Forged In Fire
Chapter 52: Forged In Fire
The interior of doctor Johar's home office was a fairly comfortable place. Small, but not too small. Sans had had quite enough of cramped buildings. Sans let out a quiet sigh, taking in the surroundings quickly. There were photographs of smiling people all over the walls, with quite a few pictures of landscapes. Sans stared at one of a snowy mountain for a few seconds before chortling to himself. How strange, he found it, that someone would have a picture of a mountain when all they had to do was look out the window to see one much closer. Humans could be so strange. Several pieces of furniture were covered in little white doilies, and he wondered if she made them herself. Johar closed the door behind them and stretched her arms cheerfully. Supposedly this would be the woman to help prove that Frisk wasn't crazy. Sans was pretty sure that he was, though.
"Would anyone like tea?" she gestured for them to move into a spacious room with a sofa and a couple of plush armchairs, with long drapes over the windows. "I'm more of a coffee person myself, but I keep tea on hand all the time."
"What kind ya got?" Sans inquired as Frisk clambered up onto the sofa. Sans gave up the armchair in favor of sitting beside Frisk, who held his hand with a small but slightly worried smile. "Actually, fuhgeddaboudit. Anything is fine."
Johar nodded and returned a short while later with three steaming teacups with little flowers on the sides, and Sans sipped at his experimentally. It tasted like chamomile and smelled of jasmine, with a slight honey aftertaste. He thanked her quietly, and she only shook her head.
"I would like you to know beforehand that this is a safe place," Johar said with a little smile, pulling out a couple of notebooks from a bookshelf nearby, picking up a couple of coloring tools. "Anything we talk about doesn't leave this room. Okay?"
Sans wasn't certain whether he was talking to him, Frisk, or both of them, but he graced her with a slight nod.
"Would you like to color? Frisk, right?" Johar kindly passed them one of the notebooks.
"It's empty…" Frisk frowned.
"I keep some empty ones around," Johar shrugged, some of her graying hair falling into her eyes before she blew upward, getting it out of her glasses. "I also have some coloring books if you'd like those instead."
"Can I draw a bunny?"
"You can draw anything you'd like," she beamed at them. "I'm terrible at drawing, never really had a knack for it. I can make a mean stick person, though."
She handed Sans a notebook with a little crayon as well, and instead of drawing he began doodling chemical chain reactions and equations from memory, scribbling them down the sides of the papers.
"You know, I used to have a pet bunny rabbit," Johar informed them after a short while of silence interrupted by the scratch on paper. "He was just the fattest little thing, I spoiled him way too much. I thought having a pet was great, until I found out that apparently that means responsibility and somebody had to clean up after him."
Frisk tittered lightly and shook their head, turning the paper around to show a plump rabbit with red eyes.
"Hey, that's pretty good, kiddo," Sans ruffled their hair and their cheeks glowed a little. "What's that on his back?"
"That's a jetpack," Frisk explained as if it were obvious. "That way he can escape from predators."
Sans only snorted and shook his head, smiling. Their tea was almost completely ignored at this point, but Sans didn't mind. It was still hot though and he gave it a couple more experimental sips, noting quietly that Johar was watching him intently the entire time.
"You said that your name is Sans, yes?" she brushed some gray hair from her eyes. "Richard informed me that you were planning on adopting Frisk, what would their last name be?"
"Skeleton," he said simply. Johar only stared at him.
"I… assumed that was a joke," she blinked at last. "Your-your last name is literally 'Skeleton'?"
"Most monsters don't have a need for last names," he shrugged. "That's more of a human invention, but I want Frisk to feel more comfortable. Plus it's bound to confuse the heck outta people, and I can't wait for that."
She gave a crooked smile and shook her head, flipping through the notebook of her own and doodling something.
"My last name is Johar," she explained quietly. "My first name is actually Mohinder. I had the nickname Jo and even 'MoJo' all throughout college, I still have people calling me that. You can just call me Jo, if you like."
"Can I call you JoJo?" Frisk peered up at the woman.
"You can call me anything you like, as long as it's not late for dinner," she winked. Frisk only giggled again, hiding their smile behind their hands. Their sleeves slipped down a little, revealing the marks on their wrists, and Sans saw Johar's eyes flash to the scars, and her expression went strangely blank for a few seconds.
"I like to make all of my patients feel more at home," she said as if she hadn't seen anything. "Would you like to play any games while we talk, Frisk? I have all sorts of board games just lying around. They're a bit dusty, so I guess they're more like bored games, now."
Sans couldn't help but crack a grin, relaxing a little. She had jokes. She wasn't reacting the way that Sans had really expected a human to with the given information. How much did he actually know about this woman? He wanted to put stake in her, but he had made that mistake before. It just wasn't easy to trust people. Not for him, anyway. Sans glanced down to see Frisk shaking their head quietly, pulling their knees up to their chest and wrapping their arms around their legs. He knew that they had a problem with people, that they didn't like doctors, but now there was something about games that bothered them? Something irritated him in the back of his mind, though he couldn't put his finger on what. Maybe they were just more of a puzzle kid.
"Do you mind if I ask you a few questions, Frisk?" Jo said quietly, and Frisk nodded wordlessly. Sans placed a hand on their shoulder and gave them a soft look, and they seemed to relax a little bit. "Just some routine stuff. Do you consider yourself happy?"
"I'm happy with my family," Frisk nodded firmly.
"That's good. What about your family? Do you get along with them?" "I love them very much…" they nodded again with a small smile.
Sans felt a warmth in his soul at their words, but he stayed silent. This was about them, not him.
"Tell me, Frisk; have you ever had thoughts of harming yourself or others?"
Frisk tightened up suddenly, glancing fearfully up at Sans.
"… Frisk?"
"No," they whispered, pulling at the tips of their hair. "No. I'm good. I'll be good, I'll be good. I promise."
"O… kay…?" Johar blinked. "What about hearing things that nobody else does? Have you ever heard voices inside your head?"
… Oh, shit.
Frisk wouldn't answer, looking more and more distressed by the moment. Thankfully, however, Johar seemed to know when to drop it, and she calmly took a sip of her tea.
"Don't even worry about it, Frisk, everything is okay. It's just routine questions that I have to ask all my patients. Let's just talk about something else, does that sound good to you? Tell you what, we could make a little game out of it. It's called word association. I'll just say a word, one word, and then you say one word that the word makes you think of. Got it?"
"I think so…?" Frisks shifted uncomfortably. "What if I do bad?"
"Oh, don't worry about that," Jo shook her head with another smile. "It's not graded or anything. It's just to let me try to get a better grip on my understanding of you, it's pretty simple, you don't have to worry about a thing. Are you ready to get started?"
Frisk looked up at Sans for advice, but he didn't have anything to offer. Frisk only sighed and
nodded after a moment. Sans didn't know why he was bracing himself, but he did it regardless, and it took a great deal of effort to try to relax. He wouldn't let himself, though.
"Okay, so let's start with something simple. Like… bunny."
"Cute," Frisk nodded again. "I like bunnies."
"They are universally agreed to be adorable. How about… skyscrapers."
"Tall!" Frisk perked up a little, starting to get into the swing of it. Jo leaned forward with her elbows on her knees as she wrote something down on the notepad without looking at it, a bit of gray hair falling behind her glasses.
"Plant?"
"Seeds."
"Flowers."
"… Mean," Frisk shifted and looked away. Jo's eyebrow slowly rose, but she didn't press the issue.
"Butter?"
"Yellow."
"Red."
"Eyes."
"Sight?"
"Watching," Frisk said without missing a beat, staring straight ahead at nothing. "Light."
"Freedom."
"Comfort?"
"Home."
"Room."
"Trapped."
"Bed?"
"Chains."
Johar paused for a moment, uncertainty flashing across her face. Sans was sweating at this point, feeling both disturbed and slightly sick. He didn't like this 'game' in the slightest. His hand squeezed gently on Frisk's shoulder, but for all intents and purposes they were completely dead to the world, entirely focused on their 'game', eyes narrowed and full of determination.
"Do… do you have chains on your bed, Frisk?" Johar asked quietly after a moment, giving a strange look to Sans.
"Okay, w-whoa, don't-don't go getting' the wrong idea," Sans's voice came out in a whisper, and he cleared his throat. He was worried for Frisk, they had such a strange, blank expression on their face that it was unnerving to see. "Uh. Babybones? You…" his voice softened as he petted their hair, and Frisk closed their eyes and leaned a little into his touch. "Hey. You mind if I… tell 'er? I know you don't like talkin' about it. So you just… you don't gotta say anything, if you don't want to. Okay?"
"… It's okay, Sans," Frisk said softly, gently taking his hand in theirs with a little sad smile. "It's safe here. Remember?"
"Heh. Yeah," he said with absolutely no conviction whatsoever. What little trust he had for this human woman wasn't much. Sans took in a deep breath and closed his eye sockets for a few seconds before noting the odd look that Jo was giving him, and he shook his head.
"Frisk's… human father. He… he s-sold them. To-to some people that hurt them. They hurt 'em
real, real bad. I've been… takin' care of them, ever since they j-fell," he corrected himself quickly. "Into Mount Ebott."
"I'm… I am so, so sorry," Johar's glasses were a little fogged, and she took a shaky breath before removing them and cleaning them with the hem of her shirt, looking away for a second and clearing her throat. She had to bite her lower lip and still herself for several moments. "That's horrible. That shouldn't happen to anyone. Let alone a child," there was an iciness in her voice that belied a cold, but very controlled anger, and her face contorted for only a moment before clearing completely, like he was looking at a blank slate.
"What… what was your father like, if you don't mind me asking?" Johar asked quietly. Sans instinctively cringed. If the conversation continued down this lane things would not go well for Frisk, he knew it. They didn't want to talk about it, she was wasting her time.
"My… my daddy is right here," Frisk said firmly, holding San's hand with a gentle squeeze and a kind smile up at him. "And there's a lot to like. I love my daddy very much."
If Sans had a heart, it would be absolutely breaking.
"Okay," Johar had a small but weak smile of her own on her lips.
"You don't have to talk about anything that you don't want to. Alright, Frisk?"
"Thank you," they nodded gratefully, still clinging to Sans's hand.
"It's no problem. Anything that's said here stays in here. I can pinkie promise. And nobody would dare break the sacred bond of a pinkie promise," she winked conspiratorially. Frisk didn't laugh, but they did open and close their mouth a few times, looking conflicted as they pulled at their hair with their free hand.
"You… you won't tell?" Frisk asked softly.
"Absolutely not," Johar nodded without missing a beat. Jo held out her pinkie finger for Frisk to take, and they gently grasped it in their hand in slight confusion. "I pinkie promise."
Sans didn't know why Johar was trying so hard. He wished that she wouldn't. He didn't want her to keep pushing Frisk like she was doing, Frisk was fragile. What if they had another attack and started breaking down again? He didn't want that to happen, he just wanted them to be happy.
"Um. My… my d-daddy…" Frisk began lowly, and Sans fell completely still. "The human one. He… he didn't used to be mean. He wasn't so bad until mommy went away. Then he turned… he turned really angry, all the time. He used to drink a bunch and sscream bad things and throw t-things at me. If I was bad he just drank more. I used to get locked in a trunk in the attic until I went to sleep. Sometimes I was asleep for a long time. He… he wasn't bad all the time. He used to make me dress up in mommy's clothes and helped me put on her makeup."
Sans sat in utterly stunned silence, his mind feeling numb and a fire raging in his stomach. He'd never heard them speak this much about that Mai bastard, and hearing it all spill out was like a sensory overload that he didn't know how to process. He didn't even care that the lights in his eye sockets were completely out, his hand limp in Frisk's as they spoke. They stared down at their knees the entire time, their cheeks red in embarrassment, but they didn't stop. He was conflicted, he was angry, and just a tiny little crazy part of him was upset that this woman that they had just met had been the one that Frisk opened up to and not him. It was so stupid, so selfish that he would be jealous of her for that. And at the same time, that little voice in the back of his mind whispered foul things to him, he didn't want to think of them like that, he didn't want to think about them being hurt, he just wanted to see them happy and oh god he wasn't going to lose it, that was all, there wasn't anything wrong with him he just had to keep his sweaty shaking hands still and pretend that he wasn't internally grappling a writhing beast that wanted nothing more than to rip, to tear, to kill the sick wastes of life that had harmed his little babybones.
"When I turned seven, d-daddy said that I… I was… bad. For being made. That I was a mistake, that mommy went away because of me. That-that I had to make up for it by being g-good. For a n-n-new ddaddy. A bunch of people came smoked pipes and t-talked about numbers, and he had me s-sit on their laps, and-and they-they t… they t-tou- I-I…" Frisk was pulling at their hair in distress, and he saw a flash of red in their eyes just before they closed completely, their breathing labored. He held their shoulder worriedly, trying to focus on the nearly crying child instead of the blinding fucking rage.
Johar was absolutely silent the entire time, the notepad held loosely in her hand almost falling to the floor, but she made no move to grab it or even blink.
"They took me away," Frisk continued after a few minutes of deafening silence. "And-and it just… it just kept happening. Sometimes it-it felt like the same thing was happening over and over again. And it hurt, it hurt so much. But if-if I was good, I-I got to f-feel good."
"I-I don't… I don't understand," Johar's voice came out in barely above a scratchy whisper. Sans could have hear a mosquito sneeze. Frisk only shook their head with a little sigh. Then they slowly began to roll up their sleeves, and Jo took in a quiet but sharp breath when she saw the puncture wounds. The marks on their wrists. The cuts, the little circular burns. Frisk quickly pulled their sleeves back down, face burning brightly, and they looked away with a bitter expression. Johar herself looked much paler than she did before, her gray hair standing out against her face, and she looked close to being ill.
"… What were their names?" Johar asked quietly. Frisk froze suddenly, their face flooded with remembered pain and fear, anguish dripping in liquid down their cheeks.
"Can't," Frisk rocked back and forth in panic, sobbing dryly as they clutched their knees close to their body. "I can't I-I c-can't, can't t-tell, they'll know, they'll know… !"
"It's okay," Sans's voice was raspy and dry, but he still didn't bother with the tea. He just held the crying child closer, holding them tightly to his chest. They clung to him weakly and buried their face in his jacket, and he hushed them as he brushed their hair. "It's okay, babybones. I've got you now. It's okay."
Johar looked to be in a state of shock.
Her hand was clasped tightly over her mouth and she was shaking furiously. Tears leaked through her fingers and she hid her face, trying to clear her throat.
"… Do you wanna go?" Sans asked Frisk quietly, and they nodded once. "Alright. Just… don't cry, babybones. It's all gonna be okay."
"I…" Jo started as they rose, clearing her throat and wiping her eyes.
"My god. I'm-I'm sorry, I got a little… never mind," she shook her head, pulling a card out of her pocket. "I… I n-need to file - I think that we should speak again. You can set up an appointment whenever you'd like."
"What, uh…" Sans started awkwardly, digging in his jacket pocket. "Guess I gotta pay up for the visit, right?"
"Not a chance," Jo put a hand on his shoulder, giving him a steely, determined look. "Everything has already been paid in full."
"What?" he blinked. "By who?"
"Roudy can be very generous when he wants to," Johar said softly, giving him a smile. "Just… just take care of yourselves. I want to see you two in here next time, healthy and happy. But I guess if you already were you wouldn't need little ol' me, right?"
"You're a nice person, JoJo," Sans gave her a gentle grin. "And, uh… t-thanks. It's been… fun?"
"Don't mention it. And I wouldn't know about, erm, fun, but it certainly was unexpectedly bizarre compared to my usual clients, Mister Skeleton."
"Oh, please," Sans rolled the lights in his eye sockets. "Mister Skeleton was my father."
Jo only weakly snorted and shook her head and waved them goodbye. She glanced at the clock to check the time, but by the time she turned her head back to the door they were already gone. It was strange, she hadn't even seen them arrive in a vehicle. It was like they had just vanished from the world altogether. She had people to call. She needed to work harder on this case than she ever had before. She was determined.
From the shadows, a smiling figure watched her the entire time.
Sans was more than happy to finally return home. A light sprinkle was dancing over them as they stood on the doorstep, and Sans brushed Frisk's hair out of their eyes.
"How ya holdin' up, kiddo?" Sans asked quietly, flicking some rain water out of their eyes with one hand, his other full with the white box that he had picked up from the bakery on the way back. "You feelin' okay after all that?"
"I'm okay, Sans," Frisk hugged him tightly around the stomach. He felt a wave of exhaustion from all of the shortcuts and he sighed quietly, trying to brush it off in favor of paying them his full attention. He held the front door open for them and let them out of the rain, and Sans dragged his slippers lazily over the bone decorated welcome mat.
"Ah, you're finally back!" Papyrus bounded off the couch, startling Blake in the process. He marched right over to Frisk and knelt down as they ran into his arm and a half, giving him a happy hug around the shoulders. "I trust your visit to the doctor wasn't too scary, was it little one?"
"She was pretty nice," Frisk said warmly. "I'm just happy to be home."
"They say home is where the heart is," Sans thumped his chest one. "Guess that means I'm homeless, eh?"
"Sans that was terrible," Papyrus deadpanned, but continued to pat Frisk's head anyway. "What's that?"
"Got the kiddo a treat for being so good today," Sans shrugged simply, almost dropping the box in the process. "Hey, Blake, I'm kinda drippin' water all over the floor, can you help me get this stuff put up so I can can dry this mess?"
"Uh, y-yeah. Sure," Blake blinked and was by his side in a moment, taking the box from Sans's outstretched hands. Papyrus was helping Frisk with their damp jacket and Sans followed Blake into the kitchen, glancing over his shoulder once as he did so to ensure that they were out of earshot.
"You mind doin' me a favor?" Sans asked quietly as Blake set the cake on the table.
"Yeah…?" he furrowed his brows, lowering his voice as well. "Something up?"
"Just gotta talk to a friend of mine, and, well, uh… I really don't wanna get Paps involved. Do-do you think you can…?"
"One awesome distraction, coming up," Blake said without missing a beat, making a miniature fist pump. "My time has come."
"What time is what?" Papyrus poked his head into the kitchen, closely followed by Frisk.
"The perfect time to introduce you to something I should have introduced you to long ago…" Blake steepled his fingers together with a wide grin. "Because you, my friend, are coming with me to see… Star Wars," he waved his hands as if expecting sprinkles to come out from his words.
"Okay," Papyrus blinked expressionlessly. "You say that like I should know what it is."
"Dude, this is gonna blow your skele-mind," Blake made a finger gun next to his head and led him by the shoulder toward the door, almost laughing to himself. "You thought old Disney flicks were good, this movie is amazing."
"Why didn't you say so?" Papyrus readjusted his scarf. "We should have a movie night here!"
"I've got a better idea," Blake snapped his fingers as if he had just thought of it. "Why don't you guys all come over to my place? I've got tons of popcorn, we can invite Alphys and Undyne and bug the hell outta my brother and make a party out of it!"
"That does sound like fun," he rubbed his chin thoughtfully before turning back to the kitchen, where Sans realized that he had simply been staring. "Sans! Would you and the little one like to come with us to see the Star Wars?"
"We're pretty beat," Sans shrugged simply, giving a yawn for emphasis. "It's been a real rough day. Me and the kiddo are gonna hit the hay pretty soon. You guys have fun though," he grinned at his brother.
Papyrus only stared at him. Sans felt a cold sweat begin to form on the back of his head, and he stuck his hands in his pockets nervously.
"… Are you feeling alright, Sans?"
"Yeah, of course I am," Sans kept the plastered grin on for as long as he could.
"Because you didn't even make a pun," Papyrus frowned. "Like, 'this is where the pun begins,' or 'cinema you later'."
"Those are going in the joke book," he tried to relax a little. "Must just be all tuckered out from all the running we've had to do today. I'll probably have a dozen puns ready for when you get back."
"Oh joy," Papyrus deadpanned. "Well, if you insist. Just make sure you actually get enough rest. Alright, brother?"
"No promises," Sans shrugged again, and Papyrus threw up his arm and a half with an exasperated nyeh . There was the sound of a car starting and Papyrus left with Blake soon after, leaving Sans and Frisk in quiet. Sans patted the seat at the table and Frisk climbed up into the chair, looking at him curiously.
"You don't wanna go see a movie too…?" Frisk asked with a slight frown.
"Nah. We've got company comin' over, remember?" he got a couple of plates down from the cabinets. "We've still got some time though, I can't imagine Grillbz will wanna walk in this weather. For now though, I promised you a treat, and I stand by my promises."
Sans cracked open the box and the strong scent of chocolate wafted over them, and Frisk's eyes lit up at the scent. The top was decorated with little vanilla swirls in an almost hypnotizing pattern, and their eyes were wide at the sight. Sans pulled open a drawer and stared down at the cutting implement, feeling suddenly ill.
It was just a knife.
That's all it was.
Just a knife.
He didn't need to panic. He wasn't going to panic, he was being ridiculous. It was just an ordinary kitchen knife.
His brother's scarf in the snow.
Undyne dripping away.
Countless faces lost, screaming in the dark.
Splatters of red on golden checkered floors.
Sans closed his eye sockets for a few moments, reaching in and grabbing it by the handle. He forced himself to still his hand with his other, carefully cutting out a large slice of the chocolate cake before sliding it slowly onto a plate, grabbing a small piece for himself.
"Bone appetit, kiddo," Sans ruffled their hair, dropping the knife into the sink. Frisk giggled a little, turning down to the confection with a strange look, staring back up at him as he placed a fork before them.
"… Whassa matter, kiddo?" Sans dropped into the seat opposite them, waiting for them to take the first bite. "It's probably not poisoned or something. Give it a whirl."
"Am… am I allowed?" Frisk shifted in their seat awkwardly. Sans felt a pang in his chest and he sighed quietly, taking a small bite to prove that it wasn't all that bad.
"Of course you are, buddy," Sans swallowed. Human food always had an odd texture to it, but it was extremely sweet. "What are you waitin' for, somebody to feed it to ya?"
Frisk just shuffled their feet back and forth, barely scraping the floor. Sans sighed again and scooted his chair a bit closer to them, picking up the fork and getting a small bit of cake on the end. He held it out for them and they opened their mouth, and Sans was suddenly reminded of an eager puppy waiting for a treat. He couldn't help but grin a little wider as they took an experimental bite.
Frisk must have been part Giftmas tree, because their face certainly lit up like one.
Their eyes widened and they covered their mouth with their hand, eyes wide as saucers as they began to bounce up and down with the fork still in their mouth, making a pleased little humming noise.
"See?" Sans took a bite of his own, cutting a small portion for Frisk and holding it out for them again. "It's good, right? Just needs ketchup."
Frisk stuck out their tongue at the proposal and he laughed, shaking his head. He let them take
another bite and they closed their eyes, a delighted shiver running through their whole body.
"If ghud," Frisk said through a full mouth. "If fho ghud!"
"Ya shouldn't talk with your mouth full, kiddo," Sans chuckled as Frisk swallowed, unable to contain their huge smile. "You don't wanna wind up choked, do ya?"
Frisk froze suddenly, looking at him fearfully, eyes darting back and forth across his face.
"From… from the cake," Sans said, far more uncomfortable than he had been just a moment ago. "You gotta chew your food, kiddo. Or you'll wind up gaggin' on it."
"I don't have a gag reflex anymore," Frisk said somewhat proudly, sticking their finger into the back of their mouth to prove it. "'member?"
"… Gross," Sans chortled and shook his head as they pulled their finger out of their mouth with a little bleh sound. "How's the cake, babybones?"
"It's the best thing I've ever tasted!" Frisk began bouncing in their seat again, holding their mouth open awaiting him to feed them another bite. His chest ached a little, and he didn't want to think about how they had been deprived of something so simple, something that practically every monster child got to experience. They just looked so… happy. That was all he wanted. To see them smile. To see them happy.
So why did it hurt so much?
"… Sans?" Frisk asked softly after a moment.
"What's up, kiddo."
"Why are you so sad?"
Sans cleared his face of emotion instantly, mentally kicking himself all over the place. He needed to keep better control of himself. He thought that he had, or was he really just getting that easy to read? He needed to get a better grip. Sans shook his head and blinked a few times, feeling a slight stinging behind his eye sockets.
"It's nothin', kiddo."
"But-!"
"No butts but yours, sitting here enjoying your treat," Sans said firmly as he carved another chunk of cake with the fork, holding it before them. "Unless you'd rather ask questions instead of have some more cake?"
He drew it back tantalizingly when they tried to bite it, grinning at them. They gave a little pout and he felt his soul start to melt, and he felt an unexpected twinge of guilt for teasing them. He eventually held it out for them without withdrawing this time, and Frisk popped the cake into their mouth with another little pleased shiver. He felt a slight tingling in his chest that he wasn't entirely certain of how to react to, and he was growing increasingly sweaty and trembling every time that they looked at him like that. He swallowed the thought as quickly as Frisk devoured the cake, and by the end of it they had finished both theirs and his pieces, but he didn't care. He just cleaned up after them and put the cake away, storing it between the leftover spaghetti that never seemed to run out.
"You, uh…" Sans stuck his hands in his pockets, leaning against the sink as Frisk happily chirruped and kicked their legs back and forth. "Man. You are a messy eater, kid."
"Not all my fault…" Frisk frowned a little at him. "You kept missing my mouth!"
"Mostly not on purpose," he snickered. He only shook his head and drew out a cloth from the drawer to wet it in the sink, leaning over and gently wiping Frisk's mouth clean of chocolate. Frisk squirmed for a few seconds but he cleaned them anyway, poking them in the belly to distract them. They made a happy little noise as he did so, and he tossed the cloth in the sink and ruffled their hair.
"Feel better, kiddo?" Sans helped them down from the chair.
"My belly kinda hurts…"
"Probably shouldn't have tried to scarf it down so fast," he led them toward the living room, glancing out the window at the pouring rain.
"You're not supposed to just shovel it all down as fast as ya can. You're supposed to enjoy it. Y'know?"
Frisk only stared at him.
It briefly occurred to him whether they had even once gotten the chance to enjoy eating ever in their life. The painful twang in his chest returned and he leaned down to hug them, planting a warm kiss on the top of their head. Frisk wriggled a little at first but eventually sighed and hugged him back, and their smile was a large and warm one. They were still so thin. So frail looking. He carefully leaned down and picked them up in his arms, causing them to emit a surprised squeak, and he shook his head again.
"C'mon, kiddo," Sans dropped onto the couch with a grunt, flipping the television on with his free hand. Frisk curled up in his lap and squirmed until they were climbing inside his jacket. "Pfft. Hey. Gimme a break here, bud, you're ticklin' me."
"How can you be ticklish if you don't have tickly-bits?" Frisk frowned, zipping up his jacket now that they were completely inside it with their head poking out a bit.
"Skeleton secret," he winked down at them as they craned their neck up to look back at him.
"Did I poke your funny bone?" Frisk tittered.
"Kid, all my bones are funny. You're just a real rib tickler is all."
Frisk only giggled again and made themselves more comfortable inside his jacket, drawing their legs up so that they were completely inside it.
"Man, did I put on a few pounds or somethin'?" Sans joked lightly, poking the lump in his jacket and making them snicker. "Wow, I really gotta lay off the cake. No body like me should have this much weight."
"… How do you have a belly?" Frisk frowned suddenly, peering into the jacket.
"Pfft, I dunno. Magic, I guess?" Sans shrugged. "What, is it weird?"
"No. You have a squishy belly," Frisk shifted in his jacket a bit, grinning at him. "I guess that's how you can stomach all those jokes."
"Ayy !" Sans ruffled their hair, a strong sense of pride welling up in his chest. Sans just leaned back and sighed as the news report went on about something happening downtown. He could just stay like this for a while. Forever, for all he cared. He was happy. He really hoped that Frisk was, too. It was then that he realized that Frisk had fallen unusually silent, and he cracked an eye socket to discover why. Frisk's attention was entirely on the television, and it didn't take Sans more than a moment to discover what they were staring at.
Gregory Mai stood before a crowd of humans as reporters held microphones in front of his face, and he was furiously speaking as cameras flashed. A small red strip ran across the bottom of the screen, describing the almost unspoken death of another on the streets.
"These freaks are taking our jobs," Sans felt his marrow begin to boil the longer that he stared. "Taking our CHILDREN. That's why these 'monsters' are dropping like flies, they don't BELONG here, and they f-king know it. Our city, our homes, our FAMILIES aren't going to be safe until every single last one of these abominations are put back where they belong -"
Sans flipped the channel faster than he thought that he could manage, and he could feel Frisk shaking terribly inside his jacket. He softly petted their hair, closing his eye sockets with a frown. Even in the safety of their own home that prick was still making life miserable for everyone. Sans sincerely hoped that he tried to come back. He didn't care how many witnesses were around, the next time he saw that bastard he was going to curb stomp him until there wasn't anything left to smash.
"How 'bout we just watch one of those Disney movies you like so much, huh?" Sans stroked Frisk's hair, and they thankfully stilled a little. A low rumble of thunder rumbled above and they shivered again, and he only held them closer. Frisk didn't move to get up and put in a movie, and Sans didn't bother getting up either. They just sat there in complete silence for what felt like hours, holding each other close.
The rain still hadn't let up by the time Grillby finally arrived.
Frisk was fast asleep on the couch, and since Sans couldn't really remove them from his jacket without waking them he simply slipped out of it and covered them up with it like a makeshift blanket. He rolled his shoulders as he braced himself for the ass kicking that from Grillby that he most certainly deserved, and he pried open the front door to find the bartender standing beneath a bright red umbrella on the doorstep. Sans let him in wordlessly as the rain came down, and Grillby sighed quietly when he saw Frisk sleeping peacefully.
Sans just nodded toward the kitchen as Grillby placed his umbrella in a stand by the door, shaking a few flecks of steam from his clothes. He hadn't even changed out of his usual attire, but his sleeves were open as well as the top of his button up, his tie missing. Sans silently set about making coffee, yawning a bit as he placed a mug in front of the bartender and sat down across from him. Grillby gave him an odd look when Sans pulled out a bottle of hard cider that he pulled out of one of the top cabinets, filling half of his mug with it. Sans shifted a little guiltily before Grillby sighed and motioned for the bottle, pouring some into his coffee as well. Sans sat down slowly across from him, uncertainty pulling at his every thought. Grillby still hadn't spoken, and although the bartender was usually quiet, he was almost never this quiet. Maybe he just didn't want to accidentally wake Frisk. He hoped that was all.
But Sans knew better by now than to hope.
"… Gonna need a lot more," Sans tipped the bottle quietly around in a circle. He needed something stronger than cider.
"We need to talk," Grillby said quietly as he leaned forward, his elbows on the table and arms crossing over each other. Sans sighed internally. Should have figured that Grillby wouldn't beat around the bush.
"Yeah."
"So. We have a predicament on our hands."
"… We?"
"You didn't think that I would leave you to figure this out for yourself, did you my friend?"
Grillby asked in a surprisingly soft tone, and Sans looked away. He really had expected Grillby to be more angry. He had expected more of the furious, fiery, burning anger that had nearly turned him into a skeleton flambe. The fact that Grillby was being so calm, so quiet just… unnerved him.
"I… I don't know how I'm supposed to fix this," Sans took another drink and let the burning hit the back of his throat. He sighed heavily and hung his head, his thoughts weighing him down like iron on his back. "I just… goddamn. I'm… I'm sorry. I don't know how I can even
fix this."
"Well, we can start by involving Alphys a bit more," Grillby said quietly. "She has far more knowledge on human souls than I can provide."
"Already done," Sans shrugged without looking up. "We've been to the lab a few times, Al is still collecting data. We're… we're trying to figure out a way to… undo this. I don't even know much about soul bond… things."
"They are very peculiar," he replied in a low tone. "To break a soul bond… I only know of a couple of monsters that managed to do that and survive."
"You make it sound like it's dangerous," Sans chuckled humorlessly. Grillby only stared at him.
"That's because it is," Grillby said evenly. "To feel a soul bond break is enough to shatter a monster's soul. I can't say it would be the same for a human, but it is… excruciating, for lack of a better word." "Have… have you…?" Sans asked, taking another long drink and refilling his cup with nothing but hard cider. He could feel the heat already spreading through his chest and into his bones, warming his cheeks.
"When… when my spouse passed," Grillby began ever so slowly. "I… I was with her. I… I watched that beautiful flame flicker out. It happened slowly after she fell down, and-and… I could feel it. We were so closely intertwined that it felt as if part of me was dusting, too. It is… it is the most horrible pain I have ever endured. I fear that you and the little one may have to go through the same experience, and… gods above and below. I only wish that I could spare you both from that pain."
Sans was shifting uncomfortably as Grillby spoke, the bartender sipping quietly at his drink every now and then. Sans was used to a thick piece of wood separating them, but to have him in his own home, right across from him at the table made him feel much more vulnerable. He didn't particularly care for the feeling.
"So… it's… it's gonna hurt," Sans was already bracing himself, even though he felt just a bit fuzzy. "Is the kid gonna be okay?"
"I cannot say for certain," Grillby swirled his drink a bit, staring down at the table. "I can only hope so. But this must be undone, before it grows worse."
"Worse ?" Sans was sweating fully at this point.
"A soul bond is something special, Sans," he explained lowly. "Something between two monsters who vow to give their lives, their souls, their very beings to each other. To violate that sanctity, that sacred treaty between two beings, is…"
Grillby fell silent suddenly, and Sans had to lean back in alarm when the top of Grillby's head suddenly flared bright blue for a few moments, scorching heat rolling off of him in waves. It was gone within a few moments though, but Sans didn't relax any, even though Grillby was sitting with his eyes closed and breathing heavily. Sans marveled yet again at the sheer amount of control that Grillby must have had over himself. He must have wanted to bake Sans so badly. He could relate. Sans couldn't really stand being conscious that much longer, anyway.
"… I really, really fucked up here, didn't I…?" Sans croaked miserably, rubbing his tired eye sockets. He was still far too sober for this, even though the cider was warming his bones it didn't seem to help much. He needed more. Hell, he would even go for human alcohol at this point, he knew he had some stashed away. He magicked open the cabinet and used blue magic to fly the wobbling bottle over to him, shaking hands pouring the clear liquid into his mug. He took a few swigs of it and almost choked from the taste, and Grillby motioned for him to pass it his way. Sans obliged and Grillby drank straight from the bottle, his fire dulling for a few seconds as he drank. The bartender placed the bottle down on the table a little too loudly, letting out an irritated sigh.
"I cannot claim to have any answers to this predicament," Grillby frowned, taking another drink. He shuddered for a moment, his flames dancing a strange multitude of color. It occurred to Sans that he had never actually seen Grillby drunk. It seemed to have odd effects on him. "But we are going to find a way to resolve this conflict, any way that we can. Perhaps we can find out more on breaking soul bonds by speaking to the king and queen-"
"No," Sans replied instantly. "No. Please, man. Anything but that. I-I just… I can't. I can't drag them into this. Oh god. Oh god Tori's gonna fucking butcher me," Sans ran a hand over the top of his sweaty head, the panic beginning to rise again. "Oh god, oh Jesus this is bad."
"Do you really think she can go forever without knowing?"
"God I can only hope so," Sans's bones were rattling no matter how hard he tried to still himself. He took another long, hard swig to try to calm his shaking bones, and was surprised when he found the warm touch of Grillby's hand on his. Sans was still trembling, and looked up in slight confusion at the expression that the bartender was giving him.
"You have an ultimatum, Sans," Grillby said quietly. "We are at an impasse. I will leave it up to you when you tell her about your… situation with the ambassador. Not if. When."
When .
Sans never thought that he would hate a word so much. Not nearly as much as he hated himself, though.
"So that's-that's one option…" Sans almost recoiled at his touch. He felt too dirty, too filthy to deserve to be touched by someone so good. He was just wrong on every imaginable level. He didn't even know how Grillby could stand to be around him at all. "What's, uh… the other option?"
"Either we ask the king and queen…" Grillby started slowly. "Or…"
"Or?"
"Or we try to undo the bond ourselves," he steepled his fiery fingers together, staring at something between his hands. "Before something terrible occurs."
"Hard to imagine how it could get worse," Sans replied with a despairing rasp. Grillby only looked at him strangely and shook his head.
"Are they… are they happy, Sans?"
"You know…" he rubbed his weary eye sockets. "I ask myself that same question, every single day. And every day, every single goddamn day, I'm fuckin' terrified that they're going to say that
they're miserable here, unhappy just being around me, and the resets are gonna start all over again and everyone's going to die and it'll be my fault, all my fault all over again and again and again and-!"
"Sans - Sans!" Grillby snapped his fingers in front of the skeleton's face, causing him to jump from the sudden spark. "Breathe, Sans. What are you talking about?"
"I already told you," Sans laughed, but there was absolutely no humor in his voice. "I've told you so, so many times. It doesn't matter. Nobody remembers."
"… So tell me again."
"What?"
"Tell me again," Grillby scooted his chair from around the side of the table, sitting directly next to Sans. "If there is something that is bothering you and I seem to have forgotten, then tell me again. And tell me again, and again, and again, until I remember. Please, Sans. I can see how badly you are hurting. I am here for you, my friend."
Sans could only stare at the fire elemental in shock, unable to process what he was really hearing. Grillby had listened to him many, many times. More times than he could even count anymore.
"Grillbz, I…" Sans started, looking away. He was so miserable, so ashamed of himself. How could he call himself a friend? How could he even call himself a proper monster? He wasn't. Not really. He was just an abominable creature that never should have been made, and even thinking about it he could feel that damnable smirk from the shadows, even though he knew that nobody was there. Sans stared away out the kitchen window and honestly expected to see snowfall, but instead it was only the light dreary drizzle that had been plaguing them for the last few days. He missed the sunshine. He wanted to go outside and just be for a while. He wanted to take Frisk on a trip to the park and buy them nice cream, see them smile, see them laugh, see them happy. But could he even give them that, with what he had done? Could he undo the damage? And they were damaged, without a doubt. They were so hurt. And maybe being around him was just making it worse.
"If… if you do not feel that you can handle this on your own," Grillby started after a while, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "I could… take care of them. For you, I mean."
Sans felt like he had just been backhanded.
"Nobody is takin' my kid," he almost growled, fists clenching tightly over the table and nearly spilling his drink. He was too loud, but he didn't care anymore. Frisk was fast asleep, they wouldn't hear. "I made a promise to take care of them. And I swear to god, I am gonna keep that promise, even if it fuckin' kills me."
"You're beginning to understand what it means to be a father, then," Grillby said simply. He just looked so worn out, so burned down, so tired that Sans truly felt for him. He could easily relate. He was beginning to develop a pounding headache that no amount of cider was going to help, but he continued to drink anyway. The floor seemed a mile away and the walls were beginning to spin, but he didn't care. He wondered if Grillby felt somewhat like he did. He certainly seemed to be keeping it together much more than he was, he was one bad push away from breaking down and crying and god he hated himself for being so weak .
Sans sighed quietly and held his head in his hands, closing his eye sockets and shutting out the rest of the world. He felt a soft, tender and warm touch on his shoulder, and he didn't even bother to look up to know that Grillby was still there. He was a good parent. A good friend. A good person. Maybe Frisk really would be happier with Grillby. They could be somewhere that they could be happy. With someone that could make them happy, someone that would take care of them probably better than he could. Not with the type of person that got blackout drunk, dug a human gun out of the garbage behind a resort and blew skull chunks all over the wall in front of a crowd. And he wondered silently if Frisk would be better off without him, but more than that… could he even live without them? They had become such a staple in his life. He got up in the morning for them, dragged himself out of bed when all he wanted to do was lie there and never get up again. They gave him purpose when he had none, gave him drive to keep going, to be better. And he wanted to be better, he had to be better for them.
But what if 'better' was never, ever going to be good enough?
That thought persistently stuck around no matter how hard he tried to banish it, all throughout the rest of the evening.
Sans lay staring up at the dark ceiling, unable to sleep no matter how hard he tried.
Grillby had left a while ago, but he could still feel the elemental's warm touch on his bones. He ever so slowly placed a hand on his shoulder where Grillby had held him in a hug before leaving, thoughts mingled with confusion. He didn't feel that way about Grillby. That was just silly. He was drunk and it was affecting his mind. The rain was still coming down, and a part of him wondered if Grillby would be alright with his little red umbrella. Water was not a good thing for fire elementals, and the rain had only begun to come down harder ever since he had left. Sans sighed quietly and closed his eye soockets again.
He was being stupid. Reaching out for someone that wasn't even there. He wasn't so out of touch with himself that he would start developing emotional attachments to someone that he didn't even know all that well. He wasn't crazy.
And no matter how many times he told himself that, it still didn't help.
The texts from Blake indicated that Papyrus would be out for the rest of the night, but from the sound downstairs it seemed as if his brother had returned anyway. He could hear a chair scraping across the floor. He could hear noise in the kitchen, a quiet rustling and closing of cabinets, and it was pretty clear that Papyrus was making spaghetti again. Though why he would be making it at this time of night was a mystery. Sometimes Papyrus just got up and cooked, or stayed up all night and cleaned things that didn't need to be cleaned. Maybe it was his own way of coping with stress, like trying to shut himself off from the world was Sans's. He squeezed his eye sockets shut and tried to drown out the noise, his own thoughts louder than he would have liked. He was definitely going to be hungover in the morning, but for now he didn't care. He could just stay here and make believe that things were going to be fine. Grillby's words still haunted him no matter how much he wanted to think of something, anything else.
Would Frisk be happier? Living with someone else?
Didn't they need him?
Maybe they didn't.
Maybe they never did.
Sans sighed again and clutched his aching chest. God, how he would have preferred that Grillby just beat him down into dust. This was so, so much worse. This was torture . He didn't want to send them away, he didn't want his little babybones to be taken away. He just wanted to hold onto them and make things better, give them the life that they deserved. He desperately wished that he didn't need them at all. Maybe if they were to live with Grillby they would be better off. Safer. Happier. Hell, their not-mom was right next door, they would be so much better off living with her than him. Even… even if he would miss having them around. Miss seeing their eyes light up whenever he fed them a treat. Miss seeing them bounce around so energetically when they got to see their friends. Miss hearing that delighted little giggle that made his soul melt a little every time he heard it.
He heard the clink of glass and his eye sockets cracked back open just as he was about to finally drift off, and he groaned quietly as he sat up. The floor was still spinning, he really did have far too much to drink. Human alcohol made his mind a bit too fuzzy, and without the pleasant tingle of monster's drinks. He missed having drinks at Grillby's without having to worry about anything. He found himself longing for a nice bottle of ketchup and the bartender's company as they swapped terrible jokes, and he rubbed his eye sockets tiredly before dragging himself forcefully out of bed. He needed to talk to Papyrus. Papyrus would know what to do. His brother was so much better than him, he had to know how to fix this. He didn't care how drunk he was, he was going to explain some things to Papyrus that needed to be said, and then his brother could hate him properly and he could rest easy knowing that at least he tried for once in his life before he fell down completely.
He didn't bother with his slippers as he pulled himself toward the door, missing his jacket. Frisk must have still been using it as a blanket on the couch, as he hadn't bothered to try to wake them up and get them in bed. They just looked comfortable, he didn't want to wake them at the time. However, Frisk was not on the couch as he descended the stairs in complete silence, the quiet click of bone feet on wood the only noise in the house, aside from the muttering he heard coming from the kitchen. He frowned and stumbled forward, almost falling and catching himself on the couch. Oh god he was really going to regret this in the morning. Sans continued anyway and poked his head into the dark kitchen, clinging to the doorway as he flicked the light switch on.
The sight of blood almost made him lose it completely.
The child in the floor was backed up against the lower cabinets with a half empty liquor bottle between their legs, his jacket draped around their shoulders as they ran thin slivers of dripping red across their forearm with a kitchen knife. Sans was at their side in a heartbeat, snatching the knife drunkenly away from them and almost cutting his fingers with it. He threw it into the sink, glaring down at the sobbing child. Their red eyes wouldn't meet his as they hiccuped miserably, rocking back and forth as they cried. And he had gotten onto Blake for not putting a lock on his liquor cabinet, god he was so fucking stupid.
"Kid," Sans said dangerously as he lowered himself onto his knees, careful not to fall over as he plucked the bottle from between their legs. "You mind tellin' me what the fuck you're doin'?"
"I'm sorry," Chara sputtered, letting out a pained hiss as Sans grabbed their injured arm. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, p-please… !"
"Hold still," Sans commanded quietly but firmly. "I'm gonna get some clean cloths and some bandages, god-goddammit, why do you do this?"
"I'm sorry," Chara heaved dryly, hair falling in their eyes as they looked away, tears streaming freely down their cheeks. "I'm s-sorry S-Sans, I'm s-so sorry, p-please, please don't send me away… !"
Sans froze suddenly, guilt pushing its way back into his chest. Had… had they overheard his conversation with Grillby? He was such an idiot, how much had they heard?
"I'm… I'm not sendin' you away," Sans lowered his voice a bit, pulling them into a light hug. They winced in pain and let out another choked cry, clinging to him with one arm and pressing their bloodied one to their chest and staining their shirt. "Just… fuck. Fucking Christ on a bike, kid. Why? Just… why'd you do this?"
"I deserve it," Chara scowled through their tears hatefully, glaring down at their arm. Sans just rocked them back and forth, holding them loosely in his arms. A bit of blood was starting to get on his jacket, but he didn't care about that. It was so strange, there was a time when he held his jacket more dear to his heart than he did his own life, and now it was this kid that had filled a void in his miserable existence. He didn't want to see them hurt, but dammit did they make him angry .
"You do not deserve to be hurt," Sans said softly, brushing their hair with his fingertips. "Fuck me running. You aren't going to do this, not ever, ever again. Do you understand me?"
Chara didn't respond. He furiously grabbed their injured arm and they let out a pained squeal of terror, and he instantly kicked himself. He was acting out of anger, he was being stupid, he had to fix this.
"… Hold still," Sans demanded and released his grip on them a little, and Chara squeezed their leaking eyes shut as tightly as they could, trembling furiously. What in the hell did he think he was doing? He shouldn't be making it worse, they needed help and he was hurting them, what in the fuck was wrong with him?
Sans reached deep for magic and tried to clear his angrily buzzing mind, to no avail. The magic answered his call regardless, and Chara gasped quietly as his hand glowed with a dull green hue. Even his own magic seemed to have something wrong with it. He hoped that it was from the alcohol. But Sans knew better by now than to do something as silly as hope. The cuts across their forearm began to fade as the wounds sealed themselves, magically cauterizing the cuts and leaving thin little scars across their wrist. He glanced up as magic pumped out of his hand, and instantly froze when he saw the expression on Chara's face. It was one of confusion, intermingled with shock, with pain, with pure pleasure. He stopped instantly and cringed deeply, hitting himself in the head a few times with the bottle, making it click and clunk against his forehead.
"Goddammit," he groaned, wishing desperately that the room would stop spinning. "Goddammit, god - fucking - dammit ."
Chara was just looking at him with a stare that he recognized. One that he could recognize anywhere. It was a plain, satisfied smirk, and the sheer fury that overloaded his head was so intense that his eye sparked a violent blue as magic burned out of his socket, causing them to shriek in terror and drunkenly try to kick away from him. Sans just held them tighter as Chara screamed in fright, pushing and sobbing hysterically as he tried to get a grip. Sans took a long, slow deep breath, closing his eye sockets and forcing the magic, the burning fucking rage at being manipulated down as deeply as he could manage, putting as many mental locks over it as he could manage. He just had to focus. Had to stay in the moment. Couldn't get dragged away to the black corners of his thoughts where he could still see that god awful smirk.
Chara was crying in choked little shakes as they shivered and went limp in his arms, covering their face with their arms. They still had his jacket around their shoulders, and Sans silently pulled it a little closer until it was stretched over the both of them, and he sat down against the cabinets with Chara in his lap. They continued to cry and tremble, but he only murmured softly to them and brushed their head and got their hair tangled in his phalanges, whispering gentle soothing nothings to them.
"It's okay," Sans said after a long while, letting the dim lights in his eye sockets return. "C'mon. Don't cry, babybones. It's okay."
"I'm sorry," Chara whispered, their voice full of fright. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry I w-won't do it again, I'm sorry, please don't kill me… !"
Sans felt as if he had just been punched in the throat. He choked and squeezed them tightly, but as gently as he could manage. They were so afraid of him. And was it really any wonder why? After what he had done to them, no wonder they panicked whenever they saw that flash of blue.
"H-hey," he said softly, trying not to be sick from just how disgusted he was with himself. "Hey. C'mon, b-babybones. It's okay. Nobody is gonna hurt you. I… I promise. Please, baby. Don't… don't cry. It's okay."
"I don't wanna die," they sobbed quietly. "Pl-please. Please, not… not again."
Chara just trembled in his arms, going completely limp again as they gave up trying to wriggle out of his grasp.
"… Do you just hate me?" Sans asked quietly, brushing their hair. He was just so tired. So exhausted. "I… I get it, kid. I really, really do. I hate me, too."
"… I don't hate you," Chara sniffled bitterly. "I wish I did. I want to. I w-want to so bad."
"I'm sorry," Sans whispered, holding them close. "God, I… I hurt you. I hurt you so many times. I'm… goddammit. I'm so fuckin' sorry, babybones. I just… I just wish that I could make things better. That's all I want. I just want you to be happy."
"I don't want to be sent away," Chara clung tightly to his shirt, not looking up at him. "Please."
"You… you two overheard, huh. Guess that's what I get for assumin' you were asleep."
"Of course we heard," they mumbled angrily, pulling at his shirt a little and glowering up at him with narrowed red eyes. "Frisk has a hard time sleeping without you."
Sans only shook his head, woozily picking them up in his arms. They wrapped their arms around his neck and held onto the jacket like it was a lifeline, and Sans carried them over to the nearest place of comfort that he could manage, which was the couch. He dropped onto it wearily with a sigh, closing his aching eye sockets for just a moment. It was going to take work to scrub the blood up. Great.
"You aren't going to touch alcohol again. Got it?" Sans cracked an eye socket and instantly regretted it, his head pounding. "You are so fucking grounded."
"So now you're going to punish me…?" Chara asked with a strange look as they sat in his lap, jacket draped around their shoulders.
"You're lucky I don't tell Paps," he growled deeply, causing them to flinch. He mentally kicked himself again, he didn't want to be scaring them, he just wanted them to get the damned message.
"… Okay," Chara said after a long while, slouching a little and pulling at their hair. "You… you don't have to repeat yourself. I'll… I'll be good."
"Good," Sans sighed again, giving them a small hug. "… I'm still mad at you."
"I'm mad at you too," Chara grumbled, but slid their hands around his neck and gave him a small hug anyway. They felt so light in his arms, he hated it. They should be heavier than this, not so rail thin, so small, so frail and easily injured. He silently vowed to get them to eat more, but that could wait until morning. At the moment he was far, far too drunk to deal with any of this bullshit.
It hit Sans then exactly what he was thinking.
Is that what he considered trying to take care of Chara? A waste of time? Just dealing with them? Weren't they his kid, too?
Didn't he even love them at all?
Guilt clawed angrily at his chest and he frowned, silently brushing their hair with his fingertips again.
"… Kid."
"Yeah, Sans."
"I just…" he started uncomfortably, uncertain of how to say what he wanted. "Even if I am kinda… well, a lot pissed off, I just… I just want you to know that it doesn't change a thing. I'm not sendin' you away or anythin' like that. I… I love you, babybones. Please, don't you ever, ever think otherwise, 'cause I love you more than anything."
"Even Papyrus?"
A dark, angry, violent part of him dug viciously into the forefront of his mind, and he had a great deal of difficulty putting a lid back on it.
"That isn't a fair question to ask," he said in as level a tone as he could. "I love you and Paps just the same. Don't try to make me choose between my bro and my kid. That's… that ain't fair."
"Okay," Chara slurred and swayed a little in his lap, staring hard at him. "Do you love Frisk more than me?"
There again was that pain in the gut feeling, and he closed his eye sockets for a moment. When he reopened them he saw just how dejected Chara was, how miserable, how hurt they looked, and it felt like his soul was being crushed.
"I love you just as much as I love Frisk. Okay?" Sans said softly as he held their cheek in his hand, meeting their gaze at last. "I don't play favorites. Yeah, you tend ta piss me off. But that doesn't mean that I love you any less. I love you both, you're my little babybones, and I will never, ever stop loving you."
Chara tried to speak before they choked up, squeezing their eyes shut before burying their face in his chest. He held them close as they sobbed, their shoulders heaving as he let them cry on his shoulder. He just pulled the jacket a little tighter around them, rubbing their back in soft concentric circles as he hushed them. It felt like hours and hours before they finally slowed the onslaught of tears, but no matter how badly he wanted to sleep, to just pass out he held onto them, brushing the hair from their teary eyes and kissing the top of their head.
"… Thank you," Chara whispered raspily after a while.
"You feel better?" Sans asked quietly.
"I feel wetter," Chara said as they wiped their eyes with their sleeves. Sans gave a soft snort and shook his head, giving them a gentle hug.
"Heh. Somebody must'a been chopping onions in here," he rubbed his eye sockets with the palm of his hand. "'Cause nobody as tough as you could be cryin', amirite?"
"Of course not," they sniffled, furrowing their brows. "I just… I'm so sorry."
"Hey. C'mon now, hush. No more of that," he kissed their forehead and made their cheeks redden as they looked away. "It's okay. I dunno 'bout you, but I could friggin' hibernate right now. You look pretty tired too, kiddo."
"I'm not," Chara stifled a yawn, wiping their eyes again. "I'm not. Shut up."
"… I missed you."
"Eat me, you did not."
"Can't prove that, ya little fart."
"I'll hurt you if I have to, bone bag."
"Yeah, yeah," he shrugged and gave them a gentle hug. "I love you, babybones."
"… I love you too, Dad."
For a while there, Sans thought that his soul couldn't possibly take any more. And here they were giving him heartache yet again. He wished that he could just stay like this, in their own little bubble away from the world. Quiet. Comfortable. Safe. He hoped against hope that he could just make them smile again. That he could fix all of his fuckups. That he could give them the life that they deserved. That he could be the person that they deserved. He was so afraid to hope, afraid that it would all be ripped away and they would all be torn back in time, reliving it all over and over again. Hope was a cruel, vicious little spark in his chest that forced him to continue no matter how much it hurt, no matter how bleak things might seem, he couldn't quite quash that vibrant, hopeful flaming spark that urged him to CONTINUE no matter what. He was determined to protect his little babybones, to be the father that they deserved. To give them the best life that he possibly could.
And even though Sans knew better than to hope, he couldn't help but just try.
Just a little.