Sans lays back in his chair. The fireplace flickers beside him, crackling softly.
He smiles and cocks his head slightly, watching the activities of the house under half-closed sockets. Frisk and Papyrus are cooking in the kitchen (well, if what Papyrus does in a kitchen can be called "cooking") across from his chair. Frisk tells Papyrus a joke and he lets out a shriek, but Sans catches sight of a smile on his face.
Sans doesn't need to be a participant to be satisfied. He's just glad they're happy. Besides, they're not who he needs to keep an eye on.
He dips his head, turning his attention to the opposite corner of the room. He stares at the potted plant sitting on the side table, feeling the magic in his eye pulse and writhe. His instincts tell him that watching is the last thing he should be doing, but he ignores them.
The golden flower is slightly drooped, glaring at the fireplace; his petals furling in. He seems to be sulking. Typical.
Flowey slowly turns to face him.
"What are you looking at, Smiley Trashbag?" He snaps.
Sans lets slip a low chuckle. He shifts, placing his elbow on the arm of the chair, his hand idly propping up his head.
"What's eating you, Buttercup?" Sans chortles. "You used to be so cheery."
No one's watching; they probably wouldn't object if Sans shoved that pot just a might bit closer to the fireplace. Flowey looks like he could use a little lightening up after all. Temptation gnaws at him.
...Naw. He promised Frisk he'd leave the plant alone. Unfortunately.
Flowey's expression becomes positively sour. "I don't like you looking at me like that." He growls, huffing.
Sans cackles. It's hard to resist, not that he tries.
"Like what, pal?"
Flowey sticks out his tongue.
"Let me out of this pot and you'll find out." He hisses, capering from side to side. Clearly thinks himself hilarious.
Sans laughs, stretching his body. His joints crack audibly. He grins a tad wider.
"I dunno man, Frisk seems pretty content with leavin' ya in there. And who am I to argue with the kid?"
Not as though he didn't object fervently when Frisk first dragged the little weed home, but hey, what did it matter, right? Maybe it's better this way anyhow-he can mind the little creep. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer and all that, wasn't that how it went?
Of course, Sans prefers his enemies 6 feet under, but that's beside the point.
"Frisk isn't here now." Flowey growls. "Let me out."
Sans laughs again. "Friends don't let friends' pets out behind their backs."
Flowey's petals fan out, rearing up like an angry snake.
"I am not their PET!" He spits.
Sans giggles. "Then what would you call yourself exactly?" He leans in a bit, grinning. "Houseplant."
Flowey lunges forward, snapping his teeth.
"Don't you dare!"
Sans doesn't even blink. He leans closer, still smirking. "Oh yeah? Whatcha gonna do about it, weed?"
"RAARGH!" The flower is in a frenzied rage, snapping his teeth and straining to the end of his stem.
"You're gonna pay for this! I will make everyone suffer for this! But especially you!"
Sans teleports himself back further on the chair with a yawn.
"Yeah, I won't hold my breath."
It's not like Flowey can do anything. Or that he's Sans' main concern at the moment.
After all...it's very likely this happiness won't last. It's nigh impossible to predict a reset. And he has a feeling the next go-round will be an extremely unpleasant one.
He tries to put that thought out of his mind and focus on the tiny snapdragon throwing a hissy fit in front of him.
"Must be rough, huh?" Flowey sneers, his expression turning into mocking sympathy.
"Not knowing when Frisk will reset the timeline. How many times has it been now, I wonder? Surely you must be so terrified of waking up back in Snowdin?"
Sans tries to keep the surprise in his face at bay, but he knows he's failing. His eyes narrow. "What the hell do you know about timelines, poppy seed?"
He knows Flowey is right about his emotions, but best not let them get in the way of a good line of inquiry.
"Oh, this and that." Flowey sniggers. "I know that it probably plagues your every living moment. Makes you whimper in your sleep."
Sans lets his jaw shift, his teeth scraping against each other. Then he releases the tension from his shoulders and smiles, giving an easy shrug. "I dunno. Sounds like life, pal." He winks. "I'll bet being demoted to a houseplant doesn't lend itself to a good night's rest either. You do sleep, right?"
"Heh…. Hee hee hee!" Flowey shudders with laughter, smirking.
"I sleep way better than you, Trashbag. It's not easy to put on a brave face for everyone, huh? Must be exhausting." He giggles.
"I see you… I see everything in this cesspool of a house. I see the look on your stupid face when Frisk walks by. After you have a moment with that stupid Boss Monster. It's pathetic, really. How you cover everything up with jokes and laughter."
Flowey's laughter crackles like a scratched record.
Sans imagines for a moment, wiping that smug look off the plant's face, preferably with the help of an open flame.
Then he takes a breath and relaxes again, chuckling. "Better than throwing temper tantrums, I guess."
He doesn't need the flower to tell him he's pathetic, but there's not much else to be done about the situation except go with it, and that includes Flowey hanging around. Even if he'd much rather toss the plant into the fireplace and tell Frisk he was sent to a lovely farm in the country or something.
Flowey sticks out his tongue. "You'll crack eventually. And when you do, I'll be waiting."
Sans grins. "Think you've cracked already, man." He gives the table Flowey's sitting on a little shove. "Can't say it's not entertaining, either."
Flowey shrieks, his entire pot rocks from side to side.
"HEY!"
Sans can't help but cackle. "What's the matter? I thought you couldn't wait to get out of that pot." He gives the table another little push.
Flowey yelps as his pot teeters to the side and falls. The terracotta cracks as he faceplants into the table. The plant flails, roots grasping for the soil. A fish out of water.
"Ugh…. You really….You really shouldn't have done that."
Well, shit. That isn't good.
Sans has to be honest with himself-he has no idea how powerful Flowey actually is. He's heard things from Frisk, but it's still hard to gauge …
Goddammit, Sans. If he has to off Flowey, Frisk is gonna kill him.
Sans activates his eye. It burns bright blue as the power surges through him. He grabs Flowey in his telekinetic clutches and hoists him above the floor.
"You stay like this plant, or I'll beat the shit outta ya." He mutters.
He hears a commotion in the kitchen. Frisk probably heard the crash.
"Hey! LET ME GO!"
Flowey hangs in the air, roots grasping at nothing. There's a crackling sound as spikes form along his stems. His beady eyes dart from side to side, looking from Sans to the kitchen.
"FRISK! SANS IS ATTACKING ME! HELP!"
Sans growls. "You little piece of shit."
It's a clever tactic, one he expects and yet is still unprepared for.
Sans glances at the threshold of the kitchen. Sure enough, Frisk and Papyrus are standing there, staring at him.
The back of his neck vertebrae is oddly hot. Great. Now he feels like an ass. Probably because he's been one.
He still doesn't let Flowey go. He turns his attention back to the weed, centering him in the air, keeping him from expanding his roots to the walls or the floor.
"Kid, I..." He feels his hand shake slightly. He takes a deep breath. "Frisk, can you get another pot?"
"HE ATTACKED ME! HE ATTACKED ME! I WAS JUST SITTING HERE AND HE KNOCKED ME OVER!" Flowey cries, wriggling against Sans' grip.
Well, Sans supposes it's not untrue. The realization fills him with shame, which he promptly buries.
Frisk watches over the scene, looks to Papyrus, then to Sans. Their expression is solemn as they give a nod and quickly pad towards the backdoor to fetch another pot.
"Sans?" Papyrus begins slowly. "You wouldn't attack Flowey, would you? He's a good flower, now."
Yeah and I'm a good person now too. Sans wants to scoff, but that wouldn't be fair to Papyrus. He grits his teeth. "Look Pap, I'm just not taking any risks right now."Except taunting the evil plant and nearly freeing him of course. "Let...let's just get him back to another pot, ok? I'll explain later."
"DON'T LEAVE ME ALONE WITH HIM! HE'S NUTS!" Flowey shrieks.
"O-Okay, brother…. I just hope you didn't upset Frisk…"
Sans sighs. "You and me both, bro..."
Frisk returns with an even larger pot than last time. It has a little bow tied around it. They present it with a smile before going over to the table and scraping some of the extra Underground soil into it. The new soil was fresh from the Surface.
"My… My soil…" Flowey looks downtrodden. Frisk nods sadly, pointing to the pot.
"It's not okay!" Flowey spits. "That soil was all I had left!"
"Flowey!" Papyrus rushes over to stand next to Frisk. "Please behave! You need to go into your new pot now!"
The little flower droops, spikes retracting. Defeated.
Sans keeps his eyes fixed on Flowey as he lowers him into the new pot. "Don't you try anything, weed." He murmurs.
He lowers him slowly and steadily, only relaxing when Flowey's roots hit the soil and not a millisecond sooner.
Sans inhales, realizing he forgot to breathe. He leans against the couch, shaking a bit. He's not sure whether this fear is of Flowey, the looming possibility of a reset, or from what Frisk's reaction will be now that the danger has passed. Probably a little bit of all of three.
He carefully avoids eye contact with Frisk, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "'m sorry kid..."
Flowey glares at Sans for a moment before curling his petals inwards and turning away from everyone.
Frisk adjusts the bow around the pot, concern written across their face at the sad little plant. They seem … disappointed… But they still give Sans a nod and a small smile before picking up the flower pot and taking Flowey to their room.
Papyrus puts a hand on Sans' shoulder. "Brother… You really shouldn't have done that. We all know Flowey likes to rile people up but giving into him is what he wants. You have to be stronger than that."
Sans wants to melt into the floor. "It wasn't like that." Kinda was. "But whatever. It doesn't matter."
His instinct is to retreat, maybe to the shed, maybe further, but he's not sure if he can leave Flowey alone with the people he cares about.
They obviously handle him better than you. A voice hisses in his head, and though he wants to snarl at it, deny its truth, he knows he can't.
Sans hates this feeling, this sense of vulnerability. His only real use is protecting people after all, and he can't even seem to do that right.
Papyrus sighs, sitting down next to him.
"It is okay, though. Because I understand it can be hard for you to trust. And Flowey is very difficult to trust after what he's done. But Frisk is determined that he can be good. And that's enough for me."
"I trust Frisk..." Sans says quietly. his tone turns bitter. "But I don't think I'll ever trust that little weed." The plant knows more than he's revealed, and he toys with people's lives without thought or remorse. Neither are traits Sans is inclined to find trustworthy. Still...
He sighs again. "I'll lay off, though. For Frisk's sake." He lets his gaze meet Papyrus'. "That's a promise."
Frisk returns to the room, flowerpot in hand. Flowey looks sullen and refuses to look up.
Frisk places the pot in front of Sans and nods to the golden flower.
"I'm sorry, Sans." He mutters, looking to the side.
Sans hadn't been sure what exactly he was going to say, or how he could possibly make up for everything. Flowey apologizing is the last thing he expects to hear.
He stares at the plant, dumbfounded. His gaze draws to the floor. "'m sorry, too." Maybe not for screwing with him, but for plenty else, so the apology at least sounds sincere.
Sans clears his throat. "I'm sorry about your soil." He figures he should be the better person here. Or well, he should at least pretend. For Frisk and Papyrus and Toriel and the rest of them. They all believe in him for some reason. Trust him, even. He owes it to them.
Flowey's expression sours but Frisk clicks their tongue and he holds back his sharp retort. They just want everyone to be happy.
"It's…. It's fine." Flowey mumbles before turning back to Frisk. "Can you put me away now, please?"
Frisk nods, giving Sans a smile before removing the flower from the room.
"See? He's not so bad." Papyrus says, beaming.
It's hardly proof of Flowey's goodwill and moreso evidence that Frisk has him under their thumb, for one reason or another. But Sans doesn't say that. He instead gives a small smile. "Fine, I guess he may not be such a bad seed after all."
"You'll see! You'll be friends one day!" Papyrus pats his shoulder enthusiastically. "He's just … He's never had friends before."
Friendless or not, Flowey is dangerous, and in many ways, that's all Sans cares about.
Still, perhaps he's been harsh. After all Flowey is somewhat incapacitated now, and he is significantly less of a malicious conspirator than he used to be.
It doesn't mean Sans will ever be one of his friends if Flowey should ever start truly making any, but...
Sans shrugs. "Well I'm sure it'll all work out for him." Sans pats Papyrus on the arm. "After all, he has people like you and Frisk to help him figure it out."
And people like me to keep an eye on him.