Worst Laid Plans
Chapter 41: Worst Laid Plans
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
As far as happy campers went, Frisk was not necessarily one of them.
Sans was, for lack of a better word, completely overjoyed that Frisk didn't seem to hate him nearly as much as he feared that they would. They didn't speak at all as they walked, but nor did they release their grip on his hand. Sans kept his hood down and let the early afternoon breeze waft over his head, whistling a little through his teeth as they walked. Frisk looked up at him nervously every now and then, checking over their shoulder every time that they passed someone, but most people tended to quicken their pace or alter their path whenever they saw him in particular. Several pretended to ignore him completely as they hurried by, but that was fine. He didn't really want unwanted attention anyway, that was just asking for trouble.
"… Where are we going?" Frisk finally asked, their voice gentle on the breeze and almost carried away by it.
"Looks like the busier section of town," Sans answered quietly. "Can't ya smell the food in the air? I'll bet someone around here has got nice cream."
Sans brought Frisk through a crowded section of the city as more and more people started to crowd around them and more of them either ignored them or started snapping hurried photographs, and Frisk warily hugged tightly to his side, peering nervously from person to person. He was regretting this already. He squeezed their hand a little, smiling down at him, and they took a brave breath and nodded once. They really were a tough kid. He could tell that they were having a hard time with so many other people around. He could have easily just located that supermarket thing and found some. According to Papyrus they had literally everything imaginable. How had humans managed to live with so much and still look so cranky all the time? A couple of shortcuts through convenient alleys proved fortunate enough. It didn't tire him nearly as much to take shorter little hops through existence.
Still left him feeling like something unpleasant was clinging to his shoulder though.
Plenty of strange and exotic scents wafted through the air as the pair passed street vendors either displaying their wares or promptly retreating afterwards. Sans tried not to mind that the whole terrified human thing was getting a bit old. They walked and walked for what must have been nearly another half an hour before Sans arrived at a street vendor with an icebox on wheels, the bald man with little glasses staring at him as they approached. Surely that was a sign that he had nicecream. Sans gave him a little wave before approaching this one and the human started, blinking rapidly and looking around as if he were expecting someone to tell him that it was all just a joke. But at least he wasn't running in the opposite direction or spouting some things he didn't want Frisk to hear.
"Yo," Sans grinned up at him. "How's it goin', buddy?"
"U-uh. Hi. I mean, h-hullo," the bald man blinked again, staring down at them. "You, uh… one o' them monsters?"
"Could be," Sans shrugged before patting his belly a couple of times. "Or I could be several, from a gut like this."
The man outright snorted and covered his mouth with the back of his hand, doing a poor job of hiding his grin.
"What can I get for ya, pal?" he asked with a small smile, looking back and forth between the worried child and the skeleton.
"Do humans have nicecream?" Sans asked. "I'm kinda new around here."
"I, uh, dunno what nicecream is…" he said slowly. "I got gelato though."
"I have no earthly idea what that is," Sans answered flatly. The man only gave him a blank, empty stare for a few moments before digging a couple of small plastic bowls out of the cart, handing them to him with a grin.
"Tell ya what, pal. I got a couple o' perfectly good ones here for five bucks."
"Will this cover it?" Sans dropped a few gold coins into the man's outstretched hand. He wasn't even certain of what the going rate for gold was among humans. He'd have to ask Papyrus later.
"Uh. Wow. Oh, wow," the man began blinking rapidly again, weighing the metals in his hand. "Y-yeah. That'd about do it."
"Cool," Sans pointed at the gelato with a grin.
"… Was that supposed to be a pun?" he gawked at him.
"I'm unappreciated in my time-" Sans started to shrug with a smirk before he felt a sudden blow to the side of his head. He stumbled in pain and shock, barely registering Frisk's fearful yelp as the half empty soda can rolled at his feet.
"Go back where you belong, fucking freak!" the shrinking person screamed out of the car window as they sped past.
"Oi!" the man behind the cart darted from behind it, starting after the car a few steps as they sped away. "Come back 'ere and say that t'my face, ya sharktoothed cunts!"
I'm alive.
Someone hit me.
… And I'm alive.
He seemed to realize what he was doing a moment later before he knelt beside Sans, helping him stand. Frisk clung to his hand desperately, one hand clapped over their mouth.
"You a'ight there, pal?" the man kicked the dented can away. "Fockin' pricks."
"Fine," Sans lied, rubbing the side of his aching head in disbelief. "I got a hard head, anyway. Gonna take a lot more than that to get through to me, pal."
Why am I not dead-?
The man glowered in the direction that the car had gone, letting out a quiet sigh as people silently passed by the display. No one said anything about it. None of them seemed shocked. Nobody else stopped to help. They just… ignored him. A single human snapped a picture with their phone before hurrying along. Sans felt suddenly much more vulnerable for some reason. It was like the entire world was blind to his passing.
"Frankie."
"What?"
"Frankie," the man repeated, dusting his hands and crossing his arms. "You sure you're alright there?"
"I'm just dandy," Sans lied through his teeth again, the initial shock of the pain already wearing off as the pounding in his head began to set in.
"… Look, Mister Dandy," Frankie patted himself down after a moment. "I, uh. Pal. You kinda… overpaid me. Just a tad."
"It's fine," Sans shrugged as Frisk tugged at his hand, looking very much like they wanted to hide behind him instead. It was getting hard to think clearly. "Really."
Frankie looked as if he wanted to say something else, but instead shook his head slowly.
"Just, eh… don't go showin' any o' that stuff y'got to anybody, a'ight?" Frankie frowned slightly. "Some guys might, eh, y'know. Not go givin' ya a fair deal. Y'get me?"
"Thanks for the heads up," he pointed at the side of his aching head, and Frankie gave a small grin again.
"Hey, least I can do fer a payin' customer," he shook his head again. "Just be careful out there. A'ight, pal?"
"No problem," Sans gave him a weak thumbs up. He wanted to rest so badly, he felt so tired. His head was positively screaming at this point, but he didn't want to worry Frisk, who had already dropped their gelato in the incident. Frankie seemed to notice this and held up a finger for them to wait, digging out a fresh chocolate treat from the cart and handing it to them. Frisk hesitantly took it and nodded in thanks, and he just nodded back.
"Don't let nobody go givin' ya a hard time," Frankie dusted his hands again. "The way I see it, folks are folks, monsters or no. Got jus' as much right t'be out n' about as anybody else. Take care o' yourselves out there, a'ight?"
"… Thanks, man," Sans said quietly after a moment, smiling quietly.
"Ayy, no worries."
Frankie even gave them both a double thumbs up as they walked away, along with a dopey grin. Sans shook his head and gave a weak chuckle. Maybe some people didn't want monsters around, but people like that were nice to come by. Granted, he didn't have nicecream, but it wasn't all bad.
"… A-are you o-okay?" Frisk asked softly, just loudly enough for him to hear as they walked.
"Just a bit of a headache, don't worry," he said a little too quickly. "Hey. Kiddo. My legs are killin' me, and I'm super lazy. You wanna take a shortcut back?"
Frisk looked at him worriedly before nodding a couple of times, checking over their shoulder again. Sans carefully led them into a slim dark alley, ensuring that no humans were around to watch them vanish into the air.
Someone, however, most certainly was watching the entire time.
"Okay," Sans said quietly as he ever so slowly released Frisk's hand, feeling quite a bit dizzy as they stepped through nothing into the apartment. "Okay. I'm… I'm just gonna… sit down for a sec."
"Sans…?" Frisk asked tentatively, shifting their cold treat from hand to hand. "… Does… does it hurt?"
"Like a jackhammer on my head," he answered before mentally kicking himself. They looked so worried, so upset. He didn't need to go making them feel worse about it, he should have just kept his mouth shut or lied and told them that he was fine. But something in him felt… greasy at the thought of lying to them. Lying used to be so easy. It was just a thing that he did. A normal, everyday occurrence. What is this kid turning me into.
"I just gotta put some ice on this or something," he said swiftly. "Oh, golly gee. What do you know," he grinned as he held up his gelato, pressing the cold container to the side of his head. "Isn't that convenient."
"Sans…" Frisk frowned, but he simply shook his head and gave them a light little hug.
"Fuhgeddaboudit," Sans forced a grin. "Ol' Sansy will be fine. It doesn't hurt too bad. I can't hold this on here for too long though, or I'll really be a numbskull."
Frisk didn't laugh, but he didn't object as they led him to the couch. Sans dropped into his usual spot as Frisk clambered up with a little difficulty with one hand. He felt his hand start slipping as his eye sockets began to droop in exhaustion. Frisk was quick to catch the treat, holding it gently to the side of his head.
"… You're the best, kiddo," Sans sighed quietly. Was his voice slurring? He couldn't tell. It was hard to remember what he had just said. Why wasn't he dead? He felt like he should be dead for some reason, but couldn't recall why. He was just so weary. So burned down to the nub. So drained. So tired. On some level Sans knew that it was probably a bad idea to be taking a nap, but he really couldn't help it. He could hear Frisk saying something, but he couldn't quite make out what. All he could really see as he drifted away was-
-that goddamned smirk.
"It's been a while, hasn't it, Sans?"
"Fuck you," Sans replied with a grin at the specter before him, flipping him the bird.
"Come now, Sans. Let's be adult about this."
"Fuck you with a barbed wire dildo," he continued without missing a beat, staring down the shifting skeletal figure in the dark as he gave him the finger with both hands this time.
"Sans, really. I just want to talk -"
"Out your ass, like you usually do," Sans stuck his hands in his pockets, knowing full well that he had no pockets to place his hands in. Where even was he, anyway? It was so dark he could barely see at all. "Which must be hard. Y'know. What with all those barbed wire dildos you'll be using. In your ass. When you go fuck yourself."
"You always did have a bit of a potty mouth."
"And you're a stupid doo doo head."
That, at the very least, seemed to have Gaster slightly stunned. Sans knew it wasn't a good idea to try to make him angry. But he didn't care anymore. If he irritated him, even in the slightest, then he had won, and they both knew it. Playing Gaster's game was at best a waste of time, and at worst unspeakable disaster for everyone involved. So he could just do what he did best.
Sans wasn't just an idiot as a hobby, he was an idiot by trade.
"Whassa matter?" Sans grinned at him, the skeleton's smirk slowly fading. "Feeling a little flabbergastered?"
"I really do just want to speak with you for a bit," Gaster clasped his hands together, and for some reason they… chittered . Almost like his skeletal hands were like giant, rail thin spiders that just so happened to be attached to arms. His crescent eye sockets glimmered in the dark, like there were no lights in them at all and he could see through him into the darkness. "Let's be reasonable, Sans."
"You're right," Sans leaned back on his heels. "Logic dictates that the most reasonable course of action available is for you to go fuck yourself-"
Sans awoke suddenly and with a sharp start, the pounding in his head worse than ever. He felt sweaty, and sick, and heavy. His eye sockets felt like they wouldn't open properly like his, but he shook it off the next moment. He blinked a few times as he heard the door clicking open, and he groaned when he discovered that Frisk was laying with their head on his lap, their hands curled up underneath their head for comfort. They were also half coated in chocolate gelato from where they had apparently fallen asleep trying to hold both cups, and Sans sighed when he saw that it was all over his lap and hands as well.
"Seriously, kid?" Sans prodded them awake, making them yawn wearily. "We technically just got a bath.
"S-sorry…" Frisk mumbled, wiping their eyes. They looked as if they had been asleep on his lap
for much longer than he would have liked. "I'm sorry, I-I d-didn't mean to make a mess… !"
"Hey. Hey, c'mon," Sans rubbed the side of his aching head, rubbing the sticky top of theirs with his other. "It's okay, buddy. Don't freak out on me. We've just gotta get you cleaned up before company comes over. Man, we, uh… really made a mess of ourselves, huh."
"Sans," Papyrus stood over them with his hand and a half on his hips. "Do you mind telling me exactly what happened?"
"Hey," he pointed at the chocolate stains all over them. "If you think this is bad, you oughtta see my backside."
Frisk giggled furiously, earning a stern look from Papyrus.
"Frisk, if you laugh at his terrible jokes then he has no incentive to stop making terrible jokes," Papyrus sighed. "Why are you two coated in chocolate, anyway? And please, please tell me that's chocolate."
"Hey, y'know. We were hungry. Once you go snack, you never go back."
"Oh my god, Sans," Papyrus pinched the bridge of his nostril bone. "Nyeh. Go wash up, the both of you. I'll help get dinner ready. I really hope the mayor likes spaghetti."
"Aw, man? All over the couch?" Blake stood over them as he pulled at his ear ring as he entered the living room.
"Pro tip," Sans winked at him. "Be careful with laxatives."
Blake attempted to stuff a fist into his mouth to stifle his fit of intense giggles, his face beet red.
He was failing.
Terribly.
"You all have a horrible sense of humor!" Papyrus threw up his good arm in exasperation as he stomped away. "The queen and I are going to go make dinner. Go wash up already!"
"You got it bro," Sans gave him a wary thumbs up. It was then that he realized that Papyrus had returned almost as if he had forgotten something, giving him an odd look.
"… Sans," Papyrus began slowly. "… What happened to your head?"
"I slipped," Sans lied quickly. "No big deal. Doesn't even hurt anymore."
"Anymore," he responded quietly. "Implying that it hurt. What did you do?"
"T-told you," he shifted uncomfortably beneath his gaze. "Just slipped is all. Bumped my head. You know clumsy old me. I never was tough like you, I bruise like a peach. A really funny, clever, bony, handsome peach."
"Uh huh," Papyrus stated in obvious disbelief. "Hold still, Sans. At least let me heal that for you. Did you… oh stars . You… did you really take a nap with a concussion?"
"It's not a concussion," Sans tried to say swiftly as he attempted to woozily stand, but was gently pushed back down by his brother. Blake was staring at him worriedly, looking back and forth between them.
"That… that does look kinda like it hurts," he eyed the lump on Sans's head. "You want me to grab some ice or something?"
"I've got it covered," Papyrus informed him kindly. "Now, really Sans, be still . Good god you're lucky it's not cracked, what happened ? I said sit still, Sans!"
"Alright, Paps. Alright. Geeze," he rumbled awkwardly as Papyrus held his hand over the affected area. A sudden spark of vibrant green light swarmed down Papyrus's arm and through his gloved fingers, and Sans felt immediate relief. And… that was about it.
That raised a question.
Why did Frisk react to green magic the way that they did?
Did magic work differently on humans?
Sans cracked an eye socket as he stared at the stunned human gawking at them.
Hmm . Maybe he would have an opportunity to test that hypothesis.
"… Holy crap," Blake closed his open mouth quickly. "You-you can do that?"
"What?" Papyrus stood as he finished healing him, placing his hand on his hip. "Magic has a lot of uses."
"That is so cool…" he grinned at them. After a moment a sudden thought seemed to dawn on him and he clapped a hand to his forehead, the panic appearing to utterly overwhelm him. "Oh. Oh, crapbaskets, the mayor is going to be here in a few hours! The mayor, the freakin' mayor of Ebott is coming to my apartment… !"
Blake gazed over the living room for a moment. He looked at the unwashed plates, the clothes draped over some of the furniture, the wadded up papers that had been tossed in the floor. His shoulders sagged suddenly in disgust.
"… Oh, man, Richie is right, I am a slob," Blake cringed.
"What's wrong with that?" Sans asked, with a severely disapproving glare from his brother.
"Don't worry, human Blake," Papyrus clapped a hand to his shoulder. "Change of plans. You go work on dinner with the queen, I'll get started on cleaning the place up."
"R-really?"
"Yes, really," Papyrus insisted. "I feel much better when things are nice and tidy anyway, so it's no problem at all! Nyeh heh heh. This place will be spic and span before you know it."
"… Papyrus," Blake said in relief. "Has anyone ever told you that you're a walking antidepressant?"
"Nope, but there's a first time for everything."
"You're the best, Papyrus," Blake looked so happy that he was about to cry.
"Nyeh. I know. I practice. Now, chop chop!" he tried to clap his hands together before he realized what he was doing, quickly sticking down his stump arm and pointing with his other at the kitchen. "Somebody has to help the queen, we can't just make her do all the work herself!"
"Right, right!" Blake sputtered and took off in a bolt toward the kitchen.
Sans simply watched the display, gears in his head turning.
"… Sans."
"Yeah, Paps."
"Bath. You. In it. Now," he ushered them off the couch.
"Alright, alright, we're goin '…" Sans grumbled as Papyrus busied himself with carrying trash in his arm and a half. "… Hey. Where's Al and Undyne?"
"We talked about it," Papyrus said a little uncomfortably. "Mettaton is inviting them to his suite at the hotel. The Chitz, or something like that."
"He has a hotel suite?"
"Apparently humans really like Mettaton," Papyrus shrugged. "I mean, it's easy to see why. He's handsome, he's talented, he's funny, he's clever, he's hot-"
"Paps, you're describing me again."
"Ha and ha," Papyrus deadpanned, pointing down the hall. "Both of you. Bath time. Before the mayor and his scary lady wife get here! Skedaddle!"
Sans only laughed as Frisk grabbed him by the hand and took off at a brisk pace down the hall, padding barefoot the entire way.
Sans had almost managed it.
Between the business of their afternoon, seeing Papyrus again, getting ready for the dinner. He had almost managed to forget about their marks.
Until he saw them with his own eye sockets again.
He had to hold his breath and begin slowly counting backwards, closing his eye sockets and wiping his sticky hands on his shorts as he sat on the edge of the tub. He didn't need to go losing it in front of Frisk. Not again. He had to be responsible. They shuffled quietly in the bath, playing a bit with the massive amount of bubbles flowing in the hot water. All he had to do was stay calm. He wouldn't go getting angry. Not in front of the kid.
SLUT.
Sans wanted to shout, he wanted to scream, he wanted to rage and fight and rip until he stood over the corpses of whoever did this to his little babybones-
"Sans?"
"… Yeah," he let out a breath that he didn't realize he had been holding for far too long, and he felt a little dizzy. "Yeah. Yeah. Just… sorry, kiddo. Just… just got distracted is all." Frisk didn't ask by what.
"… Please," they gripped their arms in front of them tightly. "Um. SSans. Please don't s-stare at it."
"I-I wasn't - I didn't mean ta - shit," he ran a sticky hand over his head. "I-I'm sorry, babybones…" Sans said softly. "I… I just… a name ?" he asked desperately as he placed a hand gently on their bare shoulder. "That's… that's all I'm askin' for. Just their name."
Frisk didn't respond.
Goddammit.
He'd done it again, he'd pushed too hard, he'd gone too far and couldn't he make it ten minutes without fucking up?
He didn't need to go pressing the kid this close to their big dinner. What if he said something wrong and they shut down again like they did before? What if he couldn't keep his murderlust under control and kept pushing for a name until they stopped speaking altogether? He didn't need to go ruining the rest of their night. He didn't need to keep screwing things up for them. He didn't-
Frisk was licking his fingers.
Sans sat stock still on the side of the tub, unable to fully process what was happening. Frisk had their eyes half lidded as they slowly ran their tongue over his phalanges, gently lapping the chocolate off of his finger bones.
Don't fuck up.
Don't fuck up.
Do not fuck up.
Whatever you do, do not fuck up.
You can still salvage this.
Oh my fucking god what in the actual fuck am I doing with my life.
"… F-Frisk," Sans retracted his hand slowly, pulling his finger away from their mouth with a wet little pop. "I'm only gonna ask this once. What. In. The fuck ."
He was so tense, so stiff, so bewildered and bothered and still angry all at once, it was difficult to keep track of why he was blushing blue so hard or what he was even feeling or what to do with those feelings in the first place. Sans never had been good with feelings. He had been better with logic. And right now, the most logical course of action would be to stand up, quietly walk out of the room and maybe add in a couple of twirls for flair and never, ever think about it again.
But of course, he just had to be a professional idiot.
"W-what?" Frisk blinked, looking at him in confusion. "Y-you had, um.
C-chocolate."
Sans did not reply.
"… C-Chara really likes chocolate…" Frisk tried to explain, their face slowly reddening. "U-um. Really, really likes chocolate."
"Frisk," Sans carefully took in a shaking breath, feeling very much like he would like to simply fall over and never get back up. "I'm… I'm not mad."
He immediately knew that he had said the wrong thing, because it was very clear that he was mad and they were a bright kid and could tell when he was lying through his teeth. They flinched and started to hide under the soapy water, pulling in distress at their hair.
"What did I do?" Frisk whimpered. "I-I w-was good, I-I… !?"
"Frisk, no! " Sans spluttered, aghast. "That's not - I mean, you can't just - Christ on a bike, babybones," Sans ran a hand over the top of his head. There was still saliva on his fingers and he had to focus on something else as he wiped his phalanges on his rolled up jacket sleeves, focus on something else, literally anything else because he did not like the direction that the dark corners of his mind were pulling him.
What the fuck.
I just want one day.
What in the actual fuck.
"Okay," Sans began as he tried to calmly lather his hands in shampoo, failing on both accounts as it sieved through his shaking phalanges. "O~kay . We're… gonna put this behind us. Mmmkay? Mmmkay. We're gonna get cleaned up, we're gonna have a pleasant, family gathering, and then you and me are gonna have a nice, long chat about what defines 'good' behavior. Understood ?"
"I'm sorry," Frisk was crying by this point, and he gave up altogether on trying to get soap to lather properly as he gently pulled them through the water into a wet hug, petting their hair gently as their breathing rapidly came shallow and fast. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry please don't be mad I'm sorry I'm sorry I-I don't, I-I-I'm good, I'm good, I can be good… !"
"Shh. Hey. Hey, c'mon," he tried to say as soothingly as he could, despite his burning, rattling bones. "It's okay . Just… just breathe for me, babybones. I know. Take it one breath at a time. Hey. Hey. Do… do you know what this bone is called?" he pointed at his forearm. "This here, this is the radius . And this little guy is the ulna. This fella over here, is the humerus, and he's got a lot of bad skeleton puns stored up in him. Can you tell me the names I just told you for those bones?"
"R-radius…?" Frisk stuttered, looking away abashedly. "I-I, I can't…
!"
"Hey, shh. C'mon. It's okay. It's ulna. Right?" he pointed at the spot on his arm. "You've got one too. See your arm? It's kinda dullna, but it's fullna ulna."
He ever so gently lifted their arm and pressed his thumb against the spot.
"See? Ulna. And here's your humerus. It's only 'humerus' when it's tickled though. Don't get it confused with the funny bone."
"Where's the funny bone?" Frisk blinked at him, trying to dry their eyes with wet hands and failing spectacularly.
"You're lookin' at him," he grinned. Frisk only gave a raspy little bark and shook their head.
"Ayy, c'mon. I saw a smile in there," he said softly, petting their hair as tenderly as he could. "Come on. Let's go over some more bones. Humans are fascinating, we have very similar skeletal structure, it's incredible."
"I have lots of bones in me…" Frisk poked at their arm quietly.
Don't make the joke.
Don't say would you like another.
Don't say would you like another.
Don't say would you like another.
For fuck's sake I know it's just a joke but for once in your life be a responsible adult don't make the joke-
"Wh-y-l-nutha."
"What?" Frisk blinked at him.
"Nothing," Sans coughed into one hand awkwardly. "Had a hair on my tongue."
"… You have a tongue? Sometimes I forget."
"Well, yeah," he rolled his eyes and stuck out his blue tongue a long ways, waggling it back and forth, earning a shocked look from Frisk. "Wha-?" he snapped his tongue back in between his teeth. "What? You've never seen a skeleton with a tongue before? Pretty sure ya have."
"How do you wiggle it like that?" Frisk balked at him.
"Practice."
"What kinds?"
"The kinds I'm not comfortable discussing," he shifted awkwardly. He started to speak again when he noticed that Frisk was blushing deeply, looking away. "… Kiddo? You okay?"
"U-um. Sorry. Chara."
"What, they got somethin' to add?"
"Y-yeah."
"Well?" he rolled his hand through the air expectantly.
"I-I can't r-repeat that…" Frisk's brows furrowed deeply as they frowned. "Like… it was mostly just lots of bad words. And some… weird ones."
"Weird how?" Sans stared at them, asking against his better judgment.
"Sans? What's a cunnyli-"
"Oh my god!" he clapped a hand over their mouth, his face roaring heatedly as he tried to keep his voice down, desperately hoping that nobody overheard that. "So grounded! J-Jesus Christ, babybones. Uh. Uh. Wow. Okay. Wow," he released them and ran a wet hand over his head. "Fuck me sideways. Swear jar, definitely getting introduced as soon as possible."
This kid is going to put me in an early grave.
Blake was pacing back and forth in front of the door in a tie and dinner jacket with the odd choice of worn old jeans, picking and pulling nervously at his hair and ear ring the entire time. Sans sighed quietly and watched him pace from the couch, reclining with his hands behind his head.
"Oh god," Blake said for the twelfth time. "Oh Jesus Moses Krishna, he's gonna be here any minute, oh man… !"
"Dude," Sans waved a hand flippantly at him as Frisk curled up beside him, their tired eyes closed as they breathed softly. "Chill out for a second."
"I don't have time to chill," Blake stared at him for a moment. "The freakin' mayor of the city is coming to my apartment, oh my god I am not prepared for this and everything is hanging on the impression we leave on him and everyone is counting on me to be perfect and I can't mess this up oh god-!"
"Blake. Blake, buddy," Sans held up his hand, straitening up a little. "Think of it this way. Why get worked up about a mayor when you literally spend all day with a king ?"
"Y-yeah," he ran a hand through his hair nervously. "Uh… Huh. I… yeah, of-of course."
There was a rapid knocking at the door and Blake nearly jumped out of his skin, clearly sweating nervously.
"That's him!" he bolted to the door, patting himself down and straightening his dinner jacket. "Okay. Okay, everybody, just stay calm."
It appeared that Blake was the only one having difficulty remaining calm, and he whipped open the apartment door with a grin.
"Mayor McDonald!" Blake threw open his arms at the withered, white haired man. Sans stared at the old man for just a bare second. He could have sworn that he recognized him from somewhere. "Welcome to Casa del Roudy! Try the blooming onions, exchange your Disney bucks at the counter, please try the Blake shaped ice cream from the gift shop on the way out."
McDonald only laughed and shook his head, earning a searing glare from the pursed lipped silver haired woman standing beside him in a conservative pale blue dress, her arms crossed over her chest.
"It's good to see you again, Mister Roudy!" McDonald clapped him warmly on the shoulder a couple of times, beaming at him. "Good to see you! My, this place certainly is, er-hem… a bit smaller than I anticipated. Very quaint ."
"We've got enough room for everyone," Blake closed the door behind him as McDonald's wife glared around the apartment with a judgmental, almost invisible sneer. "Come on into the dining room, make yourselves at home. Me apartment-a es su apartment-a."
"It's very… homely," McDonald nodded after a moment, removing his black jacket and hanging it on the rack beside the door. "Is that garlic bread that I smell?"
"Oh! Hello!" Toriel stood in the kitchen doorway, removing a pair of large thick oven mitts. "How very nice to see you again, mister mayor. I'm so glad that you could join us for dinner."
"Please, call me Donald," he beamed at her as his wife glowered flatly at them. "It's really no trouble at all."
"Your name is Donald McDonald?" Sans asked as he gently woke Frisk, who rubbed their eyes warily as they sat up and stared at the newcomers. "You wouldn't happen to know a guy that sells burgers, would you?"
McDonald only smiled and shook his head.
"You'd be surprised at how often I hear that joke."
"What joke?" Sans blinked as he approached the couple, Frisk close in tow.
"It's quite alright," he extended a hand to the skeleton, which Sans shook warmly. "It's very nice to meet you, mister skeleton."
"Oh, please, mister skeleton was my father," Sans grinned at him. "Just call me Sans."
"Oh!" McDonald perked up suddenly, bobbing his head to his silent wife. "This is my lovely wife, Susan."
"Pleasure," she responded in a tone utterly dripping with sarcasm.
"Cool," Sans didn't bother trying to shake her hand. She looked as if she'd rather dip her hand in acid first. "Nice to meetcha. Whaddya say we grab some grub?"
"Dinner is finally ready!" Papyrus set out plates at the table, insisting that McDonald take the seat at the head of the table, with Asgore at his opposite end. "Everybody prepare your taste buds for the finest cuisine available."
"It does smell delightful," McDonald sniffed at the air for a moment. "And it's very good to see you again, King Asgore."
"Please, just Asgore," the king replied kindly as Papyrus set them all plates with spaghetti. Sans eyed the woman sitting quietly beside the mayor with a slight frown. She looked as if she would rather be literally anywhere else. Frisk squeezed his hand lightly and he petted them on the head as they sat at the table on one side, while Papyrus and Toriel sat on the other side. There was hardly enough room for everyone at the table, even with the extra foldable chairs that had been bought for the occasion.
Dinner with the mayor was… rather boring, Sans thought to himself. It was like the human was very invested in only discussing the blandest topics available, but maybe he was just trying to be courteous in some way? The spaghetti tasted strange, at first, and it took Sans a moment to realize that it was missing that familiar burned flavor. The mayor was very polite, if a bit overly cheerful, although his wife was completely silent almost the entire time. She was an uncomfortable woman to be around. Frisk threw them an odd glance every now and then until she eventually settled her sharp unblinking gaze on the child, and Frisk ducked their head a little and didn't look at them again. Surprisingly enough to Sans, Frisk even asked quietly for seconds, which Papyrus was only too happy to give them. Sans was beginning to suspect how much inclusion Papyrus must have had with the cooking.
"I think," McDonald patted his slightly rotund stomach after they had finished. "That was, quite possibly, the best spaghetti I have ever eaten in my entire life."
"Really?!" Papyrus's eyes were almost bursting with stars before he cleared his throat, unable to keep the enormous silly grin off of his face. "I-I mean, of course. Only the best for friends of human Blake. I'm very good with spaghetti, nyeh heh heh."
"You'll have to share your recipe sometime!" McDonald said with a smile, causing Papyrus to beam widely back at him.
"The garlic bread was alright," Susan said quietly. Sans almost expected her to not speak at all, as her voice was soft but clipped and tight, as if she didn't want to speak to them at all. McDonald, on the other hand, seemed absolutely ecstatic to pepper the king and queen with question after question. Most were pertaining to the breaking of the barrier, which Blake listened quietly to the entire time, a slight frown on his face. It was gone the next time Sans tried to inspect it however. McDonald cheerfully changed the topic every now and then, asking question after question about monsters, slightly growing more excited with every question. Asgore and Toriel politely answered everything that he wanted to know, and Sans sat through it all with Frisk beside him. Eventually McDonald asked the question that didn't have an easy answer, and Frisk squeezed his hand under the table. He rubbed his thumb over the back of their hand as gently as he could, smiling a little at them to let them know that he was there if they needed him.
"How exactly did the young ambassador to monsters come to be under Mount Ebott, if I may ask?" McDonald leaned back in his seat, turning his fork over his empty plate. Sans noticed that Susan had hardly touched hers at all, as though she didn't even need to eat.
"Frisk… fell," Sans answered quietly as they stilled suddenly. "Into the mountain. And then they came through the underground and saved every single monster there. That's about it," Sans shrugged at the odd look that the mayor was giving him. There again was that strange feeling that he knew him from somewhere, and just couldn't place where. Sans did not like the feeling of dejavu. "They're a really bright kid. Can't say I'm surprised somebody as cool as my kid could
pull it off."
Frisk blushed a little, looking away down at their knees.
"Your name was… Frisk, was it?" McDonald turned his attention to them. "She's not much of a talker, hmm?"
"They have a little trouble in front of others," Sans answered quietly.
"They?" he blinked before shrugging slightly. "Alright. All in all, I really would love to hear your side of such an incredible story, Frisk. What made you come to the mountain in the first place?"
"I wanted to be with my family," Frisk responded softly, giving San's hand a gentle little squeeze and smiling at him. He could feel his soul melting a little bit, just when he thought that they couldn't get any better.
"Kid, you're so sweet that you're givin' me diabetes," Sans chuckled and shook his head.
"Yes, well, I think we've seen enough," Susan said after a stretch of silence.
"Oh. Are you sure, dear?" McDonald looked a little disappointed.
"Hey, you're welcome to stay if you'd like," Blake said kindly. "We'd love to have you over for movie night, we've got popcorn and everything."
"Oh! That sounds delightful-!" McDonald started to reply jovially before he noticed the cold cough that Susan emanated. He shifted suddenly and readjusted his tie, looking awkward. "I-I mean, if we could. I'm afraid that we have other plans, my good friend. Thank you kindly for speaking with us, all of you. This has certainly been a memorable experience."
"It was no trouble at all, Mayor McDonald," Asgore stood with him, and the mayor shook his hand warmly with a kind smile as he looked up at him.
"We should get together again sometime, I still have so many questions…" he gave him a toothy smile. "Are you much one for golf, King Asgore?"
"I do not believe that I have ever played golf," Asgore answered quietly.
"It's incredibly dull," McDonald admitted with a grin. "But it's about the friends that you bring with you. And the drinks, naturally. You're all welcome at the course, or at our home any time you would like."
"You are very kind," Toriel stood with Asgore and placed a paw on the man's shoulder, earning an icy glare from Susan. "Thank you again, Mayor McDonald. We hope that you do well in your endeavors."
"And may the tides always be in your favor," he took her hand in his with a warm smile. "Goodnight, everyone. We most certainly hope to see you again."
Sans lay awake as he stared up at the dark ceiling, his mind reeling.
He knew that man from somewhere. Where had he seen him before? Perhaps he had noticed a picture in a newspaper that he had glanced at at some point. Or maybe there were a lot of people that looked like the slightly rotund mayor and he just didn't notice.
Was that racist if so many humans looked alike? Sans didn't know.
He didn't like not knowing things.
"… Sans?" he heard Frisk ask softly beside him, curled up with their knees against their chest with their blanket pulled up over them.
"What's up, kiddo?" Sans asked quietly, careful not to wake his slightly snoring brother in the recliner beside the couch. He was tired, so burned out, he just wanted to rest. But he would force his eye sockets open, he wouldn't fall asleep when Frisk needed him. They wouldn't answer and Sans gently ran a hand over their head, gently brushing his thumb over their eyebrows and cheek. "Hey. You… you okay, babybones?"
"… Y-yeah."
Frisk looked downward and huddled a little closer to themselves and Sans sighed, giving them a soft hug and kissing their forehead.
"… We've still gotta talk," Sans tried to keep from yawning. "But it can wait 'til morning. Just try to get some sleep. Okay, babybones?"
"O-okay, Sans." Frisk cuddled against him and rubbed their cheek against his chest, and Sans sighed quietly.
It was silent for a while. Sans was drifting through the dark, ever so slowly beginning to slip away from consciousness and into his dreams, though he was loathe to face them again. But they would come one way or another.
"… Sans?"
"Yeah," he blinked in the dark, listening as Frisk took his hand in their own. "You sure you're alright?"
"M-my belly…" Frisk mumbled. "My belly hurts."
"Still?"
"Sans…" Frisk started slowly. "Can… can you p-please…?"
Oh, not this again.
Just say no.
Say no.
You know exactly what they're going to ask, just say no. Make an effort to be responsible. That's all you have to do. I don't care how much it hurts, say no. For god's sake don't fuck up. Frisk needs you to not fuck up. Do it for them, just be a dick if you have to, don't do it. Say no.
"… Sans?" they asked ever so gently, staring up at him. "Can… um. I-I… please, Sans. I-I just… I just need it. Right-right now. Please? I'll be good-"
Sans sighed through his nostril bone, closing his weary eye sockets. He still had a headache from before, and they certainly weren't helping it. He was too sober.
"… Will it help you sleep?" Sans asked after a few moments. Frisk perked up and nodded ferociously a few times, their eyes almost gleaming in the dark. He was kicking himself, god this was a bad idea and he knew it, but every time that they pouted at him with their little lip poking out he felt his resolve crumble a little more. He really was a weak, miserable creature.
Sans slowly, carefully placed a hand over their chest, and reached deep for the magic. He would only give them a little, just a tiny bit, enough to placate them for now. That much wouldn't be bad, just a little couldn't hurt . Then they would stop asking and he could stop doing this and everything would be fine .
God help him he just wanted everything to be okay .
He focused on thoughts of healing. The hope that their little smile instilled in him. Papyrus punching the air in joy. The scent of his first spaghetti.
The scent of their hair as he held them. Thoughts of helping, of kindness, of love. He loved them, so much. He just wanted them to be okay. Just for a little while. He would give literally anything to see them smile again. That's what he focused on. Seeing them smile. Seeing them happy.
Sans was a little surprised at the intensity with which the green sparks burst from his palm, sinking into Frisk's chest. They gasped suddenly, their eyes widening a bit as magic coursed into them. They trembled fiercely as they let out a tiny, almost unheard moan as their back arched and they leaned into his touch, their eyes rolling back in their head a little as their manic grin grew so wide
-that same grin that he had seen before as dust coursed through the
air-
-and Sans stopped suddenly, feeling violently sick. He was so tired, so drained . His bones felt like they were being dragged through water, and he wheezed in exhaustion. He blinked woozily a couple of times, gently reaching out and brushing the sliver of drool away from Frisk's lip with his thumb. Frisk was shaking so badly that Sans was fearful that he had hurt them somehow, and he ran a hand over the top of their head worriedly.
"… Babybones?" he asked dryly, suddenly wishing that he had a smoke to calm his rattled nerves.
"T-thank y-you…" Frisk mumbled, and Sans swore that he could see a glimmer of red in their half lidded eyes as they hugged him tightly, shaking badly. "O-oh, gosh. Yes. F-f-finally . Yes, thank you, thank you Sans."
"Don't mention it," he responded quietly. "… Seriously. Don't… don't talk about it."
"I won't," Frisk promised, leaning up as they curled against him, kissing his cheek. "I'll be good. T-thank you. Thank you so much."
"D'you feel better now?" Sans asked gently as they took his hand in theirs, getting their fingers tangled in his phalanges. Frisk nodded a couple of times, that loopy, half focused smile wide on their face. God he was just wrong . He shouldn't have done that, he knew that he shouldn't have done it and he did it anyway. He shouldn't be giving in so easily just because they pouted . He was supposed to be stronger. He needed be stronger. He couldn't even claim that it had been because he was drunk this time. It had been an active, conscious decision, he had caved in, he knew it was wrong and he felt so awfully, horridly foul .
"… L-listen…" Sans shifted uncomfortably as Frisk clung to him a little tighter to keep from rolling off the couch. "I-I can't… fuck me," Sans sighed and closed his eye sockets. "What am I tryin' to say." "Please don't take it away…" Frisk murmured quietly, kissing his cheek again. "I'll be good."
You can't do this.
I can't do this.
I can't.
I just can't.
I can't hurt them.
Oh god I'm hurting them, no matter what I do I just wind up hurting the people that I love.
I'm a fucking abomination.
Sans had to take a slow, uneven breath as he stilled himself, rubbing his eye sockets with one hand as he wrapped his other arm around Frisk and pulled them a little closer. He wanted to cry. Couldn't he make it one day? Couldn't he manage for just five minutes without fucking up? He needed to be better. And he couldn't seem to. He wasn't making things better. Not like this. He wasn't helping them like this.
But they liked it.
They loved it, it was easy enough to tell. But that still didn't make it right . He felt slightly nauseous with himself. He really was a twisted bastard. He was vile, he was an illness and there was no cure. He didn't want to have the thoughts that he did. But it was hard not to. God, he was such a sick creature. He shouldn't have done that. He just wanted them to be okay. He wanted them to be happy. By giving them what they wanted, didn't he get to see them smile? But he shouldn't. He was hurting them by denying them what they wanted. He was hurting them by giving them what they wanted. He was damned if he did, damned if he didn't. There was no way out, there was no escape from himself and he could feel that damned holed skeletal hand on his shoulder, even though when he looked there was nobody there. He took in a deep, slow breath, feeling slightly dizzy from exhaustion.
"… Sans?" Frisk said after a while, realizing his distress. "… Sansy?"
"Hey," he croaked dryly after a bit. "S-so. Uh. Tomorrow. Or, uh, today. Depending on the time. We're gonna go outside the city. We're gonna start building our own home tomorrow. You wanna… you wanna come see it?"
"I would love to," Frisk snuggled against him with a happy little chirrup. God, he was like putty in their hands. He really was so weak it was pathetic. He shouldn't have done that. He really, really shouldn't have done that. The guilt was overwhelming.
He could still hear that soft, muffled little moan as they leaned into his touch…
Get it together. Get your shit together. Get it the fuck together.
"… Sans?"
"Yeah, kiddo."
"I love you, Sans."
"I love you too, babybones," he answered softly as he hugged them, squeezing his eye sockets shut and trying to ignore the thoughts running rampant through his head. "I'm… goddammit . I'm… I'm sorry. I'm so fuckin' sorry, babybones."
"Shh. Sans," Frisk brushed his cheek gently with their fingertips, smiling at him in the dark. "Don't be sad. I… I feel better. I feel… good. I'll be good for you. I promise."
This was so fucked up. He was so fucked up, everything about this was wrong and oh god he had just done that with his brother sleeping nearby. This was messed up on every level imaginable. And then a couple more.
"I'm sorry…" he mumbled as they buried their face against his chest. "Goddamn. I-I… I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, babybones."
"Why are you sorry ?" Frisk blinked up at him. They brushed against his cheek again with that pleased little smile, and it hurt, it ached so badly. He was twisted, he was wrong and there was nothing good in him at all, how could they possibly keep looking at him with that merciful smile? Didn't they get it? Didn't they realize just how much it hurt? "Why do you keep saying that? It's really okay, Sans. I'm… I'm better now. Thank you."
Sans sighed and closed his weary eye sockets, holding them close. He wasn't making things better. He was making it worse . What if his magic accidentally did something to their soul? What if he made the damage irreparable?
"… Babybones?"
"Yeah, Sans?" Frisk asked tiredly. Sans rolled a little until he was on his side, meeting their forehead with his own. "W-what is it?"
"You mind if I check on your soul for a sec?" Sans asked lowly, trying to keep the worry out of his tone. "Just… just wanna check somethin'
is all."
Frisk looked a little nervous, but nodded after a moment. He sighed again and place his hand over their heart. He could feel it pulsing, feel their soul beating with so much life that it was just incredible. He sent a surge of magic down his arm and ever so carefully drew their soul out of their chest, hearing them gasp quietly as the glowing red of their soul illuminated the dark room, sending shadows dancing over the walls.
There, just in the middle of their soul, was that little white speck.
Sans couldn't quite tell, but…
Had it grown ? Just a little bit?
He held their soul cupped in the palms of his hands, careful not to touch it. He felt the sudden urge to run his fingertips over their soul as he kept it just outside their chest, and he realized that Frisk was shaking slightly. He looked down at them and witnessed a bizarre expression that he couldn't place, like they were pleased and excited and terrified all at once. Sans slowly, carefully placed their soul back into their chest, making them shiver and shake in what have might have been delight.
This is fucked. This is straight fucked. You actually managed to sink to a new level of fucked.
He had their soul literally in the palm of his hand, and he couldn't shake off that damned urge to just squeeze, to crush . What was wrong with him? He loved them. He loved them more than his own life, he just wanted them to be happy and he was slowly ruining them. Why did he keep doing this? What was the point? Why was he so vile ?
"… S-Sans…" Frisk murmured softly as they reached out to hold their soul. "I… I feel… something."
"What is it, babybones?" Sans whispered without looking away from their brilliantly glowing soul.
"Sans. I… I feel… I feel you," they said quietly, their voice full of excitement, eyes widening clearly even in the dark. "Oh gosh, oh wow… I can… I can feel you… !"
Sans's voice caught in his throat as he ever so slowly placed their soul back into their chest. What was happening? What was even happening to his life anymore?
"… You… you okay, babybones?" Sans asked after a moment, but they wouldn't stop trembling. They looked up at him tearfully, wiping their eyes and beaming at him.
"I'm… I'm okay," Frisk nodded. There was that spark in his chest again. He felt so full every time that they looked at him like that, like his soul was about to burst from the sheer amount of trust, of love that they looked at him with. It was… overwhelming, in a way. "Can… can I see yours?"
"M-mine?" he sputtered quietly. "I-I, uh. Wow. I mean, I-I, uh…"
Frisk gave him that little pout again with their lip sticking out, and Sans felt his resolve dissolving. They were his vice, he couldn't say no to them when they were like this. He was so pathetic. He was so weak. They were so much stronger than him, so much better than him.
He sighed quietly after a moment and placed a hand over his chest. He drew out his soul carefully, not having done it in a while. It felt so strange, like he was in two places at once. There again was that little red speck in the center of his white soul, and Frisk stared and stared. And then they reached out and touched it.
Sans was on fire . That simple, careful little touch was like a vice grip on his soul, on his being, and it rocked him to the core.
He could feel his bones burning, aching, screaming in utterly overflowing love. They had touched him for only a brief moment, but he could feel through their gentle touch, the way that they looked at him with that soft smile, that kind, gentleness that couldn't be matched by anyone else in the world. He could feel Frisk's own soul beating, in tune with his, and he felt so…
Happy .
He felt them through their touch, that incredible, trusting mercy. So much mercy, so much love that he didn't know how to handle it. It was like his body couldn't take it, his limbs felt like jelly, he was just so overjoyed that he didn't know how to confront it. It was like a euphoria he had never felt before, impossible and tender and determined and so awesomely vast that he was shocked that any living creature could possibly have that much love inside of them.
And it scared him.
Sans was sobbing silently as he held them, his soul snapped carefully back into his chest. He didn't know when he had sat up and held them in his lap, rocking back and forth and just crying. Frisk hushed him softly the entire time, cooing gently against his head and kissing his cheek, attempting to calm him down. They were the one comforting him, when he was supposed to be taking care of them . They really were the most wonderful, incredible person that he had ever met. It was like a switch had been flipped in him, he had seen, for just a brief moment, the absolutely stunning amount of trust and love that they had for him, that he didn't even deserve for being the despicable, unworthy creature that he was.
"Shh. It's okay. It's okay, Sans…" Frisk murmured quietly against his head, petting him softly. "It's okay. I love you, Sans. Please don't cry."
"I love you too, babybones," Sans tried to wipe his eye sockets with shaking hands. "Oh god. Oh, god, oh fuck what did you do to me…?!"
"Sans?"
"You are wonderful," Sans choked, holding them close and squeezing them. "You are the most wonderful little human in the entire world, Frisky-bits. I promise, I swear to god I'm gonna make things better. I love you, babybones."
"I love you too, Sans."
He didn't manage to get them to sleep much that night.
Sans certainly didn't sleep at all.
He just sat there in the dark, holding them and rocking back and forth. He didn't bother trying to fight the tears anymore. They didn't stop for a while. This was not how he'd planned his day to go.
He was going to make things better.
Oh, god, what had they just done.
This is it. This is where I am in my life.
I… don't know if I'm okay with this. Oh god. I fucked up, I fucked us royal.
Sans didn't know how he was supposed to fix this.
He didn't know if he could be fixed.
He wasn't sure if he wanted to live or die anymore.
There was so much that he didn't know.
All he could do was hold them close and try not to think about it.
Papyrus lay amongst the flowers, plucking one of them from the stem and holding the golden petals above his head as sunlight poured down around them. He sighed quietly, tossing it away. The warm breeze was so gentle on his bones. He loved the feeling of the wide open space. It was so… comforting.
"Have you given it any consideration?" Gaster asked him as he sat among the golden flowers, smiling down at Papyrus.
"I… I don't know," he answered quietly, rubbing his wrist. He knew that it wasn't really there. That hand was gone. There was no bringing it back.
"That's not true," Gaster said aloud as if he could read his mind. "Just because something is lost doesn't mean that it's gone forever."
"I don't quite follow…" Papyrus sighed again, sitting up to face him.
"I can give him back to you…" Gaster plucked one of the flowers, turning it through his phalanges. "Would you like that, Papyrus? Would you like another chance? Would you like to try again?"
"How is that even possible?" Papyrus frowned, crossing his arms and staring at the skeleton in front of him.
"Time and space are only illusions," Gaster said as he lifted his hand, revealing the small flower with a face on it. Flowey smiled at him cheerfully, bouncing on his stem a bit. "All you have to do is pull back the veil, and see reality for what it really is. Everything can be… twisted, a little. All you have to do is know where to go. What strings to pull."
"I still don't understand…" he said softly as Flowey popped up from the ground, rubbing his forehead against the flat of his hand. He knew he wasn't real. None of this was real. It was just a dream, and soon he would wake up and the nice skeleton and his little friend would be gone, and he would be forced to confront the reality that he had killed his best friend all over again.
"I can give him back to you," Gaster said quietly, his smile stretching a little over his face. "Wouldn't you like that, Papyrus?"
"I… I would like that. Very much."
"Very well. I'm going to give you some instructions, Papyrus. If you want your friend back, then all you have to do is follow my directions to the letter. I can show you so much more, Papyrus. I can show you all of infinity."
"Why?" Papyrus asked cautiously. "Why would you do this for us?"
"My dear Papyrus," Gaster smiled at him softly. "What I do, I do only out of LOVE."
"… Okay. I'll… I'll do it. Let's go get Flowey back."
"Excellent."
Things were finally going according to plan.
.
The extreme discomfort continues.