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Thou Shalt Not Kill

Chapter Text

You were in hell.

“knock knock”

There was only that explanation.

Your sins finally crept on you while you were not looking and karma was out for your ass like there was no tomorrow.



Okay, deep breath. Remember that you need this job. Money is good.

“Who’s there?”

If only you could just grab a pen and stab him in his large red eyelight.


Did monsters even bleed? You never stabbed one, so you didn’t know. You planned on educating yourself on the matter really soon.

“Robin who?”

“robin you. now give me the cash, cashier girl”

Would anyone even notice if he went missing overnight?

Ignoring him, you began scanning his products while he kept staring at you with his deranged smile and you prayed that your false one stayed on without the help of stitches.

Ketchup. *beep*

Spaghetti. *beep*

Ketchup. *beep*

You noticed that one of your colleagues was heading straight for you until she saw who was in front of you, which caused her to steer for the vegetable aisle instead.

Crosswords puzzles. *beep*

A woman with a child stopped at the entrance, gave a double take inside and decided that the flower shop across the street was way more interesting. That child was probably going to eat roses and tulips that evening (and for the rest for the week as well).

Ketchup. *beep*

A man ready to come and pay apparently decided at the last moment to help your colleague searching for the meaning of life in the vegetable aisle.

The bane of your existence seemed oblivious of the effect he was having on the general public and kept staring at your face like it was a map and he was searching for El Dorado.

The first time he came in, it was… an experience. Yep, you could call it that. An experience.

You had wondered if your face had suddenly morphed into a TV screen airing his favorite show, but then you realized that he did that with everyone. The only difference was that other people were mostly terrified of him, so everyone gave him a wide berth, stranding you with the ungrateful job of interacting with him.

Pork steaks. *beep*

The staring was only one of the reasons why he pissed you off so much: he always left a mess of articles misplaced or thrown on the ground (or glued to the ceiling), cereals and liquid soap with switched boxes, all slippers somehow tinted pink, canned tuna that floated in the air like it was underwater, and so on.

The only reason he was not banned from the store was that the cameras never actually caught him doing any of that stuff. Also, he always bought enough food to feed a pack of ravenous and by now probably obese wolves. And the owners were chickenshits.

Ketchup. *beep*

Had he taken all their available ketchup again? 

Like he knew what you were thinking, he grabbed one of the many (many) red bottles and drank it in front of you.


Was your fake customer smile still on? Yes, yes it was.

“Do you need a bag, sir?”

Or maybe three hundred?

“nope, I was thinking of going back and forth from my home and this place taking with me only one thing at the time.”

If a skeleton is dismembered, can it fit all in one bag?

Maybe it was time to seriously start thinking about stitches. For him or your smile, you were not yet sure.

After all, in the past you stabbed someone’s arm with a pencil for way less.

After he paid, he proceeded to stash his grocery in the many (many) bags you gave him in the slowest way known to man and monsterkind.

After an indecent amount of time that no one was ever gonna give you back, he finally headed for the exit, squeezing in a last look.

“ketch-ya-up later this week, cashier girl”

Ketch-ya-up later in hell.     


That evening, you were going out to drink. Oooooh yes, you deserved it.

You were short on money, but that was not a problem that your black miniskirt and lowcut top weren’t going to solve. Someone was surely going to pay for your drinks, and if they were cute enough and not totally wasted jerks, you could always have fun with them later in the night.


Before you headed out, you glanced at your agenda, opened at the page “days since the last time”.

You hesitated.

Damn, you couldn’t mark today yet, you were going out and it wasn’t midnight. Anyone could potentially hit your nerves and set you off, forcing you to scrape that page and start from the beginning. Again.

But you were doing so good this time around: there were already twenty-nine marks on the page.

You could resist a few more hours and reach the one month milestone of not causing anyone bodily harm.

You could do this.


You couldn’t do this.

Four drinks, three drunks with octopus hands turned down, and too many rounds of shitty music later, and you realized that your mind kept on returning on how many glass shards you could shove down a human throat before death was a serious possibility.

Groaning, you thumped your head on the booth.

How did your parents keep up with your shit through the years was a mystery to you. A childhood with no pets, no siblings, no friends, full of therapy sessions and body searches every morning before school to be sure that you were not bringing anything sharp or dangerous in the classroom, and yet they still loved you.

It was mainly for them that you insisted on trying to blend in society. You loved them, or, well, you cared for them how much someone like you was able to.

You were not a psychopath in the strict sense of the word.

You had feelings.



You just had a very, very hard time restraining yourself. You could be talking with someone about the weather and in the next moment stabbing their hand with a pen because the way they were tapping on the table was getting on your nerves.

It was not like you woke up in the morning thinking how much you hated humanity and how many ways there were to hurt others, you just… had no filters between your brain and your actions.

But you were getting better. Most of the time, you could pass for a normal human without anyone giving you weird glances.

Thinking about it, it was hilarious that at work people were afraid of the annoying skeleton monster and pitied and admired you for being so brave. If only they knew…

Glancing up at a sudden commotion, you noticed a group of people clustered on the opposite end of the pub. Was a fight about to happen? Why, it seemed that things were looking up!

Indeed, in the next moment a chair went airborne and crashed on the wall next to you.

Picking up your drink, you decided to take a closer look.

“Hey, no fights in my pub! Stop it or I’m calling the police!”

Whaaat? Over already? Boooring.

“Tell it to this freak monster! We were just talking, man!”

You couldn’t see the monster in question through the wall of people, but you sure as hell could hear him clearly because someone had cut the music down.

“that’s rude, pal. that’s mr. freak monster to you”

Wait. Wait wait wait wait wait. Was that…?

“I saw it using magic to throw that chair at me! I could be dead, man!”

“pity that my aim is not the same as before, then.”

“You were insulting him!” someone else piped in. “I heard you make racist comments! You can’t speak like that and then be angry if someone throws chairs at you!”

“It ain’t racist if it’s true! Shut the fuck up!”

You observed the same chair from before making its way slowly in the air until it reached the area directly above where the voices came from. Then it abruptly fell, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out on whose head.

The monster and the unconscious racist wannabe were promptly banned from the pub. One on an ambulance, the other walking calmly out.

Everyone parted to let him pass, and you confirmed that yup, it was the annoying skeleton.

Seeing him exiting, your head was suddenly struck with the thought that you had no idea where he lived. It couldn’t be too far away, the guy looked like he just rolled out of bed and went to the pub without changing. He was in slippers, for crying out loud!

Maybe… you could follow him. If you knew his address, you… well, you were not sure what you could do with the information yet, but it was a shame letting an occasion such as this going to waste.

Maybe you could find a way to make him stop coming to your workplace.

The four drinks in your system told you that this was a brilliant idea.

Wait, maybe you could kill him in the dark without anyone the wiser!

Your cell phone informed you that it was past midnight, so it was perfect. You had already beaten your record, so off you went following the magic skeleton monster  alone in the night.


You were right, he didn’t live far. He was just. So. Damn. Slow.

Why did you thought that this was a good idea?

By the time he stopped in front of a house, you had already lost all the alcohol-fueled enthusiasm that pushed you to begin with, and were only following at a distance out of curiosity.

“following someone at night is creepy, pal. why don’t you come out and say what ya want?”

Keeping still behind the dumpster that was covering you, you slowly blinked, stupefied. Ah. He noticed you. That was new. You were usually pretty good at skulking in the shadows.

Was he going to come and get you? Maybe it was not too late to get some action after all…


Or maybe it was.

A dog began barking at the sudden noise, followed by another one startled by the first one, and so on until what sounded like all the dogs in a mile radius decided that sleeping was overrated.

Yup. Total mood killers.

Lol. Killers.

You decided to call it a night and slipped away in the darkness with a pout.

Alcohol made you slow. And stupid.

Next time you had to remember to bring a rope. And possibly a knife.


The next morning, you were regretting every action that had led to your present existence, from the night your parents forgot their condom to your idiotic life decisions.

Your head felt like a metal band was having a rave party inside your skull, your stomach had already made known its displeasure with you twice, and the deep shadows under your eyes made you seem like a vampire. Or a professional boxer.  

Work was slow and boring, but you didn’t care. You had other things on your mind.  Yesterday night had been a close call. You followed a stranger at night while drunk and alone.

What had you been thinking? You could have attacked him!

You purposely avoided carrying weapons, but a lot of things could cause harm if you knew how to use them. A broken bottle, a piece of wood, a nail, even a shoelace.

That was it, no more drinks for you. Your parents didn’t deserve to receive a call from the police informing them that their only daughter was going to spend her life in prison for murder.

“knock knock.”

What the…

You looked up.

It was him.

For a moment, you were at a loss for words. What was he doing here after only a day? Only yesterday he bought half the store!

“Who’s there?”


“Following who?”

“following me, were you?”     

Oooh fuck.

Chapter Text

"following me, were you?”


How did he saw you, though? You were always behind him, and he never turned around.

Oh well. He probably used magic or some monster voodoo shit that helped him see creeps stalking him in the dark, so there was no reason to lie to him.

But you were curious.

“Yes. How did you know it was me?”

And you were totally not asking that for future times that were definitely not going to happen. At all.

“your scent.”

Was that a kind way of saying that you stank?

“Well, I was drunk and curious. Emphasis on drunk.”

I also sort of wanted to kill you. Wait, I’m at work, I can’t say that.

“I also wanted to kill you.”

What the hell, brain?

The skeleton monster took your traitorous mind’s confession pretty well, though. And by that, you meant that he didn’t change expression at all, his hands stayed in his pockets instead of relocating themselves anywhere on your person in self-defense or revenge, and his feet didn’t make a step in any direction that would help him make a fast retreat or a swift attack.

“why?” he asked in what to your ears sounded like a neutral tone.

Which for him meant low and “I smoke a pack every hour and they call me to dub the psycho in every horror videogame”.

You looked around: everyone was busy pretending that your current spot was a quarantined zone full of zombies, so you had enough privacy to talk about your brilliant drunken ideas.

“This is the part where you should freak out. You know, when someone mentions “kill” and “you” in the same sentence” you explained to him helpfully.

He shrugged.

“i can recognize someone who’s hunting, so i already knew what you wanted to do.”

The ‘duh’ was so evident in his voice that it was a wonder it didn’t crawl out of his mouth to tattoo itself on his forehead.

You… didn’t expect him to be so nonchalant, but then again, until this moment you never really deduced anything about his personality, save for the fact that he liked pranks and puns. His appearance meant that it was difficult to interpret his expressions and you weren’t really that interested in him to begin with. To be fair, you weren’t interested in anyone, monster or human.

You shrugged your shoulders. “Well, I changed my mind halfway through, so it doesn’t matter why. But if you knew I was following you, why did you let me?”

“i wanted to see if ya got the guts to do it.”

You were leaning towards him at this point, more curious by the second.

“And what would have you done if I did?”

Finally, his expression did change: his smile became even more pronounced, and his eyelight restricted. “i’d have killed you. eventually.”

What… oooh. He was implying he’d have tortured you.

Which, now that you were sober, you realized was something you should really have thought of: torture and death in a basement were more efficient than straight up killing in front of a house out in the open. Clearly, drunk you was a long shot from the best you.

Your brain decided to mark that thought with a painful throb.

Yes, I know that I was stupid. No need to be a bitch about it. 

He inclined his head.

You wondered if the reason he did that was because the half of his skull that didn’t have a giant crack on it was heavier.

“your heartbeat never really changes, does it? are you brave, or are you stupid?”

Well, to be honest, you lacked any sense of self-preservation, so you were physically unable to feel fear.

You were also starting to notice the annoyed glares one of your bosses was giving you with progressing frequency.

Time to cut the lovely chat short.

“Sooo, do you want to buy anything or…”

“are you going to do it again?”

What, try to kill him?

You opened your mouth to tell him you did it only because you were drunk and… wait.

Wait a minute.

That was it.

The secret to solve all your skeleton-related problems!

You were going to spook him into not returning ever again!

You plastered your best fake smile on your face. “Of course I’m going to do it again! I can’t really help myself, you know? I’m crazy, in case you didn’t notice.”

His reaction was… a reaction all right: he grinned so much that his skull seemed on the verge of splitting in half, tugging at his empty eye socket with two fingers. Phalanges. Whatever skeleton monster fingers were called.


“you’re… crazy?”

You nodded. “Yup. Totally. Crazy as a hatter.”

His eyelight restricted to a pinprick, then he dropped his hand and in the next moment he was gone.

Did... did you do it? Did you scare him away for good?

“Why are all the oranges blue??” someone screamed in the sudden silence.

Well. Rome was not built in one day.


You finished the final touches on your special cupcake.

There. Now it was perfect.

Only because you failed the first attempt, it didn’t mean that you were going to give up; you just had to play the crazy card hard enough to make sure that he’d want to avoid you like a supermodel on a vegetarian diet avoids a double cheeseburger. 

It had been four days, and the skeleton had yet to be seen. Usually, he came two times a week, so if he didn’t come even today, it meant that you had already succeeded, but you were far from being that optimist.

Sure enough, he came right at the end of your shift.

“Knock knock” you said before he could.

He paused for a moment, but then humored you.

“who’s there?”

“Pre sentfor.”

“pre sentfor who?”

“Present for you.”

He deadpanned you.

The fricking skeleton with the permanent smile on his face deadpanned you.

“that was terrible.”

Screw him, you worked hard on thinking that one. It was perfect.

“That was a pun. It’s meant to be terrible.”

“don’t be a sore loser and face the truth, cashier girl: you couldn’t pun to save your life. so, what present?”

Now was the moment.

Crazy card. Hard. Vegetarian. Cheeseburger.

You handed him your special cupcake with your best (fake) smile.

Everyone else was too far away to see anything but an innocent cute pastry, but he was near enough to notice without fail what was sticking out of it: a nail, two razor blades, a needle.

He could either refuse politely and go away thinking how much of a nut job you were, or he could attack you for trying to kill him again and get banned from the store.

Either way he went with his reaction, you were an absolute geni…





He… he was eating it?!?

You stared at him in stunned silence while he ate the cupcake of death and everything inside it like there was nothing wrong with it or the world in general.

Next, you searched his body language for signs of impending death. A stomachache. A blade stuck between his teeth. Anything.

You only found a grinning monster. Pearly white teeth, stomach (did he even have one?) in perfect conditions, and pretty much alive.

“Did you like it?” you asked at last, not knowing what else to say that wasn’t a variant of what the fuck, dude.

“thanks, kid. that was really sweet of you.”

The pun totally flew over your head.

“You’re… welcome, sir?”

“you know, i never was comfortable being called “sir”. it’s just not me. i’m sans. sans the skeleton.” He offered you his hand.

You stared at it like it was an alien white bony thing mocking you. Oh, wait. It was.

Was the guy you risked more or less intentionally to kill twice while trying to spook him away from your life suggesting that he wanted to be on a first name basis with you? Yes, yes he was.

Was that a buzzer on his hand?

Yes. Yes it was.   

Was he trying to intimidate you? Too bad for him. There was always a child that never learned that fire burns and forks should never be shoved into sockets, and you were that child.

You took it anyway.

You didn’t react while a painful shock traveled up your arm, and you couldn’t tell if Sans was disappointed or happy with you.

Hard to tell when all you had to work with was an unhinged smile.

You didn’t bother telling him your name since it was on the tag on your work uniform and he never used it. You had a feeling you were and would always be “cashier girl” to him.

That day marked the beginning of a new era for you.

The “this is gonna blow up in my face and I don’t know it yet” era.

Chapter Text


It was a lovely day outside. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and flowers were dying because it was fricking autumn and that’s what they were supposed to do.

You just wished someone would take their example and shrivel out of your life.

But Sans the Skeleton was not a flower and herbicide didn’t work on him.

You knew that for sure, you already tried.

For the past weeks you tried putting almost everything that you could think of in the snacks and drinks you offered him, from glue to soap to concrete, until you had to accept the fact that he was apparently able to digest everything that entered his mouth. 

What was puzzling was the fact that he always accepted your “gifts” and kept coming for more. You never made him eat or drink them, you just offered something and he always accepted it without hesitation. He even thanked you every time.

At some point you wondered if he was even aware of the fact that you were trying to hurt him with your cooking from hell, but you quickly dismissed that idea. Of course he knew, he was just screwing with you, rubbing in your face the futility of your attempts.

You needed to change tactics.

That was why you were at the park, walking on the grass and dodging dogs and children.

Okay, you were barreling on at a brisk pace and they were dodging you, but the result was the same.

You were headed towards a hot dog stand, not because you wanted one (you kinda did), but because you knew that Sans in certain days worked there. You knew that not because you were a stalker (you kinda were), but because he told you.

Sure enough, he was there, sleeping with his face planted on the stand. A bird was perched on top of his skull, and a squirrel was sniffing at the crumbs scattered all around the sleeping bag of bones.

Then the squirrel got even more curious and next thing you knew, it jumped inside Sans’ skull through the giant crack.

The effect was immediate: Sans shot up abruptly, exclaiming a series of profanities while he tried to get it out.

You watched his attempts with mild curiosity, wondering what that felt like.  

After a few moments, the squirrel crawled out of Sans’ empty eye socket and ran to the nearest tree.

“That looked uncomfortable.”

Sans focused his attention on you. “ya think so, kid?”

“Yes. You should probably use something to close that crack, you know?”

You walked closer to the stand, noticing that it was the first time that you and Sans were standing up next to each other and that he was actually shorter than you.

“i’m not duct taping my head.”

“That sounds unsanitary. But then also does a squirrel in your skull.”

“are you here for a hot dog or for playing doctor, cashier girl?” asked Sans, drumming his fingers on the stand.

You stifled the impulse to slam your hand on his hard enough to break a bone or two.

“Actually, I’m here for you.”

That stopped his drumming.

“for me?”


You held up a pen and a sketchbook. “You see, I’m taking notes about a little project of mine, and I’d like to have a second opinion on certain things, but I couldn’t do it at work. So, can I ask you a few questions?”

Sans sat back down. “sure. shoot.”

Oooh, you can bet your bony ass on it.

“Okay. So, if you were to kidnap someone, would you keep them in the basement or in a shed in the woods?”  you asked cheerfully.

There, that would surely give him pause.

Your new plan was simple: ask him a very long list of disturbing and suspicious questions, possibly invading his personal space and giving no indication of why you wanted to know these things. That was surely going to creep him out and make him realize that he needed to stay away from you.

Sans replied without hesitation though.

“that depends if you want to torture them or not. the screams can get pretty loud.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “But the place can be soundproofed.”

“yep, and then ya have a professional ready to point the police your way because right before the poor sap went missing you had your basement soundproofed by him. unless you do it yourself with foam and egg cartons and receive a morning visit by your neighbors because they heard a pig shriek from your place.”

You dutifully took notes.

The next things on your list were if knives were better than saws, if he thought that pulling teeth out was a valid way of persuasion, and if it was better major pain all at once or small pains protracted over a long time.

He answered all of them, and before you knew it, you were actually eager to know his answers so you could confront your opinions.

“now it’s my turn to ask you something, cashier girl.”

You looked up from your list. At some point, you ended up sitting on the stand with your legs crossed, while he had his head propped on his hand and his elbow next to your knee.

Had he reached his limit? Was he going to ask you why you were interested in these creepy things? If you were asking because you wanted to do them? If you were out of your mind? If he should call the police?

“Sure, what is it?”

Yes yes yes, you knew that this plan was gonna work!

“ketchup or mustard?”

… what?

“What?” you echoed your thoughts out loud.

 “on your hot dog. ketchup or mustard?”

You stared at him for maybe a whole five minutes, feeling your happy bubble slowly emptying itself like an old sad balloon after an intimate encounter with a porcupine.

He waited patiently while you had your existential crisis on top of his stand.

Finally, you accepted your failure as a possessor of amazing planning skills and at life in general, and sighed.

Welp, at least you would gain a hot dog out of this failure.

“Actually, I’d prefer mayonnaise.”

He raised his head from his palm, running his eyelight up and down your form with what almost seemed like… disgust?

“i’m judging you.”

Oh, come on! Literal weeks of feeding him dangerous garbage and what finally got a negative reaction out of him was fucking mayonnaise?!?

“Bite me. I love mayonnaise. I would marry it if it was legal. So make sure to pour a big, fat and dripping helping of it all over my hot dog. You will not get between us in our love story.”

He chuckled, reaching under the stand. “don’t mind if I do.”

You hopped down, wondering what he meant.

To be sure, you made things clear. “Nope. Not a chance. The hot dog is mine.”

“ah yes, there’s also that.”

And what was that supposed to mean?

While he busied himself with your order, you looked around, noticing for the first time how empty this little corner of the park really was; it was like Sans’ stand was the epicenter of a “don’t enter this zone, there’s plague” bubble that extended itself on a radius of several meters. All around it, there were life, joy and several snot-nosed brats with drooling dogs, while inside of it there was you. That was it. You. And Sans. Why were trees not rotting already?

“Do you even get any customers at all? Maybe you should try in a place with less children and protective parents.”

“jeez kid, don’t be so shy with your words, don’t be afraid to hurt your pal’s feelings.”

“You don’t sound like I hurt your feelings.”

“that’s because you didn’t. you really are sarcasm deaf, are you?”

“I can hear the change in tone when someone uses it, but I don’t really understand it most of the time. It comes with all the “being crazy” package. So, why do you stay here?”

“it’s a good place to take naps, without the traffic’s noise and all that. plus, there’s plenty of homeless people and they don’t mind that i’m a monster.”

“But they don’t pay you, do they?”

“yep. i don’t care. they’re hungry and i’ve got unsold ‘dogs that protective parents won’t buy for their children.”

“Maybe if you closed that crack…”

“i already told ya i won’t. here, take your satan’s blood-soaked hot dog, cashier girl.”

You reached to take it, but he dodged your hand to place the hot dog… on your head.

Aaaand you were back to the pranks.

That was what you deserved for lowering your guard.

Buuut, this time was different. This time, you were not at work, your plan had already failed and he just played a prank on you.

You grabbed your pen and without even realizing it aimed at his hand on the wooden surface of the stand.


You… missed.

Or, well, he shifted his hand to the left before you could stab it.

You tried again.


He shifted it again at the last moment.









Your pen broke in half, with the point firmly stuck in the wood.

“well kid, i’ll take a stab in the dark and say that you have bone to pick with my stand. don’t bottle up your frustration like this, let it out sometimes.”

You pocketed the half that remained of your ruined pen.

“You’re good at dodging for someone with no depth perception.”

“you’re good at balancing that ‘dog on your head while on a stabbing frenzy.”

Oh, you kinda forgot it was still there.

You grabbed it and took a bite; your taste buds informed you immediately that this wasn’t a hot dog at all. You kept eating it.

“What did you put in this?” you asked around a bite.

“i told ya. it’s a dog.”

You kept eating.

“Dog meat sounds like a pain to procure and use only to give away hot dogs for free to homeless people.”

“not if i use it to lure them.”

“For what?”

“for making other ‘dogs. or should I call them ‘people?”

You kept eating.

“So is this a hot dog or a hot person?”


“To what?”

“to both.”

“There’s both dog and person?”

“yep. there’s a hot dog and a hot person in front of me right now.”   

You kept eating.

“This doesn’t taste like meat at all.”

Sans chuckled.

“just kidding, cashier girl. it’s a plant called water sausage.”

You paused before your next bite.

“So… you’re saying that this is a vegetarian hot dog?”


You lowered it. “You can’t promise me meat and then feed me a plant. What the hell, dude!”

“that’s what finally bothers you?”

“I can’t believe I paid for this!”

“you didn’t.”

“That’s false advertisement! I hope that an entire family of squirrels makes a nest inside your unduct-taped head!” you declared before putting down what remained of your hot plant and stomping away full of indignation, followed by Sans’ low chuckles.

Behind you, he took the uneaten piece and finished it in a single bite.


Chapter Text


It was clear since the very moment you woke up that it was going to be a horrible day.

First, you woke up in a pool of blood. Period blood.

Okay, it was not really a pool, but it was enough to have already stained your panties, pajama pants, and bedsheet.

Mumbling curses, you stripped and dumped everything in a basin filled with cold water.

Next, you hunted inside your medicine cabinet, searching for a pain killer for the cramps. Of course you were all out because you were a forgetting idiot and the fact that you needed them every four weeks or so kept slipping out of your head.

Same thing for tampons.

So you exited your house in a hurry, pale as a sheet, with dark circles under your eyes, slightly bent forward because of cramps and with your panties filled with paper towels.

The pharmacy where you usually went at the last moment to remedy your idiocy was closed. Of course it was closed.

The search for another one took you long enough to make you late for work, where you arrived running like a maniac and closing yourself immediately in the bathroom.

One of your coworkers called in sick, so there were only two of you that morning. It was also the day when your suppliers brought new provisions, so your shift consisted of running and hopping between the cash register and the shelves like a kangaroo under cocaine.

It was also a Sans day because of course it was, but he usually arrived in the later hours of your shift, so at least for a bit longer you would be spared that torture.

It was hours before you had the first real quiet moment, when there were only two customers and you had almost finished putting everything in its correct place on the shelves. It was also time to change your tampon, so it was the perfect moment for everything to go to hell in a handbasket. Like, for example, standing up from your seat with the bathroom in your mind and finding yourself staring at the business end of a gun.

“Everybody down! This is a robbery and I’m not joking!”

Your coworker and the other costumer dropped down with a cry.

“You too, chick! This is not a toy!”

You stared at the gun pointed at you. Of course this would be robbery day.

“You know that there are cameras here, right?” you said pointing at one of them.

“And I’m wearing a hood, stupid bitch. Now get down!”

“But we saw your face. You are the stupid one.”

“Shut up and do as he says, for the love of god!” begged your coworker from the floor.

You pondered your options. The guy was sweating and his hands were trembling, so you didn’t think he would intentionally shoot you. This fucker came in with robbery in mind, not murder. Still, he could always shoot you by accident, so probably trying to grab his gun was a bad idea.

“well well well, it never gets boring around here, does it?”

That caught you by surprise, and that was the only reason why you were too slow and in the next moment found yourself with a robber behind your back, an arm around your throat and a gun pointed at your temple.

“How the fuck did you get in here, freak? Stay away or I’ll blow her brain up!”

Sans, who had appeared out of nowhere, shrugged, shifting his eyelight from the gun to your face.

“that would be bad, right cashier girl?”

“I don’t know, we could be cracked skull buddies.”

“’i’m not sure i’d like to be buddies with a gross human with brains splattered everywhere.”

“You’re just jealous because the bullet would exit from the other side and I’d have two cracks instead of a lousy one like you.”

“SHUT UP! BOTH OF YOU!” screamed the son of a bitch right in your ear, pressing the barrel harder on your temple.

You sighed, annoyed. That was going to bruise.

“Now, you skeleton trash, disappear the same way you came in. I just want the cash, so no one has to get hurt.”

Sans inclined his head. “funny thing to say with a gun pointed at someone, pal.”

“He’s not going to shoot” you said rolling your eyes.

Slowly, Sans lifted his left hand, and the robber took a step backward, taking you with him.

“You know what? F-fuck this! I’m out of here. if I’d known a monster was gonna show up…”

He started backing towards the exit.

“Hey dickhead, I’m not a souvenir, if you’re chickening out let me go!”

“wait a minute, pal.”

You both stopped on your tracks. Sans’ eyelight was no longer on your face, but it was pointed downward. It was like he was looking at…

“why is there blood on your pants, cashier girl? are you wounded?”



Fuck no.

Was this shitty day ever going to end?

Behind you, the robber began laughing nervously. “Oh my god, this is just not your day, chick!”

“Fucking tell me something I don’t know.”   

“What shit luck, taken hostage and during your period too!”

“what’s a period?”

“Can we not talk about my bodily fluids right now? Or ever?”

“Just, just go, chick. This was a shit day for everyone, go out with your freak boyfriend and make yourself sweet cocoa or what is it that you women do in these days. Bye!”

With that, he shoved you hard and sprinted out of the supermarket.

Son of a…

“Oh no you don’t! COME BACK HERE, YOU SON OF A BITCH!” you screamed running after him.

You lost him after five blocks.

Motherfucker was fast and you were not in your top condition to begin with.  

Breathing hard, you were about to head back when you heard the noise of something heavy falling down from a back alley. Was he hiding in there? Looking down, you spotted an empty bottle on the ground, so you picked it up.

You approached the corner slowly and peeking around it, you confirmed that indeed it was the chickenshit next to a fallen garbage can with his back turned to you. Taking aim, you threw the bottle at him, hitting him square in the head.

He fell down like a sack of potatoes.

Now, what to do with him…

Your phone started ringing in your pocket. It was your coworker.


“W-where are you? Are you crazy running after an armed man? I called the police already, come back he…!”

You hung up.

Fuck, she called the cops. Now they were gonna question you for hours.

“Guess I have to bring this sack of shit back, then.”

“need a hand?”

Startled, you turned around, only to find Sans casually leaning against the wall.

You looked from him to the fallen robber. He looked pretty heavy.

“I guess.”

“good. you can find it at the end of your arm.”

“You mean like this?” you asked showing him your middle finger.


“Bite me.”

“left my ketchup at home.”

Rolling your eyes, you walked toward the unconscious man.

What a stupid face.

“Next time try robbing a chicken coop” you said kicking him.

“I don’t kill you only because I hope you’ll be cellmates with a professional wrestler named Mr. Oh-my-god-fresh-meat-let-me-put-my-special-occasion-underwear.”

You kicked him again.

“That’s right, that’s gonna be his name. And you’re gonna be his teddybear.”


“Enjoy your new life, asshole!” you said with a final kick.

Then you crouched down and picked up his legs. You started walking backward, dragging him, but by the time you made it to where Sans was, you were sweating bullets. The grinning fucker was watching you with crossed arms, maybe waiting for the next Advent of Jesus or something.

“you know what the thief said to the cop?”

“Up yours.”

“what is it, cashier girl? am i robbing ya of your patience?”

“I’m going to kill you tonight.”

“welp, you sure know how to kill the mood.”

“I’m also going to bring your skull to the park and make sure that the squirrels have a nice cozy nest for the winter.”

“tell me, did it hurt?”


“when you fell.”

“What are youuuu-fuck!” you said falling on your ass after stumbling on another empty bottle.

Sans started laughing.

You stood up and dusted your backside. “That’s it! I’m out! Bring the motherfucker back by yourself, or leave him here, I don’t fucking care!”

You stomped out of the alley, followed by Sans’ laughter.

Fuck this fucking day!


As you thought, it took hours before everything was sorted out. The police questioned everyone, took the camera recordings and finally arrested the robber after they found him in the alley with Sans asleep sitting on him.

When you were finally able to leave it was already dark outside, and you were ready to reach your home and faceplant on your bed without even changing.

Fuck, now that you thought of it, you had to scrape your page and start again on a new one in your “days since the last time” diary.

Also, before you did any of that, you had to figure out how to deal with your current shadow.

You looked at Sans in frustration while he lazily walked beside you on the way back to your apartment.

“Is there a reason why you are even here?”

He suddenly stopped.

“actually, yes.”

You stopped as well, puzzled. He seemed strangely serious, or, well, as serious as someone with a permanent grin on his face was going to be.

“tell me, cashier girl…”

His red eyelight was staring at your face with an intensity that was starting to get strange.

 “… what is a period?”

 You blinked.




“You… you…”


“I can’t believe I’m still here listening to your shit!”


“Ehi, sorry! Can I ask you a question?” said a voice behind you.

You turned around, glad for the excuse to stop looking at Sans’ stupid face.

It was a girl of roughly your age, with a smile on her face and her hands behind her back.


“I heard that today there was a robbery at the supermarket at the end of the street and that the robber was arrested, is that true?”

You shrugged. “Yes, I work there. He tried to escape but I ran after him.”

Her smile got wider, and she pulled her hands from behind her back.

For the second time in a day, you were left staring at a gun.

“Good. I’d hate to get the wrong person.”



Chapter Text


You felt like you were floating.

You were light, light as a feather, and all around you there were clouds and birds.

Fuck you were high.

Did you go out drinking last night?

Did someone put some strange pill in your drink?

Had you beaten them to a bloody pulp and then fallen asleep under a bench somewhere?

While you were pondering if you should open your eyes or go back to sleep, hushed  voices floated your way.

“… still asleep?”

“… highly sedated… violent…”

“… mental condition… little inhibition… good girl…”

You went back to sleep.

Next time you woke up, you were more coherent.


You were in a hospital bed, needles were taped to your arm, the other one was in plaster from the elbow to the hand, and from what you could feel you had bandages around your head too.

Also, Sans was napping with his face on your stomach.

Did he always sleep on his face like that?

Didn’t he need to breath?

Oooooh wait. Skeleton. Right.



“Sans. Wake up.”

No answer.

“Sans. There’s an army of squirrels, they’re coming for you.”

He abruptly sat up on his chair, scanning the room with an alarmed expression.

Having confirmed its squirrellessness, he finally shifted his eyelight to you.

“that was a rude way to wake a guy up.”

“Sleeping on someone is rude, and I feel high. Why am I high?”

“doc went heavy on you with painkillers and sedatives. are you hungry?”


There were a water bottle and a plastic cup beside your bed, but before you could reach for them Sans had already picked them up.

You expected him to open the bottle and give you the cup filled with water, but after lifting the head section of the bed so you wouldn’t risk chocking, he insisted on helping you drink.

You still felt weak and strangely detached, so you let him.

Next, he adjusted your covers, straightening them and making sure you weren’t cold.

Why was he fussing so much over you? Was he high too?

Before you could ask him, a nurse entered the room.

She hesitated at the door, looking at Sans, but then sighed and shifted her attention to you.

She checked your vitals (all normal), asked you how you were feeling (drugged) and if you were in pain (nope).

Then she told you that when you were feeling better a police officer would come in and ask you a few questions about the attack.

After that she exited the room, shooting a disapproving look at Sans, who had been looming behind her for the entire time.

Only then your tired brain produced the first intelligent question of the day. “Why am I here?”

“you don’t remember?”

You tried concentrating, but your thoughts were sluggish.

“I remember the robbery. Then the police came. And then… I went home. No, wait, you were following me and then...”

You paused.

You remembered a loud noise and a burning pain in your arm, and then on your head.

“Was I shot? Is that why the police wants to talk to me again?”

“yep. it was dark and apparently, no one saw what happened, so they still don’t know who did it.”

You looked at him in confusion.

“What do you mean? It was that girl, you saw her.”

“there was no girl.”

“Yes there was. I saw her. And so did you.”

Sans leaned towards you.

“i said”, he repeated slowly, “there was no girl.”

You inclined your head.

And then poked him on the forehead. “You’re strange.” You giggled.

“and you’re high.”

“That I am. Come on, tell me I’m not crazy and you saw her.”

“oh, i sawed her all right. and you are crazy.”

“Ruuude. So she shot me in the arm?”

“actually, the bullet just grazed you.”

“Then why did I faint?”

“because an old lady on a balcony was startled by the gunshot and dropped a potted plant on your head.”

“Is that why my arm is broken?”

“nope, that’s because before losing consciousness you wandered in the street and a car hit you.”


Well, that was lame.

You looked at your injured arm, noticing for the first time the big square band-aid thingie on the shoulder.

“Is that where she shot me?”


“I never saw a bullet wound” you said lifting your hand and peeling the protective layer off.

You looked at the wound in wonder for a bit. Then you poked and prodded it with a finger.

“This is so cool” you said giggling. “Hey Sans, do you wanna touch it?”

“that’s not really what i wanna touch, cashier girl.”

“You’re no fun. Why did she shoot me? I don’t get it.”

“she was the robber’s girlfriend and was outside acting as the lookout. she wanted revenge.”

 You yawned. “You’re talking about her in the past tense, Sans.”

“am i?”

“Yes, silly. Did she try to shoot you too?”

“no. worried?”

“I’m trying to understand why you got angry.”

He put a finger under your chin, using it to turn your eyes from your current prodding of the bullet wound to his face.

“you really can’t imagine why?”

“I was the one shot, so it makes sense for me to be angry. Only I can’t because I’m sedated. Your bones are so white. Do you bleach them?”

Something strange happened to Sans’ skull: the same whiteness you commented on slowly became tinted by a light blue, and he averted his eyelight.

 “that’s my natural color. do you... like it?”

Curious, you poked his cheekbone. It was warm.

“White is a pretty color for bones. I guess that yellowish bones would look unhealthy and a bit gross. Like teeth, you know.” 

He chuckled, sounding nervous. “thanks. your bones are a pretty white too.”

“How do you know that?”

“your bullet wound. you can see the bone inside of it.”

“Oh. You sure you don’t wanna poke it?”


That day Sans was promptly banned from visiting you by the hospital staff, your shoulder was bandaged again after a throughout cleaning and disinfecting and your other hand was tied to the side rail.


By the time the next visiting hour arrived, you had sobered up considerably.

That meant that you were really starting to feel the pain from your various injuries and that when you saw that your next visitors were your parents, you felt relieved that Sans was sticking to the ban.

They explained that they had already visited while you were still asleep, and were already informed of what happened.

“How did you know where I was?”

“You skipped your weekly phone call yesterday evening, sweetie, so we got worried and called you, your friend picked up and told us what happened and where to find you.”

Your… friend.

Wait, were they talking about Sans?

Sans talked to your parents?

“It was a bit shocking meeting him in person” said your father while eating the leftovers of your dinner. “Does he always stare so much? And, you know… shouldn’t he close that crack with something? It looks painful.”

Sans met your parents?

“Of course we wouldn’t care if he had three heads and octopus legs, honey” said your mother sternly. Your father nodded vigorously. “Right! We love you, sweetpea. You can be friends with whoever you want.”

“I tried to kill him” you blurted out.

Your father paused with a forkful halfway to his mouth, and your mother went rigid on the chair beside your bed.

You could see the wheels turning in their heads.

“Did he try to hurt you?” asked your mother.

“Is he a stalker?” asked your father.

Bless their hearts, they always tried to go against what common sense would dictate and avoided to assume the worst of you until proven wrong.

They were so cool.

And so wrong.

“No, he just loves pranks. He’s annoying.”    

 Your mother facepalmed.

“Did you hurt him? Is he going to file a report against you? Has he already done it?”

“Dear, I don’t think he would visit her at the hospital if that was the case” said your father.

“Is he blackmailing you?” pressed on your mother.

“No, none of those things. I tried, I didn’t succeed, he never said anything about it. He’s just a client at the supermarket and happened to be with me when I was shot. That’s all.”

“Are you going to keep on doing it?”

You… didn’t know.

“Sweetie… is he your friend?” asked your father. “He acted like he was. He was worried about you and cared enough to inform us and stay with you while we had to work today. Can we trust him?”

You thought about it.

“He never hurt me.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

You looked from one to the other. “He’s probably going to annoy me to death with his pranks and jokes. But he got angry when I was shot. With the person that shot me, I mean.”

“That’s a good thing, it means that he cares.”

“Why would he care though?”

“Why don’t you ask him, sweetie?” asked your father encouragingly. “Maybe he just wants to be your friend. Why don’t you give him a chance, if he turns out to be a good guy?”

“… I’ll think about it.”

“Good! Now, why don’t you tell us all about how you managed to get hit by a bullet, a pot and a car in only a minute?”


Chapter Text


Your home was as bad as you thought it would be: there was dust, there was the typical odor of a place that had remained closed for days, there was the old garbage to take out, there was your diary to update, there were…

“well, this is a surprise. aren’t crazy women supposed to live with a bunch of cats or something like that?”

Yep. There was also Sans, who had followed you home.

For some reason he insisted on going grocery shopping for you the minute you were out of the hospital and now he was carrying bags filled with enough food to keep a small village going through a hard and unforgiving winter.

You weren’t sure what to make of him, to be honest.

When the police officer questioned you about the shooting, you were tempted to tell the truth. Sure, you didn’t see Sans taking the girl away to do to her whatever it was he did later, but you did see her shooting you. If you revealed that, Sans would be in big troubles, considering that he told the police that he didn’t see anyone.

If he was arrested, he wouldn’t bother you anymore.

It was tempting.


You promised your parents that you would think about becoming friends with him, and you couldn’t do that if he was locked away in a dark cell.

So, you lied. Nope, it was too dark and you didn’t see anyone, you were talking with your buddy Sans and then BANG! Some unknown dickhead shot you and ran away.

There, you did a good deed.

Covering someone about kidnapping, torture and maybe murder was something a possible future friend would do, right? Even though he didn’t share and took away revenge from you?

Wait, did he do it to annoy you?

Fortunately your gaze fell on your diary. Right. No revenge. Revenge bad.

Fuck you were so bad at this.

You shook your head and showed him the kitchen so he could put everything away.

“Crazy old women are supposed to live with cats.”

“while crazy young women get to live in greenhouses?”


Fuck! Shit! Fuck!

Your plants! They went days without water!

You hurried towards the sink, using your only working hand to fill the plastic bottle you kept for watering the army of plants you had in your apartment.


While you hopped from one potted plant to the other, Sans made himself at home in your kitchen.

“sooo, you like plants.”

“No I don’t. These fuckers are time-consuming needy bastards. Too little water. Too much water. Too little light. Too much light. Fuck, how are you even a still existing species if you can’t stay alive by yourself?”

“so you keep a pluvial forest in your house. makes sense.”

You refilled the bottle at the sink.

“My mother keeps giving them to me at every occasion that requires a gift because when I was a child my psychiatrist suggested that it would be good for me if I had to care for something on a regular basis. A pet was too much, and I would end up… well, pets make noise, move around, are unpredictable, so it would have not ended well. Plants stay there, are silent, and, unlike a pet store owner, a florist is not going to call plant protection if you keep going back to buy more.”

In your diary you had a section for your plants as well, where you kept track of them all and also marked every time you watered them.

“why does she keep giving you more, though? at this rate you’re not going to be able to put your stuff anywhere, yourself included.”

“She probably thinks that I keep forgetting and letting them die.”

Sans shrugged.

“that could be a solution.”

“Every time she gives one to me, she makes me promise to care for it. So no, it couldn’t.”

Aaand there he went again, spacing out while staring at you.

You were starting to notice the difference between his different types of staring, and right now his single eyelight was wide and kinda unfocused, telling you that he was momentarily lost in his head.

He even started muttering to himself. “probably purple…”

“Sans. Earth to Sans. Don’t lose yourself in the darkness in front of me, it’s creepy. Back away from the light at the end of the tunnel and come back to me” you said snapping your fingers in front of his face.

His eyelight restricted and refocused. “this reminds me of the pet rock I used to have” he said out of the blue.

You blinked.

“A pet rock.”

“yep. i kept forgetting to feed it, but luckily my brother always remembered, or it would have ran away.”

Was he pulling your leg?

“What would you even feed a rock with?”

Sans leaned back against the table. “why, smaller rocks, of course.”

Okay, yes, he was definitely fucking with you.

“So it was a cannibal pet rock?”

He started laughing.

And laughing.

Aaaaand laughing.

Was it because you were not calling him out and he thought you fell for his joke?

Really funny, Sans.

“If you’re finished laughing your ass off you can take it out of here and leave me alone because in case you didn’t notice I have things to do and food to eat and painkillers to take and…”

“i’m cooking” said Sans sobering up instantaneously.

“What about nope?”

“what about yes.”

Your hand itched to grab something and do a lot hella harm, but you took a deep breath and slowly counted to ten.

Your mind chose that moment to replay your father’s words without permission. Maybe he just wants to be your friend, why don’t you give him a chance?

You didn’t particularly want a friend.   

You wanted to be left alone.



“... let’s cook together. Properly. No pranks or you’re going out of this house through the window.” 

“are jokes allowed?”

“If I say no you’re just going to make ones I don’t understand.”

“true enough. roast assured, no pranks while we’re cooking, oil be at my best behavior.”

You were already regretting everything.


Later that day Sans insisted on signing your plaster, so you ended up with the words “i don’t find your jokes humerus because i broke my funny bone” on it. You retaliated by writing “squirrel king” on the back of his skull when he fell asleep on your couch.  He went home completely unaware of what you did, and you were a bit disappointed that you wouldn’t get to see his reaction.



“why not?”


“she’s learning how to prank, bro. let her express herself.”


“ok, got it.”










“you didn’t tell me where.”


“ok bro.”


Chapter Text


“Please please please please please!”


Your coworker, a girl with curly red hair, freckles and a high pitched voice that reminded you of some small animal’s squeak, had cornered you during your lunch break and now was begging you on her knees like she was praying in front of an altar.

Now, you were far from being a benevolent deity and the pain in your still healing arm was making you kinda cranky, so you were not in the mood to accept prayers or ritual sacrifices. “No.”

“You’re my last hope! My salvation! Don’t leave me alone in this deep sea of despair! In my darkest hour! In this menacing forest of doom!”

“I hate children.”

“It doesn’t matter! Really! They’re not allowed on the stage, so they will not get near you!”

She seemed on the verge of tears. While you understood that this Halloween show she organized every year was important to her and it was shit luck that more than half of her usual buddies got knocked out with the flu at the last moment, she was ringing at the wrong door if she thought you were a good option for child entertainment.

The thing was, she wasn’t accepting “no” for an answer, and short of using violence or a crowbar to pry her off your pants, you were short on viable options.

Then an idea so brilliant it was blinding shined on you from above.

“You know what? Okay. I’ll be there, but only if Sans can come too. We were going to spend that day together and I’m not standing him up.”

That was a big fat lie, but you were a genius nonetheless: she was scared of Sans like he was the devil incarnated, so you found the perfect way to rid yourself of her without violence.

You were so rocking this whole “dealing with annoying people without murder” lifestyle!

For a moment she hesitated and it seemed like your genius plan was working, but then she steeled herself and looked at you with a determined gaze. “Yes, absolutely! Bring him too!”


With all the possible moments, why did she have to choose now to grow a spine?

“Thank you! Thank you so much! You’re my savior! I’ll be forever indebted to you! My children and their children are going to always remember your greatness in the years to come, the future generations will spread the word of your magnificence and…”

You grabbed your jacket and covered her face, hoping that, like a parrot or other nerve-wracking birds, that would be enough to silence her.   

She started giggling.

Fuck, it wasn’t!


Later that day, you sent a message to Sans.

- Hey, are you busy the day after tomorrow? -

It took him an hour to respond.

- busy is a strong word. -

- Let me rephrase that: do you have important things to do beside inhaling oxygen and exhaling CO2? -

- you know i don’t breathe, right? -

- Then why do you have a nose? -

- i don’t. -

- A nose hole. Whatever it’s called. -

- it’s for scenting. -

- Why are we even talking about this? -

- it’s not my fault you’re curious about my holes. -

- I’m not. I want to know if you’re free the day after tomorrow. -

- first you asked if i’m busy, now if i’m free. pick one. -

- I’m going to pick my teeth with your bones. -

- kinky. -

- I hate you. -

- no you don’t. -

- You can bet your ass that I do. -

- don’t have an ass either. -

You threw your phone on the ground and stomped to the kitchen to make yourself a hot tea. That was supposed to calm you, right?

Fuck him I’m going to murder him in his sleep!

Or not.

After your not at all calming tea, you picked your phone back up.

Sans had sent you more messages in the meantime.

- cashier girl? -

- are you still there? -

- … -

- don’t give me the cold shoulder. -

- said the cannibal to his girlfriend. -

You stared at your phone. Cannibal… cold shulder…



Oh god.



- This is so dumb!!! -

- did you… actually get it? -

- Yes and I wish I didn’t! Why is it funny? How?? -

- are you laughing? -

- NO I’M NOT -

Sans took more time answering, and in the meantime, you got your laughter under control.

- i was digging in the garden when i found a chest full of gold coins. -

- i was about to run straight home to tell my girlfriend about it, but then i remembered why i was digging in our garden. -

- Please stop. -

- my grandfather says I’m too reliant on technology. -

- No more! -

- i called him a hypocrite and unplugged his life support. -

You collapsed on the couch, howling with laughter.

D-damn him!

It was the first time someone made you laugh so much! How were you going to face him now, knowing that he discovered your weak point?

Wait, first you still had to tell him about the show.

- Enough! The day after tomorrow it’s Halloween and my coworker asked me to participate at her show for kids she always does at the park. It’s just a bunch of people in costumes telling jokes and doing little acts or whatever. You’re coming with me because you lost the right to have anything else to do when you refused to answer my question. -

- yes ma’am. -

- Good. -

- sooo, do you know what the cannibal says to the leper? -



Two days later, at the park, you were going through an existential crisis.

So. Many. Children.

Children everywhere.

Children on the grass, children under the trees, children on the trees.

The parents were relegated to the edges of the big devil’s spawn infested area, on the epicenter of which there was the wooden stage that was meant to be your only defense against the horde of little demonic creatures.

Your coworker, dressed as a witch, spotted you in the sea of evil gnomes and headed promptly your way, dodging with nonchalance grabbing hands and criers in search of their mom.

Her step faltered only slightly when she noticed Sans standing beside you, giving you a last ray of hope that she would give up on her plans and set you free, but then she kept walking.


“I’m so happy you are both here! You really are life saviors, thank you so much! And look at your costumes! They are so… costume like!”

That they were.

Sans was wearing his usual hoodie, only it was tattered and had red stains all over it, and he was carrying a big cleaver in his left hand. You decided to go as a zombie, so you took old clothes and roughed them up, then you used makeup to make your face look gray and you splattered your face with blood.

The others were all dressed in soft variations of vampire, mummy, and witch, and you asked yourself if you two went overboard with the realism.

Many children were looking at you with big eyes.

Nope, totally nailed it.

Squeak voice girl explained what was expected from you, which was getting on the stage and give candy to the children that answered the questions she gave you on a paper sheet that looked like old parchment. You looked at them and found what you expected, which was dumb questions like: “What’s the name of the monster that becomes a wolf on the nights of a full moon?”

Fuck, please someone kill me now.

Waiting for your turn was torture, but you and Sans found a spot to sit on the grass behind the stage.

Sans immediately closed his eyes, but you shook him awake. If you were going to sit through this torment, so was he. “Don’t you dare nap, or I’m sticking twigs in your skull.”

He yawned and slumped his head on your shoulder. “this is boring. we’ve got at least another half hour to kill before we have to get up, let me sleep.”

“Nope. Let’s play a game.”

“what game?”

“Mmmmh, what about ‘top three things I hate in the world’?”

“is that even a game?”

“It is now.”

Also, if you wanted to do this whole friendship thing right, you had to know things about Sans, right?

“Okay, let’s start! My number three is children.”

“mine is playing games when i want to nap.”

“Number two is pranks.”

“ouch. i guess mine is mayonnaise.”

You put your good arm around your knees, looking towards the stage without really seeing it.

“Number one is… not understanding. It’s frustrating.”

“number one is fish.”

“Fish? Really?”

“yep. don’t ask.”

You weren’t going to.

“Okay, now ‘top three things I love’. My number three is cooking.”

“mine is eating.”

“Number two is mayonnaise.”

“mine is pranks.”

“Number one is my parents.”

“number one is my brother.” 

You stretched your legs. “How much time has passed?”

“don’t know, five minutes?”


Sans lifted his head from your shoulder. “are you cold?”

“Nope. Are you?”

“n… yes. yes, i’m feeling it down to my bones.”

You rolled your eyes at the pun, but then shrugged. It was a warm evening for you, but what did you know about monster biology? Perhaps it was already too cold for him.

You couldn’t give him any of your clothes because you had only a sweater over your bra, so you scooted behind him and wrapped your arms around his chest, being careful of your cast, and put your chin on his skull.

It was way more physical contact that you were used to having outside of a bedroom, but you had to do things properly: friends helped each other and he was here because you asked him, so you were kinda in his debt.

You were probably doing something right because he relaxed completely in your arms.


“yep. you’re warm.”

“And you’re bony.”

“eh. i’m a skeleton.”

“Sans… are you purring?”

“… nope?”


When it was your turn, you found yourself on a stage with many many many tiny faces staring at you. It was alright, you just had to ask the stupid questions and throw candies at them. You could do this.

In the end, it was Sans that did all the hard work: he took the paper, crumpled it up and swallowed it. Rows and rows of children stared at him in silence. Then he reached inside the crack in his skull and took it out of there.

You opened your arms in a “ta-dah!” motion. 

Everyone started laughing and eeewing.

Sans kept doing tricks and telling poop jokes while children laughed with tears in their eyes and you threw candies at random.

All in all, it went quite well, and you two exited the stage between applauses (that in your specific case were completely not earned).

Your coworker sent you a thumbs up, followed by kisses and strange little jumps where she stood.


“You’re good with children” you said while you and Sans made your way out of the park.

“they’re usually easy to amuse, contrarily to some adults i know.”

“Maybe now you’ll have more customers at your hot plant stand.”

“i sure hope so. more ingredients for me.”

You tried to suppress your smile.

You didn’t succeed.

“That’s not funny.”


Quick, you had to change the subject!

“Are you still cold?”

“if i say yes, are you going to pick me up bridal style?”

“I was thinking more like a sack of potatoes.”

“seems comfy.”

“Now that I think about it if I do that you’re just going to fall asleep. Here, give me your hands.”

You stopped in front of him and took his hands with your only working one, then closed your fingers around his and began warming them with your breath.

“… what are you doing?”

“This is one of the perks of breathing; my parents always did it to me when my hands got cold during winter.”     

You noticed that Sans’ skull gained again that strange light blue color.

“Why do your bones change color like that?”

“… magic.”

“I didn’t ask how, I asked why.”

 “that’s not fair, why should i answer your questions when you won’t answer mine?”

“What are you talking about?”

His fingers disentangled themselves from your grasp and he closed his hands around yours.

“tell me…”

You blinked. “What?”

“… what is a period?”

This… this… this…

You screeched internally while you tried yanking your hand away, but his grip was strong.

“I fucking hate you so much!”

“bet you don’t.”

“Bet I do!”

“bet you don’t know what’s yellow and can’t swim.”

Oh no, oh fuck!


“a bus full of children.”

Had… to… resist…

You burst out laughing like the pathetic loser you were, collapsing on your knees still with your hand in Sans’ grip.

“you ok there, buddy?”

You tried answering between your wheezing laughter. “Still…hate…you…”

“sure you do, kiddo. sure you do.”  


Chapter Text


This is the story of how Sans the Skeleton, former Royal Judge, retired Butcher of Snowdin, fulltime loving older brother and local friendly psycho found out that ketchup wasn’t the love of his life, after all.

It began all with a cupcake.

Not any cupcake. A prank cupcake.

Food and prank all rolled in one small, cute, chocolate decorated declaration of interest.

The person giving him said cupcake was surprisingly a human.

Now, humans were very strange and funny creatures.

First of all, monsters came in all colors, sizes, and shapes, while humans looked all the same, like Temmies. Sure, if you squinted you could see little differences like skin, hair, and eye color or the fact that some humans were slightly taller than others, but that aside, they were almost impossible to tell apart by physical appearance alone.

Secondly, they were supposed to have very strong souls, but apparently that didn’t translate in strong hearts, considering how they usually reacted when seeing a monster, which was with the Sacred Trilogy of Human Welcome: Gape, Tremble and Run.

Finally, pranking them was so incredibly hilarious.    

His magic was not the same as before thanks to his skull injury (thanks a lot, Undyne), but he had enough for playing pranks in many of his favorite places, like the supermarket.

There, not only there was so much food, but also one of the few humans that didn’t abide by the Sacred Trilogy of Human Welcome: cashier girl.

To be honest, it had taken him a while to get used to humans enough to actually understand that cashier girl was, well, a girl, as in a female young adult, so at first, he referred to her as “cashier person”. What mattered to him was the fact that she was clearly annoyed by his pranks and she wasn’t scared of him, so he got curious and looked a bit deeper inside, like he did automatically with all the humans that caught his attention; it was one of the remnants of the good old judging days.

And what a judging he ended up doing! She had a very, very, very high LV.

Serial murderer high LV.

Someone had been a very naughty human indeed.

Oh well, after all he had done, who was he to judge (eh eh, judge)?

If she stayed a good cashier girl and didn’t bother him, he had no reason to harm her only because she probably had an entire squad of skeletons in her closet, in her basement, and under her bed too.

Would she put up a good fight –

No, no and nope. Bad Sans. Very bad Sans.

Pranks and jokes, not cleavers and basements. That was the new rule.

So, the weeks came and went with cashier girl being annoyed, but quiet and polite.

Until she wasn’t anymore.

Sans didn’t know what he expected when he confronted her about her “stalking him with murder on her mind” stunt of the previous night.

Oh wait, he did: denial, anger, begging, tears.

“i wanted to see if ya got the guts to do it.”

“And what would have you done if I did?”

“i’d have killed you. eventually.”

There. Let it sink. Aaaand scared and trembling little human in three, two, one…


Absolutely nothing.

No external sign of fear, no twitch, her expression didn’t change and her heartbeat stayed relaxed.

That was… weird.

You could lie and train yourself to not show your emotions, but the heartbeat was almost impossible to control. For those who had a heart, at least.

He inclined his head.

Maybe she didn’t understand the situation she was in?

“your heartbeat never really changes, does it? are you brave, or are you stupid?”

She shrugged.


“Sooo, do you want to buy anything or…”

Oh no, she didn’t get to change the subject like that.

“are you going to do it again?”

For the second time in a row, she didn’t react as he expected: she simply smiled and said something that he really wasn’t prepared to hear: “Of course I’m going to do it again! I can’t really help myself, you know? I’m crazy, in case you didn’t notice.”


She was crazy?

Like him?

But… she didn’t have a head injury.

Or did she?

She had all that hair, maybe it was simply concealed, or her skin healed and it was now invisible, or maybe it was a blow that affected her soft squishy brain but left her skull whole, or maybe it wasn’t an injury at all, maybe she was born this way and…

He felt himself slipping away, so he tried to ground himself in the usual manner,  tugging at his empty eye socket with two fingers.

“you’re… crazy?”

She nodded. “Yup. Totally. Crazy as a hatter.”

She was crazy.

Like him.

She was like him.

He gathered his magic and shortcutted away.


Next time he saw her, he had calmed down and came to the conclusion that if cashier girl was indeed insane, he had to be more careful in judging her actio…

Was that a… cupcake?  

For free?

As a… gift?

First she tried to tell him a (terrible) joke for the first time, and now she was giving him food?

And, wait, it was also a prank: he could clearly see the sharp objects she had inserted to surprise him, but decided to be polite and not point out her mistake, smiling at her inexperience.

He ate it in a single bite and almost sighed at how good it tasted.

She was clearly disappointed at his lack of reaction at her prank but asked anyway if he liked it.

“thanks, kid. that was really sweet of you.”

“You’re… welcome, sir?”

“you know, i never was comfortable being called “sir”. it’s just not me. i’m sans. sans the skeleton.”

He offered her his hand for the old buzzer trick: after all, that was always funny.

She looked at his hand for a long time, clearly seeing the buzzer, then she returned the favor and pretended to fall for his prank as he had done with her cupcake. She also didn’t react at all, just like him.

That day marked the beginning of a new era for Sans.

The “I’m going to have a great time and I already know it” era.


In the following weeks, Sans came to the conclusion that cashier girl was showing too much interest in him for it to be considered platonic.

Anytime he showed up at her workplace, she seemed eager to see him and always had something else to offer him.

Sweets, drinks, snacks, all prepared by her and all with a different kind of prank inside.

She was putting so much effort in both the gift and the surprise, that Sans couldn’t help feeling flattered. 

He… wasn’t used to being courted, least of all by a human.

Why was she attracted to him? And, more importantly, was he attracted to her?

Sans didn’t have an answer to that question yet.

He was getting used to telling humans apart, and he guessed that cashier girl was… pretty? Maybe? She seemed healthy and in the right age for dating.

She was also surprisingly patient in her courting, considering that Sans kept accepting her gifts but had yet to give her one in return: she knew that he was thinking about her offer without outright refusing it, but at the same time he hadn’t given his consent to start a relationship yet.

Very patient indeed.

Then, on a sunny afternoon, she visited his hot dog stand and gave a new meaning to the phrase “up the game”.

“Actually, I’m here for you.”

“for me?”

“Yep. You see, I’m taking notes about a little project of mine, and I’d like to have a second opinion on certain things, but I couldn’t do it at work. So, can I ask you a few questions?”

Oh. Ooooooh.

O-of course. Her project.

The courting.

She was right, her work was hardly the place where she could fully demonstrate her interest, so she had to search for him in her free time.

“sure. shoot.”

“Okay. So, if you were to kidnap someone, would you keep them in the basement or in a shed in the woods?”

Eh. Too easy.

If she wanted to know if he was indeed able to pull his weight in a relationship and defend himself and her, she had to start with harder questions.

“that depends if you want to torture them or not. the screams can get pretty loud.”

The more she asked, the more he realized how much they had in common; she was clearly trying to understand his worth and abilities while demonstrating hers at the same time, and Sans found himself transfixed by her knowledge and genuine curiosity for him.

It was… new.

At some point she ended up sitting on his stand, and Sans realized that she looked so well on it, so natural, as if she belonged there.

It was then that he made his decision.

Yes, he was going to accept her courtship and try out a relationship with her.

 “now it’s my turn to ask you something, cashier girl.”

She visibly perked up. Look at her, so eager and hopeful.

“Sure, what is it?”

“ketchup or mustard?”


 “on your hot dog. ketchup or mustard?”

She simply stared at him for a long time like she couldn’t believe her own ears.

Then, she strangely deflated, like she was disappointed.

But… why?

He finally offered her a gift of food, telling her that he accepted her feelings and…

Oh. Wait. He offered her a hot dog from his stand. She probably thought that he was going to make her pay for it, thus not giving her a gift.

How could he be so stupid?

He was about to rectify his mistake when she decided to talk before him and say something truly unforgivable. “Actually, I’d prefer mayonnaise.”

Oh no. No she didn’t.

She was damn lucky that she said that after he had already made up his mind to be with her.

“i’m judging you.”

Damn right he was.

“Bite me. I love mayonnaise. I would marry it if it was legal. So make sure to pour a big, fat and dripping helping of it all over my hot dog. You will not get between us in our love story.”

She had already lost him at “bite me”.

A chaotic series of possible scenarios in which he would very much like to do that began playing in his mind in full HD and he chuckled.

“don’t mind if I do.”

I know I wouldn’t.

She hopped down from his stand while he prepared her hot dog.


During the following conversation, Sans found out even more about her, like the fact that her mental condition prevented her from understanding sarcasm and that she was worried about the fact that he didn’t have clients because humans were scared of him.

That was sweet of her, but he wasn’t about to change his physical appearance only to make others feel better about looking at him.

He could tell from the beginning that cashier girl wasn’t bothered by his skull injury, because her eyes didn’t keep drifting towards it when she was talking with him, and that was one of the reasons why he liked her.

Still, he couldn’t keep from messing with her as revenge from suggesting him for the second time to cover it, so when she reached for her hot dog, he placed it on her head instead.

She went rigid while she processed his prank, then she grabbed her pen and with a sudden strike tried to stab his hand.

Ooooh, looked like she wanted to play.    

He already realized with her previous pranks that her sense of humor was pretty violent, but then again with her high LV what did he expect?

Luckily for her, his could be too.

She tried several times to stab his hand, each more violent than the last, but he kept shifting it to the side without effort until her last strike proved too much for her pen and it broke in half.

“well kid, i’ll take a stab in the dark and say that you have bone to pick with my stand. don’t bottle up your frustration like this, let it out sometimes.”

She pocketed the half that remained of her ruined pen.

“You’re good at dodging for someone with no depth perception.”

“you’re good at balancing that ‘dog on your head while on a stabbing frenzy.”

Indeed, he had almost let himself get stabbed because he was busy admiring the smoothness of her movements.

She started eating, munching carefully.

Afraid of more pranks?

“What did you put in this?”

Yep, she was.

He couldn’t resist. He had to mess with her again.

“i told ya. it’s a dog.”

She didn’t change expression.

Maybe she didn’t understand…?

“Dog meat sounds like a pain to procure and use only to give away hot dogs for free to homeless people” she said evenly while keeping on eating.

So she did understand.

Also, she had to feel that the taste was not right for a normal hot dog.

Was she putting on a brave front while calling him out on his bullshit?

Or… could it be that she wouldn’t be bothered by it even if it was true?

He had to know.

Time to up his game.

“not if i use it to lure them.”

“For what?”

“for making other ‘dogs. or should I call them ‘people?”

There. He just outright said that he was using human meat.

She kept eating.

She kept eating.

“So is this a hot dog or a hot person?”

Did… did she have a formidable poker face?

No, that was not it, he could still hear her heartbeat, and it was calm.

She was either really unperturbed by the fact that she could be possibly consuming human meat, or she was absolutely trusting him with the fact that he would never do something like that to her.

Sans was at a loss for words.

Absolutely transfixed by her, he could only utter a word: “yes.”

“To what?”

“to both.”

She inclined her head.

“There’s both dog and person?”

Oooh boy.

That was it. Sans had officially lost his nonexistent heart to a human.

“yep. there are a hot dog and a hot person in front of me right now.” 

And how much would I like to take a bite off that hot person right now…

Unfortunately she didn’t seem to get his innuendo because she was too much concentrated on identifying the mysterious taste of her hot dog.  

“This doesn’t taste like meat at all” she declared at last.

Sans chuckled.

So cute.

“just kidding, cashier girl. it’s a plant called water sausage.”

She paused before her next bite.

“So… you’re saying that this is a vegetarian hot dog?”

She didn’t seem happy with the prospective at all.


“You can’t promise me meat and then feed me a plant. What the hell, dude!”

Sans barely restrained himself from bursting out laughing. “that’s what finally bothers you?”

“I can’t believe I paid for this!”

Oh right, she still didn’t know that it was a gift.

“you didn’t.”

There, now she knew. He gave her free food with a prank inside, just like her cupcake. They were officially a couple.

Still, she bristled and put down the uneaten portion of his gift.  “That’s false advertisement! I hope that an entire family of squirrels makes a nest inside your unduct-taped head!”

She stomped away, followed by Sans’ low chuckles.

How sweet, even though she acted angrily, she still decided to share her food with him.

He took the uneaten piece and finished it in a single bite.



The things he did for his cashier girl.

He was a very patient monster indeed.


Chapter Text


Sans was a guy of simple tastes when it came to entertainment; it didn’t take much to make him laugh, really.

Cashier girl was a professional in tickling his funny bone and just being in her general proximity was a sure way to have a great time, like right now for example.

He had decided to pop directly inside the supermarket to surprise her, only to find himself in front of a hilarious situation.

“well well well, it never gets boring around here, does it?”

“How the fuck did you get in here, freak? Stay away or I’ll blow her brain up!”

This was better than TV. It was like looking at a mouse taking a lion as a hostage.

Was this guy for real? Could he really not sense how freaking dangerous the person in his arms was?

Or the monster in front of him, for that matter.

Humans were so dumb.

That being said, Sans wasn’t very familiar with guns, but his brave girl seemed calm as always.

“that would be bad, right cashier girl?”

“I don’t know, we could be cracked skull buddies.”

“’i’m not sure i’d like to be buddies with a gross human with brains splattered everywhere.”

“You’re just jealous because the bullet would exit from the other side and I’d have two cracks instead of a lousy one like you.”

“SHUT UP! BOTH OF YOU!” screamed the human interrupting them.


“Now, you skeleton trash, disappear the same way you came in. I just want the cash, so no one has to get hurt.”

Sans inclined his head. “funny thing to say with a gun pointed at someone, pal.”

“He’s not going to shoot” said cashier girl rolling her eyes.

Of course he wasn’t, the guy had a laughable LV. The most violence he’d ever done was probably kicking a puppy on the street and feeling guilty about it right after, but the fact that she hadn’t already taken care of the matter herself told Sans that there was a strong possibility that the gun could go off by accident.

Sans gathered his magic, getting ready to drag him in an encounter, but before he was ready the human seemed to finally realize the situation he was in and started backing towards the exit.

“You know what? F-fuck this! I’m out of here. If I’d known a monster was gonna show up…”

“Hey dickhead, I’m not a souvenir, if you’re chickening out let me go!”

“wait a minute, pal.”

Cashier girl had been forced to retreat with him, and with her movement, Sans’ attention had been attracted by some unmistakable dark stains that he didn't notice before.  

“why is there blood on your pants, cashier girl? are you wounded?”

Did the piece of human garbage hurt her before he arrived?


The soon to be dead robber began laughing nervously. “Oh my god, this is just not your day, chick!”

“Fucking tell me something I don’t know” replied cashier girl, that for some reason seemed even more annoyed than before.

Was she embarrassed because someone managed to injure her?

Was she afraid that Sans would think less of her because of that?

He would never…   

“What shit luck, taken as a hostage and during your period too!”

Her what?

“what’s a period?”

“Can we not talk about my bodily fluids right now? Or ever?”

“Just, just go, chick. This was a shit day for everyone, go out with your freak boyfriend and make yourself sweet cocoa or what is it that you women do in these days. Bye!”

With that, he shoved her hard and sprinted out of the supermarket.

“Oh no you don’t! COME BACK HERE, YOU SON OF A BITCH!” screamed cashier girl running after him.

This he had to see.


At the end, Sans was a bit disappointed that the worm managed to leave with the police alive, if unconscious, but all in all he could say that it had been a very fun day.

He got to spend some quality time with his girlfriend, seeing her flustered face for the first time and trading jokes with her, and to be honest, he didn’t want it to end yet, so he decided to stay with her during the walk to her home.

Sans didn’t mind the slow pace their relationship was taking: for various reasons he never really was the type for commitment before, but now that he was living in a rather peaceful period of his existence, he was willing to try, one slow step at a time.

There was no need to rush, and luckily cashier girl seemed to have understood that, considering that after her patient but pressing courtship she had visibly backed off.   

Now she seemed tired.

Maybe he should stop teasing her for today and…

“Is there a reason why you are even here?”

Never mind, they were still on.

He stopped.

“actually, yes.”

She stopped as well, looking at him with a puzzled expression on her tired face.

“tell me, cashier girl…”

Why are you so cute?

 “… what is a period?”

 She blinked.




“You… you…” she sputtered.

The look on her face was priceless!


“I can’t believe I’m still here listening to your shit!”


Then, everything went to hell in a few moments.

Some random human interrupted them asking her about what happened at the supermarket.

She answered.

The human grinned and ceased to be some random person.

It pulled out a gun.

It aimed.













So much blood.

Sans woke up in the basement.

No, he was already awake.

He just snapped out of it.

Shit, how much time had passed?

He ran upstairs, getting in the shower faster than he had ever done before.

His scrambled mind took that time to reorganize itself and present him what had happened during his time out.

He had managed to pull cashier girl to the side just in time for the bullet to only graze her. Still, a lot of blood began to spill from the wound.

Then the vase, and the car.

Too fast for his already messed up mind.

Cashier girl still on the asphalt.

The thing that shot her long gone.

The hospital.

No one allowed to see her while they put her back together.

He had other thing to do anyway.

The thing was gone but he was good at tracking prey.

He found it.

Then, the basement.

Eh. His was very well soundproofed.

Maybe he had to tell cashier girl that, next time she asked.

Once completely clean, he shortcutted inside the hospital.

It took him a while to find out where they put her, and once he did he was blocked by a police officer that wanted to ask him what had happened.

He lied and told him that it was too dark and he didn’t see anyone. They wouldn’t find it anyway even if he told the truth.

Finally, before his already thin patience completely snapped, they let him inside the room. She was sleeping, covered in bandages and with her arm in a strange rigid casing.

Her personal belongings were beside her bed and right on cue her phone started ringing.

He picked it up.


He should probably answer that.


…. Who are you? Tell me what happened. Now. What have you --- Wait, honey, calm down! Hello! We are a bit worried over here, you know, after five missed calls. Is our daughter alright? Are you her friend?”

“she is in the hospital. she was shot, then hit by a pot, then by a car. i’m looking after her right now.”

“Oh. Oh god. That-that sounds like her. Yes, okay, god, we are coming right away --- Is she okay? Why didn’t anyone call us? Were you there? How could something like that happ --- We are coming! Stay with her please! Thank you so much!”

They hung up.

Sans took a chair and sat beside her sleeping form.

“your parents are funny.”

She didn’t respond.


They arrived one hour later.

Sans could clearly hear their voices outside the room.

“What do you mean, we can’t see her? She’s our daughter!”

“Please, lower your voice. There’s already someone with her at the moment, and we can’t allow too many people inside at the same time. This isn’t even a visiting hour, the only reason we’ve let someone in at all is because she’s had a traumatic experience and when she wakes up it’s better for her to see a familiar face.”

“But she is alright, isn’t she? Why is she still asleep?”

“She has been highly sedated for her and our sake, the first time she woke up she was disoriented and violent, she ripped off the IV and tried to hurt whoever was near her.”

“That’s why someone had to contact us right away!”

“Honey, please, calm down. Let me take it from here. What my wife is trying to say is that our daughter suffers from a mental condition that causes her to have little inhibition of her actions. Normally she is a good girl, but leaving sharp objects near her is a bad idea. Please always state beforehand what you are going to do before approaching her, and try to talk to her as much as possible.”

Cashier girl had moved slightly during that conversation, her eyes moving behind her eyelids, but then she sighed and went still again.

“do you want to see your parents, kiddo? i understand. family is important.”

He got up and quietly opened the door.

He found himself in front of a nurse and two other humans.

The male one looked at him and let out a whistle.

“That’s a nasty crack you have there, buddy! Didn’t expect you to be a monster.”

The female one elbowed him. “Don’t be rude, dear! We want to see our little girl, can you please wait outside?”

Sans stepped away from the door.

There was a coffee machine at the end of the corridor, and he spent there the next two hours.

At last they emerged from the room and went straight to him.

“She is still sleeping” said the woman. “We have to go now, we both have work in a few hours and can’t be back until afternoon.”

“i’ll stay with her.”

“Thank you. For everything. Do you have any idea why this happened?”

I do and it doesn’t matter anymore.

“i don’t. we were just walking down the street.”

“I see.”

The man put an arm around her shoulders. “Anyway, take good care of our sweetpea while we are gone, okay?”

Sans simply nodded.

With them gone, he took his previous place at her side and soon fell asleep.




“Sans. Wake up.”

He was comfy.

He wanted to keep sleeping.

He was sooooo going to keep snuggling on his soft pillow…

“Sans. There’s an army of squirrels, they’re coming for you.”

Sweet gods of the Underground!

He abruptly sat up on his chair, realizing where he was and what was happening.

Cashier girl was awake. Still, couldn’t she have thought of some better way to make him notice?

“that was a rude way to wake a guy up.”

“Sleeping on someone is rude, and I feel high. Why am I high?”

Indeed, she had a very relaxed and dreamy expression on her bruised face.

“doc went heavy on you with painkillers and sedatives. are you hungry?”


This was his moment.

He had already taken out the threat, so it was time to take care of her and show her how good he was at providing comfort for his injured mate: he helped her drink, made sure her bed was comfortable, righted her covers, and controlled that the nurse that entered shortly after did nothing to harm or upset her.

“Why am I here?” she asked after the nurse exited the room.

“you don’t remember?”

“I remember the robbery. Then the police came. And then… I went home. No, wait, you were following me and then...”

She paused.

“Was I shot? Is that why the police wants to talk to me again?”

“yep. it was dark and apparently, no one saw what happened, so they still don’t know who did it.”

She looked at him with a confused expression.

“What do you mean? It was that girl, you saw her.”

Ah, so she remembered it.

It would have been much easier if she had forgotten that part.

“there was no girl.”

Her eyes gained a stubborn light.

“Yes there was. I saw her. And so did you.”

That wouldn’t do. He already told the police that he didn’t see anyone, it would be much better if she just went with his version of the facts.

“i said”, he repeated slowly, “there was no girl.”

She inclined her head and then poked him on the forehead. “You’re strange.”

She giggled.

It was the first time he heard that sound coming from her.

He kinda liked it.

“and you’re high.”

And so damn cute.

“That I am. Come on, tell me I’m not crazy and you saw her.”



She just served that to him on a silver platter.

“oh, i sawed her all right. and you are crazy.”

“Ruuude. So she shot me in the arm?”

“actually, the bullet just grazed you.”

After I pulled you away not fast enough.

“Then why did I faint?”

“because an old lady on a balcony was startled by the gunshot and dropped a potted plant on your head.”

“Is that why my arm is broken?”

“nope, that’s because before losing consciousness you wandered in the street and a car hit you.”


She looked at her shoulder.

“Is that where she shot me?”


“I never saw a bullet wound” she said peeling the protective layer off the wound.

Sans was pretty sure she wasn’t supposed to do that.

Just as she wasn’t probably supposed to poke the wound.

“This is so cool” she said giggling. “Hey Sans, do you wanna touch it?”

Despite the situation, Sans was starting to enjoy himself.

His mind was slowly beginning to really understand that the danger was gone and that she was going to be alright, so he let himself have a bit of fun.  

“that’s not really what i wanna touch, cashier girl.”

“You’re no fun. Why did she shoot me? I don’t get it.”

Aaaand just like that, all his playfulness went out the window. Again.

“she was the robber’s girlfriend and was outside acting as the lookout. she wanted revenge.”

At least, that was what it had confessed during his personal brand of fun back in the basement.

She yawned. “You’re talking about her in the past tense, Sans.”

Eh. Cashier girl was strangely perceptive sometimes.

“am i?”

She also didn’t seem perturbed at all.

“Yes, silly. Did she try to shoot you too?”

“no. worried?”

“I’m trying to understand why you got angry.”

Sans didn’t know how to take that. It was obvious why he got angry. Something had tried to take his mate away from him. Why couldn’t she understand something so simple? Was it because she was drugged?

He put a finger under her chin, using it to turn her face towards him.

Her skin was warm and soft.

“you really can’t imagine why?”

“I was the one shot, so it makes sense for me to be angry. Only I can’t because I’m sedated. Your bones are so white. Do you bleach them?”

The change of topic was so abrupt that for a moment it left him speechless.

She… wait… she just praised him?

He felt his skull slowly warming up as magic rushed to the surface of his bones.

D-damn, he was blushing.

It was not his fault, she just caught him by surprise!

Did she think his bones were beautiful?

“that’s my natural color. do you... like it?”

Please say yes.

She poked his cheekbone. What was it with high cashier girl and poking?

“White is a pretty color for bones. I guess that yellowish bones would look unhealthy and a bit gross. Like teeth, you know.” 



She actually said it.

He didn’t know what to reply.

Compliment her too you big stupid bumbling idiot!


“thanks. your bones are a pretty white too” he said on autopilot before he understood his obvious mistake.

Indeed, cashier girl furrowed her eyebrows. “How do you know that?”

Now what, genius?

His eyelight fell on the still open wound, where he could see a small patch of white.

“your bullet wound. you can see the bone inside of it.”

“Oh. You sure you don’t wanna poke it?”

Oh dear. Oh gods.

She asked him. To touch. Her bone.

It was too soon. They weren’t at that point in the relationship yet.

He shouldn’t.

He really, really shouldn’t…


That was the first time Sans got himself kicked out of a hospital.

He felt like he really deserved it.

Still, he probably wasn’t going to wash that finger for a long time.


Chapter Text


It was not your fault.

You were just frustrated.

Having only one working arm was making your life very difficult and you had grown frustrated, and this was the horrifying result.

It was four in the fucking morning and your kitchen was a war zone. There was absolutely no other word to describe it: it looked like a grenade filled with flour and chocolate had gone off in the middle of your table after a crazy gingerbread man had taken hostage all of your cooking utensils and you had failed to negotiate their release.

As a result, you now had a post-apocalyptic disasterpiece of a kitchen with you as the only (food covered) survivor and three whole trays of chocolate chips cookies as spoils of war.

Stress cooking was a thing for you.

What in the sweet holy light of the world were you going to do with so many cookies??

You grabbed your phone.

- Dude. I made a terrible mistake. I need your help. -

- what happened? you hurt? -

Well, that was fast. You had planned on going to sleep while waiting for him to answer hours later, but since he was already up…

- My kitchen is hurt. -

- your kitchen. -

- Yep. Want some cookies? -

- now? -

- You’re awake. -

- that’s some sans-ational deductive skill you’ve got there. -

- You’re awake, I’m awake, I’ve got a shit-ton of cookies in desperate need of love. Why are you denying them your love? -

- but why do you have a shit-ton of cookies at four in the morning and why is your kitchen hurt? -

- I just made them. With only one arm. I may or may not have splattered ingredients everywhere, myself included. -

- … so you’re covered in flour? -

- Mostly chocolate. -

- i’m coming. -

There was a soft knock on the door.

 Your hand was halfway towards the knife drawer when you remembered that Sans could teleport. You shrugged and grabbed one anyway.

When you were near the door he knocked again, but when you tried to let him in you couldn’t open the door. What the…?

Was it stuck?

You tried pulling with more force, but it wouldn’t budge.


Was the little shit pulling at the same time to keep it closed?

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“that’s not what you’re supposed to say.”

He knocked again.

Oh for the love of…

Was your knife long enough to stab him through the door?

Fuck, no it wasn’t.

Sans knocked yet again.

I’m so going to stab him when I finally open the door.

“… Who’s there?”


“Dwayne who?”

“ dwayne the bathtub, i’m dwowning.”

Damn him, it was good.

Guess you were not going to stab him. This time.

You opened the door and there he was, hands in his pockets and shit-eating grin; his only eyelight traveled slowly up and down your body.

“you weren’t kidding.”

“Told you. Now help me eat my babies. Wanna watch a movie?”

“that’s the strangest question a giant chocolate cookie ever asked me.”

“And your answer is…?”


He followed you in the living room.

“Sit there on the couch. Oh yes, just put the azalea behind it, I forgot it was there.”

While he made himself comfortable you grabbed a tray of cookies and put it on the low table in front of the couch, then you went in your bedroom and took a blanket from your bed. You knew that Sans tended to get cold easily, after all.

He was already eating when you sat beside him after turning off the lights and draped the blanket over both of you.

“If you are one of those people that talk during movies I’m going to literally stab you, and I’m not joking. The only moment you are allowed to speak is during a horror movie” you said while browsing Netflix for a good choice.

“then it’s a pity, because i don’t watch horror movies.”

“Neither do I.”

“too scary?”

“Boring. I can’t feel fear, so I don’t get what the fuss is all about. Why you don’t watch them?”

Sans fell silent. After a minute, you glanced at him to make sure he didn’t have a stroke on your living room.

He was…

Was he…

“Oh, come on! How can you be already asleep?”


In the end, you picked an action-adventure kind of movie.

You never watched it before and halfway through you realized that it was not very good, but it was you who chose it, so you had to watch it until the end.

There were many moments in which you thought that Sans had fallen asleep, but then he would reach for another cookie and sink a little bit lower on the couch, making you aware of another fact, which was the increasingly short distance between you two: at the beginning there was a certain space between you, but then your consciousness would emerge from the movie and you noticed that your legs were touching, then your arms, then he was practically sandwiched between you and the armrest.

Was this… cuddling?

You never cuddled with someone before. Sure, your parents would hug you sometimes, but always after asking you if it was okay.

This was different and… well… good. You were actually feeling good.

You felt like you were finally beginning to understand why people liked having friends this much.


You slowly opened your eyes.

The room was bathed in daylight and the TV was turned off. Strange, you didn’t remember doing it. In fact, you didn’t even remember the end of the movie.

What time was it?

Fuck, did you skip work?

No wait, you didn’t have work today. That’s why you were baking cookies at two in the freaking morning.

Thank god, you could go back to sleep.

You yawned and snuggled once again in the fluffy blue hoodie of the skeleton you were currently spooning.

Mmmh, smelled like cookies.

Damn, you had to pee.

Sighing, you disentangled your good arm from Sans and the blanket (the one with the cast was simply on top of him) and stretched, then you got up and made your way to the bathroom. After taking care of your business you brushed your teeth and washed your face, then you went to the kitchen to make coffee.

While you waited, your attention was caught by the knife you abandoned on the table before the movie. Usually, the thought of hurting others didn’t spark any type of emotion inside you, nor bad or good. The only reason why you never killed anyone was because from a logical point of view you knew that it was a wrong thing to do (also you kinda preferred to not go to prison), but if you actually did it you wouldn’t feel anything. Except for your parents, obviously.

And… Sans? Could you still hurt Sans if he pissed you off?

If you picked up the knife and stabbed him while he was sleeping, would you feel anything?

A sudden loud noise from the living room pulled you out of your thoughts. The coffee was ready, but you ignored it and looked toward the other room, then you hesitated with your hand above the knife.

Sans made a noise that sounded very much like a whimper.

You rushed out of the kitchen leaving the knife on the table.

Sans was clearly having a nightmare: he was thrashing and kicking at the blanket, making noises halfway through a growl and a whimper, his hands were gripping the couch cushions and pretty much tearing them apart.

Well, fuck.

What were you supposed to do now?

Well, why don’t you try waking him up, you fucking moron?

Right, okay.       



“Sans, wake up! You’re destroying my couch!”

No reaction whatsoever.

Why did he have to be such a heavy sleeper?

You kneeled next to him and put a hand on his shoulder, trying to shake him awake, which caused him to turn his head around abruptly and bite your arm. Your only freaking working arm.


Not knowing what to do to get him to let you go, you headbutted him, and thankfully it worked, even though now you were seeing stars from both your arm and your forehead. Then, next thing you knew, you were pinned on the ground beneath Sans, who was staring at you with a blown out of proportion eyelight and a crazy bloodthirsty (and now blood-coated) smile.

He was clearly still not awake.

You were clearly starting to get pissed off. His fingers were pressing on both your bite wound and your cast and it was hurting like a bitch.

“Sans, I’m warning you, wake the fuck up or you’re gonna regret what comes next.”

He growled at you. You growled back.

He sat on your stomach and growled yet again.

You raised your head and shoulders as much as you could and growled right back at him.

He blinked slowly and inclined his head. Then, even more slowly, he started purring.

He freaking started purring.

What the…?

You were two heartbeats away from hooking your legs around his neck and slam him on the ground, and he had to pick right that moment to start making cute sounds all of a sudden?

In fact, all of his demeanor changed: he loosened his grip on your arms, his eyes became half-lidded and he seemed to melt on top of you, nuzzling your neck without stopping purring.      



What the hell were you supposed to do now?

Carefully, you rolled around until Sans was under you, smearing both of you of blood in the process. Then you sat up on top of him, grabbed the tray with the leftover cookies and poured them over his face.

Finally, he woke up with a start. “what the…? cashier girl? what’s happening?”

“Don’t “cashier girl” me, Sans. Next time you pull something like this, the tray is going to make itself nice and cozy up your ass, consider yourself warned.”

“something like- wait, are you bleeding?”

“You were having a nightmare, I tried waking you up and then you went all feral on me. The bite’s my fault because I touched you while you were already too much agitated, but I’m not happy about the fact that you know everything about my craziness but you didn’t bother telling me shit about yours. It’s not right.”

You felt Sans deflating beneath you as if trying to shrink away, while his eyelight kept shifting everywhere but on you. With a sudden flash of clarity, you realized that he was going to teleport away.

“Oh no you don’t!” you said grabbing his hoodie and pressing your legs on his hips. “If you run away I’m not going to ever want to see you again, because I really don’t need chickenshits in my life!”

He went rigid, his eyelight snapping to your face, and you tried to convey through your expression how serious you were about it: you were not joking around, if he bailed, you were calling off all this “let’s be friends” crap and probably never try it again.

“i’m broken” he simply said after a long pause.

“Well fucking duh! Your head is nearly half missing, of course you’re broken. Why don’t you try to be more specific?”

“it’s a long story.”

“Try to summarize it so I can hear the end before I bleed to death.”

So… he did.


Chapter Text


While you kept your arm under the running water of the sink to clean the wounds, which thankfully were pretty shallow because you sure as hell were not eager to do another guided tour of the local hospital’s ER, he told you his story: who he was before, how he became like this, the hunger, the things he had to do, how both his head injury and his high LV influenced his mind.

You weren’t sure how exactly you should react. Worse yet, you didn’t know how Sans expected you to react. His voice had long since lost his hesitance and had acquired a monotone cadence that persisted until the end of his story, while his single red eyelight stared off in the distance as he stood in the middle of your bathroom with hunched shoulders and hands in his pockets.

Fuck, earlier you were just angry because he kept secrets from you about his mental condition, but now you felt kinda… bad? You had guessed that his was not a happy story, come on, you weren’t that dense. But…  you hadn’t considered the fact that telling you about his past would be such a big deal for him. He was always so calm and laidback!

What was he feeling? He was clearly upset. Why was he upset? What should you do? Shit, did you have to cheer him up or hug him? What would a friend do? Say that she understood? But you didn’t. You had fortunately never been in his situation, so you couldn’t understand. Was he upset because he had killed innocent people? Or because of the reason why he had killed them? Or you had it all wrong, and he was simply sad because he was normal before and now he was all kinds of crazy?

You never comforted someone in your entire life.

Did he want to be comforted?

Your brain was going too fast for you, you didn’t know what to do, what to say, what to feel…

Were you upset?


It didn’t make sense.

You… you…

“I-I hate these double standards!”

You were both surprised by your sudden and seemingly random outburst, you could tell.


“I mean, if you burn a body at a crematorium you’re ‘doing a good job’, but do it at home and you’re ‘destroying evidence’!”

There was a moment of absolute silence.

Then Sans’ entire posture relaxed, his eyelight lost that glazed over appearance and he started chuckling.

“Also, I recently made a website for orphans” you continued with a more confident tone.


“Yes, but it doesn’t have a homepage.”

Sans started laughing for real, and you felt something in your stomach release its tight grip, letting some kind of feeling that felt suspiciously like relief wash over you.  

Then a sharp sting in your arm reminded you that you still had open wounds down there and that you were out of hands to properly treat and bandage it.

Five minutes later you were both sitting down at your kitchen table after you had thrown a towel over it, and Sans was carefully tending to your fresh injuries under your instructions.

“So, you mean that before you became like this, your pranks and jokes were even worse?” you asked after a couple of minutes of watching him disinfecting your arm in silence.

“you could say that, but i wouldn’t also have hung out with someone with an lv as high as yours in the first place.”

“Wow, judgmental much.”

“eh. now, i’m not exactly in a place where i can judge others for killing people.”

“Well, you’re damn right. It wouldn’t be your business if I killed someone, which by the way I never did. I wished I did, though.”

That seemed to baffle Sans for some reason, judging by his expression. “what do you mean, you never killed someone?”

“It means that people always parted ways with me breathing and still kicking and not inside a black sack on a gurney.”

“… are you lying to me?”

Whaaaat? Why the hell would he believe that? Now he was just being rude!

You snatched your arm back from his hands.

“The only time I ever lied about a murder was to cover your ass, or have you already forgotten it? Just because I tried to kill you once or twice it doesn't mean that I go around killing people left and right like a maniac!”

You got up and started gathering the cooking utensils you left in disarray that morning to dump them in the sink.

You turned around and Sans was right there blocking your way.  

“you can’t reach a level of violence this high without killing.”

You can’t reach a level of violence this high without killing” you repeated imitating him. “Open your nonexistent ears, buddy: I. Was. Born. Like. This. What part of “I am crazy” is so hard for you to understand, exactly?”

Suddenly, the kitchen, your home, yourself, all was thrown in a pit of darkness so absolute that you couldn’t literally see yourself.

What the fuck??

You couldn’t speak, you couldn’t move, you couldn’t even feel the wooden spoon you were still brandishing; in front of you there was Sans, but he was distorted: it was like you could only see him in black and white.

Then he spoke. “sorry cashier girl, but i’m actually not sorry. i have to know if you’re telling the truth, and an encounter is the fastest way. don’t worry, i’m just going to check you. you can do the same in the meantime.”





Magic. This was magic. He was using magic on you without asking first. What did he mean by “checking you”? As in “checking you out”? And he asked you to do the same? WHY? HOW?

You saw him look down, so you did it too and noticed that in front of you had appeared some orange glowing words.







There was also another glowing spot; it came from inside your chest, or, well, where your chest would be if you could actually see it: from your point of view, you could see that it was a cartoonish glowing yellow heart.

Okay, you got it, you were still dreaming. Or high. One of the two.

Did you put weed in your cookies?

“you have to select act, cashier girl.”

Ooooh, did you, now?

You looked at ITEM.

You tried to move your arm, only for the strange freakish yellow thing to move instead.




Wooden spoon:  weapon. Good for spanking and cooking.

Cast: sturdy armor. Cannot say the same for the arm inside of it. There’s a funny phrase written on it.

Chocolate cookie: tastes like friendship. Heals hunger and broken hearts.


Ooookay, this was pretty useless and disappointing.

You eyed the FIGHT option, but you weren’t that angry. Yet.








So, if you wanted to talk, you had to select it first? Also… Flirt????

You felt like if you opened your mouth right now, all it would exit from it was profanities and insults.




SANS - 1 ATK  - 1 DEF

*Your first friend*

*Likes your sweets*

*His bones are very white*


You pushed the TALK button.

“Why is this fucking thing informing me that you have white bones? I already know that, thank you very much!”

“checking me out already? you learn fast.”

Checking! I’m checking you! Now, can we go back to my kitchen?”

“if you want to end the encounter you have to spare me.”

“And how the fuck do I do that?”

“mercy button.”

You looked at it. Then at the FIGHT one.

You couldn’t help yourself, you had to see what would happen.




Suddenly you could feel your arm again, so you swung the wooden spoon at Sans automatically. He easily sidestepped you.





“How’s it possible that you are always so freaking slow, but when it comes to dodging you shapeshift into a ninja?”

“dunno. does that mean it’s my turn to attack you?”

Well, you did attack him first.

“… I guess it’s fair.”

“okay then.”

A pale blue bone appeared in front of you, aiming at the yellow heart in your chest. It was little and very slow, and you watched with curiosity as it connected with the heart and passed through like it had no consistency at all.

You didn’t feel anything. It didn’t even tickle.

“… That’s it?”


“That’s lame.”

“that’s because you didn’t try to dodge. if you move when that attack hits you, your soul gets damaged.”

“My soul? You mean… this freakish neon lemon colored cartoon bullshit is my soul?? Where’s yours, then? Why am I going around flashing my soul but I can’t see yours?”

“are you sure you want to talk about all this while still flashing me your soul?”

You hit the MERCY button and spared him.

You found yourself back in your kitchen, bathed in daylight and standing in front of Sans.

You promptly picked him up by the front of his blue hoodie until your faces were a few centimeters from each other. “So, did you found out if I was telling the truth?”

Sans was apparently content with just dangling passively from your grip.

He was actually lighter than you thought.


“And couldn’t you have just asked?”

“told you, it was easier this way.”


“souls don’t lie.”

“Is that why my soul was taking a hike outside of my body? So you could have a nice little chat with it without my stupid lying mouth acting as a filter between you two? Next time you wanna know something, should I just whip it out and leave you alone with it while I shut the fuck up sitting in a corner with mushrooms growing on my head?”

Strangely, at the end of your rant Sans’ eyelight glazed over and his cheekbones changed once again color from white to pale blue.  

Shit, not this again! What the…


Wait wait wait.

“Sans. Are you… are you blushing?”

The blue deepened and he averted his gaze.

He was! He fucking was!

But… Why?????

This… this was too much. You were starting to get really confused by too many things all at once, so you slowly took a deep breath and put him back down.

“You know what? I’m too sober for this shit. I need alcohol in my system and I need it right now” you said heading toward the fridge to grab a beer. Or two dozen.

Sans’ sudden grip on your wrist stopped you though.

“if you want a drink, i know a place that’s open right now. my treat.”

Well, who were you to refuse alcohol for free?

“Okay, let’s go there then. Is it near?”

Sans made a step toward you and put his arm around your waist.

“don’t worry, i know a shortcut.”


Chapter Text


The place Sans knew turned out to be full of monsters.

Big, loud, twitchy looking monsters.

The good thing was that now you had the answer to the question you had been asking yourself for quite some time: no, it wasn’t just Sans, every monster apparently had a fond and intimate relationship with the act of staring and a distant and vague understanding of the word clothes; half of them was completely naked, while the other half was… covered. Yep. They were covered the same way Sans was: sure, he had actual clothes on, but that didn’t mean basketball shorts and pink slippers had any business hanging out together on a person at the same time.

That meant that you, dressed in a pajama, with nothing but socks on your feet, covered in flour and chocolate, with a cast on your arm and a bite wound on the other, fitted right in.

Wait, did you comb your hair this morning?

Who cared, you were here for the alcohol.

And getting an explanation from Sans.

But mostly alcohol.

Speaking of Sans, you couldn’t help noticing that he was quite popular, in part because you had mad deductive skills and in part, because half the monsters greeted him cheerfully while the other half exited the place immediately, giving him a wide berth.

You kinda wanted to ask why, but then you saw all the colored bottles behind the bar counter and your head emptied itself of everything that didn’t have a label with alcohol percentage written on it.

You dragged Sans behind you and sat him on a stool, then you looked at the monster made literally of fire standing between you and the only real joy in your life. “Please tell me I can get drunk with any of that. I’m not picky, I just want my one-ticket way to drunken oblivion to make sense of this day.”

The fire monster looked first at you, then at Sans.

You snapped your fingers in front of his face. “You’re better not be asking his permission, buddy. I’m not a minor and he’s not my daddy.”

“grillby’s asking if you know about monster alcohol.”

“Oh. It’s alcohol and it’s made by monsters. Do I pass?”

“eh. good enough. we’ll take two bloody marty.”

You looked skeptically at Sans.

“Bloody Marty? Seriously?”

“don’t judge before trying.”

“Do I want to know what’s inside?”

“alcohol made by monsters.”

“Eh. Good enough.”

 When your drink arrived, you took a moment to examine it from all angles.

“It’s purple.”


“Is that a skull floating inside?”


“Is it made of sugar?”


“Is it made of marshmallow?”


“Is it made of something edible?”

“define edible.”

“You know what? Fuck it” you said before throwing your head backward and drinking it all in one go.

All the pub exploded in cheering.

You got up from your stool and bowed to your little audience, tilting dangerously forward in the process.

Sans grabbed your arm just in time to prevent your face from getting up and personal with the floor.

“You were right. Tooooootally edible! Why aren’t you drinking yours?”

“i am drinking mine. you gobbled yours.”

“Don’t be a pussy, Sans. Drink it all in one go and then explain to me all that soul garbage from before.”

“i was hoping alcohol would make you forget.”

“You were hoping wrong.”

On the stools on your right two dogs and a clearly drunk bunny tried very hard (and very poorly) to not show they were listening to every word while Sans told you about encounters and souls. It went all well until he reached the part about soul colors and their meaning.    

“You’re drunk, Sans”

“no i’m not.”

“Yes you are. I’m not a justice soul. Do you know who has a justice soul? Batman. Do I look like Batman?”


“Which by the way it’s a pity because he’s a real beefcake and I would totally fuck him. Wouldn’t you?”

Sans sighed and rested his face on his left hand.

“not really.”

“Why? What has he done to you? Do you have something against bats?”

“I have something against boning imaginary people.”

“What’s wrong with you? Everybody wants to bang imaginary people! Batman, Santa, Mary Poppins…”

“that’s a whole bunch of mental images that I really didn’t need in my mind.”

“You know who else has a justice soul? Not me, that’s who!”

“yes you do. your soul is yellow.”

“Maybe it’s light orange and we got confused.”

“nope. it’s yellow.”

“You know what? Take it out and look again!”

Sans groaned while the monsters on your right giggled and the bunny exclaimed: “Yes Sansy, whip it out and take a good look!”

You showed them your middle finger.

“Come on, it didn’t seem like a problem an hour ago when we were alone.”

“please stop.”

“Stop what? Stop talking? Oooh yes, I forgot that I’m a lying bitch and you can only trust what comes out of my mouth if you can also check out my soul. Should we give it a name, since you’ll need to look at it every time I talk? Wait, maybe I should buy you a kit for polishing it! Would you like a polishing kit for my soul, Sans?”

He was sinking more and more in his seat with every word, while your little audience was howling with laughter by now.

His face was bright blue.

“i get it, you’re angry, please stop.”

“Are you even sorry?”

“i’m sorrier than you could ever imagine right now.”

“Damn right you are! Call me a liar one more time and I’m going to rip out your soul and shove it so far up your ass that I’m gonna see its color through your eye-sockets.”

“Oh my gods Sansy, who is this adorable little cake?” said the bunny out of the blue.

Sans sighed.

“she’s my…”

“The name’s Mind your fucking business. Happy to meet you” you interrupted him.

 “That’s a long-ass name. Can I buy you a drink, Mind your fucking business?”

“Stop it, Bun. Don’t you see what’s on her arm?” said one of the dogs, shaking his (her?) head.

What, your cast? Were they pitying you? You were still able to kick their asses even with one arm!


Were they Sans’ friends?

You stood up abruptly.

“I saw a jukebox” you said before leaving them all there.



No. You were not feeling bad.

You couldn’t feel bad.

You were angry with Sans.

You didn’t feel anything at the thought of hurting his friends.

You just left before hitting them because… because you didn’t want to get in trouble. And also because you had a one month record of non-violence to beat.

Yep. That was the reason.

A perfectly reasonable and Sans-free reason.

You didn’t care about his opinion.

At all.

In fact, you were going to put an amazing song at the jukebox and dance all by yourself. Better yet, you were going to look around and see if in this sea of monsters there was a cute and possibly humanoid-shaped one, and then you were going to ditch Sans!

It would serve him right for making you angry.

That prick.

Only when you found yourself in front of the jukebox it occurred to you that you were in your pajamas and because of that without money.


You stared at the machine very hard, hoping that would be enough to make it magically work.

It wasn’t.

 Why did the world hate you?


You turned toward the gruff voice, founding a red demon-looking monster holding a coin.

“Thanks” you said taking it.

“Sans saved my life back in the Underground. It’s only thanks to him that I didn’t starve, you know. It’s the same for everyone in this pub. So, as long as you make him happy, you’re always welcome here.”

With that, he turned his back to you and walked away.

Ooooookay, that was a thing that happened, apparently.

You examined the music choices while concentrating hard on not being weirded out by that exchange. You, making Sans happy? How? Well, you supposed that not beating his friends up was a good start, but you weren’t under any illusion of being what any sane person would call a good friend.

Thinking about it, Sans already seemed to have plenty of that (and by “that” you meant friends), so why did he decide to hang out with you of all people?

You turned around and bringing your hand next to your mouth you said loudly: “Hey Sans! Let’s bang tonight!”

He sputtered his drink all over the counter.


“The song Let’s bang tonight. Do you like it? I’m gonna choose it anyway, so you may as well say yes.”

Everybody cheered again, while Sans hid his face behind his hands.

Then he gave you a thumbs up.

Well, everything considered, you were not so bad as a friend!

After you put the song, an energetic track with a good beat, nearly every monster started dancing. You could only do so much with your cast, but you tried to have fun anyway.

Someone kept choosing more songs after the first ended, and you ended up dancing at first alone, then with more and more monsters, twirling around and making contact with all sorts of scaly, furry and webbed hands; you lost track of how much time had passed when at last someone put a slow song and everyone started dancing in pairs.

You shrugged and began rocking in place with your eyes closed, until you felt a pair of boney arms slipping around your waist from behind.   

“are you still angry?” said Sans softly at your ear.

You didn’t open your eyes and kept rocking in place, forcing him to adjust to your rhythm. “No. You’re lucky that my mood changes very easily. I didn’t know you liked dancing.”

“you seemed bonely doing it all alone.”

“… changed my mind. I’m still angry.”

You heard him snickering. “too late.”


You danced in silence for a few seconds.

“So… why did you blush earlier?”

“… i don’t remember.”

“Yes you do.”

“no i don’t.”

“I hate you.”

He snickered some more and you felt what was probably his forehead resting against the back of your head.

“no you don’t.”

You sighed softly.

“No, I don’t.”

His arms tightened around your waist and you kept dancing in silence for the rest of the song.


Chapter Text


You were in paradise.

Your shift at the supermarket was half an hour away from ending, no one had tried to rob the place and you hadn’t been forced to use your gun to persuade a stubborn customer to pay.

All was going so well and… and then the sliding doors made of bulletproof glass opened and you cursed out loud.

That weirdo was back!



You looked quickly at your coworker with a pleading expression, but she simply mouthed “sucks to be you” and ducked behind the vegetable aisle showing you her middle finger.

That bitch!

You saw every kind of strange and questionable people every day, but this guy definitely took the cake in the weird department: he was relatively young, maybe in his late twenties\early thirties, average height, white hair, red eyes with deep shadows underneath, ears with piercings, a gold tooth, always dressed in red and black and with a freaking spiked collar around his neck with a leash attached. His voice was deep and used only to make rude jokes and stupid comments, while his face apparently only had two settings: pissed off and bedroom eyes.

You admitted that maybe, under a certain light, he’d be pretty good looking, if only he didn’t dress like someone who got his clothes by shoplifting blindly in a pet store for sadomasochist circus animals. And if he kept his mouth shut.

And if he stopped regularly trying to rob the place. 

Speaking of the devil, your least favorite person in the world arrived in front of you with his arms full of mustard bottles, beers, cigarette packets, two porn magazines and a dog leash.

You knew better than to ask about the last one.

 “knock knock.”

You sighed and pointed your gun at him.

“You already made the “robin me” joke. Ah ah. Let’s skip to you paying for your stuff.”

He dumped everything in front of you and raised his hands in a mock surrender sign.

 “jeez sweetheart, what got your panties in a twist?”

“Your face tends to have that effect on me.”

“maybe it would have a different one between your legs.”

You cocked the gun.

“alright, alright, i get it. tough crowd.”

While you typed the prices on the ancient cash register as slowly as possible you desperately tried to find a way to avoid what was about to happen, but your stupid brain couldn’t find a solution; the idiot had surely shoplifted something, he always did, so body searching him, like many other costumers, was usual procedure at this point.

Your coworker was still hiding somewhere in the vegetable aisle, probably laughing her ass off at your expenses, so it was your duty to do it.

You really, really, really didn’t want to do it.

You briefly thought of simply letting him keep whatever it was that he had stolen, but your bosses would not be pleased and you needed this job.

You lifted your face to tell him to pay and found him smirking down at you.


Considering that he always took stupid and useless things from the shelves for you to find beneath his clothes, you were beginning to wonder if he did it just to screw with you.   

“is it time for you to get in my pants already?”

Yes, he was definitely enjoying this.

“Aren’t you a smart boy. First give me the money, then hands on the wall and stay still.”

Once he was with his back to you with his hands on the wall, you carefully put down the gun and took a knife, pressing it on his neck lightly, just to make sure he knew to not make sudden moves.

Ooookay, deep breath. You can do this.

You patted him first from neck to waist, checking the hood of his black jacket, his pockets and his red sweater, and then, crouching down and shifting the knife so that it was now pointed below the belt at a much more sensitive and delicate area, you checked his pants.

You found in total another bottle of mustard, a packet of chewing gums, a lighter and a small comb.

For the whole time, you tried to ignore how his breath quickened when you made him feel the pressure of the knife or his dirty comments when you had to put your hands beneath his jacket.

The fucking weirdo was not scared in the least of the knife, he was excited.

Ew ew ew.

With your task finished, you backed away from him and tried to ignore his smug grin when he turned around, grabbed his things and finally headed for the exit.

“it’s always knife to see ya, cashier girl” he said before the doors closed behind him.

It’d be knife to never see ya again.


That evening you decided to go out to drink and get in a drunken fight like everybody you knew would do.

Four drinks, three thrown chairs avoided and two fires started and put out later,  you realized that your mind kept on returning on the fact that seeing blood seriously made you want to puke your guts out.

Groaning, you cleaned the booth from all the glass shards and thumped your head on it.

How did your parents keep up with your shit through the years was a mystery to you. A childhood with no knives, no enemies, full of therapy sessions to understand why you were not violent and body searches every morning before school to make sure that you were not bringing candies and flower crowns in the classroom, and yet they still loved you.

It was mainly for them that you insisted on trying to blend in society. 

You were not a pacifist in the strict sense of the word.

You were able to use weapons and beat someone up, you just had a very, very hard time doing it. You could be threatening someone with a broken bottle and in the next moment offering them a tissue because they had sneezed.

It was not like you woke up in the morning thinking how much you loved humanity and how many ways there were to help others, you just… didn’t have a violent bone in your body.

But you were getting better. Most of the time, you could pass for a normal violent person without anyone giving you weird glances.

Except for the idiot with the white hair.

He always gave you weird glances.

But that was because he was weird.


Glancing up at a sudden commotion, you noticed a group of people clustered on the opposite end of the pub. Was another fight about to happen? Heck no, you were not going to be able to get through another one without betraying your total lack of enjoyment. You were so done, time to go home.

Indeed, in the next moment, a chair went airborne and crashed on the wall next to you.

Abandoning your drink, you decided that was your clue to get lost.

“Next motherfucker who throws another chair in my pub is going to pay for all of them! I said only knives and fists, you idiots!

“Tell it to this albino fucker!”




Oooooh no.


“that’s rude, pal. that’s mr. fucker to you. or, well, to your mother last night.”

Fuck shit fuck why couldn’t your legs move faster?


How didn’t you notice that he was here as well?

Had he just arrived?

Were you stupid?

Wait, yes you were!!

The exit, you had to reach the exit…!

Aaaaand a freaking booth flew past you and crashed against the door.


That, apparently, was the signal to start the biggest, most violent fight you had ever been part of in your entire life.

Escaping through the front door was no longer an option, since being in the open for more than a few seconds was a sure way to become a big nice target for flying bottles, furniture and even people.

You took cover beneath a booth, knowing that at this point you had to simply wait it out.

It was going to be a long night.  



You were following the weirdo in a dark street at night.


Because you were dumb.

The fight had lasted for ages, you had to change hiding place multiple times, and when it had finally died down, that is when almost everyone was unconscious or too beat up to even lift a finger, the idiot with the white hair had grabbed a bottle from the bar and had exited the place smoking a cigarette without even limping.

And leaving a big thick trail of blood behind him.



He was badly injured.

Everyone else at the pub was going to be okay, since soon enough a group of ambulances was surely going to arrive at the place like vultures and get paid for the service, but the idiot had walked out.

You didn’t like him, you didn’t want to help him, you were sure that he deserved every punch and object thrown at him that night, but you simply couldn’t return home after seeing his blood on the ground.

Why. Were. You. Like. This.

Why couldn’t you simply ignore hurt people like everyone else did?

You were dumb.

That’s why.

So now you were following him from a distance in a dark street, because your still tipsy brain made you even more unable to deny your instincts and kept presenting you with the image of him dying of blood loss on the way home.

Fuck your brain.

You were going to make sure that he got home still alive.

After that, it was not your business what happened to him.

Just until he got home.

Just until…

Right on cue, he wobbled on his feet and then faceplanted on the ground.

And stayed there.


You frantically looked around.

There was no one.

Was he dying?

Was he already dead?

Fuck, you had to check him, didn’t you?

Carefully, you reached his prone form.

You crouched beside him and put your hand on his back, lightly shaking him.

He didn’t wake up.

Next, you put two fingers on the side of his neck; after a few seconds, you felt a pulse.

Well, that was good.

Now, what were you going to do?

You didn’t know where the guy lived and even if you did there was no way that you could drag his heavy ass anywhere.

Suddenly, an illuminated window in one of the houses in front of you was opened and someone yelled: “HEY YOU! IS THAT PATHETIC BUNDLE OF DRUNKEN RUGS MY WORTHLESS BROTHER?”

Startled, you shot up from your crouch.


Okay, so that was his brother.

Yep, you could see that he had white hair as well.

You took several steps backward.

The weirdo was home.

He was no longer your responsibility.


You started running.


The next morning, you were regretting every action that had led to your present existence, from the night your parents forgot their condom to your idiotic life decisions.

Your head felt like a metal band was having a rave party inside your skull, your stomach had already made known its displeasure with you twice, and the deep shadows under your eyes made you seem like a vampire. Or a professional boxer.  

Work was slow and boring, but you didn’t care. You had other things on your mind.  Like what the hell crawled in your skull to make you have pity for that perverted, rude, annoying piece of…

“knock knock”

What the…

You looked up.

It was him.

For a moment, you were at a loss for words. What was he doing here after only a day? How was he on his feet like nothing had happened?

“How are you still alive?” you blurted out before you could tell your big, fat, stupid mouth to shut itself.

You could tell that you had caught him by surprise, but his stunned expression changed quickly to one of smug satisfaction.

“well well well,” he said crossing his arms, “so it was you who followed me home last night.”

You put your hand on your gun while putting on a bored expression.

“I just saw your stunt last night and the pool of blood you left behind, that’s all. Why would I follow you home?”

“you see, that’s exactly what i was asking myself while you pawed at me after i decided to take a nap on the ground.”

You bit your tongue to keep yourself from telling him that you certainly were not “pawing” at anybody last night, least of all him.

“So you sleep on the street, someone pokes you around probably to find your wallet and your mind goes to the cashier of the supermarket? Seems legit.”

“that’s the thing, sweetheart,” he said leaning forward, “you were not searching for my wallet. you were checking my vitals.”



“Maybe it was a very polite thief. Why are you insisting it was me?”

“because of your scent.”

Aaaand that was not creepy at all.

“also my brother saw you.”

So he could have said that in the first place but he couldn’t pass an opportunity to behave like an absolute creep.


“so, cashier girl. why were you checking my vitals yesterday night?”


You had to tell him that he was wrong. That you had only wanted to rob him and…


Wait wait wait.

If you told him that, he’d like it; he’d probably laugh and call you an amateur and think you were cute.

After all, he loved it when you threatened him with your gun.

But, if you told him that you had actually wanted to help him… he’d think you were weird. Stupid. A lunatic.

He’d be surely disgusted, like everyone else.

Maybe enough to even decide to avoid you?

Decision made, you looked him dead in the eyes, took a big breath and blurted: “I wanted to help you. That’s what I do. I want to help people. I saw that you were hurt and wanted to make sure that you didn’t die on the street like a stupid shit.”

The more you talked, the more the grin he usually wore on his creepy face slipped away, leaving him by the end with a stunned expression.

“are you for real?”

You nodded. “Yup. Totally. I also drink my coffee with four spoonfuls of sugar.”

Oh god his face. Why didn’t you have a camera?

The look of consternation he was giving you right now was priceless!

“I’m like a teddy bear” you added trying to not burst out laughing. “Cuddly and filled with love to give. Can I knit you a scarf?”

Starting to sweat visibly, he backed away as if you had tried to give him a ticking time bomb.

In the next moment, he ran away without looking back.

You lost your battle with your giggling fit and had to grab your sides.






You had been going around with a teddy bear in your bag for a week.

Yep, that was a thing that you were actually doing.

The fact was, you weren’t sure if the operation “scare away the weirdo” had been a success, so you spent actual money on this dumb thing for the sole purpose of nailing down the concept that you were a sugary menace to avoid at all costs.

You had even personalized it by attaching a small collar and leash to his neck.

You were clearly not a sane person.

So, when the doors of the supermarket opened and the perverted idiot arrived in front of you ten minutes later with the usual mustard and porn, you quickly performed the body search, ignored his dirty jokes and for the first time actually joked back: “Knock knock.”

He paused with a cigarette halfway to his mouth, but then humored you.

“who’s there?”


“bear who?”

“Teddy bear.”

“what the fuck? that’s not funny at…”

The words died on his lips when he saw the little collared teddy bear you were now extending to him.

“It reminded me of you. It’s a present. Because I’m a kind person.”

The cigarette fell from his open mouth.

Muahahaha, you were an absolute genius!

Yes! Be scared, be disgusted, call me a freak, tell me to mind my own business, swear to go away and never return!

He raised his hand.

Oooh, he was going to knock the ridiculous thing on the floor, or take his gun out to threat you, or…

He took the teddy bear.

Wait, what?

You stared at him in stunned silence while he opened his black jacket and actually put the plush in a hidden pocket like there was nothing wrong with it or the world in general.

Next, you searched his face for signs of disgust. Nothing.

You only found a grinning weirdo. 

“Do you like it?” you asked at last, not knowing what else to say that wasn’t a variant of what the fuck, dude.

“you’re really a weird one, sweetheart.”

“Look who’s talking. And I’m not your sweetheart.”

“well, if you ever decide to pull out the stick that someone shoved up your ass, you can always call me to help you with it. the name’s sans, by the way” he added extending his hand toward you.

You kept yours by your side.

“Thanks, but I like my stick and I don’t want to know what you’d do if I left you alone with it anyway.”

He grinned and winked at you.


That day marked the beginning of a new era for you.

The “I know I have fucked up somehow but I don’t know what to do about it” era.


Chapter Text


Christmas was approaching.

That sounded slightly ominous, because it actually was.

It was all your father’s fault; you were minding your own business, happy in your obliviousness, until one day at the beginning of December while you were at their house he asked you: “Sooo, sweetpea, what are you going to give Sans for Christmas?”

You stopped what you were doing (which may or may not have been related to sharpen obsessively all the house’s pencils thinking about that annoying neighbor who constantly let his dog poop in front of the door) and stared in the distance with your eyes glazed over while your world crumbled around you.






Friends gave each other presents for Christmas.

You never bought a present for a friend.


“Father” you said mechanically.

“Yes, daughter?”

“Christmas is coming.”

“Yes, sweetie. It happens every year.”

“Sans is my friend.”

“So you tell me.”

“I have to buy him a present.”

“Oh, for the love of God!” interjected your mother. “Knock it off, you two. The White Walkers are not invading us and buying a present isn’t the end of the world.”

“It is if I don’t know what to buy.”

“Well, what does he like?”

“Food” you answered without missing a beat.

That much you knew about him: he loved food. Cooking, eating, watching cooking shows on TV, going grocery shopping with and for you, pestering you about the fact that you didn’t eat enough, all of them were food-related activities that he absolutely adored.

Your parents began throwing ideas your way while your brain desperately tried to recover from that sudden holiday-related blow.

“Okay, maybe you can bake him a cake.”

“Dear, that sounds like a birthday gift. Hey, maybe he’s one of those poor souls who are born near Christmas and receive only one present a year, that would be very convenient!”

“What about chocolates?”

“That screams Valentine’s Day.”

“Why don’t you think of something, then?”

“I’m not nearly as creative as you, honey.”

“I don’t want to give him food” you said interrupting their banter. “I already do it all the time when I make too much.”

Doing it for Christmas too seemed… lazy.

What did Sans like aside from food?

He liked jokes.

A joke book?

No, he surely had dozens of them already.

“Hobbies?” asked your mother.

Torture and murder?

You snorted.

Yeah, like you could give him something of that line of…

Well. Actually, no one said you couldn’t.

A set of knives?

“Sweetpea, stay with us. Hobbies?”

Right, scratch that. Knives were not very Christmas-like.

Maybe for his birthday…

“We lost her again.”

“Sweetie, do you need a grounding hug?”

You refocused your eyes on them. “I never asked him about hobbies.”

Your mother tentatively put her hand on your shoulder. “Don’t think too hard about it. If it’s not poisonous or sharp, anything it’s a good choice.”

“Is there someone you can ask for advice? Another friend, a relative…” said your father.


A relative?

“He has a brother.”

“Perfect, then you can ask him! Only, you know, maybe drop all those pencils before you do, okay?”

You sighed and nodded.

“Very well! Now that that’s settled, let’s talk about my present.”

“You’re getting the same as always, dad.”

“But I’m running out of place to put them!”

You just stared at him while your mother snickered beside you.

Finally, he sighed. “Fine, I get it. There’s always space for a new pencil set.”



Three days later, you were in front of Sans’ house, staring at his front door like the total creep you were.

You knew that following him home to know his address would turn out to be useful one day, so now you could meet his brother without Sans knowing anything about your diabolical plan.

You had to wait until you were sure he was not around, and today you were sure that he was at his hot dog stand. That didn’t mean that his brother would be home though.

Please be home.

You knocked.

Almost immediately, the door was opened with enthusiasm that bordered on violence and you came face to chest to Sans’ little brother.

Yeah. Little.

You took a step back and craned your head up. And up.

The little brother turned out to be a huge skeleton monster who had to duck his head to pass through the door.

He also had an impressive row of huge teeth that put his brother’s to shame.


You took another step back. He wasn’t exactly yelling, but the way he talked was so sure of itself and strangely powerful that it made you inexplicably nervous. Also, he seemed like the invasive and touchy type and you didn’t want to risk being triggered and hurt him.

“I’m not your neighbor. You’re Sans’ brother Papyrus, right?”


He took a step forward, which prompted you to back away even more.


A truck passed on the street behind you, honking loudly and covering Papyrus’ last word.

You thought you heard the word “friend” somewhere beneath all the noise, so you nodded and told him your name.

What else could he have said anyway?  

He seemed excited by your answer and visibly beamed.


He tried to grasp your hands in his and, since you were still dizzy from the barrage of words that just hit you, he succeeded.

Holy fuck, this guy was fast!

“Sans’ Christmas present” you blurted before he could start talking again. “I need help because I don’t know what to buy him.”


You sighed.

It was going to be a long day.

Papyrus insisted on letting you inside their home, offering you drinks and food, saying something about the fact that apparently you were now part of the family and you were welcome to come whenever you liked.

You left one hour later with a container full of spaghetti, a bottle of some strange monster-made tea, a wrapped up bone as a present to give to your parents, an invitation to the skeleton brothers’ house to celebrate Christmas together, your head confused and still dizzy from what was probably the highest number of words you ever heard in your whole life coming out of one person, and still no idea of what to buy for Sans.

Apparently, food was a really appreciated gift for monsters, from what Papyrus kept telling you.

You kinda understood it, considering what they went through in the Underground, but…

You stopped on the sidewalk, your gaze caught by a shop window.

Slowly, the fog cleared from your mind as a bright light shone on you from above and you realized that what you were seeing was the answer to all of your questions.

Yes, this was a great idea!

You were a genius!

Sans would be so happy and… and…


Wait. Did you have to buy a present for Papyrus too now?




Sans and Papyrus’ house was decorated like an overgrown Christmas tree, managing to be a beacon in the night probably visible from space and a giant fire hazard at the same time.

Mmmh, if a house caught fire in the middle of winter would it spread to the whole neighborhood or was the temperature too low?

If aliens decided to invade Earth attracted by the blinding light, would monster magic work on them?

What demon possessed Sans against his will and made him dress nicely in jeans and a red sweater, even making him lose his damn pink slippers?

Why was Papyrus nowhere to be seen and there were only you and Sans in the sparkling clean living room? Well, not that you minded, but it seemed strange, considering that he was the one who invited you.

“Have I scared your brother?” you asked, putting on the table set for two the cookies you baked for them.

“eh, don’t worry. he does that a lot when he wants people to bond” answered Sans, promptly snatching a cookie from the tray.

This was so strange.

Maybe it was the fact that you never hung out at his house before, maybe it was because all the lights and decorations were confusing your brain, maybe the sight of Sans wearing clothes that matched and showed actual effort on his part was weirding you out, but you were suddenly feeling nervous about the present that you were yet to give him.

You thought about it all evening, while Sans fed you so much that you were sure you were about to explode and scare away all the aliens that by now had surely landed on the roof: what if he didn’t like it?

What if you fucked up and he expected food as Papyrus told you?

Your eyes kept drifting to him, wondering if it was too late to pretend that the cookies were actually his present.

Speaking of which, how did Sans manage to get crumbs all over his face like that considering that he ate them all in one bite?


“Has anyone told you that you don’t make any sense?”

“eh, many times.”

“Good. Now stay still.”

You reached over the table and carefully swiped your thumb under his mouth.

“There. Better.”

Before you could sit back, Sans grabbed your hand. Then he opened his mouth and actually licked your finger.

“let’s not waste anything, am i right?” he said, winking.

For a few moments you just stared at him, too stunned to actually talk, then your brain finished processing what it just happened. “I can’t believe you did that! Who does that? And since when you have a tongue anyway?”

He chuckled at your expenses. “what’s the matter? didn’t think i have some tricks up my sleeve?”

“And you use them to lick me?”

His grip on your hand tightened.

Oooh no.

“Don’t you dare!”

Slowly, he opened his mouth, sticking his blue tongue out.

You tried to pull your hand back, to no avail: he licked you from palm to fingertips, while you whined pitifully. “Ewwwww, noooo! What the hell, dude!”

Looking satisfied with himself, he let you yank your hand back; you wiped it on your napkin, shooting daggers at him with your eyes.

“You know that this means revenge.”

“my bones are rattling in fear.”

You stood up.

“You’re gonna regret this.”

“bring it on.”

Oooh, he didn’t just say that.

After rolling up your sleeves, you pointed dramatically at him. “You. Me. Outside. Snowball fight. Now.”



You were covered in snow.

Actually, you and the snow were becoming one, judging by the way it was making itself comfy down your sweater.

Sans absolutely crushed you, dodging everything you threw his way and hitting you with surgical precision, that little shit.

“You’re cheating!” you yelled while a snowball chased you around.

“you didn’t say no magic.”

 “Fuck you and your magic!”

At the last moment, you changed direction and ran straight to him; opening your arms, you jumped and dragged him on the ground while the snowball hit you on the back.

“Yes! Sweet vengeance! Become one with the snow!”

“that was a low blow.”

“That’s what you deserve for cheating. Snow shower!”

He just stayed there, receiving his punishment passively while you covered him in snow until he resembled a snow poff.

“Sans? You’re supposed to try escaping.”

He didn’t answer you.

Confused, you uncovered his face and found him with his eyes closed.

“I can’t believe it! How can you be asleep?!”


After that, you went back inside and sipped hot chocolate on the couch, hoping that the house’s warmth and the blanket you were both covering under would be enough to dry your damp clothes.  

“I totally won.”

“if you say so.”

 “Of course I do, because I won” you said, wondering if skeletons were ticklish. After all, you needed a weapon if he insisted on denying your absolute victory.

Luckily for him, Sans let the topic drop.


“so, when do humans exchange presents during christmas parties?”

“I guess now is a good time as any. I’m gonna grab yours.”

He stopped you before you could get up from the couch.

“don’t worry, i’ve got it covered.”

Two packets came levitating your way, ending up on your laps.


Why did you keep forgetting about his magic?

“so, um, who goes first?”

Aaand the awkwardness was back.


You thrust your present on his lap before you could talk yourself out of it.

It was late to do that anyway.

“Here. Open mine first.”


He opened the packet, then he stared at its content without saying anything.


He didn’t like it.

Shit shit shit.

You began rambling: “Okay, I know that you like food and I should have probably gotten you that, but then I remembered that you get cold easily and that it’s winter and I saw them and I thought that they could be useful and now I fucked up and-“

“i like them.”

“-and it’s no problem we can bring them back to the store and… what?”

“i said,” he repeated lifting the pair of star-patterned mittens and fitting them on his hands, “that i like them. how did you know that i like stars?”

“Papyrus told me.”

“ah, so that’s why you two met. he wouldn’t tell me how he ended up inviting you here. here, now’s your turn.”

You took the packet he handed you.

Suddenly, you were suspicious.

What if it was a prank?

“It’s not one of those things that shoot water at your face when you open them, right?”      

“guess you have to open it to find out.”

Welp. Here goes nothing.

You carefully opened it.

Inside, there was a cupcake-shaped pendant.

You stared at it.

“um, you know, it reminded me of that first cupcake you gave me, remember? sure, it’s not exactly the same but it’s the right color and…”

“I like it.”

“… really?”

You did. It was because of that cupcake if now you had a friend.

Well, the intention behind it had not been exactly getting a friend, but it was the result that counted, right?


You fastened the necklace behind your neck, letting the pendant rest on your chest.

“it looks good on you.”

“Well, not as good as those mittens look on you.”

You smiled at each other like two idiots.

“Merry Christmas, Sans.”

“merry christmas, cashier girl.”


When you finally decided to go home, it was very late.

You and Sans had ended up watching a dumb movie and you had been tempted to simply fall asleep on the couch, but in the end the thought of being woken up by Papyrus’ loud voice first thing in the morning had convinced you that sleeping on your own bed was the best decision.

You were just outside the door, exchanging the last goodbyes with Sans when you spotted something hanging on the doorway that you hadn’t noticed before.

It was mistletoe.


Sans followed your gaze. “oh yes, paps hung that before going away. what’s that?”

He didn’t know.

You could shrug and say that it was just another meaningless Christmas decoration and go your way.


“It’s mistletoe,” you heard yourself saying. “You’re supposed to kiss when you’re under it.”

You saw the exact moment that Sans grasped what you just said, because his face became tinted in that shade of blue that by now you knew meant he was blushing.


“It’s just a human tradition.”


How were skeleton monsters supposed to kiss, anyway? They didn’t have lips.

That meant that Sans had never kissed anyone before.

Was he curious?

Were you curious?

After all, you sure as hell never kissed a monster before.

Sans was your friend, and you were standing under the mistletoe.

Why not?

“um, cashier girl?”

“Stay still.”

Slowly, you bent down, pressing your lips to his cheekbone.

It was smooth and warm, probably because he was still blushing.

After a moment, you straightened and took a step back.

He was looking at you with a strange expression that you couldn’t decipher.

“Goodnight, Sans.”

“y-yeah, goodnight.”

Walking away, you pressed your fingers to your lips.

They were tingling.