Sans: The Legendary Trash Dad-Chapter 3
Sans wasn't exactly in a forest, thinking so would have been generous. Instead he was hidden in a thin patchwork of trees. The residential area of Snowdin seen at the end, so Sans discreetly melted into the town. The chill in his bones demanded he would make his way home, but he didn't want to risk running into the dog pack, or the Boss-Papyrus. He wasn't exactly in the mood to be yelled at, or to explain his soggy and trashed disposition.
And of course, explaining the kid. Sans's sockets widened with pity as he regarded the baby bones curled up around his fist—thankfully it was moving, rattling its bones from the chill, so it wasn't dead. Good enough, Sans placed the maggot in his right front pocket, leaving his hand in to make sure the kid stayed quiet and a tiny bit warm as he gentle charged his magic.
Instead of his house, Sans went to the next best thing: Grillby's. The place was warm, a feeling Sans would never take for granted again. He spied an empty booth in the corner and was tempted to flop onto one for a nap—but he could never do that, it would have been suspicious, so Sans made his way to his usual spot at the bar. Immediately he hunched over the counter, as if he was already drunk—which he would have loved to do, but the squirming maggot in his pocket demanded a weird sobriety.
Grillby, a fire elemental with cool blue fire, crackled in annoyance as he regarded the water Sans had brought in.
He loomed over Sans as he awaited an order. Sans peered up timidly from the crook of an arm, wanting to bask in the warmth of the bartender for as long as possible.
"Hey, Grillby."
Sans stood up straight, correcting his posture. Grillby expected nothing short of good manners in his bar and Sans wasn't about to give a reason from him to get kicked out. Coming into the bar all wet and smelly defiantly lost him some points.
"I'll have the usual—please. A burg with fries, along with a bottle of mustard."
Payment was upfront so Sans rummaged around his pockets for the corresponding gold—and, oh no—yep, he'd lost his chump change from either the delightful pool party at Waterfall or the panicked dip into Snowdin's lovely local river. Regardless, Sans was fresh out of luck.
Grillby stared down at him and his arms crossed. Sans felt the stares of other patrons on his back, no doubt thinking him a fool. Just an inkling whiff of not having any gold got one kicked out.
Fortunately, Sans was a regular at the bar, so Grillby gave him some leniency with his...antics.
Sans meekly looked up, "I will go ahead and use my tab for the day. Hope that's not any inconvenience."
Grillby didn't answer for a while, considering the idea. "Alright Sans, I may have something for you today." Grillby then reached out with his right hand. "The usual terms of the deal, correct?"
Oh dear, Sans's right hand was occupied with trapping the brat, keenly keeping it from wiggling. Sans had to awkwardly reached out with his left to shake on it, twisting his carpals which caused a strange popping sound.
He hoped to Asgore's hairy balls that no one saw how odd that was. Sans caught a glimpse of smoke coming off from Grillby as he walked away to fulfill the order—was he pissed? Suspicious? Or both?
Sans stared dejectedly at the counter. He was melting, mentally and physically as the chill in his bones left to make a puddle beneath him.
Grillby for sure wouldn't appreciate the mess, nor had he seemed keen on the deal. Sans himself regretted making a deal, it added a whole element of stress he'd have to deal with. He shouldn't have come to Grillby's-but when Sans's meal arrived hot and delicious, he couldn't regret a thing.
Running from death sure worked up an appetite!
Sans ate and drank only with one hand, no doubt making Grillby more suspicious. The meal also lasted longer than normal, as Sans ate fries one at a time. nibbling each as he savored the warmth—no doubt being a bit annoying as Grillby seemed keen on him leaving.
Through it all, Sans would never take another warm meal for granted. He was sure he'd almost died that day.
Finally it was done and Sans swiveled out of the stool to barrel outside before he lost his nerve to face the cold again. To make good on the deal, Grillby was waiting for him in the back. He passed Sans a tiny package—again awkwardly using one hand. Knowing the drill, Sans pocketed it and went on his way.
Suddenly, a hand pulled him backwards—intensely warm—Grillby.
"Fuck, Grillbz! W-what is it!?"
Spooked, Sans back peddled and Grillby cocked his head, amused.
"Sans it's imperative the package is delivered immediately. I would not have agreed to a deal otherwise."
Sans nodded, but fixed Grillby with a dirty look—fortunately, manners were only expected inside the bar. Grillby was lucky he didn't get a bone shoved up his flames for scaring him like that!
"Got it Grillbz, I'll…get on it."
The hand didn't pull away, but instead another grabbed Sans's pocketed arm!
Grillby's flames crackled with unspoken questions.
Sans didn't say anything. His voice would have cracked nervously if he had.
Shit, what did Grillby suspect? No way he could have seen the kid!
Grillby then let Sans go, giving him a rough shove forward.
"And Sans, bring gold next time."
Damn, the universe sure liked to throw him curve balls! If the day continued like the mess it was, Sans was going to snap a rib from all the stress!
Despite every ache in his bones screaming at him to turn around and go home—to get cozy with the mattress, Sans was walking in the opposite direction. Deals with Grillby were serious shit and Sans was more than sure one of Grillby's lackeys was sent to spy on him, hidden among the trees.
A quick glance at the package told Sans the delivery point, shown by a few discreet scratches on the surface—a secret code for a secret box.
Luckily, the point wasn't far at all and Sans suspected Grillby may have made a deal out of pity. The place was Doggo's sentry station and Sans approached slowly, calling out to not spook the occupant.
"Hey Doggo, it's me Sans—I'm coming up to chat."
To his understanding, Doggo had blindsight. The dog could see, but not colors or detail—just shadows—poor bastard. Sans could admit to some respect for Doggo. Living in the Underground for so long with that disability was impressive.
"Sans, just keep moving. Yes do come."
Doggo peeked up slowly from the station counter, almost snake-like. His ears pricked high on his head and he stood straight up, looming over Sans. Of course, everyone loomed over Sans.
"Got something for yah." Sans pushed over the package and Doggo swiped it over the counter.
Immediately, Doggo grew excited and began to unwrap the package.
Uh, that was odd and Sans took a few steps back—usually the contents were meant to stay hidden.
Sans almost dropped his jaw when he saw what Doggo pulled out.
It was a greasy paper bag from Grillby's and Doggo teared into the goods with abandon.
Holy shit, Grillby had been taking pity on him! He'd just needed to deliver Doggo's lunch.
Sans rubbed his face in frustration. Oh, for sure he was relieved that was all he had to do, but the fact Grillby had pitied him irked him slightly. He didn't want it-no, he didn't need it! Dealing in pity made a monster a target, simple as that.
"Sans, Sans move—come here, come come." Doggo excitedly waved Sans forward, a greasy paw outstretched.
"Eurgh, what?"
Sans took Doggo's paw and was given a dog-treat, perfect for a smoke.
He twirled it around, looking for any signs of tampering but all looked good—a genuine gift then.
"Thanks Doggo. This will be quite the treat for later."
Doggo nodded in agreement, "Yes, Can't beat a treat. And delivery is nice! Though…" Doggo paused, sniffing the air.
"The monster kid gives the delivery always. Did not come today."
"Ahh, I see. Wonder why—I'll keep a socket out for the brat." Doggo wagged his tail, appreciative. He persisted in sniffing the air, however—looking disturbed.
"It was nice for Sans to come. But going now is good."
Sans got the message and quickly spun around—intent on walking home—though of course the universe loved its curve balls. Just as he was re-entering Snowdin, the Boss stepped out to meet him, blocking the path.
"Sans, you sorry bag of bones! Where the pits have you been?!"
Suddenly, he became acutely aware of his appearance. Sans stood up straight and pocketed his other hand at an attempt of looking casual.
Boss's eyelights flashed angrily, looking Sans over erratically.
The pocketed hand holding the maggot felt heavy, shaky even. He couldn't let the Boss know about the maggot, not yet. The guy looked too pissed to be reasoned with.
"Oh, h-hey Boss! I was at the...the Dump like I said this morning! I was just heading on home now." Sans hadn't lied, but he sure didn't come off as sounding truthful. Being buried in garbage and having two impromptu swims left him vulnerable and he simply couldn't muster his usual confidence.
Boss had a knack for getting a read on people and was more than likely going to catch on that something was wrong, so Sans would have to do some classic-misdirection. Fortunately, he knew just how to mess with his brother.
Thanking again Doggo's generosity, Sans pulled out the dog-treat and made a big show of lighting it with a flick of his magic. The smoking treat settled nicely between Sans's teeth and Papyrus gaped at the display—the audacity!
It was no surprise when Papyrus smacked Sans upside the head—he was sure his teeth loosened just a smidge. The treat flew into the snow, though it was far from over. Papyrus proceeded to stomp repeatedly onto the treat. Nothing but crumbs were left under his boot—victory!
As memorizing as the overkill was, Sans had to get on home—his mattress at the forefront of his mind.
He began walking again Sans instinctively tensed and puffed up his jacket, already feel the Boss's glare threaten to snap his spine in two. His hands felt clammy as fatigue settled over him. Sans felt smaller and in turn, the maggot felt even smaller in his shaking hand. Huh, Sans noted the maggot hadn't been wiggling as much…in fact it hadn't bothered his hand a bit—shit, was it dead? It just might've been…it hadn't been in the best of shape when he stuffed it in the pocket. Shit. Shit. Shit.
He stopped walking as he seriously entertained the idea and stared down at the snow. He should have gone home earlier—skipped Grillby's entirely...the kid was dead.
Of course, Papyrus caught up to him. He wouldn't be a good Boss if he just let Sans go.
"Get back here! Walking off is not acceptable behavior! Sans!" Papyrus stomped up to Sans, who didn't meet his gaze, still staring down at the snow. It was dead. It was dead. Damn.
Not an authority to be ignored, Papyrus grabbed Sans's arm and pulled—the one that was holding the kid! Sans snapped to attention! He snarled and with his free hand tried to hook his claws into Papyrus's sockets. Not expecting such a feral and frankly, ridiculous reaction Papyrus released his hold, stepping back.
Sans teleported a few seconds later.