Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Internment AU: As soon as the Monsters come out of the Underground, they are thrown into abandoned zoos that function as internment camps. The story begins when the camps have existed for almost twenty years.
I wrote this fic on a whim. Because I needed some queer Sans fic in my life. Because I needed a POC main character for once. Because I was having a mini existential crisis and needed to translate it into words somehow. Because love is beautiful and terrifying in equal parts.
I actually wrote this months and months ago but never posted it... but after the inauguration I felt like it was about time for this fic.
I wish I could tell you what to expect from this fic, but even as the one that wrote it, I don't know what to tell you. It's… feelings, mostly. Good ones? Bad ones? Happy ones? Sad ones? I don't even know.
Sorry that was unhelpful. It's all I've got for you.
Five
I'm supposed to be in bed, but I can't sleep. The monster is back in my closet. Mommy tells me that monsters are nice and nothing to be afraid of, so I should be happy if I have one in my closet. That's why I like when Daddy takes me to bed, because he just scares the monster off like he's supposed to.
But when I'm about to walk into the room, I hear Mommy talk. And she's angry. Daddy is sitting in his chair and Mommy's sitting in her chair and she's yelling a little. I think maybe I'll be in trouble for getting out of bed if she's already angry about something, so I hide around the corner.
I can hear Mommy's words, but I don't really know what most of it means.
It's completely archaic. You should see it, Steven. They're all shoved into cages like animals.
Well… honey… they kind of look like animals, if you haven't noticed…
I can't believe you just said that.
I'm not defending it! I just… I mean… You see how we treat immigrants, and they're human. You know better than me how we treat people of color. Is it so surprising that this is our solution to things that call themselves Monsters crawling out of the deep and saying they want to be friends? Don't make that face, Monique, I'm not saying I agree. I'm only saying that our country has a bad habit of making enemies out of strangers. You know?
Yeah. I know. Doesn't mean I can't be angry about it. I mean, what does that say to our son?
Our son is five. He probably doesn't even know Monsters exist yet.
He does know, Steven, because you scare them out of his closet at night!
That's an imaginary monster. The boogie man, a vampire, crap like that. He doesn't know about this kind, capital M. You know that.
… Maybe not, but he knows that being anything but a white, heterosexual male is—
Heterosexual? Jesus, Mona, he's a kid!
A mother knows these things.
What things?
Steven, none of this is the point.
Then what is?
The point is I don't care if it pisses people off—I'm going to fight for the rights of these creatures, and not just on Facebook, not anymore. I am in a position to make a real difference, and I plan to make it.
That skeleton—
Sans.
Yes, him. Did this really all start because of him?
Not just because of him! For all of them!
But you didn't care nearly as much before him.
… I mean, it makes you wonder, doesn't it? I saw what he can do. He could leave whenever he wanted. But he just… doesn't.
They get quiet and I wonder if it's safe to go out now. Mommy isn't yelling as much anyway.
But Daddy starts talking again.
I think it's a good cause, Mona, don't get me wrong. These creatures have done nothing to deserve imprisonment, and if what you've told me is true, they're far kinder than humans. I just worry that you're going to get really unpopular when you start getting vocal about this issue.
I don't care about popularity.
And you shouldn't. But in this case, this could affect your safety.
Somebody has to be the voice of the Monsters or they'll be trapped forever. I think Sans stays because he doesn't feel right leaving when his friends are trapped, and I can't help but respect that kind of honor. I have to help them.
Okay. Okay, you win. Just… be careful.
Always.
I never like when you say that.
She's laughing now and I know it's safe to go out there, but I realize all of a sudden that I know what to do and I don't need Mommy or Daddy to help after all.
I think I understand what they're saying now.
Monsters are trapped. They aren't mean, they're just stuck, and someone has to let them out.
I run to my room and open the door to my closet.
"Come out, little monster. It's okay. You don't have to stay in here anymore."
I look inside, but I don't see it. Maybe it's hiding?
"Are you Sans? Mommy likes you, and she doesn't want you to be stuck, so you should come out."
He doesn't answer.
"Okay, you can come out later. My bed is comfy. You can share with me if you want."
Mommy says I'm good at sharing, and I want to prove to Sans that it's true.
I crawl back into bed with the closet wide open, thinking as I fall asleep that I kind of hope Sans really is in my closet. He sounds nice.
Eight
When my friends at school tell me that my mom is stupid, I'm pretty mad. I mean, what do they know about Monsters? Nothing. Nobody knows anything. At least, that's what Mom says. They're all just scared for no reason.
Plus, I've had a Monster living in my closet for probably three years now and I know he's nice. I mean, he doesn't come out or anything, but I know he is. Mom likes him. She talks about him a lot. Him and his brother Papyrus and a ghost named Napstablook. She tells me stories about Undyne and Alphys and all the Monsters every night before bed, so I know what they're like.
And the reason I know Sans is sometimes in my closet is because Mom told me he can teleport. So sometimes he's in that zoo with the rest of them, but sometimes he hangs out in my room, because he and my mom are friends. But he doesn't know how to get to her closet for some reason. I gave him directions once, but I don't know if he's tried yet. Mom says he's real lazy.
But anyway. The kids say Mom is trying to get all the Monsters out of the Zoos and that it's a bad thing. Like Greg Miller, he told me they'll all come out and try to eat our faces, and I told him he was stupid and threw some bark at him, and Mrs. Bolton sent me to the principal's office even though I didn't even start it, and they called my dad and he told me that I know better than to throw things and then my dad told my mom and she also told me that I know better than to throw things but she also said that I was right and I was like HA I KNEW IT!
Mona! Dad sounded kinda mad.
Daryn, your father's right. You can't throw things and that won't be tolerated. But next time someone is saying things like that, use your words to tell them why they're wrong.
"But how?" I asked. "I didn't know what to say."
You know what to say. That Monsters are nice and that we don't judge people by how they look. Right?
I nod. "Yeah."
Good.
So we're not punishing him at all? Dad asked, seeming annoyed.
Oh, we are. I took his iPad from his room. No games this weekend.
"Moooooom!"
So yeah, she took away Angry Birds, but it's okay cuz she gave it back after church on Sunday.
And then next time I got in a fight with Goober Greg, I didn't even get in trouble cuz I used my words like she said.
Your mom is gonna get us all killed! My mom told me so.
"Your mom is wrong. She doesn't know Monsters like we do. They're nice."
Nice? They can't be! They're ugly!
"Maybe you're right. I mean you're not nice, so maybe all ugly people are mean."
Even Dad seemed to think that was funny enough that he didn't really want to punish me, even though Mrs. Bolton didn't exactly laugh.
But not only Greg talks about it. A lot of kids think it's a bad thing to let the Monsters out. Because they've been in there for decades and it's been good so far, so why change a good thing. Mom says it's logic like that that keeps people oppressed, but I don't know the rest of the rant because that's when I stop listening. She's real hard to understand when she gets angry about Monsters.
But I do know that Monsters shouldn't be locked away. And I hope that everyone else starts to get it someday.
Eleven
When Mom told me I could come to work with her, I was so stoked. I begged Dad to let me skip karate lessons because I really really really wanted to go and he said, "Settle down, squirt" like he always does when I'm making a big deal out of something he doesn't think matters very much.
So I'm in the car with Mom.
Daryn, I want you to listen to me. I look over at her and I'm thinking about how I'm pretty excited I even weigh enough to sit in the front seat with her, which I've only done a couple times. What you're going to see is going to be upsetting.
"Because all the Monsters are stuck?"
She nods. But they are all really excited to meet you and they feel better when they're not thinking about the sad stuff. So I want you to just be yourself, okay? Talk about happy things. You'll make their day.
"Will Sans be there?"
She smiles, but she looks a little sad. Where else would he be, honey?
I go quiet. I mean, I don't really still believe Sans hangs out in my closet sometimes.
But I think part of me hoped until she said that. Like still thinking the Easter bunny puts out eggs until you catch your dad in the back yard sticking a little yellow ball beneath a planter, like pretending to be asleep while Mom takes the tooth out from under your pillow.
There is no jolly skeleton hiding in my bedroom, no secret friend that also hates getting woken up when the sheets are super warm.
And I think part of me is scared he won't be like I always imagined him. I've been wondering what he's like for six years now. Were Mom's stories overselling him? Was my own imagination getting the best of me?
I walk in with my mom, holding her hand tight, and I get what she means about it being sad. I don't get where the beds are. I mean, I know animals used to be in the cages, but now they're not animals, so there should be seats and stuff, right? There must be a sleeping area I can't see. Either way, I feel like I should give them my PS4. They must be real bored in here. But I don't see any plugs, so maybe that wouldn't work out.
MONIQUE! I AM SO PLEASED TO SEE YOU!
I glance towards the voice and I have to crane my neck up, up, up to actually look into his eyes.
A tall skeleton in an orange scarf grins down at me and I know exactly who it is.
"Papyrus!" I cry, running over to him. I end up shoving my face in between two bars to get a closer look as he bends down.
NOW LET'S SEE HERE. YOU'RE HERE WITH MONIQUE, SO THE GREAT PAPYRUS CAN ONLY ASSUME YOU ARE DARYN!
"Yeah, that's me, and you're Papyrus! You like to cook and you call your brother a Lazybones!"
Papyrus bursts out laughing. I DO! HE IS! SPEAKING OF WHICH, WHERE IS THAT LAZYBONES NOW? He looks around dramatically. WAIT A MOMENT, he tells me, and then he marches over to a gap in the rocks. SANS, WAKE UP, DARYN IS HERE!
Sans mumbles something I can't understand.
SANS, YOU CAN SLEEP LATER! There's some bickering before Papyrus comes back over. I'M SORRY DARYN, BUT MY BROTHER IS REALLY SLEEPY. YOU CAN MEET HIM ANOTHER TIME, OKAY?
I'm a little hurt, but I quickly get over it, because I have so much fun with everyone else. Undyne calls me punk and laughs a lot, Alphys is kind of quiet but pretty funny. Papyrus cracks me up. It's hard not to laugh when I'm with Papyrus. Sometimes he says kind of dumb things, but that's one of my favorite things about him. Sometimes I wonder if he's just a really tall eleven year old, because he doesn't act so different from my friends from school.
But all the time I'm there, I think in the back of my mind that it'll be pretty awesome when I finally get to meet Sans.
I'll just have to wait 'til next week.
Fourteen
But I didn't meet him the next week. Or the week after that. Or the next mouth. Or even the next year.
I've been going to see the Monsters at the Zoo once a week for three years now, and every time Papyrus makes some kind of excuse.
Sans is sleeping.
Sans is practicing his jokes.
Sans is learning how to play trombone.
Sans is teaching himself the intricacies of quantum physics.
Sans is A LAZY USELESS LUMP OF CALCIUM AND YOU SHOULDN'T WANT TO MEET HIM ANYWAY.
I think that answer was the one that made me stop asking where Sans was… but I never stopped wondering.
I spent so much of my life imagining what Sans would be like. Fantasizing this chilled out, hilarious skeleton that would sit with me for hours and tell me stupid jokes.
And instead he just hides away in that goddamn cave of his. It doesn't take a genius to know he's avoiding me on purpose and I don't exactly think it's funny.
I'm in the car with my mom on the way home from the Zoo when I finally ask her what's up with Sans.
He's very shy, honey. I worked with the Monsters for years before he came out to meet me.
I know that Sans is the reason that she started investing her whole life into fighting for their freedom, but I don't understand why anymore. All the others spend time with me, have always liked me, but he doesn't even bother to come out and say hi. I mean, what did I ever do to make him hate me?
Mom reads my mind like always. Daryn, it has nothing to do with you. Humans scare him.
"I'm just a kid. What's he think I'm gonna do to him?"
She sighs and her voice is heavy, but I don't know why. Kids scare him more than anything, baby. I always knew he might hide from you. I admit I didn't think he'd do it for this long… but it was always a possibility.
I don't like this answer.
I come to visit the Monsters the next week, and the week after, but my heart isn't in it and they all can tell.
I just can't stop staring at his hiding place.
Why does he hate me?
It's the next week that I try to talk to him for the first time.
No response.
And then I get mad.
"Well fine then! Clearly you're nothing like Mom said, so I don't want to meet you anyway!"
And I stomp out to the car.
Mom follows me out. Daryn, you go back in there and apolog—
"I don't want to go back anymore! What the hell is the point?"
Language, young man!
"Who cares?"
You're going to when you're grounded for a month, Daryn Jones.
I roll my eyes. "What, for not liking your friends?"
For disrespecting your mother and your friends, she snaps, seeming disappointed. Like I care. Get in the car. I'm taking you home.
I don't speak again until we're sitting in our respective seats. "Good. Papyrus is an idiot anyway."
She stares at me, her eyes shocked and sad. Papyrus would be heartbroken to hear you say that. I can't believe you would speak about a friend that way.
She's right and I know it, but I'm too mad to admit it. I mean, whatever, I'm grounded anyway, what's the point of humoring her now?
But I think about the expression Papyrus would have if he ever knew I said something like that about him and I have to turn towards the window so my mom doesn't see my eyes start shining.
Seventeen
When I finally get my own car, I know where I'll go first. After that stupid meltdown I had a couple years back, I never went back to the Zoo with my mom. I didn't want to admit to her how fucked up I knew that whole thing was, but to be honest, I miss all the Monsters. Shunning them all because Sans is a shithead was completely unfair.
So when my mom thinks I'm out to lunch with my boyfriend, I take my old-to-the-world-but-new-to-me Honda Civic on its first trip that isn't to and from school: to the Zoo.
But I'm pretty surprised when I show up and find the place empty.
There's a guy working the front, the same guy that did back when I was fourteen. His name is Martin. I approach him and he recognizes me, refers to me by name.
"Where is everyone?" I ask.
The testing.
"Testing? For what?"
He looks confused. It's all over the news.
"I don't watch the news, man, that shit's boring."
What, your mom hasn't told you anything?
That I don't want to answer, because I don't want to admit that after I stopped coming to the Zoo all those years ago, I told my mom I didn't care about the Monsters anymore and she eventually stopped telling me anything about work because I insisted on pretending I no longer wanted to hear it. I wonder only in this moment if she's always known I was faking it and if she stopped telling me not to respect my commands not to hear about it, but to punish me for being a shithead about it.
"Can you just tell me?"
I think how tired I sound is what makes him tell me that my mom and others have taken the strides necessary to get the Monsters out of internment—and past that, give them actual citizenship. It's finally, after almost thirty years, been decided at the federal level that the imprisonment of creatures with the level of intelligence that Monsters have is inhumane. They've gone through IQ and psychiatric testing that has made it clear that they aren't a hindrance nor a threat to our way of living. But before they're allowed out into the world, they have to be tested and given IDs based on their ability to function in society. The higher your rank, the more rights you have. Apparently, Rank 1 Monsters will be able to own property, apply to human jobs, open bank accounts, apply for marriage licenses with other Monsters…
I mean, this is a big deal. I've been seeing rallies on Monsters' behalf on TV for years, been noticing the signs on lawns about voting in favor of Monster equality… but I had no idea at all that actual steps were being taken to make it happen.
All the time, I think I'm maturing, that I'm becoming an adult, and I realize that I'm still just a kid. This is huge and I haven't heard a word.
I'm happy though. Really happy. Papyrus, that silly skeleton, deserves to get out of here.
Martin tells me that the government is furiously backtracking after being as stupid as they were, offering Rank 1 Monsters unemployment for a year so they can try to find jobs. I don't know what the other Monsters are expected to do—I mean, what, if you were Rank 4 were you just supposed to starve?
I'm starting to wonder if the government even functions at all.
But then again. Here I am, sitting here, listening to history in the making. Monsters are going to be citizens. They're going to finally be walking among us.
Took long enough.
Nineteen
When I see Papyrus walking through campus, I honestly can't believe it. I never thought I'd see the derp again, but here he is, clearly a student at the same university as me. He's wearing these douchey stunner shades and a shirt that says "Cool Dude" and shit, if I'm being honest, it suits him.
"Papyrus!" I call it out before I completely realize I'm doing it. He hasn't seen me in five years. Will he even recognize—
DARYN!
Well. Guess he does.
DARYN JONES, I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, AM GREATLY PLEASED TO SEE YOU ONCE AGAIN! YOU'VE BECOME QUITE HANDSOME.
My face goes hot. Handsome? Jesus, Papyrus.
"Oh. Uh. Thank you."
YOU ARE FLUSHED. DO YOU NEED A GLASS OF WATER?
After a moment, I start cracking up. He hasn't changed at all, and that honestly makes me really happy.
Then I remember his brother.
I haven't been bitter towards him for a while now. I understand why he didn't want to meet me. I mean, I don't know why any Monsters would want to meet any humans, to be honest, but especially with his history with children…
But anyway, the lack of bitterness doesn't stave off the discomfort. A guy I used to hero worship and then spent several years hating is always going to be a weird topic of conversation.
But I eventually say, after clearing my throat, "And your brother? How is he?"
OH, SANS IS THE SAME AS ALWAYS. LAZY. FULL OF AWFUL PUNS. HE IS WORKING AND AT SCHOOL, JUST LIKE ME.
I'm not surprised they both got Rank 1, but I still congratulate them. "And Undyne and Alphy, they got Rank 1 too, right?"
OH YES, THEY DID. ALPHYS IS DOING SCHOOL FULL TIME AND UNDYNE IS WORKING FULL TIME. US RANK 1 MONSTERS HAVE A RESPONSIBILITY TO MAKE ENOUGH MONEY TO HELP ALONG THE LOWER RANK MONSTERS, BUT WE WANT ALPHYS TO FINISH SCHOOL AS SOON AS POSSIBLE, SINCE HER JOB WILL MAKE THE MOST MONEY IN THE END.
Hearing a guy like Papyrus talk about responsibility and the profitability of a job is bewildering. Maybe he's not a perpetual eleven-year-old after all.
I talk to him for a while longer and tell him we need to have lunch sometime. He agrees and I watch him leave.
"Wait!"
Papyrus turns.
"Will you… tell Sans I said hi? And… no hard feelings."
Papyrus seems happy that I've said this. I WILL TELL HIM PROMPTLY!
And he sprints in the direction opposite the one he was going previously. Embarrassed and worried he'll bring Sans back to where I'm standing, I flee the scene.
Twenty-one
The night of my twenty-first birthday, I go to the bars my friends want me to go to. And every weekend after that for several months. And then it starts to hit me that I'm almost done with college and even though my grades are really good, I don't have any idea what I'm doing with my life, and that thought alone is enough for me to need a drink… and my friends choose that dumbass weekend to be too busy studying to come out with me.
So I take advantage of being alone and end up at a Monster-owned bar. It opened up a year ago, as soon as Rank 1 Monsters were given the right to own businesses. Somewhere around the time they were denied Monster/Human marriage, like the government felt bad for saying no to that one and went here, you can't get married to the person you love, but you can own some shitty shop in the middle of the hood if you want.
I'm not even sure why I didn't come with my friends before now. They're all pretty pro-Monster. It's kind of a fad nowadays, to be honest, so they would've been fine with it.
But really, I know exactly why. It's just that Monster culture has been in my life longer than anyone else I know. I don't want to go with a bunch of fad-followers. This is more than half my life in the making. My mother's entire career has been used to create this world Monsters can now live in almost peacefully, and I don't want to have my friends hanging over my shoulder talking about how great it is when they don't even understand.
And yeah, I know I'm basically saying I liked Monsters before it was cool and that makes me the worst kind of hipster, but I don't even care in this case. This is important to me. Imma be a hipster about it whether people like it or not.
I walk into the place and find that the bartender is on fire. Not like he's doing some cool tricks with drinks or like he's doing great at beer pong. Like literally, he's a fire. I'm not abundantly surprised, but I definitely never met the guy at the Zoo that I used to spend time at, because I think I'd remember a humanoid flame sitting in one of the cages. I always knew there were many other Zoos I never saw, but it didn't occur to me until that moment that there's thousands of Monsters I have yet to meet and that I really want to get to know as many as I can.
I sit down at the bar and ask him for a Maker's Mark neat. He pours it for me wordlessly.
"whiskey, huh? i'm more a gin guy myself."
I'm surprised someone is talking to me at all, to be honest. I'm not around Monsters I don't know often enough to be sure if they're a talkative bunch, but after thirty years of internment, it feels like four years of semi-freedom shouldn't be enough for them to be buddy-buddy with humans.
Then again, Monsters always are surprisingly nice, even to people that don't deserve it.
So I turn to the guy and I'm just completely lost for words for a moment.
Apparently my mother is a better story teller than I ever gave her credit for, because the guy looks exactly like she described. The blue sweater, the black sweat pants, the slippers, the perpetual grin. I never thought I could know a guy I never met before on sight, but here I am, knowing for a fact I accidentally sat down beside Sans the Skeleton.
I know there's no point in starting the conversation with our non-existent past, since he doesn't even know who I am. So I don't bother.
I look ahead of me so I can quit staring.
Gin's fine, I say, but you can't drink it on its own like whiskey. I don't always want tonic.
"i drink it with ketchup, but to each their own."
I'm not even surprised by the statement, so I don't answer.
You come here often?
It sounds like a bad pick-up line, but I don't know what else to say.
"i mean, why wouldn't i? it's the hot place to be."
I snort out a laugh. Sans' famous puns. I spent years thinking I'd never hear one.
I'm glad I was wrong, because Jesus, that was bad, and I can respect telling that bad of a joke and saying it like it was awesome. That kind of confidence is magnetic.
"actually, i come here every day. so i gotta wonder what brings you here for the first time."
Always wanted to come. Never got a chance.
"well then welcome, daryn."
I look over to him again, blinking in confusion.
"you don't look that different, kid."
I give something kind of like a smile—I mean, I was already in a weird mood before I saw him, let alone now. I end up saying to the bottles behind the bartender, I wouldn't know if you look different.
"whoa there, paps said there're no hard feelings."
My smile widens a little bit and I put my face in my folded arms on the bar so maybe he won't catch it. That was two years ago. Maybe I changed my mind.
He definitely noticed, since his grin has somehow gotten broader. "doubt it."
We're both silent again, but it manages not to be awkward. The time when I used to picture him in my closet and fancy he was the only one that understood me, and conversely the time when I assumed he was the biggest jackass ever to walk the earth, seem far off now that I'm sitting by him in a bar, seeing him for real. He's just a dude. Nothing more, nothing less. I spent way too long overthinking it.
"you know, it's funny, kid, but the day that you left and never came back is the day that i was finally going to come out and say something to you."
I look over again. Sounds like my luck.
He chuckles quietly before explaining, "i figured you stopped caring since you stopped asking where i was, but then you said something that day and i realized that i mighta been hurting your feelings. i felt kind of bad, and i was telling myself to just go out there and say something… and then you yelled at me and ran off."
Yikes. That sounds even worse out loud than it did in my head. I'm quiet when I say, Well, I was a kid. I was an idiot.
It's silent for another moment before Sans says, "so was i."
We look at each other for a long moment, and somehow I feel like, after all this time, I understand him. I don't even know what I've finally learned, but looking into those little white specks of eyes, I'm glad I ran into him.
I think I can learn to like him.
Twenty-three
Nobody asks me to put my income into the pool for lower rank Monsters, even though Dad figures I started doing it because I felt pressured. I explain to him every time it comes up that caring about Monsters is in my blood.
Mom always likes that answer.
It's not like I have a ton of extra cash. I'm working a bunch of part time jobs just to pay my way through law school, let alone give anything extra to Monsters. But to me it's a no-brainer. My life is committed to helping them—I plan to work in defense of Monsters when I get out of school anyway. Might as well start helping before that time comes.
The building I live in is all Monsters except for me. Many of them are Monsters that I knew when I was a little kid, so it's weird to me that I'm now helping pay the rent of more than half of the building.
Both Rank 1 and Rank 2 Monsters can now have jobs, but it still isn't enough. It's never enough. Every step forward is just that—a step. Monsters always need more help.
Not to mention every bit of progression turns into more prejudice and fear in some cases, so sometimes a step forward comes with several steps back.
It's frustrating to say the least.
My floor consists of four apartments. Undyne and Alphys are next door to me. Burgerpants and Nice Cream Guy are across from me. Sans and Papyrus are kitty corner.
It's a pretty good setup. I get piano music at midnight, an unnecessary amount of magical ice cream, and incidental trombone music.
Though to be honest more often than not, Sans, Papyrus, and I are over with Alphy and Undyne. Toriel and Frisk come to visit from across town occasionally, but they're both busy being ambassadors to Monsters and all that. Frisk was working with my mom from the start, though I didn't meet them until I moved into this building.
Sans and Toriel are really close. I don't know why that bothers me as much as it does. I try to ignore it because I have no right to care.
Mettaton has started visiting more often, and he always seems to want to see Papyrus. I'm starting to wonder if something's going on there too.
Everyone's going to be coupled off at this rate, and then I'll be alone. Maybe I can get with Frisk. I mean, they're a little older than me, but whatever, so are all the Monsters.
Not that I've ever considered dating a Monster.
Well.
I'm not against it or anything, but…
But nothing. What the hell am I talking about? I'm going insane.
"hey, kid, you seem like you're thinking way too hard. you alright?"
I'm hyperaware of his hand on my shoulder and I feel my face heating up. Oh, yeah, I'm fine.
"you must be thinking about me." He winks, and I feel myself get even hotter as I look away.
I realize too late that he's kidding. I glance back at him and he looks surprised. Confused.
Damn it, way to be awkward as hell. Sans is, well, Sans. I can't possibly—I mean he's—but—
I don't say anything.
He doesn't say anything.
The topic goes stagnant.
Twenty-five
Sans looks completely idiotic in his Christmas sweater.
And what I mean by that is that he looks so cute I could die.
It's not actually Christmas yet. He's not supposed to wear the sweater yet—Papyrus would kill him for wearing it at all, let alone to Grillby's.
But Sans dared me to wear an ugly Christmas sweater to Grillby's and I told him I'd only do it if he did it with me.
And he did.
It's a thing of ours to go out drinking without the others. Papyrus, Undyne, and even Alphys are completely over the top all the time. Sans and I, we're a little more low-key. Sometimes we want some peace and quiet. I drink my bourbon, he drinks his gin and ketchup, and we just chat. It's a good system. It's come to be what I look forward to most in the week, followed closely by every other time I see Sans.
Okay, so yes, I have a thing for him. In my own head I can admit it. I think Sans knows it too, and has for a long time, but it's probably weird for him. I mean, who knows how old he is. I'm just a kid in his eyes.
My crush was doomed before it began.
Sans is drinking more than he usually does, and I have a tendency to match whoever I'm with drink for drink, so I'm drunker than I've been in years. I know I'll regret it—I used to be able to drink heavily, but a couple years back I started getting heartburn and I had to slow down. Who knew you start getting old so damn fast?
Plus, Sans doesn't get heartburn, seeing as he doesn't have any organs. How fucking unfair is that?
I know something must be wrong for Sans to be drinking this much, but I'm afraid to actually ask. Maybe he just wants to sit with someone and if I ask him what's bothering him, he'll shut me out.
I decide to just chat with him about meaningless shit and continue to let him pace me.
His mood improves and he stops sounding so down about his topics. I've finally distracted him.
And then finally he says something I never thought he would.
"daryn, i gotta tell you something."
Alright.
"you know when you were little and you were convinced i was sometimes in your closet?"
I stare at him wordlessly. I never told him about that. What, can he read minds and I never knew?
"well… i really did hang out in your closet sometimes."
I still have nothing to say. Maybe I'm just too drunk to process it.
So he continues, "not all the time. but sometimes i just had to get out of those damn cages, so at night i'd be in your room. i could've visited your mom and actually talked to someone, but she believed i really stayed in there all the time out of some kind of nobility. she always had more faith in me than she should. i'm not a hero. i'm just a guy trying to do right by the people i love. but i got bored. lonely. and so you'd sit in front of that closet door and you'd just talk to me, and i liked to listen. i didn't stop going until the day you yelled at me. i didn't think i deserved to find comfort in you after hurting you like that. but now, here you are. and you talk to me just like you did when you were five. you still have faith in me like you did twenty years ago, even now that you know so many of my flaws. and that's nice. to feel like i'm enough. it really is."
Sans has never talked this much at once before. He's drunk, and that's part of it, but these words aren't for just anyone, they're for me. And that means more than I know how to translate without making it weird, so I don't really say anything. I make a tasteless joke about creeping on children and he cracks up and says this is why he likes me.
I glow at the praise and I know I am way too into this guy that most likely will never see me the same way.
Closing time rolls around and Sans and I help each other out of our seats, draping over one another as we make our way outside. I like the way his touches seem to linger even though I know I'm imagining it.
And then, I realize I'm maybe not imagining it, because before I know it, Sans has me crowded against the brick wall outside and he's kissing me.
I'm immediately overwhelmed by it. I never thought—I never dreamed—
I don't even know how to describe it, not in any physical way. But my body is humming—it's singing—and all it's saying that I can coherently understand is:
Home.
I'm home.
Too soon, he pulls away.
"shit. kid, i'm sorry. i'm drunk. that—wow. kid… i…"
The fact that he's apologizing isn't what bothers me. The fact that he's saying he only did it because he's drunk isn't what bothers me.
Kid.
That's what bothers me.
He always calls me kid, but here, now, with his scent on my sweater and his taste on my tongue, it's different.
I always assumed he thought I was just some child, but I never had it proven in such a tangible way. I think I always figured I might eventually woo him. I mean, it could happen, right?
But no. Maybe it can't.
Hey, don't worry about it, I say gruffly, feeling distinctly sober suddenly. Let's get home.
I'm not upset with him or angry at my circumstances. Unrequited affection is not new to me, and I don't blame myself or Sans for me not being his type. I know that I'm important to him, even if it's not in the same way that he's important to me, and of course that's enough.
But I'd be lying if I said I'm not a little bummed.
Thirty
It's not like I don't stay with any of these guys because they're bad guys. I mean, they're fine. Obviously they're fine or I wouldn't go out with them.
But they always ask me out, I always say yes nonchalantly, and I'm always the one that ends it after one date.
But then one guy dumps me, and what he says to me changes everything.
It was a fun night, he tells me, but… to be honest… I know what it looks like when someone is looking at me but picturing someone else. And I'm way too old to try to win over someone who's already been won. I'm sorry, Daryn.
I spend the next day telling myself the guy is completely wrong and that I'm not won or picturing other people or anything like that. I mean, come on, it's been years since that kiss. No sane person is thinking about one damn kiss five years later.
But then I guess that means I'm not sane.
Because it's been five years and I'm still thinking about that kiss.
Before I know it, I'm at Sans' door. I'm here now because I know Papyrus is at work.
Sans answers with a grin like he's never been happier to see anyone. "hey, kid—"
Why did you kiss me?
His smile turns uncomfortable and his pupils go huge, glowing with something like fear. "uh… wow. um. wanna come in?"
No, I want you to answer. Why did you kiss me?
His eyes are shifting restlessly around, focusing on anything but me. "i… i mean…"
He's taking too long and I'm frustrated. I mean, come on, if you were lonely and that's why you wanted to go out that night, you could've kissed anyone. You could've kissed Toriel. She would've let you. Even Frisk, I know you care about them. For fuck's sake, I bet Grillby would kiss you! But instead it was me, the punk ass kid. I want to know why.
Now he looks confused. "i never thought of you as a punk ass kid."
That's not the point! Just answer the question!
"why in hell does it matter all of a sudden?"
Because I've been trying to date for years now but it never works out because I can't stop wishing I was on a date with you instead!
Oh god, I just said that. Yup. That just came out of my mouth and I can't unsay it.
I've never seen Sans look so shocked and were I not petrified of my own fat mouth, I would think the expression is kind of endearing.
And were I not furiously deciding how to fix this huge mistake I've made, I might have noticed the way his face changes when he says, "on a date with… me?"
I'm too busy freaking out to reply. What do I do, what do I do, what do I—
Sans tugs me forward by my collar and kisses me, hard and desperate and god, just fucking perfect. I find my arms winding around him immediately as he presses me into the wall all over again, right there in the hallway like I'm still twenty-five and drunk outside of Grillby's.
He backs away. "i thought… i mean, i've known you since you were little. i thought feeling like this about you was weird."
You didn't even talk to me. I don't think it counts.
After a moment, he grins widely at me. "i like the way you think."
And he kisses me again and all my brain can process is that I hope it never stops.
Thirty-five
Things with Sans and I don't really change all that much after that, but they change enough.
Sans starts to open up to me. I always knew things in the Underground were a lot more complicated than anyone let on, but Sans has knowledge outside the realm of even the average Monster and I now understand why he sometimes drinks himself into a stupor.
Though I like to think he does it less now that we're together.
We spend more time alone than we used to, of course, but we still like spending time with the group. We all live on the same floor, after all.
My dad always told me that this was going to be a phase. That I'd always care about Monsters, but that I wouldn't want to live in a decrepit building with a bunch of them for the rest of my life.
But that desire hasn't yet gone away. I'm starting to make a good amount now that I'm working towards partner at the law firm at which I work and I still never really wanted a nicer place. My extra money goes to Monsters that are impoverished, and my extra time is spent with my friends. I don't spend much money on myself.
Money isn't what matters to me.
So when Sans starts asking me how attached I am to my apartment, I'm confused. He knows my priorities by now.
I mean, it's not the apartment I'm attached to. It's the company.
"alright, good, then we should get you moving."
Moving? I don't understand.
"well, the thing is, paps is always with mettaton now and my apartment gets awful bonely. so i figured you could just move in with me."
I shouldn't be surprised that Sans is bringing up something so important in such a casual way.
He's asking me to move in and he's turning it into a pun.
God, I love him.
I decide to match his nonchalance. Oh, well in that case, I better get moving right now.
"yup. you and undyne can do the lifting and i can be moral support."
I roll my eyes.
Sans the Skeleton never changes.
Forty
Sans cares about the news more than he used to. I think it's mostly because Monster rights are changing more and more frequently and the best way to stay ahead of the new updates is to keep the news on a lot.
So when we aren't watching stupid movies or old comedians, we're watching the news.
I'm starting to fall asleep because I was up all night reading up on a case and I'm dead tired. My head has already fallen onto Sans' shoulder and I don't really care enough to move into a more comfortable position.
Then I hear it.
Monster/Human marriage has been legalized.
My eyes snap open, but I don't move.
I know that marriage has been a hot button topic lately, but I don't follow it much. Sans and I don't care about getting married. We've been dating ten years and the idea of marriage hasn't really even come up. It's not important to us.
I think my mom will want us to get married now, just because she's so happy it's even possible for us. And mom is nowhere near senile at sixty-five, but I do think about what she wants from time to time, and I know she would love to see me get married, especially to a Monster that's so close to her heart.
I keep it in the back of my mind, but only vaguely, and Sans and I don't comment on the verdict.
Fifty
I'm not exactly sure why Undyne and Alphys wait so long before they get married. They've been together since before I was born, and I'm over the hill. At this point, it only makes sense to get married.
But then again, marriage wasn't a part of the culture for Monsters in the Underground the way it is for humans. It probably just didn't matter to them, like it never mattered to Sans and I or even Papyrus and Mettaton, the divas extraordinaire.
But eventually, Alphys' desire to wear a nice dress and get some attention wins out. Or maybe they just want the legal rights of a married couple, I'm not entirely sure, but the point is it happens and both Sans and I are in the wedding and it's a good day.
We watch all of the people Alphys and Undyne love congratulate them and it's nice to watch.
But the part I find myself fascinated with is the ceremony itself. The moment when the two are looking at each other like nobody else exists, in a way I've never seen them look at each other.
And I wonder suddenly if weddings aren't so unimportant to me after all.
Sixty
Aging feels different when you do it alongside Monsters. By human standards, I'm an old man, but by Monster standards, my age means nothing. The white at my temples doesn't cause Sans strife, nor the wrinkles fanning out from the corners of my eyes.
"laugh lines," he says. "they're my favorite kind of line."
He also is sure to mention that, as a skeleton, he looks about a hundred years older than I do.
It kind of makes me feel better, to be honest.
So when Sans asks me to marry him, I don't have the moment where I think that I'm too damn old for this kind of crap like someone else might.
I realize that I'm ready for that.
I don't need the crowd. I don't need the party, or the clothes, or the cake.
There's just something about that moment that I remember Alphys and Undyne having so clearly and I know I need to have it with Sans. It's important to me.
Sans knows as much. It's why he asked at all.
Sans always knows.
We get married in Vegas, which sounds stupid, but it's a lot of fun. Only my mother comes, and I'm glad I make time to do it while she's still with me, because she looks so incredibly happy that day. Happier than she's been since Dad passed.
Everyone else that sees me and knows what I've just done looks at me like I'm a crazy old man and I let them believe it's true.
Because maybe, to a point, they're right.
Being this in love and being crazy are almost synonymous.
Eighty
It takes a long time for Sans to convince me to retire. I hate the idea that my friends can keep working the same job, can keep doing all the same things, and I'm just getting too old to have that.
I've never felt age like I do now.
I'm not hugely affected by the years. I live a healthy lifestyle, so I'm still active in my old age. I make a hobby out of triathlons and Sans teleports in every so often to cheer me on and people think I'm just a lunatic old man laughing at empty air, and part of the fun of age is everyone thinking I'm crazy and being able to do or say anything I want without getting grief for it.
I'm not one of the unlucky ones that gets cancer or dementia, and for that I am constantly thankful.
But the simple fact that I am not the man I once was causes me strife.
Sans tries to convince me it doesn't matter.
But then I get to the point.
I'm going to die someday, Sans. And you'll still be here. I can't imagine you going on while I'm gone. I can't imagine missing all the things you'll do.
He looks at me like I'm so silly. After all these years, he's perfected that look.
"you won't have to imagine it. you'll be dead."
I don't think it's funny, and he knows I don't. So he says something else.
"daryn, it's a blessing to be able to live your life, understand that you've done it right, and then go to the next step. don't overthink it. just be."
Sans doesn't always get serious, but when he does, he's usually right.
One Hundred
Sans has a sense of foresight that I don't understand. Other Monsters never seemed to have it, so I don't really know why he always seems to know something is going to happen before it does.
But because I know him as well as I do, his psychic powers have turned into my own. I can always tell when he is sure something is about to happen. I know when it's good or when it's bad.
So when the feeling I get from him is nothing like I've ever felt before, I know what it means.
I'm going to die.
My hair is white fuzz and my hands are gnarled webs, but Sans doesn't care. He never cared. He takes my fingers in his and he just looks at me, and I don't understand how he can look so damn happy.
But then I realize that I'm smiling.
daryn, it's a blessing to be able to live your life, understand that you've done it right, and then go to the next step. don't overthink it. just be.
It's been twenty years since he said that to me. I've forgotten a million things since then. I don't remember my elementary school teachers, or what my first boyfriend's dog was named. I don't remember why I went to Grillby's for the first time or what day I decided to become a lawyer.
But I remember the moment when someone else's words started to resonate in my mind louder than my own. I remember when Sans and I went on vacation and we spent the whole time on a beach making puns about sand and palm trees. I remember the first time he looked at me and I realized that he was everything I ever wanted.
And I know word for word what Sans said to me the day that I first vocalized my fear that I would eventually have to leave him.
And now, today, I realize that he was right, as he always is. I've lived my life, and it was such a good one.
Because I was me, and because Sans was Sans, and because we were together through all of it.
There's a lot of things to consider. The simple fact that he will go on after I'm gone. Will that cause him pain? Will he learn to love someone else? I know I don't want him to have an empty spot in his heart for me, but I also know I never want him to forget.
But I don't think about any of that, because it means nothing. Worrying on things you can't change is futile, exhausting, unhelpful.
So instead I focus on the present moment. Here. Now. These seconds I have with Sans and Sans has with me, these moments I refuse to waste with idle worrying when instead I can appreciate what I have right in front of me.
I love you, I tell him.
"i love you too," he replies.
And there's nothing in these one hundred years of my life that could matter more than that.