Introductions Are In Order

Chapter 12: Introductions Are In Order

Grillby's had a certain scent to the place that Sans never could quite get enough of.

He could smell the place even before he entered, but the strong whiff that hit him when they opened the door always felt like a second home. The slightly crispy scent of wood smoke and cooking food, the warmth that seeped into his bones the moment he stepped inside filled him with a soothing sensation that he never could fully place. It was something that he found that he could never quite get enough of, no matter how many times he came back to Grillby's, he always felt that delightful sensation.

He held Frisk's hand and glanced down to them with a hopeful grin. Maybe they could understand. They looked worried as he felt, and were holding their stomach with one hand, looking a little flushed.

Frisk's eyes were wide as they took in the place, looking about curiously at the slowly spinning ceiling fan with thin trails of smoke swirling around it, at the monsters lining the booths along the wall and stools, at Snowdin's royal guards chatting amicably amongst themselves at a circular table where they played cards. Frisk's eyes lingered on them nervously for a while before they glanced back up at him, but he only smiled and nodded. He wanted them to know that they were safe.

Granted, he couldn't necessarily ensure that they had their disguise, what with it being soaked to get the blood out, and yet… nobody seemed to notice. Even Doggo paused when they entered the building, looking up from his slowly waving hand full of cards and a smoking dog biscuit in his mouth. He said nothing at all to Sans, his eyes narrowed for a long moment. However, after a bit he reclined visibly with a barking laugh before turning back to his game with the other dogs, and his grip on Frisk's hand relaxed a little.

"Welcome ta Grillby's, kiddo," Sans said quietly. "Time for introductions."

"Heya, Sans!" Dogamy perked up the moment he spotted him, his thick brow rising in surprise. "Good to see you!"

"Hi, Sans," Dogaressa yawned quietly, holding up a paw to him. "Good to see you in better health."

"I get knocked down, but I get up again," Sans shrugged with a little grin. "Ain't nothin' gonna keep me down."

Greater Dog gave a floor shaking rumble from his spot opposite them, tongue lolling happily from his mouth.

"You said it, big guy," Doggo barked another laugh, blowing out smoke. Sans let out a silent sigh of relief. Did nobody but Doggo recognize Frisk for what they were? What exactly had he been so worried about?

"Hi there Sans," an odd horse looking monster in a leather jacket slid a comb through his hair as he passed them, heading for the door.

"Good to have ya back."

"Heya, Sansy~ " he heard the slur from his right, and he had to bite back a groan. The bunny monster with her head slumped on the table had heavily flushed cheeks, and it looked like her eyes were spinning. But he couldn't say much. That would have been rude. Besides, the last time he'd been less than considerate toward her had been… highly unpleasant. Thank god she would never remember it. There were a lot of things that he was glad she wouldn't remember.

"Hey doll," Sans waved to her as they passed, trying to get to the bar without looking right at her. He couldn't, he just couldn't do it. Not this timeline, it was still too soon.

"Who's your new friend, Sansy?" she called drunkenly after him. "Totally like flies t'honey, huh?"

"What can I say," he shrugged, trying (and failing) to fight off the deadpan. "I'm like a lightning rod for fun."

A lightning rod for crazy, actually.

"Hey, Sans…" a duck looking monster with a large bill looked at him in confusion as he plopped into one of the barstools, patting the one beside him for Frisk to hop up on. They sat on top of a small whoopie cushion and pulled it out from underneath them, slowly turning and giving him a blank stare, which he only shrugged at with a smirk. "Where have you been? You never miss out on a visit at Grillby's."

"Just one visit?" he said loudly. "Buddy, I never miss out on any meals," he patted his stomach. There was a chorus of chuckles behind him from the dog's table, and he relaxed a little. Everything was going to be fine. Grillby was busy with another patron at the end of the bar, but it didn't matter.

Frisk was staring off into the corner where the monster with the slicked back hair had been; or more accurately, staring intently at the old wooden and glass jukebox. It was worn, and beaten, but polished with a pleasant sheen.

"So you like music, huh? What? Never seen a jukebox before, kiddo?" Sans asked, sticking his hands in his pockets. He withdrew a hand and held it out to them, dropping a few golden coins into their palms and nodding toward it. "Why don't you go give it a whirl, buddy?"

Frisk's face lit up brightly as they hopped from the stool that they had struggled so hard to climb atop, scampering excitedly over to the jukebox and bouncing on the balls of their feet with a huge grin as they pressed their face to the glass to see better.

He heard the crackly chortle of the bartender, and almost jumped. For someone that was literally made of fire, Grillby could easily sneak up on someone. Or was Sans just paying that little attention?

"Heya, Grillbz," Sans said tiredly, sticking his hands back in his pockets. "I'm gonna need somethin' strong."

"Is that really such a wise idea, my friend?" Grillby blinked behind his spectacles, which was a strange sight. "I had heard from your brother that you and the little one were not well. I cannot deny I began to grow worried."

Sans felt like he had been punched in the stomach. How was he supposed to say it?

What was he supposed to say?

That there was a depraved sickness inside of him that was infecting his mind?

That he was a vile creature that could never truly wash the blood from his hands?

That his life was slowly crumbling around him no matter how desperately he tried to fight to make things better?

Sans realized that he had been sitting stock still for a little too long and forced himself to appear to relax, giving a small practiced grin.

"No worries, Grillbz," Sans waved him off with faux cheerfulness. "My fault for not bein' cautious enough. Everything is fine now. Everything is fine," he said with a bit too much conviction. Grillby looked at him quietly, not moving. Sans started to sweat. There was that feeling again that only Grillby could make him feel, like he was being looked through. Like he could see the sins staining his soul.

Like he knew .

Sans desperately tried to pretend that he wasn't sweating as profusely as he was.

After a moment however Grillby nodded silently and returned with a couple of shots of slightly fizzing red liquid, which Sans wasted no time at all in downing with a thankful nod. He felt the burn almost immediately and let out a grateful sigh, closing his eyes. The insides of his bones were warm, and Grillby's already small establishment felt just a bit cozier for a little while. His mind felt thankfully fuzzy. At least he wouldn't have to drag his mind out of the dark places for a while. He couldn't go getting full on drunk, and had to forcibly remind himself of this a couple of times. He had things to do. He had to take care of Frisk.

Speak of the devil…

"Sans?"

"What's up, buddy?" Sans blinked his eye sockets open, turning on his stool to give them his full attention.

"I-I put in the money, but…" they fidgeted awkwardly, hiding their hands in their sleeves and looking away. "I… I didn't b-break it, did I…?"

Sans let out a single heh and patted them on the head, slipping from his stool. "Nah, don't worry, kid. That thing's just old and rusty and doesn't really work."

"Like you?"

Sans wasn't quite sure that he had ever heard Grillby laugh before.

"Got a lip on ya today, huh, kid?" Sans couldn't keep the smile off his slightly heated face.

"I have lips every day," Frisk blinked up at him in confusion. "You're the one who doesn't have lips."

Were… were they messing with him? At least Grillby would back him up-

And Grillby was snickering behind his back. Goddammit.

"Alright, alright," he nudged them toward the jukebox with his elbow.

Why was he getting irritated? "C'mon, kid. I'll show ya how to fix it."

Frisk lit up promptly, shifting from foot to foot with an eager expression.

Sans stood directly in front of the jukebox for a moment, unmoving. Then he casually reached out and gave it a couple of raps with his knuckles before elbowing it hard a few times, like he was tapping out a tune. Frisk's eyes widened considerably when gentle speakeasy music began emanating from the speakers.

"Whoa…" they stared at him. "How did you do that?"

He waved his hands in front of him with widened eyes and a dopey smile.

"Mmmmmmmaaaaaaagic," he said with a smirk. Frisk seemed highly unsatisfied with his answer. He only found it slightly funnier that way. He couldn't keep a smile off his face as they tried to wiggle along to the music, shaking their arms a little and sliding left and right along to the tune. He rolled his head back in the direction of the bar after a minute, where Grillby was leaning with a quiet smile.

"There's not exactly a lot on the menu," Sans shrugged as they reclaimed their seats. "Unless you like burgers and fries."

Frisk looked back and forth between Grillby and Sans. The skeleton shrugged again.

"Burgers it is," and Grillby nodded before taking off at a brisk pace. "You're gonna love it, kid. Grillby's got the best stuff around."

Frisk brushed the hair from their eyes, and he froze instinctively. Their eyes were brown. It was fine. Everything was fine.

"Sans?"

"What's up, buddy?" he pulled a ketchup bottle from across the counter and flicked off the top expertly before taking a long swig. He held his hand on the table, tracing the wood grain with his fingertip.

"Um… what did you want to t-talk to me about?"

Sans swiftly felt as if the couple of shots that he'd had before weren't nearly enough. He had almost managed to forget about that. He really wished it could have stayed that way.

Grillby still wasn't back yet, and Sans wished that the elemental would hurry to distract him so that he could stop this conversation and never, ever bring it up again.

"… Look," Sans's shoulders sank a little, his face saddening. He swallowed hard, the guilt pulling at his chest. God this was difficult. "There's-there's, uh. Something I've… something I think I need to tell ya. I'm-I'm just… not sure how."

"It's okay," Frisk said kindly, placing their soft hand over his with a little smile. "I trust you."

It hurt.

It ached, it burned, it fucking hurt.

He really was a miserable creature. They looked at him with that hopeful smile, tilting their head a little with their hair in their eyes. With so much belief in their eyes. With so much love that he didn't deserve.

They needed to know so that he could find a way to stop this. To stop him. To know that they had to stay away.

And just the thought of forcing them away hurt even more.

What the actual fuck am I doing with my life.

"… Heh. This is Grillby, by the way. Looks like the grub's up," Sans's smile stayed on his face, but it felt so plastic. Frisk looked almost worried as they poked around the plate that Grillby set for them before he resumed tending to other patrons. "Bone appetit, buddy."

Sans thoroughly enjoyed Grillby's cooking, and this was no exception. The burger was thick and juicy, not too well done with a slight hint of charcoal among the tender meat. Frisk watched him eat for a few moments, like they were uncertain.

"It's alright, kid," Sans said after a bit of them poking uneasily at their plate without actually eating. "It's probably not gonna bite back."

"I'm sorry," Frisk rubbed their arms, trying to hide their hands in their sleeves. "I… I can't."

"Aw, come on, kiddo…" he gave a little sigh. "Who knows? Maybe

you'd like it if you tried it."

Frisk shifted again, staring down at their plate. They had to be hungry by now. They were so small, so thin. It was like they weren't used to eating, and the thought made his soul ache.

"… Just a bite ?" he prodded.

Frisk looked around nervously, their cheeks flushed. They opened and closed their mouth a few times before tightly locking their lips, looking away. What was wrong with them? Were they really disliking Grillby's that much? They seemed so happy when they were dancing and shaking along to the music. Were they not used to public places like this? That might have explained the redness in their cheeks.

Maybe they were just nervous about being to a new place. Something wasn't adding up and it bothered him more than he admitted. Something that tingled in a familiar manner in the back of his mind.

Sans sighed internally and waved to Grillby.

"Don't worry, kiddo," Sans patted them on the head, and they flinched. "Hey, Grillbz. I think we're gonna get ours to go. Put it on my tab?"

Grillby crossed his arms and narrowed his fiery brows, but put away their food in a brown paper bag for them regardless. How Grillby managed to even hold it without setting it on fire was a mystery to Sans. He chalked it up to magic. Sans quietly asked Grillby for something after Frisk had climbed down from the barstool, and Sans gladly traded off the remaining golden coins in his pocket for a second bag, this one with a couple of large glass bottles.

They didn't take a shortcut immediately. He simply stood outside of Grillby's, taking a deep breath and letting the snowflakes fall and build on him. He held Frisk's hand the entire time, staring off at the ceiling for a while. He could still see some of the more luminescent crystals in the ceiling poking through the clouds. If Frisk minded at all they didn't say a word, only holding his hand back and slowly looking up at the cloudy ceiling where the snow fell in puffy bits.

"… Sans?"

"What's up, buddy?" Sans asked quietly, not looking away.

"Why are you sad?"

Sans blinked, glancing down at them. He gave their hand a little squeeze as he smiled.

"I'm okay, kid. I'm always okay. Just thinking."

Frisk was silent for a moment.

"Sans?"

"Yeah, kid."

"… Have you ever seen the sky?"

"I've seen pictures," he shrugged. "There are illustrations in textbooks. Some of the surviving ones that monsters have managed to salvage from the garbage dump, anyway."

Frisk looked at him with something that might have been… sadness? Hope? Pity? God he hoped it wasn't pity. He didn't want them to pity him. It made him feel dirty, useless.

"… Sans."

"Yeah, kid."

"Someday," Frisk took a deep breath, puffing out their chest.

"Someday, I'm-I'm gonna give it to you."

"… Give what?"

"The sky," they said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You, and Papyrus, and Undyne, and Mo- everyone," Frisk's voice grew quieter as they gently squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back, running his thumb slowly over their knuckles. "Someday, I'm gonna give you stars. Real stars. All of the surface, and the sun, and the moon, and all the stars in the night sky. I want everybody to see them."

Sans felt his breath catch in his aching chest. They really were such a sweet kid. They looked at him with that little smile, so hopeful, so happy, so full of love. Sans let out a shaky sigh and lowered himself a little until he was head height with them. Hadn't he hated them not so long ago?

"… Hey. Kid. I wanna show you something," he carefully tucked the bags into his jacket before pulling them a little closer. "Hang on real tight, and whatever you do, do not let go. Okay?"

"Okay? Um… can-can I ask why?"

"You'll find out in a second. Also try not to open your eyes or think about what's happening," he promptly regretted his phrasing and swallowed hard. "Uh. It helps with motion sickness is what I mean. Just take my hand and trust me. Alright, kiddo?"

Frisk nodded obligingly, and Sans felt the pull of magic as the void whipped and whirled around them. Sans didn't even have to open his own eye sockets to see, he knew what he would see if he did, and greatly preferred not to dwell on it long. He stepped carefully from the shortcut into the dark, and Frisk took in a sharp breath as they released him.

The stones in the ceiling sparkled brilliantly. It was one of the relatively drier spots in Waterfall, but it still wasn't exactly dry by any means as droplets of water fell from the ceiling regularly in small sprinkles. Sans sat quietly on the ground cross legged and craned his neck, keeping Frisk in sight as they gaped open mouthed upward.

"We might not have stars down here," Sans said quietly. "But we've got these. Everybody just calls it the wishing room, since we don't have stars to wish on, we just use these glowing rocks up here. And, hey, who knows. If you wish hard enough, your wish might even come true."

Frisk slowly, carefully sat down beside him, reaching out to hold his hand again before leaning against him quietly.

"That's… that's so sad," Frisk said unhappily after a while.

"Sad?" he blinked. "Nah, not even close. Just proof that monsters can stay hopeful even in the face of adversity. I think it's kinda admirable."

"… Do you ever make wishes here?" they asked.

"Nah. Too lazy for that kind of thing," he winked.

Frisk seemed displeased at his answer, but didn't say anything else. They only squeezed his hand a little tighter, giving him an odd look before turning their head back to the ceiling. They sat like that for a long while, neither of them speaking. That was fine with Sans. He gradually began to slip into unconsciousness every now and then. Maybe they could just stay like this for a while. Sans really wouldn't mind. He wasn't necessarily comfortable, sitting on the cold slightly wet hard stone, but he could relax just about anywhere regardless. Frisk skipped a few rocks silently over a puddle, tossing them out with their left hand.

There was that feeling again.

And it finally clicks.

"… Hey, kid."

"What is it, Sans?" they replied without looking at him, tossing another rock.

"When are you comin' back?"

They stiffened.

"… Whatever do you mean?" they said quietly, turning a little to face him. Their red eyes locked onto his empty ones, and they froze.

"That's a pretty neat trick you can do with your eyes…" he said with a slowly growing grin.

" e?"

Sans's left eye flared blue with magic, causing them to nearly trip over themselves in panic to get away. The child screamed as they were hurled roughly through the air, and the wind was knocked from their lungs as they hit the dripping stone wall. He could see their soul doused in blue through their shirt, giving off a slightly sickly light. Their eyes were wide as they scrabbled at their throat viciously, red fingernail marks leaving streaks, little chest heaving for air as gravity slowly increased, pinning them in place.

"I'm always a fan of fun," Sans said slowly as he stood, dusting off his shorts. "But I think this is kinda messed up as far as practical jokes go. So I'm only gonna ask you once. Where's the kid."

It wasn't even a question as much as it was a statement, a promise of pain to come.

The human choked and pulled at invisible cords around their neck, eyes rolling wildly in their head. Sans let out an irritated sigh and held out his hand and loosening his fingers, releasing his grip a little. They sucked in greedy gulps full of air, tears streaming down their face.

"Don't have all day, buddy," Sans tapped an invisible watch on his wrist, trying his best to remain calm. "So let's get this show on the road, huh? Because to be honest, I'm not exactly in a patient fuckin' mood right now."

"Fuck you," the child that looked like Frisk screamed at him as soon as they could, still gasping for breath. "Fuck you, fuck you I hate you, I hate you so - fucking - much… !"

"I can live with that," he stuck his hands in his pockets. "I hate me too, kiddo."

"Fuck you," they swore again, sobbing. "F-fuck you, fuck y-you… !"

"Man, I am gonna have to introduce you to the swear jar," Sans chortled humorlessly. "But, see I'd really like to have Frisk back, and you're getting on my nerves."

"I-I am -"

"Don't," he growled bitterly, increasing the gravity on them little by little and causing them to gasp in pain from the pressure. "Don't get me wrong. You look just like the kid. But there are a few things that gave it away. For example, that little lilt in your voice when you talk, sound like you're not even from this era. Plus, Frisk doesn't swear. Like, ever. Also, you happen to be left handed," he eyed their left arm pointedly. "Frisk is right handed. You aren't. So what do you say we just cut the shit, eh? I'd really like to have my kid back. How about it?"

"How about you go fuck yourself-"

He threw out his arm, slamming the child into the ground.

Hard.

Repeatedly.

They groaned and coughed in agony, curling up in a little ball and desperately trying to kick away from him but were unable to move from their spot.

"Man, what is it with you?" he asked quietly, leaning a little with his hands in his jacket pockets as he stood over them. "Do you like pain or something? 'Cause if that's the case, buddy, I can grant that wish for ya."

"I hate you," they hiccuped with their arms over their head, trying to hide their face. "Go to hell, fucker!"

Sans let out a quiet sigh through his teeth, gradually bending at the knees until he was squatting in front of them. He silently picked up their tear streaked face by the chin with his forefinger, forcing them to look at him. Those red eyes, so full of anger, leaking tears and rage and hatred.

And Frisk was in there, somewhere.

"… Let's just get to the point."

They froze, breath catching.

"I don't wanna die," they whispered miserably, tears beginning anew. "I don't wanna die ."

"Yeah. Well. That's kinda too bad for you," Sans said quietly.

"Because I promised to take care of Frisk . I've got no such obligation toward you. Hopefully you'll be Frisk when you come back."

"No, no no no no… !" they sobbed again, trying to curl in on themselves. They only shook and cried, vainly trying to hide their entire self behind their arms. Sans couldn't help but cringe.

God, was he really going to kill them until he got Frisk back?

He wouldn't deny that this little red eyed shit was irritating him. And at least he'd be taking his anger out instead of bottling it up. Silver linings. Christ on a bike, what kind of a monster was he.

Sans sighed a little. He stood up straighter, giving them a minute as they wept.

"… Look, buddy," he said with a frown. "If you don't quit with the waterworks I'll be forced to use my special attack."

If anything, this only caused them to cry and shake harder, but they silenced themselves immediately. They shook and choked quietly, clinging tightly to themselves. Sans sighed again.

"Can't say I tried. Alright, here' goes."

They flinched, stopping breathing altogether.

They hardly even registered when Sans's slipper bounced off their head.

The child tearfully blinked in confusion, looking back and forth between Sans and the slipper.

"Nyeh. Take that," he said in a straight deadpan. "I gotta warn you though. I can only do that twice."

"… Are you fucking with me?" they sputtered.

"First of all, watch your damned language," Sans scowled, sliding his foot back into his slipper. "But, uh. I got to thinkin'. Maybe we got off on the wrong…" he pointed at his slipper again. "Foot."

"… I hate you so much."

"Again, something I can live with. If not I'd surely die," he winked. They hadn't even noticed when the gravity altering magic had ceased to hold them down, but they didn't run when they sat up. "So.

How's about we start this off right with introductions? The name's Sans. Sans the skeleton," he winked again. "But I don't seem to remember your name, though I'm pretty goddamn sure we've met."

"There's a lot you seem to forget," they sniffed hatefully, rubbing their nose with their sleeve.

"Like, for example?"

"Like, for example all the dirty, perverted disgusting shit you promised to do to me if I ever came back."

Sans's marrow ran cold.

"… I-I said a lot of things," his voice didn't seem to want to come out properly.

"Yeah, you sick fuck. Like 'I'll pull out your eyeballs and skull fuck you to death," they listed off on their fingers, giving him a withering glower. "Or 'I'll chain you to my basement wall where you belong.' Or 'I'll make you choke to death on my cock', or 'I'll assfuck the life out of you', ooh, or my personal favorite, 'How about I-"

"That's enough !" Sans snapped and made them flinch, sweating heavily. "Jesus. Jesus fucking Christ," he ran a hand over the top of his head. "I… I said a lot of t-things that I regret," he stuck his hands back in his pockets before they could see how badly he was shaking. "I just… you really don't get just how badly I wanted it to stop ."

"You think you're the only one to suffer?" their red eyes narrowed as they wiped their eyes with their sleeve. "Do you have even the slightest inkling of what you did to Frisk ?"

That seemed to strike a nerve.

Sans had to take a long, hard, deep breath to keep from screaming.

"You -" he jabbed a finger at them. "Do not get to speak of behalf of Frisk. If they've got something to tell me, they can tell me themselves. Capiche ? Now, I really, really don't like repeating myself, and it would be a bad idea to make me. I'm trying - honest to god, really fuckin' trying - to be a nice guy, and I can't guarantee that the offer is going to last long, so I'm gonna ask one. More. Time. Where's Frisk?"

"Resting," they said simply. They still didn't stand, didn't look him in the eyes.

"Better than no answer," Sans rolled his overly tense shoulders. "Next question. What's your name?"

They didn't answer.

Sans started to remove his hand from his pocket, and they flinched.

"… C-Chara," they answered quietly, their cheeks heating a little as if they were ashamed to admit it. "My-my name is Chara."

"Whelp," he stuck out his hand to help them up, which they slapped away and stood on their own. "Can't necessarily say it's been 'nice' to meet'cha, 'Chara'. But I know Frisk hasn't eaten much, so you've gotta be hungry, too. Let's go finish off these burgs, eh?"

"What do you care?" they crossed their arms sourly. "You're just like everyone else. You just want to get rid of me."

"Why would I?" he shrugged halfheartedly. "I got two kids for the price of one."

Chara stared at him curiously, lower eyelid slowly rising as their eye ticked.

"Don't call me a kid ! What is it with you?" they almost shouted at him. "What the fuck is your prob-"

Chara suddenly found it more difficult to speak with Sans's fist clenched tightly around their throat. Their eyes bulged a little and their mouth opened and closed but nothing came out, and Sans silently marveled at how effortless it was to combine blue magic and a death hold. Most of his other thoughts were drowned in a sea of violent, angry impulses.

He forced himself to release his grip, his shoulders shaking with barely concealed rage. It was a good thing he'd picked up the liquor from Grillby, because at the rate they were going now he was most certainly going to need it sooner rather than later. He had to list off the reasons in his head why it was a bad idea to force resets until Frisk came back.

"… Right," he said quietly, widening his grin a little. "Definitely gonna have to introduce you to the swear jar."