"i wonder how many of these I can stack on your head, kiddo..." Frisk twitched slightly, and the stack of micro corndogs on their head teetered dangerously.
"quit moving, kid, or we'll both be in the doghouse," Sans chuckled at his own bad pun while Frisk rolled their eyes. The game had begun when Frisk had served Sans his plate of food along with his customary bottle of ketchup. Sans had teasingly plopped one of the corndogs on Frisk's head, and it had only escalated from there. Sans was now standing on his chair to place the delicious bites, as he had now stacked twenty-eight corndogs. Frisk held completely still as Sans was about to place the last on their head, but suddenly the bar doors were flung open. Papyrus sauntered over from the entryway, and took a seat across from his brother.
"how'd it go, paps?" the corndogs had long since fallen to the floor, and Frisk had made it their personal mission to round them all up. Papyrus heaved a long-suffering sigh and lit up a cigar that he had tucked in his suit pocket.
"THEY SAID THAT THEY DON'T WANT US SELLING OUR GOODS, EVEN IF THEY ARE ONLY CONSUMABLE TO MONSTERS. THEY SAID THAT IF IT INHIBITS OUR KIND THE SAME WAY IT DOES HUMANS... THEN IT MAKES OUR WARES, NO MATTER HOW MAGICAL THEY ARE, ILLEGAL." Sans watched as Papyrus slung his knapsack onto the floor in annoyance, and several items came spilling out of it. Papyrus' rifle, and his backup cigars clattered onto the floor, but the only thing out of place was a battered and crumpled fedora. Sans paid the article of cloth no mind, and turned to look back at Papyrus.
"if by 'wares' you mean alcohol, then yeah, that sucks." Papyrus smiled lovingly at his brother, who returned the look, and they both looked reminiscently around the bar. Grillby had had help from the skelebros and Frisk at relocating and refurbishing the bar he had had below ground, before all the monsters had moved to the surface. However, the humans and their prohibition laws were not taking kindly to the monster bar. The brother's thoughts were promptly interrupted by Frisk gesturing emphatically at Sans. Frisk was holding out the battered fedora that had fallen from the knapsack.
"what do you have there, buddy?" Sans asked. He glanced up at Papyrus, who took a long drag from his cigar, and held out his hand to Frisk.
"YOU'D… BETTER NOT TOUCH THAT, YOU DON'T KNOW WHERE IT HAS BEEN…" Papyrus smirked at his own words, and Sans raised a questioning eye ridge at him.
"WHAT?" Papyrus asked defensively. Sans gave him a pointed look, to which Papyrus rolled his eyes.
"ALRIGHT, SO I STOLE IT FROM THIS FELLA WHO TRIED TO CHECK ME ON THE WAY OUT OF MY MEETING…" Sans chuckled at the admission.
"that's fine, bro. the situation is already… old hat…" Papyrus groaned, and Frisk giggled from behind their hand. They moved closer to Sans with the hat in hand, and shyly tapped his shoulder. Sans leant forward, and smiled gently.
"what is it, hoss?" In one swift move, Frisk placed the fedora squarely on Sans' head. He glanced up at the hat in amusement, and looked back at Frisk who signed that they liked the look. Papyrus snickered behind the cigar between his teeth.
"I GUESS I SHOULD STEAL MORE OFTEN." Sans narrowed his eyes, tipping the brim of his new accessory back, and sparing Papyrus a sidelong glance, he grinned slyly.
"alrighty then, bro. but don't come knocking on my fe-door-a…"
"SANS, NO-"
"when the police stop by…"
"SANS, DON'T YOU DA-"
"to arrest you for your bad hat-bits…"
Grillby was in the back room washing the rest of the plates when he heard a strangled screeching noise. He rushed to the front of the bar, and stuck his head around the corner to see Papyrus orange-faced and choking on a cigar while Sans was doubled over in laughter. Frisk was hopping from foot to foot in a slight panic as Papyrus' face turned an even brighter orange than before. Grillby only stayed in the room long enough to see Frisk dump a glass of water over Papyrus, and glancing backward he couldn't help but smirk at seeing Sans in a fedora.