Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The abundance of things individuals could do for enjoyment was a favorable aspect of finally being on the surface again.

And it wasn’t that the underground didn’t have anything amusing to do. In fact, there was enough of it to keep the world of monsters occupied. 

Alas, one could only go so many times to the same old amusement sites before they tend to grow dull.

So, if people now had all these options, why was it that, without fail, an alarming number of Sans’ dates would persist on going exclusively to restaurants?

… 

An uncomfortable air of silence blanketed the atmosphere after Sans had finished saying something. He looked up at the person opposite of him, who decided it’d be a good idea to romantically pursue him.

…

there’s that face again.

He found himself subconsciously toying with his silverware, clattering slightly against his empty porcelain plate and its clangor bleeding in with the other restaurant rackets.

There was this obnoxious love song playing gently, too. He’d often zone out, almost rolling the small pinpricks of his sockets when he happened to catch the corny ass lyrics.

is this really how people feel when they fall in love? or am i somehow missing out on some weird inside joke everyone but me is in on?

The lights from restaurants were almost disorienting at times. He never liked the ambience, yet there he was… on a dinner date.

Again.

Speaking of which, his current one was giving him that face.

They always made it.

It looked like their eyebrows were knitted together to form one singular brow. Their eyes would grow, nearing the size of the dinner plate that sat before Sans. And their lips would force a deep frown that would make Eeyore proud. They all in all looked very dismal.

And it was always his fault. Maybe he did it on purpose at this point.

For as long as Sans could remember, the whole spiel of love was at every turn he took. 

He never understood those around him who could go for practical hours on end spewing about it. How love-struck they were with their special someone due to some materialistic thing they’d possess. Or simply because ‘it was meant to be’ and happened on a whim, like some magical fairytale love story.

He always thought that perhaps it was because he hadn’t met ‘the one’ yet. You know, ‘the one’ who’d have him feeling all dizzy and fuzzy inside. Who he’d supposedly go to the ends of the Earth for. Who he simply could not live a single second without. Or whatever those cheesy love songs would claim, because he had never experienced it before.

And that was fine by him. He didn't mind whether or not he ended up finding someone who made him feel all of that.

Unfortunately, not everyone seemed to agree with Sans’ acceptance of potentially dying alone.

Almost anyone who knew him had questioned his sexuality due to his lack of romantic partners.

“Are you gay”, was probably the most frequent one he got.

He’d merely shrug and say something along the lines of, “beats me,” further spiraling them into confusion.

But in all honesty, Sans was pretty confused as well.

All he really knew was that he was him, whether that’d be gay, bi, hetero, something wedged in between, or maybe even nothing at all. He didn’t mind either way and never felt the need to really ‘come out’ to anyone if he were to figure himself out eventually.

Though, if he had a nickel for every time someone he viewed as a mere friend ended up professing their undying love for him out of what seemed to be complete nowhere, he’d probably have enough money to pay off his debt to Grillby’s by now.

There was a point when he started feeling too bad and lazy about rejecting so many people, considering it’d usually be a dealbreaker for them and inevitably end the friendship at that.

So, after what seemed to be one too many unmendable bonds, he decided it’d be best to simply throw himself from his comfort zone and dip his boney toes into the world of dating.

One thing led to another, and he made a groundbreaking discovery of how horrendous he was in the dating scene. This gave him a new leeway, having both the power of not needing to reject people while also getting more of what he wanted: being left to his own devices of staying single and far too lazy and unwilling to mingle.

Part of him felt like he had such a distaste for relationships because he merely wasn’t emotionally available for one, too. From what he’s observed, things could get pretty intense when it came down to the nitty-gritty; he didn’t like the idea of opening up and being so vulnerable with someone else. Emotions were scary. So sharing them with someone made him feel so uneasy, for lack of a better word.

He could never muster the courage to give bad news to good people, so maybe, he purposefully set himself up for failure when going on these dates. Just to avoid having to reject them.

…There was a pause

“Uhhh,” His date trailed, their eyes darting about, and Sans already knew they were attempting to construct an escape. It was composed all over their body, the way it was slowly but surely turning away from him. 

“I am so sorry to cut this short, but I completely forgot that I had to take care of…” They held a very concentrated thinking face as they rose from their seat. “…My sister-in-law’s cousin’s pet turtle. He can be a handful at times, and I don’t want them to feel like I left them hanging, y’know?”

There it was—the excuse to leave.

As much as Sans always wanted to call them out for these half-baked excuses, he simply didn’t have the energy or willpower to do so. It also saved him the trouble of ghosting them if they surprisingly wanted to go for another round, which was very seldom the case.

“…sure.” He muttered, shrugging.

–

The upside of being so terrible at dating (and having said dates at restaurants) was that they’d tend to want to vacate the vicinity with such short notice, the majority would forget to bring their food along with them.

Which led to him having an (almost) entirely free meal to give to his brother.

He shoved a hand into his pocket as he slumped back onto the bench underneath the bus shelter, retrieving his phone to pass the time and distract himself a while.

10:49 PM read the bright lock screen.

1 New Notification

paps

He unlocked it.

paps

SANS, WHEN ARE YOU COMING HOME

IT’S GETTING LATE

ALSO, I AM HOPING THE DATE WAS A HIT

THOUGH A VERY SMALL PART OF ME IS HOPING YOU’RE BRINGING ME THEIR FOOD

Sans’ everlasting grin grew a bit at those messages.

sans

omw bac bro

@ bus stop rn

d8 unsuccessful

mission aborted

hav ur food

lol

paps

DEAREST APOLOGIES, BROTHER. I DO SINCERELY HOPE YOU GET THEM NEXT TIME.

ALSO HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU TO STOP TEXTING ME LIKE THIS? IT IS VERY ANNOYING.

YOU DON’T HAVE TO ABBREVIATE EVERY OTHER WORD

sans

it ok

didnt lik em all tht much anyway

they talkt w their mouth full

& smelled lik an ol lady

paps

THAT IS QUITE DISGUSTING, YOU REALLY DODGED A BULLET THERE

HM, I ENJOY OLD LADY PERFUME IN MY OPINION BUT TO EACH THEIR OWN

sans

ikr

lol ok weirdo

cya @ the house in a few paps

paps 

HOW DARE YOU JUDGE MY IMMACULATE TASTE

SEE YOU THEN, BROTHER!

The sound of shoes trekking along the pavement called his attention over to the stranger they belonged to. He tilted his gaze from his phone screen to the stranger’s shoes for a split second, observing how filthy and worn-down they seemed.

He wasn’t one to judge when it came to other people’s footwear though, considering his pair of trusty pink and fuzzy slippers were the ones he had on.

He wasn’t able to take a complete look at you. He looked away quickly to not seem rude before you came to sit next to him on the bench.

He scooted over to make a little more space between you.

“Hey.” You greeted, and Sans internally groaned.

It was bad enough you wanted to sit right next to him but also wanted to interact with him?

“hey,” he grunted, almost immediately looking back at his phone. 

He pretended to scroll around a random social media platform he blindly picked. The skeleton attempted to look somewhat busy and concentrated so you could take the hint and wouldn’t bother him again.

“...It’s chilly out tonight.”

Hint not taken.

“yeah.” He kept it short, snippy, and halfhearted. He even slid himself as far on the edge of the bench as he could slide.

Sans was a social butterfly, one would say. But there were times socializing felt like too much… effort at times. And right now was one of those times. Especially since he just got finished with a shitty date.

Could this night get any worse?

“...Any plans for tonight?”

He spoke too soon.

Sans could already feel his patience thinning faster than a new dad’s hairline despite exchanging less than a few sentences with you.

“nope.” 

“Oh…heading home?”

…What the hell was wrong with you?

Clearly something because you were beginning to make him uncomfortable by how horrible you were at reading the room. Unfortunately, being blunt seemed like his only option here; you were starting to ask him one too many questions.

“dude,” He turned and caught your gaze, nearly cringing at the sight of you.

Despite the hood over your head, what was evident of your hair appeared to be a frizzy, tangled mess, almost looking like you got out of a fight with a hairbrush moments prior. Your eyebags were so deep and dark that they nearly resembled his own sockets and lips so chapped they were bleeding a little; it was rather appalling. Your (s/c) skin was so…discolored. Sans didn’t know much about humans, but he knew the look to your flesh was unnatural and frankly concerning.

…And, truthfully, you didn’t smell very pleasant either. There was this odor emitting from you, one of onions and garlic, as if you had never even known deodorant's existence. 

You stank.

You also seemed like the definition of a red flag, taking the clothes you were sporting into consideration. A mucky, oversized hoodie loosely hugged your upper frame as a black pair of jeans embraced the lower half.

…jeez. 

You looked like you had finished crawling out of a pile of rubble and waste. Sans almost felt bad for you.

Almost.

But, he knew how it felt like to be judged based solely on appearances alone. So, he gave you the benefit of the doubt although his gut screamed for him not to. 

You only stared at him, and he hadn’t realized he forgot to conclude his sentence before you began to talk again.

“Yeah?” You asked, urging him to continue.

“nothin’.” 

He wanted to ask if you were alright. Sure, he was a bit of an asshole, but that didn’t mean he was a heartless monster. Figuratively speaking, because literally? He was both of those.

But he couldn’t. It merely wasn’t his business. Instead, a deep breath fell from him, and he decided to answer your question.

“but yeah. i’m headed back home.”

“Oh, that’s cool. You live around here?” It was hardly noticeable, but you seemed to have slightly lightened up when he answered.

christ.

He was only responding out of pity at this point. It practically felt like too much energy ignoring you, honestly. That’s the thing he disliked most about humans, how determined they were in the things they did.

“yeah. few minutes out.”

You nodded, “Well you have a good night, then.”

Saved by the bell. Or, in this case, the bus, because its headlights were beaming from afar as it headed towards you two.

“uh thanks…” he dragged, watching as you merely got up from where you were sitting and casually walked away. 

…why’d they sit at the bus stop if they were only gonna leave?

The bus's brakes squealed to a stop as he sluggishly rose from his seat, never taking his pinpricks off of your departing frame.

maybe they just wanted to talk?

It was strange, though, you going out of your way to speak to a complete stranger who was also a monster. Humans never willingly do that, or at least the ones he’s met thus far. Maybe he was naive to think you were any different, hence the distrusting thoughts circling his mind.

The bus doors had welcomed him in, hissing as they popped open. He trudged toward them, one of his hands shoved deep into the pocket of his jacket as the other fished into his shorts to retrieve his wallet but.

shit.

He paused midway up the bus steps, frantically feeling at everything on his person but no sign of a wallet. His nonexistent stomach sank, scrambling to think back to when or where he had last seen it as the bus driver glared at him impatiently.

A swivel of his skull over to the side was enough for him to connect the dots as he watched your figure begin to flee from the scene.

they… pickpocketed me.

Sans had always avoided reacting in the heat of the moment when emotions ran high. He had made slews of mistakes doing so since it never tended to work out in his advantage. 

Regardless of how pissed he felt in that very moment, he swiftly and calmly dismissed himself from his only means of transportation.

Pondering your stealthiness, he knew this wasn’t your first rodeo. You’ve undoubtedly perfected your craft over time because he probably wouldn’t have noticed anything if he hadn’t payed the bus fare.

Considering you were out of his view, his only real option was to guesstimate your current location; you couldn’t have gone too far in a flat minute. 

With what seemed to be the mere bat of an eye, he had ‘shortcut’ his way to a small, dimly lit alleyway. And there you were, a mischievous smile spread onto your face as you ruffled through the contents of his wallet.

He knew he should have trusted his gut about you; his instincts had never failed him in the past.

It wasn’t that he was actually going to hurt you. You hadn’t committed some heinous crime against him or done anything too harmful, but he wasn’t in the best mood that night, which seriously pushed him over the edge.

He only wanted to scare you off, is all.

As you were about to retrieve the money from said wallet, he determined perhaps he could have a little fun while at it.

A little magic and the raise of a skeletal hand…

“GAH!” A shriek fell from you as you were dangled in the air and promptly flipped upside down. 

He merely observed you, hidden in the shadows, as you frantically looked to see what was holding you up. You attempted to hold your frame, coiling up at the abdominal like a rat being held by the tail, only to see that you were suspended by nothingness.

Your eyes widened in an emotion akin to terror, frantically wavering your gaze, swiveling your head every which way.

He slowly stepped into the soft light of the lamppost from afar to reveal himself. Once catching sight of him, your face had reverted to utter horror.

“don’t wanna leave ya hanging but it seems like you got something that doesn’t belong to you.” His words fell from his teeth venomously, and you flinched against every single one.

You reluctantly went to reach for something in your pocket. It was quick, but Sans was quicker, almost effortlessly backpedaling out of the way before your endeavor to rapidly slash at him with the object went to waste.

He narrowed his gaze at your hand as it recoiled back to find that it was a pocketknife, the blade gleaming against the weak streetlight.

“…that wasn’t very knife of you.” Despite the gravity of the situation, he couldn’t help tossing in a pun to ease him up a little, chuckling at his own joke. It seemed like you especially needed it.

“Put. Me. Down!” You snarled through clenched teeth and eyebrows furrowed deeply as the edges of your mouth dropped.

The face you were making at that moment reminded him of the ones his failed dates would wear.

Huh, deja vu.

“no can do, buckaroo. not only did you pickpocket me, but you also just tried cutting me up with that thing,” He pointed wearily at your hand that was holding the pocketknife.

You seemed bitter and upset. Not that Sans blamed you, he’d be the same if he were in your shoes. But you kind of did this to yourself.

“I’m gonna fucking—” 

You tried to, well, Sans wasn’t exactly sure what you were trying to do really.

Were you attempting to escape? If so, you were failing gravely as your body spasmed against your vigorous, unhinged movements.

He almost laughed.

“—MURDER YOU!”

There was another attempt of you practically straining yourself to swipe at him again with that sharp little weapon you humans loved wielding so much.

But, as stated, it was merely an attempt. He leaned back slightly, not even being grazed by it.

Damn, you were a feisty one.

“heh, that’s big talk for a fella whose situation doesn’t look very pleasing,” He tilted his head teasingly, looking at you from your flipped perspective with narrowed sockets. “you really like swinging that thing around, huh?”

A frustrated roar erupted from you. One Sans really wasn’t expecting.

jeez. how could someone like you be holding in so much fury?

His frame retreated to his usual vertical stance and he gave you a weird look.

“listen, pal. if i could, i’d probably be holding you here all night till all the blood rushes to that noggin of yours. but my arm is starting to get tired and i kinda got another bus to catch, thanks to you.”

Sans cast you a glare but this time you didn’t even flinch. The scowl on your face was creepy and the weird lighting was casting all sorts of shadows that made it worse. The way skin would flab and hang against gravity was not flattering in the least either.

He nearly shuddered. It seemed like you actually wanted to murder him.

“...so. do both of us a favor and give me back my wallet.”

There was a beat of silence between you two. Despite literally being suspended by the soul and dangled upside down, you just wouldn’t budge. You even went as far as to cross your arms sassily, pocketknife in hand and his wallet clenched so tightly in the other that the knuckles were almost white.

what a fuckin’ brat.

He dragged onto a long, nodding sigh. It seemed like his sour mood was surfacing.

“look. you seem young. probably got caught up in the wrong crowd to end up in this position. really don’t wanna hurt you. and i genuinely don’t think stealing from me would be worth your while.” 

He shut a singular eye socket, leering at you through the other. “but if you think six measly bucks and an array of embarrassing family photos is worth all this, then, by all means, do what you gotta do. but don’t say i didn’t warn ya.”

Your eyes enlarged a little at the words ‘six bucks’ and Sans watched your face twitch as though you outweighed the situation's pros and cons.

It almost felt like an entire century had gone by of him waiting for you to make a decision of some kind, feeling his arm getting sore from holding it up for so long. 

“Fine. I’ll give it to you.”

Those words finally being spoken were practically music to his nonexistent ears. But with all good things, a catch would closely follow.

“If you put me down…” You blinked choppily. “My head is starting to spin.”

“...i can think of plenty of reasons why that’d be a terrible idea.”

“Please.”

Man, if Sans were even slightly more of an asshole, he probably would’ve already taken the thing from you by now, whether you cooperated or not. Sadly, it seemed as though he was cursed with a conscience.

“fine,” he finally grumbled, slowly lowering his arm and your frame following suit, “just don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

An expression of relief contorted your features as he slowly but surely set you back up onto your feet, making sure to place you far away enough for his own comfort. 

Once you finally planted your filthy, worn-down shoes onto the ground and Sans’ magic had finally released you, your figure floundered to stay erect and firm. You wobbled about, body tottering over before you caught yourself against the bricked wall of the building beside you with a shaking arm.

He watched you compose yourself, shaking off the excess whirling sensation before hurling a look over your shoulder. You glared at him through one narrowed eye.

“toss it over. if i see you take a step in any direction, i won’t hesitate to throw you into that wall.”

You rolled your eyes like a preteen who got done being scolded, carelessly tossing the wallet to his feet.

“‘bout time.” He grumbled.

He gradually lowered himself to the ground, making sure to not rip his gaze from you even as he grasped it and stood upright again.

You kept staring daggers at him, your gaze just as unwavering and intense as his.

Sans shoved the rescued wallet into his pocket where it belonged.

Since he got what he went there for, he turned on his heel, refusing to bid you a single farewell. Not that you deserved one…at all.

But turning his back on you was his first mistake.

It seemed like you simply couldn’t put things to rest because shortly after literally three steps into his stride, he heard the sound of rushing footsteps from behind him.

If it weren’t for his cat-like reflexes, he definitely would have suffered a nasty slash to the chest from the pocketknife you intended to injure him with. Unfortunately for you, it seemed you hadn’t thoroughly thought out your malicious, hasty action.

Because seconds later, Sans watched as your clumsy ass tripped over your own damn feet. And it was as if the gods of luck had blessed him as you also fell face-first into a heap of garbage littered on the ground just inches away.

…And Sans didn’t even have to lift a phalange.

oh, the sweet irony.

Sans couldn’t help it this time; he chuckled. Cackled, really. Like an evil, scheming witch who just finished stirring a pot full of lethal poison, ready to nourish their worst enemy with it.

“oh, man,” He spoke brokenly through laughter and wiped a tear forming at the corner of his socket from laughing so hard, glaring at your quivering, pathetic frame laying on the garbage. “you just couldn’t quit, could you?”

 A small groan bubbled from you and Sans tried to contain more laughter.

“and all this for what?” He tilted his head at you, chuckling still. “six bucks? really?”

Your attempt to raise yourself from the trash with your trembling, feeble arms had resulted in oblivion.

This was sad.

“bet you’re hoping your little move back there was a six-cess right now.” Frankly, he couldn’t help it. The puns were practically pouring out of him. “well, i’m glad the trash took itself out.”

One could metaphorically hear the ‘ba-dum-tss’ of a drum.

He bid you one final wink before taking his leave, laughing to himself back to the bus stop.

Chapter Text

Having been up on the surface for a few years, one might be led to believe that humans wouldn’t have their panties in a bunch over anyone or anything scarcely different from them.

Sadly enough, panties were, in fact, in a bunch—several at that.

It wasn’t uncommon to see humans posted outside of monster-safe areas or what was supposed to be monster-safe. The vile ones would be screaming and shouting obscenities at every monster within the region, holding up signs with phrases and words so obscene that even the devil himself would wince at.

And they claimed they’d be ‘exercising their right to protest.’

Teleportation proved to be extremely useful in this situation. Sans didn’t even have to do so much as flutter a socket lid to visit these said monster-safe places.

A little shortcut, a flash cut between the thin fabric of time and space matter sprinkled across a vast, indigo sea of galactic stars and milky ways swirling amidst one another… and voilà! Sans and his brother Papyrus were already inside one of the many few monster-safe spaces, secure from having to be screamed at and belittled by the crowd of angry humans huddled right outside.

The MTT-Brand Burger Emporium.

Sans didn't care much for the place even when they were down below. He was more a Grillby’s-kind-of-guy. His brother, on the other hand, was a fanatic.

Often, the two would ‘bicker’ (of course, that term was used loosely because usually, it’d just be Papyrus yelling and Sans joking around to piss him off) over what they’d grab for grub that day. 

Said ‘bickering’ would result in one of two things—a coin flip, heads representing the emporium, and tails Grillby’s. Or Sans would just immediately give in and let his brother win anyway. 

“WE COULD HAVE JUST TAKEN MY CAR, YOU KNOW,” Papyrus pressed onto the conversation they were having prior to said shortcut, the brothers walking further into the emporium as they conversed. “I COULD HAVE RAN OVER A FEW OF THOSE PROTESTERS ON THE WAY HERE. KILL TWO BIRDS WITH ONE STONE, AS THEY SAY!”

Sans laughed at that. He found it hilarious to visualize someone as sweet and pleasant as Papyrus doing something violent and gruesome as vehicular manslaughter.

“you? harming something? you couldn’t even hurt a fly if you wanted to, bro.”

“THAT IS UNTRUE!” Papyrus deflected, slightly offended by his brother’s remark. “I’VE HARMED PLENTY OF FLIES!”

“oh yeah?” Sans asked with amusement, skimming the cashier's center.

The anthropomorphic cat that usually staffed the reception counter was nowhere to be found as they neared it. There wasn’t anyone there, actually.

Perhaps they were booked, was all. This place tended to get busy around certain hours.

“YES! AND DID I FEEL GUILTY ABOUT IT?” A look overcame the lanky skeleton’s skull features for a moment as though he were sorting his brain. “WELL…YES, ONLY A LITTLE, BUT STILL!”

Sans shook his head and chuckled.

“you’re funny.”

“I KNOW I AM!” Papyrus spoke as though he were addressing everyone in the room. “NOW, WHERE IS THE EMPLOYEE? I’M STARVING!”

The pair looked around, but nobody came.

Sans merely shrugged.

"maybe–” 

Suddenly, a loud clatter muffled by the thick walls emanated from what could only be the kitchen had startled them.

There was screaming and yelling that followed shortly after, along with the sound of pots and pans violently clattering against collision.

The commotion all but roared on, and every monster in the room gave each other looks of concern.

“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT !?” Papyrus cried, snapping a look of confusion over to his brother. Sans couldn’t help mirroring the expression as the chaotic noises raged on.

“your guess is as good as mine.” He said, shrugging with slightly widened sockets.

Suddenly, a frantic figure burst from a door labeled ‘EMPLOYEES ONLY.’ 

Wearing nothing but black clothing, the hooded figure had a shadow cast over their face, making it indecipherable to make out any of their features. Their staggering breathing trembled their frame, seemingly catching their fleeting breath. 

Every monster in the room seemed to collectively gasp or make a noise of surprise at the sight of such an ominous creature making an equally alarming entry. 

The being was fast , scurrying away on all fours like a wild animal as the cat-monster employee had suddenly emerged right behind them.

“SCREW YOU!” Burgerpants yelled after them, wildly swishing around a broom in his hand as the unidentified being had scrambled out the exit.

…

Although it all happened so quickly, the person's clothes seemed… familiar to Sans.

was that…?

He shook his head, dismissing the thought entirely. Perhaps his mind was merely playing tricks on him. A lot of people wore all black.

The two skeleton brothers watched Burgerpants mutter curses under his breath and retreated to the reception counter where he belonged, reflexively drawing closer to him as low murmurs scattered from the other monsters abiding the building — likely talking about the disturbance just caused.

“BURGERPANTS! ARE YOU ALRIGHT!?” Papyrus asked, and BP directed his irritated gaze toward him.

His annoyance slightly faltered at the sight of the two skeletons.

“I’m fine. That asshole just snuck in and tried smuggling some food again.” He grumbled, rolling his eyes and dusting off his work uniform.

“again?” Sans echoed, raising a bone brow.

“Yeah, they’ve been stealing from us so often, some of my coworkers and I decided we should camp out in the food storage to catch them this time.” Burgerpants responded, “But they slipped away somehow. Didn’t get to steal any food, thankfully, but still.”

So this was a common reoccurrence…?

“WOWIE! YOUR DEDICATION TO THIS EMPORIUM IS IMPRESSIVE, BURGERPANTS! YOU’D DO ALL THAT TO PROTECT METTATON’S DELECTABLES FROM BEING STOLEN?”

Burgerpants let loose a laugh of irony at that, “What!? Hell no! I could give less of a shit about this place. We just wanted to get the reward by turning that fucker in.”

“OH.” Papyrus’ face fell, but his curiosity proceeded. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN… REWARD ?”

In place of replying, the cat pointed at the wall behind them. Two pairs of socket lights followed the pointed finger to gaze upon what seemed to be a bulletin board. And there appeared to be several sheets of multicolored articles pinned to it.

Upon drawing closer and inspecting it, they had discovered what Burgerpants was pointing out.

Right in the middle of the bulletin board was a wanted poster.

Sans’ previous thoughts were correct. That was you back there . Because there, right smack dab middle of the poster, was your mug shot with all your information...

MOST WANTED

*PREFERABLY ALIVE*

NAME: Y/N L/N

AGE: 25

GENDER: ???

CRIMES: ASSAULT, THEFT, BREAKING AND ENTERING, SHOPLIFTING, DUI, DISORDERLY CONDUCT, VANDALISM, ARSON, JOY-RIDING, ETC.

REWARD $ 6,666

To say you looked like a feral animal in the picture was an understatement. Aside from your atrocious appearance, your teeth were barred and fanged like a hostile canine readying to rip someone’s throat out. The scowl on your face was enough to intimate anyone who dared to cross you. And your eyes . Sans wasn’t sure if it was the weird lighting or the camera's flash, or maybe even his eyes deceiving him. But he could have sworn your pupils were bloodshot red like a literal demon.

There was a small black letter board held tightly in your hands too.

EBOTT COUNTY SHERRIFF’S DEPARTMENT , it read.

“THAT’S WHERE UNDYNE WORKS!” Papyrus stated, amused.

That was right… their dear friend Undyne was a cop in training at said department. 

Did that mean she knew who you were?

Sans couldn’t help skimming back to read the amount for the reward. 6,666. It was almost ironic how much you were worth, yet the night you pickpocketed him, you fought tooth and nail just to scrounge up a mere six bucks?

“paps.” Sans nudged his brother’s side to rip his attention from the sheet over to him.

“WHAT?”

“uh, so, you know how i told you i got pickpocketed the other day?”

A curious brow bone rose on the taller of the pair, his voice urging for him to continue, “...YES?”

“well, the fella on this poster.” A phalange wavered over to place itself on your picture, drawing Papyrus to stare back at it. “i’m ninety-nine point nine percent sure that they’re the person in question.”

The look on the slim skeleton’s face had suddenly shifted to one of surprise. Without notice, a raucous, “HOLY SHIT! REALLY!?” had barreled passed Papyrus’ hanging jaw.

The attention of virtually everyone within a twenty-mile radius had been pulled, which caused Papyrus to lower his voice to a reasonable volume. Or what was reasonable in his standards and criteria anyway.

Sans only nodded to confirm it was true.

“OH MY GOODNESS…!” The cape-wearing monster had continued, eye light trained studiously onto your face.

It was as if he was scanning every detail over your picture in search of something new to catch. Sans watched him rub his chin with a gloved hand, sockets narrowed.

“WELL, THEN! IF THIS SO-CALLED ‘Y/N L/N’ IS SO WANTED, IT IS MY DUTY AS A FAITHFUL CITIZEN OF EBOTT TO SEIZE THEM! TO AVENGE YOU , BROTHER! AND MAKE UNDYNE PROUD!” There he went again, his voice twice as loud as usual, if possible.

Everything that Papyrus said sent Sans into slight alarm. Sans had to hand it to you; you knew how to deceive people into getting what you wanted by pulling the pity card. He fell victim to it just days ago.

And as capable and robust as Papyrus was, he tended to be a bit too sweet and naive for his own good. It was undoubtedly one of his best qualities, but in this situation, it would not be beneficial to him in the slightest.

“ya sure?” Sans had to ask to double-check if he actually wanted to go through with it. “i will admit, this human’s pretty mischievous.”

“OF COURSE I’M SURE! WHAT KIND OF CITIZEN-SLASH-BROTHER-SLASH-BEST FRIEND WOULD I BE IF I DIDN’T AT LEAST TRY!?”

A chuckle rolled from Sans, and he shrugged, closing his eyes, “alright then, bro. won’t get in your way.”

Burgerpants scoffing sounded from behind them as he picked up their not-so-private conversation.

“Tsk. Good luck with that . There’s a reason that little fucker is roaming free as we speak. They always find a way of escaping somehow.” The miserable employee sneered, rolling his eyes deeply as if he seemed to be recalling all the times he’d attempted to trap you, only for you to flee and escape time and time again.

Being his optimistic self, Papyrus hadn’t even deflated from that statement. It only seemed to inflate his enthusiasm and zeal.

“THEN MARK MY WORDS, BURGERPANTS! BECAUSE I SHALL BE THE ONE TO CATCH AND RETAIN THIS HOOLIGAN SUCCESSFULLY! AND I WILL BRING THEM TO UNDYNE SO WE CAN BOTH REAP THE BENEFITS! NYEH HEH HEH!”

That was one hell of an oath. Of course, Sans was rooting for him as he did for anything his brother would hyper-fixate over. He definitely couldn’t prevent this even if he had the energy to do so; when Papyrus set his mind to something, he would do it one way or another. His determination was unwavering and quite frankly admirable.

His brother was just so cool like that.

Suddenly, with a swift movement, Papyrus reached over and ripped the poster from the board.

“uh, paps. i don’t think you’re allowed to do that–”

“I’M GOING TO NEED THIS! SO I CAN RECOGNIZE THEM ONCE WE CROSS PATHS WITH THEM AGAIN!” He roared, folding it heedlessly and stuffing it into his pocket.

“paps–”

“DON’T WORRY, BROTHER! I SHALL AVENGE YOU... RIGHT AFTER I ORDER OUR USUAL, OF COURSE!” Papyrus raced back to the counter to finish the task that they had teleported there in the first place.

As San followed suit, something from the corner of his socket caught his attention.

He wasn’t sure how or why it did amongst the other blobs and blurs shifting around his peripheral. Perhaps it was how it moved and zipped, as though in frustration. 

He swiveled his skull to focus on a tiny white dog sniffing away at the ground from afar, completely and blissfully unaware of its surroundings as it did so. Somehow, despite not even shifting its beady little black eyes from the foot, it managed to dodge any and all obstacles barricading its little way.

The closer it got, the more Sans began to note how dirty its fur was, hardly passing as a white dog.

Amid its sniffing voyage, he reached Sans’ slipper, inspecting it with its curious wee nose. And finally, it craned its head up to gleam at the skeleton said slipper belonged.

A small tail wagged at the mere sight of the skeleton gleaming back down at him just as Papyrus finished up with his order.

“what’s up, dog? tryna sniff out something?”

“SANS, I JUST ORDERED FOR THE TWO OF US SINCE YOUR LAZYBONES DIDN’T BOTHER TO–” There was a very abrupt pause during Papyrus’ sentence. Sans couldn’t help tossing over a look to see what had caused it, catching sight of his brother staring down at the canine in an expression that could only be paired with disgust. “OH MY GOSH! THAT THING IS SO FILTHY!”

Sans wavered his gaze back at the dog. It was so animated, reacting as though he fully understood what Papyrus had said. 

Puppy dog eyes commenced.

“...that’s a bit ruff , don’t ya think?” The older skeleton responded in defense to the mutt. “he didn’t mean that little guy–”

“OH, I MOST CERTAINLY DID! I BET ITS COAT IS CRAWLING WITH FLEAS!”

…Papyrus was not wrong. The dog looked like it’d been through Hell and back. He hadn’t caught it before but scrutinizing it now had him noting how matted and tousled his fur honestly looked.

Christ. He could only really guess that this was either a homeless dog or severely neglected by its owner. He was hoping it wasn’t the latter. Some people didn’t deserve to have dogs.

His brother was in the right, but he couldn’t help teasing him.

“paps, it seems like you’re really barking up the wrong tree right now . ”

“SANS, PLEASE.” Papyrus cried, crossing his arms and narrowing his sockets at him.

A small laugh fell from the pun-loving monster as he resumed his undivided attention to the tiny dog. He couldn’t help feeling drawn to it, almost like a moth to a flame. He found himself leveling down to crouch before him, reaching a hand over and-

“OH GOD, SANS, DON’T PET IT!” His brother cried, and Sans could almost hear Papyrus’ soul chipping away when his hand gingerly placed itself onto the dog's coat, brushing against it in soft strokes. 

“NO! OH MY GOD, STOP THAT! YOU DON’T KNOW WHERE THAT THING HAS BEEN !” 

“don’t you have a heart, paps?” Sans commented playfully as he watched its tail go on hyperdrive. “look at the little guy. he’s so happy ‘cause i went out of my way to show him some love.”

His last statement almost seemed to sway Papyrus, seeing his eye lights shift to the dog in a nearly guilty manner. Alas, it disappeared as he continued his distaste for the dog.

“NO, I DO NOT! AND NEITHER DO YOU! NOW STOP PETTING THAT MANGY THING!” 

Just as he uttered that, the dog had twisted its little head over to the tall, lean skeleton.

Papyrus’ sockets reflexively widened when he watched it near him, taking a step back every time the dog would get closer.

“STAY BACK!” He warned, holding out two cautious hands. “I WILL KICK YOU IF NEED BE!”

The dog simply did not consider Papyrus’ commands because he suddenly rubbed up against his boot.

Sans was attempting with every bone in his skeletal body not to laugh when his brother stiffened up, a look of pure and utter disgust overtaking every nook and cranny of his boney expression. 

And he, in fact, did not kick the dog as he had threatened. He only glared down at it with an empty, disgusted face.

A sudden, thunderous cry of distress had released from him, after seemingly getting over his initial shock, “MY BOOTS! MY PRECIOUS BOOTS ARE SOILED! I NEED TO WASH THEM IMMEDIATELY! OH MY GOSH. NO.”

And before he knew it, his long legs carried him away from the scene faster than Sans’ eyes could perceive. It was just a flurry of red and white before ultimately disappearing.

The dog looked so smug and pleased after Papyrus left; Sans could have sworn he even saw a slight smirk curling against his tiny lip when he retreated to Sans’ kneeled figure.

“wow, little fella. seems like you and i have a lot in common already.” He said in between laughter, casting it a wink as though it’d even remotely understand what it meant, “we both really love fucking around with my brother.”

The dog released a string of happy barks, and Sans’ hand couldn’t help reaching over to scratch its tiny head again. Something about this little guy really struck a chord in Sans’ absent heart.

“Order for Sans and Papyrus!” The call for his anticipated lunch had rung out from an employee clutching two fancy, yellow paper bags. 

From afar, the color gave the illusion of the material composed of gold, which was undoubtedly what Mettaton was striving for.

But upon them carrying it closer and handing it to him, the delusion had crumpled away, Sans gawking at a cheap and tacky product instead.

Before he had the opportunity to stand back up, the dog he had been kneeling for had practically zipped over to the bag and began to sniff at it intensely.

“...want some?” Sans asked like he was expecting the dog to respond.

Much to his pleasant surprise, he did, immediately snapping its gaze over to the kneeled skeleton and letting loose a bark, his fluffy tail going at impossibly fast speeds.

He then wasted no second uncoiling the rolled-up top of the paper bag and searching its contents for any loose goodies. His phalanges presumed to grasp and retreat a Mettaton-shaped fry that had escaped its container imprisonment, bestowing it upon the dog.

Its eyes, which were once just tiny little black beads, had widened so large that Sans swore they almost sucked him in like black holes at the mere sight.

“here ya go, little fella,” He said, tossing it to the floor before him. “go nuts.”

The dog had immediately scarfed it into its mouth, as expected. What wasn’t expected was how gingerly it held it in between its slightly jarred jaw, only staring at Sans like he was telepathically thanking him with just the look of those big old eyes. He didn’t even eat it. Didn’t bite down. Usually, dogs would swallow the thing whole without a second thought.

Then, he merely scuttered away as though he were on a studious mission, dodging anything, zipping between moving legs, jumping over caution signs, and ultimately leaving out the front doors.

…

His soul practically urged him to follow the dog out of the two front doors to which he had glued his sockets.

His only hesitation was due to the mass of racist humans standing outside.

Even so, his soul just…

…

The weight of his heels as he stood erect, treading closer to the doorway, felt heavier with each step as if gravity were forcibly pulling him downward. However, it surprised him once he eventually made his way to those doors despite these inconveniences.

With a deep breath and a leap of faith, he opened them.

The doors groaned in response; the noise that immediately greeted him was the collective, bitter fury of the mob outside. Sans pictured them holding lit torches and pitchforks like the movies portrayed…

…It definitely would have been hilarious to see. Alas, there wasn’t any sight of such a thing.

Despite the monster guards and small barricades retaining back the surges of their outrage, it was difficult not to feel vulnerable, fully expecting one of them to leap out and attempt to harm him physically.

He trained his gaze onto his moving slippers, unwilling to humor these people with his knowledge. He knew how to deal with them and was used to it by now, but it felt like it never got any easier. 

Their words were the worse part.

Insulting and offensive names he hadn’t even known existed were hurled in his direction—hollering phrases threatening his life. He was treated with appalling cruelty overall.

Sadly, as angry as it made him, his reaction would only worsen things.

He was just glad he got it over with before finally turning the corner of the emporium building, almost immediately spotting the dog trotting casually along the alleyway.

His mood had skyrocketed, even by the mere look of it.

“heya, wait up, will ya?” He called out, the dog reflexively shooting a look behind its fuzzy little shoulder, fry hanging from its soft gripping muzzle.

As Sans slightly sped his pace, the dog slowed down for him as though he understood what he had said. When he reached him, the two were walking side by side, and it was almost difficult for Sans to not release a slight chuckle.

“ya can’t just leave a guy hangin’ like you did back there after making such a powerful impression ‘lil fella.” He said, hands stuffed deep into his seemingly bottomless pockets and wavering his shifting eye lights between the dog and the path it was leading him to. “won't lie, you've got a certain aura about you. didn’t think it’d be paw -ssible for me to feel like I’ve created this sort of bond with you.”

Despite the skeleton's ‘ humerus ’ statement, the dog had not even twitched, continuing to its intended destination.

“got a litter of pups hangin’ around here? is that who you’re takin’ that wee ol’ fry to?” He asked, continuing his tread alongside the unbothered animal. “doubt that’ll be enough to feed ‘em.” 

He began to lazily wag around the takeout bag he had in hand, and, despite the noise, it hadn’t even shifted the mutt’s gaze.

“i can give you my lunch. it’s no worries, really. plannin’ on makin’ my daily stop at grillby’s later today anyway,” He said, shutting his sockets sluggishly as the dog sharply turned another corner. “this fancy-schmancy smock isn’t really my forte, to be frank–”

Sans made a very abrupt pause amid his sentence as he reopened his eyes, fully taking in his surroundings. They were currently behind the emporium building, where the large dumpsters and garbage bins were. The smell was putrid, to say the least, its foulness immediately greeting the skeleton’s nasal cavities. Sounds of flies buzzing around in their paradise sounded from there too.

Despite this area being a sickening contradiction to what the Emporium strived to be, that clearly didn’t stop whoever was feverishly scouring through one of the metal trash bins.

Their filthy hands would fish out the garbage they’d manage to snag and examine it quickly before chucking it over their shoulder to the building-up pile of debris behind them, then repeating the process anew.

…Those clothes. Sans had immediately recognized it to be you .

His mind was fleeting but before he had the opportunity to say or even think anything, the dog that was once beside him became a blur of racing whites as it sprinted to your side. As you turned your head to look at it, he observed happiness evident on the mutt when you did so, wagging tail, stamping paws, wiggling tush.

It lowered its head to the ground and placed the fry onto it.

A small, dry gasp fell from you as you wasted no second squatting down and retrieving it. Despite its size, you still took a moment to break the food into two for you and the dog to share, tossing its half onto the floor next to it. 

You began to ravenously eat your halves as if you hadn’t eaten in years.

…It was easy to tell how much this dog meant to you even in such a small and seemingly insignificant moment. He also couldn’t help thinking about how much the dog cared about you too, taking you into consideration before even thinking about eating that fry.

…

This was heartbreaking to watch.

Like earlier, his soul couldn’t help feeling almost gravitated toward you two in this moment.

One tiny, flimsy step later, he felt the tip of his slipper accidentally kick a bottle from the floor to send it shooting and noisily rolling out against the momentum.

The sound had caused your figure to jolt in alarm, immediately snapping your gaze in his direction. The mere sight of him seemed to send your unvigilant self into a visible panic. Your body seemed to move so quickly that you clumsily fell back on your rear, the hood pulled over your head flinging off and exposing your mug.

You looked… so much worse than when he first met you. He didn’t believe it could be possible, but it was . Your eyebags were more profound and darker, hair closely resembling a literal rat's nest with articles of nature such as branches, leaves, and dirt trapped between tangles. There was dirt smeared all over your face as though you had fallen face-first into a fresh puddle of mud.

Not to mention how drained of energy you seemed, your breathing visibly labored and choppy, eyes fluttering sluggishly as though you were fighting to keep awake, and your frame all but trembled terribly.

He couldn’t contain his cringe this time. You looked horrendous.

Despite being caught off guard, you waste no second holding your defense, retreating that tiny little pocketknife of yours in your trembling hands. Even when Sans had almost all the advantages to harm you if he so pleased, you still managed to keep face despite everything though, features jelled into a fierce and threatening expression.

…

The pros of retreating back to his brother with you in tow was a long, excellent list. It’d make Papyrus happy. It’d help Burgerpants not have to deal with you stealing food anymore. Not to mention it’d keep you out of his (nonexistent) hair.

So… why was it that the mere thought made him… feel so awful ?

Eye lights flickered between your knife, face, and the dog that was preoccupied licking at the area the fry was last seen.

Then, slowly turned his gaze toward the bag at his side.

…

Your eyes were wild, trembling as you watched him unblinkingly.

A few moments of silence fled the scene; the only noise heard was the sound of flies in trash euphoria. Then, momentarily, the noise of a paper bag being tossed at your feet.

You glared at it as though anticipating an explosion to follow. Then, your gaze trailed back to Sans, who only stood silent.

You were undoubtedly hesitant to approach it, but finding your dog making an immediate beeline to intensely sniff at it visibly eased you. With slow, cautious movements and your flickering gaze, you took it into your wary, filthy hands.

Sans watched as you looked back up at him, making sure to make space between the two of you before deciding to eagerly open it like a child getting into their Christmas presents.

And the look on your face when you wasted no second fishing out not one but two takeout containers was an emotion akin to bliss and ecstasy.

It made him wonder how long it’d been since the two of you had a good meal.

The container that the small dog sniffed at was the one that you opened first, being considerate enough to let your pet eat first. Said pet took no second to think before practically swallowing every sustenance its tiny muzzle could hold.

Your hunger seemed to match his as you popped your open and shoveled the food into your mouth like there was no tomorrow, seeming famished.

…Sans said nothing.

He simply pivoted around to turn the corner, teleporting back inside the emporium and readying himself to be scolded by his brother.

Chapter Text

Your legs raced across rooftops, the soles of your shoes trekking along the clay-tile roofing, making an almost gratifying 'clomp' with each taken step. Besides you, a fluffy white blur whizzed along.

Click clink, click clink.

The tiny little claws belonging to said fluffy blur sounded from around the streets as well.

The end of the rooftop was drawing nearer, followed by a drop of what you were guessing to be fourteen feet if you didn't make the jump to the next building's top. 

Your speeds only increased at the sight of such a thing before your old, soiled pair of shoes had lifted from the surface of the building, the rest of your frame following suit as you threw yourself forward. Your body propelled itself through the air along a ballistic circuit, and a rush of adrenaline coursed throughout it.

The thrill of leaping from rooftop to rooftop as a homeless convict was one not many had the opportunity to experience. You, on the other hand, were currently undergoing it.

You weren't always this way—personality-wise, affirmative. But the homeless convict bit? Not so much.

Backpedal approximately 25 years ago: A.K.A. the day you were brought into this cruel, sick world via birth.

In addition to being a single caregiver with no accessible family members to bring you in as their own, your mother was pronounced dead almost immediately after you popped out of the womb.

Being orphaned since birth was... challenging, to say the least.

Hopping from orphanage to orphanage did a number on how your developing brain shaped you as a person. Some orphanages were alright for the most part. A lot were... not.

One mustn’t dwell over the details you'd much rather forget and leave behind you. To put it short, it sucked living in an unstable and constantly altering environment.

And it wasn’t that being orphaned and becoming a street rat went hand in hand. Word around the street was that a lot of the kids you grew up with became successful and independent for the most part.

You only happened to get the short end of the stick, unfortunately.

One bad connection led to another, and the moment you struck eighteen years of age, everything went to shit. You had no money, no family, no home, no future. You basically grew up in the streets, afraid, clueless, and alone.

Begging for money and food brought little to no real benefits. So, it was natural that you adapted to the way things were and seemingly always will be. Theft became your way of getting what you wanted and needed in order to survive a life you never agreed on having.

Your lack of street smarts as a young, impoverished scoundrel got you into a lot of trouble throughout the years. More bad connections have been made, including owing unpayable debts to powerful, immoral people, being under the thumbs of influential cartels, and being an outlawed runaway.

You bet you could write a complete book about everything you’ve endured throughout your entire life.

It seemed as though life gave you all its lemons from the get-go, and every time you'd attempt to give them back, life would kick you in the groin and have its friends have a go at you all while you were still in agonizing pain on the floor. Before setting you on fire.

Developing a hard shell over the years after enduring so much impromptu trauma was the only thing you could really do. You constantly chose to keep people out, reluctant to let anyone get too close in fear of getting hurt again.

That is all but two beings.

The first was, of course, your dog.

SkullCrusher5000.

What? You had to admit, it rolled off the tongue and was an appropriate name. His size belied his unfathomable grit. He’s saved your ass more times than you'd like to admit, so it was hard not to develop an attachment to him as time passed.

The second is Zye, your old buddy and literal partner in crime.

Food, clean water, and shelter were difficult to secure for a homeless person. Unlike everyone else, Zye provided you with those necessities and asked for little in return. The number of times he's helped you is beyond the number of filthy fingers you could count on. His generous efforts have saved your life and that of little Skull, time and time again. That is your debt to him.

Unfortunately, life could not allow such wholesomeness to transpire. 

Like you, Zye was a convict. He was apprehended about two years ago for money laundering. It's been a long wait for him since then.

Your life was indeed an unfortunate chain of events.

Speaking of which, you know that jump you were attempting to make just now? It failed. Gravely.

"AH!" An outcry came from you as your fruitless endeavor was about an inch off. You plummeted down, and, on the way, body-slammed into the bricked wall of the building. Gravity took the wheel, and you were lucky to be cushioned by a garbage heap within a large waste container beneath you.

A small groan of distress escaped from your garbage-submerged, pained figure as your blurred vision concentrated overhead, seeing that Skull had made the jump and was peering downward at you from the building above.

The bark that fled from his tiny mouth had echoed throughout the alleyway, finding that he leaped down and into the garbage with you.

“Damn, lost my footing,” You grumbled, trying to pry and surface above the trash engulfing you.

There was no clear sense in whether your words were directed at Skull, yourself, or no one at all. All you really knew was that you liked to talk, even if no one was willing to listen.

You emerged above the foul rubbish and heaved yourself, then Skull, from it.

Despite your body's painful aches resulting from the fall, slamming against a bricked wall, and landing in a garbage tank, you walked it off.

‘If you’re gonna be dumb, ya gotta be tough,’ echoed the wise words once said by Zye himself within the chambers of your groggy mind. 

With a slight limp and occasional wince every time you’d make a wrong step on your damaged leg, you attempted to walk around the building and make a short turn. Until, all of a sudden, a backdoor of the said building had slowly creaked open.

“Shit,” You hissed, attempting to act fast as you dove to your side, hiding behind the small space in between the trash bin you had fallen into and the wall you body-slammed, Skull following suit. With such abrupt movement came pain to your injured leg, a distressed hiss falling from you but was slapped silent by your hand flying over to your mouth.

The two of you peered from the slight opening as the door flung open, and a monster emerged.

Something you always found fascinating about monsters was how vastly different they looked from one another. With humans, sure, they could vary in vastness and difference, but a lot of the time, it was a minimal and narrow window.

This one seemed to be the humanlike manifestation of a mobile bonfire. He was suited in a rather striking-looking uniform consisting of black dress pants and shoes, a sleeveless vest atop a white long-sleeved dress shirt, and a black bow tie. 

He stood expressionless. No, literally, he had no distinctive facial features upon his fiery faceless head. Instead, there were glasses placed onto it despite him having no eyes in need of such a thing.

You nearly chuckled but were aided by the hand above your mouth to keep it concealed.

He was carrying a trash bag in hand, and you were bewildered to see that the bag's material didn’t instantaneously combust into flames at his touch. It raised many questions as he heaved said bag into the trash bin you and Skull were behind. Before ultimately retreating into the building again.

A simultaneous sigh of relief was unleashed from both you and your tiny partner in crime.

Just as you were about to scutter from hiding, your eyes couldn’t help seizing a doubletake at the door.

…And it was almost like the gods of luck had finally graced you.

Because it seemed as though the mobile fire hadn’t entirely shut the backdoor…leaving a slight crack that was practically begging for you to go inside.

A mischievous smile had reaped your lips at such a pleasant sight, and you tossed a look over at Skull, who seemed to be mirroring your expression. You hadn’t even uttered a word for the two of you to take immediate action, finding yourselves scuttering from hiding and poking your heads into the opening.

Almost immediately, the sweet, beautiful aroma of food had greeted your nostrils, two greedy noses sniffing and nearly being wafted up into the air. Your mugs melted to an expression of delight at such a pleasant smell and your eyes wavered about, making sure no witnesses were in sight before quietly and carefully tiptoeing inside.

Given your damaged leg, it was pretty tricky to insinuate tiptoeing, but you did it to the best of your abilities. 

Within this mysterious door, led to a small kitchen. The floors were made of chestnut oak wood and walls were a deep, dark maroon, granting it an overall warmer feel and vibe. There was a pot rack dangling above several steel ovens and stoves pushed up against one another amid the center. Containers of condiments, spices, and seasonings littered the counters and shelves.

It was as though you had walked into your very own wonderland.

But, that smell. 

It wasn’t coming from this kitchen specifically, it was coming from another door that likely led to the central area of this facility.

Noses wriggled against the aroma, desperate as you limped further into the kitchen, holding yourself up with nearby storage racks.

Sweet.

More intense sniffing.

Fruity.

Intenser sniffing.

Creamy.

Before you had the opportunity to follow in Skull’s footsteps of being completely and utterly entranced by this ravishing aroma, your hand had made its way along the lined up tiny racks, fondling something.

You turned your head and gleamed over at a stupidly oversized burger.

“Oh sweeeet mama…!” You cried lowly as not to blow your cover, mouth instantaneously watering at the sight.

Its fluffy, sesame-seeded buns could hardly contain the absolute monstrosity of a patty in between them. The condiments were sloppily dripping from its sides, the bottom bun practically drenching.

It almost brought a tear to your eye.

“Sku–” You twisted a look to call him over, only to see that he was gone to investigate the other smell.

…You turned back at it with a ravenous stare.

Someone had probably already paid money for such a beauty. Alas, you could hardly prevent yourself from carefully grasping it into your soiled hands, examining it for all its glory as though it were an artifact from a museum, before almost unhinging your jaw to take a big, greedy bite.

Your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your skull when you savored its flavorful, juicy, and greasy meatiness. The merged tastes into one were the best combination of flavors your taste buds had ever experienced.

A rigid swallow was taken after only a couple of bites and your stomach only beseeched for more. One bite led to another. And another. And another.

Until half of it was already gone.

You refrained from taking another tidbit, saving the rest for your sweet boy to relish as well, knowing he’d do the same for you. 

You placed it back onto the dish with a heavy heart and proceeded to check the perimeter for more goodies.

With one fucked up leg, you bounded around, eyes in a desperate search for something, anything to gratify your everlasting hunger.

But.

“C’mon,” A muffled voice was nearing, your head immediately snapping over to the door it seemed to be deriving behind.

“Shit,” You hissed, immediately swooping to the floor in alarm, nearly forgetting about the pain in your leg before it was spiked back into your memory.

As you winced, you crawled into the center with the ovens and stoves, hiding behind the furthest end. The door directly flew open before a conversation between two individuals resumed from within the kitchen.

“That person just checked you out and they were openly flirting with you,” The voice from earlier had tolled, playful laughter exuding.

You pressed your aching body against the steel of the cooker, practically straining your ears for any clear indicator of approaching movement. Luckily, the two seemed to stand idly after a mere few steps into the kitchen, the sound of the door swaying shut behind them.

From the other came a deep chuckle.

Your eyebrows furrowed at the familiarity.

…Wait a damn minute…

“nah. you’re pullin’ my leg here, tori.”

Your eyes instantly extended at the sound of that recognizable, baritone voice. Flashbacks to that skeleton came barreling to mind.

…In retrospect, going out of your way for six bucks was undoubtedly one of your lowest points in life, and that's saying a lot because your entire life was a low point.

Alas, desperate times called for desperate measures and life without Zye was a struggle. Your longest stretch without food was almost two weeks.

And that was when you encountered… that skeleton.

Without food, your mind begins to wander into dark and vile places. Six bucks would have been enough to get a least something for you and Skull.

Of course, you’ve never actually killed anyone before.

But, hunger was on the brain, and you honestly didn’t care if it cost six measly bucks, an array of embarrassing family photos, and a dead skeleton to get some food into your system.

…

The more you thought about it, the greater your guilt expanded about him giving you food about a week after your embarrassing action.

Despite the fact that the meal might not have seemed like much, it undoutably saved your lives.

At the very least, you owed him. 

But, right now, the only thing on your mind was to find an escape before they found you. Sure, he might have been kind enough to spare his lunch but you doubt he’d be the same if he found you creeping around this place looting grub.

“They literally–” This so-called ‘Tori’ went on, clearly exasperated by the skeleton’s response, “--gave you their number, Sans!”

Sans? That was his name?

Apart from the fact that it was almost as awful as listening to those really bad jokes of his, or in your case, being hung upside down and having to endure them, you didn't know what to think of such a name.

A chuckle escaped him and you could already imagine the shrug he presented her, “maybe they wanted a new friend?”

Your heart thundered within your chest, their conversation merely being background noise in your mind as your thoughts scrambled. 

“For a guy who worked under the Doctor W.D. Gaster, you are as clueless as the day is long, you know that?”

They shared a laugh as you cursed under your breath, wanting this to already be over with while simultaneously wishing you could morph into an inanimate object like a shapeshifter of some sort.

“i dunno, i just don’t really care all that much for romance.”

You almost rolled your eyes at that, this whole conversation reeking of unacknowledged privilege. If only you had the luxury of worrying about who you would court next. Instead, your worries consisted of where you were going to sleep the following night, when you’d have your next meal, and basic necessities every normal person maintained.

“You don’t have to be alone forever, Sans.”

“but i’m not alone. i got a skele-ton of friends. paps, you, alph, und–”

“Oh, you know what I mean…”

God, when was this conversation going to end?

“i don’t mind being bonely, tori. seriously. it ain’t all that bad. i prefer it, tibia honest.”

A flurry of laughter and snorts fled from the skeleton's friend and you couldn’t help scowling at his tasteless humor. Unless it was cleverly composed and executed, puns were the backwash of all jokes and you stood by that.

Sure, he kinda saved your ass last week but…

This was just plain bad and lazy humor.

“Quit joking,” She spoke brokenly through laughter and you couldn’t wrap your head around how the hell she found any of that funny.

Sans, of course, seemed quite pleased with himself. It practically seeped from his words as he spoke.

“it’s true.” He said and the sound of shifting pursued, your heart leaping into your mouth and body tensing as stiff as a board. “now, if ya don’t mind, i’m gonna grab that ketchup we came in here for.”

Shit.

A shadow cast against the floor and your eyes nearly tumbled from their sockets from how wide your eyelids flew open. You clawed at the floor, squirming against the wooden tiles to stow yourself behind the other side of the bundled-up centre ovens before he had the opportunity to see you.

“Yes, well, hurry that up,” Tori said as your heart began to thunder madly within your chest, eyes widening in alarm as you prayed to the heavens above that he hadn’t seen or heard you. “My pies are going to get cold. They’re best eaten when they’re warm, you know.”

Pies?

Was that the sweet aroma you were smelling earlier? Your mouth almost began to water at the mere thought.

There was a slight clamor coming from beside you and you held your breath.

“still think it’s funny you brought a bunch’a b’scotch pies to a bar,” He chuckled, rummaging through cabinets and shelves presumably for ketchup.

“Well, I think everyone should be able to indulge in a sweet dessert every now and again.”

Much to your pleasant surprise, he seemed to have found the condiment he had been in search for, the sound of his house slippers smacking against the tiled floor as he departed further from you.

A silent sigh fled from your tensed-up body.

“sorry, but i don’t think i’ll be eating them tonight. i’ll probably be too occu-pied with my burger.”

Cue another storm of laughter seeping from Tori as you wanted to bash your head against the oven behind you. You weren’t sure whether it was because of how frustratingly long this conversation was, your hunger slowly building up within you, his horrendous jokes, or perhaps a mixture in between.

Either way, you just wanted this to be over.

“O-Oh, Sans. Pie love you so dearly.”

Your eyes rolled so hard they nearly threatened to fall back into your skull, holding back the urge of telling them to get a room.

Sans was clearly amused and he chuckled.

“pie couldn’t imagine my life without you, tor–” In the midst of this excruciating exchange, something had thankfully hindered Sans in his pursuit.

There was this long pause, and for a moment, you almost thought you got caught. Your head swivled about, anticipating to be glared down at by two pairs of monster eyes. Luckily, there was no such thing.

“uhh,” You heard him trail, confusion clearly evident in his voice. 

“Oh my!” Tori gasped.

You really wished you could see what the hell was causing such a reaction and preventing them from leaving already.

“think grillbz got a little hungry halfway through prepping my burger,” Sans said between laughter.

A gasp nearly tumbled from your gaping lips but you slapped your hand over it, eyes widening.

Oh shit! That was his burger!

Laughter rang awkwardly between the two of them and your mind raced. It was hard to decide whether to laugh or feel guilty.

…Do you regret it? No. Would you do it again? Yeah, probably. It was a good burger.

“Maybe you should ask for another one?” Tori laughed along with Sans and the two seemed to finally be wrapping their whole conversation up.

“nah, it’s chill. already ate like two this morning and afternoon. probably gonna head back home, honestly. paps gets cranky when i come home too late.”

There was a shift, and suddenly, the sweet sound of them finally leaving had tolled.

An exaggerated sigh fled from you as your tensed-up muscles had finally relaxed, limbs going limp with relief.

That seemed like it would never end.

After a few moments of recollecting yourself, you finally decided it was time to get up. Carefully, you erected from the floor with the help of the stove as leverage.

Once you had done so, not even a singular step was taken before the door swung back open again.

Every organ within your body seemed to have simultaneously leaped from such a sudden and abrupt action, frantic and wide eyes darting over to who had entered.

Luckily for you, it was only Skull.

“Skull…!” You whisper-yelled, watching him sniff around in frustration as per usual. “You will not believe what I found!”

You began to slowly limp over the burger that was thankfully still where you last saw it.

“You gotta try this, Skully. You’re gonna love it–” The sound of his bark had interrupted you and you paused in your pursuit, eyes wide.

“Skull, keep it down…! They’re gonna hear…!” You scolded, raising an eyebrow when you found him staring down the back door the two of you came into. “The hell are you staring at, you weirdo–”

Suddenly, out of complete nowhere, he booked it outside, the door soaring open. Your eyes widened and you immediately began to quickly limp over to trail behind him.

“SKULL!” You yelled, coming up to the door and swinging it open, “What in fuck’s name ar–”

Your words got caught in your throat, horror washing every other remaining emotion against your features as all the blood in your body drained to frigid temperatures.

Right below you, along the ground of the alleyway was what could only be described to be something that defied all science, all logic, and all threads between the time and space continuum. 

A large, circular puncture led to an entirely separate location: the front of a house within a suburban neighborhood. Said puncture was thinly outlined with a bioluminescent blue, a sound somewhat identical to the buzzing of electromagnetic waves sizzling from it. The dim lights from within leaked through the windows of the house as the echoing barks of SkullCrusher5000 wavered about, casting against your frenzied figure.

A wormhole .

A treacherous shriek escaped from you, utter terror compelling your only good leg to lose its feeling and, ultimately, balance before you discovered yourself toppling over. Gravity seemed to be your only enemy, sturdily tugging you through the timeless space warp.

As your flesh vessel fell through like a slinky being thrown down a flight of stairs, the linked energy of gravity seemed to shift, clashing against one another to govern your soma. There was this certain sensation you felt, like electricity nibbling at your flesh, causing body hair to spike and erect. It didn’t hurt, admittedly, it sort of tickled and tingled.

To fall or not to fall? That is the question… that you were far too occupied to be asking since you were screaming like a baby.

“GAHHH!” Considering that the other side of the wormhole was presented upright, a scream like that was probably an overreaction. Alas, even then you still managed to stumble and faceplant into the lawn’s grass, getting a mouthful of dirt and green.

A pained groan bubbled passed your dirt-infested mouth at the feeling of your body failing on you, namely your leg.

With your trembling arms, you slowly levered yourself from the ground and promptly spit out the wildlife’s articles from your mouth. Your hands quickly and subconsciously felt at the grass below, attempting desperately to ground yourself from having a complete and total meltdown. 

This is real, Your thoughts were fleeting from you, hands getting itchy from the scratchy, prickly texture, I am here and that just fucking happened!

It seemed as though your horror hadn’t ceased, flinching against the sudden sound of the wormhole blinking away to inexistence subsequent to your arrival.

A shaky whiff clogged your airway, chest heaving.

You slowly directed your gaze back to the suburban house before you, breath heavy and staggering as your brain surged wildly with frantic thoughts.

Is this an alternate dimension? You’ve seen enough sci-fi movies to have such a question immediately pop into your recollection. A spillage between time and space to create some sort of puncture within this dimension?

Who knew? You certainly didn’t. All you knew was that you felt like you were going to pass out at any given moment, attempting to wrack your brain with answers to seemingly unanswerable questions.

Until a familiar bark was heard from the distance and you sharpened your attention over to where you believed it derived.

“Skull…!” You whisper-yelled.

Nothing.

Your eyes trembled, wavering back and forth, to and fro wildly before you carefully stood yourself up.

“Skull!” You called again, louder this time as you limped around, scouring your surroundings for your dog.

Nothing, yet again.

“Fuck,” Your voice trembled, hands reaching over to probe at the flesh on your face in an attempt to calm your fleeting thoughts. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Suddenly, in the midst of your pursuit, a dimmed light had leaked over the lawn and your quivering figure.

As you cast your gaze over and upward, your eyes caught the curtain-drawn window at the upper story of the house, where a skeleton-shaped silhouette leered down at you.

Chapter Text

The silhouette vanished for a moment.

Endless panic swept over you at the sight of a figure materializing before your very eyes, inky black sockets belonging to a skeleton engulfing your view. 

It had all happened in a singular blink. 

The return of that tingly static feeling for one split second had fondled your sensitive human flesh yet again.

The surroundings of an average suburban neighborhood had all but vanished, melting down to nothingness before an extended interval of milky way galaxies littered with stars and celestial bodies had superseded it. A cry lodged in your throat, your eyes extending to impossible lengths as your body harshened in utter hysteria and dread.

As sudden as that, you were in what seemed to be a tiny hovel.

You were gifted no second to register a thought before you felt a familiar strange sensation within your chest. It reached beyond bone, flesh, and senses; you’d go as far to say it almost felt like your very SOUL was absorbed and seized by its literal essence.

You found yourself soaring backward, your body screaming in protest as his magic sent it crashing into a rigid wall behind you. Such a force caused a pained shriek to erupt from you, directing a trembling gaze over to a skeleton.

Sans.

The mere sight of him had your breath trembling, attempting to fight against the hold of magic he had over you with every fiber of your being. But to no avail. He had you pinned, entire body completely stiffened, leaving no space or opportunity for wiggle room.

On top of that, you were still trying to process what happened to you in that wormhole. It turns out getting ripped between realities took a toll on your body.

Although he strode in like it was any other casual evening stroll on a Sunday, the sound of his slippers slapping against the ground made you cringe for some reason. Perhaps it was because of those literal abysses for sockets. Or the way the weak lights from within the shed cast all sorts of shadows against his boney facial structure, clinging against cavities of his skull and causing him to appear all the more threatening.

In spite of everything, you still fought, refusing to let him know how truly frightened and perplexed you were at that moment.

‘Always, always fight back,’ Another snippet of Zye’s advice boomeranged into your mind, teeth barred as you grunted against the pain and struggling movements. ‘Even when all odds are against you, and they have all the advantages, fight back.’

“gotta admit, i wasn’t expecting to see you again, six,” His deep voice leaked with sour distaste, and you glowered at him, your face twitching at that stupid nickname.

“Don’t,” You hissed through your clenched and tightened jaw, fighting back the noises of pain attempting to leak from you as the awful burning in your injured leg seemed only to worsen, “call me that.”

Sans gave you a look. Although his facial expressions were anything but vast, considering that horrific grin forever plastered to his face, he still managed to convey what he felt through the windows of the soul: his eyes. Or, more accurately, his sockets.

His ‘eyebrows’ furrowed slightly, and the tiny lights in his eyes were back and narrowing at you.

“why not? it suits ya well, buddy. y’know, after you literally almost killed me for six bucks a couple weeks ago–”

“Shut the fuck up,” You snarled, clenching your fists tightly, feeling yourself trembling and unsure whether it was due to your rage, fear, pained body, or his magic. It was probably some fucked cross between all four.

Despite attempting with every fiber in your being to appear as hard and gritty as you could muster, it seemed as though he wanted to laugh.

“loosen up, would ya, sixaroo?”

Then he pimped on that godawful name, pouring gasoline to add to your fury.

“anyways. you wanna tell me how ya ended up in my front yard?”

You almost scoffed at that, narrowing your eyes at him as your mind slung back to that wormhole.

How could you tell him about that? It sounded like something straight out of a sci-fi flick, plus you doubted you had any room to lie to him. Though it wasn’t a lie, he won't believe you either way.

“If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.” You said, attempting to read the expression thrown over his not-so expressive features.

He glared at you, bone brows and socket lids narrowing at your words.

“the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“I…” God, you had no other way around this, did you? Even thinking about it made you feel like a lunatic who had hallucinated everything, let alone how you’d feel if you actually said it.

Perhaps all these years on the streets, suffering from lack of nutrition, and witnessing horrendous things were finally catching up to you.

You were dwelling over your thoughts for what seemed far too long if Sans’ risen brow bone was any indicator.

“...There was this… hole,” You began to explain, attempting to dodge the judgemental stares from the skeleton currently holding you against your will, “It was like a wormhole, the kinda sci-fi shit right out of a scientist’s wet dream. It was sitting right outside a building, and I got warped through, and it just so happened to lead me here.”

No, scratch your previous worries. It did sound a lot worse when you said it out loud. 

Nevertheless, Sans didn't appear bewildered anymore. He seemed… amused, in all honesty, and you couldn’t help confusion scrunching over your facial features.

“oh,” He released a few chuckles, “forgot to close that up. my bad.”

You deadpanned. “What.”

“...what?”

“What do you mean you forgot to close it up?”

“…that i forgot to close it up..?”

You blinked at him, attempting to put two and two together even though your mind was currently blanking out on you.

“Are you trying to tell me… you’re the one who made that fucking wormhole!?”

“yup,” He said nonchalantly and watched you visibly spiral into further confusion.

You were attempting to surge your brain for any lick of sense in this nonsensical situation.

It was common knowledge that monsters possessed magic. What wasn’t common knowledge was that they were powerful enough to rip through time and space to conjure up a wormhole!

That certainly clarified how you ended up seemingly teleporting into this small, poorly built area. Considering he was capable of achieving all this, you wouldn't be surprised if he could accomplish more.

You surely underestimated him when you decided to pickpocket him on that one fateful night, deeming him to be a stupid, weird skeleton incapable of doing anything more than wavering a singular phalange.

You were wrong, oh so wrong.

“Okay, look, guy,” You said between a breathy sigh, trying to relax despite your body feeling tenser than ever, “If you let me go, I swear I won’t bother you again.”

Sans stood there, those pinpricks reflectively floating to the right.

“nah.” He stated bluntly, not even bothering to put extra thought into it. 

Your eyelid twitched.

“...‘Scuse me…?”

A shrug shifted his shoulders, and he slightly tilted his head at you.

“can’t do that.”

…

He did not elaborate. His only action was to stare, and you wanted desperately to ram a fist into those stupid pits for eyes of his. The only thing you could do was remain calm, knowing he was probably capable of weaving your mortal body into a pretzel if he so desired.

“Why not?” You had to hold back from shouting at him, only wishing to live long enough to see if SkullCrusher5000 was alive and well.

He shrugged again, and there was this distinct look to his sockets, “no real reason. just think it’s funny seeing you in this position. i’m kinda picturing you in one of those medieval torture devices.”

A few snickers fled from him as he seemed to be fully skimming your wall-pinned figure and your face flared in beet red. And it was not due to fluster.

“ya know, the wheel one, where the victim has their limbs sprawled out and strapped down. i think it’s wheely funny–”

“WILL YOU–” It seemed your anger got the best of you, overflowing and dribbling from you in a short, angry fit. Thankfully, you stopped yourself midway, literally biting down the anger seething and coursing through your veins at his stupid and inappropriately timed humor.

“Let. Me. Go.” You snarled through clenched teeth.

“man. you wheely think i’m gonna do that? after what you’ve done?” He shook his head at you as you trembled with rage. “nah. fact of the matter is, ya owe me. big time.”

…

The truth wasn't going to be denied. No matter how much you hated him and wanted to harm him, he was correct; you didowe him. Big time, as he stated.

You released a long, drawn-out breath after marinating in your thoughts and considering how much your body ached from all the pain.

“Okay. Fine.” You sneered, shutting your eyes so he wouldn’t see you rolling them in obvious annoyance. “...What do you want?”

There was another look on his face when you reopened your eyes after a painfully quiet moment had passed. It appeared to be… smug. You narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously.

“i know just what you can do to make it up to me, six...” He said with that same expression plastered to his face.

…His magic around your frame seemed to hinder; that staticky feeling slowly but surely weakened when his hand advanced forth, holding out a singular phalange.

It was like the air was made out of pure butter. Sans’ gloved, skeletal digit had sliced through it, the bioluminescence of a rift replacing the once thin air that he had weaved his finger through. 

His pinpricks were watchful of your now very astonished yet petrified face, your own eyes wavering between the fluorescence of his monster magic and his smug face. It almost seemed like he got a kick out of watching your visible confusion and bewilderment.

From the air rift materialized the one thing your poor, mortal body was just beginning to get over.

Yet another wormhole manifested before Sans.

It ripped through the very fabric of existence, blinking open like an eye before it flexed and expanded in size. The following noise caused you to flinch and from within it was an entirely different area again.

Your eyes squinted against the sudden radiance of bright lights abiding within said area, nearly penetrating your corneas like daggers. 

Sans peered over at you from behind it, those blackholes of his giving you a look.

"GAH!" You fell to the ground with a painful crash as the magic pinning you against the wall vanished.

A bad landing inflicted further injury to your leg; something within it felt like there was literal magma wildly scorching within your very flesh. You clenched your jaw at the spiking aches, tiny noises of pain spiraling between your choppy breaths, trembling arms acting to pry you off the floor carefully.

If looks could kill, you and Sans both knew the one you shot him would have the skeleton six feet under. You glowered over at him through your eyebrows, the tangled rat’s nest of your hair curtaining your sight.

“A heads up would have been nice,” You sneered, carefully using your environment to help you back onto your feet, namely a nearby, unstable shelf you used as leverage.

Sans chuckled and rolled his pinpricks at you, smugger than ever.

“now where’s the fun in that?” He asked, shrugging slightly as you limped closer to him.

With every step to your injury came shrilling pain and worry consuming your brain. Your leg was getting worse, it didn’t help that you also kept falling and inflicting further damage to it. You made a quick mental note: keep off of it the momentyou were finished with whatever the hell this guy’s favor was.

You rocked your gaze over to Sans as you now stood before the space puncture, eyeballing him.

“Well?” Your curiosity asked, along with a sliver of impatience. “You want me…to step through, or…?”

You couldn’t help inspect the wormhole's interior with questioning, narrowing eyes.

From where you stood, the only thing that was visible from your best guesses was the interior of a house. 

You’ve been inside houses before. And, sure, in most of those rare instances, you were technically breaking and entering.

Still, even so, going into one always felt uneasy for you. You guess you were only used to hopping from place to place, abandoned structure to abandoned structure for temporary shelter, as you silently envied those who were lucky enough to call someplace home.

“no. the reason i summoned a wormhole was so we could just stand around and stare at it all night.”

You actually rolled your eyes at his snarky remark this time. Although you were unwaveringly determined to be petty enough to do just as he said, the overwhelming desire to simply get this over with had already reigned triumph.

“Sarcasm noted, pal.” You grumbled and gestured toward it before wavering to him. “Lady’s first.”

He immediately shook his head at you, “nope. don’t trust ya enough to have you walking behind me… got a feeling you’ll stab my back...”

And if that sentence wasn’t enough to tick you off, the sensation of something shifting within the pocket of your hoodie was. Your hand instinctively shoved itself inside it but, unfortunately, was not quick enough. Your pocketknife within it was seen floating away from your frantic fingers and drawing over to Sans. 

“HEY!” You barked, scowling as he grasped it in his hand.

“i’m confiscating this. can’t have you wandering around my house with a weapon in hand.” He said. 

His house?

Although you hadn’t known Sans long, or at all for that matter, you knew he couldn’t be that stupid to simply let you, a clear threat, meander into his house… weapon in hand or not.

This had to be some kind of setup. 

He wagged your weapon teasingly at you, and before you could snake it from him, he abruptly shoved it into his own hoodie’s pocket. 

In reading your expression, he could tell that you were frustrated about not having your pocketknife on you.

He continued, “and if ya ever want it back, i insist, and strongly suggest, that you go in there first… pal.”

The only way you could contain yourself from striking him across the skull right then and there was by balling up your fists, continuing to hold your seething glare onto him, and doing as he wished. Not like you had any other choice.

The quicker this gets done, You thought to yourself as you limped toward it, the quicker I get to see Skull, have my knife back, and get this motherfucker out of my goddamn life once and for all.

That sensation sparkled across your body when you practically stumbled through the breakage between realities. Despite the static tickling at your flesh, your frown was unfaltering as you trekked into a living room.

It was relatively small, a green, noticeably old couch against one of the cinnamon brown-painted walls, a flat-screen tv plastered to the wall adjacent. A wooden coffee table was in the middle, and you couldn’t help grimacing at the ugly colored carpeting of the floors. There were fake plants littered about here and there, peekabooing from around as if attempting to pull the whole place together since it didn’t contain many decors.

…And don’t think your eyes missed all the (dirty) socks littered about as well.

Although it wasn’t much, you couldn’t help silently envying it all.

You hadn’t realized Sans was through until the sound of a wormhole blinking out of existence called your gaze over to his advancing figure, and he pushed past you, aggressively bumping shoulders. An annoyed growl left you at the action, but Sans was unbothered as usual.

“lemme do the talking.” He remarked abruptly.

There was a thunderous voice before you could say anything, and you had hardly noticed the stairs until you skimmed over and saw someone barreling down them with loud and heavy steps.

“SANS!” Boomed the voice, and you were taken aback, practically feeling the entire house rumbling against it, attempting to take cover by keeping your own balance on your one good leg.

Sans was characteristically unfazed.

“‘sup, bro?”

“YOU KNOW WHAT ‘SUP’, BROTHER!” The other skeleton you assumed to be Sans’ brother from the looks of things, seemed quite distraught.

He drew closer, his ‘eyes’ unblinkingly targeted at the shorter one, downright overlooking your existence as a whole like you were a mere figment of Sans’ imagination. He had to be about an entire head (or skull) taller than Sans, adorned in an outfit you could only really describe being something a knock-off superhero would wear. The tattered cape strapped around his skeletal throat flew behind him dramatically against his vigorous movements.

Despite Sans’ brother standing directly before him, his voice hadn’t even notched down in volume.

“HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU TO STOP BATHING YOUR STUPID INSTRUMENTS IN THE BATHTUB!” He hollered, wildly motioning his boney arms around and stamping his foot as you could only watch in bewilderment.

Sans merely shrugged.

“my bad, bro. didn’t mean to be a pain in the brass.”

The brother completely disregarded the shorter one’s horrible pun and continued, “SANS, IF YOU’RE GOING TO OWN INSTRUMENTS, YOU SHOULD AT LEAST HAVE THE DECENCY TO  WASH THEM PROPERLY! NOT JUST THROW THEM INTO THE TUB AND LEAVE THE WATER RUNNING! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW COSTLY THE WATER BILL IS GOING TO BE THIS MONTH, YOU ABSOLUTE HOOLIGAN—”

The loud skeleton had suddenly snapped his gaze onto you out of literal nowhere. You, of course, were caught very much off guard, considering you hadn’t done so much as exist to call his attention to you so abruptly.

Unlike Sans, this skeleton had no eye lights within his sockets—they were literal black abysses of nothingness and were much smaller than his counterpart’s.

He skimmed you, and you noticed that all but familiar expression slightly tweaking his boney features. All strangers looked at you with a face that was a cross between repulsion and pity, a reaction that made you remember your first encounter with Sans.

“OH! UH, H-HELLO THERE, HUMAN…!” He stuttered out with evident hesitance.

You made a feeble and somewhat awkward attempt at a greeting with a singular wag of a filthy hand. The tall skeleton looked at the said hand in evident disgust. He wasn’t the best at concealing his emotions, it seemed. 

“paps, this is six.”

You shot Sans a dirty glare at that but made no effort to correct him. After all, it was best to keep yourself anonymous; you were a wanted criminal. They didn’t know that… or at least, you hoped they didn’t…

‘Paps’ skimmed you once more. This time, he seemed to be holding a significantly narrowed gaze, socket lids squinted quizzically.

“HM…” He speared a finger in your direction, employing his unoccupied hand to stroke at his jaw in deep thought. “SIX…YOU LOOK AWFULLY FAMILIAR… HAVE I SEEN YOU BEFORE…?”

Shit. Your heart plunged to your ass, sweating bullets at that mere statement. How incredibly naive of you to think they weren’t aware of your criminal charges.

“U-Uhm…no…?” After remaining silent for what seemed like an eternity, you finally spoke. You were surprised you kept quiet for so long, honestly.

In an instant, he retrieved a folded sheet of paper from his pocket and was quick to open it. You watched, palms clammy as you held a very tight and strained crack at a smile.

It was a wanted poster—your wanted poster, to be precise.

SHIT.

You knew what was coming as you were practically bathing in your own nervous sweat, glancing between Sans’ smug face and Paps bouncing his gaze to and fro, from you to your mugshot, and so forth, humming to himself as he was constructing an undeniable connection.

You limped directly into Sans’ trap, reading it all over the front side of his skull, vain expression and all, practically screaming ‘you’re a goner, six’ without even uttering a word. It was like telepathy; maybe he possessed such abilities as well.

Fleeing was out of the question, not with the injury of your leg. So was fighting—if Paps was comparable to his brother, he would similarly have magical abilities as all monsters did. And you were not willing to gamble your life in taking on two possibly powerful monsters to find out. So your only realistic option was to stand there and accept defeat.

You had a good run. Well, the term good was used very loosely, but SkullCrusher5000 made it worthwhile. You knew it would end this way. Not this exact situation, but honestly hadn’t anticipated lasting this long as a lone fugitive. Nevertheless, it was a matter of time before you got caught.

“HM…” He continued surveying you and the photo that looked practically identical.

…But he paused for a moment, doubt replacing his emotions as he shrugged and crammed the sheet of paper back into his pocket again.

“NEVERMIND. I MUST HAVE BEEN MISTAKEN.” He stated, and you physically froze, bug-eyed.

You blinked rapidly and you probably wouldn’t have been surprised if it resembled a sound effect straight out of a cartoon.

This had to be some kind of joke; it had to be. He looked directly at your mugshot, comparable to how you stillresembled. And yet, it somehow completely flew over his head that the person in that very wanted poster, worth thousands of dollars, was currently abiding within his living room.

Sans looked as shocked as you were.

“paps, ya sure you looked that over thoroughly…?” He questioned, raising a confused bone brow.

“SANS, PLEASE,” Paps grumbled, rolling his sockets.

He sure displayed a ruthless amount of confidence for someone who was painfully absentminded and oblivious.

”YOU’RE SPEAKING TO THE GREAT PAPYRUS! I’D KNOW WHEN THIS SO-CALLED ‘Y/N L/N’ WAS AROUND!" He barked, gesturing at you, the so-called ‘Y/n L/n’ standing directly before him.

…

There were several things you noted. The first was that they were both named after fonts.. If the irony of their names alone is not enough to illustrate the excruciating nature of this interaction, then you genuinely don't know what is. 

Secondly, it was pretty apparent that Papyrus was actively hounding you down. Though he wasn’t the most suitable for the job (for obvious reasons), it still raised many concerns. You highly doubted he was a cop; if he were, you’d be able to read it off of him. Your trained, experienced eye had a knack for sniffing out the fuzz, one of the many wonders of developing street smarts. Although he was naive, he still had this aura about him that made him just as dangerous as Sans, if not more so.

The last note was that Sans seemed to want to reveal your true identity to Papyrus without verbally saying so, which made this all the more painful.

“i’m just sayin’...i think you should–”

“SHOULD NOTHING! BESIDES, YOU SAID THEIR NAME WAS SIX, RIGHT? HOW COULD THEY BE CALLED Y/N AND SIX AT THE SAME TIME!? THAT’D BE ABSOLUTELY LUDICROUS!”

…

On second thought, being arrested seemed like a much more pleasurable concept than being with these two.

Sans had almost immediately given up, much too lazy to aid his brother in seeing the truth for he seemed to be a lost cause.

“ANYWAY, YOU TWO GO ON AND DO WHATEVER IT IS YOU WERE PLANNING ON DOING. I WILL STAY OUT OF…” Papyrus seemed to grimace at the knotted mess peeking out from the hood on your head. “...YOUR…HAIR.”

You squint your eyes back at Papyrus and his somewhat passive-aggressive comment as a  familiar sound sizzled from behind you.

A turn to your head had you gleaming back into yet another wormhole somehow conjured up without a theatrical showcase by Sans. Could he just summon one without needing to slash at the air dramatically? 

Everything he did back there was all for show—what a cocky poseur.

“and wool stay out of yours, bro,” Sans said as he began to shuffle toward it and, on his quest, grasped the cuff of your hoodie’s arm to force you alongside him.

Such an unexpecting force nearly had you tottering over, all due to alarm, your clumsiness, and horrible sense of balance from having only one good leg. Fortunately, you could keep up with him tugging you along, not even haltering in his pursuit even when you began to stumble in.

“I DON’T HAVE ANY HAIR…OR WOOL…SO THAT PUN DOESN’T MAKE ANY SENSE!” Papyrus shouted after him, more confused than annoyed. “ALSO, WHY ON EARTH ARE YOU USING A SHORTCUT TO GO TO YOUR ROOM, YOU LAZY BONES!? IT’S RIGHT UP THE STAIRS!”

Immediately after strolling through, the wormhole closed.

Everything had happened so quickly, and you found yourself tumbling back onto a carpeted floor inside a poorly-kept room. Nothing about the said room was registered, being far too busy feeling pissed as shit when you glowered up at the skeleton towering before your collapsed frame.

“You set me up!” You barked, wasting no second to pick yourself off the floor as quickly as your injury allowed you to.

Sans only watched you with those stupid eye lights of his, and there was this look on his face.

He shrugged. He fucking shrugged, and suddenly you felt your rage fling back to you tenfold as you leveled over, standing directly before him.

“not sure why you seemed so surprised,” He stated nonchalantly, everything about his mannerisms making your blood seeth. “should’ve seen this coming from a mile away.”

“Oh-hoh,” A scornful chuckle seethed and laced tightly through your voice like acid when you gave him a strained, nearly bloodthirsty grin as your fists subconsciously began to wad up tightly.

Pissed was an understatement. Murderous was much more fitting to how you felt in that very moment.

You wasted no second, absolutely none.

“You cocky...!"

Perhaps it was due to your overspilling rage and your horrendous inability of hindering it.

"...fucking...!"

Or the way he seemed to be carrying himself as if having you incarcerated was no big fuss. You may have even done it just because you felt like it.

"BITCH!"

At full force, your fist struck him across the skull right then and there.

Chapter Text

The passage of time was a blur.

Sans’ head snapped to the side against the sudden brute force of your fist, stumbling, descending backward onto a bare mattress beneath him. Despite the rawness and throbbing of the flesh between your knuckles from the contact of rigid bone and your impaired leg, you lunged at him.

You towered over him, knees digging into the plush material of said mattress on either side of his pelvis, your hand advancing to seize a handful of his hoodie, overwhelmed by rage and adrenaline. He appeared to be rapidly overcoming the shock that you had enough balls to follow through on your threats. 

He bounced back from his alarmed state before mirroring your action, his hand shooting out to grasp your hoodie, tugging you downward aggressively. The two of you wind up your fists, preparing to send them colliding against the other’s face, fully intending for harm as you leered into each other’s eyes.

His sockets were pitch black, any signs of those stupid eye lights being swallowed whole. 

“SANS, I ALMOST FORGOT TO ASK IF YOU AND YOUR FRIEND WANTED ME TO MAKE SOME SPAGH–”

The bedroom door swung open, the suddenness causing both of your gazes to rip from one another to glare at who dared to interrupt this intense, much-needed brawl.

Sans’ brother stood at the doorway, sockets extending as they seemed to slowly survey the room's interior only to skew their gaze onto your (unintentionally sensual) positions on the bed. It was almost as though Papyrus could possess actual human eyeballs, ginormous ones bulging out of his once empty sockets in evident alarm.

In a different situation, it would have creeped you out.

“O-OH!” He stuttered out, human eyeballs retracting in a literal blink of an eye before the alarmed look on his face had melted into one of embarrassment, “I DIDN’T THINK IT WAS THAT KIND OF FRIEND!”

A pink tint peppered his cheekbones. Although you and Sans stared at him and were clearly caught off guard, your fighting stances refused to stagger, only paused for the time being.

“MY SINCEREST APOLOGIES!” This distinct expression overcame his face as though an idea had slung into his skull, “HOLD THAT THOUGHT!”

He had vanished from your views with a flash of whites and reds. Not long after was his departing footsteps followed by a wild commotion as though someone was vigorously rummaging through objects as they clamored against collision.

The squeak of what you thought to be a plaything. A pop of a balloon. Something metal clamoring against more metal. The yowl of an injured cat for generally no reason.

Steps had receded and his presence was projected at the bedroom entrance. He heaved a retro boombox onto the bedroom’s carpeted floor from his cradled arms.

“TO HELP SET THE MOOD!”

As sudden as that, his gloved finger had quickly pecked at one of its buttons and dashed out faster than the speed of light and sound, closing the door behind him.

You immediately recognize the ear-straining tune that blasted from the speaker, specifically the swelling of that infamous saxophone riff.

Careless Whisper by George Michael was playing.

Although this was the worst possible time to be listening to such an infamously romantic tune, you wasted not a second forgetting about that strange skeleton before snapping your gaze back to the other one lying beneath you.

The sudden sensation of electricity circling the atmosphere nibbled at your flesh in the most unorthodox way. You physically recoiled above his glare.

Before your soul had been wrenched by his magic, your gaze feasted itself upon Sans’ abysmal sockets, one in particular suddenly being punctured by circular bioluminescence. 

Your heart plummeted to your ass as you realized…

This was a magic fight and you foolishly equipped your mere fists.

Oh, this had to be cheating.

Your surroundings became wild and syrupy pigments before the frontside of your body struck a wall. A sharp groan escaped you at the motion but were soon colliding from wall to wall, ceiling to floor. Your muddled hearing hardly detected how strangely synchronized the attacks were with the melody playing in the background as you endured it all.

It was an agonizing and repetitive process, your entire body convulsing in seething pain as he ping-ponged it back and forth, to and fro throughout the bedroom’s interior. George Michael’s voice became virtually distorted in your slurring mind and fuzzy hearing, practically mocking you.

You had the feeling that you were about to be thrown into a coma before his motions became sluggish. It was almost like he was running out of energy although this sequence lasted less than a minute.

Only after something smashed to sharp fragments did you realize you were thrown out of a window, and the lyrics to the song blared alongside the deafening sound of shattering glass.

“...and lead you to the dancefloor…” Michael’s sensual vocals blared as a shriek deserted you, soaring across the lawn before bashing down onto it, body wildly barreling across the grass against the substantial momentum, and exposed flesh being mangled and gashed open by broken glass.

A piercing yelp erupted past you before your movements ceased, your aching frame sprawled across itching and bladed grass. You attempted to catch your fleeting breath and scrambling mind, your head violently churning within your skull from all the fast-paced maneuvers he pulled as you began to see double. You could already feel the bruises bound to manifest across your body the following morning. 

In spite of everything, your instincts prohibited your feeble vessel a second to rest. 

To show any weakness around that horrifically robust skeleton was a death wish in itself, even if it meant further injury to your leg that felt like it was beyond repair at this point. Better to have a sprained or broken leg than to be fucking dead.

There was this feeble attempt of you trying to pry yourself from the ground, fleeting groans against the pain. But, as stated, it was a mere attempt as your arms dwindled in strength. You plummeted face-first back onto the ground.

Even then, your determination was chipping away at your soul.

The skeleton had suddenly materialized before you. You leered over at Sans once you peeled only your face from the ground, that godawful song still playing tauntingly in the background.

Adding to the confusion was your brain melted to utter goo, playing tricks on your senses as now you saw that mocking grin of his twofold. The menacing scowl you fixed on him refused to leave despite everything.

“woah, you look really pissed off.” He commented, and although he wasn’t capable of reforming his mouth, you could have sworn he was smirking, his voice echoing within the liquefying chambers of your slurring mind alongside George’s.

A laugh spiraled from his teeth, and you would have flinched against it if it weren’t for your dizziness being replaced by anger and adrenaline. Your hands attempted to pry you from the grass again, muscles convulsing and a groan strung against your greatest efforts.

Even when your movements were slow and deliberate, and you equipped nothing but your trembling fists to defend you (although that was proven to not be of much use), he shifted uneasily when you somehow found yourself crouching to your knees, as though anticipating you to lunge at him again. You could have sworn he even backpedaled an inch or two.

You probably looked like a complete wreck, only imagining all the cuts and bruises littering your face, whereas he stood without a single scratch. The look on his face was telling; he enjoyed seeing you lowered below him in such a meek and powerless condition.

Every aspect about him pissed you off.

That grin. That voice. Those stupid, horrifying sockets leering down at you with penetrating scrutiny.

Your anger was back, set ablaze, and his existence had only kickstarted it. Something nearly similar to a growl was your response to his witty remark, and moments later, you lunged at him, tackling him back onto the ground.

He let loose a surprised yelp before you fixed your stance to loom over him menacingly, knees driving into the itching patches of grass on either side of his pelvis. As you flexed your fist in preparation to strike him, he briskly spun over you. It was like a power struggle between one attempting to top the other, only to end up barrel rolling wildly around the yard.

One could only speculate how… strange this scene must have appeared from an outsider’s perspective. Careless Whisper blasting in the background did no such thing to help your cases either, probably granting this situation an unintended erotic atmosphere to it instead.

Somehow, amidst the wild scuffle, you ultimately dominated him, a hand violently grabbing his collar and using it to pin him into an inescapable position.

He had little choice but to be pummeled and beaten by your fist, his skull snapping to the side with each vicious force. But just as you landed a few blows, that static was back and more profound than ever, the dreadful blue iris flashing in his socket and following the sensation in your soul.

A skeletal hand had risen, and you were shot up into the heavens. 

“GAHHHHHH!”

The sudden weightlessness of soaring gifted you a sense of breathlessness. Your arms blundered desperately to grasp at nothing but thin air in search of support and handles. Gravity, however, was relentless and like all things that are thrown up, you inevitably came crashing down.

Instinctively, your body thrashed wildly, arms clamoring and flying forward as the earth below you was only growing closer by the millisecond, descending downward, spiraling from the skies to which you had been heedlessly thrown.

Alas, such actions had done nothing to prevent you from being struck down to the ground again. The landing was brutal, slamming square onto your back as the grass had done nothing to cushion your fall, a pained cry erupting from your lips.

Despite every excruciating sensation, your mind screamed for you to get back up and continue fighting. Alas, your frail body seemed to succumb to the pain as your attempt to peel yourself from the grass resulted in oblivion. 

And then Sans was close, closer than what you two could possibly be comfortable with. He was towering directly over you now, glaring down at your collapsed and trembling frame with that cocky look on his face. 

His stupid pink slippers literally stepped onto your wrists on either side of your head, tacking you to the ground with little effort. The weight of his body against the two injured regions made you wail, and in such a position, you could do literally nothing but forcibly stare up at him with nearly bloodshot eyes.

He leered down at you, everything about his nonchalant demeanor making this all the more humiliating.

You cocky fucking bitch.

“ya got grit, i’ll give you that.” He shut his sockets as if they were weighing down on him. “but i’m not feeling up to picking more of a fight. got some z’s to catch, six.”

There was nothing you hated more than being viewed as defenseless and meek, especially when it came down to fighting. It didn't matter if it killed you; your soul cried for you to continue battling until you were victorious. As a result of him fucking you up so badly, your ego was absolutely demolished that you landed a mere handful of blows throughout this entire brawl compared to him. He managed to fling you around like a dainty little rag doll at his will, and you got your ass handed to you.

You wadded your fists, attempting to squirm out of his hold but to no avail whatsoever. He was a lot heavier than he seemed, which was both infuriating and confusing, considering he was only made of unadulterated bones.

“Stop,” Despite being horrendously humbled, you hissed breathlessly, at the very least wishing to save your dignity which had almost been robbed. “fucking calling me that!”

“nah. i don’t think–”

Out of literal nowhere, a flurry of white chucked itself at Sans, leeching onto the arm of his jacket and ceasing him amidst his sentence. It took you both by surprise, noises of alarm spiking as the skeleton staggered backward from the tiny white blob’s force, stumbling off of your pinned wrists.

Said tiny white blob was wildly thrashing about, biting fearlessly at Sans’ arm with no intention of letting go as if it locked its jaw into place.

Although the blob was a wild, nearly inconceivable blur, you recognized those ferocious, tiny growls anywhere.

You gasped.

Skull had swooped in to rescue you!

It filled your horrifically abused body with surges of delight as he demonstrated his unwavering loyalty to you. Carefully, you sat up against your body's various aching protests and watched in amusement.

For a moment, there was an evident struggle, Sans’ frantically attempted to pry him off, but Skull refused to budge no matter how hard he was tugged. Sans' face suddenly exhibited an unusual expression of realization as it all happened in a flurry. He paused in his pursuit to fully take in the mutt attempting to maul him.

“lil’ fella? is that you?” 

You paused for a moment as there was a sense of familiarity in his voice, eyes wide as Skull immediately stopped when he heard it too.

The dog halted its attack, extending his beady eyes to the monster who successfully pried him off as he was dangled from the skeleton’s outstretched grasp by the scruff.

A fluffy tail began to vigorously wag upon fully registering Sans. The skeleton seemed to mirror the dog’s delighted and eager energy when he lowered Skull to the ground and kneeled before him, petting him fondly.

“oh man, it’s been a while. howl ya doing?”

…

Why was it when things are finally going your way, it was immediately wrenched from your filthy hands? Surely you were cursed, there was no doubt about it.

If that wasn’t enough, Skull actually responded to the motherfucker by barking at him and batting those beady black eyes of his.

You almost gasped.

“Skull, get your ass over here,” This was typically not the tone you used with your dog, but to watch him betray you in seconds flat was devastating. How could he do this to you?

Nevertheless, Skull almost immediately obeyed your commands and trotted over to you with not a single care in the world while you shot Sans a filthy scowl, watching him rise to his feet again.

Sans never seemed to figure out when to stop joking, however.

“there’s no need to be a paw-ty pooper, six–”

“Shut the fuck up.” You hissed through clenched teeth, shielding Skull away, “Stop calling me that stupid fucking name and stay the fuck away from my dog.”

In spite of your attempt to sound as threatening as possible, Sans remained motionless, and you floundered underneath his looming and penetrating gaze. He even laughed at you again.

"lighten up for a change, you're always in such a bad mood, bud. makes me assume you got that scowl permanently ingrained to that face of yours.” He commented, spearing a phalange in your direction with a small chuckle lacing his words.

The relationship between him and you remained as intense as ever, despite there being no end to those jokes of his. Not even Careless Whisper obnoxiously nearing a climax in the background did anything to put it at ease either.

He was capable of so much, capable of killing you if he so desired. So what was holding him back? Was he waiting for a sort of cue? A different angle to take a stab at?

There was a slightly awkward and somewhat intense moment where the two of you only glared in silence. Skull was at your side, his tail blissfully wagging despite everything, seemingly wanting to ignore the intensity of one another's hatred altogether.

Sans’ eyes flickered over to said dog and he seemed to be reminiscent of something, seeing his body loosen up.

“thing is, i’ve taken a liking to… skull over there. i’d say you’re lucky he showed up when he did. who knows how i would’ve dealt with you if he hadn’t.”

…

Your scowl twitched a bit at that, flailed really. 

Was he implying… that he was going to kill you?

Either way, it was a fact that Skull had swooped in just in time to prevent the possible worst from happening… and you were unsure whether that made you feel any better about this, blood freezing over.

“Is that a threat?” You hissed, narrowing your eyes at him presumably.

Those socket lights seemed to dim when they flickered back at you.

There he was, giving you that absolutely infuriating, nonchalant shrug of his again, closing his socket lids, making you question if your body was as bad as you assumed. One more round wouldn't hurt, would it? You really wanted to beat the shit out of him.

“frankly, i really don’t care how you translate it,” He shifted, briskly turning his back to you before pausing for a moment. “maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. just know that if i ever see you on my property again…”

He fell silent, unmoving.

You stared, sitting stupefied on the prickly grass, silently watching the back of his skull and the vexing blue of his hoodie. And then a scoffed emitted from you.

“What are you gonna do? Turn me in?” You retorted with a scathing laugh, hoping this was a mere one of his poorly timed quips adorned in false intimidation.

…

He stood still as you realized everything had fallen quiet again. No more Michael, no more rushing adrenaline, and you had nearly forgotten of Skull's existence due to his uncharacteristic silence as well. Only left with eerie stillness and the sound of your heart starting up again after skipping a singular beat.

Despite having his back to you, he didn't bother turning his head when a response surfaced.

“nah. but trust me when i say that when i’m through with you…”

Then, he finally shot you a glare, an abysmal socket leering at you from over his shoulder. Your gaze was solely sharpened to him, his face, that one black hole of a socket, fixated almost to the point of torture.

“outrunning the law will be the least of your worries, six.”

…

He said that name in a different way this time, a horribly different way. 

One that left you feeling your sins crawling on your back and made a number of things abundantly clear. It wasn’t just a name, it belonged to you now, he made it belong.

Irrespective of whether you resisted from here on out, you were Six.

Whenever you found yourself caught up in a pickle such as this one, the people who were driven into being your enemies were usually very explicit and straightforward in their threats. You’ve had individuals threaten to blow your brains out, beat you to the brink of death, others preaching that they’d commit such despicable and heinous acts toward you that'd make you wish they had killed you instead.

That wasn't the case with Sans.

Threats of any sort typically leave you feeling enraged. But his had left a different feeling. It was too vague for your liking, leaving you at the edge of your seat in the worst of ways, a seat dangling at the edge of a skyscraper. And in a way, it was so much worse. At least with the explicit ones, you’d know what was coming to you, and be able to prepare yourself for the inevitable.

So, the dread of what Sans would do to you if you disregarded his warning was a torture beyond words.

Despite your desire to actively avoid knowing what he meant, it appeared that your thoughts were working against you as they filled in the blanks; the bloodstained, brutally grotesque, and monstrous blanks of his implications.

His image vanished from your view and the sudden inability to move left you in a daze.

In order to justify it, you tried to convince yourself it was simply due to the extensive abuse your body had undergone.

But your mind’s eye couldn’t stop the plaguing image of that pitch-black socket, his final words echoing throughout the chambers of your scrambling mind despite Skull's attempt to comfort you.

Even when you recalled the fact that your knife was still in Sans' possession, you were far too busy trembling to feel angry in the slightest.