Let me just state a few things now before the FanFiction Vigilantes(TM) come along to rip me a new one:
YES, in this particular one-shot, Frisk is a CHILD/PRETEEN.
YES, in this particular one-shot, Sans is a YOUNG ADULT.
Does he have romantic feelings for them? No, not at the time this drabble takes place.
Is Frisk put into any sort of questionable and/or potentially harmful situations as a result of the Frans ship?
No, no they are not.
The environment that this one-shot takes place does not have an established relationship between these two characters yet, though it does hint at there previously being one in a previous timeline. Further explanation will be added in the bottom notes.
Thanks for reading!
Have you even met someone, passed a random face in the street, and then out of nowhere, you're struck with the overwhelming feeling that you've seen them somewhere before? A sort of déjà vu, giving you the sense that you've already met them? Even if there's no possible way for it to be true, the sense of familiarity can't be shaken off or ignored, try as you might.
Yeah. Sans knew that feeling pretty well. You could practically call them old friends, by now.
Like most mornings, he was on duty in Snowdin Forest, standing attention at his sentry station deep within the towering pines.
Well, technically, he had been wandering toward the sealed doors for his daily dose of humor with the lady dwelling behind them. All day he had been trying to escape a creeping sensation that he had already walked this path a long, long time ago, despite having just left his home in Snowdin Town no more than fifteen minutes before. It was unsettling, to say the least. The sense that he had been knocked back days, weeks, maybe even years, despite the fact that it was an impossibility. He'd woken up an untold amount of days ago, feeling so very out of place. It felt wrong of him to be back in Snowdin (but how did that make any sense, Sans had never left the town in the first place, he'd lived there all of his life, so it didn't make sense to be coming "back" to it, not in that way).
The skeleton-monster had been hoping to escape his silly woes with a couple hours' worth of cheesy (read: hilarious) knock-knock jokes. It had been a while since he'd last had a chance to visit her – a week, at least. Papyrus and Undyne both had been hounding him for his lackadaisical mannerisms when on the job. Undyne had been sure to give him plenty of extra assignments the past few days; "To make sure you don't get bored," she had teased with a sharp (but intimidating) grin.
Rather than risk being let go from his most prominent source of income, Sans had actually put some effort into said tasks, which proved to appease his Captain for the foreseeable future. She'd stopped checking in with him every couple of hours to make sure he was being productive, at the very least. Which worked out great, because now it gave him the opportunity to slack off some more.
That day, however, when Sans knocked on the stone doors, he had not received an answer. A little odd, he thought, considering the lady had not once failed to answer his call, but then again, he hadn't exactly been present the past few days. Maybe she would show up later in the day?
With that logic in mind, the skeleton meandered over to the side of the path, absently waving at a bush by his side (as if someone were able to see him! Silly, right?). He plopped down into the softest snow poff he could find, while being near enough to be in earshot of any inquisitive knocks. It wasn't long until Sans fell into a half-doze, letting the snow support his bones like a chillow (heh, because it's a chilly pillow, get it?). The soft, feathery sounds of snowflakes landing on the ground by his skull was soothing.
Sleep didn't take long to claim him – but it was light. The kind of sleep that was easy to rouse a monster from. Not much time had passed before something broke the silence – an hour, at most. A gritty sort of noise, like stone scraping against stone. It made Sans jolt upright, disturbing a fine layer of powder that had accumulated over his body. Oh, stars, was. . . was she coming out? But she had never come out before – never! Why would she be leaving the Ruins? Would she run back inside if she saw him sitting there, watching her? Or. . . what if. . . ?
Both possibilities seemed equally improbable; Sans didn't want to risk it, either way. With the blink of an eye-socket, and a spark of blue magic, the skeleton had vanished from his snooze-poff, and found himself poised behind the trunk of a pine several trees into the forest line. It was a vantage point that kept him well enough out of sight to the unwary eye, but angled where he was still able to spy on the entryway.
Lo and behold, one door was slightly ajar. Anticipation roiled in his chest, eye-lights small as the heads of needles. Someone was coming outside!
A small, shivering hand clasped around the worn stone, fingers curling anxiously inward. The skin tone of this creature was decidedly bronzed, and Sans was intrigued. He had been expecting to feel some sort of magical energy in the air, something to tip him off that this was, in fact, the lady he had been sharing his mornings with. But, instead, as a small, raggedy head peered out into the frosty air, he was overcome with a sense of. . . he couldn't quite explain it.
It was the feeling of seeing a beloved person again, after years of separation.
His SOUL flared with a slew of emotions – dread, shock, intrigue, confusion, delight, excitement, betrayal, loss, heartache, and longing. It knocked Sans short of breath, as this undeniably human creature began to edge their way into the snow.
It was something he could not quite explain, feeling as if he had seen this kid before – they had to be a young human, they were too small to be anything else, though there was something in his subconscious. An image of them, with poofy, brunette hair styled into neat pixie layers; that bronze skin, freckled by genetics and years of sun-damage; large, squinted eyes open wide in a mature, rounded almond shape; striped sweaters morphing into crisp business suits, casual sweatpants, breezy blouses and t-shirts, and warm, lazy pullover hoodies. He imagined their face, smiling with delight; creased with a displeased frown, lips puckering in an adorable pout; brows furrowed to match their annoyed scowl; one risen above the other in a coy glance, smirk playing at their lips; cheeks flushed deep red while the fires of passion lit their soulful gaze. Eyes wide, unbelieving, filled with shock and horror and an unbelievable depth of sorrow, glassy tears tracing the adult curves of their cheekbones. Lips mouthing a phrase he had long since lost the ability to read.
It felt as if half a lifetime had passed when Sans came back to reality, rubbing his eye-sockets with dazed, mitten-clad hands. One came down to fist at the fabric of his jacket, resting over his SOUL as it writhed with unimaginable happiness and unfathomable sorrow, all at once. Light-pupils, large and dreamy, tracked farther up the snow-driven path, to where the human was now disappearing from sight.
Sans knew this human. . . and yet. . .
He had never seen them before in his life.
. . . Right?
A flash of magic, and Sans materialized several meters up, slippers crunching the snow as he absently paced after them. The unexpected noise seemed to startle the human, and they whipped around just as Sans vanished in another wave of power. He hid, enamored, dazed, as they hesitated a few more moments, before turning around, and continuing their stride. Damn it, why was he being so careless?
get a hold a' yourself, bonehead! they're a human! they're dangerous!
Something about their cold-flushed cheeks made the skeleton want to swoon – it was positively adorable! Maybe even. . . familiar? It was wrong.
If there was one thing Sans did not do, it was swoon.
Yet something deep inside of his ribcage whispered, hinting at the exact opposite. Don't worry, it said, they're harmless like this.
"like this"?
Since when had he seen anything about this human to know any different?
Sans found himself moving again, being drawn towards them. An earsplitting CRACK! broke (heh) the quietness, as a fairly sturdy-looking tree branch was effortlessly snapped in two beneath his foot. Sans barely had enough time to duck through another shortcut as the human spun 'round like a top, and scampered toward the broken stick to investigate. Now poised on the opposite end of the trail, several meters ahead of them, the skeleton held his breath long enough for them to, once again, lose interest in his screw-up, and head toward the waiting bridge (thank the stars for his lack of lungs, anyone else probably would have passed out by now). He observed them, silently, expression holding a sense of wide-eyed wonder. The vision of them, only more matured, popped back to the forefront of his mind. His face was beginning to tingle with a warm sort of magic.
The human examined the large, wooden bars suspended at the bridge's front. They smiled, seeming to appreciate and admire Papyrus' handiwork, despite the obvious fact that the bars were too far apart to stop anyone smaller than Greater Dog. An approving grin began to spread over Sans' face as he absently flexed his fingers over the miniature whoopee cushion strapped against his left palm, hidden by a mitten.
When he strode forward, it was at a calm, lazy pace – although, for the kid, it might have seemed a little menacing. The smaller the distance between him and the human, the warmer his chest began to feel, until it was a low, pleasant thrum that spread to each and every bone in his body. He extended his hand, taking in a breath to speak, when the child suddenly turned, and slapped their hand right up against against his own. Like they had been expecting it. The whoopee cushion let out a long, rather rude noise. The kid was grinning like a- - well, like a him.
"heheh, the good ol' whoopee-cushion-in-the-hand-trick. works every time. but," he cheered, sheepishly scratching a cheekbone with his free hand. "i guess you've already head of that one, huh, kid?"
The child merely smiled at him for a few more moments, releasing a happy sigh, and Sans' smile widened a little more. He felt that odd warmth intensify, as a faint blush began to make itself known at his cheeks. The kid was still holding his hand. It felt right.
"Hi, Sans," they murmured with a sense of intimacy that should have unnerved him (keywords being should have).
"heh. don't remember tellin' you my name, kiddo. have we met before?"
The child, curiously enough, just smiled, and shook their head. "Nope."
Sans chuckled. "makes sense." He shook their hand, which had still yet to leave his own. "i'm sans. sans the skeleton. you're a human, right?" They nodded, giggling, and he beamed. As if this were another one of his jokes. Pretending you've never met a person before was always a good gag, in his opinion! "that's hilarious."
The human's pleasant smile never seemed to fade. Their content expression had peace blossoming forth from his very core. The human greeted him, a total stranger, with a peculiar phrase:
"It's good to see you again, Sans."
It didn't seem to phase him in the slightest. A thought popped into his skull, seemingly from out of nowhere. "nice to see you, too. . . frisk."
Frisk's face seemed to glow in response, and Sans had the oddest feeling of coming home.
So in case anyone is confused about the idea here, the basic concept is Sans is going about his usual routine after the events of a (potentially "True") RESET. In this previous timeline, he and Frisk (as an adult) are in a romantic relationship, but for whatever reason, something goes screwy in this timeline many years after monsters return to the Surface that wasn't meant to happen, resulting in some heartbreaking outcomes that leads Frisk resetting the timeline.
Sans doesn't remember anything from the previous one, but, upon seeing Frisk, his subconscious remembers them as being a very important person in his life, someone who was very near and dear to his heart; he's been reunited with his loved one, hence the "feeling of coming home".
Sorry if that wasn't super clear in the story, I'm a little rusty. Personally, I'm actually kinda impartial towards this ship, but I took on the prompts as a way to challenge/get myself back into writing a little bit. We'll see how well that goes.