Undertale Fic. Sans is the main character. Probably going to be M for violence if I write it out all the way but right now, T for language and dark themes. Mafiatale AU inspired by theslowesthnery's stuff on tumblr, only a different kind of fucked up.


Summery:

Sans has been out of the mob for nearly half a decade when Papyrus is taken captive, along with several other memembers of Asgore's "kingsmen" gang. The skeleton now has to decide, fall back into his old ways or strive to be better, all while trying to get his brother back in his life.


Sans shifted his vest, trying not to flinch at the glass pressing against his ribs. Smuggling was a business he was damn good at it, if only on the virtue that no one thought to pat down his insides; not that he would let them. He'd gotten used to humans and pat downs long ago. Occupational hazard. Of course he had a reputation as the best smuggler in the Greater Ebbot area but nothing the beat cops could ever stick him with. It's a good thing, too. Working hard to get a rep had been a pain in the tailbone, now that he had it buyers weren't too keen on shirking their deals.

There were, however, always a few numbskulls that thought they could pull one over on him. Cut his end and run. Just cause he was a monster. Humans, always arrogant, thinking just because most monsters get the short end when it comes to education that everyone's an idiot.

That was, in fact, his current issue.

The warehouse district down on the riverfront, not much going on if you don't know where to look. No witnesses. Just the way black market dealers liked it. Unfortunately that also meant he wasn't likely to get back up if things went south. Decent lighting was also difficult to come by, meaning standing in between the mostly shadowed buildings was the only option. The skeleton didn't technically need the light like humans did, he could still 'see' in total darkness even without his eyes lit, but light made his clients more comfortable and less likely to shoot at him.

Speaking of shooting, Sans glaced over the repertoire of current buyers. Three men, two with tommies and one with a briefcase were hanging back while he was stuck with another human, their boss most likely, trying to haggle. New gangs cropping up everywhere, he'd deal with all of them if they had the cash. His first mistake.

"look, pal," Sans cast his gaze into the barren street, searching for any hint of life in the shadowed alleyways, just in case, before returning his glowing pupils to the human. "i'm just an honest skeleton trying to make an not-so-honest livin', alright? so you either pay what we agreed on or you don't waist my time."

The man grit his teeth, the fake smile on his face dipped as he regarded Sans with contempt. "I don't think you understand the position you're in, monster."

"and i don't think you know who you are dealing with, human." Sans bit back with just as much venom, letting his eyes go out. "money for product. capitalism, pal. we all walk away happy," the skeleton forced his grin wider, the cigar between his canines audibly crunching from the pressure, "or just i will."

For the briefest moment the miniscule glow from the dingy streetlamp was overpowered by a brilliant blue flash, washing over the rain slicked pavement. For that briefest moment Sans felt like his old self again, younger, clever, less scared, and very, very powerful. The moment was over as fast as it had occurred leaving the humans startled and pale. They had felt it too, Sans could see it in the way their souls trembled, that's him, that's LOVE he had accumulated over the years.

Humans weren't totally insensitive to that kind of thing, it just took them a little longer to get the message. Fortunately it didn't seem like Sans would have to demonstrate. The lead human, with tremorous hand, beckoned over the one toting a briefcase. $550, in smaller bills like fives and tens per Sans request, rested within. The skeleton felt his grin grow more genuine. They at least had the good sense to bring the agreed amount.

With a flick of his wrist one of the bottles apparated into his hand. This wasn't the cheap kind of booze you'd get from a local distiller's basement; this was a Monster 1850's vintage of champagne. Not cheap in the least. The kind of liquid courage you reserved for yourself. They were paying for more than just one bottle of course, but that's where Sans put his magic to work. The crate he'd been holding above the warehouse gently dropped down next to the humans' automobile while Sans pulled the other two bottles out of his ribs. It was hard not to give a relieved sigh once the pressure on his spine was gone.

The humans seemed more than a little surprised, quickly putting together why Sans was so highly cited in his business. He was passed the briefcase and the humans made their way off, speeding down the road faster than strictly necessary with fifteen bottles of bravery in their back seat. Poor sods probably didn't know the difference between DT extract and what they just bought up. He chuckled and shook a head at the greenhorns' enthusiasm. It didn't suit humans.

That reminded Sans, Papyrus's birthday was coming up and he needed to get his brother something. Something nice hopefully. His cut of this deal was $275, quite a hefty sum as far as monsters were concerned. He used to make more but those days were long behind him. No more contract killing for this skeleton, no sir. Much too fragile now. One too many bullets clipping his ribs for that anymore.

Sans paced away from the warehouses back into downtown. He'd get a cab to the Ruins, a nearly unoccupied section of town torn up from gang wars, and walk to his apartment from there. His body could be on auto pilot once he slipped the briefcase into the in-between. While it was feasible to hop from the warehouses on the river's waterfront to his bedroom, it wasn't a short trip and he actually had things to do tonight. Couldn't just crash once at home. So traveling the old fashioned way, at least for most of the trip, would do him just fine.

Sans glanced at his watch, swearing quietly to himself. Did he have enough time for flowers? Should he even get flowers? What about his clothes? A plain button up, grey-blue suit vest, and black slacks weren't the best first impression. But first impressions didn't really matter when they'd been exchanging letters for years. How long had it been since he'd gotten one, much less since they had met in person? Not for five years at least. Did they really miss him? Him of all monsters? No, couldn't be. The lazy, hitman for hire was not someone to make friends with.

Sans staggered, just catching himself in time to keep his balance. Some poor guy with not nearly enough wit lay passed out drunk in the alley way. Sans had been so lost in his own skull he'd not noticed. He gave a quick glance at the surrounding shops to get his barrings. Maybe five or so minutes from Grillby's by the looks of it.

"ugh, i don't have time for this." Despite his protest Sans tapped the man awake with his foot. The human looked up at him, bloodshot bleary eyes widening in a gape at his smirking skull. "pal, i'd scram if i was ya… cops 'round here look for every excuse to beat somebody."

Surprisingly the drunk was coherent enough to nod, seeming more frightened by the skeleton than what Sans had been saying, and scrambled off in a hurry.

Sans shook his head, turning to be on his way again. Then deciding better of it and just shortcutting back to his neighborhood. He was close enough now that it wouldn't kill him to expend some extra energy for time. Most days he couldn't be damned to get anywhere on time, but not tonight. He couldn't afford not to care tonight.

He sauntered out of the side street by his apartment building, one of the few places in town that would rent to monsters, making a mental list of everything he'd need to bring. Some Temmies were milling about in front of the building, casting Sans wary glances, except for Bob who was waving. Sans' grin softened a bit and he nodded back, stamping out his cigar before walking in. Metalton didn't like it when people smoked inside the apartments, not that the showman was ever around to complain much.

"hey," he grunted to Napstablook as he passed. The poor ghost looked like he had a heart attack, jolting awkwardly at being engaged in conversation. His neighbor was quiet, very shy about his music. Which was a shame, the kid had talent.

"O-oh, hello Sans… sorry for not seeing you… oh, you must be mad, sorry. I'll just go so-"

"kid," Sans leaned against his door while rifling his pocket for the key, "I'm just saying hello, stop apologizing." He fixed Napstablook with a patient, soft-edged glare as the ghost slipped into his normal habits.

It took a moment for the musician to become comfortable but Sans was used to that. "Did you leave your key inside again?"

"heh. must've." Pinpricks of sweat dappled Sans brow. Good thing he'd taken a shortcut, seems like he'd need the extra time after all.

Napstablook just smiled shyly and drifted through the wall, unlocking Sans' door from the other side and swinging it open. "How do you manage to lock yourself out every day? Oh, sorry, that was rude."

"nah." Sans gave the apology a dismissive wave and Blooky a mischievous grin. "i deserved that, heh. well, see ya tomorrow, kid. don't stay up to late, okay?"

The ghost nodded as they traded places. The monsters bid each other farewells and good nights. Sans closed the door softly, his mind lingering on how empty his home was entirely unbidden. He worried for Papyrus. If his brother was doing well; if Asgore was holding up his end of the deal.

The skeleton chided himself and paced through the thin entry hall into his den. Paps would be fine, he's not a baby bones anymore, and to top it all off has a killer left hook, more thanks to him than Undyne. He didn't need to worry about his brother, the younger skeleton was even stronger than he'd been at Paps' age. "though i at least had the blasters as a fall back…"

Sans shook the doubt from his skull and walked briskly into his room. The faded sky-blue walls were a nice reminder of where he was. Home, getting ready for a good time with an old friend. In between his tripping over a drunk human and opening up his closet to find something decent, Sans had decided that they were indeed friends. No one else shared his sense of humor after all. Now that he was out of the old 'jobs, drinks, and drugs' self fulfilling prophesy of his youth Sans could get behind the old lady's philosophy, bitterly wishing he'd listened to her sooner.

The musing didn't stop the sour taste in his mouth when he spotted an old rusty-red three piece he used to wear. It didn't suit him anymore, that old uniform. It still smelled of dust and iron no matter how many times it was cleaned. That wasn't something that just water could wash away. Ever.

Sans clenched and unclenched his fists, pushing the offending article aside in favor of a black button up and some nicer pants. There was a off-blue vest and matching tie to go with it and the skeleton plucked one of his better pairs of suspenders from a designated drawer. He picked a pair of simple white cufflinks. His dressier black and white loafers were the obvious choice of footwear.

With his clothes handled, Sans took a quick brush to his teeth, just to make sure he didn't miss anything in way of food from his lunch. It was a nervous habit for him, checking his teeth. Like that one human who runs fingers or a comb through their hair. Teeth were the only features a skeleton could be vain about that made sense to others. Things like fretting over ribs weren't as understandable but Sans could only think of the comparison as a waistline on human. Though fortunately this one vanity he allowed himself could be intimidating when played right. It helped to have bite strength like a crocodile.

His preening done, Sans fixed his outfit once more, scooped up his trenchcoat, a nice navy one with a custom cut to fit his shoulders, a fedora, and his keys, heading out into the chilled fall night. Bob, blessed little creature that he was, waved Sans farewell as he passed. Temmies used to be friendlier, but that was before he'd switched carries. Now he was in supposed competition with them, though he could never figure quite how the Tem Shop owner fenced everything he'd brought in for her. He'd have to remember to get her and Bob something for Christmas soon or he'd never do it.

Sans hailed a taxi, climbed in, and was pleasantly surprised to see a monster he didn't recognize. Someone who wouldn't look at him narrowly or ask if they'd met before. Just what he needed really. "spider cafe on twelfth." His voice had a bounce that he didn't need to force this time.

"Muffet's place?"

"yeah."

The driver gave a nervous chuckle and Sans coked a browbone. "Okay then."

"owe 'er money, kid?"

"N-no." The driver balked at the idea of being that unfortunate before his somber expression resurfaced. "You really haven't heard? About what's going on in that part of town?"

"i make it my business not to know that. keep my volmer out of other people's and they leave me well enough alone." When the driver gave him a funny look Sans tapped the thin bone separating what would be his nasal cavities if he'd a nose. "anatomy humor, kid."

"Oh, haha. I get it. About staying out of things, I mean. Though, you might want to rethink going into that neighborhood. The Kingsmen expanded their territory and the humans that used to run the block don't like it too much. There's been three stabbing incidents in the past two days."

"yikes," Sans leaned back into the upholstery. "i'm just meeting a friend, getting some spider cider, and heading out again. hopefully i won't run into the wrong sort." His grin was a little more forced than when he'd left but hey, new faces, new places. Make the most of this. "don't get me wrong, pal. it's knife to meet new people but i didn't plan on cutting my visit short."

The driver groan. "You're one of those?"

"what, not tickling your funny bone?"

He barked a laugh at the taximan's grimace just as they pulled up to the street corner. "I'm not driving into the middle of that if I can help it." Any jovial airs were gone in an instant of flashes.

Sans nodded, the percussion of gunfire dampening his mood into the ground. "how much do i owe you for the ride." The skeleton paid off the cab and stepped out, keeping out of the fray by a good twenty foot birth. That should be enough that stray bullets wouldn't be dusting him any time soon.

Fortune was on his side today, as Muffet's was between him and the mobsters trying to murder each other. He ducked inside and glanced around the nearly empty shop. Most patrons were as far back from the street as possible, or taking cover under tables. Muffet herself was whispering hurried instructions to a large spider-like creature, her pet, before turning to face Sans. "Oh, hello deerie. Didn't think we'd ever see you in this part of town again." Her voice was cheery enough, though strained.

"didn't think i'd ever have a reason to come back. just meeting with an old lady, i'll have the cider."

Muffet smiled at him, the knowing kind that he really couldn't stand and busied herself about the drink. He leaned against the counter, searching the panicked or irritated faces more intently. He could sort out the veterans of hardship from those who'd never had much of it. The gunfire didn't bother him so much as it had when he was a greenhorn. In a game of who's who, it'd be easy enough to pick out which gangs each monster belonged to, unsurprising that the boldest were counted amongst the Kingsmen. There were a few from smaller splinters that didn't seem quite as agitated until sirens wailed in the distance.

Sans dropped into a nearby booth when Muffet handed him the drink. His gaze seeking out a particular face. The shop door chimed open, hushed whispered passed through the cafe and Muffet brought out a table cover with strategically placed dishes and half eaten pastries. Monster of the Kingsmen gang slid into the chairs, each taking on a mannerism as if they'd been sitting their for a good while. He found himself grinning. They kept using his idea, hu? "not sure wether to be proud or offended," the skeleton mumbled to himself just as a large white monster sat regally in the booth across from him.

"Proud, I suspect. How have you been, Sans?"

"nice to see you too, tori." Sans let his gaze drift off the mobsters' table onto his 'new' acquaintance. "ya know this is our 'first meeting', right?"

The goat monster flushed slightly with an embarrassed smile.

"take that as a yes then." He lifted his glass to her just as two police officers threw open the door. One spotted Sans and deigned to sneer at him. He waved back with a sardonic snort.

"Friends of yours?" Toriel murmured into her tea, a cup he'd not noticed before. Most likely taken from the mobster's table.

"define, friend."

"I see." Her response was measured, caution permeating her tone as she gazed at the humans. The monsters remained like that, eyes on cops while they tried, and failed, to get something on the incident. Nice to see them frustrated with out having a gun pointed at him this go 'round. They stormed out in due time.

"you asked me how i am, could be better, could be much worse."

"Your HP?"

"still one."

Toriel noded, considering her paws for a moment. "I could always-"

"tori." She met his eyes with no small amount of hesitance. "you've got to let it go. this isn't your fault. I did some shit and now i'm paying for it. end of story."

"I know you think you deserve this Sans, but-"

"i don't 'think' tori, i know." The lights in Sans eyes had gone out, his gaze tracing faded nicks and old divots in his metacarpals before clearing a non-existent throat. "how's paps?"

"Oh, Papyrus is grand," her glowing smile flitting back onto her muzzle. She gushed over his brother for a solid five minutes, and could have gone on had she not realized her out of character rambling. Sans thought it was just her mothering nature matching up with Paps' exuberant and almost child-like personality. He wondered if that had changed, briefly dropping his grin a bit. "Worried?"

She really did pick up on everything didn't she? "yeah." Sans shrugged, pulling off his jacket, even though he didn't feel the heat. Might as well settle in if this conversation was as long as he'd hoped. "asgore still keeping his end?"

Toriel's smile faltered. Sans didn't like the guilty feel from her eyes darting away. "Yes and no." The goat monster flinched at the scratch of Sans fingers against the table. Her gaze drawn to the unconsciously clenched fist. "Asgore is not letting him fight on the front lines, but…"

"he's not just the getaway driver, ain't he."

"I'm afraid so." Her paw moved over his battle worn fingers, face tinged with a deep sorrow that Sans hadn't expected from her. "You know how much he hates hurting others. Please don't worry about that, Sans. We are his friends and we want Papyrus to be happy."

Feeling a little less murderous, Sans let the warmth of Toriel's fur sink into his bones. "yeah. i know. not gonna stop worrying though, it's my job."

"Sans…"

"oh yeah." The skeleton motions like he's reaching into his pocket, but is really just pulling some change from the in-between. "give this to alph for me. tell 'er the rest is coming soon, once i find a safer way to move it." He muttered the last part under his breath, briefly swearing mentally at the cops, busting one of his stashes. Last time he trusts anyone else to run courier jobs for him.

"Are you leaving already?"

The hurt in her tone makes Sans freeze up for a second. His mind leapt back to the first time she had said that, bloodstained bones, a cracked eye socket, singed suites, the darkness. He shuddered. "yeah. sorry to disappoint, tori. guess we didn't tell any jokes tonight, hu? when was the last time that happened?" Sans wasn't waiting for an answer, scooping up his jacket, adjusting his hat, and dropping the coins for his cider on the counter.

He stopped at the door. Held in place just as Toriel solemnly replied, "It's never happened before." Sans gives one last look at the 'Monster Queen', brow dipping up and regret eating into his ribs.

He pushes the door open and walks briskly into the chilly night air. He needed a stiff drink, preferably from Grillby's.