Summary: Sans gets split into two halves. One is stuck in a dirty sock; The other has their body.
"Ugh..."
Eyes squeezed shut, Sans groaned from his place on the floor. The world felt like it was spinning. Despite the fact, not him or anything around him moved an inch. Pain flared in his chest. A horrid stabbing sensation reminiscent of when the kid slashes him across the ribs.
What happened, he wondered.
The floor lacked the signature chill of the Judgment Hall... So he hadn't just fought the kid. Feeling around, he noticed the ground was oddly plush. Like carpet? A hand firmly rubbed against the soft, connected strands. Yeah, definitely carpet. But where did that leave him?
The surface was an unlikely option. If he remembered correctly, Frisk reset recently. Though, given his scrambled thoughts, he couldn't fully cross out the possibility. The Ruins? Nah. Sans gave up on bargaining with Toriel a long time ago. Waterfall? No. Too wet; He shouldn't have been watching Papyrus train, either.
It was a Saturday, wasn't? An exercise free day?
Great. He couldn't even remember which day of the week it was.
Sans laid limp, thoughts swirling in his mind, much like the room's sensation. Once the dizziness subsided, he dared to crack open his eye sockets.
A pile of sticky-notes. A dusty, old couch and ancient TV. Stairs leading up to a loft with a novelty bone paint. Sans relaxed. He was home. A good thing, but something still felt off. Unusual.
The brat didn't do something, did they? The last thing he needed was more f-ing games and new ways to be tortured. Wait. Where is Papyrus?
It seemed some investigation needed to be done. Especially if Frisk- Chara, whoever the hell they claimed to be, decided to spice up the timeline. Placing his arms on either side of his body, Sans slowly lifted himself into a sitting position. Thankfully, the world remained steady as he did so.
Where to start? He took a shaky step toward the stairs and froze.
His lab! He had been doing something in there, though couldn't quite recall what. Would Papyrus be there? Maybe. Maybe not. There was only one way to find out. Teleportation was fast. So that's what he did. Sans gathered his magic, ignoring the sharp pain in his chest, and teleported to the secret room. The scenery shifted in an instant, and the stocky skeleton found himself standing in the middle of a messy tile room.
Papers strewn about, old science books laid out, the lights on his broken machine flicker- But no Papyrus... Wait. The lights on his godforsaken machine were flickering. That malfunctioning piece of scrap metal was working.
Sans couldn't not wonder, What on Earth did I do?
It had been nonoperational for years. Any efforts to get it up and running were in vain. He took a step closer, inspecting the outside and notes scattered around it. Then something caught his eye. A little piece of fabric protruding from one of the machine's crevasses. Plucking it from its' hiding spot with the upmost care, Sans drew the cloth closer to his face to get a good look at it.
A... sock? It was a sock.
Sans winced, Sheesh, Pap is right. I really need to learn the fine art of cleanliness.
Right before he could toss the offending object into the nearest trashcan, something interesting occurred. Something a sock should not, under any circumstances, do.
"Uhh, me- Sans? I think we have a problem." Sans' jaw dropped as the sock spoke. In his own voice! Shocked, he immediately checked that sock. And it worked. Because... Well- T H E S O C K H A D A F - I N G S O U L .
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Sans the Skel- Er, sock?
LV: 0
EXP: 0
HP: 0.5/0.5
DEF: 1
ATK: 1
*This is an unexpected turn of events.
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"You've got to be kidding me."