He felt the snow crush under his sneakers. It felt strangely familiar to him. Even though he was in a very different place, it felt a little like home. New York City, the tallest city you could ever live in America. It felt fitting to him and his brother, with tall buildings, lots of jobs, fun events.
Sans walked across the small balcony. Snow crushed under every step. He took out a cigarette from his jacket pocket. "Finally," he said, not realizing he has said it aloud.
With a flick of a lighter, his cigarette was ablaze. He leaned his body weight into the railings to look down. He was on the 70th floor. What a wonderful floor number to be on. He and Papyrus liked to call this place home.
Sans was finally happy that he was free. Free from all the worries that the past has given him. Free from all of the experiments. Free from his father, although they may be stuck together for the rest of his life.
Sans stood up straight. He sighed at the thought he would never truly become free from his father and all of their workings. Strange enough as it sounds, Sans began to work a full-time job as a scientist. His love for science did not go away after moving to the surface. He was happy about that, more money the better the job.
He looked around, pulling his smoke from his jaw. However, he did not blow out the smoke. The smoke seemed to come out of his eye sockets and his jaw on its own. When in the street, every human around gave him a weird glare when that had happened. Sans was never sure the reason, though. It was normal for him. He is a skeleton, after all.
Putting the cigarette back into his jaw, he noticed something different in the air. It was not smoke. It was something else.
It was his magic. It was in the air floating like fog around his skull. He turned around, looking through the glass door. He saw his brother looking at him. Papyrus seemed to be smirking.
Papyrus, who was also fused with their father, knew that Sans had too much magic to contain his small body. Usually, it was shown with a thick layer of it surrounding his body, but since the change it has been burned with the smoke.
Sans looked at the yellow fused air in interest. He always thought it was curious to have to "burn" magic. Though, he's been able to show his skeletal body in public more often than not. He almost always had not had a shirt on. All he had on was a jacket and a pair of jeans. He knew some of the new human laws they had to go by, but not all of them. He had to find out all of them before he could do whatever he wanted. The last thing he wants is to be arrested in the human world.
Papyrus was cooking dinner. Steadily stirring the homemade pasta, he was smiling. His brother had finally accepted the change of place and scenery. Papyrus' turtleneck sweater was warming him. Papyrus turned around, once more.
Sans stood there. He did not notice Papyrus was looking at him, and instead looked out into the distance. The city was strangely still. Pretty much all the humans knew that the monsters came from the underground to have peaceful lives on the surface, but ignored the fact that they were human. Humane. Civilized. The only difference between humans and monsters was their forms and souls.
Sans suddenly felt a magical fire in his left eye. It hurt, but it always did. This time was worse than a lot of times, but it did not change his movements.
Pain. Harm. Terror. The three things only his father gave him before they fused. He wanted to escape from. He wanted to go as far away from his father as he could.
His cigarette dropped to the ground. It had been fully smoked. No point in a smoke with no smoke left in it. He turned around to see his brother putting the spaghetti he had just made onto a large plate.
Sans stepped into the cigarette and rubbed it on the ground of the balcony so that nothing would catch fire. Sans opened the glass door. With a large sigh of relief, he sat down. His brother smiling as he did so. They both smiled at each other.
This is how it was supposed to be.