"Psst."
Sans didn't move, remaining prone on the couch with his arm draped over his eyes.
"Psst! Hey!" The words came in a dramatic stage-whisper, and a prickle of irritation skittered along the back of his head. "Hey! Smiley Trashbag!"
Sans remained perfectly still. "You might want to think of a more productive use of your time, Flowey—like thinking of nicknames that aren't garbage." He raised his head and winked, but it was only his creeping dislike of the flower that kept a genuine smile off his face.
Flowey didn't seem bothered by the pun. He bounced softly up and down, an almost-convincing look of concern spreading over his face. "You know, I've been thinking…"
"A dangerous pastime."
Still, he didn't respond to Sans's jab. That got his attention; normally Flowey's face would shift dramatically into a teeth-bared grimace, but he kept that same lying expression—a false concern, a dangerous worry. "I've been thinking," he repeated, leaning closer. "About Frisk."
Sans pulled his arm off his face and turned his head to look at Flowey, doing his best to look bored. It would not do to let him see the sliver of anxiety and worry that crawled through his bones like a spreading disease. He remembered all too well Flowey's promise to kill Frisk again and again…and again…and again…and again, as many times as he wanted, until he got bored. He hated that flower.
"Frisk's a funny kid, don't you think?" Flowey began to tilt himself from side to side, making his golden petals twirl gently around his face. "I mean, for all intents and purposes, they look human…"
"What are you talking about?" Sans sat up, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket so Flowey wouldn't see them curling into fists.
"Look!" Flowey turned toward the window and for a brief, delightful moment, Sans imagined punching him—but as always, the thought of his damage cap stayed his hand. Instead, he followed his gaze and looked outside.
Undyne and Papyrus were sparring in the backyard, her glowing spear clashing against the long bone that his brother held clutched in one hand. They threw themselves together and tussled violently before breaking apart, circling like predatory cats before lunging again. She sent shining arrows shooting at Papyrus from all angles—Sans watched as he sent most of them spinning away into oblivion, but more than a few struck him. Undyne immediately stopped her attack and put a hand on his shoulder, a look of concern flickering through her yellow eye. Papyrus straightened up and nodded—he was okay.
"Frisk isn't even outside," Sans snapped at Flowey, trying and failing to keep his anxiety muffled. He hated watching Papyrus sparring with Undyne; he felt ridiculously useless every time he saw his brother take a hit, unable to help and unable to protect him.
"No, but this illustrates my point," Flowey said quietly, watching as Undyne set up a new attack. "She's strong, isn't she?"
"She wouldn't be Captain of the Royal Guard if she wasn't," Sans replied, wondering what the hell Flowey was getting at.
"Your brother's strong too," Flowey continued. "Even an idiot can see that when they're fighting—of course, your brother wouldn't hurt a fly, but my point stands."
"If you woke me up to make observations," Sans started, but Flowey turned to look at him with a fanged smile that stopped him in his tracks.
"Kind of makes you wonder how Frisk got away from Undyne," he murmured, his eyes twinkling malevolently. "Yes, they ran, but Undyne's green magic works kinda like your blue magic. Controls the SOUL, you know."
"I know," Sans answered curtly. He didn't like where this conversation was going. He didn't like it at all.
"So Frisk would have had to fight," Flowey went on, not taking his eyes from Sans's face.
Sans did his best to keep his expression neutral, but it was growing harder with every word.
"Either Frisk is incredibly adept at dodging—like you—or Undyne decided to go easy on them. Unlikely, given how bloodthirsty I've heard she was. Or…"
"Why don't you stop talking in circles and tell me what you're playing at," Sans growled, all trace of humor gone from his voice.
"Or there's a third option," Flowey said quietly, still watching Sans with that terrible smile. "You know about it, and I know about it, and maybe…just maybe…our small human friend knows about it too."
"Resets," Sans whispered.
Flowey's smile grew, reaching unnatural proportions. "Yes. Exactly. It explains a lot, doesn't it? Living through meeting Undyne, getting through the entire Underground without ever fighting back. Certainly would be handy if they had all the time in the world to study you, to anticipate your next move with unerring accuracy, to survive because they had died over and over and over again."
Sans didn't reply. He felt cold and sick with the realization that Flowey was right.
"You've seen it for yourself. Their lack of EXP and Love." Flowey began to bounce softly again. "Humans are sturdy, yes, but children are not."
"And exactly why did you bring this up?" Sans asked through clenched teeth, fighting the urge to attack.
Flowey smiled innocently. "I know how you feel about resets, Sans, and I especially know how you feel about those who cause them. Maybe you should ask Frisk just how far they'd gotten before they decided to do it all over again." And before Sans could say anything in response, Flowey disappeared into the ground and was gone.
Author's Note: This story isn't sticking rigidly to canon, but I found myself thinking about Sans's dialogue in the genocide fight ("our reports show a massive anomaly in the timespace continuum. Timelines jumping left and right, stopping and starting..." , "knowing that one day, without any warning, it's all going to be reset" , and "even if we do, we'll just end up right back here without any memory of it, right?"
Point is, I imagined a scenario, thought about it too hard and ended up hurting my own feelings, ha ha. So I decided that all of you get to suffer with me.