I Do It For You

Chapter 13: I Do It For You

Stay calm. Stay calm. Stay calm.

They dropped out of the shortcut almost as soon as they entered it, falling into the kitchen as displaced air popped around them. Chara slapped angrily at his hand and backed away into the kitchen wall, glowering hatefully at him. Their cheeks were red and they seemed to be sweating heavily, but their neck and forehead seemed uncomfortably pale. Sans pointedly ignored them and pulled the bags from his jacket, carelessly dropping them onto the table and almost flopping into one of the mismatched chairs before yanking out one of the bottles of heavy cider. He tore off the top with a flick of his thumb, leaving behind all pretense. He chugged hard at the amber liquid, either not noticing or not caring about the burn in the back of his throat. He slid the bottle top across the table and pocketed it.

Chara started to speak, but Sans silently held up a finger without taking the bottle away from his mouth, continuing to drink. They looked extremely irritated, but Sans ignored them again in favor of pouring down more of the burning cider. He eventually pulled away from the bottle and slammed it down onto the wooden table, causing Chara to jump. He sucked in greedy breaths of air, his vision blurring.

"… Sit," he jabbed a thumb at the chair opposite him. When they refused to move, he slowly turned his head toward them, and they saw that his eye sockets were empty. "Buddy. Friend. Pal . What did

I say about making me repeat myself."

Chara uttered something extremely foul under their breath, deliberately slowly shuffling over until they were in the seat opposite of him. They sat in complete silence for what felt like hours. Sans stared at the top of the glass bottle, watching the amber liquid slosh back and forth as he tipped the bottle, and the neck felt like the smokestack to a terrible factory. He let go eventually, leaning back and closing his eyes, letting out a long, frustrated sigh.

He cracked an eye socket open just in time to see Chara reaching for the bottle, and he was swift to grab the neck and yank it away, much to their annoyance.

"Yeah, no. None for you," he frowned. "I'm not totally irresponsible, thank you very much."

"… So when are you planning on doing it?" Chara asked quietly, not looking him in the eyes. Their arms were crossed and their scowl was plain on their face. They looked significantly different than Frisk when they pouted. Even now the little runt was tainting his child. He had to fight to keep his hands from shaking again.

"Do what, kid?"

"Kill me."

"Don't tempt me," he said dryly before cringing internally.

Stay calm. Don't get angry - well, actually, that's not going to happen, just don't take out your anger on them. Stay calm. For the love of god just stay calm.

They fell silent again, looking away. Sans tried hard not to stare at the mark that they were trying to hide, pulling up their shoulders. Angry red marks from his phalanges across their throat, almost unnoticeable if he hadn't been looking for them. The guilt surged upward again and he wanted to take the bottle and smash it over his own head. Or maybe theirs, depending.

"… So," Sans leaned forward suddenly with his elbows on the table, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. "Here's how this is gonna go down. I'm gonna ask some questions, and you're gonna answer them to the best of your ability."

"Then you'll kill me."

"Depends on the answer," he replied darkly before closing his eye sockets and sighing heavily. "Look. I don't know you. I don't like you either, but that's neither here nor there. I'm not going to pass judgment until I've heard your side of the story. So do me a favor and make it a damned interesting story."

Chara didn't speak.

Sans sighed again. He slowly pulled one of the burgers from the bag in its paper wrap and casually began to unfold it. It was still hot, surprisingly. Chara's eyes didn't leave him as he gradually unwrapped it before sliding it across the table in front of them.

"You should eat something," Sans said as he leaned back in his chair.

"Screw you."

Sans felt the magic building and roaring inside his head, and he had to fight to hold it back.

"Let me rephrase that. You're going to eat something."

"Then let me rephrase that," Chara scowled. "I can't."

"Suit yourself," Sans took another swig and pulled his own remaining burger from the bag, digging into it. "Paps won't eat Grillby's, but I sure will. Fork it over."

They didn't move.

He only shrugged, finishing off his meal.

"Honestly I couldn't care less about what you eat or whether or not you eat at all," Sans began quietly. "But you seem to be piloting my kid right now, and I'm positive that they need fuel. So do us both a favor and chow down already."

"I told you," Chara's frown deepened. "I can't."

"A'ight," he shrugged with a little grin. "I'll 'bite'. Why not?"

They pointed at their stomach.

"My stomach hurts."

"Yeah," he deadpanned. "Because you haven't eaten anything. Eating food makes stomach aches go away."

"You don't get it…" Chara seethed through their teeth. "I can't. It. Hurts ."

"And I'm telling you that you don't get it. It'll stop if you just… just eat… uh."

Sans blinked.

"Is it like before?"

Chara tilted their head a little at him. It was a bizarre motion, one that he had seen Frisk doing before, but this felt wholly different. Like watching a doll tilt lifelessly to the side. It was more than a bit unnerving, but thankfully that was repressed with a few more rounds of booze.

"Y'know. Like when Frisk was looking kind of - well, a lot like you're lookin' right now."

"I don't know how I look right now," Chara said blankly. "I don't have eyes outside my head."

Sans paused before taking another heavy swig. He was already a quarter of a way through it, and he could most certainly feel it. Frisk was a good kid. Chara was a pain in the neck and he wanted nothing more than to forcefully plant his foot right up their ass.

This kid was going to cause him to go through the whole bottle in one sitting at this rate. His head was feeling numb and fuzzy, the pleasant buzz ringing in his bones. Frankly it was the only thing keeping his bones from rattling by now.

"… Will you eat if I heal you?"

"Fuck off, I don't need-" Chara started before grasping their stomach, their face contorting. Their breathing quickened considerably, and sweat was almost pouring off their forehead. They were trembling at this point, torn between anger and pain.

"Okay," he shrugged again simply. "Suit yourself. I'm sure you won't wind up inches from death passed out in the floor again any time soon."

Chara shoved their chair away from the table, the legs scraping loudly against the floor. The stomped directly over to his side, their expression completely empty. They pulled up their shirt with one hand to reveal their marred stomach, and glared at him.

"Just hurry the fuck up and give it to me."

"Hey, save the bedroom talk for your date, eh?"

"Stop fucking with me!" Chara bellowed angrily.

"Stop swearing and maybe I will," he replied coyly. Chara opened their mouth to retort before slamming it shut, their cheeks a cherry red as they turned their head away. They opened and closed their mouth several more times without speaking.

"… Please ?" they asked through gritted teeth, distressed. From the sound of it just saying the word aloud was causing them physical agony.

"Please what?" Sans asked with his chin in his hands, grinning at them. It probably wasn't a good idea to antagonize them when they were clearly in pain, but he honestly couldn't help it. They were just too much fun to not irritate.

"I hate you," Chara seethed, clutching their stomach with one hand. "So. F-fucking much." Sans instantly felt the guilt resurface as they began to cry again, shaking hands unable to keep themselves still. Sans sighed internally and turned in his seat before holding his hand over their belly. He would just get it over with and then they could go back to eating and everything would be fine . Maybe he could even get Frisk to come back before Papyrus returned home and they could all sit down for a movie and pretend that everything was going to be okay for a while. Sans felt an uncomfortable prickle after a few moments.

This slowly grew into a gnawing feeling of growing despair and confusion.

"… Uh oh."

"What do you mean, 'uh oh'?" Chara snapped.

"Uh. Uh. Okay. Okay, don't panic," Sans felt sweat bead on the back of his head.

"That's not a reassuring thing to say to someone in pain," their eyes widened a little. He missed seeing Frisk's eyes. He missed hearing Frisk's quiet voice. He missed having Frisk around. Did he not appreciate Frisk enough? He preferred having them back, not this… thing. Frisk was nice.

Chara was just obnoxious.

Was that why the green magic wasn't coming? Because he felt no love for them?

That drove a spike of fear into the center of his chest.

What if he was wrong? What if Chara was just another part of Frisk? Was Chara's presence alone killing them?

What if he literally couldn't bring himself to care enough to heal them?

"… Sans?" Chara asked after a moment. They didn't look angry.

They didn't look spiteful, or bitter. They were crying silently. They just looked… hurt.

"Okay. Okay, just-just stay calm," he wasn't sure who he was talking to, who he was reassuring. "I can do this. Just… just stay still for me. Okay? Just stand real still. I've got this."

Sans took in a deep breath, feeling dizzy.

Maybe getting drunk and performing healing magic that he didn't have a full grasp of wasn't the best idea.

"… Are you sure you can't just ride it out?" Sans asked nervously, drawing his hand away a little.

"Are you shitting me?" Chara said through their teeth, eyes narrowing to dangerous slits. "Sans, I said please, don't make me beg like a dog!"

They really would be better behaved with a leash-

Sans shook his head fiercely, pressing his hand against their stomach gently.

"Alright. Okay. Just… hold on to something."

Chara looked around awkwardly and gripped their shirt a little tighter. Sans reached again for the magic, pushing harder this time. He could feel a terrible pounding in his head from the over exertion, his bones feeling heavier as magic coursed down his palm.

Nothing happened.

Sans had to fight back a tide of panic, closing his eye sockets tightly.

It was like healing a hurt Papyrus. Little Papyrus who scraped his knees falling down a small flight of stairs. Papyrus, who had been so overjoyed to see him come to his rescue. Frisk. Frisk needed him too. If Chara was in pain, then there was a good chance that Frisk was, too. Frisk, who looked at him with hope, with forgiveness, with mercy.

Frisk, who looked at him with love and promised to give him the impossible like it was something that they would gladly do for his sake. He had to do it. He had to do it for them.

Do it because you love them.

Do it for Frisk.

Sans heard them let out a shuddering breath as luminescent green light slowly began to trickle from his fingertips. He cracked open an eye socket to see their expression, and it was… unsettling, to say the least. It was like a disturbing amalgam of anger, slipping back and forth between pain and pure, unadulterated pleasure. A sliver of drool was leaking from the corner of their mouth and their eyes were rolling slowly back and forth beneath half lidded eyelids. Sans stopped immediately and it was like his whole being drooped. His shoulders fell and his head slowly began to slip, his eye sockets suddenly becoming far too heavy. There was a painful burning sensation in his chest that he attributed to the alcohol, he couldn't think straight.

"… Sans?" they asked quietly, dropping their shirt.

"Don't… make me… d-do that… again," Sans said through heavy breaths, putting his shaking hands on the table to keep the room from spinning. It wasn't helping. "Please… kid. I can't… please. I just can't."

Chara looked at him with something that might have been… worry? He couldn't tell. It couldn't have been. He couldn't even bring himself to feel spiteful toward the little shit for doing this to him. No energy left for anger or focus, too burned out to care anymore. He was so tired. So drained. He felt like his bones were full of lead. It was so much work just to keep his eye sockets open.

"… Please eat," he asked quietly. It took so much energy, so much effort just to lift his arm, and he let it drop onto their shoulder. "Please, kiddo. You're killing me here."

Chara looked back and forth from him to the food, clenching and unclenching their left hand.

"… Okay," they said eventually. "We- I'll eat. I'll eat, Sans."

"Thank you." his hand dropped to his side and hung limply. He tried to clutch his phalanges into a fist and nothing happened for several long, painful seconds, and even then just twitching felt like a gargantuan effort. Sans shakily stood, his legs feeling like a Moldsmal on a cold day. He couldn't quite bring himself to say what he wanted. He wasn't even sure he had the energy in him anymore. He couldn't focus. He couldn't think . He blindly grabbed at the bottle on the table, almost dropping it before slowly shuffling past Chara, who was bearing one of the strangest expressions that he had ever seen on anyone.

He could hear them softly stepping behind him as he made his way to the couch. Why were they following him? Didn't he ask them (very politely, for a change) to eat? Didn't they care?

That was fine.

Sans couldn't find it in him to care anymore, either.

He dropped onto the end of the couch, cradling the glass bottle between his legs. His eye sockets were still closed, but he could feel Frisk (Chara, Frisk, did it matter any more?) climbing onto the sofa beside him. For someone who hated him so much they were awfully close. Weird. He still didn't care.

They were silent for a while. Sans could feel unconsciousness pulling at the back of his mind. At least he would finally be able to rest. At least-

Their hands are between my legs oh god oh god oh god what do I do don't move don't react don't budge an inch don't panic don't react just stay calm stay calm you know what happens when you panic just for the love of god stay calm-

The friction he felt between his legs stopped as the glass bottle was slowly pulled away from him. He assumed that they were simply putting it away, which was nice of them. Then he rethought that stupidly optimistic reaction and crankily cracked open an eye to see them chugging heavily from the bottle.

"Shit !" he snatched it from them, causing them to cough and splutter as the liquor spilled onto their lap.

"Hey, what the hell ?!" Chara scowled. Sans couldn't bring himself to stand again, so instead he rifled in his pocket for a moment to find the bottle top, screwing it on and sticking the whole bottle into the crack in the cushions at the end of the couch.

"How much did you just drink?" Sans asked resignedly. Not like he was going to be getting it back out of them without ripping them open. His tongue felt so heavy. From the color of their face and the slightly fuzzy look of their eyes, he wagered that it was far more than they should be allowed.

Which was none.

Chara shrugged, crossing their arms and looking away.

"… Goddammit, kid," Sans pinched the bridge of his nostril bone and closed his eye sockets before letting his hand weakly fall. "I let a kid drink alcohol. Oh, god. Oh, Christ. Oh, god . Paps is gonna kill me."

"… Papyrus doesn't have to know…" Chara said quietly, and even though his eye sockets were closed he could feel that odd stare on him. Their words rang in his head. He felt slightly sick. Not just from the liquor. Not just because of the way that they said it.

Because it was true.

"… Kid, you're gonna wind up giving me a heart attack."

"Sans."

He grunted in response.

"… I still feel funny."

"That's because kids aren't supposed to drink," he frowned without opening his eyes. "Have fun with the hangover, by th' way. Hope yer fuckin' head aches."

"Sans I'm serious," Chara shook his shoulder roughly. "I… I still feel weird."

"Bad weird?"

They didn't answer.

"… I think I need more."

"Like hell I'm letting you drink-"

"Not that," Chara shook his shoulder again. "I-I just… I just need it. Okay?"

"Oh." he blinked his eye sockets open. "… Oh."

"… Please ?" they stuck out their lip like Frisk did, pouting.

"Okay," he caved almost as soon as he tried to fight it, his eye sockets slipping closed again as he let out a long, pained sigh. "Okay, bud. Just gotta rest for a few… few minutes."

"Sans, come on-"

"If you b'have," he tried to hold up a finger but wound up flopping his hand instead. What was wrong with his head? Even when he was drunk he still usually had a bit more coordination than this.

Something was wrong, and he couldn't manage to put his fingerbone on what. "A'ight? Can ya - can you be on your best behavior f'r a bit?"

They grumbled something incoherent, but it sounded enough like noncommittal agreement. Sans let out another long sigh, unable to hold his eye sockets open any longer.

It wasn't a good idea to fall asleep next to Chara. He didn't like the feeling of those red eyes on him. Especially not when he was vulnerable. It was a bad idea to start drinking, but they just made him so angry. So furious .

He did not need to take that anger out on anyone else.

Maybe not Chara.

Definitely not Frisk.

God he really was the worst kind of creature. He wondered if those thin marks on their neck would be healed by now thanks to the pitiful stream of green magic. Thinking on it only made him feel worse, no matter how hard he tried not to. They were already injured, and afraid, and he'd hurt them.

But it was okay, because they deserved it. They made him do it. If Frisk - if Chara - had just played nice then he wouldn't have had to get rough and make them regret it. He wasn't the bad guy. He was just doing what he had to. And besides, he healed them, so it wasn't like it was any lasting damage. He wasn't that kind of monster. It wasn't like he was a bad person or something.

… Right?

Frisk really didn't deserve to put up with something like him. He tasted bile in the back of his throat. Maybe not even Chara did. Certainly not Frisk.

He heard rustling.

"… Kid ."

They froze promptly next to him, having crawled a little closer. They were probably trying to wait until he was fully passed out before sneaking the alcohol again, but he kept it firmly away from them and pushed it a little further into the couch with one hand.

"Y-yeah."

"As soon as I get up, me n' you are gonna have a nice, long chat.

Either you or Frisk are gonna give me some answers."

"And what if I don't?"

"You will."

"So, what if I-"

"Then don't do it for me," he groaned quietly. "I don't care if you do it for me. Do it for Frisk."

They fell silent at that.

"Why do we have to keep doing this, Dad?"

"You were specifically instructed not to call me that," Gaster leveled a stare at the smaller skeleton from across the steel table. "You were given a designated position to refer to me-"

"Aw, come on. 'Doc' sounds so formal, don'tcha think?" Sans grinned at the bespectacled skeleton. He was stooped slightly over the table, scribbling furiously at a stack of papers encoded in an odd language. "Besides, it gets a funny reaction out of your little lackeys."

"They are assistants and you would be wise to refer to them as such," Gaster shifted his glasses with his forefinger expressionlessly. As he did everything. He always looked so blank. So empty. That smile was practically painted on for all the good it did, but Sans was used to it. Gaster rarely had a real smile, and the only times that he did were not times that Sans looked forward to.

"… You didn't answer my question," Sans said pointedly, rifling through some of the papers that he had been instructed to sort through for mathematical errors. It didn't even matter when he found any (because he always did) as Gaster's 'assistants' would undoubtedly be going back over them in a few hours anyway. So why bother doing the work when someone else would do it for him?

"Do you not want to be the savior of monsterkind?" the taller skeleton asked wryly. "Or are you still so selfish as to keep everyone behind the barrier?"

"You know full well that the stupid blasters aren't going to tear down the barrier no matter how many times we hit it," Sans grinned. "Why not just give up? I did."

"I know," Gaster said quietly. "You reprobrate. That's why we have the backup."

"Yeah, and 'the backup' has a name, you know." San's grin fell from his face. Irritation was beginning to take over, but he forced it back down. He needed to keep a clear head.

"He will have a proper name when he earns it," he replied tartly, shifting through papers. "You should feel privileged that you are being included at all."

"Yeah. Because 'privileged' is exactly what I feel during our

'sessions'. Y'know. That, and mind breakingly tortuous agony."

Gaster let out a breath through his teeth, his expression unchanging.

"One day you will thank me, Sans. You will thank the stars for ever having the right to know me. Stars that you will get to see after we eradicate humanity."

"See, statements like that are the reason why I think it's a good thing that you're trapped down here and not up there."

Gaster didn't react. Not in the traditional sense. He did, however, become very quiet and very, very still, and Sans couldn't keep the grin off of his face. His session today was going to be absolutely brutal, he had no doubt. But that didn't matter to him.

It was a little game between them by this point. If he could get under the skeleton's skin (hah) and elicit a response from the seemingly emotionless scientist, then that was it. He won. They both knew it. That made it more fun.

But Gaster always was a sore loser.

Sans almost didn't care how many times he begged for death that day.