“Living things need not just nourishment for the body, but for the soul as well.” – Carole & Tuesday | Episode 15
★
Third Person POV
Sans’s Perspective
Solana has a plan, and Sans knows it.
Why else would she invite a fourth person into the car right after finishing dinner at Grillby’s? Better yet, why would she even pull Grillby with her and leave his business in the hands of his two other workers just for him to sit next to her and leave Sans with (Y/N) at the backseat, going as far as turning on the radio for additional privacy?
While he knew he needed to talk with his (girlfriend/boyfriend) about what they went through and ask if they needed help to cope with it, he had been avoiding the topic in fear of failure. He decides to take a first shot though, remembering the earlier days when he used to work at the Judgement Hall and the speeches he gave to those who went there.
“(Y/N), uh. . . Do you-“
He’s cut off by them hooking their hands around his arm, pressing themselves closer to him. As if that wasn’t enough to make his soul jump, (Y/N) presses a kiss on his teeth and mutters a thank you close to his ear cavity.
“For what?” he asks, the warmth of their actions still lingering on his teeth.
“For lots of things,” they reply, a laugh leaving their lips.
He grows silent for a moment, trying and failing to stay resolved with his prior plans of having a serious talk with them. “(Y/N)?”
They nudge even closer to him -- close enough for him to feel the strong vibrations of their soul. “Yeah?”
“Do ya wanna talk about what happened over there?”
The smile on the human’s face falls out, hands clenching tight onto his arm as their fingers dig deep into the hardness of his bones. They don’t reply verbally, using their head to nod instead. “How did you guys know I was there?”
“I meant about how you feel, (Y/N),” Sans persists, sensing a change of subject. “Did those guys try anything with you?”
“N- No,” (Y/N) stutters, managing another smile as their hold grows even tighter. He can start feeling pain prick at him, though he doesn’t shake them off just yet. “I was. . . scared, though. There was a guy and a girl laughing and joking around about what they wanted to do with me, but in the end. . . All they did was shoot me and refuse to let me die ‘till I went out there in those clothes.”
Noticing the furrow of his brow, the human lets go of their snake-like grip on him, retrieving a chuckle Sans tries to suppress. “You’ve got a strong hold there, pal. No wonder you fought them off for so long.”
Liveliness returns to the human’s face when he comments that, embarrassment surging in their expression when they spot faint nail imprints and scratches on his arm. “Sorry for that. I. . . I didn’t think you’d bruise like that.”
“How’d ya think I bruised, then?”
“Maybe through the soul? . . .Kinda like how you can’t touch ghost monsters?”
“You’re sayin’ I’m like a ghost, then?”
“Not ‘like’, but similar to.”
“So ya think I’m spooky?”
“Again, not spooky. . . but cute," they correct, laughing. "It’s so weird wherever I compare you with Papyrus -- You almost look like the younger brother of the two.”
Feeling the mood’s grown lighter, Sans grows resolved again, taking his cell phone out of his pocket, unlocking it, and readying himself to show the number to (Y/N). With a quick, mental countdown, he gathers wit to speak up about their kidnapping again.
“Sunny gave me this number while you were recoverin’. I know you’ve got those stitches all done with, but this type of healin’s important, too.”
(Y/N) grabs his phone in their hands, narrowing their eyes at the screen. “A therapist?”
“He’s helped Sunny with her own stuff -- Said it’s the reason why she’s even had the courage to work behind a counter in the first place.”
He’s afraid he’s made the wrong move when he sees the human tear up, eyes glossy as they try to keep their smile on and tears from falling. They fold their hands over their lap and look down, a soft yet shaky breath making their chest heave once.
“You okay? Haven’t seen you like that since that whole custody thing with Faust.”
“I’m okay,” they assure him, smile lightening up along with their tone. “Those are happy tears. I’m. . . To be honest, I was worried about our relationship.”
“In what way?” Sans asks, meeting with their eyes as soon as they stop looking down at their lap.
“It’s your first time trying something like this, right? A serious relationship, I mean.”
Warning signs go off on his head when he hears 'serious' and 'relationship' together in that same sentence. Though he did like (Y/N), he couldn't begin to process just how serious his relationship with them was becoming. It was far from similar to the times he hung out with the bunny monster, agreeing into letting them kiss him that one time for the sake of ending it straight with them. He was fond of the bunny, but not in the same way as (Y/N).
“It is. But it feels right.”
“But what if that’s just ‘cuz you haven’t tried it with other people?”
“You’re underestimating how I feel about us, (Y/N). I’ve, uh, felt things for other people, so I know I like you. It ain’t the first time I’ve fallen for someone -- You just happen to be the first one I chose to go out with.”
(Y/N)’s looking at their lap again when he looks towards them, a more pained expression crossing their face. “I understand,” they speak up, sighing as their hands turn to fists, grabbing onto the fabric of the tunic. “And I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to underestimate you -- I was just insecure about myself. I- I’m not exactly a clean slate anymore, y’know? I've slept with other people, I- I'm divorced, and I have Faust to take care of. . . It just feels like I'd be imposing too much on you if I said I wanted to be in a serious relationship with you."
"In what way does that define who you are, (Y/N)? It ain’t like that affects your personality or how you treat other people."
"Maybe it seems silly, bu- but to me. . . It's important -- even more now that I'm affecting the lives of other people and putting them in danger."
"That has nothin' to do with those people or what they're doing to your -- our friends. If that were the case, I would haffta consider myself a criminal just ‘cuz I got a restraining order in my records for being your friend.”
The radio station changes its music for the late night news, putting a halt in his conversation with (Y/N) when both they and himself decide to listen to what the reporter had to say. Solana turns the volume up a notch while Grillby shrinks back on his seat, the way the woman’s hands clench onto the wheel and how the colour of the monster’s fire dims giving Sans a heads up as to what he needed to expect.
“As of the following month, three new laws will be established for the sake of keeping harmony between the two races. The first one, written by the governor of our country, establishes that monsters may keep the land they have covered up until this far, with the condition that they do not step foot into human-owned houses, businesses, and apartments, as well as take on job offers in the same building as humans. Humans who have already decided to work and live in the same places as monsters will be forced to stay in the monsters’ territory if they so choose to take their side. (Miss/Mister) (Y/N) (L/N), Faust (L/N), and Solana Cortez are three examples of this choice. More on these laws will be presented by their creators this upcoming Friday.”
Solana shuts down the radio when it moves onto the weather, the uncomfortable mood that stays along making even Sans want for the silence to be broken.
★
It’s almost close to midnight when Sans finally reaches Toriel’s home. Solana’s busy talking with (Y/N) at the living room while Grillby stands beside him at the kitchen, watching as he pours four drinks -- three with alcohol and one without.
“S’that one for them?” the skeleton asks, referring to the human laughing along with Solana. He can hear the two’re exchanging stories and banter, though he knows better than to overhear what it’s exactly about.
Grillby’s flaming hair flickers as he nods once, setting a liquor bottle aside as he picks up another to form a blend. “. . .” (“It is the best option if they are taking medicine. Since nobody looks like they plan to sleep soon, why not include (Y/N) in, too? They and anybody else who would want to join us shouldn’t be excluded just because they can’t or won’t drink.”)
Sans’s grin widens at his friend’s words, chuckling when the flame sends him an expressionless but all the same powerful glare after making him lose coordination by nudging him. “Ya sure know a lot, pal. Dunno how you’re dedicated to just one profession only.”
“. . .” (“I enjoy it.”) He replies after recovering, a pinch of anger still present in his look. It melts away when he shakes his head softly, flames becoming brighter to match with his surge of contentment. ". . ." (“Up until now, this job’s given me plenty of new perspectives to look from.”)
The conversation ends in time for the drinks to be handed out. He can hear there’s an additional person hanging out by Solana and (Y/N) when he steps out of the kitchen, Sans helping to carry one drink on each hand while Grillby holds onto the other two. When they step out, he can see Papyrus is standing next to the youngest human of the pair, keeping a fluffy, round Pomeranian in his hold as he instructs him not to hurt (Y/N).
“Be careful with them -- I know you like to bite, Toby!”
Toby shakes out of Papyrus’s hold and licks the human’s hand instead, the latter giggling when the dog thrusts his snout onto their palm, waiting for his head to be petted by them. Sans joins in on the fun when handing over the drinks by sitting close to (Y/N), watching as they scratch the dog behind his ear and smile when he yelps out a loud, happy bark at them. As if mimicking Toby’s behaviour, the skeleton places his arms around the human’s waist and brings them to sit on his lap, their weight balanced by the temporary magic he uses to keep them in place. He rests his chin on their shoulder, (h/l) hair tickling his face when they shift in order to take the dog in their hold.
“What’s gotten into you, Sans?” the human asks, a hint of teasing nature in their voice as they turn their head to face him once Toby’s safe in their lap.
“It helps with stress. You’re awfully comfy, (Y/N).”
Sans looks away from the human when feeling something cold on his shoulder now warm by the temperature the human emitted. He sees Grillby standing next to him, two drinks in each hand. The monster hands him the spiked one and the non-alcoholic one to (Y/N), stepping back when the drinks are out of his hold.
“So what’re we gonna do with these laws, huh?” Solana asks, speech already distorted by her drink. Sans can tell she’s not a drinker by how fast that single drink had invaded her system. Grillby, on the other hand, drinks his without much trouble, most of it already evaporated by the time it reaches his throat. A glass of cold milk is in Papyrus’s hands, complimentary of Grillby and his strong belief of not wanting to let anyone feel left behind. “That ain’t the way to solve problems -- Those lawmakers and lawyers should be investigatin’ the town’s mayor instead! Isn’t there at least a little footage of what he did? He should be the one gettin’ punished instead!”
Seeing her brown cheeks now tinted red, Grillby arrives next to her with a glass of iced water, the swiftness of his moves making Sans suppress a chuckle. Even to this day, it still amazed him how quickly the fire monster could adapt to a new or dire situation without so much as batting an eye.
“We should still think positively,” Papyrus exclaims, already halfway done with his own drink. “That just means we’ll have our own little territory to take care of! I bet we’ll still have plenty of humans just like you two and Faust to keep us company. We do not need negative people like the mayor hurting kinder ones!”
Sans has to hold back his figurative tongue when he hears Papyrus talk, his want to intervene and say it wouldn’t be that easy leveled down by his attempt at letting him stay positive, further neutralized when he gazes back at (Y/N) to see they’ve fallen asleep in his arms, small dog included. The empty drink rests besides the empty spot on the couch, one hand holding onto the dog while the other rests limp on top of his interlocked hands pressed against their stomach.
New laws or not, the monster was finally creating something he could call his own: a family and close friendships he could rely on whenever things took a turn, be it for the better or the worse.