Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

sans is Dead.

Like incredibly-horribly-absolutely-completely-dead. 

Well, not yet. But he will be. It's almost guaranteed. 

His dad's gonna find out what he did and he's gonna be dead. He isn't even gonna have to kill him. He's just gonna want to kill him so hard that the intention alone will be enough. Or by the same principle sans is gonna want to be dead so much in that moment that his intention to die will dust him. His dad is gonna find out and at that exact moment sans is going to collapse into dust.

"Fuck-" He hissed for the dozenth time.

He lifted his shirt further, straining in the mirror for a good view. Then he gave up and pulled the black fabric over his head, letting it drop to the floor. He was standing in the dark bathroom in front of the mirror with his soul summoned so he could closely inspect it. Deep within the luminous cyan he could see a small but noticeable and unmistakable white blemish.

What a terrible word for it. Like the scrap of magic bound to his soul was a pimple that needed to be-

He cut himself off, not wanting to form that unfortunate mental image.

The mark was little more than a smudge. Nothing solid or tangible had formed yet. But soon it would grow, and change, and develop- before finally beginning to calcify. Before it'd– become a little skeleton.

He was pregnant. 

When the words ran through his head it started spinning. He stepped back and let his soul return to his ribcage where it belonged. 

Of fucking course he was.

His soul had been swollen and tender. The magic around his ribs made them sensitive, and even his softest shirts were unbearably rough against the bone. And he was standing in the bathroom at two in the morning having been woken up by middle-of-the-night nausea for not the first time this week. 

As he said. Dead.

‘Fuck, fuck, fuckity-FUCK.’

He was only 15. He'd thought he'd been careful! He didn't think this could happen. He was- he's so young. Skeletons live hundreds of years, and sans is a boss monster! Freaking 15? A baby? What the hell is he going to do?

He stared himself down in the mirror. Dark bags were weighing down his eyes, and his hands shook against the porcelain sink. He looked like a freaking mess.

What is he going to tell his dad? He couldn't even believe this. How soon was he gonna have to explain where the freaking BABY came from? Actually, his dad was probably the only monster in the Underground who actually knows how the process works for skeletons. sans is have to ask him where the freaking baby comes from. 

The thought of looking at his dad and saying the words had him leaning back over the sink and spitting up another mouthful of blue-tinged magic. 'Fucking hell.' 

He coughed shakily and flipped on the faucet, ran his toothbrush under the water and scrubbed the sour taste of bile from his teeth. 

He tried to calm his racing thoughts while his breath rattled between his ribs. Waves of fear wracked his small frame as he backed away from the mirror. His pupils were completely blacked out, locked on the dim glow of his soul behind his ribs. When he felt his back hit the wall he let his knees give out, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor.

He sat curled on the ground, hugging his knees for hours. The thought 'what the hell am I gonna do?' ran through his head for the rest of the night.

Eventually he had to get up off the floor. He heard his dad stirring in his room and finally unfurred from his place against the wall. his stiff bones popped as he stood up. He picked up his discarded sleep-shirt and quickly pulled it back over head, smoothing and adjusting it to look as natural as possible. He's so boned. There's no way he was going to be able to keep this to himself, everyone was going to find out. They'd take one look at him and just know. They probably already did! if he took a single step out of the house he'd ruin his life and his dads reputation forever. 

He let his shaking hand rest over his sternum, feeling the gentle ‘thump- thump’ of his magic pulsing beneath it. He closed his eyes, leaned against the doorframe and tried to just breath for a moment. Finally, not feeling ready at all, he turned the handle, opened the door, braced himself, and stepped out. 

Standing at the end of the hallway was his dad. He blearily rubbed the sleep from his sockets as he paused and watched sans step into the hall.

“What are you doing awake so early?” He asked incredulously. Even his sleepy mumble seemed loud; breaking the silence of the long night. 

“uhh- i don't know. i just randomly woke up." sans hadn't slept. The excuse sounded weak even as he said it, and from the look on his dad's face he thought so too. 

“What are you doing in the bathroom with the lights off?" He cut himself off- "Oh, never mind. Forget it. Go get dressed, since you're up we can go to Grillins’ for breakfast before school.” His father ran his hand down his face, briefly tracing the crack under his eye as he stepped passed sans into the bathroom. He flipped the light switch, but nothing happened. He flipped it down and back up, a few times, before deciding that it simply wasn't going to work.  

Gaster cursed in the dark. “Or we can have cereal, and I'll head straight to the lab.” The Royal Scientist left to retrieve his phone from his bedroom. Meanwhile, sans crossed the living room and peered out the windows at the darkened street. The only light was warm orange radiating from pits of magma. Clearly, they'd lost power again. But they had made it a whole three weeks since the last outage! That's progress!

When his dad came into the living room, he was holding his clunky brick of a cell phone to his cranium while someone on the other side of the line frantically briefed him. sans watched a dozen different emotions run across his face before he settled on ‘this might as well happen.’

sans had only ever seen two things garner that particular look of resigned exasperation from the his father. The first being the Core, his half doomed- stapled together amalgamation of science, magic, engineering, and complete-utter bullshit that was supposed to provide the Underground with power. Sometimes it even did, until it inevitably crapped out again. Call it a work in progress.

The other thing was sans himself. Like the time he and his friends had snuck into the King's house and wrapped everything inside his kitchen in Gyftmas paper. Including his entire oven, his broom and dirtpan, every item in fridge and the fridge itself. They even wrapped each individual egg in the basket and then wrapped the basket. Instead of just telling his father, Asgore had asked the both of them over the next day for lunch. Gaster had recognized his son's handiwork as soon as they stepped into the kitchen, since sans had done the very same thing to several rooms in his dad's lab over the years. 

“Yes- yes, I can be there within the next hour. Have you contacted Dr. Glandis Yet?”

He followed his dad into the kitchen and pulled two bowls out of the cupboard. Meanwhile Gaster set about heating up the kettle, and spooning ground coffee into the French press. Apparently the fancy electric Coffee maker Gaster's coworker had salvaged from the dump for him wouldn't work today. 

“Want to get dressed while coffee is brewing? We’ll have to leave here soon. Of course it's the one day you actually wake up early enough, we could have enjoyed our morning.” sans chuckled weakly while he set the box of cereal and a jug of milk on the table. Then he slunked out of the kitchen, around the corner and into the hallway. He completely missed the concerned look on his dad's face watching him leave.

In his room tried to put together an outfit for the day. He tugged on the same pants he'd worn the day before. Torn faded jeans that had been handed down twice before being given to him, and repaired more times then he could count. He took a clean pair of socks from their drawer, and off the back of his desk chair his favorite sweater.

It was hand knitted, black with a single white stripe cutting through the center of it. It was one of the very few brand new pieces of clothing he'd ever owned. Living with so few resources, everything was either recycled, salvaged or handed down.

He sat on the edge of his bed and ran his boney hand over the soft woolen fabric. His eye sockets watered as he looked down at it. horizontal stripes across your clothes designates you as a child. A signal to the monsters around you that you're still young, and still learning to manage your magic. Still finding out who you are. How would he look walking down the street hiding a baby bump under a striped sweater? How would he make his dad look? 

The Royal Scientist, one of King Asgore's personal advisors. What would people say about him while he's toting around his knocked-up harlot teenage son?

sans had always been a trouble kid. He always had to toe the line. Push buttons and boundaries, see what he could get away with. eventually that turned into how much trouble could he get into. And right now he hated himself for it. He had gone too far, he'd screwed up for real this time. In one fell swoop he'd ruined his own life and his father's. He couldn't even begin to comprehend the fallout that was coming. 

But even still, when he raised his hand to his chest and felt the magic thrumming underneath, against all odds it started to sooth his soul. Some fucked up parental instincts must have already taken over, because he already felt attached to the little whisp of magic.

He felt no attachment to the son of bitch that put it there, however. His feelings towards him were currently swinging wildly between contempt, and the strong desire to roll his fuckin' head across the floor like a bowling ball. None of this had been his idea, yet here he was. Burdened with the consequences. 

He felt a twinge of guilt at referring to his.. condition, as a burden. Like the almost-child was a problem that needed to be solved. 

It definitely created problems. A ton of them, especially if it turns out anything like sans. Everyone always tells him how much like his father he is, so his odds aren't great. But he just couldn't help the touch of softness. The thing had literally wormed it's way into his heart. 

His musing was disturbed by two sharp raps on his door. 

“I hope you didn't fall back asleep in there!” The doorknob turned and his dad cracked the door open to check on him. sans pulled on his sweater, using it, and a dramatized yawn to hide the tears gathering in his eyes. “Almost ready? We need to head out soon and I don't want you going to school without breakfast.” 

“right, yeah. im coming.” 

He followed him back out to the kitchen and sat at the table, while dad went to the kitchen counter to pour them both a cup of coffee. His own black, and sans’ with a splash of milk and two sugars. sans poured them both a bowl of cereal. 

When his coffee was set in front of him, he felt his mind wander while he stared into the cup. Is he even allowed to drink coffee anymore? He raised his spoon to his mouth and took a bite, barely noticing the sweet taste. And how would another little Skeleton change the little routine they'd built? He tried to imagine a high chair at the end of the dinner table.

Could he see himself actually holding a baby?

He shivered and took another bite of cereal. 

“Are you feeling ok?”

sans’ heart dropped into the pit carved in his stomach. Oh my god he's gonna find out. He had made it ten minutes.

“You look pale,” His dad reached over the table and raised a hand to his forehead, feeling the bone. Which had never made any sense to sans, since skeletons don't get fevers. You need a body to have a body temperature after all. But his dad had done it for as long as he could remember. 

"im fine-” He mumbled, turning away from his father's touch. 

Gaster tutted. “Are you sure? You look... off. Worse than you usually do when you stay up all night.”

Busted. 

“im ok, really! im just tired.” He tried to wave off his dads concern, but he was having none of it.

“You haven't touched your coffee.” Dad pointed at the full cup sitting in front of him. And if that wasn't a dead giveaway-

“uh, my stomach kinda hurts.” sans excused weakly.

“Hmm.” Gaster gave him a speculative look. “Well, if it's stopping you from caffeinating it MUST be serious. Do you think you want to stay home from school today?” He sipped his coffee as he asked, watching his face closely.

Wow, he must look like shit . He had already been in two parent teacher conferences over skipping classes this semester.

“Really?” His dad had to go deal with the Core, and heaven only knows how long that would take. So he would have the house to himself for at least a few hours. He wouldn't have to show his face in public and risk being discovered! Besides, he wasn't ready to face... any of it, really.

“I'll call the school, and see if I can pick up your assignments on the way back. But please stay in the house and rest. Do not use this as a free pass to go and screw around with your friends.” 

sans nodded, half-mindedly stirring his breakfast. Those were the last people he wanted to see right now. “i don't really wanna go anywhere anyways..” He mumbled into his bowl. 

“Ok.. How about you come by the lab later, if you start feeling better? I'd bet Dr. Mossley would help you work on your coding some.” Gaster prompted, scraping the last bite of his breakfast onto his spoon.

He forced himself to meet his father's eyes and smile weakly. “Sure, we'll see.” 

Gaster returned his weak grin, with no more fervor. Then he turned his wrist over to check his watch. “I need to head out. Please- please be good while I'm at work.” 

“Ye be of little faith.” sans chuckled, waving dismissively. Gaster leveled him a look while he stood. He rinsed his bowl out and left it in the sink, and when he passed sans on his way to the door he ducked his head down and tapped his jawbone against sans’ cranium with a quiet 'tuk.'  

With his lab coat over his arm, and briefcase in hand, he slipped sans 20g for lunch, sent his son one more glance and stepped out the door. “Be good. Feel better. I'll see you tonight!" He said to the closing door.

And he was gone.

sans spent the rest of his day laying in bed, staring at the wall, drifting in and out of sleep, and occasionally crying into his pillow. 

What the ever-loving- fuck is he going to do now?

Chapter Text

‘Thwonk-

Thwonk-

Thwonk-’

The sound of sans dribbling bounced off the walls of the cave harder than his basketball bounced off the court. He let the ball bounce into his hands and lifted it, lining it up with the basket. Relax his shoulders, square up his feet, slight bend to the knees- shoot -

Swoosh! Clean into the basket. 

“That's HORSE.” Abe counted. He stepped under the basket to catch the ball and bounced it back to sans.

“That's bullshit, is what that is!” Pike retorted, glaring indignantly at them both.

“you could say it's… horseshit.” sans teased the fuming gargoyle.

“How do you always kick ass? Are you cheating?” Pike accused.

“yeah,” sans said. “i've got this epic trick i use, you should try it. it's called ‘technique and practice’.” He punctuated his sentence by lodging the ball right at Pike’s head, who jumped back with a yelp- barely catching it before it pelted him in the face.

“You just suck, Pike.” Said Susie. She was strolling up to the trio through a tunnel that led back towards Waterfall. The basketball court was in a side chamber off of a path towards a bigger park, with swings and stuff.

“I'd like to see you do better,” Pike hissed and flared his stone wings threateningly. Unfortunately for him, her unimpressed look discredited any intimidation attempt.

She cocked her head, bangs falling into her eyes, then signaled for him to pass the ball. When she had it she dribbled once, aimed, shot over sans, Abe, and Pike’s heads- and nailed the basket off of the backboard.

“And that was without warming up,” not to mention she was standing three feet behind sans at nearly half court. Though in fairness to them all, she has a height advantage over everyone present. 

And, I mean, she probably isn't pregnant. Though using that as an excuse would mean actually admitting it. 

At present he was ignoring the fact entirely. Same thing he had been doing since he found out just over a week ago.

“Yeah yeah, good job. Didja bring-?” Abe prompted, walking up behind his brother and slinging his stone arm over his head.

“Yea, yeah it's right here.” The purple monster grumbled, slinging her bag off her shoulder so she could open it. She pulled out a tall brown bottle, and sans felt his stomach drop. 

Fuck. He can't drink.

But if he doesn't, they're going to catch on- oh god. They can’t know.

Susie pulled a long drag off the bottle and passed it to sans. Feeling the panic rise, he couldn’t let himself think about it long enough to hesitate. Didn't let himself flinch at the familiar burn. He did, however, only take about a third of what he normally would. Guilt wrecked him immediately and he nearly dropped the bottle before Pike had taken hold of it.

“Woah, someone's a lightweight.” He heckled him, right before he choked on his own burning mouthful and violently gagged. 

sans had to resist the urge to puke right then.

Abes's younger brother was a stupid jackass, but not really more than the rest of them. It was just extra annoying when he did it since he was so much younger than the three of them, being 14.

“i could drink you stupid any day,” sans taunted.

 ‘ No! bad sans, shut the hell up!’

“Yeah? Let's do it. Come on, bone boy.” Pike took another long swig and tried to pass the bottle back to the Skeleton. Luckily Abe didn't appreciate being skipped, and interrupted before sans made any worse decisions.

“Gimme that-” He growled, batting his brother up the head as he confiscated the stolen booze.

“Don't fuck up the rotation.” Susie chided.

“eventually, my dad is gonna do something about not seeing my face all week.” sans started, “and considering that lamp over there Is actually working, could very well be today.” 

Pike stuck his tongue out at him. Very childishly- sans thought while he returned the gesture. 

“Wow, imagine having a dad that likes you.” Susie said bitterly, and pulled a sip from the bottle. 

“Imagine having a dad.” Abe and Pike said in union. 

“oh you guys shut up-” sans deflected. “you two have every mom in this friend group, you don't get to complain.” 

“Wait, you don't have a mom?” Pike inquired. He got a set of incredulous looks in response.

“no, dude.”

“You don't know about the thing? How do you not know? Everybody knows.”

“sans is a test tube baby.” Susie finally clarified for the younger.

Pike’s stone jaw tried to hit the ground. 

“i prefer the term ‘unprecedented breakthrough in the field of phasmo-biology’.” sans said with a faux-smug air. 

“Yeah,” Susie retorted. “Just like you prefer the term ‘devilishly clever’ over ‘ huge fuckin nerd’, even though they mean the same thing.” She teased. 

“exactly!” he laughed. 

And then she passed the bottle back to him.

He took it with a shaking hand. Shut his eyes tight and choked down another shot. Then passed the bottle back along as fast as he could. The gnawing pit in his stomach grew steadily, seeping into his arms and legs making him sway on his feet. It had to be the guilt, not the alcohol. He knew he wasn't this much of a lightweight.

“I can't even spell half of those words.” 

It took sans’ brain a moment to return to the conversation. He tried to remember what they’d just been talking about.

“you can't spell phasmo-biology?” sans prompted. 

“Or unpresidented.” Obviously. He can’t even pronounce that one.

“Can you even spell field?” Abe asked, and Pike gave him a dirty look. 

“F-E-”

“nope.” sans shook his head in disbelief. “wow.”

“Dude really?”

“Actually what the fuck, Pike.”

“yeah you’re not allowed to skip class with us anymore.”

“Oh come on!” 

“Corner HOT!” 

“Hot heard-”

“Order! Two burge, two sides- one full fry, large onion rings TOGO! Fire salads, table 13! Hey- that plate is SOS-!” 

‘CRASH’

“HEY- be nice to my plates, do not throw them into the pit! you think they grow on trees or something?” sans shouted over the crescendo of Saturday night service. A retreating busser called a half hearted apology over their shoulder before he ducked back into the dining room.

“-and what are you looking at?” He said to Grillby, who was standing in the back corner of the dish-pit. He was gripping a broom handle like it was the only thing holding him upright, just watching sans chew out heavy handed staff. The flame elemental jumped and flared, then rushed off into the dining room, hopefully to find something to sweep up. He was the owner's kid, and kinda weird. Not in a bad way, just really quiet and awkward. Hard worker though, when he wasn't staring at you.

“PANS!” sans pushed another plastic rack of rinsed plates into the dish machine and pulled down the handle, running another cycle. Then he hoisted two large, heavy stacks of sauté pans and a smaller one of sizzle pans over to the line. “COMING DOWN!” He called, stepping between the line cooks while they furiously pushed through the full rail of tickets. The line at Grillin’s restaurant was always hot, noisy, and busy. 

“ Swingin’ hot-” he sidestepped to dodge a pan of bubbling creamed spinach and dropped his stacks of pans on a shelf under the gas range. He continued forward with the sizzle pans-

“behind!” He called as he stepped behind the Grill man and deposited the last pans on top of a speed-rack. 

“Thanks, kid.” Grillin thanked his efforts with a greasy head pat and sans grumbled . “We’ll make a linecook of you yet!” he cackled when sans returned the favor, wiping his own greasy hand down the back of his Chef’s Jacket. 

On his way back down the line, he dropped to his knees and collected the dirty pans from a bus-bin below the line. He spent just a moment consolidating them so they wouldn’t topple out all over the floor the second the thing was lifted. “COMING DOWN, HOT!” Bin in hands he continued back down the line. This time the cooks paused to let him pass, leaning out of the way of the sloshing hot grease.

Once he was back safe in his little corner of the kitchen, he dropped the hot pans into a soapy sink. Soapy water spilled over the counter and floor, and steam rolled off the pans in waves when the hot metal flash-boiled the water. He turned around and used the spray hose to rinse the bucket, then passed it to the Pantry cook on the end of the line to be deposited back under Sauté station. 

Grillby, back from whatever floor apparently needed to be swept at 7:30 on a Saturday, jumped back and deposited his broom before he fled into the kitchen with a stack of clean plates. Which is smart, it’s not exactly safe for a flame elemental to be in the wet dish-pit during the rush.

Sans turned back to the stainless steal counter where another few bins worth of dirty dishes from the dining room had stacked up. And apparently the glasses racks were full too, cause a pile of drinkware was accumulating. That new busser wasn’t going to last, he’d been told too many times already to break down his dishes properly in the pit. 

Sans started in on the new push. Spraying, racking up and running load after load while servers and bussers, anyone with empty hands emptied the machine and put away what was clean. 

It was easy when he was here. To get lost in the noise of the kitchen, and let all his troubles fall away. It was hard to be worried about anything in the middle of the dinner rush when everything is moving so fast around you. 

So it was shocking enough to send a plate flying from his hands and shattering into the sink when suddenly a fluttering jolt shot through his chest.
“ Whoa- sans, are you ok?” A server behind him asked with concern in her voice. 

-2 HP

Hot red blood was dripping into the dirty dish water, red blossoms blooming wherever a drop fell. He held his cut hand, staring into the swirling water, completely lost. The clatter of the kitchen faded away into buzzing as he watched his hand bleed, just waiting . After a few quiet seconds, he thought he could feel a twitching? In the middle of his chest.

“-ans?” he jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder, and the server that had surprised him jumped back as well. “Are you okay? I was trying to get your attention..” It was Poppy, a bunny from Snowdin. Her white fur was standing on edge, and she stared at his wound and the red dripping down his fingers with fear clear across her face. Bleeding wasn't common in the underground at all, and most monster’s went their whole life not ever seeing a drop of blood. Before he could respond, Grillin shoved his way past the staff crowding around to see the commotion. He stepped into the dish-pit, flooding it with warm orange light. “What happened, you got cut?” He tucked a dry towel into the back pocket of his pants and reached for sans’ bleeding hand to closely inspect it.

When he touched sans’ wet forearm the water instantly evaporated with a quiet sizzle.

Poppy stepped around him, and out of the pit. She stood for a moment, not sure if she should leave, then decided the Chef had it under control and went back to manning her tables, a few other servers had the good sense to follow her.

“This is just a little cut-” Grillin said. He was right, it was deep but short and clean, right across his middle phalange on his first finger. It was gushing blood but a few minutes of pressure and some cold fries would fix that. Grillin was looking at him expectantly, and sans realized he was waiting for a response. 

“oh, uh, yeah. the plate breaking surprised me more than anything, i’m- fine.” Grillin looked at him for a second, then the sink full of broken ceramic. He took the towel back out of his pocket and wrapped it around sans’ bloody hand. 

“Why don’t you go sit down for a minute, I'll send you back something to eat.” he patted the towel once it was secure, and sans nodded. He stepped past Grillin out of the pit and passed the line to the back prep kitchen, ignoring the concerned looks the cooks sent his way. Instead of going straight to the breakroom to sit at the table, he checked no-one was looking and ducked into the walk-in fridge. Inside, once he was sure he was alone he leaned against the door. He stood there breathing for a moment and feeling around the magic bound to his ribs. Then, finally. The flutter repeated itself. 

With his one good hand, he pulled open his dish shirt. The metal buttons popped as they were pulled apart, and he lifted the t-shirt he wore under his work clothes to look down at his soul.   Deep in the cyan depths he could see the shadow of tiny bones. It looked like they were squirming around, but when another flutter ran through his chest he finally realized.

His baby was kicking.

His head hit the door of the walk-in with a dull thud and he let out a laugh- that was really more of an exhausted/bewildered huff.

Not a moment later there was a loud ‘Bang!’ on the walk-in door and sans jumped forward right as it swung open, barely missing him. Behind it was Grillin, holding a basket of mozzarella sticks and giving him a bewildered look. “There you are, you're not crying are you? I don't think we’re busy enough for that.”

“no, no i'm not crying,” at least his face was dry, “i'm just- cooling down..”

“Ah, well. Cool down in the breakroom where you aren't bleeding on my vegetables.” He waved the basket of mozz sticks at him while he said it, and sans followed him out.

“Poppy was worried about you, she said you looked pretty out of it back there.” Grillin said, seating sans at the table in the breakroom. 

Sans stuck a mozzarella stick in the marinara on the side, lifted it to his mouth and took a bite. It was even hot, when he pulled the other half away a long string of cheese followed it. He broke it in half so he could swallow and reply.

“uh, yeah. i forget about the blood thing sometimes.” Grillin leaned against the door, watching him closely. 

“Fair enough. It’s not very common… when exactly did that start?” 

Sans gulped down another few bites and his hand finally stopped bleeding. HP 20/20. He set down the bloody towel, “it’s- i mean, i was born like that. or- made like that. side effects of the whole.. ‘test tube’ thing. that’s what dad said anyway.” 

He was suddenly hit with flashbacks of falling on the playground and scraping his patella and his dad explaining why he was the only one of his friends who’s booboos bled.

“Right, makes sense. We were just worried, ya'know? You’ve been acting kinda off lately, wanted to make sure there wasn’t something… Bigger- goin on.” Grillin stood from his place against the wall, and when sans motioned to follow him he waved him back down. “Take a few minutes, finish your food. I've gotta get back to the line.” He nodded, and Grillin disappeared back into the kitchen. 

‘Something bigger, huh?’ sans thought while he swirled another mozz stick through his ramekin of marinara. 

‘ You have no idea.’

sans was lounged over the love seat in the living room. He laid against one arm of the chair. Propping up his skull, while his legs hung off the other. Across from him, Susie was slouched back on the couch. Chin to her chest, legs out in front of her. In-between them was a black-and-red tiled Checkers board. Every few seconds one of them would reach forward, pick up a colored chip, and move it to another spot on the board. Sometimes taking an opposing colored piece while the other muttered a curse. So far sans was winning, but Susie wasn't far behind.

The central air conditioning in the apartments wasn't working, and warm air was blowing in from Hotland making the room stuffy. 

The radio hadn't played anything decent in a few hours now.

There weren't any snacks in the house, and walking to the store in the lobby downstairs sounded like a hassle.

Abe and Pike were stuck at home helping their moms clean out the attic, and sans’ dad was at the lab filing back-paperwork.

It was, by all accounts, the single most boring day that year. Even king Asgore would later account that he had spent the afternoon Unable to find a book to read. 

Incredibly dull day.

“So-” Susie began. She sounded intentionally casual. By her tone it was more then another half hearted attempt at a conversation to pass some time- before it petered out like the rest. “been actin’ weird lately.”

sans raised his brow bone at her, cautiously. 

“wha- me?”

“Don't you ‘wha me’ me dude. You were throwing up in band practice again.”

They might call it morning sickness, but for sans it was NOT limited to the early hours.

“you aren't even in band. why do you know about that?” sans asked and Susie shrugged.

“That's the classroom I smoke behind when I'm skipping class. Saw you come out the fire exit and heave in the bushes.”

'Click’

Sans moved another piece on the lacquered Board, formulating his response.

“i was just hungover...” He didn't look up at her.

“Sans-” Until she made him. “You're either lying through your teeth, or your drinking is completely out of control. Like Dad out of control. 

His stomach turned. Not just at the confrontation either, even if he was lying being compared to that drunk piece of shit hurt.

He sat up on the plush sofa, lowering his feet to the ground and reached for a near empty cold cup of tea on the table. More to break up the stillness of the room than any desire to sip on soggy tea leaves, but having something in his hands helped settle his nerves. Every half-second that passed he grew more tense. He stared at the table in front of him while he tried to dredge up something to say.

Eventually Susie pulled him out of his thoughts, “Dude.” He finally met her eye. Behind her bangs she looked so.. concerned.

“You okay?” her gentle tone broke him.

His resolve shattered and he sobbed. Sans had never cried in front of her, or really anyone before. Not since he was a little kid. So the horrified look that took over her face was justifiable. With no context except him having been depressed for months, and puking behind every other building in New Home it wouldn't be unreasonable for her to assume that sans was dying from some horrible disease. 

He sobbed into his hands, wet tears flooding his metacarpals/

Months of guilt, of hidden pain and discomfort, of pushing everyone away before they found him out, it all broke over sans. He was exhausted, in a way he couldn’t put to words. 

For almost 6 months he'd hidden his pregnancy from everyone. He'd spent every moment hyperaware of every twitch, every wobbly step. Every bite of extra food that might give him away. He carefully filtered every word that came out of his mouth. He was so tired of walking on eggshells, his feet were sore enough as is. He was just so- so tired of lying. He hated himself for it.

It was so selfish of him to pretend everything was fine, to hide something so huge from everyone that- everybody around him. His life was going to be completely turned over in a few-

Wait.

Oh god, oh shit-

When the fuck is he due?

How is this thing going to come out of him?

Fuuuuuuuck-

“ SANS! Dude what the hell is going on?!” oh right- Susie. He was scaring her, crying on the couch all of a sudden. She sat beside him, wrapped one arm around his shoulders and ran her other hand up and down his arms, trying her best to soothe him. “Can you tell me what's happening? Please?” Her voice sounded desperate, terrified.

He blinked at her at first, his face wet with freshly fallen tears. He wanted to tell her so, soo bad. He just couldn't keep it to himself any longer. Someone had to know. He had to tell someone. 

“i-im, im-” he rattled down a deep breath, breathing was taking way too much effort right now, “i'm. i'm.” just spit it out. “i'm preg-nant” he trailed off towards the end, but he got the point across. 

Susie froze stock-still beside him. He blinked a fresh wave of tears from his eyes and chanced a glance at her expression. In any other context the face would have been comedy gold. Here, sitting on the couch with the weight of his soon to be born baby pulling on his ribs, watching his closest friendship splinter and break. Her face killed him. This entire day had broken him. The past six months had broken him. He wanted to go home, nevermind he was already sitting in his Livingroom. He wanted to go lay down and sleep and never wake up, to escape this horrific nightmare. He gripped his shirt tightly, pulling at the fabric. Underneath were his ribs, and behind his ribcage was the pulsing blue magic suspending his baby. The thing looked like a real skeleton now, if small. More tears spilled out of his eye sockets, running down his face. His sobs sounded wet and blubbery. 

“There there-” Susie awkwardly ran her hand up and down his back, still trying to comfort him. “It’s gonna be okay.” She said, and sans laughed- laughed at the absurdity of his friend’s words. How could anything possibly be okay? He was a dead man walking. As soon as his dad finds out, he's fucked.

“how could you say that?” He slumped over her shoulder and she let him, leaning closer to support his weight. 

“Because, how could it not? What's the real worst case scenario?” 

“i die.” He mumbled.

“Huh?”

“i die in childbirth. Guess that's the worst case. Can't suck much more than that.” it's the best case, actually, cause then none of this is his problem. 

“Sans, have you been to the doctor at all?” He shook his head, and obviously Susie didn't like that answer. "Isn't your dad a doctor? why not tell him?"

sans stared at her with a deadpan expression. "i- i cant."

“Oh sans, I-" she sighed deeply, "You have too, dude. How far along are you?” she asked.

“um. s-six months..” he stammered. 

“SIX MON- Sans!” 

“that's when i found out, anyway.” Susie looked like she wanted to fall back and faint. 

“Dude you- you gotta-” she stammered, too shocked to form a real sentence. In reality, neither of them had any idea what to do. They curled closer together on the love seat, sans laying across her while she held him.

“Dude, you have to tell you're dad.”

“...i know..”

“Are you going to?” 

Sans let the silence Drag on. 

“Do you want me to help you?” For a moment he said nothing, then he nodded into her sleeve. “Alright. Tonight when he gets back?” 

“...sure…” 

They spent the next hour or so just sitting and talking, cuddled on the couch. 

They talked about options, if he wanted to give the baby up for adoption or keep it. They talked about names, plans for the future. What sans wanted for his kid when they grew up. They talked about the father, who sans still didn't talk to and who hadn't even approached him since their last meeting. They talked about nurseries and children's books and family traditions to be passed down. by the end of it, sans felt leagues better than he had in months. Everything felt just a little less uncertain.

Susie wasn't there that night when his dad came home, her dad called her, summoning her home before he arrived. Over the phone, he sounded furious. He'd always been an angry man, and Susie seemed nervous about heading home but sans could tell she was trying to hide it for his sake

Before she left they stood by the door, and she wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. "Everything is gonna be alright, man." 

He started crying all over again, silently this time. Tears sliding down his face. It was the first ounce of comfort he'd been offered since getting himself into this mess.

She patted his back soothingly before pulling away. Lifted her back back from beside the door and slung it over her shoulder, gave him one last reassuring smile, and disappeared, closing the door behind her.

His heart ached, watching her leave. But his chest felt lighter than ever.