Save Point (Sans x Reader)

Chapter Forty-Four, Part One

Content Warning for this chapter and the next include:

Mild language, foul behaviour, and references to PTSD.

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"It's not about 'tit for tat', it's about 'I love you, too'." – Karen E. Quiñones Miller

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Hypocrite.

That was the one word you could use to describe yourself as you glance a look at the suit you’re wearing.

The deep black dress (skirt/pants) are fitted according to your lower figure while the suit jacket covers most of your chest away under its fabric, a hint of a white polo shirt peeking under your collarbones. Your hair is kept back by styling gel and your shoes are pretty much squeezing too tightly for you to move without looking stiff and awkward. These were the only clothes you had available that resulted appropriate for meeting with the head of the city. You were certain she had to hate your guts just as much as the mayor did, so looking through your old wardrobe to find your small and worn job interview uniform from three years ago was a bit of a two-faced move in your eyes. 

Why bother going through all this effort if you were against the laws people like her were making?

Hell, you had even considered spending a whopping three-hundred dollars just to avoid using old clothing and shoes for the meeting. That thought alone made you stop and think about how you were worrying so much simply to face what most would consider a rival and obstacle for your progress.

Luckily, you don’t look too ridiculous despite your tight shoes and the weary expression on your face -- The lower half of your outfit and your hair looked decent, at least.

“Finished already?”

You jump a little when you hear Sans’s voice close by, mind returning to the present as you turn around and catch him standing by the doorway. Against yourself, a grin stretches your lips, the stuffy look the monster carried just enough of a distraction from your worries. Quite like yourself, he wore a suit jacket just a little too large and formal to seem natural, dress pants baggy by the end and shoes a tad too shiny with polish. It was painfully clear neither him nor you were ready for something as formal as this.

“What's got ya laughing, pal?”

Nerves transforming into hysteria, you melt into a series of chuckles, snorts, and giggles when he waddles over to your side, looking much more unnatural than you did. The sight was too much to bear at once. He had only ever worn casual clothing, the stark difference from today sticking out like a sore thumb.

Breathless, you clutch onto your stomach and fall back in bed, eyes tightly shut as you try to keep yourself from laughing again. “Y- You. . . You look like a penguin working for the mafia,” you state, snickering. “Who even gave you that suit, anyway? It’s way too big for you.”

Still laying on your back, you don’t notice he’s made it to your side, his figure hovering over yours when you decide to open your eyes and stare up at him. He peers down at you with a playful look in his eye sockets, taking on your challenge now that you've made fun of him. “And you look like you’ve been zapped by a shrink ray,” he states, laughing when you glare at him. “Figure a penguin’s the better lookin’ option of the two. The heck’s even s’possed to be that jacket you’re wearin’? It’s almost three times smaller than your size -- The buttons look like they’re gonna fly off anytime soon.”

“What’s up with your jacket?” you tease back, confidence in your tone. “You look more big-boned than usual.”

Creak.