It's around four hours later, when the sun's beginning to hide, that he's able to sit down with them to participate in the game they'd spoken about.
Getting into that glare fight with the Calico had led to his partner poking fun at him for another hour, half of it used to ask about how jealous he was, and the other half to discuss whether he was more of an ass, face, or personality type of guy.
He, naturally, chose personality above everything else.
Though he did show appreciation for how cuddly they were.
And that had led on to them proposing a different challenge, where he had to watch at least two hours of Netflicks with them without any cuddling.
He lost quickly, of course.
But it was a defeat he didn't regret.
"Alright, so..." He looks towards them to see they've set everything up for the challenge. Red cups and an open bottle of vodka lay on the nightstand, and they load up an 'uwu' text converter on their phone for future use, plus a pair of dice to determine any possible dares along the way. "Let's begin!" they exclaim, taking out their notebook. A stern aura exudes from them as they flip past the cover and land on the first page, hinting at the difficulty of their question. "Have you," they say, "for the past few months... considered finding any professional help for your situation? I'll give you over half a minute to answer."
The lie he wishes he could respond with barely gets a chance to leave his teeth.
He'd been taught to be earnest since his early teen years, when Asgore took him under his wing.
Those lessons have their consequences now as time runs out, yet they show him mercy for it being the first round by choosing the easiest penalty out of all four: a shot of alcohol.
"I know I said the one who asks the question chooses the punishment, but... You can still tell me if anything makes you uncomfortable, and I'll change it up, okay?" they add, smiling at him. "'Cuz this challenge doesn't mean you need to feel bad -- It's the opposite, actually. We're here to vent!"
"Thanks," Sans replies, recovering from the drink's strong taste. "...I'll keep that in mind." He chuckles. "But it's my turn now, doll." Saying that, he sets the cup aside, flips his own notebook open, and reads, "Do you wanna try fixing things with Brenda? Or would you rather not talk to her anymore after what she did to you? I'm gonna give you a whole minute to answer this one."
"Well..."
The time limit passes on without them uttering another word in response.
"Looks like you lost this round, too," he states, grinning. "So I can choose any kind of punishment?"
"...Yeah," they reply, already suspicious. "You can rotate between all four."
He gives their words some thought and observes them throughout.
"Take off your foundation."
"That doesn't apply as clothing."
"It's either that, or your jacket. Your choice."
"Hey -- No fair! I gave you an easy one."
"Not my fault you're so soft."
Sighing, the human stands up and fetches a packet of facial wipes from their belongings. They slip their glasses off and use two of the wipes to remove the foundation, a feat to accomplish due to it being waterproof. When they're finished, they slide their glasses back on and face him with an uncertain gaze. Their skin is still the same (s/t) he's grown to adore just as much as every other aspect of their outer appearance, though it's a bit bleak, and with several faded acne scars sprinkled across it. What's most noticeable out of everything about them is how their eye bags aren't prominent any longer and how their gaze is more confident.
"You've healed a lot, huh?" He feels a strong sense of warmth bloom in his chest. "That's good."
"I don't look like I'm half-dead anymore, you mean?"
"You look better. Still tired, but healthy."
He eyes them over again and centers on the sleeves of their jacket.
Every outfit he's seen them wear for the past few days since the incident at the Judgment Hall has been nothing besides long sleeves; the last time he remembers seeing their bare arms was when they had to change into his clothes to counter the heat of Hotland.
"Now I'm curious why you don't wanna take off your jacket," he comments, masking any potential signs of worry in his voice through an easier, lighthearted tone. "Did somethin' happen?"
They shake their head and flip past the first page. "Next question." He could award them a medal for how well they brushed that topic off, almost as easily as they had done with the page. "What was your... honest view on humans before you met Frisk, other people, and.... And me? I'll give you a minute and a half this time."
Time starts running too fast for him to process.
Right before the end, he replies with, "I didn't exactly think fondly of them. There were times when I... held a grudge against them, no matter the context presented. I wanted to have nothing to do with humans, if it was possible."
"So, hatred?
"Yeah, well... Kinda?
"You pass this round, then."
"You're really not gonna ask more?"
"Not now, bub. It's only one per turn!"
Although he's not quite in favour of how they flick such a heavy subject aside so easily (again), he desists and moves on to his question.
"What do you find the most weird or strange about me? You have one minute."
As if a completely new person possesses their body, his partner looks away and rubs the back of their ear as they eventually answer with, "Are you really asking this? I thought you already knew!" They huff and brace themself. "It's... It's your face, alright? I still can't process how you're able to show different expressions, eat, drink, and... kiss with that skull." Then, they breathe out. "Though I'm not sure if... what I learned about you from that article you wrote surpasses that."
"Round passed."
"Can't you answer any of that, please? I'm curious."
"You'll have to leave that for another round, puddin'." He snickers. "Or didn't you say that yourself?"
They let out a defeated sigh, but nonetheless, move forward with, "Fine, then... To what extent can you teleport? I take it you need to visualize where you want to be to get there? Or... Do you have to visit that place to be able to do that? No time limit for this one."
"Both are right. I need to visualize the place, but I also can't do it all willy-nilly if it's someone else's house. If it's somewhere outside, then there's no problem with me going back and forth between places. Though the bigger the distance it is, the more energy it takes outta me. I'd probably die if I tried to teleport to another country -- even the city next to ours would pretty much wreck me."
"Passed with A plus," they reply, chuckling. "Thank you for clearing that out."
He winks. "No prob."
It's his turn now, though he's nearly forgotten there's still a challenge with how casual that last conversation was.
"What's something you wish you could do, now that you're gonna have a lil' more time for yourself? No time limit here, either."
Their face lights up at the question.
The human sits straighter, similar to a dog when it hears an interesting noise.
"This one's easy!" they exclaim. "Read books again, maybe have a pet I'm not allergic to, learn a few more recipes, travel somewhere close like a field trip of some kind, maybe try my hand at a new hobby, take a course on Basic Monster Biology, finish my degree... Too many things!"
"Round passed with A plus plus plus, with bonus points for your dedication and enthusiasm."
They smile wide. "Thank you."
It seems as if they're the one to forget the challenge now, as they scramble to flip over to the next page when he reminds them it's their turn.
"What... What made you change your view on humans? I'll give you two minutes to think about this."
He doesn't need that time, as he already finds the answer to that question the second it lands on his mind.
"The fact that we can all feel and go through multiple emotions, and that we can go through similar experiences despite our differences. We can both have family, friends, and things we love. And... We can have our conflicts with each other, even if we don't always mean what we say or do."
"Passed!"
Sans feels his face hurt from grinning like an idiot at their sudden surge of energy.
"Would you believe me if I told you I find you very attractive right now? Like the whole shtick you're giving off with that lab coat, your glasses, and how serious your face looks during your questions. Makes me feel like I'm being interviewed for somethin' big."
They shake their head and bite back another smile. "Ask the actual question, Serif."
"What's your ring size?"
"Actual question, sir. Or I'll count your flirting as you losing this round, even if it's your turn."
"Ideal way to spend our first night together?"
"That's it. Take off your shirt, bonehead!"
He only stares at them and waits.
"You mean, like... Now?"
They roll their eyes.
"Yes."
He lies back and rests both his hands behind his skull.
"Don't really feel like it."
"It's an order."
Some long seconds of silence pass before Sans sits up straight to look at them, feigning confusion in his gaze.
"Oh, really?" he asks, chuckling. "Shoulda told me that sooner."
He laughs louder as they groan in frustration and lunge at him.
Their hands grab fistfuls of his shirt while they push him closer to the bed.
"Fine. I'll do it myself," they state, huffing. "Just... Stay still, and don't try anything funny."
The skeleton has to contain a shudder as they slip the piece off him.
"You do know you're being very suggestive, yeah?"
"I don't care. This is your punishment."
"Helluva nice one, I'll admit."
They sigh. "I'm only adding fuel to the fire, huh?"
"Woah." He chuckles. "So, now you noticed? I'm impressed."
If looks could kill, he'd be back underground.
How they're willing to date him is beyond him.
"It's my turn, regardless," they state, snapping him out of that thought. "Can I..." They hesitate. "Can I rely on you, if we were to divide the care we give to Frisk? I don't want to push any of my responsibilities on you, since, well... Y'know. Throwing parenthood right onto your shoulders isn't exactly the best way to start off a relationship."
He doesn't need to think twice about this one and meets their eyes; his soul beats a mile a minute as he braces himself for what he's about to say. "Yeah -- I already knew what I was signing up for when I started flirtin' and goofin' around. Now can ya let me stand up?"
They do as he asks and sit in wait.
'Hotwkwardly' cute is one way to describe the expression that stays on their face after having given them an answer.
"On a scale from one to ten, how much do you think you've improved these past few months?"
"Five. Average."
"That's all?"
"Yes."
It's now their turn, though with how cutting their reply was, he feels as if he's lost another one of his chances.
The skeleton would have to form his own set of rules and punish the human for not being detailed enough; then again, he also has himself to blame for not being specific with what he wanted answered.
He simply hadn't expected them to take advantage of that question; a heartfelt talk about how they've improved, maybe -- but not them finding a loophole and using it for their benefit.
And not them acting so dry so suddenly, most of all.
"Would you like me more, if I were a monster?"
Sans would imagine this to be the cliché of him spitting his drink in shock at such a direct and abrupt question.
"...What?"
"Please, answer me."
Their tone makes that come off as a plea rather than a command.
It feels like a trick question, yet their face hints that it's not.
"I'd like you the same," he replies. "Shouldn't that go without saying?"
They frown. "I'm not sure."
"What made you have that doubt?"
Their face only grows dimmer as the topic carries on.
"You know that bunny who, uh... punched you at Grillby's bar?" the human continues, looking at their lap. They pick at their nails without staring at their hands, revealing a subconscious, nervous habit. "Well, they figured out my number, and..." Their voice breaks as they give him their phone. "Just take this and read it."
He takes the device and stares at the screen to see lengthy text messages from one of his bar friends.
You really think you're all that, huh?
That first line alone makes him consider his friendship with them and what boundaries he's allowed them to cross recently.
One thing was punching him square in the face while they were drunk, the other was outright harassing someone they had never even met in person before when they were still sufficiently sober to type properly.
I doubt he'd be interested in you, were you just a random person and not Frisk's parent.
I doubt he'd have that same pity and compassion he has for you.
You don't deserve half of the friends you've made.
Not with Toriel, not with Undyne, not with Alphys, not with Papyrus,
And certainly not with him.
You're lucky he-
Sans stops reading, feeling he's had about more than enough with those messages, yet he finds an urge to finish when seeing the hurt look on his partner's already gloomy gaze.
-even accepted protecting you.
You don't deserve ANY of those relationships.
And you don't deserve to be called Frisk's parent.
You only think about how you can redeem yourself after being such an awful role model.
So don't ask yourself where it all went wrong the moment you accept the truth.
If the previous texts crossed the line from planet Earth to an unlisted black hole, the very last one crosses an entirely different universe.
You deserve to be alone, it reads.
He sets the phone aside and does the first thing he can think of.
His arms fall on their back and he tugs them for their head to rest on his shoulder. They, contrarily, stay as stiff as a tree trunk. "...They're not wrong," he hears them mutter. Not long after, they push him away. "I've barely improved much, but... That doesn't mean I can't work harder to deserve things, right?" they ask, question rhetoric. "I just hope I can get there eventually. I want to be someone Frisk can be proud of."
They point with their gaze at his notebook and -- again -- ignore the gravity of the situation.
"Your turn," they add, impassive.
"Dunno about you, but I don't think it's the right time to go back to that." The skeleton offers them his hand. "Wanna head out for dinner now? It's gettin' late."
"I'm not hungry."
"C'mon."
He joins them in bed and lies atop, obliging them to look up at him.
"You go, dude. I'm fine."
"That's the biggest lie I've ever heard."
Aware of where this is escalating towards just by the smile they let show, Sans leans close and presses a kiss to their cheek, low enough to be considered their jaw.
"I'm not going if you aren't," he says, grinning. "So that means I'll have to eat you instead."
"I'm probably too salty for your taste."
The monster reaches for their neck, finds a spot they can cover with their shirt's collar, and sucks at their skin; then, he pulls away. "Nah," he comments, laughing. "You're more sweet n' sour, if anything."
Seemingly having caught on to the situation, they ask, "Is... the door locked?"
He looks towards it and uses a small fraction of his magic to verify that.
When it doesn't budge, he answers with a nod.
They bring him closer and wrap their arms around his neck, keeping him suspended over them.
"I-"
"Meow!"
"What the hell does that cat want n-"
His exasperation is cut short as he hears another meow more desperate than the previous one.
It sounds near the balcony, so he goes to check the noise.
"Stay here, puddin'," he says, pulling away and standing up.
The sound of a rowdy fistfight makes him pause halfway through.
"You shouldn't go alone," the human blurts, getting up from the bed. They fix their disheveled state, and all the embarrassment from what they'd been doing with him in bed fades.
"Meow!"
Knowing he can't wait much longer, Sans stands up and arrives at the table with his belongings, from where he retrieves a large and well-worn backpack, mostly empty with the exception of some daily utilities and the one thing he wanted to avoid since he agreed to Asgore's conditions of watching over Frisk's parents. At the very bottom, cushioned and protected by one of his spare jackets, rests the box he'd ignored since he signed that agreement, and even more since the day Jerry gave him the official Surface approval for it. The thought of what its use implies makes him feel as cold as Snowdin, yet he's aware there aren't many options available at the present moment. He had to fight fire with fire if he had only one chance to protect the human with him, plus the cat shouting for anyone's help. For once, magic was as useful as bringing a knife to a gunfight.
Bracing himself through tight shoulders, he takes out the weapon, stores the empty box away, and looks back to the one waiting for him.
"You should follow behind me and watch my back, then," the monster states, meeting their eyes as he secures the revolver tight in one hand. "That threat's still fresh, so we shouldn't risk it."
Their eyes stay wide and their mouth lays agape. "Y- You have a gun?!"
He nods and tries not to let his sentimentality get to him when he sees they react just a tad too surprised and fearful overall, for someone who he deemed as his significant other.
But what did he expect?
They'd only just managed to trust him.
And now he's... waving a firearm at their face!
"It got approved thanks to Jerry," is the only thing he can speak aloud.
"Meow!"
At that fourth call for help, he signals for them to follow him and arrives at the balcony to see the gardener now lying limp and beaten on the floor. Blood stains his matted fur, and his state worsens as more kicks and punches are thrown at him. His face remains stern as he looks up at his set of attackers, and he spits fresh blood at their feet when one of them lands a solid hit at his mouth, breaking some teeth.
"Which room, C*lvin Kl*in?" the woman with the eagle mask asks, yanking the victim's chin to make him look at her. "Loops don't work here, so why are you trying so damn hard to protect them? Save your own ass first, dammit!" She lets go and places her foot on top of the feline's head, pressing on it as a warning. "You have one minute before I crack your skull open."
The skeleton aims at the floor close to her, yet he's stopped by his partner placing a hand over his arm.
"I'm not gonna hurt anybody," he says, hoping to get his message across. "I'm pointin' at the ground."
"Still," they reply, frowning. "You drank a little, so if something happens..." Their fingers almost dig into his bones with the strength they apply. "They'll blame you, and I don't want you in jail." Their grip is strong and produces pain, though he doesn't say anything, nor does he brush them off. "I- It's my fault. I shouldn't have made you drink while... while knowing you're meant to protect me."
"That won't happen, so don't blame yourself."
"How can you be so sure about it?"
"It's hard to explain."
Click.
He prepares to shoot.
Based on the movement he registers from the one with him, he can tell they flinched in response to the noise.
Their hand continues to hold him back, and he can see his arm attain a subtle shade of red from the pressure they exert over him.
"I'll give them what they want," they insist. "That should keep them from hurting him, so don't do it."
"I can't allow that. You should stay ba-"
They cut him off to shout, "Hey," and continue with an, "Over here!" as they stay behind him.
The masked trio halt what they're doing and look up in the direction of the noise.
"Leave him alone," Sans adds, now the center of attention. "And then we can talk."
His companion huffs and changes his plans by brushing him off themself. "I'm here," they repeat, walking up to the rails of the balcony. "Get away from him! He's got nothing to do with me."
"M- Mew!"
The cat's call is desperate as he tries to stand up. The woman holding him back doesn't retaliate, yet he's too weak to get off the ground on his own. With how dilated and teary his gaze is, it's not farfetched to assume he didn't want for them to expose themself like that.
"You were gettin' all freaky with your boyfriend in there, weren't you? Or does this hotel gotta reputation for hosting shirtless men?" the man in a fox mask asks, tone hinting at him to be grinning. "Hey -- You know what? Maybe if you show us a video, we'll listen."
"Blech," the Calico hisses, closing his eyes and shuddering afterwards.
"Ugh. Same," the eagle comments, offering her sympathy towards him. "I don't think I'd like to see that."
He catches the last one of the three -- a man in a deer mask -- pulling out a pistol from his holster.
Acting fast, he aims a sharpened bone at his armed hand, then another two at both of his legs, piercing through his flesh and toppling him over.
The one with him lets out a relieved sigh.
"I won't repeat myself," he says, revolver still out. "Leave the cat, and take off your masks. I wanna see who I'm dealin' with." He takes a quiet breath as he faces the middle one of the three -- the fox. "Though judging by your voices, I can bet one of you's Bus Guy."
He tries not to get distracted by the person with him, who now has their eyes shut tight even while looking away from the scene, already braced for a gunshot.
Nevertheless, him ending up in jail sounds better than risking the possibility of those below to shoot before him.
"...Bus Guy?" the eagle asks, genuinely confused.
"The dude who fought (Y/N) twice; one on public transport, and the other on Asgore's property." Sans points the weapon at the devil in question. "C'mon. I don't like using these, but it feels like it's the only way you'll listen to me." He grins down at the man. "These things are stupidly chaotic, I'll admit. One shot in the right place, and you take a whole life away. Just like that. Life's more precious than that, so it's kinda ironic how easily it can all end."
"What are you -- Batman with a Shakespeare phase?" the fox asks, snickering. "Cut the crap already and shoot me!"
Sans looks to the injured deer cradling his now punctured, bleeding legs and sees the pistol he'd taken out is still waiting there, left abandoned on the floor.
With what little energy he can gather, the Calico drags himself to the weapon, adjusts its safety lock, checks it twice, and... secures it right between his pecs.
He later smiles at the skeleton and gives him a thumbs up, signaling the coast is clear.
The human holds him back again and forces him to lower his aim. "Please," they whisper. "Even if it's in self-defense, y- you know they won't listen. Maybe you have Jerry by your side, but... But you can't really know for sure." They hug his back with a strength opposite to their tone, then kiss his neck. "...I don't want to lose you."
Just as he considers setting it aside, he sees a gun from the corner of his iris, this time taken out by the woman who'd shown the cat sympathy.
Before he can aim, that same monster beats him to it.
He takes the one resting on his chest, removes the lock, and aims with suspicious ease at the hand holding the weapon.
"Nah," Sans says, putting his down. He holds both his hands up in surrender and looks straight at the man challenging him to avoid letting the cat out of the bag. "I'm good."
"Glad we've reached an agreement, buddy." The skeleton can almost hear the smile on the fox's face. As expected, the only armed person left aims at his partner's head and waits for the signal to be given. "I just hope you won't miss 'em too mu-"
Bang!
• • •
⚠️ (LONG) NOTICE AHEAD ⚠️
(Y'all know I talk/write too much, lmao.)
There are plenty of changes to make after so many situations, but FaiCom will most likely be one of the few things that'll stay the same, aside for its schedule, plus the date it'll go on a short (likely 2 month) break.
Cherry Soda will be the next Undertale AU story I'll work with as I take that break, whereas Love Paradox will be rewritten later, before I proceed with any weekly updates. CheSod will have a noir-esque plot, with a whodunnit mystery and more action -- a lot less angst, too! LovPar's prologue will be rewritten, and a few changes will be applied to the plot outline.
• Possible New Schedule •
Once to twice a week on Mondays, Wednesdays, and/or Fridays.
(As a result, the next update will be either on December 31st or January 3rd. No update this Monday nor Wednesday -- Since I took my 3rd dose of the vaccine recently, and now I'm catching up after a full week of rest!)
• Possible Onhold Date (to focus on other stuff) •
April 8th 2022, right after Arc 3 | Pathetic House (the story's climax) comes to a close, and then return on June 8th, 2022.
From the looks of things, it seems as if FaiCom will turn into a bit of a long journey. With how things are currently, I picture the story ending by 2023 and exceeding well-over the 1,000 pages I wanted to restrict myself to, lol. I honestly didn't think I'd be having *this* much fun writing it, so at this point (and from what you might be able to tell, based on how... bizarre certain things are) I'm now (more than ever) writing to have fun, improve with it, and express the things I like about UT and DR, while pairing it all up with a world, family, and overall relationship-building story aimed to be equal parts wholesome/fluffy, serious, spicy, silly, and absurd. (So, uh... Around 20% each.)
I've been playing Undertale on Switch for the past few weeks, since I wanna have a thorough refresher of everything before I carry on with Arc 3, as well as to improve more on how well I depict each character through their actions and dialogue. The nostalgia I've felt by actually playing the game rather than rewatching a playthrough is honestly right on par with replaying Zelda: A Link to the Past on SNES. ¡Dios mío!
In addition to all that, I might just edit and translate my old Alphyne one-shots from Spanish to English, in order to post them on this account. Some of the titles are: Her Devotion (Su devoción), Orange Walls (Paredes naranjas), and Wilted Lilies (Lirios marchitos)! They'll most likely be in a compilation similar to the Mario Princesses one-shots book.
As always, take care, stay safe, and happy holidays, y'all!