Save Point (Sans x Reader)

Chapter Nineteen, Part Two

The sun is already gone by the time you reach the park. For most of the ride, you drive with the skeleton sitting quietly by the front passenger seat, occasionally initiating conversation with him whenever a topic came to mind. The stress of solving the issue with your son was without a doubt still there, though you reprimanded yourself for that when driving past a yellow light, something you had ticketed various people for -- countless, if you included red lights -- during your short time as a cop. No matter how much worry you were submitted to, you didn't want to gloss over that negligence, and even less knowing it could lead to accidents.

You don't notice how much pressure you're putting into gripping the steering wheel until you settle at the nearest, empty lot available at the park's premises. A dull, tingling pain emerges the second you let go, a reddish tint showing on your palms.

"It's a miracle you didn't tear off the wheel," Sans comments, chuckling as he steps out of the vehicle alongside you. "Want me to drive the way back?"

"It's fine," you reply, shrugging off his words with a small, discreet smile. "I'm. . . not as stressed as when we were at the library."

You breathe in as if to compose yourself, though the method is cut short when you hear your phone ring once and then vibrate, signaling a message rather than a call. Reflexively, you take the device out of your jeans' back pocket and unlock it, disappointment making your shoulders droop when checking what it is. The notification shows a subscription e-mail rather than the text you were waiting to receive from one of your friends well-informed with lawyers. You set the phone on silent and follow Sans to the park, taking in the subtle taste of fresh air around you, a luxury given by having this place a bit farther away from the city.

A blue rabbit monster waves at the two of you as you begin to walk past various benches and tiny, artisanal shops just opening for the night. There's a shorter, maroon cat standing close by as well, though he's too busy taking a smoke and just as indulged looking at the darkening sky to notice any changes whatsoever. You wave back at the rabbit and smile, stepping aside when hearing rushed, tip-tapping steps getting closer and closer to the direction you were heading to. A gust of wind follows quickly, barely allowing you enough time to process what was happening.

Barking and low, husky laughter makes you look down to see a white dog standing on top of Sans, his continuous licks at the skeleton's face being the product of that laughter. You bite back a smile as you watch the two, the dog determined to keep him down while the skeleton struggles to stand up. You lend a hand by crouching to pick up the dog, his thick coat of fur tickling your face when taking him in your hold.

"Is he yours?" you ask, the smile you were keeping hidden finally showing on your face.

"Kind of," Sans replies, propping himself up with his arms to sit on the ground and look up at you. "Paps finds him at our kitchen every once in a while, but the lil' guy never really stays in one place for more than two seconds."

"Must be a handful then, huh?" You grin at that observation and place the dog back down on the ground, only letting go when you're certain he won't jump at the skeleton again. "Do you have a bowl, food, and all that stuff for when he's back?"

"I'd be lyin' if I said I don't go to PetSmart every now and then for the guy."

Your expression brightens more at that image, and you take the opportunity to deepen your conversation with him. "What about Papyrus? I take it he's angry whenever the dog messes with the kitchen?"

"Oh, definitely," he remarks, a laugh making his smile tug slightly at the sides. "But he's the first one who brings up a bowl of food whenever Toby's back."

You help Sans up with one hand and pick up the dog with both once you're done. Then, you follow him to one of the benches, sitting just a few feet away from the ice cream cart the blue bunny owned. The dog settles on your lap whereas Sans sits next to you, the proximity not as awkward as when you were first getting to know him.

"That's a cute name," you comment, smiling. You take Toby in your hands and hold him up in the air. "It suits you, doesn't it?"

The dog responds with an animated 'woof' and sticks his tongue out, ready to lick at your face, though you bring him back down before he has the chance to. He circles around your lap two times before finding a comfortable spot, resting his face against your arm by using it as a pillow of sorts. Not long after, he closes his eyes and drifts off to sleep, the energy and spontaneity of the moment slowly dissipating back into calm.

Sonder settles in when you cast your eyes forward, observing how couples, families, and people gathered around the park, some stopping to buy food from the shops while others went straight away to having fun. You look next to you to see Sans staring down at the dog, though he quickly looks up when feeling your gaze on him.

Without a word, he scoots a little closer to your side and maintains eye contact with you, white irises reflecting your face on them. He shuffles on his seat and coughs, breaking the silence that formed since Toby fell asleep.

"You want somethin' from one of the shops?" he asks. "My treat."

You nod and form a smile. "That'd be nice."

Slowly, you take the dog in your hands again and cradle him between your neck and shoulder, careful not to wake him up with your movement. The crowd has grown noticeably in size by how much you have to step aside to give passerby space to walk past you, the act leading you to walk side-by-side with Sans and the dog still in hold. A jogger stops close by and spares an odd look your way, though he shrugs before taking a sip from his water bottle and sprinting off again from the scene.

It's subtle looks like those that remind you of what got you into this mess in the first place. Hadn't you chosen to go against the new laws set up at your hometown, and moved to a city allowing both human and monster kind to work together, you wouldn't've ended up having to go through what you hoped was the temporary loss of your son.

What stops you from thinking negatively about that matter is the dog that presses himself closer to you when shifting in his sleep and the presence of Sans handing you a popsicle with the name 'Nice Cream' labeled on the wrapper.

He helps you with taking off the wrapper -- given you were occupied holding Toby -- and you reach out for it with your free hand. You cast a subtle, curious look his way when he hides the wrapper away from your sight, managing to see some letters on the wrapper, but not being able to read them.