The Smell of Old Books (Sans/Reader)

Science Books

(a/n: alternative title: don't cry over split ketchup, _!)

The only person that you knew would go grocery shopping at midnight was, of course, yourself.

You still felt exhausted and worn out, despite all the coffee you had downed mere minutes ago. Work was exhausting. Well. It was more like the ride to get back to your crappy old apartment complex was the exhausting part.

Since you didn't really have enough money to get a car, you relied heavily on the subways and your own feet. The subways, while crowded, stuffy, and long, were reliable and cost-efficent. Not with your own money, of course. Dad always bought you a year-round subway pass for Christmas.

It was nice too. Not really having to focus on anything for an hour or so. You didn't mind the subway, it was just that sometimes it got too crowded for your liking (or anyone's, really).

It only bothered you sometimes that you didn't have a car.
This was definitely one of those times. (The subway ride had been delayed for about an hour, dropping you off at your stop around 11:30.)

You pushed the small cart from aisle to aisle, aimlessly wondering. You had already decided to keep the bookstore closed for the entire weekend – a feat you hadn't done for years. It wasn't like you really had someone to close the store for, and some extra cash always sounded good to anyone.

The reason why you were shopping so late in the night when you had tomorrow off wasn't for any special reason. It was just because you were lazy and didn't want to get out of your house tomorrow. Except for the potluck.

You were a bit nervous thinking about it; you hadn't really been to any sort of party since high school and that was years ago.
You desperately hoped you wouldn't make a fool out of yourself and do something dumb. And you hoped that Undyne's friends would like you. If they didn't, well, maybe Undyne would stop caring for you as well...

Sighing, you tried to make yourself stop thinking about all the negatives that could happen. It wasn't going to make anything better.
Instead, you tried focusing on what you wanted to make.

Mom had always been the better cook around the house, while you and dad just watched and ate. You had her old recipe books, dusty and old tucked away on a bookshelf.
You remembered a few favorite dishes that you loved as a child, but nothing really screamed out for you to make. It was a first impression, after all. The best dish to make would be something that you could easily make a lot of.

Damn, that reminded you, you totally forgot to even ask how many people were going to be there.

You groaned. How much am I supposed to even make?

It would be better if you made more than needed, although you hardly ate anything as is. Leftovers might mean bad news, especially if it was something gross.

Leave it up to you to over think a simple potluck.

Then it hit you.

Whenever your family did something involving food, your mother always made pumpkin casserole. It was an easy dish, you had even helped her out making it before. You even made it all by yourself one Thanksgiving.

You smiled slightly to yourself, albeit a bit tiredly. You wished the coffee would kick in.

Although you weren't making the most exciting or unique dish, it still (might?) come out tasty. Besides, it wasn't easy to screw up a casserole of all things.

You picked out the ingredients for the dish, picking up items like canned pumpkin and flour. While shopping for the items, you did a little bit of grocery shopping for yourself.
Which mainly included a lot of frozen items and hot cocoa. You could hardly be bothered to really make a huge dinner for your party of one.
And hot cocoa was a wonderful godsend.