Fairytale Complex - [Sans x Reader]

Chapter Six | Dogbass (Part 1 of 2)

Updates might be delayed/advanced occasionally due to the holidays from here on, meaning the usual schedule should go back to normal by mid January!

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"Here ya go."

"Thank you."

The consistent tremble of your hand complicates your ability to so much as open the can he's handed out to you. Regardless, you stay quiet and struggle with each attempt you make in opening it, though he offers to do that for you not long after your third try. You hand it over and take it back after it's open and after you've managed to calm yourself a little more through deep and silent breaths.

"We really shouldn't go today with the state you're in," Sans says, sitting next to you on the bench, although leaving enough space for a third person to sit right between you. Whether he's trying to keep distance due to your condition or the fact that you're still just acquaintances -- or both -- is unknown to you, but you're grateful for it. The space helps with your dizziness and the persistent feeling of having every little thing overwhelm you, from the heat of the sun to the loudness of the park and its crowds. "The tour's mostly walkin' for hours, so it's not the best idea if you're all dizzy and stuff." His irises fall on your drink as soon as you finish drinking it. "Need another one? There's also ice cream and donuts if you're up for it." 

"I'm fine." You smile and stand up to go throw the can away. Walking still feels like balancing yourself on an ever-thinning thread, but you have a little more coordination now, sufficient for you not to appear drunk, nor for you to cling onto a complete stranger like you had just a few moments ago when getting down from the bus. It's pathetic to think you had to use the monster for support while going down a few steps, when Frisk managed to travel all over the Underground all on their own and without your guidance. Still, you set those thoughts aside with the reminder that you're still weak and that your health's taken a toll large enough to last for a few more weeks before your full recovery. 

You sit back down with Sans and observe the dogs running around the park, some in groups with others of their kind, some playing fetch and tug-of-war with their owners, and some asking for belly rubs from strangers.

"About the envelope…" you say, trailing off mid-sentence.

"What about it?" Sans asks, looking at you again.

Reluctance causes a noticeable delay in what you want to say and an increase in the intensity of your symptoms, these dulled temporarily by the juice's high fructose and vitamin content. "What's… What's the money for, if it's not for fixing my phone?"

"For your health." His face nearly softens up as he says that, though it goes back to its usual, stoic self when he adds, "You must've taken a few days off just to deal with Frisk's situation, and you've hadda use your own sick days, too, so we all pitched in to help you with that."

"We?" You quirk a brow and frown as you think back on the envelope and all the notes you'd read. None of them hinted at the money being from any other person besides him, and it was the only item inside the envelope that didn't have an individual note attached to it. "Wasn't it all from you?"

The flicker of his irises already gives you the answer, surprise revealing itself with how his gaze widens. "Wasn't there a note stuck to it? It's supposed to be from Tori, Paps, and me."

Though knowing it's much more likely they all pitched in with one hundred each rather than it all being from him alone, you have no memory of any other notes, and even less one related to the money. Curiosity strikes, but you try not to jump to conclusions yet. "There wasn't any. Maybe... Maybe it got mixed up with the other notes?"