Dangerous
Chapter 40: Dangerous
If Sans thought the previous morning had been busy, he was outright stunned by the amount of noise today.
There was shouting and yammering outside the door of reporters banging to get in, and Blake leaned with his back against the door with wide eyes, pulling fretfully at his ear ring.
"Sounds like we've got a couple o' visitors," Sans said calmly.
"Every freakin' reporter in Ebott is at my front door," Blake pulled at his hair. "Oh god, I am way too sober for this."
"Take a breath, buddy," Sans placed a hand calmly on his arm. "Believe me, I feel ya. Breathe already."
"I am breathing," Blake insisted, readjusting the black suit that he wore, looking extremely out of place and itchy in it. "Asgore is out in the car, I've gotta take him and Toriel to see the mayor."
"Gettin' along with swanky folks, eh?" Sans stated with a grin. "Don't worry, man. Me and Frisk will hold down the place while you guys are out."
"If we can even get out," Blake peeked through the eye hole in the door. "Dear Moses, there's, like, thirty people in the hallway. Mrs. Weatherby's gonna flip ."
"The nice old lady down the hall?"
"The very same," Blake tried to fix his tie and failed, giving up halfway. Sans motioned for him to lean down, and he shifted the tie so that it was the right way out for him. "Oh man, if these jackasses give my landlady a heart attack… !
"Blake. Blake," Sans gripped him by the shoulders firmly, pulling the red faced man down to eye level. "Take it easy, buddy. Everything is gonna be fine."
"R-right," he let out a long breath and ran a hand through his short spiky hair. "Right. Everything will be… fine."
"Are we good to go yet?" Undyne stretched her arms behind her head, having forgone her armor in favor of a light green tank top and jeans. "Or are these nerds still blocking the way? Want me to go bash some heads for ya?"
"No, no!" Blake said quickly. "Please no head bashing! Mission of peace, remember?" he blurted nervously. "The very last thing we want is some kind of fight. We have to be at city hall in twenty minutes… !"
"Y-you're r-really freaking o-out about this…" Alphys stated from the kitchen doorway, shifting her white lab coat to button up the front. "IIt really w-will be okay. Just h-have a l-little faith in us."
"I do have faith in you guys," Blake pulled at his ear ring awkwardly. "It's the rest of these goons that I'm worried about."
"Alright," Undyne cracked her knuckles, brushing Blake aside. "Let's try this the diplomatic way."
Undyne hurled open the door, brandishing a glowing spear in one hand with a gigantic, manic grin spreading across her face.
"GET THE HELL OUTTA HERE! " she bellowed so loudly that the windows shook. The crowd of reporters dispersed almost immediately, scrambling over themselves to get away from the magical spear brandishing warrior, several of them dropping their cameras in the process. A couple tried to grab them as they ran, but a couple simply left them behind in their panic. Blake simply stood speechless in the doorway, where Undyne ever so casually motioned for him to continue as she flicked her glowing spear out of existence, taking a mock bow.
"That's your version of 'diplomatic'?" he asked dryly.
"I got the job done, didn't I?" Undyne said smugly.
"She is very, um. Effective," Alphys nodded in her direction with a little blush.
"We'll have time to talk about that later," Blake patted himself down before pulling a key out of his pocket and placing it carefully in Sans's hand. "You sure you guys don't wanna come with us to see the mayor?"
"Hey, even the ambassador to monsters has gotta take a break now and then," Sans shrugged towards Frisk, who was sitting with their legs crossed indian style on the couch as they watched them silently. "Besides, the mayor and his wife are comin' over for dinner tonight anyway, so what's the rush?"
"Oh balls help me I almost forgot about that… !" Blake began panicking again, but didn't have time to finish his stuttering as Undyne ushered him out the door with Alphys close in tow. Sans waved them all goodbye, silently closing the door behind them all. He eventually let out a relieved sigh, turning towards Frisk and frowning.
"Alright," he said at last. "That's everybody out. Guess it's just you an' me today, huh, buddy?"
Frisk didn't respond, but they did pat the seat beside them with a warm smile.
"Oh, you wanna watch another movie, huh?" Sans shrugged and flopped onto the couch beside them, making them bounce a little. "Okay, kiddo. What's it gonna be this time? The Little Mermaid? The Lion King? Ah, you got a new one there," he noted as Frisk held up the plastic case. "Beauty and the Beast, huh? Might be good. Man, you've really got a thing for musicals."
Frisk nodded a few times with a large smile, practically bouncing up and down on their seat with a grin.
"Alright, alright, I guess I'll put this one in," he gave a faux sigh. "Really givin' me a workout today, munchkin."
Sans popped in the movie and reclined in the seat beside Frisk, who curled up comfortably next to him and held his hand. He sighed quietly and tried to resist the urge to simply go back to sleep. If he did he knew that he would be out for a while, and it would totally defeat the purpose of staying behind to search for clues.
"… So," Sans asked quietly as the movie started, and Frisk turned slightly in his direction. "Just curious. You didn't wanna see the mayor of the whole city just yet?"
Frisk shook their head gently, squeezing his hand a little tighter.
"Don't even worry about it," he petted the top of their head, and they leaned into his touch with a smile. "I don't blame ya for not wantin' to hang out with a bunch of stuffy old dudes."
"You're a stuffy old dude," Frisk responded quietly.
"Ouch, my feelings," he snorted. Frisk only giggled a little and leaned up to kiss him on the cheek, giving him a hug. He ruffled their hair and grinned, reclining in the seat and sighing, closing his tired eye sockets. He didn't need to be closing his eyes right now. He didn't want last night's… upsetting dream to wander back into his consciousness. The less he thought about it the better.
He needed to keep his mind out of those dark corners. Dreams like that certainly weren't doing any good for his mental health. He needed to focus. He needed a drink. He needed a smoke.
You need to keep your eye sockets open.
Sans blinked, feeling groggy. He had only closed his eye sockets for a bare moment. When had he fallen asleep? He could have sworn that he didn't. However, Frisk had shifted from their position beside him to lay on their side with their head in his lap. He picked up a few strands of their hair and dropped it into their face playfully. Frisk didn't brush the hair from their face, but they did try to blow it away to no avail, getting some of it in their mouth and spluttering quietly. Sans laughed and shook his head, gently nudging them to slip out from underneath them so that he could stand. Frisk looked at him curiously, but he only shook his head.
"Nothin' to worry about. I'm not leavin', just gotta check something real quick."
Frisk looked at him suspiciously but nodded once, turning back to the animated film with an odd expression on their face. Sans slipped away down the hall, and couldn't quite shake the feeling of eyes on his back as he went. Once he was out of eyesight, he quietly tried to open Blake's bedroom door, only to find it locked.
… Who locks their bedroom door? Oh. Right.
Sans summoned up a little burst of magic, not enough to tire him, just enough to shift the tumblers inside the lock. He grinned when it clicked open with a little blue spark, and he pressed the door open to reveal the small room. Blake had a single dresser beside his bed, which he was surprised to see wasn't quite as large as he was expecting. Hadn't the king and queen slept in here? What, did one of them have to sleep on the floor? Sans couldn't see Asgore making his ex sleep on the floor. Unless he was way more vindictive than he thought, but he doubted it. Sans kicked the door closed quietly with the flat of his foot, rolling his shoulders and looking about.
Alright, buddy. Let's see what you're hiding.
Sans did not find much immediately. The room was small and the closet was full of brightly colored shirts and a few pair of jeans, with a couple of cardboard boxes in the floor. He knelt and cracked one open, peering through the box of papers curiously.
Bills.
Bills.
Bills.
Expenses. And also more bills.
Sans frowned. Why did he have so many bills? A couple of the addresses were from different cities altogether, and some were labeled as 'collection agency'. Sans sifted through the bills, bewildered. Had Blake gone into debt at some point? His frown deepened as he carefully replaced the papers, cracking open another cardboard box. Inside were knickknacks and items that must have had some sentimental value. A snow globe, a key chain with a little plastic scorpion encased in glass, a bag of multicolored marbles. Normal stuff. Sans closed the box back up and began impatiently digging through the next one. Inside were a multitude of worn old photographs stacked neatly atop one another.
Some were faded and yellow, others looked as if they were as crisp and clear as they day they were printed. There were a couple of pictures of a young man with long, shaggy hair, and it took Sans a moment to realize that it must have been a younger Blake. In one of them he stood beside the ocean with a laughing woman in his arms, with the biggest, dopiest looking grin Sans had ever
seen on anyone. He looked like a completely different person in those photos, and Sans nearly didn't recognize him without the color of his hair and the ear piercing. The blonde haired woman was in several of the other photographs as well, eating at an outside diner with Blake, one with the pair of them on a park bench and sharing an ice cream.
Cute couple. Why'd he never mention her…?
And then Sans found the clipped out old news article. It was crumpled as if it had been rolled into a ball many times, but Sans could still read it clearly, and it made him a little ill as it occurred to him. Blake had mentioned her.
Shark Attack on the Coast.
He sighed quietly and replaced everything in the box, wordlessly putting everything back the way it was. That had been… relatively morbid. He had been looking for clues, and lo and behold, he had actually found one. Not the one that he was looking for, but a clue. Sans meandered over to the side of the bed, dropping to his knees and checking under the bed. There were a couple of dust bunnies hibernating, but that was about it. He frowned and stood, rubbing his aching back as he opened one of the dresser drawers.
"Okay, wow. That thing is huge," he closed the drawer immediately, blue dusting his cheeks. What a clue. Sans promptly straightened up and coughed awkwardly into his hand, blinking a few times. Okay, so, he wasn't finding as much as he'd like. He was almost afraid to check the other drawers, but fortunately all he found were some socks and undergarments. In the very bottom drawer he found a wrapped little box with a plain golden band in it. He sighed quietly and replaced it, taking one last look about the room. He had found out a couple of things. Some things that he'd rather not know. But instead he only wound up with no answers and more questions.
"Sans?"
Sans bolted upright suddenly, sweating heavily as he cleared his throat and exited Blake's bedroom, ensuring that he locked the door behind him.
"What's up, buddy?" Sans stuck his hands in his pockets, grinning at Frisk. They stood at the end of the hall with a confused little tilt to their head, frowning.
"What are you doing?"
"Looking for some ketchup," he shrugged as he stood before them. "Doesn't everybody have a ketchup stash?"
"Um. No?" Frisk blinked in confusion.
"Ah, it's alright. Guess I'll have to pick some up later," he shrugged nonchalantly. "Thought you were watching a movie?"
"You didn't come back…" Frisk looked at their feet, tucking their arms into their sleeves.
"I'm here now, kiddo," Sans patted them softly on the head with a smile. "You want some popcorn or somethin'?"
Frisk frowned and held their hands over their stomach, looking uncertain.
"U-um. S-Sans?"
"What is it, buddy?" he asked cautiously.
"My belly hurts again…" they said quietly. "Can… can I have it? Please?" Say no.
Say no.
Say no.
Say no.
Sans I swear to god if you fuck this up I'll KILL-
"You sure you don't wanna just watch the movie, kiddo?" Sans guided them by the shoulder back to the couch, dropping into the seat. "Come on, Frisk. I'll bet it's getting to the good part. Gaston is the good guy, right?"
"Sans," Frisk pleaded as they sat on their knees. "Please don't tease me."
"I'm not teasin' you, babybones," Sans said insistently. "J-just. Uh. Maybe it was that half a gallon of chocolate milk. Too much of a good thing is bad for you, ya know?"
"Sans, please…?" they pouted, holding onto his shoulder with both hands. "Wasn't I good?"
"Frisk," Sans said, unable to keep the exasperation out of his voice. "C-c'mon. Don't do this to me right now, babybones."
"I-I just…" Frisk looked away abashedly, holding their hands over their stomach. "I-it hurts, Sans… it really hurts ."
"Hurts how?" he frowned, utterly ignoring the cheerful singing before them at this point.
"Like… it's too hot," they weren't able to meet his eyes. "It's l-like… like I'm hungry, but I'm not hungry for food."
Oh no.
"I have no idea what that means," he replied blankly.
"Sans, come on… !" they grabbed his hands slowly, giving him a pitiful pout. "I was good ."
"Frisk. Frisky-bits," he sighed and pulled them gently to him so that he could wrap his arms around them. "You are good. Okay? You're a good kid. But I-I… I just can't . Okay?"
Frisk looked ready to cry, but he just hushed them and held them a little tighter. He felt like he was dangling a treat in front of a kicked puppy. It was a horrid feeling, and there was a tightness in his chest that wouldn't go away. Why couldn't they just understand? Why didn't they get that asking him for things like that was slowly killing him? He couldn't do it. Even if it made them feel better, he just couldn't .
"… Okay," Frisk said at last, and Sans couldn't hold back the sigh of relief. "Okay, Sans."
"Good," he breathed heavily in relief, petting their hair and closing his eye sockets for a moment. He resisted the urge to collapse then and there. But he had done it, he'd put his foot down. Finally.
"Let's… let's just watch the movie. Okay, kiddo?"
"Okay, Sans."
"You… you feelin' alright?"
"Okay, Sans."
He frowned when he looked at them, but it swiftly melted off his face when he saw just how utterly dejected they were. They looked like they had just watch their favorite toy get broken. Sans kicked himself internally, sighing and closing his eyes again when Frisk finally let go. He wasn't surprised that they might be upset with him. But they had to understand. He just… couldn't .
They had to understand that he was only doing what was best for them. He knew what was best for them anyway, right? He tried to clear his mind to keep himself calm, taking a few deep breaths. Yeah. It would be fine. He just had to let his eye sockets rest and remain firm in his judgment. But the guilt was overwhelming enough. He couldn't shake out that awful, pained look they had given him.
Sans tried to speak a couple of times before finally cracking his eye sockets open, only to discover that Frisk was nowhere to be found.
"… Frisk?" Sans bolted off the couch in panic, throwing out a magical pulse to sense them. Odd choice, he thought to himself. He was instinctively reaching for magic instead of logically searching around for them, but he found them regardless in the kitchen with their back against one of the lower cabinets, slumped and chugging heavily from a liquor bottle.
God fucking dammit I'm gonna KILL Blake for not putting a lock on the alcohol!
Sans swiped the bottle away from them and they cried out as they reached for it, woozily trying to stand before crumpling to their knees.
"Shit," he ran a hand over the top of his head. "Shit, shit kiddo, how much did you just drink ?"
"'nough," Frisk slurred heavily. He dropped to his knees in front of them to try to help them sit up, and he saw that their eyes were half lidded and there was a small smile on their lips. Their breath stank of liquor and he kicked himself again, god he was such an idiot . Couldn't he take his eye sockets off of them for five goddamn seconds?
Apparently not. Bonehead.
"… H-hey," Frisk dizzily lifted their hand to brush over his cheek, smirking at him. "I'm n-not a good kid n-now. You should pun~ish me."
"Kiddo, you are drunk off your ass," Sans said miserably as they felt his cheeks with clammy hands. "Oh, Christ on a bike, Paps is gonna freakin' kill me."
"P'pyrus doesn't have to know…" Frisk ever so slowly crawled until they were on his lap, wrapping their arms around his neck.
Papyrus doesn't have to know.
Papyrus doesn't have to know.
… But 'I' would know.
… I'd know.
Sans's thoughts were interrupted, which he found was becoming a bad habit of losing himself in his head. It took him a full beat to realize that Frisk was kissing him, letting out a quiet little moan as they did so.
His bones were almost on fire, he could feel magic pounding in his head and oh god please tell me this isn't happening.
Papyrus doesn't have to know..
Papyrus doesn't have to know..
Papyrus doesn't have to know.
… God help me for what I'm going to do. Frisk is going to hate me forever.
Sans grabbed them roughly by the shoulders, making them gasp as he fell into a shortcut. They closed their eyes, shivering in anticipation against him with that delirious little smile still on their face.
And then he swiftly turned on the cold water to the shower, eliciting the most ear piercing shriek he'd heard from them in a while.
"Not in my house, kid," Sans growled deeply as they tried to push and kick drunkenly away from him, to no avail as they were both completely doused with icy water. "Not in my house."
"Come on, kiddo. Don't wanna get any more in your hair."
Frisk responded by vomiting rather violently into the toilet. Sans sighed quietly, holding their hair back as they both dripped frigid water onto the floor. How had it come to this? What had he done wrong?
Actually, that was a stupid question to ask himself and he was stupid for asking it, the proper question would be what had he done right ? That list was significantly shorter.
There were so many things that he should have done differently. So many ways that he should have been better. And he was trying, god help him he was trying . Why did trying have to be so hard ?
"There you go, buddy. Get it all outta your system."
"Why ?" Frisk choked, sputtering incoherently as they spat into the toilet.
"Because you are ten and alcohol is not good for you," he answered plainly. Frisk only shook their wet head, hair flipping back and forth.
"Why?" they blubbered, wiping their bloodshot eyes with one hand as they steadied themselves on their knee with the other.
"Trust me," Sans continued rubbing their back in concentric circles. "You'll thank me."
"Why would I thank you?" Frisk sobbed. They looked so crushed . So upset. He loathed himself for the thoughts running rampant through his head, for the burning ache in his bones, trying instead to focus on helping them empty the tank.
"Because," Sans retorted. "If I had just - I mean, if we… Christ," Sans ran his other hand over his head nervously. "What am I tryin' to say. Just… just trust me."
"Don't you love me?" Frisk whispered miserably. Sans recoiled as if he had just been backhanded. To be honest, he would have preferred it to the absolutely scything pain shooting through his chest.
"Of course I love you, babybones," Sans answered softly, petting the back of their head as they swiveled on their knees. "I… I'm sorry that this… that it's so hard. I, uh… I didn't know you… didn't have a gag reflex."
"It's fine," Frisk mumbled, brushing their hair uselessly out of their eyes. "I'm sorry."
"If you're sorry then you can prove it to me by not doing that again," Sans couldn't keep the anger out of his voice, and they flinched. Sans sighed and mentally kicked himself, pulling them close and hugging them gently as if they were made of glass. "Shit . I just… god . I'm… I'm so worried about you, Frisk. You can't freak me out like that."
"Is it because I had a grown up drink?" Frisk frowned, wiping their lip with their sleeve.
"Yeah that too," Sans shifted uncomfortably as they sat in his lap, holding onto his hands for dear life. "I'm just… goddammit. Goddammit, " he sighed again. "I… I'm just… scared . I guess. I dunno what to do. I keep actin' like I do, and I don't. I don't know how to fix this, I feel like I'm in over my head."
Frisk whimpered and buried their head into his chest, and he leaned back against the cold tub and closed his eye sockets. He was so tired . This kid was emotionally exhausting day in, day out. But he'd keep going. He would keep going, he would try, he would keep going no matter what. Frisk shivered in their wet clothes, and he hugged them a little tighter. But it was so hard just to maintain himself for a day. How was he supposed to keep going like this? It hurt. Everything hurt.
"I'll be good," Frisk whispered, sounding on the verge of tears again. "I'm sorry. I'm s-sorry, I'm sorry Sans-"
"Listen, kiddo-"
"I'm sorry," they wept into his shoulder, shaking terribly. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry please don't throw me away… !"
Sans felt sick to the stomach, and he squeezed them tightly.
"Hey. Hey, shh. C'mon," he rubbed their back softly. "Listen. Look at me. Look at me, babybones," he tilted their head up with his thumb, looking them in the eyes as tears rolled down their cheeks. "I will never, ever do something like that to you. You're my kid. My little babybones," Sans said as he held the trembling child tenderly. "I will take care of you. No matter what it takes. I promise."
"… I love you, Sans," Frisk hid their red face in his jacket.
"I love you too, babybones," Sans hushed them quietly. They just sat there for the longest time, and they hugged him tightly the entire time like he was the only thing keeping them from slipping away. Sans knew the feeling. He wanted to hold onto them just as tightly, but there had been more than he meant in his words. He was scared. He was downright terrified. He was scared for Frisk. He was scared of losing them.
He was scared of himself.
What was he supposed to do in a situation like this? How was he supposed to handle this? What was the right thing to do?
"If… if things had gone any other way…" Sans tried to explain through the lump in his throat. "I-I mean. If-if you - what I mean to say is, if-if I… Christ," Sans squeezed his eye sockets and hugged them, swallowing dryly. "I dunno what to do, kiddo. I just… I don't know what to do anymore."
"… Sans."
"Yeah, Frisky-bits."
"I don't feel good."
"I can't say I'm surprised," he petted the back of their head. "You're gonna have fun with that with the dinner party thing tonight."
Frisk whined pathetically, but he only shook his head.
"Consider it punishment," he stated evenly. "You get to spend all night with a hangover . You know. What with it bein' a terrible punishment having a nice dinner with people that love you."
Frisk sighed and closed their eyes, resting their forehead against his shoulder. They shivered again and Sans squeezed them around their shaking shoulders.
"Crap," Sans frowned. "Do… do you even have any other clothes?" Frisk didn't speak, but they did slowly shake their head slowly.
"Great. That reminds me, we've gotta get you a whole wardrobe. What kind of clothes do you even like to wear, kiddo?"
"Can… can I have something with kitties on it?"
"Whatever you want, babybones," Sans kissed their wet forehead softly.
"Thank you for not hurting me."
Ah, there was that sucker punch to the gut feeling again.
"Why would I do that?" he tried to keep his hands from shaking, and pretended that it was just from the cold.
"If I was bad my old dad used to lock me in a box-"
Frisk's mouth slammed shut immediately and their face flushed deeply, and they looked away, ashamed that they had let too much slip. Sans's breath caught in his chest and he ever so gently pressed their face against his chest so that they wouldn't see the absolutely boiling fucking rage overwhelming his features.
"… Nobody is ever, ever gonna hurt you," he swore in a quiet, shaking voice as he hugged them tightly, noting just how badly Frisk was trembling. "Not ever, ever again. I swear to god, babybones. I won't let anything bad happen to you. Okay?"
Frisk let out a distressed, high pitched whine as they covered their eyes, and Sans felt as though his bones were on fire.
He couldn't get the image of the scars out of his mind.
Of how they flinched every time that he rose his hand a little too quickly.
Of that damned mark.
God help him if he ever found the demented bastard that hurt his little babybones he was going to rip their black heart out with his bare hands and fucking eat it in front of them.
"I'm sorry," Frisk whispered for the twelfth time. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry I didn't mean t-to, p-please don't be mad… !"
"Shh. It's okay. It's okay, babybones…" Sans hushed them gently. He didn't want to let them pull their forehead from his chest until he could get some manner of control over his own face again. He didn't want them to see just how furious he was. He had to stay calm . He had to stay calm, he knew full well what happened when he panicked. When he got angry. He closed his eye sockets and steadied his breathing, just petting the back of their head softly and trying to recount the acceleration due to gravity of a falling object.
Had to keep his mind occupied. He could have time to rage later.
Right now, his kid was shaking and crying, probably freezing half to death and wondering why he had fallen so deathly silent.
"Okay," Sans said after a while, standing with Frisk in his arms. They clung to him around his neck, face still glued to his chest. "Okay, babybones. Here's what we're gonna do. We're going to go get our clothes in the dryer. We're gonna sit down and have some hot chocolate. And we're gonna watch a movie until we've got you something nice and warm to wear, and we aren't going to so much as think about… uh. W-what happened. I'm doin' you a favor here. Let's just… pretend that this didn't even happen. Sound good?"
"O-okay. Okay, Sans."
"Good," he said with no small measure of relief as he carried them to the laundry room. "Good. Come on, babybones. Everything will be okay. It's gonna be alright. C'mon, Frisky-bits."
The entire time Sans had to ignore the feeling of eyes on the back of his head. Like someone was watching from the shadows.
He could feel that awful smirk.
"I'm tellin' ya, Gaston is definitely the good guy."
"How is he the good guy?" Frisk threw out their arms toward the television where the animated character led a group of people carrying torches. "He's a jerk !"
"Yeah, but some people like jerk-y guys," Sans shrugged, shifting his towel so that it was wrapped more tightly around his waist. Frisk had a massive pink towel wrapped around their entire body, just their head and their little hands poking out as they held a half empty mug of steaming hot chocolate in their hands. Sans held his own mug in between his legs, hands folded neatly behind his head with his folded jacket as a makeshift pillow as he reclined on the sofa beside them. "I'm tellin' ya. He'd be the good guy."
"But Beast is the good guy!" Frisk said in distress, pulling at their damp hair. "Just look at him, Sans! He's so fluffy!"
"Take a breather, kiddo," Sans chuckled and shook his head. "I know that. I'm just sayin', in literally any other movie, Gaston would be the good guy. I'm mean, he's suave, he can sing, he's handsome, he's ripped as all hell. Like my god did you see those abs? He's practically a walking hero trope. I'm tellin' ya, by the end of this movie he's either gonna be the hero or be totally dead."
"Don't say things like that…" Frisk mumbled, burying their face in their towel. Sans sighed and rubbed the top of their head, and although they flinched for a moment they eventually leaned into his touch, giving him a tiny smile. "Please?"
"Alright, alright," Sans shook his head. "Guess I am bein' kind of a Debbie Downer, huh."
"It's okay, Sans. I forgive you for being a grumpypuss."
"Is that a swear word?" Sans cocked a skeletal eyebrow at them, making them titter lightly. "Because that totally sounds like a swear word."
"Forgive?"
"No, kid. Grumpypuss."
"Swear jar," Frisk stared at him with a blank expression.
Sans stared back.
Then he started giggling along with them, covering his mouth and grinning widely. They were talking again. They were laughing again. He just wanted to stay like this for a while. He wanted them to be happy. He just wanted them to have a chance to live. Was that really so much to ask for?
"… Sans?"
"What's up, Frisky-bits?" Sans tilted his head a little toward them.
"My-my belly still hurts."
… Goddammit. I just wanted one day. That's all I wanted. Just one single happy day.
"That's why you're supposed to avoid alcohol," Sans answered quietly, not shifting from his spot. Frisk just frowned and rubbed their stomach, looking at him pleadingly.
"Can… can you make me feel better? P-please…?"
All you have to do is say no.
That would be the smart thing to do. That would be the right thing to do.
All you have to do is say no.
It would be so easy
Say no.
Say no.
What would Papyrus think?
Papyrus doesn't have to know.
I would know.
Say no.
Say no.
Say no.
SAY NO.
He didn't want to have the horrid thoughts that he did. Thank god Frisk couldn't read minds. He really was an abomination. He wasn't even a proper monster. He was just repressed. Sure. That's all it was. He didn't need Gaster's words haunting him. That bastard was dead, worse than dead, he was gone and he wasn't going to ruin their lives anymore. Sans didn't want to ruin their life. They were already so hurt. So frail. So fragile. Even a single wrong word could ruin them. He had to be careful with his words. He had to be on guard for everything that he said, everything that he did. He was so tired. He just wanted a break from the crazy for a little bit.
"Sure you don't wanna just watch the movie?" he asked, trying to keep the pleading tone out of his voice.
"Please, Sans…" Frisk gently placed their hands over his bare chest, fingertips ever so gently grasping his ribs. Sans had to fight to keep his breathing in check, suddenly wishing that he was wearing more than just a towel. "I'll… I'll be good for you. I can be good. Please. I just… I just need it. Please, Sansy… d-don't make me beg."
"C-c'mon, kiddo…" Sans started uncomfortably. God he needed his clothes back, he felt too… exposed all of a sudden. "T-those ribs are kinda sensitive. Mind… mind letting go?"
"Please…?" Frisk pouted up at him, their towel slipping around their shoulders. "Please Sans. I'll be good. I just… I just wanna feel better."
"S-seriously buddo," Sans was sweating nervously by this point, doing his absolutely best to remain stock still. Why did they have to keep doing this to him? Couldn't they tell that they were slowly tearing him apart from the inside out? He had to be careful. He needed to be careful, he had narrowly avoided disaster and now it was looming in his face again and god what was he supposed to do?
"I… I'm sorry," Sans found his voice coming out in a soft whisper. "I just… I just can't, babybones. Please, don't… don't do this to me. I'm beggin' ya here."
"I'll be good…" Frisk gently ran a thumb over his ribs, and he shivered.
Oh fuck.
Oh shit, oh fuck, oh no.
"T-tell you what," Sans started slowly, gently peeling their fingertips away from his ribs and looking them in the eyes, unable to discern what kind of strange expression that they wore. "Tell ya what. Howhow 'bout I… give you somethin' else."
"You… you mean, like… a doggie treat?"
"Yeah sure," Sans carefully drew their hands downward until they were no longer touching him, and he couldn't help but breathe wearily in heavy relief. "Sure. One biscuit, comin' up. Just… just don't do that to me."
"Do what?" Frisk blinked uncertainly.
Oh my god are you fucking serious . Don't fuck this up. Whatever you do, for the love of god, do NOT fuck up. Don't. For once in your miserable life just do not be a fuckup. It's not that hard. Anyone can do it. Papyrus does it all the time. Just avoid fucking up for five goddamn minutes-
Sans simply sighed and reached into his jacket, drawing out a single dog biscuit. He dug around for a few moments before he pulled out his old flip lighter, lighting the biscuit and taking a very long, much needed drag before passing it to Frisk. He sighed with a puff of smoke circling his head. Frisk tried to take a puff and coughed, spluttering. Sans only shook his head and readjusted their towel so that it covered them properly, sighing again.
Moron. You can't keep it together for five seconds, let alone minutes. Why did you ever think you could be good?
"Okay," Sans said after a little bit of watching them suck down smoke. They tried to blow a smoke ring like he could but only wound up blowing smoke out their nose, causing them to sneeze. He took the biscuit back and finished it off, already feeling dizzy and lightheaded and thankfully so much calmer. "Okay, babybones. We… we gotta set down some ground rules. Okay?"
"Rules?" Frisk blinked at him, their eyes a little bloodshot. "And, um. T-thank you, Sans. I feel… a little better."
"Belly still hurt?" Sans asked quietly. They nodded a couple of times, looking away abashedly. He only patted their head, closing his eye sockets for a moment before taking a long, deep breath. He had to keep it together. He needed to be in control. Just that thought made his stomach churn.
"Alright," he continued after a moment of silence. "Okay. So, uh. We need to talk."
"What do you wanna talk about?" Frisk took his hand in theirs, running their fingers over his phalanges experimentally.
"You've… I mean, I-I… I can't… I mean, we can't be t-… dammit.
Goddamn this is hard."
"How hard?" Frisk gave him a sly little grin.
"Don't," he deadpanned humorlessly, causing them to flinch. Even he didn't like the sound of his own tone. "Just… trust me, babybones."
"I do trust you, Sans…" Frisk slowly looked him in the eye sockets, their face neutral. "I trust you more than ever."
For some reason, that… warmed him in the chest, just a little bit. He felt like his soul was melting. He just wanted to hug them, to hold them, to tell them that everything would be okay. He didn't want to want anything else than that. God he was so twisted, so vile . Didn't they realize that? Didn't they know what kind of monster he was by now? A murderous, violent creature, impulsive and vicious? He was supposed to protect them. What if he wound up making things worse by telling them what he really meant? What if he wound up hurting them? They were already hurting, so much. They'd been through more than most anyone he'd met. He had to protect them. He had to make it better. He had to try .
"Okay," Sans rubbed the top of their head gently. "Okay. Jeeze. How do I say this." he ran a hand
over his skull nervously, uncertain of just how to phrase what he meant. "Babybones. I'm… I'm not… good for you."
"Yes you are," Frisk rubbed their cheek against his sternum, smiling softly. "You're the best, Sans."
Oh god, it hurt. It hurt, it hurt, it ached so badly. How had his soul gone from soaring so high to feel like it was crumbling apart moments later? Didn't they realize what they were doing to him? Didn't they realize what he was?
Did they even care?
… And if they didn't care…
Why should he?
Sans sighed again and closed his weary eye sockets, holding them close.
"Listen to me, babybones," Sans continued ever so slowly. "I-I'm not a good… we just can't… I-I mean, to-togeth… fuck. Just… fuck," he gave up entirely in grunted exasperation at himself. Why was it so hard to say what he wanted? "I… don't know how to fix this. I'm tryin' my damnedest, but I am so lost. I don't know what to do. I don't know how to fix this, I don't know how to be better for you and it scares me shitless. I've gotta be better. I-I can't… hurt you, babybones."
"You aren't hurting me, Sans," Frisk gently took his downcast face in their hands, giving him a level look. "You're a good person. I trust you. I love you so much, Sans."
Sans choked a little and hugged them carefully, letting them snuggle their face against his chest as he sighed.
"I love you too, babybones. I'm gonna make everything better. I'm gonna fix everything. Somehow. I promise."
"… Sans."
"Yeah, babybones."
"I still feel… weird."
"I'm sorry I can't do more," he rubbed their back in little circles.
"Just… just try to get through today. Okay? That's all you gotta do. The king needs you to be in top shape. Monsters need you to be their ambassador. God, I can't believe you're a freakin' ambassador," Sans breathed heavily as he hugged them. "You're… you're gonna do great. Just get through today. One day at a time, that's all you gotta do. Okay?"
"Okay, Sans." "… Frisk."
"Yeah, Sans."
"Seriously, you've got to stop grabbin' my ribs like that," he shifted nervously, feeling too sweaty.
"Why?"
"It's… a very, uh… w-well, for skeletons, it's-it's kinda… um. Well, you see, it's…"
"Intimate?" Frisk asked soflty.
"Close enough," he tried to pry their fingers away, but they grabbed a little tighter, causing him to gasp a little as they looked him in the face. "… Okay. Okay no that's it. Fun's over. Seriously kiddo. You're… you're freakin' me out a little. Just trust me, kiddo. You're playin' a real fuckin' dangerous game here. "
Frisk blinked and seemed to realize what they were doing, releasing him immediately and flushing deeply, looking away. Sans took a few steady breaths, his mind feeling heavy.
This kid is gonna give me a goddamn heart attack.
"S-sorry…" Frisk mumbled, covering their heated face with their hands. "I… I dunno why I-I did t-that…"
"Just… chill out for a sec, kiddo."
"I just… I just…" Frisk stuttered, looking at him pleadingly. "You make me feel better. I j-just… wanted to make you feel good, too."
Their soft hand on his burning bones - nope. Not today. He couldn't.
He just couldn't. Sans had to fight the urge to be suddenly ill. He couldn't think about it. It wasn't a problem if he didn't think about it. Their gentle, searching and curious embrace, the tainted taste of alcohol and oh god maybe I do have a problem.
Oh shit. Oh shit, oh fuck, oh god. This is bad. I'm horrible. This is bad, this is so completely fucked.
Sans took a slow, shuddering breath, pulling them into a light hug. He was too tense. They felt so… fragile. So delicate, so easily breakable.
You didn't have a problem breaking them before-
"… Tell you what," Sans said after a while of simply holding them. "I'll bet our clothes are about done. What do you say we ditch this place for a bit and go get some nice cream, huh?"
"O-okay," Frisk swallowed and rubbed their stomach uncomfortably. "Okay, Sans."
"Alright," he said with a huge sigh of relief. "C'mon, buddy. Everything is gonna be okay. I swear to you, kiddo. I'm gonna make everything better."
From the shadows in the corner of the room he watched, silently wondering if Sans could really tell that he was there. He seemed to glance over in his direction every now and then, and it made him smile. He was doing what he always did when confronted with something that he didn't know how to handle. Running away.
That was good.
It meant that he was finally smart enough to know danger when he saw it.