changing for the worse," his company adds, narrowing their eyes at him. "Every time we come here to catch up, you mention something stupid about them, or just text the whole evening away with them. I... I've never seen you worry so much about someone so inconsequential." They scoff and cross their arms tight. "I may understand you caring after Frisk as a way to repay them for rescuing us, but that other human is completely useless. They've done absolutely nothing remarkable beyond creating a huge scene at that bus you were both on."

"Being harassed by a rando and faintin' after's them causin' a scene?" Sans asks, quirking an eye socket.

"Oh, screw off, bone boy -- You know what I mean. They've brought you nothing but trouble and needless responsibilities!" The bunny grits their teeth and slams their hand over the table, dragging eyes to their side. "I'm betting you can't go a day without texting them or without you doing something for them."

"You need to-"

Beep-beep.

The phone is snatched from his hands just as quick as that noise rings.

"Give that back."

"No." They keep the phone right above him, taking advantage of his shorter height. "Your fault for not putting a lock on it."

Drunk Bun scoots away and holds the phone tight as they fumble with it. Then, they stop to look at what he assumes is another text message. A grimace shows on their face and they grasp the device tight, enough to make the screen complain and warn them over the pressure they're exerting against it. "Now this is beyond pathetic, Sans," they comment, letting out a loud, burst laugh. "Is this seriously the one you're sacrificing your entire personality for?" They give him his phone back, though not before hesitating when it's time to let go. "That human is-"

"Gimme a sec."

His attention falls on the picture displayed on screen, revealing Frisk and their parent posing in it. The adult wears a suit and tie while the child has Toriel's school uniform on. The former's pose appears forced and awkward while the latter seems to be the reason the picture was taken with how excited they seem about their outfit. 

Frisk wanted me to show you this.

It's what we'll be wearing for tomorrow!

There's a three-minute interval between that and the next message.

I know classes still haven't started there, but… They wanted to wear it, so I joined them by trying on something special for, well…

That job offer you told me about.

I don't know if I'll accept or not yet, but…

Thank you for the opportunity, and for believing in me.

∆ Sticker | Happy Cartoon Bunny™ giving a thumbs-up ∆

"You're grossing me out, honestly. What kind of look is that?"

It takes him a while to react, focus glued on the messages.

"What look?"

"That lovesick look on your face." Tears form on their eyes -- almost abruptly, hadn't their voice shaken right before that. "I- I've been flirting with you for years, and yet you've never once looked at me like that before." They stand up straight, stare down at him, and rest their hands on the table, blinking their tears away throughout. "I've known you for so damn long, and yet you fall for the first human you see up here? I-"

"So that's what this's about," he says, chuckling. "You're-"

"Don't you dare brush everything off as me having a crush on you, Sans." They hiss. "You're not the same as before, and that's as clear as day. You worry a lot more now, and… And you actually seem to care more about other stuff beyond your job and sleeping on it. Y- You-"

"Aren't those good things?"

"Maybe, but your entire personality changing isn't. I liked you better when you were less worked up with stuff that's none of your business." They stop to grab his phone again; a grin breaks the sorrow on their face. "But hey, y- you're just doing your job, aren't you? You should set things straight with that human and remind them you're only with them because Asgore told you to in that agreement letter you gave them."

"Won't work if I flirted with 'em first. Pretty sure they'll see right through my lies."

"Y- You flirted with them first?!"

"Yeah."

He dodges a punch aimed right at his face. 

"Wait-"

They throw a second punch -- this one turning out to be a spoof -- and laugh at the sight of him falling for it; they then toss the phone high over his head after he's finished dodging that fake attack, and aim yet another punch right after.

He salvages the device, though at the cost of taking the blow right on his left eye socket.

"How can you admit that so easily? You're awful!"

"'Cause you're only a close friend. I don't owe you an explanation about who I'm dating, and even less if you're gonna be actin' this way."

Drunk Bun springs at him, only to be held back by the rest of the regulars sitting near the scene, sufficiently fast enough for them not to wrangle Sans in anything major. They struggle and thrash at everyone around, trying to break free, but failing each time. It takes a fully-armored guard dog and a buff bear for them to be fought back into their rightful place, and yet another strong monster for them to let go of a wine bottle they insist on downing when seated.

Grillby intervenes as well by warning them to calm down, unless they want to be kicked out. Meanwhile, Sans turns on the camera and looks at his reflection through it, revealing a faint soreness already forming around his eye socket -- right where his companion had punched at. Being primarily made out of bones brought advantages, but having magical properties often led to him bruising easily. 

Another regular approaches him and offers him a first aid kit, one he brings back to his seat to heal himself there. 

While he takes out an antibiotic and some cotton pads with one hand, he uses the other to busy himself with the messages, against leaving them on read for so long.

no probs.

here at your service. 

frisk looks great, btw.

and you? hot. 😘🔥

awkwardly hot.

hotwkward.

Frisk is reading the replies, you know?

damn.

i mean…

darn.

don't tell 'em i said that.

∆ Audio | 0:46 ∆

He clicks on it to hear Frisk giggling along with their parent commenting they won't. It later continues with them asking if he's alright, specifying what they mean by highlighting a picture, this one sent by him. Blurriness makes up most of it when he clicks on it and zooms in, yet he can identify what looks like his companion from earlier, who'd apparently snapped and sent a photo by accident.

that's a friend o' mine.

they're, uh, kinda tipsy, so they got inna fight with me.

Really?

Are you okay?

yeah, just a lil' sore where they punched at.

What?!

i'm fine, puddin'.

dw about it.

Where's that bar at?

I'm near the mall, so I can drop by if you need anything.

aren't you still shoppin'?

take it easy.

I'm almost done.

Just trying out one more outfit.

can I see?

👀

Sure.

∆ Attachment | 2 images ∆

To his surprise, they're not only posing much more freely now, but they've also made the effort to strike another pose from a different angle. Their outfit is composed of a dark green, semi-formal (suit/dress), fit for a night out. They've gone as far as to edit a wink emoji and some hearts at the corner of one -- the most flirty of the two. 

So...

What do you think?

*jaw drops to floor, irises pop out of sockets accompanied by trumpets, soul beats out of rib cage, awooga awooga sound effect, pulls chain on train whistle that has appeared next to head as steam blows out, slams fists on table, rattling any plates, bowls or silverware, whistles loudly, fireworks shoot from top of head, pants loudly as tongue hangs out of teeth, wipes comically large bead of sweat from forehead, clears throat, straightens jacket, combs skull* ahem, you look real lovely.

*bwushes* Thank uwu kindwy, handswome. I'm vewy fwattewed.

...frisk ain't there anymore, right?

If they wewe, duwu uwu twhink I'd be twyping wike thiws?

faiw poiwnt.

Anyway…

I noticed the changes you made in that copy-paste, and…

You didn't edit the tongue part out.

So…

What that tongue do, baby?

😳

…lick…

...ice cream.

🔥🔥🔥

Ah, that's hot.

Or should I say cold?

And speaking of cold…

I'm gonna get you an ice pack or something.

You should take care of where it's sore, if you don't want it to bruise more.

whatta way to change the subject away from our moment, puddin'.

but uh, thanks in advance.

Anytime, teddy bear.

uwu

owo

"Am I really changin', Grillbs?" Sans asks, emptying his beer in three long gulps. "Be honest with me."

The one questioned takes the empty can from his hands and shakes his head in what looks more like disapproval rather than him answering that question. He first warns the skeleton about getting drunk, and reminds him to stay sober if he wants an answer as well as prevent himself from drunk-texting the source of his lovelorn self. When receiving a promise from him in response, he later answers with a 'no' and that he's still the same whenever he came to visit the bar.

"So I'm only different when I'm talkin' about 'em?"

Grillby nods.

"Inna bad way?"

He shakes his head.

"Then…"

Sans is stopped with a hand over his and faced with a stern look, despite the owner of it having no eyes or mouth.

"If they make you happy, then it's alright for you to show it," a regular states, intervening in the conversation. "You're not a lifeless machine. And nobody's one-dimensional either, so you shouldn't force yourself to act the same, strict way all the time. If you want to be all mushy with that human, then so be it. Aren't you the one who always says stuff like 'nothing really matters; in the end, we'll all die'? What's stopping you now of all times? Where's that hardcore nihilist I've known since years ago?

Sans rubs the back of his neck and huffs.

Clearly, neither the regular nor Grillby understood what he truly meant to say with his questions. He didn't mind his relationship with them, but he also didn't want his old self to be replaced by someone he wasn't, as a result. There were things he didn't want to change about his old self -- things he feared would fade away now that he seemed to be getting into something as complex as a romantic relationship. There were parts of him he needed to keep in case the world were to start over again -- in case something went wrong. He couldn't allow himself to grow soft.

A pat on his shoulder lets him know he's lost himself in those thoughts.

"It's alright to fear change, but don't let that hold you back. If you like that human and they do, too -- Then what's there keeping you from going for it?"

It's not that easy.

Still, he keeps that thought quiet and replies with, "Thanks, but I'll probably have to give that more ti-"

The door of the bar opens to reveal someone new to it, but not so much unknown to Sans, who already finds himself distracted by them. (Y/N) stands in front of the entrance, looking this way and that. Frisk holds on to their hand, while a reusable shopping bag's hung over their parent's arm; a pharmacy's logo and name can be seen stamped on it. The eldest approaches the area with caution, until their child assures them -- once, twice, and then thrice -- they've been to this place before and that it serves other purposes beyond that of providing alcohol and provoking fights. When they look forward, he meets their eyes and tries to glance away quickly, only to be called out by them soon after. They don't take long to smile wide and bright, wave, and -- finally -- approach his side after he waves back at them.

Rather than giving him whatever's in the bag, they instead let go of Frisk's hand, ask them if they want anything to eat, and give them some money when they sign the word 'fries'. Then, they sit on the stool next to his and settle the bag on their lap. "Come closer, and close your eye sockets," they say, still smiling. "It's your left one, right? It looks really sore already."

He nods and tries to ignore the warmth in his soul when they place a hand over his. 

In his favour, they let go of him not long after to disinfect their hands and slip some gloves on when these dry out. 

"I-"

"Shh."

They hold his chin with their hand and graze their fingers against his injury, their touch slow and careful as they apply some antibiotic over and around it. They then slide an eye patch on him and assumedly check around for any more bruises, based on the feeling of their hands grazing against his torso, arms, and neck. "The ice pack's in the bag -- Remember to throw it in the freezer when you get home." They touch his chest again, even more gentle this time. "So..." He notices some hesitance when they pull their hand back. "You're not hurt anywhere else?"

He shakes his head, words caught in his throat.

"Alright, but don't look yet."

Doing as told, Sans waits for whatever comes next. He stays still and stiff, until he feels their lips brush close to his eye socket, where they lay a soft, ticklish kiss at. They do the same with his other one and finish it off by kissing his nose cavity.

"Now you can."

Chapter Text

It's cold and dark.

The ground you're pushed into sinks your body along with it, enveloping most of your limbs into an icy embrace, until the same force that shoved you grabs you by the collar and pulls you up again.

"Look at me, human," a familiar voice says, the only difference in its low tone being how rough, formal, and hostile it sounds.

You open your eyes and blink a few times to regain some sense of where you are and see Sans standing right before you. One hand holds you still by grabbing tight on your shirt and the other keeps him in place as he corners you against a rock wall, just as cold as the ground beneath you. His gaze is as sharp as a knife, and his grip on you -- far too solid for you to even budge under it -- cuts air off your lungs, bringing forth dizziness. It's a struggle to look past the snow and the blur brought by the consistent lack of air, though the one confronting you doesn't allow you to so much as close your eyes again, as if obliging you to stay awake and listen to every word he has to say. "Regrettin' this already? Shoulda listened to Tori if ya didn't wanna end up 'ere with me." He chuckles and loosens some of his hold on you, shoulders drooping as he does so. "I almost feel bad with how plain one-sided this fight's been. Wasn't aware humans could be this weak."

"Wh- What do you mean?" 

Finally having some sense of reality return to you, you read around to view a vast, snowy forest -- similar to Snowdin's pathways. It's all a white, grey, and green landscape, until you look down to see a bit of bright red staining the floor. The gloved hand holding you still is also stained, and -- when you gain full consciousness of where you are -- you notice how sticky your upper lip is and how sore both your nose and cheek feel. Your glasses lay cracked nearby, yet he steps on them when you attempt to pick them up; the snicker that follows when he breaks them spikes ire into both your body and mind. "What... What are we doing back here?" you ask, dour tone making it come off as a demand. "And did you really just punch me? What did I ever even do to you?!"

His grip on you weakens as he bursts into a fit of loud laughter, echoing restlessly against the stark emptiness of your surroundings, the only exception being the rows and rows of pine trees laid about. When he recovers and faces your gaze, you notice it's not the same expression as of the Sans you met back at the train station. Whatever warmth was once present in the white of his irises isn't there any longer, and a vicious, wrathful look overcomes his face. He scoffs and replies with, "The hell? Are ya playin' dumb with me, pal? Or did ya hit your head too hard in the fall?" He grabs you by the collar again and drags you back down on the snow; he then lets go and holds your chin after, forcing you to stare up at him. "Just give it up and turn yourself in, if ya really want this to end quicker. You're wastin' my time 'ere."

"I can't, and I won't, because I really don't understand what you're saying."

"Quit playin' dumb with-"

Gathering all the strength you have left in you, your heart nearly jolts as you stand up and push him away from your side, making him stumble and fall. You straighten your posture, frown, and glare down at him, anger fueling both your bravery and confidence alike. "Stop it. I'm not playing dumb, you- You asshole! What the hell's even wrong with you?!"

He remains impassive throughout and only shows some irritation when he hears someone calling him, person's voice coming from a purple door set nearby, half of it covered by the snow continuing to fall at a quicker speed. The same voice shouts out from it -- more desperate now -- yet he ignores it and proceeds to look at you again. A frigid look stays in his gaze, and not once does it falter, even as you lay waiting -- waiting to see what he plans to do next. 

"You're an adult, aren't ya?" he asks, still on the ground. 

"Well, no duh, Einstein," you snap, followed by a huff. "And why does that matter to you now of all times, anyway?"

The dim glint in his irises shows he has little patience left to deal with you. The person's voice still trying to get him to reason and the thumps they make as they try to break free from the Ruins continue to be ignored. Talking to him feels like attempting to calm an angered stray down, growling at you no matter what you say or do. 

"'Cuz it means you're not someone I should take any damn pity for." He pushes his body off the ground, fixes himself up, and looks at you, grinning after. "A child, I can go a lil' easy on. But what's a person as supposedly mature as you doing 'ere? We're living at peace -- without botherin' anyone up there. But even then, you still have the guts and the nerve to meddle down 'ere and then refuse to cooperate with us when we tell you to." His tone reveals revulsion as he adds, "I can't stand people like you, and I have no clue how and why you ended up in this place, when the path is strictly off limits." He stops to clench his jaw and sneer when he sees you don't intervene, even as he stays quiet for a while. "Isn't the Surface enough for you? Do ya really gotta invade what little land we've got? I'm damn near sick of it, just as I'm sick of you."

"Oh, how dare you," you exclaim, scowl worsening. "I don't know what you're talking about or why you're this angry with me, but I know for certain I don't deserve to be treated this way." You stare straight at him, take a step forward, and cross your arms tight, refusing any further belittlement. "And are you kidding me right now? You're an adult, too -- as I'm sure a lot of you down here are. Don't be such a huge hypocrite, and hold responsibility for your own actions, too!"

"What?" he blurts out, gaze furrowing as he takes a step back. "You really don't know what's goin' on? Or are ya bluffin'?"

You frown and lower some of your guard. Soon enough, more consciousness returns to your mind, and you can acknowledge something new besides the place you're at and how different the monster's acting with you -- along with his current tone. You have a nosebleed for what you assume is a punch on the face, but you don't feel any actual pain. The cold of your surroundings is the same. It's there -- and you can sense it -- but it doesn't really hurt you. 

"Sans…"

You wipe blood off your nose and stare at your hand for a while. 

That's another thing that's not right. There's none of that metallic smell emanating from it, nor does it have a normal colour, either. It's far too red for how long it's been exposed out in the air, and it's still too wet for it to have stopped flowing just as long ago.

"So you… You really don't remember me then, Sans?"

His shock reveals itself through the subtle waver in his irises, though he fights it back in a flash. Whatever weakness he showed with your question vanishes and he returns to his cold, cold stare again. "How the hell do you know my name? Is this a way for you to try escapin' from me?" he says, grinning after. "'Fraid it's already a lil' too late for that, pal. So either you turn yourself in and cut this annoyin' act short, or I'll take your soul myself."

"No." You stand your ground and gather more wit. "I… I still don't understand what's wrong -- and even less what you want from me!"

He shrugs. "Suit yourself, then."

Seemingly out of nowhere, the skeleton summons out a bone, warningly sharp by one end. One flick of colour in one of his irises sends a blue hue across your body, preventing movement. "You're not gonna need that information for where you're goin'." He approaches you again and presses the tip of his weapon against your neck, all while his free hand forces you to look down at him. "Dunno what made ya have a change in heart so sudden, but I ain't complainin'." His grin grows, and a near malicious, satisfied curve forms on its edges; the sight alone delivers a warning in the back of your head. "Just makes this whole situation a lot easier to deal with, in the end."

A long pause follows, though you can't do much about it. Your body's frozen, as so is he. It's as if time's taken an abrupt stop, and what remains is your panicked mind -- busy jumping from one bewildered thought to another.

He finally moves, but only to continue with, "Haven't ya even realized how many mistakes you've made? You're nothing but walking Karma, bud. Just turn yourself in already."

With that, he swings his weapon and aims right at where he'd pressed it against. 

Your eyes close on instinct, and all you can feel is the increasingly harsh cold of the forest; the sudden gusts of wind that follow with it consume you to your core.

. . .

You wake up with a gasp and your hands clinging tight onto someone's arm.

When you fix your glasses, blink through the blur, and see the person's attire is the very same jacket of the one who was quite literally about to end your life a mere moment ago, you jolt away from him with a drowned out shout -- almost a loud curse, hadn't you caught yourself right on time. The reaction alone makes him scoot back and cast a worried glance at you, knit with concern. His expression's warmer now, and -- judging by his subtle frown -- he's troubled as to how to approach you after that, knowing he appeared to be the cause of your scare. It's only when you hear the thumps of the bus against the bumpy road that you realize where you really are and what that whole scenario from earlier ago was: a nightmare likely derived from the social worker's visit, and made more intense by your own, fair share of doubts since first meeting with the monsters. Despite a part of you being comfortable enough with the current monster's presence, there was your mind telling you to be cautious at all times, regardless of your feelings or the effects these had over both your body and heart whenever you hanged out with him.

"...Sorry about that," you say, frowning.

Your head pounds as you try to recollect some sort of memory with regard to what you're doing here. You excuse yourself, take a breath, and bring out your phone, hardly feeling up to having a talk with the one product of your nightmare right now. The first thing that shows up on screen is the last conversation you had with him through text.

tour still up in your plans?

Yes.

Why do you ask?

i was doing some research on what humans aside from you and jerry need for access to the underground.

and now they're askin' for a temporary passport to control visitors down there.

temporary both in the sense that it can only be used four times a month, and needs renovatin' after that.

and in the sense that this's until all monsters move outta the underground.

so far, 70% of our population's rented apartments up here.

around 22% have chosen to stay in their old homes, until those changes start happenin'.

and 8% have already started makin' plans for a new home of their own at different parts of the surface.

So staying at the Underground won't be a choice, then?

nope.

as far as i know, it's gonna be used for research after we've all moved out.

and then it'll likely remain as a tourist attraction when that's over with.

What?!

That's awful!

Is there any way I could help?

can't do much about it, i'm afraid.

if it's for the sake of science, I guess it's kinda worth it.

kinda's the keyword there, though.

but yeah, i'm already feelin' homesick.

and it's only been about three days since i started livin' in an apartment.

...on my own.

Is it still okay for me to go there, then?

I don't want to intrude.

it's alright.

you deserve at least knowin' what your kid went through, don't ya think?

Yes, but…

If it feels like I'd be intruding with personal matters now, then I'm okay with just hearing what you guys have to say, and listening to Frisk's side of the story, also.

You don't have to take me there if you don't want to.

∆ Sticker | How 🌽-y ∆

Hey!

I'm being serious here, Serif.

i know.

but i don't want you to be that way.

'cuz this really ain't much of a big deal.

i can give you that tour today. no problem.

it's people who don't have any relation to the underground who i should be more worried about.

not a parent just wantin' to know the truth.

∆ Sticker | How 🌽-y ∆

Right back at ya.

But…

Thank you, though.

Mushiness aside, I'm grateful for all your help.

Because I'm not sure I'd be able to do everything on my own.

"We're... almost there, aren't we?" you say, words directed at the one next to you. Your hand falls over his and you squeeze gently at it, but not before suppressing a flinch and a tremble when reminded of how wild he'd acted in that nightmare, far more different from the one with you here now. "Are you really sure you're okay with me going back there?" You glance down at him with a stern gaze.

"How many times do I gotta say this, puddin'?" he says, chuckling. "Yeah, it's fine." He winks. "But ask that again, and you're gonna hafta help me move the rest of my stuff out."

You give him a playful side-eye and bite back a smile. "...So, is it really okay?"

"It's gonna be next weekend at nine. Think you can make it?"

"I'll try to."

Regardless of him laughing it off when you do, you end up dwelling way too much over his words and go to the extent of screenshotting a few particular messages from all the ones he'd sent.

Then, you throw it in the group chat made with your newest friends -- one the new male coworker, and the other the female coworker you used to talk more often with before Frisk's journey happened.

∆ Cropped screenshot of a text message, reading: and it's only been about three days since i started livin' in an apartment. ...on my own. ∆

What does this mean?

Why mention that last part?

And why did he also joke about me helping him move out?

S.O.S.

...please?

💁🏻♀️: Are u serious right now?

💁🏾♂️: is he with you?

Yes, I'm texting right next to him, so...

Please don't say anything weird.

💁🏻♀️: U're srsly still doubting ur relationship, even tho it's already been made clear of what he thinks about u?

💁🏾♂️: totally called it!

knew you two had something since day one.

Can you guys please help me out here?

💁🏾♂️: asks the only one of the group who's been actually married before.

C'mon!

💁🏻♀️: Insists the one who dated a living Chad stereotype for years.

∆ 💁🏻♀️ forwarded a message | Cropped screenshot of a text message, reading: and it's only been about three days since i started livin' in an apartment. ...on my own. ∆

💁🏻♀️: Hmmmmmm 🤔🤔🤔

I wonder what the guy who's been flirting with u since 2 months ago and who u've known for almost 4 months now and who u're leading on and on and on and on by not calling him ur boyfriend, even tho he practically is, means to say with that message?? This's a real tough one, I'll say. Totally not like he's made a move with u before or told u he rlly means it now and that he's not playing around, either. We might need Sherlock for this one, I'm afraid.

💁🏾♂️: indeed, good ma'am. 🧐🔎

Please, guys...

What does it mean?

It's been about 7-8 years since I last dated anyone.

And, frankly...

I have no idea what to do anymore.

💁🏻♀️: He wants to 🦴?

💁🏾♂️: ...‘befriend’ you? 😏

STOP.

💁🏻♀️: Next tour? HIS ROOM 😤👌💯

💁🏾♂️: awoooooooo *pant pant pant* 🐺

HEY.

💁🏻♀️: He really said: ...PILF. 😳

💁🏾♂️: **single and ready to mingle PILF. 😳😳

💁🏻♀️: Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers PILF. 😳😳😳

💁🏾♂️: extremely dense, oblivious PILF. 😳😳😳😳

💁🏻♀️: Tsundere, kawaii-desu PILF. 😳😳😳😳😳

GUYS.

I mean it.

He's not about that kind of stuff.

Or at least… It comes off that way.

💁🏻♀️: Rlly?

💁🏾♂️: how so?

It's not in my place to tell you what that means.

So let's just say he's not exactly interested in, uh…

💁🏻♀️: 🔥🌶️ SPICY🌶️🔥 STUFF?

...Yes.

💁🏾♂️: ah, okay.

we get it!

💁🏻♀️: Yeah, totes!

We won't push further on that.

Only he should tell us, when he wants to. And *if* he even wants to.

I've only met him once before, so it's wayyyy more likely he'll feel more comfortable talking about it with @💁🏾♂️, if anything.

But, anyway…

...

OMG THE PARENT OF THE GROUP CAN'T SAY THE WORD FR*CK  LMAO

IS THIS A COOKIE-CUTTER PG GISNEP HALLMART MOVIE OR WHAT?

💁🏾♂️: RIGHT?

HOW PRUDE LOLOLOLOLOL

💁🏻♀️: 🤣🤣🤣

You're bullying me!

💁🏻♀️: Now u noticed?

💁🏾♂️: nah, nah, nah.

this's light and friendly *teasing*.

there's a difference, babe.

💁🏻♀️: Bro, be careful.

They've got a boyfr-

-I mean, tour guide/personal bodyguard.

Don't call 'em babe.

💁🏾♂️: darn, you're right.

my bad!

∆ 💁🏾♂️ added @ obnoxiouslyflirtybonehead to the group chat ∆

OH MY GOD.

💀: yo.

wassup?

Snap.

∆ 💀 sent a picture ∆

💀: look at what my name on their phone is.

The message displays a blurry picture of your phone's screen, though it's been zoomed in on enough for his nickname to be legible.

💁🏾♂️: daaamn 😏

💁🏻♀️: Oh, hell yeah!

An arm pulls you close to the monster's chest, and you're locked tight in place by his magic.

"Smile for the camera, babe."

Snap.

"Hey!"

∆ 💀 sent a picture ∆

💀: think you guys could frame it for me or somethin'?

💁🏻♀️: Already at the printing station.

How many do y'all want?

💁🏾♂️: one for me!

💀: three for me.

Three?

💁🏻♀️: So 7? U got it, guys.

What?

No!

I was asking @💀 why he needed three copies of that picture.

💁🏻♀️: Too late. Already printed 8 of them.

💀: to answer @👤's question...

one for home, one for work, and one for my bike.

God, you're insufferable.

💀: and you, irresistible. 😘

wait.

lemme do that irl.

Just as you exit the chat app and look to his side, you're met with him casting an amused yet bashful glance at you.

"Wanna kiss?" Sans asks, gaze pointing at your cheek.

"...Sure," you reply, leaning in close.

He presses his teeth there and stays that way for a short while, though the moment extends itself when you find yourself wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him into a hug, the right amount of tight to make his breath tremble and body tense up quick.

You let go and raise an eyebrow, smiling all the while. "All this, just to get a picture of us together?" 

"In my defense," he says, winking, "I hardly doubt you'd ever take an initiative with that, puddin'."

Chapter Text

Something's wrong.

That single sentence continues to repeat itself over and over as he makes it from Ruins to Hotland with the human, who remains quiet and distant during the entirety of the walk. 

They're obligated to take off their jacket and reveal a sweaty tank top midway through, leaving their arms bare, these they try to hide from his line of sight by crossing them and glancing aside. He wonders why they do that at first, until he witnesses how hefty and soft-looking their arms are, a noticeable difference compared to the toned muscles he often saw from those who worked at the Royal Guard. Whether the human felt unconfident of their appearance or vulnerable as a cause of the nightmare he assumed to be related to, Sans wasn't completely sure of. Either way, he's aware it's best not to bring that up currently. The ups and downs to their health and body had shown greatly through these past few months, and though they were recovering little by little, they seemed to be facing some more frequent downs, as of late. Their call from a few days ago and the weak state they were in as they climbed into the back seat of Papyrus's car were just enough to make him fear there's something bigger going on.

"Shoulda worn shorts or somethin'," he comments, noticing they already seem to be affected by the heat. Frisk ventured through a variety of climates with no trouble at all, yet their parent was showing signs of fatigue in their body within a few minutes into their walk through Hotland. The place had grown about twice as hot since he last visited, though he doubts the human will believe him if he were to say that out of nowhere. They could likely take it as him trying to console them for their inability to be stronger than him; or their own child, for that matter -- someone meant to see them as a role model rather than a frail and dependent person. "Wanna borrow some of mine?"

The human stares at him like he's made the most absurd suggestion there is, similar to that of mixing water with cereal or cooking steak in a toaster. "I swear, you test your luck with me a little too hard sometimes."

"I mean it, though."

"...We're not even dating yet."

"Yet," he says, mirth in his tone. "As in, there's still a possibility for us to become official?"

"Oh, stop it." They frown and fumble with the keys hanging from their satchel; he notices their nails are stubby, and bits of dried blood can be seen at the corners of plenty. "I… I don't know when you're being serious with me or not anymore."

"I meant that, too," he states, chuckling. "Would it be late if I told you I got that punch at the bar, 'cuz I had my head way in the clouds -- thinkin' about you?"

Sans receives no comment or reaction other than them looking elsewhere and moving aside to walk a bit further from where he's at.

As a consequence, he takes a step closer, catches them with a 'hey', and reaches for their cheek when they look down at him. "...What's the matter? Your face's burnin'."

"We're in Hotland," they retort, rolling their eyes and brushing his hand away. "Ice's frozen. Water's wet.  The sun's scorching-"

"-Just like you."

They walk off again, albeit with some struggle now that the heat of Hotland has combined with their embarrassment. 

"And I'm not gonna wear your shorts. It would be a waste of time for me to take a break just because of some heat -- I'm not weak."

"Not sayin' you are. Just sayin' I don't want you to die from a heatstroke."

"Either way, I overlooked my situation, and I failed to prepare for it." A solemn look falls on their face, coupled with a firm posture. "I should've kept in mind my health, so it wouldn't be right for you to try redeeming my lack of preparedness. I should've asked Frisk or you more about this." They take in a breath and sigh it out. "...even if you can adapt to it just fine, and even if Frisk didn't have as much trouble to adjust as me."

Hot-headed and fiery might just be the finest ways to describe the human's current attitude, yet he very well knows making another joke about their temper -- combined with their hotness and the place they're currently at -- would be far too much. It wouldn't surprise him if they decided to call off the tour halfway through. Patience wasn't quite their main trait, though they practiced a sufficient amount of tolerance when it came to confronting his constant coquetry for the duration of those two months one of their coworkers mentioned in the chat; he can hardly believe it's been that long, and even less how close he was to kiss them that one time on the couch. More than sixty days of dealing with his presence had to be considered an achievement of some sort, even if their feelings were mutual. The monster's completely aware of how tiring and exasperating he can be on the often occasion, so he finds it best to start rationing how much he can be at once; too much of something's rarely ever good or effective, after all.

"But... Alright. Risking it would only make it worse, either way." Their gaze turns soft and they concede with a quiet huff. "Wouldn't we have to go allll the way back, though?"

"Not exactly," he replies, winking.

Sans proceeds to unzip his jacket and reveal a folded bundle of clothing underneath it. 

"I know you can be stubborn sometimes, so I came prepared." He turns it over and adds, "There's a full set of clothes there, in case ya wanna freshen up at Met's old hotel before we keep goin'." His hands brush with theirs as they take the clothing from him. "It's been abandoned for a short while now, but I'm pretty sure the water's still runnin' well, for the most part." His gaze falls on their belongings again, and he gives into a cheekier grin as he continues with, "I've noticed somethin' about you, by the way."

"And what would that be?" they ask, mouth straight and tone wary.

He observes the satchel again -- the more-heavy-than-it-looks bag they almost always seemed to carry along with them, be it for something as typical as their job to something as simple as going out for a walk. What made it odd was knowing what contents could be found inside, these he has a vague recollection from when he had no other choice but to organize their bag after having gone through it when they fainted at the bus. Sans can still remember having rummaged through layers of Frisk's clothing, school supplies, and even a few monster-aimed medicines before setting the first aid kit back to its rightful place. The only things he could recall to be truly theirs were their cellphone, wallet, keys, and eyeglasses case. Going back to that memory makes him wonder -- were their priorities in the format of a list -- what number they would label themself with.

"You usually carry stuff in that bag meant for other people -- not you." He eyes the pocket with a few contents poking out from it. "...Or am I Ied to believe that bright pink Husky hairpin's yours?"

The human looks confused for a moment, until their eyes cast down at their bag and assess the pocket his gaze is most focused on. Then, they come across one of the smaller ones, where the mentioned accessory stays clipped to. "It- It's not! That's just in case Frisk needs it." They take it and hide it away in one of the bigger, emptier pockets. "It's their favourite hairpin, and they use it more often now that their hair's getting longer."

"But they ain't here right now."

"Yes, but what if they need it later -- when I go pick them up?"

He can barely contain the joy their overly defensive expression brings upon his face. 

Perhaps it's pure projection or coincidence, but they appear to resemble the same dog he mentioned with the stance they hold, not threatening in the slightest and charming at best, but still ready to attack -- figuratively, of course. Hearty laughter escapes him, though he covers it up with a harrumph. "I'm surprised you don't carry the whole house with you, at this point."

"It doesn't hurt to be prepared."

"If only you applied that thought for you, too."

They swat his skull with their hand and let out a chuckle. "Don't nag me, teddy bear." Nonetheless, a more serious look overcomes them as they sigh. "You're right, though." With how quiet it gets and how long that pause lasts, it appears as if they've become lost in their thoughts. "Not only did the social worker suggest it, but it's not fair for me to keep bothering you or anyone else because of my..." They scratch their throat and grin. "...consistently questionable life choices."

"Is that a promise I'm hearin'?"

"A big and definite one."

Half-open windows help bring some clear air into the stuffy room, as does the air conditioner set to the coldest temperature possible by lessening the dryness and heat of the wind. It's all paired up with the scents of the fresh cinnabunnies and iced coffee he carries in some paper bags, food he bought at Snowdin while the human showered. Sans sets the meal by the nightstand, covers it up with some aluminum foil, and -- finally -- wipes a layer of dirt away from the mirrored dresser before assembling some toiletries on it. Then, he sits down in bed, closes his eye sockets, and waits. The sounds of his soul beating, the breeze blowing the curtains, and the shower running are the only melodies to take over the quiet of the hotel. Turning on the radio by the nightstand further assists those noises and aids in transforming the room into a more welcoming and cozy spot, overall. The last thing on his mental to-do list is to wait some more by checking his phone and updating himself on any new messages, some few from (Y/N)'s coworkers wishing him luck. A grin's inevitable as he reads through these a second time.

The shower turning off and a door unlocking are the next changes he notices, along with the radio switching from music to news.

Sans feels his breath tremble when the human steps out. They're dressed to the nines despite their attire being composed of the simplest clothing possible: a new pair of his below-the-knee shorts, these fitting slightly above theirs as a result of their taller height; plus one of his baggiest shirts, now almost at belly button length for the same reason as the first piece. What makes such a common attire seem so complex and thought-out is how well they've adjusted it to their figure; it's either that, or he has his head in the clouds again. Regardless, they knew how to fix an outfit, and it wasn't that of much surprise if he compared it to the time they pulled the same trick when borrowing some sleepwear from Toriel's wardrobe. 

Or, then again… 

He was slowly becoming infatuated with them and couldn't avoid finding them attractive -- no matter the clothing worn.

At the sight of them having their back turned to him while they perform their finishing touches by the dresser, he approaches them as quietly as he can, yet he lets himself be seen halfway with the reminder of the nightmare they had and how startled they could likely be if he tried anything extreme. He goes to hug them from behind when they catch him getting closer, though they say and do nothing in response. Still, his expectations of no retaliation are promptly shattered as they turn around, grab his hands, and twirl him once, preventing the hug. 

"Nice try, teddy bear," they comment, smiling. "Do try again next time." They wink.

It's a knockout when the radio decides to switch back to music, inspiring in them what he assumes is an urge to take their current hold on him to lead him into an impromptu dance. 

"So… You want to get flirty with me again?" they ask, grabbing his hands tight as they sway him left and right at a rhythmic but easy motion. "Then you've got to handle me flirting back." One hand holds his left one up while the other places his right one on their waist. Theirs then falls on his shoulder when he keeps his where they placed it at, this one he has trouble keeping still with how close he is to touch their skin, part of their waist now more exposed with their movements, showing the ‘love handles’ he'd teased them about since he first flirted with them. A subtle but no less playful smile stretches their lips; their eyes soften, though mischief flares in their gaze. "I've made the decision to trust you," they comment, twirling him around once more. "So if you'd like us to be official, we can, but…" Their steps slow down as they trail off in their thoughts.

He treads in with, "You need to wait until the CPS thing's over with, right?"

They nod. "Unfortunately."

Their sorrow stays brief and their playfulness returns, replacing their momentary frown for yet another smile. "My memory might be a bit bad though, as I've never heard you say you like me before." To further increment the effects of their teasing, their lips fall close to his teeth but end up lower, kissing his jaw instead. "...In other words," they add, hands locking firm around his neck and bringing him closer to them. "Speak now, or forever hold your peace."

Sans feels his face turn about as warm as theirs felt, and he can tell they've noticed, based on the way their face lingers close to his -- waiting. 

"...I like you," he says, far too quiet to be labeled anything but a murmur; even a thought could be considered louder than his words.

They land another kiss, much closer to his teeth. "Couldn't hear you."

"I like you, puddin'," he repeats, stronger this time. "Can you, uh… do that again, though? It felt nice."

They nod, lean in further, and press yet another kiss to his face. "Gladly."

With that, the human carries on with the dance. They sway him left and right and perform small circles across the hotel room, adding a twirl every few seconds -- sometimes with them taking the lead, and vice versa. "I like you, too, Serif." Despite the meaning and weight of their words, a frown arrives on their face. "But…" They hesitate. "I still have some doubts, and I think that dream I had confirmed that."

"Would you like to talk about it?"

A few seconds of silence remain and the song ends, dropping tension in the room.

"Not now, but… But maybe later?" They let him go. "If possible, I'd like to talk at the Judgment Hall -- where you last worked before leaving the Underground."

Despite his best efforts, the skeleton can't avoid commenting, "Want me to judge how good you look right now?"

The human sighs, loud and long. "...Babe?"

"Yeah?"

"Stop."

He lets out a resounding, jovial laugh at that.

Their tone's genuinely sad, as so's their expression.

They look a hundred and ten percent done with him, though they still push forward with a, "Be serious for a moment, please. I… I really mean it, and that dream I had…" Demurral returns to their words. "It involved one of my fears about Frisk's safety, and well…" They take a deep, shaky breath. "A- And my own safety when I'm around you."

The severity of their statement dawns on him, and his view distorts itself from an attractive human to a vulnerable one standing in front of him, weak and poorly prepared -- completely alone with him in a large, abandoned, and dilapidated hotel. They were easy prey from the viewpoint of an Underground Sentry. He could easily take them captive with their current state of health and their lack of knowledge in combat. Were he still assigned to that job, had they fallen in Frisk's stead, and were finding that seventh soul still a priority, he could just as easily inform every other member of the Royal Guard to bring the human down to the Monster King's bidding. Unlike Frisk, they had little to no determination left in their soul; a quick and direct intervention meant danger for them. 

And had he still that same mindset to this day, his agreement with Asgore to serve and protect Frisk's parent would be something he could break -- something simple to deal with if he framed the blame on someone else. He could just as likely tolerate some jail time for failing to fulfill his part of that job with no protest. The only real obstacle would be the child themself, knowing they were likely going to guard and care for their parent unconditionally. But even then, they were still alone with him presently; in other words, he could cover up any potential evidence of him being a culprit with time to spare. Perhaps Frisk was the hero of the story, but their parent was still an NPC -- someone easy to get rid of with the right amount of caution and preparedness.

"You mentioned something about Karma before, and well…" They break the silence and snap him out of those thoughts. "I've made a lot of bad choices and awful mistakes, so that makes me wonder if, m- maybe…" Tears form in their eyes as they breathe in -- once, then twice. "If maybe I don't deserve any of this kindness or forgiveness that I've been getting recently, and… And that maybe I don't belong in this story, y'know? Frisk has done all the work here so far, and they've overcome plenty of obstacles, too. Meanwhile, I- I'm a weak, ill person with a dead-end job -- trying to keep a holey row boat afloat with napkins." They let out a shaky sigh and fail at a smile. "I get that you like me, and I can't deny or ignore my own feelings for you, but I'm… I'm an unworthy, ungrateful person. We've known each other for barely half a year. Th- There's stuff you don't know about me yet -- just as I don't know about you." 

Their face shines with tears, these they can't bring themself to stop with how many pour down, and how fast these are. "I've already troubled and hurt Frisk enough as it is, and I've... I've troubled well-meaning family like Brenda just as much with my mistakes." They cover their face as they sit down in bed, trying to contain their sorrow. "...And then I have these awful, intrusive thoughts that seep in whenever I think I'm doing better. I don't want to bring trouble to you or any other monsters, either, but reminding myself of my past worsens these feelings, kn- knowing I might screw up again and again and again."

Feeling the situation's getting too rough not to establish some control over it, Sans sits down with them and grabs their wrists, tugging at these for them to look down at him.

Fear reaches their gaze as they stare at his irises, completely overcoming their bright and cheerful attitude from earlier.

"Breathe," he says, voice low as he loosens his grip on their wrists -- at the feeling of them shaking almost violently under his hold. "We'll go to the Hall in a few. But, first... I'm gonna need you to calm down a lil' more." He lets go.

They nod, close their eyes, and let a few more tears drift down before he dries the rest of these off with the sleeve of his jacket.  "...Alright."  

When they shudder, sniffle, and recover some sense of tranquility, they look at him again and smile. "And thank you for showing me patience."

He smiles back and brings them in for a hug -- long, tight, and strong. "That I've got plenty of, puddin'."

Chapter Text

"Should I… Should I give up Frisk's custody?"

"What?"

Having that be the first thing the human asks when arriving at the Judgment Hall surprises him the right amount to make that 'what' come off as a shout. It resonates throughout the echoey room, giving rise to the noise and causing them to flinch and stop walking. At that, Sans sighs and excuses himself; strain arrives in his voice as he corrects himself with, "Why do you think that? Isn't the kid happy with you?"

They avoid his irises and stare at the newly laid-out benches around, these a product of the changes being made to the Underground, and ones they suggest sitting on while they talk.  It's obvious they're stalling for time, so he doesn't speak and only follows them there. One glance at the bitter look in their eyes and the sheer uncertainty of their frown makes him stay that way -- waiting for them to act first. Not even the bright light that seeps into the room is enough to shake them out of their distant gaze. Their steps are soft and slow, barely causing an echo as they walk, vastly different from his own set of footsteps. Being any more cautious and quiet would mean they would disappear out of the room entirely. Were he not walking along with them, their presence would be hard to distinguish from the vast emptiness of the place. Even the benches don't suffice to fill out the space surrounding the Hall.

"I'm not sure anymore," they finally reply, tone as icy as their choice of words. He sits next to them and lays a hand over their knee, one he squeezes tight as a way of comforting them. "Toriel seems like someone better fit for that role, so if she holds the same feelings she had about adopting Frisk as she did the first time, then maybe… That's all for the best?" Their voice trembles, though they continue with, "What do you think, Sans?"

The monster pulls his hand back and lets their question simmer in his thoughts for a while.

"Do ya really wanna know?" he asks, meeting their gaze. 

"...Yes." Their reply is as weak as the light in their eyes.

Again, Sans gives himself some time to think, needing that more than ever now that they hold him up to such a delicate question. He doesn't want to sugarcoat anything, but -- similarly -- he doesn't want to hurt them further than they already appear to be. A happy medium would be the best choice, though he doesn't know what that is, exactly. Truthfully, he was growing biased whenever it came to talking about them; he was besotted, no doubt, and -- if matters kept on this way -- he had to scold himself for letting his feelings conflict with his job. Seeing them blue was the last thing he wanted, but some things are easier said than done. If they required an honest answer, he had to deliver it. Masking faults wouldn't do any good, in the long run.

"I think you're a pretty wonderful parent. It's the overthinking and overprotective part that you've gotta work more on. Other than that, then you should take that promise you made seriously, so that you can improve and find more strength to avoid those doubts." His hands make their way to their waist as he brings them closer to him. He then sits them on his lap, smiles, and leans in, looking up with that same, yearning visage afterwards. "...And someone easy to love, despite that stuff." His desire to kiss them grows stronger by the second, yet he's aware it's best not to try that currently -- not now, of all times. The human was still healing; his wants could wait for their needs. "I like being around you -- with you. And while I know Tori's a good mother, you're a good parent, too. You deserve to keep being Frisk's parent, just as they deserve having a parent like you."

By all means, this has to be the riskiest move he's pulled so far, and with awful timing, too. He overlooked plenty of factors before placing them on his lap, and -- now -- he's beginning to consider if that's the best thing he could've done. Their hands have difficulty finding a safe area to land on without making him tense up, and the same goes for their sitting position, this one just as stiff as they try to get comfortable without doing the opposite to him. Still, they stay firm in place and smile back, something that doesn't last long when they say, "I've made too many mistakes, and I've... I've bothered way too many people. I can't even feel mad about arguing with Brenda without then feeling guilty seconds later, k- knowing she did so much to pull me out of that bog. I don't deserve to be forgiven." Their hands press against his chest and grab tight onto his shirt, squeezing at the fabric to tug him closer against them. "It's not right."

The monster tries to catch another look at them, though the human refuses by looking down, gaze cast on their lap. "That's on the people you've hurt. You don't get to decide whether you deserve their forgiveness. Or do ya?"

Their hold on him roughens. "Of course not."

"Then why think that? What makes you think Frisk doesn't like you -- or Brenda? Or pretty much... anyone else?"

Sans gets even closer, leading them to press a hand against his shoulder in a weak attempt at gaining that space back.

They look at him afterwards, eyes focused on his teeth. "Do you want to ki-"

He does that before they can even finish with their sentence.

The reminder he's yet to adjust to physical contact dawns on him when he kisses them. 

His pulse skyrockets, and it's a challenge not to grow dizzy by his own actions. His hands lay awkwardly on their lap, but he tries to explore elsewhere to prevent that, making him end up holding their lower back. The warmth and softness of their body is a grand contrast from his, something he can feel to be more pronounced when his hand strays to their waist, pudginess felt sharply against the roughness of his touch. He's lost track of how long the kiss has lasted, yet -- right as he's thinking about ending it -- they return it with twice as much fervour, tongue slipping into the space left between his parted teeth. Clumsy movements turn clumsier as he wonders what to do now that they're going beyond a quick and simple kiss, though he doesn't push them away. His soul fastens and he can hear their heartbeat with how close he is against them, the sole obstacle to keep him distanced being the reminder this is the last action he'll get for a while; if again, at all. 

He shouldn't be doing this, and while his mind has that thought on repeat, he wants more.

"Doin' mouth-to-mouth again, are we?" an infamous voice comments, this one heard from close by. "Didn't know getting so touchy-feely and tongue-heavy was part of the process."

They get off his lap and stand up; their actions are immediate, even more so than his own. A guarded, almost wary look overcomes all the hard-earned calm they expressed before. Not an ounce of reluctance stays in their posture, and -- in comparison -- they appear plenty more defiant than anything else.

"You've fought all the way here, just to surrender now?"

Sans almost believes he's said that himself with how similar that voice is to his; it's rough and booming, and it arrives from the door of Asgore's old garden.

"This was all one cheap ruse, wasn't it? You never really were angry with any of the monsters, were you?" the same voice asks, his figure emerging from the door. "You've 'fought' with people like Toriel just to make yourself seem like you actually give a shit about your child, but you don't care at all." It's the same man from the bus; a small but no less weak army stands behind him, allowing him to act more confident than before. "If you did, I'm sure as hell you wouldn't be kissing a complicit in murder. You just want to hand the kid over to the first idiot you see and be done with them."

"Hey, bud," Sans says, standing up. "Watch it."

He takes a few steps forward until settling in the middle of the hall, preventing those by the door from getting any closer. "We came here for some quiet n' privacy," he then adds, zeroing his gaze on the man. "So please leave, so I can talk with 'em."

"You should watch what you say," one of the crowd says, stepping from behind the man. "Just what do you mean by 'privacy', exactly? Gonna get it on with that human? Though you were doing that just now, and you've done that before, too -- It makes no sense for you to want any 'privacy' now."

"I don't think I need to explain why me giving 'em CPR and me kissing 'em are two vastly different things." The skeleton continues to get closer, noticing the crowd's doing the same. "And I mean privacy, as in: what we need to talk about 'ere ain't none of your business," he states, gaze narrowing at the woman. "Leave us alone."

"As if we'll let you go," a different man says, joining the woman's side. "You might have (L/N) fooled with your 'feelings', but we're aware of the truth, and we refuse to let whatever this is keep going. Whatever cheap sob-story you told them to try justifying your actions won't work on us."

He glances back to the human when noticing they've grown quiet. They're still standing near the bench, though they soon face the crowd and say, "If you have a problem with that, you can talk to me directly. He has nothing to do with this." Then, they glare at the man, who remains unfazed even as they walk forward. "He's-"

Thud.

The sound follows right after he shields the human from the object hurled at them. 

It rests in his hand, large, oval, and porous -- one of Asgore's heaviest garden rocks. 

"Stop that."

Thud.

Three are thrown at the same time. Two Sans catches with ease, though one slips right past him and ends up hitting his company with a loud thunk. Worry over them being hurt fades when he looks to their side and sees they've caught the rock in their hand, creating a bruise in their palm -- one they hide in their pocket after shaking the pain away. 

"Leave us alo-"

A crash follows before the third thud, leaving shattered glass by the opposite spot to where the man and his crew stand at. Shoes aid with not being cut by the shards as he gives his back to the crowd and inspects the source of destruction, though it's made clear the thud's come from another rock, this one the human didn't turn out successful in avoiding. Blood drips from the side of their face down to their neck, while the rock lays stained by the floor. Regardless, they say nothing and cover the wounded area with a piece of cloth they retrieve from their belongings. The cold look from before returns, but with ire and distaste -- all of that directed at the crowd rather than their own self. 

"Say something," the man from the bus says, words aimed at Frisk's parent, who stays quiet all the while. "The hell's wrong with you?"

"Ditto." they state, lips straight and eyes dull. "You have no business being here. This is-"

"Then your Halloween-edition boyfriend has no business living up there, either."

"That's not what I meant." They approach the monster's side and stay close to him. "This place is dangerous. The walls are cracking, the ceilings are crumbling, and the floors are giving in. The only reason why the Underground isn't available to you is 'cuz it's being made a safer place for you to be in."

"Then why are you here, of all people?"

"I'm here to learn the truth before I decide what to do with Frisk's custody."

Sans tries to stay one step ahead of them, remaining wary over any other attacks. The man glares at him, though the greater part of his attention resides on them. Still, he nods at one of his companions to keep an eye on him, reminding the monster he hasn't yet forgotten  about him. 

"So why did you ask about giving up their custody?"

"Because I know I'm not adept enough to raise them with my current state of health. They deserve better."

Anger strikes in the man's eyes. He clasps his hands into fists and clenches his jaw. What keeps him from getting any closer is seeing Sans do the same.

"So you call Toriel better?" the man questions, words spat.

Something unknown ignites in the skeleton's soul, and while he assumes it's because two people he thought fondly of were being spoken ill of, the strength of that feeling makes him believe there's more to it than that. 

"Asks the one who threw a rock at (Y/N)," he intervenes, against biting back his tongue.

Sans takes their hand and helps them sit back down on the bench, though he keeps an iris on the crowd and a thick shield around the human.

When finished, he stares back at the man and adds, "You have a minute to wrap things up and leave this place -- before I call for backup."

"Can't fight us alone, skelly?"

"I don't intend to."

He holds the human up in his arms and takes them to the first location he thinks of, all while ignoring those who try to challenge him as he teleports them out of the Judgment Hall.

"Are you and (L/N) safe? Please give them my deepest apologies. Truth be told, it has been rather difficult to communicate more often, now that my... jail sentence has doubled."

He rests his back against the wall, slumps, and closes his eye sockets for a moment.

"I'm fine," Sans replies, toying with the strings of his jacket. "They got hit by a rock, but other than that…" He glances at his bed, where they lay at as they hold an ice pack to their wound. They give him a quick thumbs-up, allowing him to continue with, "They're okay."

Asgore breathes out a sigh in what he can only assume to be relief. "Be sure to mention my name, if they ever require medical care."

"Got it. See ya later, old man."

"Farewell, Sans."

He sets his phone down and stares at it, gaze blank as he contemplates the situation. 

Their question clings to his mind no matter how much he tries to convince himself they're fine.

If someone so devoted to their role as a parent had a thought as wild as that one, then what was keeping them from holding themself back? 

What was keeping them from giving up the one thing they found a purpose in?

And if they hadn't brought it up, what would happen then?

"What did he-" The human interrupts themself with an 'ow' when they try to stand up. "What did he say?"

The monster sits next to them by the edge of the bed and leans in, using one hand to hold their cheek while the other keeps him stable -- hovered over their body. "Don't stress about that now," he says, voice quiet. "Just relax."

They smile and keep their cheek in his hand, though theirs places itself over his as they rub their thumb against it. "Worried?"

"It's the third time you've fallen ill in less than a year." He chuckles. "What do you think?"

"I think you need to join me in bed, then." They brush his hand away and extend their arms out -- as if waiting for a hug. "C'mere, babe."

He approaches them without dither, though he's careful not to be rough as he lowers some more and embraces them. Their arms grab his waist and lay him on the little space remaining next to them. The space he lacks they make up for by bringing him close -- enough for him to hear their heartbeat, along with each breath they take. "So are you still going by that agreement letter? Or did you really just bodyguard me?"

"Bodyguard?"

"Don't judge my word choice." They grin. "I'm dizzy and tired." A curious glint reaches their gaze when pulling their attention away from him to look around his room. "You're almost done moving, aren't you? The place looks empty."

"It's better now that you're here, though."

"You never miss an opportunity to do that, don't you?"

He winks. "That's about the last thing I wanna do when I'm around you."

They roll their eyes, only to then grab him by the shoulders and pull him closer. Their breath is overwhelmingly minty, revealing they've just about chewed the entire box of gum he'd seen them take out of their bag. Thankfully, it seems to have worked to some extent, as they don't seem as weak as they did when first arriving at his room. The mint's strength is what's keeping them awake and fighting the nausea shown after escaping through the use of his magic. "Are you really fine?" they ask, smile still there; it weakens, however, and they appear to recall something, confirmed with, "A- And God, I'm sorry. You said you weren't comfortable with making out, and I doubt you mentioned anything beyond kissing on the cheek, too, right? And yet, I… I went ahead and-"

"It's okay."

"No, it's not. I did something you clearly stated you didn't like before."

Sans pokes at their nose with his index finger, gaining an annoyed huff from their part. "And that was around two whole months ago," he says, grinning. "I barely knew much about my feelings back then, but now I understand them a lil' better, and… And what I'm comfortable with, also."

They don't humour him. On the contrary, they grab his finger and soon his entire hand as they force it into a fist. "But it's still important enough for me to remind myself of it." Finally, they push it away and lour. "You don't need to do any of this." Their forehead wrinkles and their body stiffens. "I was in the wrong-"

"For asking me if I wanted to kiss you? I was the one who cut you off mid-question for that."

He stands up and helps them do the same.

"Let's calm down for a moment and think this through." 

The skeleton then places his hands over their thighs and looks up at them. "I'm still figuring myself out, but one thing's for sure: I like you. Even if I don't exactly know to what extent those feelings go, what I'm willing to do, and what I'm not, I like you, and I want to explore these feelings with you." They nod and stay silent as he adds, "The one who punched me at the bar -- that friend I told you about -- they had a crush on me for a long time, but I never really was one to care much for that kinda stuff. Then there's the occasional, rare crush I had on other people, but… It was always hard for me to distinguish whether those feelings were romantic or not." He stops to assess their expression and sees intrigue in their eyes. "I was more guarded at the time, since I still had that job at the Hall, and that involved me being a hell lot more distant than I am these days. But now that I've got more freedom to live and just, well… be, I've been able to figure things out about myself -- like how much I enjoy even the thought of having you by my side." 

When something cold falls on his hand, he looks up at them to see tears in their eyes. 

"Were you that worried about this, puddin'?" He can't contain a laugh when he sees them shed more tears after being asked that question. 

They nod and press their lips tight together, holding themself back. "I don't want to screw this up. I… I like you, too, and it feels like… like I overstepped a lot of boundaries for a minute there."

"A kiss that you asked me about first?"

"But then I returned it and did things I wasn't supposed to."

"Did you actually ever ask me if I liked it or not?"

"Well, uh… No."

Sans takes their hand and brings it against where his soul can be felt beating.

"I was, frankly... overwhelmed, but it didn't feel gross or anything like that. And I didn't feel a need to stop or tell you to, regardless." He feels his face burn, and he's sure there has to be some evidence that his face is turning red, yet he doesn't hold back. "Did you forget what we went to the Hall originally for?" His smile widens. "Or did you forget to keep yourself in mind again?"

"It was to talk about my dream from earlier."

"But you still ended up talkin' about Frisk instead. And then I sat you on my lap and kissed you." He then brings their hand to his cheekbone. "Sounds selfish when I put it that way, doesn't it?"

They don't answer and choose to hide their face away against his chest. "Maybe? I… I wanted to kiss you, too, though."

"I did it knowing that dream you had was related to me -- and in a negative way, to boot."

Their hand lets go of his cheekbone and goes to place itself close to where they rest their face at.

"So let's plan something," he adds, holding their back. "Once we're done signing Frisk up in Tori's school, and once you settle things out with your job… We go on another date like the one we had at that hotel, and from there on, we can talk about that dream for real. You'll avoid bringing up stuff that's not directly related to your situation, while I'll avoid my urge to kiss you."

They let out a laugh. "Tell me more."

Sans complies with a grin. "So if everything's sorted out better by then, we can celebrate that accomplishment by having our actual first date -- but at my new place."

"You sure want me to visit you, huh?" they ask, smiling. "Is there… Is there maybe something important you want to tell me, teddy bear?"

He chuckles, winks, and pulls them closer with an arm around their shoulders. "You've read right through me, puddin'."

Chapter Text

g' mornin', doll.

While you'd normally stay an extra hour in bed, you're wide awake by the time you receive that message today. The house is silent, allowing you to hear each step you take against the creaky floorboards, as well as the sound of you composing a reply. Besides the fact the monster's chosen such an early hour to text you, the word 'doll' catches your attention out of that simple greeting. It's silly — and sillier still when you read it aloud. Imagining him saying it, however, is a completely different story.

Good morning, 1900s noir detective.

ah, c'mon.

it's either that, or 'husky'. 

gotta vary the pet names now that we're gonna be datin'.

Wouldn't husky be a literal pet name, though?

and a reference to how much taller you are compared to me.

didn't notice how much smaller i was until i, uh... sat you on my lap.

but anyway, how d'you wake up?

head doin' okay?

Doll's fine, if that's the case.

Unless you want me to call you Corgi.

And...

I'm doing alright.

It stings, though it's nothing I can't tolerate.

video call me so i can kiss it better.

You're being such a hardcore suck-up today, and it's only five thirty in the morning. 

Anything you want from me, sugar? 

your love and attention.

I'm all out.

Sorry.

A video call invite pops up before you can set your phone down. 

You end up answering it out of sheer spook rather than want, and it results in you giving your greatest welcome to the monster; and by that, it's the complete and utter opposite. You haven't done anything other than wash your face and brush your teeth; not even your clothes are decent enough for you to have considered so much as the thought of picking up the phone. Pajamas gifted to you by Frisk on your birthday are still worn, these composed of jarring, neon colours and patterned with pancakes, berries, and OJ all over. It's the very first thing he sees as you try to fix the camera to a more flattering angle. You feel his gaze on you throughout, but it's not until you finally sit, settle down, and make yourself appear less messy that you look back to the phone screen to see his room. Bedsheets are strewn about, several pillows lay behind him, a few clothes are left dispersed by the night stand, and a soft, yellow night light helps bring some illumination on him. Various dogs can be seen either sleeping or staring intently at the half-open, curtained windows, these displaying the sun slowly replacing the moon and stars. One of them in particular you recognize as the fluffy Samoyed you both met at the park, who now rests behind him, cat plushie tucked close to him and all.

"Hey," he says, gaze intent on your choice of sleepwear. "You look–"

Your eyes shoot wide open when you decide to study him rather than his room. 

Not only is he shirtless and still wiping away the few water drops left on his arms and neck, but — when looking down at the bedsheet he's wrapped up in — a small bump can be seen right between his legs. The fact he's being so nonchalant only makes your face turn colder than it already has. Him hanging the towel over his shoulders does it worse, igniting a long-forgotten side to your thoughts.

"What the hell's that?" Your question almost comes off as a shout, mind strongly against where this seems to be going.

"What's wrong?" he asks, brow furrowed.

Your gaze points at the bump, while his immediately catches on to what you mean when he looks there. "Oh, that." He grins. "Whaddya think it is, doll?"

"Don't make me say it." You glare at him. "You're being far too shamele–"

"Woof!"

The monster lifts the sheets to reveal a Chihuahua puppy curled up on his lap, along with his bottom half sitting cross-legged, and thankfully clothed with a pair of pants. Sharp and high-pitched woofs greet him, so he lays the sheets back down and allows the dog to continue sleeping. "What were you thinkin', I wonder?" He winks.

"That's none of your concern."

Laughter fills up most of the audio right after.

He lets out a sound similar to a howl midway, leading for every other dog in the room to sit up straight and howl back. His laughter turns nearly uncontrollable, and he has to take a few breaks to breathe, only to be interrupted with more laughter each time — from cackles and chuckles, to wheezes and snorts. His back falls against the pillows as he clutches his rib cage, while tears make all their way down to his cheekbones.

You end lowering the volume until the dogs and their owner calm down, the latter who's now wiping tears from the edges of his eye sockets as sudden bursts of leftover giggles leave him. 

"...Seriously though, tell me."

"No."

With a cough, he brings back composure to his giddy self. "'Aight, then." He adjusts the camera now that it's been wobbled by the commotion. "I'll just mark that off as 'mind deep in the gutter' syndrome."

"H– Hey!" You stand up from bed and form a scowl — one you direct right at him. "Did you forget what happened yesterday? We kissed!" You take a second to breathe in, chest hurting with how tight it becomes. "And... And now you're calling me at five thirty in the morning out of the blue, only for me to answer and see something like that. I did not jump to any conclusions. That was just awfully bad timing!"

"Don't worry — I get it." Anger at that being his only response quells when he adds, "But I do gotta reason to call you."

You place a hand on the back of your neck and frown; guilt consumes your thoughts at the idea that he still needs a reason to call you, despite all your actions and words from yesterday. "And what's that?"

"Are we really datin' now?"

It takes you longer than you care to accept in answering with a, "I think so? Or uh… Do you actually want to?"

"Woof-woof!"

"What the dog said."

"...W– Woof-woof?"

"That's a yes, but with a 'heck' at the beginning."

"So…" You spare a moment to look at the time and calm back down with a smile, one that helps bring back warmth to your face. "We're dating, then."

"Great." Regardless of that simple reply, joy takes up his face and tone. "Sorry 'bout spookin' you with that, though." Sans looks down at himself, then back up at you. "Probably wasn't the best idea to call you while shirtless, and with a dog resting smack in the middle down there."

"You couldn't have known." You sit back down in bed, hug a pillow, and try to calm your heart down. "It's just… My door wasn't locked, and if anyone had walked in on us, then uh… "Y'know."

He hums an agreement. "I get it." Far too sudden, his irises light up brighter and look behind you. His shoulders tense up, while his gaze stays locked on that same spot. "Is that Brenda behind you?"

You cross your arms and poke your tongue out at him. "Oh, c'mon. As if I'll fall for..."

A hand places itself over your shoulder, putting an end to tranquility; warning bells chime in your head to replace it.

"Good morning, Sans. Why are you naked?"

Brenda's voice sounds about thrice as angry as the tightness of her grip on you.

She grabs your phone before you can hang up the call and proceeds to direct her most venomous look at the skeleton. Her eyes are sharp, as so's her frown. "I've got plenty of questions to ask you, but this and you allowing (Y/N) to get hurt are my top two priorities." Her nail taps roughly at the screen as she tries not to squeeze the phone too tight. "And don't you worry. I heard your conversation starting from when they asked about 'that'." She sighs. "But even so, you seem to be getting just a little too comfortable with them." Then, she scoffs. "Or would any rational person decide to call another while wearing only a pair of pants?" 

As anticipated, Brenda pays your complaints no mind and strolls around the room with your phone still held out tight in her hand. 

"If you want to so much as consider the thought of sharing a life with them, you should give this stuff more time. Otherwise, it is unsightly and indecent, knowing you've barely just become their boyfriend."

"Give me the phone, Brenda. You're going way too far."

She ignores you and proceeds with her rant. 

"And just what is the meaning of you–"

You don't concede.

You end up calling her attention with the call of her name and direct your gravest look at her. Still, she's too busy with her self-proclaimed confrontation, so you try again, this time by saying, "Please, stop it, auntie." You reach out for her arm and hold on carefully, wary not to make her snap. "He's"

"I will not allow another sleazebag in this home, and that's final."

Despite her comment, you hear Sans let out a hearty though no less suppressed laugh, and an equally loud but muffled wheeze.

"So either he shows more proper behaviour, or–"

"Or, what? I'm not a kid anymore."

"But you're still just as naïve."

Words from the past make their way back to your mind: from stupid to fool; from childish to immature; from soft to weak. Most if not all came from her, but being aware of her help had always been sufficient for you to keep your mouth shut and accept it all. Now though, that's harder to overlook, as is not losing the strength in your voice when being confronted by her.

"You're not seeing past those years. Things've changed — I've changed."

She sneers and scoffs out a laugh. "Then, please, enlighten me with your progress. Or do I need a microscope to see it?

Willpower runs short quickly, yet you try to regain it by keeping that in mind; being used to that and staying quiet about it doesn't mean you can't finally break free from it.

"Maybe seeing past the way you're treatin' 'em right now?"

The monster beats you to it, tone coming off as sharp and cold as the winds of his hometown. 

You give strength to his words by adding, "And him, too. Or do you think I would've gotten just a scrape from that conflict I had at the Underground? He's–"

Her eyes lose some of their intensity as you say that.

"That, I'm grateful for, but…" She angles the phone so that she looks at Sans directly, anger long gone. "You of all people should know how risky this is, engaging in actions like those in public. They… They were wearing your clothes. Skimpy ones, for God's sake! Do you know how this looks to other people — someone like you playing around with the same parent responsible for their child disappearing into your world? Or did you not see the newest video of you two? Think about them and your own reputation before you decide to prop them on your lap and make out with them in a place as sacred as the Judgement Hall. Or does it now mean nothing to you?"

For once, the monster's gaze turns stern as he responds with, "And me spending time with someone I like taints that sacredness?" No particular emotion can be traced from his tone; it's bleak and monotone, at best. Patience seems to waver in him as he adds, "And just what's sacred about that place, exactly? It's gonna be turned into a cheap tourist attraction, either way. I can at least enjoy seeing it in its original state one last time with the company of someone I care about."

"If you actually cared, you wouldn't be chasing after their affection like a starving puppy. They are a parent above all else, and wasting time with pointless flirting and courtship will only further stain their image."

"That's enough, Brenda." You grab the phone back. "You're being disrespectful."

You take a few steps forward while she takes some backwards, a feat continuing until you push her out of your bedroom.

"I appreciate you trying to help, but I'm not as ignorant as I used to be eight years ago. It's none of your concern what I'm doing in a room meant to be off-limits for those who don't have a permit, and with someone who returns my feelings, at that. If those people were nosy enough to access the Underground while it was still off-limits, their opinion on what I do is none of their damn business." Unregistered anger explodes as you add, "It's not like I was outright getting freaky with him, either. And he's not a bad person, so I have no reason to feel guilty for wanting to date someone other than Jerry!" Your body shakes with a huff. "The only thing they should judge me for is being a bad pare— Shit." 

Your head stings, interrupting your rant. 

A hand over it reveals you're bleeding again. 

"Let me catch a break, 'cuz I sure as hell haven't gotten one in a while." You glance back at the video call for a moment to see a dog attempting to shake Sans out of his dull state, the latter who's still looking as grim as before. "I already wasted more than seven years acting like a martyr, even for things I didn't need to feel guilty of. And I won't do that again. I deserve the happiness I feel when I'm doing something other than dealing with CPS or working my ass off in a dead-end job. One I'll never get a damn raise in for losing Frisk all those months ago."

Brenda keeps her silent self throughout, only broken for her to say, "Alright." There's a hint of solemnity in her voice, one she lets known by adding, "Then I'll be gone by the time you return from your visit to that goatwoman's school. There're plenty of places for me to–

"I'm not kicking you out, auntie. You can stay here for the rest of your visit, but I demand at least a bit more consideration over what comments you make about me. You can judge me all you want to, but don't go barging into my life like this."

"I'm leaving." Her voice is as solid as the ice in her gaze. "And I won't be around until the holidays get here — just to give Frisk their gifts. Don't come to me if you ever need help again." She frowns and bites her lip; her hands ball up and her jaw clenches as her eyes turn wet. "I never thought you'd be so ungrateful."

The door closes, leaving you be with a sour note to your stomach and the sound of dogs barking from the video call.

You refuse to let neither anger nor sadness show and replace it with the faintest of smiles to glance back at the skeleton still waiting for you. 

"...See you at seven?" Your eyes fall on the time, noticing half an hour's gone by. "It's already six, but I should be done soon."

"See you then," he says, voice faint. "Take a moment to breathe. You look like you need it."

You nod and let out a huff, hand going to your forehead as you do so. "I'm sorry you had to see that." Blood drips from the reopened wound, making you close an eye as it trickles down to your nose. "I, uh… probably need to patch this up again, too."

"Want me to do that better when I get there?" His irises fall on the mess of red and white bandages; concern makes the lights flicker and dim. "Have you been doing that on your own?"

"Yeah." You grin and lean against the wall. "There's no way I can ask Brenda about it without her going off on a lecture." Then, you sigh. "And… And then I don't want to make Frisk worry more by asking them to help me out. They tried to, but I didn't let them." You take in a slow, steady breath and let it out with just as much calm. "Either way, I would still have to do this on my own, if I lived by myself."

"I'll go patch you up," Sans says, almost a statement. "Just make a quick fix while I get there." He seems a bit less gloomy now, yet it doesn't erase how somber his tone still is, regardless of the calmer look he displays.

While he asked if you were doing okay, you can't bring yourself to ask him the same thing, knowing he's already masked his own feelings over the situation. Asking him later would be the best choice, though — judging by how he went back to his usual self in less than a minute — that'll be easier said than done. Still, the call's gone by for too long, so you wrap it up for now. You smile, blow a kiss at the camera, and wink. "Thanks, sugar." Then, you sit down in bed and reach for the phone, taking it back from the nightstand. "I'll be waiting, and…" Silence takes over for a brief while. "Let's talk more about this later, alright? In private, I mean."

"Sure." His response is colder than you'd expect it to be, though based on how his gaze doesn't meet with yours, it doesn't seem to be directed at your suggestion to talk this out with him. When he shakes out of that slump, he adds, "Lookin' like a whole balanced breakfast in those pajamas, by the way." He's back to his old self, without a doubt. "I'd suggest you stayed like that, if we didn't have to go out."

You undo a few buttons and display a bit more neck. "If you make it on time... Maybe we can finish what we started yesterday, minus any nosy creeps staring at us and filming every damn thing they see.”

Bashfulness falls on his tone as he replies with, "Sounds like a plan.”

Chapter Text

"Hurry, ren. We're gonna be late!"

You smile down at Frisk and watch as they tug at the edge of your shirt to try pulling you along with them. 

The door's left open, and even though those meant to pick you up for the event aren't here yet, they still urge you to go outside and wait.

"It's only seven, honey." Your thoughts drift back to your video call and Sans's most recent text message, letting you know half an hour later that he'd be here soon. "We've got a few minutes left." You grab their hand and put a stop to their energy, facing their eyes. "Are you that excited about starting school?"

They nod and grin wide. "Even more, if you're gonna be working there, too!"

Your smile falls as you remember the folder Sans had given you. It had been thrown into the farthest corner of your bookshelf that same day, and you'd been too reluctant to look at it any more ever since. You didn't want to take their kindness and help for granted, just as much as you didn't want to forget about your reasons for learning more about monsters. Your godmother was right in terms of you needing to understand them more, so you've established it upon yourself to bring that up during your first, official date night with the skeleton. Understanding the changes being made to the Underground could aid you with the slim chance of finding a way to either halt or delay it from becoming a big tourist attraction, and you could finally be more clear and upfront about your feelings related to the dream -- even if all of that was easier said than done. Not only had you crossed far too many boundaries with him already, but you were still keeping your dubious relationship with him, all while continuing to be wary of him and everyone else for their past. The subtle but no less irate light to his gaze when having your aunt bring up the the Judgement Hall had been more than sufficient for you to try something -- or at least, assist him and every other monster with that process. 

In short, hypocrisy's absorbing you bit by bit, and today's your very first attempt at trying to break free from that. Whether you succeed or not doesn't matter. Giving it a shot, on the contrary, does. Even the slightest amount of closure achieved with your research could help in setting your thoughts straight, and -- perhaps -- to finally stop yourself from comparing monsterkind with Jerry.

To put it this way: you couldn't allow yourself one thing if you were allowing the other to continue happening. 

After all, why were you willing to engage in a relationship with someone like Sans, when you were still far from forgiving and much less forgetting Jerry over abandoning Frisk for so many years?

Why were you willing to befriend someone like Alphys, who'd been close to ending up in jail due to the failed experiments made on those of her own kind?

Why were you willing to book a night at Mettaton's hotel, knowing he'd once set Frisk into danger greater than any other monster you knew had -- Undyne being a close second?

Even someone like Papyrus brought harm to them once! 

"Ren," Frisk calls out, tugging your hand. "You look angry. Are… Are you okay?"

You nod and let out a breath, composing yourself. "I'm fine, honey."

"Are you still thinking about avenging me?"

Your eyes shoot wide open at that, and you can't avoid suspecting they might have the capability of reading your mind. 

Regardless of their word choice, you were -- in a sense -- wanting to avenge them from anyone who'd once caused them harm, be it Jerry, the monsters, or the loud and nosy neighbour from next door wondering why Frisk enjoyed playing with action figures just as much as they did playing with princesses.

"Ren!"

Hearing their whine of concern, you snap out of it and look down to see they've let go of your hand, both their arms now outstretched and in wait for your embrace. 

"Do you want a hug?"

Your smile returns at that, albeit a bit more melancholic compared to the first time. You get down to their height and pull them in for a hug, sighing when you have them safe in your hold; it feels right to have them close and in your care, no matter how much your mind insists otherwise. The question you brought up back at the Judgement Hall still feels like the most subconscious part of your mind had possessed you, insisting you turn back to how you used to be after Frisk's fall.

"You don't need to protect me that much!" they say, letting go. "I… I know all the monsters well, so I'd tell you if any one of them's bugging me. You don't need to hate them for my sake, and you don't have to compare them to dad, either." Without a doubt, if humans still had the capability of using magic and spells, you would label them a mind reader. "You should get to know them on your own first, and not just based on who they are to me. Because if that's really all up to me, then the only one I don't really like much is…" 

At that, they stop; they bring a finger to their chin and tap it twice, delving deep in their thoughts along the way.

"Huh…" Frisk taps their chin again and their gaze turns furrowed, scrunching up the more they think about it. "I mean, I don't really know if I dislike any of them… I just know I wanna have friends!"

You're compelled -- if not, urged -- to argue against that, though your heart stops you from spilling any of those thoughts out. Still, your mind attempts to push through it. Personal feelings couldn't cloud your judgement, if that meant it could bring harm to your child.

"Even if they-"

Hearing the engine rumbling as Papyrus parks close by the sidewalk is a blessing in and of itself; the aforementioned date night with his brother can't get here any sooner. You need to sort your thoughts out once and for all. Almost half a year of waltzing with the seemingly never-ending issue of Frisk's journey and the bonds they made through it was far too much. If you were slowly making friends with those same people too, then you needed to stop this at once. No matter how much you wanted to avoid said confrontation, that had to be done -- for both CPS and reasons beyond.

"You're right." You huff, bring a hand to your forehead, and go lower to massage the brim of your nose. Not a moment after, you fix your glasses, look back to their side, and form a smile. "Thank you, dear."

You close your eyes just before the monster presses a damp cotton ball to your wound. 

Isopropyl makes it sting immediately, yet you're too busy with your thoughts to care about it that much.

"You okay?" Sans asks, meeting your eyes when you open them. "You've been quiet since we got 'ere."

"I'm okay, but…" You think back to how you greeted him with a wave, right as you did with his brother. While the monster before you didn't seem to mind it, you can't avoid the thought of how you used to be with Jerry. It was easier to be more affectionate back then, and it was easier still greeting him with a kiss -- be it a simple one on the cheek or a quick one on the lips. Now, you can't so much as imagine the prospect of doing that with your new partner without overthinking or feeling stressed about it. "I was wondering if we… if we should maybe keep our relationship private -- f- for now?"

He finishes wrapping the bandages and fixes them tight before replying with, "That's fine with me. Did you watch the video?"

"No, I'm…" You grow short of breath at the thought of how many people have likely seen it by now -- how many times it's been shared, and how many more discussions and heated arguments have revolved around it. "I'm too scared to."

You can't bring yourself to look at him any longer, so his expression falls unknown as he suggests watching it together, a question you answer to with a quiet and mumbled 'sure'.

Sans proceeds with a nod and stores all the items used back into the first aid kit before taking out his phone, settling down in bed, and holding your hand with his free one. "Really sure?" he asks, squeezing it once. You reply with an even quieter 'yes' and watch in silence as he clicks on the link sent by what you assume is several people, based on how Undyne, Brenda, and even the man from the train station -- now his friend and your co-worker -- have messaged him the same information, all three left unread. The one he chooses is farther back and dated with yesterday, this one sent by Jerry. 

It plays in an instant and the first thing to appear is Asgore's garden, while murmurs are what compose the audio as the one filming shows himself around a field of trampled flowers, these now a mess of broken pots, thrashed earth, and missing rocks. A few others make him company and engage in small talk, though it ends quickly when one of them shouts for everyone to 'get over here quick'. The group does as told, leading for the cameraman to rush along with them out of the garden and into the Judgement Hall. The audio grows quiet as he ventures further, steps and voices now discreet as he films a fuzzy image of two people sitting at one of the benches laid around, with the exception that one sits on top and has their arms wrapped firm and tight around the other. Multiple people urge the cameraman to approach the scene more, making him show you and Sans kissing, albeit of a blurry quality with how much he has to zoom in so as to not be caught. Even the noise is recorded with how silent everything else is, this one mostly composed of hitched breaths and clothing shuffling against each other as you hug him closer. Thankfully, no kissing noises are recorded, something you assume is due to him having a shapeable skull rather than lips, along with how slow and careful your actions are.

The video ends when the kiss does, and it leaves you in the same silence created right before clicking on it. 

Regardless, Sans opens up the page it was posted on to reveal more information about the creator. 

'Am I the only one who sees something wrong with this stuff? This is the future that awaits us, if we continue to act as if we can live peacefully with these people. Opposing these changes is necessary, if we wish to keep our normalcy. Casual make outs with a being so far from human shouldn't be the norm of our world', reads the caption.

Below, some of the replies read from ones saying the poster isn't the only one who shares those thoughts, to ones who've taken the time to write an entire paragraph about the situation.

'🤢🤮'

'Absolutely not.'

'No, you're not. This is outright hideous.'

'Click here to see my 👄 HOT 🔥 noods 🍝: www.uhohspaghettios.xd'

'Wow, this is just like 1984.'

'Next thing you know, we'll be the ones living in the Underground.'

'I need eye bleach ASAP!!! 😱'

'Yeah, no. Hard pass on whatever the hell I just watched. Why did you even film this?'

'That skeleman is nothing but a closeted cradle-robber. Anyone who's met (Y/N) knows how naïve and childish they are, and them dating someone like that screams bad news. Forget that he's a monster, people! What's more important here's how he's got a liking for them despite that gap -- both mentally AND physically. He should be ashamed for bringing their reputation even further down with this video. At this point, I have trouble believing they'll ever recover from all this.'

'...Ok, but…… Am I the only one who finds this kinda……………… Hot? 👀💦'

'Of course, even a monster would try to have his way with someone like them. Look at how they're dressed!'

'To be fair, you have to have a very high IQ to understand how wrong this stuff is. The degeneracy infesting the Surface nowadays is extremely subtle, and without a solid knowledge of social sciences, most of the immorality will go over a typical person's head. There's also the skeleton's nihilistic outlook, which is deftly woven into his characterisation -- his personal philosophy draws heavily from George Orwell literature, for instance. People like us understand this stuff; we have the intellectual capacity to truly appreciate the depths of these social rejects, to realise that they're not just ridiculous -- they say something deep about LIFE and SOCIETY. As a consequence, people who see nothing wrong with this truly ARE idiots -- of course they wouldn't appreciate, for instance, the humour in the skeleton's existential catchphrase "Genocide is wrong", which itself is a cryptic reference to Er*n Yeag*r from Att*ck on Tit*n. I'm smirking right now, just imagining one of those addlepated simpletons scratching their heads in confusion as our fight against this backwards evolution unfolds itself on their phone screens. What fools... How I pity anyone who disagrees with you and tries to defend this behaviour. 😂'

At the bottom of it all, a neglected comment reads:

'Not only are you and your companions trespassing in an unsafe location, but your recording shows clear evidence you were damaging former King Asgore Dreemurr's property. You have also chosen to film these people without their knowledge despite them being in a private area, and uploaded the footage to a massive social media platform, as well. This is punishable by law, and I will not hesitate to stand for these people, if they decide to file a lawsuit against you.'

What stands out the most goes beyond the commenter's name, as his profile picture is what captures your attention first, regardless of how well-dressed he appears in the image and how small it is without clicking on it. Sans seems to share the same thought as you, as he clicks on the man's account without thinking twice. It takes some time to load, but when it does, your mouth gapes and you find yourself at a complete loss for words.

'Gerardo "Jerry" Gonzalez Gutierrez del Valle. Family practice lawyer since 20XX. Co-founder of the first Alcohol and Smoking Helpline for monsters. Former quarterback for Ebott U's Football League,' his bio reads.

You're overcome by what feels like an hour of silence before you can process what you've read. The age-old experience of reviewing material from your textbook at three thirty in the morning arrives when you try to read through his profile a second time, then a third. Even his pictures are difficult to process, these a variety of him posing with his co-workers at the newly-opened helpline building, screenshots of his progress with quitting alcohol and his strike of days and months sober, images of him in different suits, and -- last but not least -- a couple of Throwback Thursdays from his glory days, featuring both high school and college memories. It's hard to decide which feeling out of multiple is stronger than the rest, as jealousy combines with the slightest thing you expect out of this discovery: being reminded of the good ol' days. Guilt arrives next when growing aware of your current relationship with the one sitting next to you, even if it's only the thought of how happy you used to be with the man in those pictures before everything went haywire.

"You're… You're seeing this too, right?"

You hear him chuckle and see him agree with a nod, though you can't exactly fall back down to Earth again; were this a dream, you would accept it as such.

"Yeah." The monster looks you over once before adding,

"And am I imagining it, or did I catch you smilin' at 'im just now?" He winks. 

"So you're telling me you're really not surprised by this, at all?"

"...Touché."

You stand up and give your back to him, irked by his assumption despite him being nothing close to serious about it. "But, please don't think I still like him." Your hands turn into fists at the thought of going back with someone like him, no matter his current intentions. "I still haven't forgiven him, and I still…" Bile rises to your throat as your stomach churns wildly. "I still hate him." Then, you take a pause to gather strength. "And maybe that's a strong word, b- but… It's hard for me to forget that's the same man who once accused me for every little thing that wasn't 'normal' with Frisk, from them running away the first time, to them refusing to call him dad -- even when I never prevented them from visiting him, and e- even when he stopped visiting them first." Your chest shakes as you huff. "I... I still dislike him, and I really hate that I remembered good things about him just now."

Your mouth refuses to shut up and makes you continue on with, "So if I still can't forgive him, how can I make a decision for CPS with so many of you and in so short of a time? I still can't decide what to do, no... no matter how much I've learnt about everyone else." Your throat turns dry, and you find it difficult to swallow. "Hell, it was only yesterday I finally gave into one of my doubts. I thought it twice before asking if you wanted to kiss, but it'd been in my mind for a long while before that."

"You're sayin' the kiss was you decidin' to trust me?"

"Yes."

He scoots closer to your side and furrows his gaze.

"Even after that dream, and even though I started it?"

"Y... Yes." You do the same as him and smile. "I trust you, and... And I know the dream's likely just me overthinking this. One thing's spilling the truth when you're drunk, and one thing's getting... too caught up in your fears -- to the point where you have these warped dreams about someone else, no matter how much they mean to you."

His irises soften in their light, and a hint of culpability seems to fall on him. "Then I'm sorry for bringin' your ex into this." You sit back down with him and hold his hand again. "It wasn't right."

"It's okay."

"Doesn't look that way."

Before you know it, you're held by your lower back, pulled close, and brought down in bed. 

He stays on top, gaze focused on yours rather than on your lips or anywhere else suggesting something more.

"Have you found that help yet? Counseling, I mean." His gaze remains the same despite having changed topics so abruptly. "How're ya doin', puddin'?"

"Bubbles and Brenda suggested two recently, but I… I still haven't gotten around to calling either one of them."

"Want me to make you company while you try that now? We've got time."

"...Kiss me first, please?"

He lowers more and presses his teeth to your neck.

"Gladly."

Chapter Text

His last kiss turns out to be the longest and most elaborate of them all, to the point where he can feel his face grow hot enough to toast bread on it.

Rather than a smiling visage, he's greeted with a straight face the moment he stops and pulls back. The human meets his gaze with that same expression and doesn't take long to ask, "Do you really feel comfortable being with me like this?" They gulp and later let out a breath. "A while back, you… You said you were still figuring out who you are, right? Are you sure you don't feel uncomfortable doing this with me?"

Sans tugs his shirt's collar down to reveal a hickey underneath. "Asking that after we've been doing this for a good while now?" he asks, biting back a grin. "I don't mind if it's with you -- someone I've gotten to know well."

"But you said you weren't comfortable with stuff beyond cuddling!"

"I said I wasn't sure."

"You said 'hard pass' on making out and-"

"-unless it's someone I'm really close to." He gets near them. "It wasn't a definite answer back then. I still had my doubts, and part of that was... influenced by the life I used to live at the Underground." His thoughts drift to his responsibilities from the past, though he's soon reminded of his current priorities and brushes those memories aside as a result. "Now that I've been through plenty of stuff up here, I understand myself better -- like how showin' affection like this doesn't make me weak, and how it can go beyond family and friends."

"But-"

He leans in again and presses a kiss to their nose. "I like it -- knowin' I'm doing this with someone I like this much." Saying that is his last hope at stopping them from inadvertently making him confess his feelings towards them to such detail. "'Course, I don't think I'm able to do anything beyond makin' out without feeling uninterested in it, but the rest's fine. I like kissin' you, and I don't mind if it gets a lil' messy sometimes."

"Are you sure?" Sans replies with a 'yes' and hears them out as they add, "...Really sure?"

"Really sure." He chuckles and lays down in bed, now met with the view of them sitting up straight. "I'm comfortable when I'm around you, and I like it when you make that cute lil' gasp whenever I kiss you back."

Their eyes look elsewhere as they try to cover their face from his line of sight. "Would you say you're, like… asexual or something like that, then?" They hug their knees to their chest as they contemplate the situation, gaze focused on nowhere in particular as they drift away in their thoughts. "I told Papyrus you might've been uninterested in romance way back then, but if you've had crushes on other people before me, a- and if you want to date me, then…"

"Maybe I'm ace? I'm not too sure yet." He grabs their hand and tugs at them to lie down next to him. "I don't feel an urge or a need for sex -- Don't think I ever have, actually. But if you said to me let's kiss and cuddle 'til we get tired of each other, then that's a solid yes from my part."

The human looks about as unconvinced as he expects them to be, though they seem to relent by the way their face softens up and how they take a while to form a response. "If you say so, then…" They stop for a second to huff. "Then, alright. I've dated a few friends before, so uh…"

"Boastin' over how many people you've dated before me, huh?"

"It- It's not like that!" They cover their fluster away by swatting his shoulder. "It's just… since you're still not sure about what you're comfortable with, and that you're saying you're only comfortable doing this with someone you know well, then I don't want to make you feel as if you need to change, or that you're wrong, or… or that you need to go way out of your comfort zone just for me. There's nothing wrong with not wanting this, so if you ever feel weird about it, then let me know, and I'll stop."

"Thanks, puddin'," he says, winking. "And correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't you say Jerry was your only long-term relationship before me?"

Again, reluctance demonstrates itself in their body language, yet they're quicker to reply this time with, "I had a few... close friends after divorcing him, and some of them were, well, curious and wanting to get their first experiences over with, so we ended up going on a few test dates to see how it all went. Nothing really lasted for too long though, since they all felt better staying as friends, in the end."

"Have you always done that?"

"Done what?"

Though it feels as if he's treading on dangerous grounds now, the chance of them bottling all that up is more of a loss than it is to give it a shot by delving further into the topic. They were patient and tolerant enough to live through all his incessant flirting since the beginning, meaning he can only wish they still have some of that forbearance left in them. If not, then he would have to apologize when and where it best deemed fit.

"Help your friends out like that." He holds their hand tight and hopes to get his point across with a gentle squeeze. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not jealous or anythin' like that. I just wanna know if you've offered yourself to be the test subject for your friends all the time."

Seeing them smile is a blessing, one he hopes stays for a while during their talk.

"Yes -- some of them, anyway." Their breath hitches and their hand grows sweaty. "Most of those I dated were honest about how they weren't too sure about who and what they liked, while some of them, well…" They blink a few tears away and maintain their smile. "Some of them straight up admitted that they wanted to experience something -- anything, really… And that I was an easy target, s- since I'm not too bright, and I'm not too… wanted, either." He squeezes their hand tighter and uses his free one to rub at their back. "One of them told me I wasn't intimidating, and that they felt better asking me for a date, so that they'd have the courage to confess to their actual crush later on." They let go of his hand, wipe more tears off with the sleeve of their shirt, then add, "And... And I didn't mind it -- If I could be useful somehow, then why not, y'know? What hurt sometimes was... liking that person, even while knowing they didn't like me back in that way."

His hand stays on their back, although they don't seem to be acknowledging its presence.

"Those..." He's more than doubtful over his next words, yet he pushes through. "Those don't sound like friends."

As expected, they tense up under his touch and brush his hand away.

"But to me, they were. A- And that's why I feel so stupid taking so long to trust others now… knowing I allowed that stuff before. It doesn't feel fair to judge you and every other monster, knowing I allowed so many boundaries to be crossed before."

He squeezes their hand again and pulls them close, letting their head bump with his. "It's not stupid to set limits, even if it's now that you're doin' it."

They hug him tight and press their face against his chest. "Thank you for listening." A sigh leaves their body and makes them tremble; it's almost a shudder, weren't they under his hold. "I feel less... heavy-hearted now."

"Ready to make that call now?"

"...Yeah." Their happiness remains even as they pull away and reply with, "I'm ready now."

Sans follows them to the kitchen, where he's offered something to eat and drink.

He accepts the second one of the two, needing water to cool down, both in a literal and metaphorical sense. They serve him the drink, then excuse themself and walk off to pick up their belongings while he recovers, soul still thumping loudly against his chest. Albeit how recent, the monster replays the scenario in his mind. His senses take the job of reminding him of how gentle and warm their touch felt -- right until they decided to leave a mark on him and end it with that by bringing forth the subject of what he liked and didn't like.

At that reminder, he sets the empty cup aside and looks for a place where he can see his reflection in. He ends up in front of the television screen, where he can view the evidence of what went on during his conversation with them. Whoever noticed would surely mention it, so he tries to deflect that possibility by rubbing carefully at that spot for a while.

When he pulls his hand back, it's clear he's only worsened the mark, as it now takes up a brighter red, another prominent contrast from his physicality as a monster.

"Come here for a moment."

At the sound of his name being called out and followed by those words, Sans looks to the owner of that voice to see (Y/N) standing nearby, holding up a small pouch in their hand -- one they point out at him. "I'll cover that up for you." Their eyes land on the mark and later on the pouch, a gesture telling him to approach their side and wait. "Hold still," they add, reaching a hand for his neck.

His breaths turn shallow, and he has difficulty not sparing a glance up at them every so often. 

To prevent it, he shuts his gaze, needing to keep his head high for whatever it is they planned to do down there. 

"It's not exactly your colour," they mutter, pressing something soft against the mark. "But it should be enough until you find a tighter-fitting shirt while it fades." They address the looseness of his shirt by tugging at its collar, and the soft feeling returns soon after. "Does it hurt much? I… I didn't know you could bruise like this."

Sans nods and tries to find their arm, holding it tight when he does. "I can," he replies, letting out a laugh. He opens his eye sockets next, aware they're likely finished by now. "But it doesn't hurt that much, though. Only initially."

To further worsen his surprise for today, the human kisses that spot before putting away the items they used to cover up the mark: face paint of a sparkling white colour, along with a thin paint brush. "You're surprisingly gentle despite how… different you look on the outside -- With this kind of stuff, I mean."

Even if the monster's a bit more reserved and -- overall -- inexperienced in that area, he's no fool as to what that means. "...With taking initiative?"

Their lips tug into a smile and they nod. "Yeah. It's... sweet, honestly." They chuckle and shake their head after. "When I first met you and with how obnoxious you were with your flirting, I actually thought you'd be a lot more outgoing with this kind of stuff."

The conversation ends on that note. They walk with him out of their home and lock the door next, one they check twice before leaving. Papyrus waves when he spots them from afar, while Frisk invites them over to sit down on the back seats.

Sans takes the front passenger one and says nothing even as his brother sparks up some conversation with (Y/N), where he asks them about their future plans now that they have another job offer handy.

"I'm still not too sure what to do, but…" Their words trail off, and he's compelled to look at them through the rear-view mirror, seeing a frown power over most of their face. "Taking up Toriel's offer feels bad. I… I don't exactly want to keep benefiting so much from you guys without, well... giving anything back in return."

"Is working with us not enough?" Papyrus asks. His words are assured to come out rough and imprudent were they said by a stranger or an acquaintance, yet they sound genuine and gentle coming from him. "Believe it or not, spending time with us already helps plenty, since that encourages people to lose their fear and interact with us more!" He presses a button and waits for the vehicle's hood to lift, countering the few drops beginning to fall from the sky. "It's like a chain reaction: you make friends with us, and inspire others to do the same!"

There's a bit of silence on their part before they reply with, "Alright," and stop to let out a huff, continuing after with an, "I'll think about it."

Finally, they smile and loosen up.

"Thank you for the help."

Papyrus smiles back -- twice as bright.

"Tell me if you decide! I'd like to know your answer."

When the car parks, Frisk is the first person to get out and walk off to school. Its large and sculptured bushes greet them from a distance, along with Toriel standing by the entrance. There's a new gate surrounding the area, an addition made to improve security and keep students in. Regardless, it doesn't take away from the beauty of its benches, trees, and everything else composing it.

Sans stays back with his brother as he waits for them to have a conversation with Toriel, who welcomes them with a smile and a wave, the same applied to Frisk. A brew of emotions displays itself as the pair have a talk, expressions changing from happy and eager to sad and doubtful. The latter stays consistent for most of the time, its end arriving when Toriel asks them another question, but still associated to the rest based on how their gaze shifts to awe.

"A- Are you serious?"

Based on how loud and clear their question comes out, the goat lady's either insisting over the job offer or bringing forth another option related to it. There's more to their question, and Toriel nods in response when they're done. Whatever the product of their shock had been, it seems to have a positive impact on both people. That thought alone makes him wish he could know what the two are speaking about, yet he stays back, against interrupting and much less hearing in on the conversation. 

Once finished, they enter the building with Toriel by their side, and Frisk follows right after.

"Are you alright, Sans? You look distracted."

With how quiet his surroundings have become since Frisk and their parent stepped out of the car, Papyrus's voice sounds foreign, as if belonging somewhere else. The question brings forth his doubt as to whether his brother knew about his relationship with Frisk's parent, answered when he adds, "You seem a bit... distant from (Y/N) suddenly. Did something happen back there?"

Almost on instinct, Sans's hand reaches for the mark on his neck, made far less visible with the face paint the human used on him. No matter how simple the question is and how much he reminds himself of that, he doesn't answer, guilt absorbing any remote chance for him to defend himself. He knows waiting will only make it worse, but he can't bring himself to snap out of it. He'd been too hasty, and he's now regretting having messed around in his relationship with them until it eventually dissolved into what it was in actuality: one too eye-catching to be taken out of the shadows, and one still too cluttered with obstacles for him to express his feelings fully and earnestly -- the same applying for them. He couldn't with how little he understood about being in a relationship; it was his second -- perhaps, third -- time falling for someone the way he had with a human. They couldn't with how many personal issues they'd left to resolve.

Papyrus sighs, putting an end to Sans's overthinking.

"It's fine if you don't want to answer my question, but please don't take any reckless actions with the human. I am sure you understand they're still learning about us monsters, and that it will take some time until we can get along better than we are now. I just hope you don't dislike them."

Sans chuckles at that; the statement sounds about as odd as he feels over the prospect of him feeling that way about the human. "It's... It's the complete opposite, Paps." His face tightens with a smile, one he can't bring himself to ignore. "They've become someone important to me, actually."

When silence stays longer than it would for someone to answer normally, the skeleton can already tell his brother is onto something.

"Important in what way, exactly?"

Hitting the nail on the head with his suspicions, he's a little less caught off guard by the question. "As a friend, and… And maybe more than that."

"Do you believe yourself ready to tackle something like this, Sans? I am not saying this to discourage you, but… I am still aware of how difficult it is for you to open up -- let alone with someone you feel that way for."

"I think so." Those words come out faster than he expects them to; his conversation from earlier with the human in question helps with the situation, guiding him forward. "I kinda took things too fast with all my flirtin' in the beginning, so now we're back to just takin' it slow."

"So you've dated them before?"

"...Somethin' like that."

Papyrus steps out of the car and waits for him to follow, locking it when they're both out. 

The wind blows strong, scattering leaves everywhere around. There's the scent of wet earth nearby, and grey clouds can be viewed above. A few, thin drops begin to fall, almost seeming to wait for them two to find shelter before the storm.

His brother is one step ahead, already at the door and holding it for him to pass through.

"We'll talk more later," he says, closing the door. "And I hope you're just as honest as you were with me just now!"

Sans laughs and casts his gaze up when hearing muffled commotion from nearby, mind growing just as alert as the posture his brother holds when entering the school. 

They're both greeted by an empty hallway and the closed entrance of a principal's office, sound appearing to be coming from the last one of the two. It's a voice affected by static, making it difficult to decipher just what exactly is being discussed by the person. The door opens the moment he so much as touches the wooden surface. The single, soft knock his knuckles make sends a small figure hugging at him.

Frisk holds on to both monsters and buries their face between them, while an explanation over their actions and shaky state is given by the television hung at a corner wall of the office.

It provides news about an unfortunate event, these far too related to those he held dear to ignore that by simply lowering the volume or changing the channel.

Chapter Text

"Some have packed their bags and are on their way back to the Underground in response to these changes," the news reporter says, tone neutral to mask the worry in her eyes. "Authorities have attempted to bring control over the situation, yet other experts agree it is best that people continue with their choices, some of these being the former Monster King -- Asgore Dreemurr -- himself and family practice lawyer Gerardo Gonzalez, the latter who so happens to be the Monster Ambassador's father."

Sans sees chaos photographed and shown up on the screen, picturing a thrashed district full of what had once been shops of all kinds, from a large and colourful farmer's market to a small, handmade clothing store.  

"The incident has been the last drop in the bucket, ending multiple friendships, but strengthening some, too. It's believed those who've refused to end their ties with monsters are now moving in with them to the Underground, and have upped security measures there to avoid any further complications."

The next thing to show up on the television makes him usher Frisk off with Papyrus, who nods, grabs the child's hand, and pulls them along with him. The screen presents a blurred picture of them, taken when they'd freed monsters from the Underground. Next to their picture stands a real-time recording of a highway, with nothing short of a death threat written out in large, bold letters on the walls, covering up the murals that once stood displaying art of various types. 

'Wanna be Batman when you grow up? Now's your chance, kid', the newest addition reads at the top. A stick figure family of three, with Frisk's face the most detailed and distinctive, accompanies the message. The two taller figures have their heads crossed out, while two separate dates are found underneath them. 'Luckily, it's not a choice. Just be careful who you're kind to next time', it continues at the bottom.

"The incident has been sent under research, though authorities advise that the ambassador's parents take prompt action to protect their child at all costs. Child Protective Services is already underway to talk with both parents about the situation, therefore taking their title away and any relations formed through it."

Sans's irises part from the television to fall on Toriel and (Y/N), both who are hugging each other close, with their eyes shut tight and grip about as strong as the rain beginning to pour.

The world seems to slow and weigh down on him as the situation finally clicks in his mind; the office now feels like the sole place left in it as he considers what can be done.

To nobody's surprise, Brenda's the first to call, and she only worsens her relationship with them as she screams a variety of insults and complaints, just the right amount of loud for him to hear most. Their phone continues to ring and beep, though they ignore it and throw their weight on a chair instead. They lay a hand over their face and melt in it. How distracted he gets by their current state makes him almost dismiss the news completely when the commercials end. Thankfully, a familiar voice helps him snap out of it.

"And what are your thoughts on the threat, mister Gonzalez?"

He moves his gaze from his partner to the screen, where he sees Jerry attending an audience at the governor's emergency reunion.

The man carries a facial expression unlike ever before, cold enough to freeze anyone within viewing distance. 

"I couldn't care less if my life is on the line. I've drunk myself to near death before, and I feared that more than I fear these tactless, God-awful threats." Jerry stops to draw in a sharp breath, one that helps him gain further sobriety. "But threats against my child and their primary care parent will not be tolerated." He places a hand over the podium as he clenches his jaw. A few tears can be seen at the corners of his eyes, yet he blinks these aside in a flash. "And I will more than gladly reward anyone of trust if they can assure the security and well-being of my family. No matter what it takes." A secretary walks in, sets a water bottle down on his counter, and leaves right after. "I already caused enough trouble as it was, and having more to be made by complete strangers who have no business being mad at a child doing nothing wrong is the last thing I will approve. If CPS wants to remove their title, then so be it. I know it's all for their safety, but..." He huffs and spares a glance at the bottle. Then, he grabs it, opens it, and takes a quick drink before continuing with, "But that does not mean I'll allow for all the sources of their happiness to be taken away like this." 

An influx of questions and commentary are thrown at him, though the security guards calm the crowd down.

His grim face returns as he adds, "Going back to that threat," then stops to narrow his eyes at the camera, "Go ahead and live up to the one against me, but just know you'll have to pry this case out of my casket."

As if in a ritual of some sort, the guards have to push back the mass and -- now louder -- tell them to silence.

"I love you -- all three of you," Jerry continues. "My ex-spouse, their boyfriend, and our child, and… And I'm sorry for everything I've done. I know I can't make things right at the moment, but I'll try to lessen the impact of this situation as best as I can."

The camera stops recording and all the attention goes back to the reporter, who straightens up in her seat the second she notices it's her time to speak once more.

"The child's father has already taken matters into his own hands, though we have yet to hear much about their primary care parent. We will be contacting them shortly in hopes they can provide us with information about their plans, as well as if they agree with their ex-husband's actions." She sets some papers down and changes her stern gaze for a small smile. "Stay tuned for more at ten."

When the television returns to displaying commercials, his irises wander back to the chair, only to find it empty, with their belongings being what's left of their presence.

"Are you sure you can do this?"

Sans looks towards the voice to see they're just as busy doing something -- answering the telephone on Toriel's desk while writing stuff down on some papers, then slipping these in a folder. Their phone can be heard vibrating every few seconds -- more frequently than before -- thus letting known why their choice for making calls is a public line rather than their personal one. They tap their foot in a quick motion, enough for the chair's wheels to squeak. Everything about them screams stress, yet they push through. Toriel offering support every so often through a squeeze on their shoulder or a brush on their back seemingly helps them with that, also.

"Then I'll talk with Bubbles and let him know."

Jerry's voice can be heard replying, though scarcely, given the distance he's at.

"N- No," they add, "I don't think I should trouble him anymore."

Another response from their ex.

"What? That sounds-"

Their face changes from one of worry to embarrassment, while he can only be left to wonder over the cause of the change.

"Should I, really? But, um… He's got a few dogs in his home, and I'm allergic, s- so wouldn't it be wrong to tell him he has to do something about it?"

More words are heard on Jerry's part.

"A- Alright. I'll talk with him soon." Their voice softens up as they breathe in deep and add, "Thank you, Jerry. It… It means a lot."

He replies quickly.

"You, too."

They hang up and stay sitting for a good while, until he decides it's better to break the ice by approaching their side.

His steps aren't as confident as he wishes them to be, and he doubts himself as to whether he's capable enough to fulfill a role he'd failed to accomplish plenty of times before.

In any case, Sans has no time to be doubting himself presently, and he figures that the best he can do is -- oddly enough -- act without thinking.

"What's up?" he asks, placing a hand on their shoulder.

They tense up and almost seem to shake under his hold. Their shoulders are rigid as they try to turn around to face him. "Can I…" They trail off and have trouble looking at him. "Uh…"

"Yeah?"

They breathe in deep. "Can I mo…" 

Again, they stop halfway through their sentence.

Knowing it's not the right time to find them cute, he clears his figurative throat and asks, "Moo?"

However fleeting, he feels relieved to see them smile.

"Can Frisk and I move in with you?" they blurt out, words almost a shout. "I- I'll pay for rent, food, water, and-"

"Why would I even ask for something like that, at a time like this?" he intervenes, reaching a hand out for their face to feel how hot their skin has turned. Then, he pulls back and says, "'Course you can. Just gotta move the dogs outta the house before I let you in. Figure they can stay outside, so long as I set everything up first."

"...Are you sure?"

As if rehearsed, his phone rings with a notification.

It's two messages from Jerry.

Hey. 

I need you to do a big favour for me and let Frisk and (Y/N) stay at your place. I'll pay for any expenses and cover for any additional security measures needed, so please take them with you. I know it's probably too fast considering you've just begun dating, but… Please? Or at least, until I can find a safer place for them to move into? If you don't want to sleep in the same bed as them, I can cover up the costs of that, too.

Not even a minute passes before another message pops up.

Pretty please? 🥺🙇🏽‍♂️

And sorry.

For… a lot of things.

Attachment – 1 file named 'Apology'

The prospect of sleeping on the same bed hadn't occurred to him until now. Memories from his stay with them at Mettaton's new hotel return to his mind -- of how he'd tried to do that, only to move over to the couch the second their dozed-off self decided he was comfortable enough to spoon for the rest of the night. Although he's aware of how long it's been since that day, Sans feels skittish at the thought of having to do that again. He could simply tell them to share the extra bedroom with Frisk and be done with it, yet a nagging feeling at the back of his head advises him over the contrary. 

He'd already kissed them and seen them in clothes different from their uniform or casual clothing. 

What was there to be shy about?

k.

...Dude. 😠

i'm serious.

they're more than welcome to stay at my place.

'More than welcome', you say? 😏

yeah.

...Bro…

You're no fun. 😔

talk later?

gotta get this over with.

☹️

i mean that in the nicest way possible.

as in, i don't wanna waste time moving them in.

and i can sleep together with (y/n).

i've got an extra bedroom frisk can use, too.

so there's no issue with space.

😃

see ya.

👋🏼🥰

👋💀

He slips his phone away and goes back to the matter at hand.

Knowing the best medicine for the moment is to distract his partner from the situation, Sans grabs their hand, and pulls them out of their seat. "Let's go take a walk around the school first," he says, squeezing it. "Maybe we won't be able to open it yet, but it'd be good to know what it could become in the future, don't ya think?" With them now standing up, he has to look higher to see their smile. "And then we'll drive to my place to show you around -- But without you touchin' anything 'til I let the dogs out, of course."

Quieter than usual, they choose to reply with a squeeze back at his own, and later wave at Toriel when he leads them out of the office.

When the door closes, they let go of his hand, letting his insecurities over the effectiveness of his actions rise, until they use it to hold his cheekbone and kiss him there. They then pull away and extend their arms out at him, doing almost a T-pose, but not quite. As such, he does that back, gaining yet another smile -- and this time a chuckle -- from them before he goes on to do what they really mean. He hugs them, apparently too tight so that they have to let that known by gasping. Where that strength comes from is unknown to him, though he links it with how long it feels since he last did that, and just how much he wants to have them at his home.

"You good?" he asks, letting them go.

"...Yeah." They breathe out and grin. "All good."

Chapter Text

"Are you okay?"

It feels like a crime to break eye contact with how deep their stare is and how strong their grip on his hand becomes.

"Why the question?"

Their eyebrows furrow and a hint of a frown reveals itself on their lips. 

"Well, you hugged me with a strength that could leave Superman wincing, and now…" They let go. "Now you're looking all grey and gloomy."

Sans feels conflicted for choking up at such a simple comment. The edges of his eye sockets immediately water, and a growing tightness takes no time to form on his rib cage. Though he hadn't addressed it before, he notices how cold his hands are when compared to almost everything else around him, be it his partner, the bench he's sitting at, or even his clothing. A tear makes its way down his skull, one his company cleans up through a peck. "You never told me you felt, well… down? Depressed? Do you still feel like that, or did I understand you wrong?"

"...Yeah. You're not mistaken." He rests his head on their shoulder and looks up at them. "I take it Frisk told you about that?"

"No." Their hair tickles his face as they shake their head. "They haven't said anything too personal about you, but I haven't forgotten about that day we spent together on the couch. You broke up crying, and you never seemed to look back at it." They pause to squeeze his hand, then rub his knuckles with their thumb. "It just… It just makes me think you're hiding something."

"How come you still remember that?"

"What kind of question is that? I care about you, duh."

They're more than direct with their way of comforting him, as with each quiet tear he sheds, they approach him with a kiss or with the graze of their fingers across his skull.

"I guess I never gave it too much thought after that day."

"You're lying." With their hand, they cup his chin, bring him closer to make him meet directly with their eyes, and let their frown show again. "I doubt you'd forget something like that. If you had, then I don't think you'd be shedding tears like this." More persuasive than he cares to admit, they let go of his face and use his ever-growing feelings against him by locking their arms firmly but gently around his neck. "So, could you tell me more about this, please?"

He tries to stand his ground and dodge their questions by avoiding their gaze.

"And what about that reaction you had to thunder a few times before? Does that all mean nothing anymore? That I've seen it happen, and that it's affected you? The last time I saw that, you were shaking a lot, and… And you were sweating just as much, too. You tell me to take care of myself more, yet you don't apply that advice for yourself."

"You're the one who's in danger, though."

"But that doesn't mean your problems are any less important."

They stand up from the bench and offer to pull him up.

"If you care about me, why can't I do the same? I want you to be happy, too, and I-"

He grabs their arm and -- rather than allowing them to tug him up -- he tugs them right back down instead.

"Stop."

"Stop what?"

"Saying things like that." Though he'd already done that outside the office, he hugs them a second time to avoid meeting their face. "It makes my soul burn."

A hug turns into a kiss on the cheek, and a kiss on the cheek turns into him kissing their neck, then their lips. Sans carries on that way until he has them caught in his hold, once more reminding himself of that day at their couch. He corners them on the bench, with a hand placed on their lower waist and the other underneath their shirt, brushing against their navel, and gradually going upwards until he almost reaches their chest. Returning their words through touch is the single thing he can think of as the rain falls harder, drowning out the booming noise of his soul racing, of their heart beating, and of their exhausted breaths when he kisses them for too long. Thankful thunder isn't present to ruin his day, he continues, though they don't allow him to go further than a chaste kiss to their lips. They push him away and fix their shirt after that, wrinkled as an aftermath of his actions.

"Hold up," they say, narrowing their gaze at him. "You're not… thinking straight, are you?" Their forehead scrunches up in response to their worried glare. "Why did you do that all of a sudden?"

"I'm not exactly dense," he replies, looking at them when they sit upright. "I knew that burn in my chest had somethin' to do with you, and so I did somethin' about it."

"But you're usually not this physically forward." They've only become more concerned based on the look on their face. "You're acting differently. Flirting is your fort, not…" Despite the unease in their words, they glance away -- at the flowerbed next to the bench -- in what he deems as them being bashful towards him. "And not whatever that just was." He grabs their cheek to feel it's grown just as hot -- if not, hotter -- than when they brought forth the topic of moving in with him back at Toriel's office. "Not that I mind it, but… Something feels a bit off about this, with you suddenly throwing yourself at me."

He lets their cheek go. "Is it wrong to try new things?"

"Of course not, but…" They huff and mutter an apology. "I know you understand yourself better than I ever could. It's just that I'm worried you're being thrust into this because of us moving in together." A wistful stare shows up when they observe the small puddle forming by the playground's central garden, as the rain grows torrential -- to the point where the roof can't repel some of it. "Here are a few points," they continue. "First, you're being influenced by that threat, so that would mean what you're doing now isn't entirely based on your usual wants." They finally look at him and grin. "Second, we're at a school. Though it's only Toriel and a few staff, anyone can still pass by and see us. History shouldn't repeat itself, y'know?" He receives a kiss from them, likely the final one for today based on their body language. "If you want to get more intimate later on, we can, but… Could we give this some more time? If we make it through this, we can try taking it further. But right now, we should go one step at a time. Pushing you to do things so quickly isn't good. You do you, not what you think others want you to do."

Though he recognizes what they're speaking about goes right with what's roaming through his mind, he simply can't turn his worries on and off like a light switch. The thought of them traveling alone to work sends all the wrong chills to his spine. That same feeling insists on not only taking the next step with them, but on finding an option where they can arrive at their job with someone else for company, or quit altogether -- to forget about it and find a different area of employment at a safer and nearby location. The mass amount of disorder and destruction pictured in the news had been at the same city they worked in, and the place the threat was painted at was far too close to the road he remembered driving past that one time they called him for help when they were sick. With too many warning signs and not enough options, it feels erroneous to let them go like this, yet he also knows he's in no position to preoccupy them any more than they appear to be by default.

Frankly put, he wants to spend a night with them and keep them close in his arms, as mawkish as that thought of his may seem.

But he's not gonna tell them that.

"Alright, but… Could you still move in, starting tomorrow mornin'?" Sans asks, surprising himself with how soft that question comes out. "The house would be all set up by then, and we can stay at Tori's place today while all the initial panic cools off."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're drunk out of your mind, Serif."

"Back to using last names, huh?"

They smile wide, almost smug.

"Yes."

"Ouch."

"Until you tell me the reason why you're acting so mushy." They poke the top of his nose cavity. "I wanna hear those reasons right out of you."

He breathes out a long, defeated sigh. "Do I have to?"

"What do you think, mister Comic Sans Serif?"

"Cut me some slack, babe."

"Nu-uh."

He lays his hand over theirs. "Please?"

Their posture softens, though the same can't be said about their face. "Nope."

"Are you guys acting like children on purpose, or am I missing something here?"

Undyne arrives at the playground. 

Fitness equipment of various sorts and sizes rests in her arms, these she takes to the storage room set close by. All the stuff that had been neatly and thoroughly arranged is being put away, and -- judging by her gloomy posture alone -- he doesn't have to ask her why she's doing that. She first casts a wary look at them, then carries it over to him. Her hand falls hard on his shoulder and nearly cracks his bones as she gives him a rough, but no less encouraging pat.

"Couldn't help listening to you guys while I was walking in here, so…" Her eye falls on his partner, who shrinks in their seat. "I thought I was oblivious when I started dating Alphys, but damn. You're leading the competition!" Those words are directed at them, and -- for some reason -- she seems to be favouring his side of the situation almost completely. "Why do you think he's acting mushy? You said it yourself! He wants to cuddle you after seeing the news, but he's too much of a dork to admit it. So of course he can't say that outright!" She looks at him again. "That's it, isn't it? You just wanna smooch them more than usual?"

"Undyne, please st-"

She interrupts them with, "But I agree that maybe you should wait until your head cools off before you go any further with them."

"Undyne!"

"Just in case, though…" The woman grins wide, giving off a cheeky expression. "Maybe buy some sweets, petals, and wine. That'll set up the mood! And I'm pretty sure the tin can's newest hotel isn't too far from here, so there's that, too."

No protest from (Y/N)'s part makes him spare a glance at them to see they've buried their face against their satchel, hugging their embarrassment away with it.

"Fish caught your tongue?" he asks, poking their side.

In response, their breath hikes. 

They jolt, and -- in reflex -- throw the bag at him, coincidentally aiming at his face.

"How in the world can you be so calm about this?" they snap, glaring at him when Undyne catches the object.

"I have virtually little to no nervous system."

Were they an electronic device, he would imagine them overheating.

Instead, their human response is to stand up and leave.

"Wait."

They're gone by the time he tries to stop them.

The rain's calmed down, though the noise seems to stay the same -- loud and persistent.

"Uh… Sorry, dude," Undyne says, a nervous chuckle leaving her mouth. "Looks like I went too far, but just know that I was mostly teasing them!" She sighs and sits down next to him. "I forget how they're still trying to make that final decision with the social worker, and I just act like we're old friends. Seeing them get angry today really… reminded me of the situation, more than what's happening already."

"Kinda forgot about that, too," he confesses, scratching the back of his skull. "I got so caught up in my feelings, I uh… forgot they only recently said they trusted me."

"Freakin', dammit!" She groans and slaps a hand over her forehead, rubbing her temples. "I can't believe I screwed up your-"

Just as he thinks both he and Undyne have pressured the human far too much today, Sans hears his phone chime multiple times.

He slips it out of his pocket and looks to see they've left something in the group chat, with others in the process of typing.

👤: Guys?

I feel like I suddenly know nothing about who I'm dating.

In other words…

I don't know how to do all this mushy stuff anymore.

And now he's more skilled than I am. 😭

💁🏻‍♀️: And why are u confessing this *here*, of all places?!?!?!

U *do* know 💀's still in the chat, right?

And... HONESTLY???

The absolute NERVE of u asking 2 singles for dating advice, and in the SAME place the other non-single is.

👤: I plan on ignoring him for now.

And sorry…

But it just feels like I'm experiencing everything for the first time again.

💁🏾‍♂️: hey.

i'm here!!!

what did i miss?

💁🏻‍♀️: @👤's asking for dating advice.

💁🏾‍♂️: oh, wow.

that's… interesting.

honestly, i'm not surprised.

💁🏻‍♀️: I swear they're rubbing it in.

Because *no one* can be this bad at dating.

👤: You underestimate my power.

I went back with Jerry, not one time

But *two* times.

And then I was still surprised when it didn't work out that last time.

💁🏾‍♂️: impressive.

💁🏻‍♀️: Don't encourage this. 🤦🏻‍♀️

PDF Attachment - 10 Things You Didn't Know About Skeleton Monsters. Number 15 Will Surprise You!

💁🏾‍♂️: is…

is this written by you, dude?

yeah

dunno if it can help answer their questions about me

but it's still worth a try, if they wanna know more.

💁🏾‍♂️: alright.

hey @👤, read this.

PDF Attachment - 10 Things You Didn't Know About Skeleton Monsters. Number 15 Will Surprise You!

👤: Thank you, @💁🏾‍♂️!

what kinda cruel punishment is this, puddin'?

👤: So, as I was saying…

I went through that PDF, and…

Looks like there's a LOT I didn't know yet.

My aunt was right about one thing, it seems.

And it's that I *really* need to learn more about monsters.

But still…

Aside from basic physical and psychological stuff

I also *did* learn that,

According to Number 15,

The last thing you would want on your skeleton is a [REDACTED], but as it turns out, that might be what you'll get.

💁🏾‍♂️: oh, damn.

what in the sh*pe of w*ter is that?

did i read that article right, @💀?

👤: Who're you talking to, @💁🏾‍♂️?

Who's 💀?

babe

i get that you're mad at me, but…

please stop.

also, yeah @💁🏾‍♂️

i have a [REDACTED].

👤: Sticker - No. 😐

💁🏾‍♂️: Gif - 🤯

💁🏻‍♀️: Sticker - Oh, 💩!

👤: Anyway, guys…

Do you think I should maybe quit while I'm at it?

The boss wants to speak with me, but…

I'm scared of even stepping foot into her office.

Let alone telling her I plan on quitting and moving somewhere else.

💁🏻‍♀️: U should go for it.

Ur safety's more important, obvi.

And u can find a safer place to work at.

But not, like, literally the business *right* next to the road the death threat was written at.

That's mad 80's slasher film vibes, imo. 

💁🏾‍♂️: i agree with @💁🏻‍♀️.

you should quit.

just do it through e-mail or something.

she should be mindful enough not to make you visit that place again.

👤: Alright...

And thank you. 🙏

I'll go do that tomorrow.

💁🏻‍♀️: Just leech off ur boyfriend for now, k?

Give him ur love as payment. 🥴

💁🏾‍♂️: what she said.

knowing him, he won't mind.

👤: Huh???

What boyfriend? 🤨

🗿

💁🏾‍♂️:🗿

💁🏻‍♀️:🗿

The group chat grows as calm as a tree after a stormy weather.

Not knowing how long their silent treatment will last, he stores the phone away, though he still has to take it out again when it rings once, then two consecutive times more.

It's three messages from his partner.

Hey, stranger!

PDF Attachment - MTT Grand Resort

Do you wanna go there tomorrow? 👉👈

He waits to read what else they have to say when he notices they're in the process of typing more stuff.

The phone beeps twice.

My treat.

Attachment - 1 Image

Safely said, they take revenge.

He clicks on the loading file to see a recent photo of them, with a flirty note similar to the one they sent when they were trying on new clothes, and with their hiding spot being revealed in the blurry background. 

Send me a picture of you back, if you want to go.

Though that's their latest message, he can only stare at the previous photo like a guinea pig having an existential crisis.

Fortunately, Undyne steps in and saves the day by taking the phone from his hands and snapping a somewhat decent picture of him once he's done staring at the void.

Attachment - 1 image

HECK YES!!! OMG

Uh, I mean…

yeah sure, puddin'.

already lookin' forward to it.

love ya 😘😘😘

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

"I'm not hungry."

"C'mon."

He joins them in bed and lies atop, obliging them to look up at him.

"You go, dude. I'm fine."

"That's the biggest lie I've ever heard."

Aware of where this is escalating towards just by the smile they let show, Sans leans close and presses a kiss to their cheek, low enough to be considered their jaw.

"I'm not going if you aren't," he says, grinning. "So that means I'll have to eat you instead."

"I'm probably too salty for your taste."

The monster reaches for their neck, finds a spot they can cover with their shirt's collar, and sucks at their skin; then, he pulls away. "Nah," he comments, laughing. "You're more sweet n' sour, if anything."

Seemingly having caught on to the situation, they ask, "Is... the door locked?"

He looks towards it and uses a small fraction of his magic to verify that.

When it doesn't budge, he answers with a nod.

They bring him closer and wrap their arms around his neck, keeping him suspended over them.

"I-"

"Meow!"

"What the hell does that cat want n-"

His exasperation is cut short as he hears another meow more desperate than the previous one.

It sounds near the balcony, so he goes to check the noise.

"Stay here, puddin'," he says, pulling away and standing up.

The sound of a rowdy fistfight makes him pause halfway through.

"You shouldn't go alone," the human blurts, getting up from the bed. They fix their disheveled state, and all the embarrassment from what they'd been doing with him in bed fades.

"Meow!"

Knowing he can't wait much longer, Sans stands up and arrives at the table with his belongings, from where he retrieves a large and well-worn backpack, mostly empty with the exception of some daily utilities and the one thing he wanted to avoid since he agreed to Asgore's conditions of watching over Frisk's parents. At the very bottom, cushioned and protected by one of his spare jackets, rests the box he'd ignored since he signed that agreement, and even more since the day Jerry gave him the official Surface approval for it. The thought of what its use implies makes him feel as cold as Snowdin, yet he's aware there aren't many options available at the present moment. He had to fight fire with fire if he had only one chance to protect the human with him, plus the cat shouting for anyone's help. For once, magic was as useful as bringing a knife to a gunfight.

Bracing himself through tight shoulders, he takes out the weapon, stores the empty box away, and looks back to the one waiting for him.

"You should follow behind me and watch my back, then," the monster states, meeting their eyes as he secures the revolver tight in one hand. "That threat's still fresh, so we shouldn't risk it."

Their eyes stay wide and their mouth lays agape. "Y- You have a gun?!"

He nods and tries not to let his sentimentality get to him when he sees they react just a tad too surprised and fearful overall, for someone who he deemed as his significant other.

But what did he expect?

They'd only just managed to trust him.

And now he's... waving a firearm at their face!

"It got approved thanks to Jerry," is the only thing he can speak aloud.

"Meow!"

At that fourth call for help, he signals for them to follow him and arrives at the balcony to see the gardener now lying limp and beaten on the floor. Blood stains his matted fur, and his state worsens as more kicks and punches are thrown at him. His face remains stern as he looks up at his set of attackers, and he spits fresh blood at their feet when one of them lands a solid hit at his mouth, breaking some teeth.

"Which room, C*lvin Kl*in?" the woman with the eagle mask asks, yanking the victim's chin to make him look at her. "Loops don't work here, so why are you trying so damn hard to protect them? Save your own ass first, dammit!" She lets go and places her foot on top of the feline's head, pressing on it as a warning. "You have one minute before I crack your skull open."

The skeleton aims at the floor close to her, yet he's stopped by his partner placing a hand over his arm.

"I'm not gonna hurt anybody," he says, hoping to get his message across. "I'm pointin' at the ground."

"Still," they reply, frowning. "You drank a little, so if something happens..." Their fingers almost dig into his bones with the strength they apply. "They'll blame you, and I don't want you in jail." Their grip is strong and produces pain, though he doesn't say anything, nor does he brush them off. "I- It's my fault. I shouldn't have made you drink while... while knowing you're meant to protect me."

"That won't happen, so don't blame yourself."

"How can you be so sure about it?"

"It's hard to explain."

Click.

He prepares to shoot.

Based on the movement he registers from the one with him, he can tell they flinched in response to the noise.

Their hand continues to hold him back, and he can see his arm attain a subtle shade of red from the pressure they exert over him.

"I'll give them what they want," they insist. "That should keep them from hurting him, so don't do it."

"I can't allow that. You should stay ba-"

They cut him off to shout, "Hey," and continue with an, "Over here!" as they stay behind him.

The masked trio halt what they're doing and look up in the direction of the noise.

"Leave him alone," Sans adds, now the center of attention. "And then we can talk."

His companion huffs and changes his plans by brushing him off themself. "I'm here," they repeat, walking up to the rails of the balcony. "Get away from him! He's got nothing to do with me."

"M- Mew!"

The cat's call is desperate as he tries to stand up. The woman holding him back doesn't retaliate, yet he's too weak to get off the ground on his own. With how dilated and teary his gaze is, it's not farfetched to assume he didn't want for them to expose themself like that.

"You were gettin' all freaky with your boyfriend in there, weren't you? Or does this hotel gotta reputation for hosting shirtless men?" the man in a fox mask asks, tone hinting at him to be grinning. "Hey -- You know what? Maybe if you show us a video, we'll listen."

"Blech," the Calico hisses, closing his eyes and shuddering afterwards.

"Ugh. Same," the eagle comments, offering her sympathy towards him. "I don't think I'd like to see that."

He catches the last one of the three -- a man in a deer mask -- pulling out a pistol from his holster.

Acting fast, he aims a sharpened bone at his armed hand, then another two at both of his legs, piercing through his flesh and toppling him over.

The one with him lets out a relieved sigh.

"I won't repeat myself," he says, revolver still out. "Leave the cat, and take off your masks. I wanna see who I'm dealin' with." He takes a quiet breath as he faces the middle one of the three -- the fox. "Though judging by your voices, I can bet one of you's Bus Guy."

He tries not to get distracted by the person with him, who now has their eyes shut tight even while looking away from the scene, already braced for a gunshot.

Nevertheless, him ending up in jail sounds better than risking the possibility of those below to shoot before him.

"...Bus Guy?" the eagle asks, genuinely confused.

"The dude who fought (Y/N) twice; one on public transport, and the other on Asgore's property." Sans points the weapon at the devil in question. "C'mon. I don't like using these, but it feels like it's the only way you'll listen to me." He grins down at the man. "These things are stupidly chaotic, I'll admit. One shot in the right place, and you take a whole life away. Just like that. Life's more precious than that, so it's kinda ironic how easily it can all end."

"What are you -- Batman with a Shakespeare phase?" the fox asks, snickering. "Cut the crap already and shoot me!"

Sans looks to the injured deer cradling his now punctured, bleeding legs and sees the pistol he'd taken out is still waiting there, left abandoned on the floor.

With what little energy he can gather, the Calico drags himself to the weapon, adjusts its safety lock, checks it twice, and... secures it right between his pecs.

He later smiles at the skeleton and gives him a thumbs up, signaling the coast is clear.

The human holds him back again and forces him to lower his aim. "Please," they whisper. "Even if it's in self-defense, y- you know they won't listen. Maybe you have Jerry by your side, but... But you can't really know for sure." They hug his back with a strength opposite to their tone, then kiss his neck. "...I don't want to lose you."

Just as he considers setting it aside, he sees a gun from the corner of his iris, this time taken out by the woman who'd shown the cat sympathy.

Before he can aim, that same monster beats him to it.

He takes the one resting on his chest, removes the lock, and aims with suspicious ease at the hand holding the weapon.

"Nah," Sans says, putting his down. He holds both his hands up in surrender and looks straight at the man challenging him to avoid letting the cat out of the bag. "I'm good."

"Glad we've reached an agreement, buddy." The skeleton can almost hear the smile on the fox's face. As expected, the only armed person left aims at his partner's head and waits for the signal to be given. "I just hope you won't miss 'em too mu-"

Bang!

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Whatever your intentions were last night, the results were… far simpler than you imagined they would be.

A shower together composed of sneaky glances at each other, occasional banter, awkward smiles, and quiet conversations.

Then him being the big spoon while you went to bed in your underwear.

And that was it.

Nothing more; nothing less.

Truth be told, you're both still getting used to the relationship, and you can further confirm that today when you wake up and nearly flinch at the sight of him still being the big spoon.

Sans hasn't moved an inch, despite it being almost ten hours since you stopped cuddling and went off to sleep.

You don't want to wake him, but you also don't want to be trapped in bed, aimlessly staring at the ceiling while you wait for him to do that on his own. So, you decide to observe around, and that's when you spot your salvation: your phone by the nightstand at his side, almost within your reach. All you need to do is scoot away from his arms, then lean over him, stretch, and you're done. If you fail, you'll end up waking him up with your shuffling around, either way. If you succeed and are careful enough not to wake him up, you'll have updates on yesterday's situation at the tips of your fingers, and – frankly – that's something you simultaneously stress and look forward to. Perhaps, they'll be good news, or perhaps not, but news are news, and you'll just be grateful to have an update on the situation. Hoping for the best has grown tiring, at this point. All you crave is some closure – be it positive or not.

With a hand placed ever so cautiously over Sans's chest, you lean over him and stretch out, how long you've been laying down bringing forth all sorts of aches, pains, and stiffness.

But you're able to get your phone back without waking him up, and that's good enough for now – you'll rub those sores off later.

A locked screen and low battery greet you, along with thirty-six unread messages, four missed calls, and two voicemails. The last notification marks an hour ago, and that makes you look at the time better to notice it's… not exactly morning anymore. You assume the messages are likely people growing worried that you're not picking up, so you unlock the screen and verify to see if your suspicions are correct.

🐟: ANSWER ME!!!!!

That's one of the newest messages from Undyne, though the most recent one of all contrasts greatly.

🐟: Ditch everything I've just said.

Alphys told me you're probably busy, so…

Have fun. ;)

And that's that.

Undyne had texted you early in the morning, and thirty minutes later, she'd ended with that suggestive message and goofy winky face.

Similar reactions apply for two other people's messages – or, well, one person and a group chat – these being your coworker group chat, currently named '🗿', and Alphys herself. Your coworkers' texts are just about the opposite of panicked. Alphys's are quite the contrary, until she ends her rushed texts with a calmer one saying she'd been informed better about what happened, and that she would be looking over the situation in more detail while you 'had your fun'. 

It started with:

💁🏻‍♀️: OMG @👤 R U OK???

💁🏾‍♂️: yeah, we've been calling you, but…

just give us a call as soon as you can, okay?

And it ended with:

💁🏻‍♀️: I TAKE BACK WHAT I SAID

We came over to visit this morning, and a horse guy told us what happened. 👀

💁🏾‍♂️: yeah.

have fun @👤!

you too, @💀.

😉

As for Alphys, her messages started with:

🦎: why aren't you picking up? (｡•́︿•̀｡) 

aNd why isn't Sans picking up either???

And ended with:

🦎: Nevermind ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

gotta give horse guy props for giving me info!!!

ttyl. >:3c

Reading messages from other folks – your (soon former) boss, Frisk, Toriel, Papyrus, and quite a few more – and connecting all the dots leads to… you needing to have a talk with the 'horse guy' you'd seen chatting with Sans at the basketball court. All routes lead to him (and your coworkers to a certain degree), with most of the panic in people's texts vaporizing when saying they'd: 'heard the news from a goofy horse man with a goofier smile on his face', and that they'd received further updates on the situation from 'your friends'. And while having people say they'd received news from 'friends' instead of 'coworkers' leaves you wondering if they actually see you as their friend, the more important thing here is you likely have a random guy you don't know spilling personal stuff to everyone who asks about you or Sans – personal stuff you'd genuinely rather… not have everyone learn about.

But you'll get to that problem later.

Currently, you want actual news on yesterday night, and not a soap opera centered around your relationship with the one in bed right… under you.

You hear a whistle as you're thinking about that, and you look down to see bright white irises staring up at you.

"What a view," Sans says, and then, you realize you still haven't moved at all since retrieving your phone from his side. "Wait, don't move."

With curiosity being a force stronger than your need to find a more comfortable place to sit in while looking at all those messages, you hadn't acknowledged the fact you've been holding yourself up over him this whole time, and – when you do – your arm weakens and wobbles, sending you on top of him.

And he seems more than eager to assist in stabilizing you. A hand holds your waist, while the other grabs your chin when you try to look elsewhere. He's grinning like a drunken man, and…

He actually isn't.

You lean closer, trying to search for the faintest scent of alcohol, but there's no off scents – just your own morning breath you'd rather not shoo him off with, so you cover your mouth and break free from his hold on your chin.

"...I need to brush my teeth," you state, glaring down at him. "Let go."

"Nah," he retorts, winking. "Not until you say the magic words."

"Now," you exclaim, raising your voice to make up for your palm muffling most of the sound. "...Please."

He chuckles and pulls away.

"Close enough."

"Do you… want to get something to eat?" you ask, when you've both finished washing up and doing your (not-so) morning routine. "I could make something, but I'm kind of… not feeling it right now, honestly."

And you say that last part in the most grotesquely cute-ish way possible – the manifestation of the '👉👈' emoji incarnate.

"If you stop talkin' like that, sure," he replies, throwing a shirt on. "I can cook somethin', if ya want."

"No." You walk up to him and place your hands over his shoulders, making stern eye contact. "You're forbidden to do anything for today."

"Why?" There's a big grin on his face – bigger than usual. 

"Cuz I said so."

Saying that, you let him go, double-check to make sure you've got everything you need with you, and head off toward the exit, gesturing for him to follow.

"There's no news on… those guys, is there?" he asks, when you step out of your hotel room.

Sans locks the door, then you check it once, and he checks it twice, current topic bringing forth worries that had buried themselves since you took that shower together.

"No," you reply, frowning. "I looked through all my messages, but it was just family, friends, and others dropping in to see how we were doing."

Your own response gives rise to the need of checking out your phone again – as if you've received a new notification, but really there's just something you've left unfinished, and it's beginning to bother you the most now.

"Um… One sec."

You stop right as you're making it out of the hallway, moving aside to prevent blocking the path for others.

Despite what you said to him, there's still one text you haven't opened, and the flashy app still reminds you of it by keeping a circle by its top-right corner, tempting you to open it for the sake of clearing that circle off – and totally not having some peace of mind over what Brenda wrote.

"I got a message from Auntie Brenda, too, but…" You trail off, frown growing when you give more thought to the situation. "Should I open it? I already read the preview, and it goes something like this…"

👩: Good morning, dear.

I'm worried.

Do you have time to…

You've shown him the message, and by the time he's done reading, you see his grin has toned down, and that the lights in his eye sockets have softened on par with that change in expression.

"Well, uh…" He takes a hand to the back of his skull and huffs. "Maybe you should, but I don't wanna make this decision for ya." His hand falls on yours, and he lifts it up, then tugs it, making you look at him. "But if you're just askin' what I would do…" He closes his eye sockets and hums, gripping your hand tighter when he opens them. "I wouldn't – not right now, when I'm on an empty stomach, and when I know I'm gonna eat soon. Whether it'll be a good thing or not wouldn't matter, cuz then I'd be too busy thinkin' about what Brenda wrote to care about eating. Probably." He lets out a laugh. "So, what I'm sayin' is… Eat first, rest a lil' more, and then you can check what it says. When you're feelin' more well-rested, and less like the world's weighing down on you."

"Babe," you call out, smiling. "Look at me for a second."

He does as you ask, stepping on his tiptoes when you gesture for him to do that next.

When he's at your reach, you grab his cheekbones and bring him against you, newfound strength allowing you to lift him.

A kiss follows – first chaste, then anything but. Of course, you glance around every single damn, nook, cranny, and corner before you do that, yet the hallway is as empty as it's quiet. He responds with a shorter kiss, though with a stronger hug, hands falling on your rear as you lift him higher – almost carrying him, at this point.

"What gives?" he asks when you end the kiss – trying to sound casual, in spite of the results being him coming off like a gumshoe catching someone tampering with a crime scene.

"...I can't kiss you?" you ask back, returning to '👉👈' speech.

And that makes him look pissed.

So you carry on, saying, "I wuv you."

He feigns pain by clutching his ribcage, then by closing his eye sockets again and going as far as to shed a heavy drop of sweat.

"Critical damage," he says, clenching his jaw.

"In a good way?"

"No."

You smile without a single ounce of shame, fueled by (literal) hunger and a general need to let him know he'll be dealing with this kind of thing sometimes, if he really plans to date you.

"Wuv you, too, puddin'," he adds, sighing afterward. "But seriously. What gives?"

"What do you mean?" you ask, raising an eyebrow. "I just… I wanted to kiss you."

"For no particular reason?"

"...Yes?"

And just as you think there's something you need to be worrying about and something you would need to fix soon, he grabs his rib cage once more – much harder now, and far more intense in every other manner.

"Ah, damn," he mutters, grinning from ear canal to ear canal. "Critical damage… Again."

"...In a good way?"

"Hell yeah."

You allow him a moment to pretend like he's recovering, smiling when you see him wink at you once he's finally done with that.

"I liked it."

And with that, you let out the typical breath you hadn't known you were holding, because – truth be told – you feared you'd screwed up.

"You did?"

He kisses your cheek, giving you the answer you need to further strengthen your relief.

"Now let's go get somethin' to eat. My treat."

"Can I pay for dessert?"

His face glows with mirth.

"I'd say I already got you with me, but I don't wanna be corny."

"Hmm, well… You can always save me for later, osito."

You smile and return a kiss on the cheek, exaggerating it with a whispered 'muah'.

"But in all seriousness, let's go get some ice cream. Or… Maybe a milkshake, or just anything sweet? I wanna treat you to something, too."

He leads you out of the hotel, and that's when reality hits hard.

As barricade tape covers the main entrance, preventing any new, potential customer from entering all willy-nilly, it's apparent you can't leave the hotel beyond the rooms and the entertainment facilities – not today, and not tomorrow, at least; it's a hellish paradise, if you will.

But Sans doesn't let go, and instead tugs you along to the building next to the basketball court, where you spot a food court and a shopping mall. Before he can lead you off there, however, you pull away and step aside. He stops when you do and follows you off to the bench you choose to sit on, mind a mess as it collides with your new reality. As much as you want to forget about what happened, it's an impossible feat. You're trapped here until Undyne, Alphys, and everyone else dealing with research over your attackers can give you a green light. Otherwise, you're trapped here with Sans as your bodyguard, and that's… something you'd rather your partner not be responsible for.

You want someone you can cuddle with without a worry – and not someone you cuddle with just because you fear he'll be hurt or gone the next day.

And when reminded that the situation is out of your control, you're not sure whether to feel guilty about that or not.

Perhaps both, or…

A  mixture of the two, maybe?

Regardless, you keep following along, loudly growling stomach thoroughly rearranging your priorities.

Chapter Text

"If this's your way of proving a point," he says, winking, "it's very effective."

He follows along as you hurry out of the pool and toward... nowhere, exactly.

You've simply decided to walk away to shake the embarrassment off.

"We're both kinda sucky at this, huh? I can see why Jerry said–"

He shuts himself right up and stops in his tracks just as you do; the embodiment of the curse 'shit' shows all over his face.

"Jerry's been texting you, hasn't he?" you state, smiling like you're willing to accept such a weird timeline: you divorced Jerry, you both fell for the same guy, and now, you're dating the guy while he's texting him like they're old friends.

How do you know that?

Well, you're not usually one to poke into people's personal stuff, but...

For starters, Sans doesn't really attempt to cover his phone from your line of sight whenever he's using it next to you.

And with Jerry's messages being simply one emoji away from overflooded, it's always been easy for him to stand out.

Add to that how... challenging it is for you not to blatantly stare at Sans's phone screen when it's that close, and, well...

You've seen things you're not sure you should've seen – or even wanted to, to begin with.

"I've been trying to, uh, set some boundaries... Cuz, ya know, he's your, uh, ex, and..." He's turning red, and he's had to rest his back against a wall to avoid what you assume is falling on his knees from their shakiness. "And well, it's just plain fucking weird, isn't it? Just– Just take a load of this."

Okay so... 👀👀👀

😈😈Weak spots😈😈

Wanna learn about them? 😃😉😋

Barely a few texts in, and you can already confirm that it's indeed as 'plain fucking weird' as Sans says.

But you carry on.

Ok. 😉

So...

You know how there's this thing called the honeymoon phase?

One detail you can comment first on is... the surprising lack of emojis in some of his messages, leading you to believe this is actually more 'serious' than 'weird'.

Well, we went through our highs and lows rather... often.

We had more than one honeymoon phase, so to speak.

But... It did actually last a year, so...

I was confident we could do better.

In reality, it just didn't work out.

We had different preferences.

Different hopes and dreams.

Different wants and needs.

The lack lasts until that message.

...But 👀😲☝️

That's just *me*. 😉

You look like you, uh... get along better with them? ❤️😋🤭☺️

And I know this is going to sound REALLY bad, but... 😬

Remember when you picked them up at the beach that one time I got too drunk? 🥴

😔😔😔

I... used to do that a lot whenever I knew we needed to talk about something serious.

I got myself drunk, and I tried to get THEM drunk in the process, too.

To, like, smoothen those bumps in the road up a bit, you know?

Coming along like giant waves on a stormy day, his on and off spam of emojis makes his tone easily readable.

Sans takes his phone back when you're done studying those last few messages, and it isn't until you register that you've lost track of the time and where you are that you realize you've gotten a little too into what you were reading.

The sun's still bright, you can still catch the scent of sunscreen on your skin, and the smell of chlorine water is still present.

"Just so you don't feel, uh..." He takes a long pause. "I'm not sure what you're feeling exactly, but just so reading all those texts doesn't make it worse, it all sums up pretty much into him confessing all the things he felt guilty about, how he thought I was gonna do better, and how I can..." He harrumphs, bright red amplifying across his cheekbones. "How I can make it 'even better' by... finding your weak spots and..."

His tone sounds not only pained, but he seems to be in physical pain, likewise – as if what he's trying to say will soon result in him straining his voice, pulling a muscle or two, or collapsing altogether.

"And, well, using those weak spots to..."

It only gets worse the more he talks.

So, you place a hand over his shoulder and cut him off.

Because – however much he tries to seem cool about it, by keeping a smile on his face and fruitlessly attempting to hide the fact he's sweating from embarrassment rather than the sun – really, you don't want him to feel bad about something he only responded to with 'uh... maybe???'

"If you're gonna die telling me this, it's okay. I know Jerry can be a bit... much, sometimes."

"I'm fine, babe."

But he's not.

Blessed be the day when you take a workshop on how monsters work.

Because that's also something you feel will help with this situation: you knowing how to aid a seemingly emotionally constipated skeleton man into expressing how he feels without turning redder than the cherry snow cones they're selling close by.

"Your face is all red."

"That's just from the sun."

You grab his hand and stop him from stepping foot back into the hotel.

"You know better than to think I'll believe that."

Then, you let go and gesture to the folding chairs, where you've both left your belongings: your phone, his towel, an open bottle of sunscreen, and two bottles of water.

"You're okay. I'm okay. I don't care that you mentioned Jerry, and I don't care that you text him, either." You raise an eyebrow and cross your arms. "...If what I saw can even be considered texting? You just replied to him once, and he sort of just... exploded?"

"That's the thing," he says, huffing. "He's not usually like that. I know he's fine based on the number of, uh... stickers and emojis he sends me with his texts, and by how long it takes him to type something."

You raise both eyebrows and wiggle them.

"You sure know a lot about him, huh?"

"Try that one with me, I dare ya."

"What?" You do the '👉👈' thing IRL, coupled with some big and bright eyes for good measure. "I'm just saying you and Jerry seem like great friends? What's wrong with–"

Whatever he does to cut you off, it nearly makes you land face-first in the pool.

'Nearly', as in, he's keeping you from falling into the water after just pushing you toward it, with one hand around your waist and the other holding the stairs' handrails.

"You were sayin'?"

He's grinning wide, like he's won an unannounced battle between you.

And with you being a sore loser, you poke your tongue out, then take a deep breath.

"SANS AND JERRY, KISSING IN A TREE! K-I-S-S-I-N-"

Splash!

With you holding on tight, his attempt at letting you fall in the water results in the both of you ending up wet.

"Seriously, what the hell?" he calls out, when you've both sputtered enough water to fill another swimming pool.

"You started it. I was only–"

Your eyes grow wider than the amount of red spread on his cheekbones as you remember one important thing.

"Your phone!"

You grab onto him and press your face against his chest, closing your eyes and muttering apologies.

"It's waterproof."

He grins, though his general expression seems strained.

"But not, uh, (Y/N)-proof, I think. Cuz I heard a real bad 'crack' noise when you smashed against it."

He heaves out a breath.

"You squished me and my phone up in the process, but I kinda got myself into that one," Sans states, laughing. "Shouldn't've threatened ya like that, to begin with."

And, as if it's the most ordinary thing, he signals at the broken phone, now sinking.

"Problem is, it was meant to send off a distress signal if it ever got broken, cuz that meant we were in trouble."

Silence.

Then, your brain processing those words and your mouth falling open.

"How can you say that, like it's no big deal? You're too calm for your own–"

"Kiddin'."

He whips out another phone, nearly as identical as the first one.

"That one's a double, but I had to get back at ya somehow for all the 'uwu' shit you've been pulling out recently."

Again, pure silence.

Then, you attempting an innocent expression.

"Does thiws mean I've bewn a bwad pawtnew?" you ask, doing the hand thing again. "I'm sowwy."

Sans sighs and steps out of the pool.

"Gonna go get a net to fish that phone outta the water."

Chapter Text

          And Sans's head hurts like it's been kicked around like a sturdy football.

          But that doesn't keep him from drinking just one more beer, then another two for good measure.

          "Stop giving him more," he hears the human next to him shout, though he doesn't exactly do anything about it. "He's had enough."

          Who's he with?

          He doesn't remember.

          What little memory he can gather is the fact that the person protesting over his alcohol consumption is… important.

          That's the only thing he can make out.

          Important, but… how?

          "Hey," he calls out, when that person tries to swipe his newest serving of beer from his hands. "Stop it."

          "No, you," they reply, and then they attempt to swipe the drink away again, so he does the next best thing.

          And that's teleporting far from their side.

          But it doesn't work out as well as he hoped.

          Rather than teleporting backward, Sans slams right against the same person he'd tried to run from, knocking them clean out of the bar stool and sending them straight to the ground.

          "What the hell, dude?" they exclaim, pushing him off. "Why'd you do that for?!"

          Choosing to thoroughly ignore their complaints, he tries to teleport once more.

          And – this time – he does so allllllllll the way to the end of the bar, the back of his skull hitting the wall with a loud thud.

          "You're going to hurt yourself!" his… human friend calls out.

          At least, teleporting seems to be clearing up his memory.

          Or, perhaps, it's the affectionate desperation in that same friend's voice.

          Because he doubts a stranger would show that much concern toward a drunken man.

          Sans hears whispering, then an angered huff from his friend. He looks in said direction and sees they're glaring at the bartender – a bunny he also has a vague familiarity of –  looking like they're ready to start a bar fight. Their body's suspended over the counter, and they're grabbing the monster's collar like they want to either punch them in the face or pull them out of the bar – likely both; and if not more than that.

          "He doesn't need to 'learn a lesson'," they state, teeth grit. "And I don't care if he's 'asking for it'. You're going to get him intoxicated!"

          And the moment the monster shrugs, Sans sees bright red in the human's eyes, then a punch heading at the former's face.

          So, again, he tries doing the next best thing: teleporting toward the human to halt the beginning of a fight, but…

          He winds up knocking them aside once more.

          "Are you serious?" they exclaim, frowning as soon as they recover from their shock and stand up from the already messy floor, a few broken knick-knacks and beer glasses strewn about. "Please, Sans, quit doing tha–"

          What's the next place he mistakenly teleports to?

          The wine rack behind the counter, sending a few bottles to the floor, scattering glass and spilling liquid everywhere.

          In a flurry of confusion and a general need to fix all of his previous mistakes, Sans makes a series of bad teleporting choices all around.

          First, he stumbles toward a couple sharing a banana split, resulting in a bar fight that ends with his opponent surrendering for the sake of his human friend begging for mercy.

          Next, he crashes against a few empty barrels Grillby had ordered the new bartender to refill – a task he's thankful hasn't been completed yet.

          Then, he pushes his human friend again, though this time by slamming them against the wall and making them groan in pain.

          And, finally, he sends himself flying backward until hitting the counter when they tell him to 'quit it and back off'.

          "You need to stop using your magic," they warn, still on the floor. "It's–"

          What's the best way to sober up when the entire world feels like it's been thrown in an industrial blender?

          Seeing the freshly made scrapes on his human friend redden.

          "That's my fault, isn't it?" he asks, pointing with his irises at their bleeding knees.

          "It sure is," they reply, crossing their arms and looking away. "I told you not to overdo it, but you didn't listen to me. And now, look what's happened!"

          While everything's blurry, it's still clear as day how much destruction he's caused – more to his… partner than to everything or anyone else.

          And what an awful time to remember who his human friend is, and what they mean to him, exactly.

          "I hope Grillby never ever lets you step foot back into his bar again!"

          "Never ever?" Sans taunts, grinning. "You sound like a kid."

          What's another good way to sober up?

          Having his partner shout 'What?!', then grab his collar like they'd done with the bartender.

          "Are you seriously going to call me a kid, when you're the one making messes and giving me a hard time?" Letting go, they sit back on the stool, sigh, and stretch out, hissing at the same moment their knees bleed some more. "I see you all quiet and lonely on the last day of our hotel stay, sitting on a bench and staring at the floor. I ask what's wrong, but you refuse to answer honestly and ask me out on a date instead, saying you're looking forward to us going out somewhere nice before I move off to your place. I get all happy and hopeful, thinking it'll be a decent change of pace from how long we were stuck at that hotel. But– But then, you… Then, you do this!"

          What's a surefire way to guarantee there's not a single drop of liquor left in his system?

          Seeing his partner's – if he can even call them that anymore – eyes water.

          "You've spilt wine, broken barrels, crashed into random people, slammed into walls, and pushed me around, and… And all for what? What's wrong, and why won't you tell me about it? Does this mean you don't trust me, or do you just hate me and want to cause me trouble?"

          An almost eternal moment of silence passes.

          Or, at least, it sincerely feels like such.

          Until his… partner(?) sighs.

          "I'm taking you home, and we'll call this a night."

          They break eye contact to glare at the bunny bartender – who's returned from serving a few customers and tending to the messes he's provoked – finally back to only standing behind the counter, likely sticking around for more dilemmas to be made.

          "...You drugged him, didn't you?" his part– the human asks, scowling. 

          And then, they sit up straighter, waiting for a response.

          "Got any evidence to prove that outrageous claim?" the bunny retorts, snickering.

          Their scowl deepens, fists clenching tight and deep wrinkles showing on their forehead.

          They take one of the empty beer glasses – staring down at it before looking back at the bunny.

          "I'll find the evidence and rub it right in your face."

          As they stand up, grab his hand, and start walking off, the bunny laughs.

          And that feels like a cue for Sans to help the human leave the bar as soon as possible.

          "Don't let the door hit you on the way out, Sansy," the bartender says, giggling. "...And don't forget to check your mailbox tomorrow. I'm sure you'll really like what's waiting for you there."

          Knowing he's the root of the trouble, Sans lets go of his… friend's(?) hand and tries teleporting out of the bar, though what little percentage of alcohol remains in his system causes him to miscalculate how far he needs to move.

          So…

          Where does he teleport to?

          Right against his partner – or, more than most likely, ex partner and future acquaintance or even stranger – desperately stomping off toward the exit.

          A pair of painkillers, some snacks, and a tall glass of water later, Sans makes it home around an hour and thirty minutes after they do, sixty needed to recover and attempt to set his thoughts straight, and thirty more required to teleport properly and enter his home.

          But when he sees the living room's lights are still on, and that Undyne and Alphys's car isn't in the parking space any longer, he decides to wait outside for a while, pocketing his keys as he presses his ear canal closer to the door.

          "...I have to talk to him," his… ex partner states, and the sound of the refrigerator opening follows. "And don't you worry about anything, dear. I'll go easier on him." 

          "I doubt you will," Frisk replies, and he can imagine them pouting just by the dumpy tone of their voice. "But… I'll trust you."

          Their parent laughs, then there's the sound of glasses being set over the counter and liquid being poured into both.

          Frisk's voice grows louder as they walk toward the door, checking to see if it's been locked – a few seconds before they're even told to.

          "How did it happen, ren?" Frisk asks, a surge of excitement in their voice. "How did it get to him being all drunk and dizzy and stuff? Tell me, tell me!"

          "Well…" their parent replies, grin heard through that single word. "I thought he looked a little down when we were getting ready to leave the hotel, so I walked over and asked if he was fine – cuz he was sitting on a bench all gloomy and alone during our usual brunch hour, y'know? But then he asked me out to dodge the question, and that's where it all started." Their tone falls to a more serious one now. "I… I was worried, and of course, I'm mad at both him and the bartender, but…" They chuckle. "You just won't believe what happened!"

          And with that, (Y/N) goes into full detail to describe everything he did wrong today – from mild destruction of property to pushing people to the ground multiple times, them being the victim with the most incidents.

          "Drunk Sans is like… Regular Sans, but with super bad lag when he teleports anywhere – even to that corner over there," they comment, chuckling. "So, I'd say... Drunk Sans is basically like… Laggy Sans?"

          "...Laggy Sans!" Frisk exclaims, giggling.

          And both them and Frisk laugh, then continue talking about the subject, until they both walk off, voices growing fainter.

          Now left with the night's silence and the opportunity to enter his home without having to go through an argument right after fully sobering up, Sans tries teleporting off to his room.

          Yet, as he feared, it doesn't end well.

          Because – somehow – he ends up at a sink.

          Better said: he's on the bathroom sink, water spurting out of the faucet he's broken during the trip.

          "I don't want to talk to him tonight, so leave it at his door, okay?" he hears his ex-partner say, amusement in their tone. "He… texted me he'll be home soon, and he can actually write without making it look like a keyboard smash, so… That should mean he's doing better now, and I did ask Grillby to kinda follow him on the way home, too – just to be safe."

          "Are you gonna break up with him?"

          "...No, I think."

          "Why?"

          And that 'why' is followed by a brief round of silence, interrupted by a door opening. 

          "This isn't like him, and I'm sure it has to do with a… friend of his slipping something funky into the first drink he took. He got drunk way too suddenly, and it looked like he even forgot who I was." There's a pause, then the sound of them yawning. "Jerry, or, um… Your father, he… He kept part of himself when he got drunk. But Sans, he… I firmly believe he isn't like this – troubling others the way he did, refusing to listen to what I was saying… I knew something was off the second he drank that first beer, but by the time I confirmed what truly happened, it was too late."

          "Want me to call Undyne and Alphys over while he gets better? I'll tell them what happened!"

          "That would be for the best."

          There's loud and quick footsteps, then a door closing and Frisk's voice sounding like they've either ran a full marathon or carried something heavy up some stairs.

          "And we can get Alphys to see if he drank anything funky. She can even cure him and everything!"

          His partner laughs – vividly so.

Chapter Text

          By the time Sans closes the sink's shutoff valve and fixes what he's broken, there's a large puddle beneath him.

          And it trails all the way to the door, seeping underneath it.

          The soft splish-splash of bare footsteps approaches, then the door opens, revealing his partner – wide-eyed and mouth open.

          It's a primarily wordless conversation as he meets their eyes, most of what he wants to say communicated by an apologetic look on his irises and him showing them his phone, fully unlocked for them to use freely. Their expression quickly changes to a teary gaze and a shaky smile, and they step in to grab the phone, though they hug him first. It's a desperate embrace, the strength they apply into it letting their relief known. When they let go, he holds their face and kisses their cheek. A salty taste overcomes him, and even further when they decide to hug him tight again and let more tears flow through.

          As that moment ends, he helps them get back to their feet, while they return his phone, not bothering to check what he'd wanted them to.

          Plenty of things could be cleared up if they read what he wanted to show them, yet…

          Sans decides not to push.

          He could very well show them that when they're less weary, and when he's had his fair share of rest and recovery, too.

          (Y/N) gestures for him to follow them, so he does, though he first takes off his shoes and socks, setting these aside by the only dry spot left in the bathroom.

          He'll need to excuse himself to mop the floor soon, but he believes following them is more important now.

          The path where they want to take him to involves going downstairs, en route to the kitchen, the lights still on. They hold his hand when he shows trouble matching their steps, and they smile and giggle when he's forced to grab on tighter and closer to their arm to keep himself from falling. It's an odd kind of feeling: depending on others as heavily he's been doing so far. And he's uncertain whether that's a positive thing or not, although by the look on his partner's face – their tears gone and their smile now loose – he assumes they've eased out, at least. Whenever he slows down a little, they do, too. And whenever he stumbles, they stop, grabbing onto the railings until he's able to recover. Time feels like it's stopped, and Sans wonders how much longer until he reaches the kitchen.

          It takes a few more steps, along with another pause from his partner, to keep up with his pace.

          The first thing Sans spots as he walks into the lit kitchen is – to his surprise – Grillby cutting a few ingredients on a wooden board, with Frisk sleeping soundly (and loudly) on the floor nearby, an inflatable mattress set up for them. There's a brightly coloured 'Get Well Soon' card in their hand, plus a polka-dotted, poorly wrapped gift next to them, noticeably knocked aside when they dozed off. Their loud snoring has involuntarily contributed to the surprise factor, as – when he looks around some more – he catches Undyne and Alphys sitting by the dining table, the former mumbling all sorts of complaints, protests, and threats at her phone, and the latter typing away furiously on her laptop, a deep glare in her gaze as she mumbles something about 'monsterhood' and 'not having each other's backs'. Multiple packs and bottles of medicine wait at the very center of the table, and there's a thick and tall pile of folders and papers waiting for their attention. Sans looks back to the kitchen, where he sees Papyrus pop up from behind the refrigerator door, and that's another thing that leaves him wondering. This time, it's regarding how long it was left open, and how he didn't notice him there right from the beginning. He makes eye contact just then, and his brother eagerly waves at him in response, a large and varied batch of ingredients held up firm in his other hand.

          Frisk's snores grow quieter as they turn to the other side and restlessly kick and tug at the bedsheets one way and the other, the Get Well Soon card still in their hand. Their parent walks over to the mattress and tucks them in better, a softer, calmer expression reaching their eyes, and their smile growing looser, in the process. With Frisk's heavy snores toned down plenty, Sans can hear all the sounds he'd observed previously, plus a few new ones, too: Grillby sautéing the ingredients he'd finished cutting, Papyrus using a steel whisk against a metal bowl, Undyne fuming at what Sans assumes is the one responsible for drugging him, and Alphys typing even more furiously when the one on call retorts with a smug attitude. It's like a harmony, in its own strange manner. Throw into the medley his partner's laughter when Papyrus accidentally flicks some whisked batter at Grillby's hair, and he feels at home.

          At home, though… not exactly safe.

          It's then that he shudders wildly, and he suddenly gains the need to check the door to see if it's still locked.

          Undyne stands up, making him assume she's feeling the same way as he does: plain uneasy; waiting for the worst.

          She walks to where he is, then places a hand on his shoulder, obliging him to stare up at her.

          And as they both exchange a wary look, there's a soft thumping on the door.

          Besides Undyne herself, Grillby is the first to act. He passes the frying pan to (Y/N), instructing them and Papyrus to carry on with the work. Alphys, on the other hand, stays in her seat, closes the laptop, and drags out a remote from her shirt's pocket. She advises  everyone to keep calm, then presses a button. Faster than blinking, all the windows are shut with steel covers, cutting off the once pleasant view of the night sky and replacing it with grey walls. It's safe to assume the same applies to the door, as the thumping ceases. There's the shrill sound of warning alarms and a robotic voice commanding to stay clear from the entrance within the next few seconds, until the countdown ends and the door closes with a deep and decisive 'THUNK'. Frisk wakes up, immediately asking what's wrong and where they are, a job likely meant for Sans to deal with, him the only one left unoccupied.

          As Undyne and Grillby stand guard by the door, Sans crouches beside Frisk and tells them to lie back down, then explains to them what's going on, and that they need to keep quiet.