Save Point (Sans x Reader)

Chapter Thirty-Eight, Part Four

The earthy scent of flowers wafts through the air when you step out of the hotel room. Sans follows your footsteps and stops when you do, staying back when you decide to stare at the landscape laid out in front of you. More at home with your surroundings, you rest your hands on the cold, metallic rails of the balcony and urge Sans to do the same, the new set of flowers blooming by the distance serving you as a quick subject for conversation.

“Do you know much about the flowers where you used to be?” you ask, turning to him. “I’m curious about how things were like underground.”

“I guess aside from the Echo flowers, I’d say everythin' else was pretty much a lil' similar. We had our shining rocks and drastic climates, but most of the stuff under there can also be seen up here. Population-wise, now that’s a whole other thing.”

You rest your body against the railings, eyes enclosing on the monster next to you. He notices your interest and chuckles once when he sees you plan to stay quiet.

“Dunno if you’ve noticed, but I don’t really know how to get along with new people. Humans and monsters are different enough that I didn’t know what to do around you when I started feelin’ close to you. I didn’t know how much was too much -- what you liked and what you didn’t like. In the end though, it turned out you were just like everybody else I knew: a person just dealin’ with life. I guess I saw Frisk as one of us, ‘cuz when it was time for me to deal with stuff at the Surface, I didn’t know what to do when I came across the ones that wanted nothin’ to do with us -- and even less with the ones that wanted to help us, ironically enough.”

He stops speaking to stare at you, returning to his line of thought when he sees your interest hadn’t diminished with his word flurry.

“But it ain’t just about that, either,” Sans continues, looking towards the garden again. “When it was time for me to look after Frisk, I had to study up on an entirely different science -- I had no clue what colds, flu, or any of those diseases were, so when Frisk got sick, I kinda just panicked and tried callin’ someone for help.”

The next time he stares, it’s not into your eyes. You can see his irises focus on other features of your face: from the (s/t) shade of your skin to the way your mouth curled to form a smile.

“Then there’s physical appearance. Humans ain’t that different from each other, so it was odd finding out about the tension some had with each other for tinier differences.”

He stops looking when you smile at him, teasing him over his staring by letting your smile turn to a sly grin.

“As for you. . . You’re uh, surprisingly soft. Some monsters are fluffy, but then there’s your softness, no matter how fit you look from the surface. It still feels weird whenever you grab my hand or hug me -- a good kinda weird, ‘course. Maybe you have a stronger build ‘cuz of police training, but you’re not scaly like Undyne.”

The monster ends with his explanation, gaze now cast down at the flowers swaying with the new, sudden surge of wind. You rack your brain for anything that might go with his words, eyes inspecting the expression on his skull -- the subtle furrow of his eye sockets and the tense view of his smile.

“What would you like to know about us?” you ask, catching onto his untold words. “I can tell you if you wanna know more.”

Seeing his visage change for an easy smile and relaxed brow, you feel content with your choice of words and push them forward by moving just a tad closer to his side, brushing shoulders with him lightly.

“I dunno where I could begin,” he replies, shaking his head. “The dumpster at the Underground. . . Stuff from the Surface usually fell down there, and some monsters would often dig around to see what things were like up there. Alphys found out 'bout some of her hobbies through that place.”

“Then what about you? What things are you interested in?”

“I’d have to think that through before givin’ you an answer.”

The balcony goes silent after his response, it possessing the same feel as the answer he had given to the Temmie regarding what he liked about you. With the silence, Gerson’s words rise amongst your thoughts again, though the instant ache in your chest forbids you to bring it up right there and then. You knew it was risky to keep setting that aside, but with what happened at the beach and at the elevator -- not counting the numb, bone-deep tiredness you felt, you didn't have the strength to make mention of that topic. 

“I owe you an explanation ‘bout my job, right?” Sans voice asks, shaking you out of your thoughts. “Just tell me when you’re ready, and I’ll talk.”

“How did you know?” you question back, eyebrows tilting up slightly. You see he’s closed off the space entirely, a hand carefully reaching for your arm when he’s aware you’re looking at him.

“You look worse than Burgerpants on a Monday night.”

It’s hard for you not to have a change of expression when he states that, a laugh stopping you from getting a word in on that comment. 

You force yourself to breathe out, chest hurting with how much you held that back. “Alright. Can we talk about it tomorrow? I think I still need to process what happened at the elevator.”

“Tell me about it. But sure, (Y/N) -- Whenever you’re ready.”

★

With Sans resting next to you, the air conditioner set lower than normal, and the muffled sound of the television playing at the far end of your room, you feel sleepy and at peace. You take this moment to look through the gift Sans had given you, retrieving the dark blue gift wrapping you spotted while at work. Hearing paper crumble, Sans shifts slightly in bed and opens his eye sockets, sleepy irises fully waking up at the sight of you unwrapping the gift. 

“A book on monsters?” you ask, reading the title. It has the words ‘The Underground 101: An Understanding on Monsterkind’ written in the least appealing font you knew of: comic sans. “Did you. . . write this book yourself?”

“What gives it out?” he asks, voice groggy with sleep. His chuckle is heartier than usual, and you feel your heart leap when he nudges in closer, pressing himself next to you.

“Didn’t know you were an author,” you comment, surprise tracing your voice. “Is this your first book?”

“Second one, actually,” he responds, bringing a hand on top of the book. “You’re the first one to read any of ‘em, though. I don’t think I plan on making ‘em public, so I mostly just use the copies to help tutor kids around the school.”

“That’s adorable,” you remark, a goofy laugh leaving your mouth. “You’re such a softie underneath all that bone.”

“Maybe I was bone to be that way all along,” he jokes, pulling his hand back. The pace of your heart rises when he sits up in bed, irises staring down at you now that you’re the only one laying down. “Don’t read that book ‘till I’m gone, though -- It’s. . . kinda embarrassing having you read it while I'm here."

“What if I can’t fall asleep? The TV isn’t helping.”

“Then I’ll find another way.”

Warned by his words, you shift back against the headrest of the bed, stopping when you bump with the wood.  “What do you mean?”

“I’ll wake up Faust so he keeps you company.”

“Don’t you dare!”

You stand up fully from the bed, ready to chase him out if it was necessary. While your mind assures you he was only joking, your gut tells you to go stop him. You do the first thing that comes across your mind, that being to throw yourself at him, similar to how you used to do when chasing after a thief. He dodges you, however, a loud, unrestricted laugh leaving his teeth as he watches you fall face-first into the mattress, a loud ‘thump’ accompanying your fall.

Your second attempt is successful, though it’s less of a careful fall now that he’s not in bed. A louder thump follows when you jump down on him, his back hitting the carpeted floor of the bedroom while you fall on top of him. Your chest rises and falls as you try to catch your breath, hand holding him back while your legs brush with his.

“Alright,” he wheezes out, a chuckle bursting through his words. “Fair’s fair -- You win, (Y/N).”