Work Header

I don't have a working title yet, whoops, sorry

Chapter Text

Sound machines filled up every corner of the office. It was a privacy thing, and a comfort. Most therapists used it for both- you just thought it made people tired. Afterall, that's what always happened to you. It's possible that you only feel tired because the appointment is at eight o'clock in the morning, but you liked to believe that you were stronger than the exhaustion you woke up with each day.

You could see her down the hallway, working at her desk in her room. She had a slight frown on her face, that of concentration and focus. Must be working on paperwork.

Awkwardly standing there, you wait for her to notice that you're there.

And wait some more.

You really didn't want to be the first one to interact. An intrusion of privacy, that's what you thought. Her room was like a house, it was her place, and you didn't want to just walk in. It just felt... wrong.

However, she obviously wasn't going to look up any time soon. You were going to work up the nerve to speak up, whether you felt comfortable with it or not. Besides, you think, she's my therapist. She's there to help, not to criticize. Just... just say something. Say hello- yeah, hello! That's a safe thing to say, right?

"Uh... hello?" Oh, God, that sounded so aggressive, Jesus please just bury me-

"Oh! I'm so sorry, I recently got some work to take care of, I completely lost track of time!" She was smiling, that smile that reminded you of a friend you had. Kind, sweet, and attentive. It just... that was part of what you liked about her. She was a soothing face to see.

God that sounded so weird.

"Come on in, Y/N." With that, you walk down the hallway to her office, where she waited patiently.

As you sit down on the couch in her room, she closes the door gently. "Sorry for not speaking up sooner," you apologize. "It's not the same coming to you without my mom speaking up."

"You're absolutely fine. How are you," she asked, sitting in a chair across from you.

"I'm, uh... well... I guess I'm alright?" You say, not really sure of how you're feeling. "I'm... existing????" She chuckles. You laugh along with her. That was something you were good at: joking around about serious things.

While you're laughing, you take a quick moment to look around her room. Every time you stepped in here, something is always moved around. Discreet, small things, but little details that you notice. One day, a small statuette might be on the table by her chair, and the next, it would be on the shelf above her desk. It was something you were intrigued by. Did she use these in other appointments? Did she get tired of where the object was placed, and move it somewhere to make her happier? What goes through her mind?

There were other things you like about her room, as well. While she technically had LED lights on the ceiling, she relies on the light from lamps. It makes the room a bit darker, but you liked that. Just like you enjoyed your high-school history teacher's room that never had the overhead lights on (unless you had a sub, which you absolutely despised), you enjoy not have the glaring lights overhead in your eyes.

Then, of course, there were these dumb pillows that you tried to resist playing with- I mean, you're supposed to be paying attention, but she deliberately puts them there to fotz with for her appointments. They're those stupid reversable sequin pillows. (AN: You know exactly what I'm talking about.) You can't deny it- they're dying to be messed with. Flip them up and down a few times, and then apologize for not hearing what your therapist said. God-damn, that was both annoying and satisfying.

Anyways. Back on to what was happening.

"How does it feel, knowing that you're going into college next year?"

Well, ma'am, it feels like aHhhhhHHHHHHHhhgfhgsafdsgja. But, I doubt that's the right answer. "It's, uh, kind of weird. To be honest." That was true, you weren't lying about that. It was weird. You were going off somewhere to learn for the next four plus years, and then you would walk away with a degree. Or a few, who the hell knows?

You continue to talk. "I mean, you know... it's college. I'm going to be an adult, making my own decisions, paying rent... good lord, how does this even work? Damn it, why did high-schools have to get rid of home-ec..." You rub your hand over your face, groaning. "Maybe then I'd know how this works."

"Well, at least your parents will be able to help. After all, you have two siblings who have gone through college, right?"

"Yes, that's, uh, right."

"So you can also get help from your siblings, too."

"If they aren't busy living their own lives," you mumble under your breath. There were times where you'd feel bad about feeling so upset for your siblings doing their own things- after all, they were older than you by at least eight years. Kamille, or "Kallie", as you preferred to call her, was your eldest sibling. She was twenty-eight years old. Meanwhile, Chris, your brother, was twenty-six. They were both older than you, and absolutely the best.

That doesn't mean you didn't have grudges, or arguments, or problems of any sort. That's to be expected. It just meant that there was a certain level maturity you couldn't get from siblings around the same age as you. More experience.

She noticed your mumbling. She didn't say anything. But she noticed.

"Y/N... are you okay?"

"If I were, I wouldn't be coming to see you, would I?" you half-joke. You sigh. "No, I'm not. Me and mom still... struggle. Plus, Chris is an asshole at times."

You went through the rest of the appointment talking to her about your problems. Per usual. No change from that.

When it came to the end, she asked a question. A question you hadn't even thought about.
"Have you found out where you'll be living?"

"Oh! Um, yeah-yes, uh, I'm in a dorm with another roommate." She raised a brow at this.

"Have you met them?"


"Would you like to talk about them?"

You glance at your watch. "I have to go, but I can talk about them more next week. Until then, here's some food for thought: he's a skeleton monster, a he, and a fu- sorry, freaking genius." You grin awkwardly. "Well, I'll see you next week, Mrs. Luther."

And that was before you really got to know your roommate.

And before he got to know you.

Chapter Text

"so. you're y/n?" The skeleton monster looked over at you from his room's door, his nonchalant grin plastered on his face. You stop lugging your luggage (hehehehe) to your room to maintain eye-contact.

"No, I'm Tired," you snort. "Yes, my name is Y/N. And you're...?"

"sans. sans the skeleton."

"Obviously, since you're not Sans the Skin." Please shut up, good lord that was the worst joke- He started laughing. You heave a silent sigh of relief. See? It's fine, you reassure yourself. You keep yanking at your bag while his laughter dies down.

"yep. that'd be kind of weird, to be honest." You try to envision it. Stars, that is weird. "it'd probably be a skin to look like that." That was even worse than yours. You're fine. You let out a loose, but strained chuckle. It's silent for a few seconds. "do you need any help bringing your stuff in?"

You shake your head. "I can do it myself but- ugh!- thank you!" Was this bag always this heavy?

Kicking open your door, you look into your room. You had been able to visit before to look at it, and it wasn't anything special. At least, not yet. The walls were plain, a clean cream color, and the carpet was a mottled gray. Your closet wasn't very large, but it served its purpose. Meanwhile, there were only two bathrooms in the dorm, but only one truly functioning. Unfortunately, the non-working one would not be fixed until winter break, and that is forever from now.

The room was almost empty except for the college-provided full bed, prepared to be made. You always considered it kind of weird that your siblings never really slept on their own bed in college, and now you were going to do the same thing. You touch the navy blue mattress. Definitely not my mattress, you think to yourself. With a burst of strength, you toss your luggage onto it for unpacking. Casually moonwalking out of the room, you make finger-guns at it, and say, "I'll do you later." Because you had no desire to take care of this at the moment.

As you step into the living room, you see that Sans has already set up a decently sized 42" TV in front of a green, patchy couch. He was working on setting up what looked like... a PS4? You think??? You casually plop down on the couch, and watch him tampering with the wires. You didn't think he had noticed you after a brief period of time, but he suddenly says, "my brother, papyrus, absolutely loves the surface. especially the cars. once he found out that there were devices that allowed you to drive a car on the tv, he bought like, three of them." You gape a little. Three? Holy shit, how rich is this guy? "he figured since i was going to a human colllege, i should take one of them. it was very car-siderate of him." You snort a little.

"You certainly seem driven to get it set up," you add, smirking. You walk over, and casually peer at a box of games he brought. You recognized a few of the titles in there- Queendom Hearts 3, Pyro Reignited, Diagon Zero Dawn, Burnin Paradise Remastered... These were games that you were gonna go nuts over. He better be planning on sharing, because there's no way in hell you were gonna pass up a chance to play these. Diagon Zero Dawn? Come on. That's a great game.

Well. You hoped he would share, anyways.

"you seem to enjoy jokes," the skeleton commented, an amused tone in his voice. He looked at the TV as the PS4 started to turn on. "that's very empowering."

"That wasn't even good."

"eh, it's hard to come up with material out of nowhere." He shrugs. You both stand up, and you realize he's shorter than you by a few inches. Not by much, but noticeable enough. Meanwhile, he was wearing some white slippers, with a raggety blue jacket, and a white t-shirt. Black gym-shorts with a white stripe drape down to his knees. He grins. "hope you're bonely for some company, since i'm your dorm-mate."

"It'd be a fibula to say that I wasn't looking forward to having someone else in the dorm." You smile. He didn't seem half-bad. You glance awkwardly back at your room. As much as you'd prefer to continue procrastinating on your work, you knew the luggage wouldn't unpack itself. "I'd say I'd like to get to know you better, but, uh, I've got some moving in to do. Maybe later tonight we can properly introduce ourselves?" He shrugs.

"might be nights to do." Another snort.

You could already tell this was going to be a pleasant dorm.


After several hours of placing furniture... and then replacing furniture... and then eventually putting them back where they were in the first place, you had finally set up your room to a situation you were comfortable with. It wasn't very big to start with, but you'd made it work.

You'd left your full in the corner by the window, with a night-table next to it. It had a lamp on it that was shaped like an Edison-light-bulb, but a hell of a lot dimmer. The comfortable, yellow light didn't add enough light to fill the entire room, so like the artsy motherfucker you are, you strung a bunch of yellow christmas lights on the ceiling from side to side. They draped down a little, and with no fan on the ceiling, it was easy enough to cover up practically the entire area.

Meanwhile, on the floor, you made sure to bring your off-white fan to cool off your room. The A.C. did diddly-squat for you, so you wanted to make sure you could cool off. It was also nice as a noise-machine. You couldn't stand sleeping without some sort of background sound. It just... the dead silence tended to scare the begeezers out of you. Childhood fears die hard, you guess.

On the walls, you hung some of those little wooden phrases that your mom had gifted you each Christmas. Ever since she had found out about your depression, she had tried everything she could to help you feel better. You could never find the nerve to tell her that a main part of it was your need to please her. Your pressure to make her happy, not angry at you. Unfortunately, she sunk back into the habit of consistently yelling at you for whatever thing you had fucked up this time around, so you decided to not tell her in the end. So much for maintaining an open relationship.

The wooden phrases were fun though. Aesthetically pleasing, you guessed. Some were more common than others- "Life is not about waiting for the storm to stop, it's about learning to dance in the rain-" "Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise-" You know, that sort of stuff. What your mom didn't know about was that you also had some poster quotes of your own. Like that "fuck" poster you had. God, were you blessed to have found that gem on Amazon. Or, of course, the different tumblr posts you had printed out and taped around your room. Yep, you were one of those people- sorry, not sorry.

You finished placing a few more of your clothes into your closet when you heard a knock at your door. "Just a sec!" You shove the rest of your clothes in. You'll take care of it later. Meanwhile, a muffled voice said, "not gonna lie, but i a-door the poster you have on your door. might disappear at some point." You stumble over and yank the door open to see Sans casually standing there. You peer at him. "Nice pun. Wood you be so kind as to explain why you're outside my door?"

"figured you'd be six of working on your room and would want some dinner. got some 'dogs from the grocery store to cook." You glance at your phone, which was blasting what sounded like Take on Me by A-ha!. Pressing the power button, your phone said it was past six in the evening. Damn. Dinner time.

You had to admit, you had made a lot of progress on your room though. You were all but moved in, and all that needed to be taken care of was the last of your clothes. That could be easily taken care of, though. "Alright, you right, you right. I'm coming." You quickly pause your music. You close your door, but you notice a little edition to your "Unless there's a zombie apocalypse or food, leave me alone" sign that you had taped onto it. A huge, fake mustache.

Weird flex, but okay.

You can smell a pleasant aroma from the hallway, but it doesn't quite smell like hot dogs. Something a little more... well, you weren't exactly sure. You were going to find out, though. "I mustache you a question. That doesn't exactly smell like hot dogs, so what is it?"

He grins at you from the kitchen. "apostrophe dogs. 'dogs. used to sell them back in the underground."

"I'm kind of confused, not gonna lie."

"eh, don't worry aboudit." Well, okay then.

A few minutes later, you and Sans are casually sitting at the table eating... 'dogs. They looked exactly like hot dogs, and yet, they just... weren't. Maybe they were a little more fuzzy or something? More juicy? You weren't sure what the hell was the difference, and it was really bothering you. You weren't going to try and ask Sans again, though.

"so. wanna tell me about yourself?"

"Wha woo' ou like to kno?," you ask, your mouth full of food.

"dunno. hobbies? major?"

You quickly swallow the bite in your mouth "I'm gonna work on a major in technological sciences. You know, I.T. and all that shit. As for hobbies... I guess I like gaming? And, uh, reading?" You weren't sure how to answer the hobby question. Could never answer those properly on applications, and little "Tell me about yourself" papers. "Uh, yeah. What about you?"
"working on my next phd. asgore said i should get some on the surface in case some of the humans up here don't take me too seriously, and i could learn more about your culture, science, that stuff. hobby-wise, i enjoy star-gazing." You can't keep your eyes for widening any more than they already are. First of all, he's working on a PhD- second of all, he said his next one? What the hell does that mean? And some? Some PhDs? What the fuck?!

"I'm rooming with a fucking genius," you whisper under your breath in awe. You put your hand against your head, shook. This sloppy, messy, punning every minute skeleton... was a genius. Holy shit.

"eh, i wouldn't say genius, but thanks for the compliment," he said, chuckling.

"How- how many do you have?"

"about five monster phds. not that it makes much difference on the surface, but yeah, i've got that going for me." Your jaw opens. Holy. Shit. FUck.

Chuckling bitterly, you say, "Sorry that you're stuck with me, in that case. No PhDs to be found here, I'm afraid. Not in the future, either." He raises an... eyebrow bone. "In any case, that's awesome! You're like... Einstein, or some shit."

"or some shit, most likely," he jokes. "alrighty, next question... uh... why don't you ask one?"

"Oh, okay." You really wanted to ask if he was always a skeleton, but you felt like that was probably kind of specist. "Uh, favorite food?"


"Sorry, what?"

"yup. it's ketchup."

"That's. Uhm. Wow. Okay."



"yup. my brother throws a fit whenever i have it in front of him. i rarely do, but sometimes i do it tomake-to him riled up." he laughs. "he hates it. hope you don't mind."

"I'll try not to judge," you comment. That's true. If he likes ketchup, then who are you to judge? Everyone has their own likes and dislikes. "My favorite food... probably chocolate-covered pretzels? They're really good. Like, really good. You get that nice sweetness on the outside, and then it's salty and crunchy on the outside, like..." you moan. "They're really good."

More laughter. "you seem to like them a lot, huh?"

"No, I'm just talkin' about how great they are for no reason- yes. Yes, I do." You smile wryly. "Alrighty, next question, heh."


"Yup. Two of them, both through college. One brother, one sister. Both awesome." You smile, thinking of Chris, with his dyed-blonde hair and sarcastic face, and Kallie, sitting with her hubbie playing Light Souls. You loved them, but you didn't get to see them too much, since they were busy with their own things. You hoped they were doing alright. "And you have a brother, Papyrus, right?"

"yeah, he's pretty cool. only sibling i've got." You nod. "hey, uh, once we're both done eating, would you like to play burnin paradise or something?"


Chapter Text

It's been a few weeks since you had moved into your dorm. Your room, per usual, was descending into a state of organized chaos, and unfortunately or fortunately (you couldn't really tell), your mom wasn't there to tell you to "clean up your room because it's a fucking pigsty". You know, one pair of shoes out of the closet and a few clean clothes on the chair and some on the floor didn't remind you that much of a "pigsty", but okay.

This, however, may be wavering towards that side of the spectrum.

At least five pairs of shoes were scattered throughout your room, dirty clothes lay on your bed and the floor- some accidentally mixed with your clean clothes, and those casually sat on your chair, begging to be put away. Yeah, it was bad. Fortunately, you have the rest of the week to clean it. You only take three days worth of classes a week (you had lined up your classes so that you wouldn't have to work all the time), so you were able to have the other days completely off. Mondays (ick), Wednesdays and Thursdays. It was kind of wonky trying to get used to it, but you made it work.

Meanwhile, Sans seemed to be working once a week. At first, he was going to a class at least once a day, and you'd see him every now and then. Then, he just started appearing more and more. You assumed that he probably was smart enough that they just told him to quit the class. You didn't know what the deal was. In any case, he seemed pretty relaxed about it. "eh, it's school with me if i don't have to go all the time," he joked one time.

You took a bit of time to work on cleaning your room- making sure to remember where any important papers were placed- and eventually gave up. You just didn't feel like it.

You sometimes had days like this. Days when you felt just... blegh. You weren't sure if it was part of your depression or just a thing, but it bothered you every now and then. It used to be a lot more frequent in high-school, where you would wake up and just sit there. These days always worried your mom, since she was always looking for any times where you might be not doing well.

Everything just feels... pointless on these days. Maybe the moment you realized that there was no reason to do anything is when the depression hit. That moment enabled you to... well.

Don't think about it. Just... maybe go play some Pyro? Or something? Just... get your mind off it. Don't let it get to you. Grunting, you shove yourself off your bed, where you had abruptly flopped as you gave up on cleaning. You made a weird sound with your throat to try and release stress. Sounded like a pterodactyl screech or some shit. It was fun to do when you were in a mood.

As you stepped outside your room, you witnessed a tired-looking Sans opening the door. You waved at him half-heartedly while you forced yourself to walk over to the couch. "Hey, Sans. How was class?"

"it'd be more fun if the professor could get his facts straight, but it's alright." There were shadows under his eyes. Is he getting any sleep? "whatcha doin'?" You glanced back at the blank TV screen.

"Uh... nothing, really. Just... Yeah."

"well, would you like to go somewhere to eat instead of eating leftover spaghetti?" You raised a brow. That sounded interesting to you. "i know a guy... he owns a place above-ground that's identical to his old place. serves good fast-food. he's a monster like me."

"Sure. Let me just get some shoes on." He patiently waits while you quickly throw on a pair of black flats in your room, and run back in. "Alright, do you want to drive or shall I?"

"i should probably drive, since i've been there many more times than you. you don't mind scooters, do you?" You shrug. Your brother owned a motorcycle (he named it Dexter), and whenever he picked you up from school to take you home, you would always ride on it. He would never let you drive it, but he would let you ride... as long as you wouldn't tell Mom. She would throw a fit if she knew he had a motorcycle.

Sans heads out to the car garage to go and grab the scooter, while you turn off the lights and lock up the apartment. As you walk to the exit, you can see Sans waiting out front with a lime green scooter. "paps said i had to get a proper bike and tried to buy me a motorcycle. i wanted a bicycle. we ended up compromising, and when i saw this one, i told him i biked this scooter. he yelled at me, but bought it anyways." He chuckled. "here. i've heard that humans need some form of safety on these, so i got a helmet." He hands you a... bright pink helmet. Wow.

"I would pay to see you in this," you joked as you pulled it over your head. You attempt to hold onto his waist, and panick a little as you realize that there's not much to grab onto. It's... air. "Fuck."

He looks back for a second, confused. Then, a look of realization comes over his eyes. "oh, right, right. my bad, sorry. try now." You tentatively try again, and gasp when you feel a sudden softness. It felt just like skin, but it... wasn't? You so badly wanted to look and see what it was, but that just... no.

"Magic?" You ask.

"yup. hope you like eighties, 'cause i can't change the music to anything else," he snorts. He turns on the music, and you can hear the start of We Didn't Start the Fire by Billy Joel. Good music. Damn, you hadn't listened to eighties in a long time.

What a great time for music.

As he starts to drive out of the car garage, you relax a little, gently hugging onto him. It reminded you of Chris, in a way.

Looking upwards, you can see the sky setting, with painted hues of oranges, purples, blues and pinks. It was pacifying, knowing that the evening was coming. Some wispy clouds scattered throughout added to the painted appearance. Meanwhile, a mixture of cars and scooters raced past on the road, headed towards the next light. You smiled. It was a calming feeling, and it wasn't... loud.

Eventually, Sans breaks out of the garage into the flow of traffic, and you feel a breeze, soft against your bare arms. There's a slight draft into the helmet that allows a little coolness to reach your face, but overall, it's kind of warm in the helmet. You so badly want to take it off, but safety demands you wear a helmet. Who are you to argue with safety?

The song ends, and the next song is Love Shack. "Holy shit, this song," you laugh, your voice lost in the wind. Singing along, you try to match the singer's lower voice. "You see a faded sign at the side of the road, it says fifteen miles to the looooooooooooove shaaaack!" You giggle, and you could swear you heard Sans laugh a little. He turns it up a little more. Now, you're allowing your head to actually bop a little to the beat, laughing and smiling. It just was so fun, and silly.

You were riding on a lime green scooter, wearing a bright pink helmet, holding onto a messy, tired skeleton while listening to eighties music. What a world we're living in.

There was definitely some charm to the college you and Sans attended. Along both sides of the road, there were restaurants, stores, and all sorts of things in between to look in at. Some of them were more popular- you weren't surprised to see a Moonbucks there at all- but a decent amount were places you wouldn't find anywhere else. They looked older than the modern, sleeker store fronts you saw in more urban areas, and the colors painted years ago had started fading a little. While most would see a place falling into disrepair, you saw streets filled with history and the nostalgia of less modern times.

Grillby gave you a little bit of an older vibe, with all the popularity of a newer restaurant. The restaurant stood on the corner, away from other places, and at first, all you could see was a chocolate-colored building with gold-yellow lights. As you rode around the corner, you saw in the same color as the lights: GRILLBY'S. Next to it, it showed a moving-light image of a bright purple-and-blue martini. "grillbz added that recently due to his daughter's suggestion. a few more humans took well to that, and he's gotten a little bit more business," Sans said, noticing your gaze drifting towards it. "it doesn't make a difference to me. grillby's is grillby's, with or without the martini's."

He parked in front of the restaurant on the street, and you pulled the helmet off. Oh, good lord... you could feel the static pulling your hair up on the roof of it. "My hair's probably so frizzy now," you grumbled. It was a cheerful grumble though- as long as Sans was right and the food was good, frizzy hair wouldn't mean a thing. You pulled your hair back into a quick ponytail, and gently tugged out some of the short hairs on your sides to make your hair look kind of nice.

"my hair's probably frizzy too," Sans grinned. You glared at him. "hey, why do you think i have a comb with me?" he pulled out a pink comb, and you just shook your head. This guy...

As you step in, you can hear a jukebox playing rockabilly music in the corner. Hell yeah. There were booths on the sides, and some tables in the middle. A bar was at the back, where a fire-monster was standing cleaning a glass. The laughter and chatter of the restaurant hit your ears, and you smiled a little. There were a lot of monsters there, but there were a few humans there with them, red-faced and laughing.

Sans rests his arm around your shoulder, and his eyes are sparkling. He's practically beaming as he steps inside and says, "welcome to grillby's, kid."

"Sans, I'm the same fucking age as you."

"yup." You two chuckle as you make your way over to the bar.

As you get closer, you get a better look at the bartender. You assumed that he was the namesake of the restaurant, considering how he looked. Sans confirms this as he sits on the chair and says, "hey, grillbz. brought that dorm-mate i mentioned here today. y/n, this is grillby. grillbz, this is y/n." You casually wave at him, smiling. Grillby waves back.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Y/N." He looked like an old-fashioned bartender, wearing a black vest over a long-sleeved shirt. A black armband adorns both arms near his shoulder. Meanwhile, his head is literally fire. If it had been any other day, you may have been a little freaked out by this, but on a day like today, you literally didn't give a fuck. If the guy wants his head on fire, then his head's on fire.

"Likewise, Mr. Grillby." You glance at the menu behind him, looking to see what sounds good. The place had fast-food like any other place, but something that really caught your eye was the drinks. Now, you understood you were under-age... but what if monster drinks were different? Was the legal drinking age different? Would he I.D. you? (AN: please don't be like reader. please don't be like reader. please don't be like reader.)

You looked away from the drinks momentarily, and glanced at the menu. You could hear a really catchy song in the background. You quickly asked your phone, "What song is playing?"

"Let me listen." You look at the screen. At the Hop by Danny & The Juniors, huh? This is really fucking catchy. Sans peers over at your phone, and gives you a "seriously?" look. You laugh sheepishly. "Sorry, it's a habit." You quickly screen-shot the image so you can add it to your music later, and continue looking at the menu.

Sans recommends the fries or the burger. "they're worth a fry," he smirks. "what grill you choose?"

"Hey, hey, don't go throwing all your food puns out immediately," you say, playfully shoving Sans. He raises an eyebrow(???), and says, "intentional or unintentional?"


"'throwing all your food puns out'?" You snort. You hadn't even thought of that. "Damn, you got me." You sit there laughing with him for a few seconds.

Grillby, meanwhile, is patiently waiting for you to make a decision. "I'm sorry about that, uh, I would like... uh, the fries, please. I would like to-" Another snort. "-to fry them." You and Sans start howling, and you're banging your hand against the bar. It seems like a few people nearby also heard your joke, as laughter spread contagiously throughout the restaurant. It was just... such a happy place.

Sans, still chortling at the reused joke, said, "yeah, grillbz, and it wouldn't burnt to get a burg!" At this point, you're dying a little on the inside. You're having a little difficulty breathing, you're laughing so damn hard. "oh, sans any mustard, please!" You're coughing. It's fucking hilarious.

"Wait, Sans, give him a second to ketchup!" You shout, holding up the ketchup that's sitting on the bar.

You notice that Grillby has disappeared into the kitchen. You roar with laughter. Either you're slap-happy or this is really funny.

Probably both.

Sans wipes a fake tear from his eye. "that was beautiful," he stage-whispers, his smile wider than ever before. "god, you're a riot. where did this even come from?"

"My funny-bone."

"well, you're pretty damn humerus." I'm gonna die of laughter, you think to yourself.

"Oh, stop, you're making me blush," you jokingly say, fanning yourself. You were crying at this point. You hadn't laughed this hard in months.


It's just you and Sans in the restaurant at this point. You were pretty sure it closed hours ago, but Grillby has been tolerating your presence. You don't know how, really, but you didn't mind. After all, you were having a blast.

At one point during the meal, you decide to experiment a little. Normally, you avoid ketchup like the plague, but you wanted to try something different. So, you tried to put a little bit of ketchup on your plate. Well, some smart-ass (aka Sans, the mofo he was) decided to loosen the cap. Like, entirely. So, you ended up having the entire bottle poured onto your beautiful, golden fries. After that, Sans (laughingly) apologized, and gave you his fries in exchanged for the drenched ones. You didn't know how anyone could eat fries with that much ketchup on it, but you didn't question it.

If he wants to eat nasty, moist fries, then let him eat the fucking fries. You sure as hell weren't going to.

"--and then, then i said to him, 'hey, that's not your wife, that's me!'" Your laughter echoed throughout the empty building, the only other sound being Grillby's crackling head. It was a nice contrast to the constant noise while the other customers were there. You had a slight head-ache, not gonna lie, but it was worth it.

You glance up at Grillby, who's cleaning a glass. "Hey, uh, Grillby?" He looks at you. "Do you think I could try one of the drinks on your menu?"


"Ah, Grillby, don't make this card for me!" More laughter. You realize he's serious. "Oh... alright..." You pull out your I.D.

"I cannot serve alcohol to under-age customers, Miss Y/N." You groan a little in disappointment. "A few more years."

"Oh, alright... Okay." You sigh. He was right, of course. You shouldn't be drinking at eighteen. And yet, you so badly wanted to see what his weird drinks tasted like. Three more years. Three more years... You glance at Sans, who is chugging ketchup.

He finishes, and wipes his... teeth with his sleeve. "hey, grillbz, put it on my tab." He slides off the chair, and yawns. "alright, y/n, you ready to go back to the dorm?"

"Yeah, sounds good. But, I'm gonna pay you back at some point!"

"nah, don't worry aboudit."


"please. it's my treat. you looked like you were having a rough day, so i figured i would take you out to eat." You smile. That's very sweet of him.

"Thanks, Sans."

"alright, well, don't thank me yet- we still need to drive back, and i'm not gonna lie, i may be a slight bit, uh... what do you humans call it... buzzed, tipsy? Slightly under the influence?"

"How the fuck-"

"ketchup." So he's an alcoholic? "it has a strange effect on monsters. for humans, it's absolutely normal. however, there's something in there that messes with monsters like, uh, what you humans call alcohol. i don't care for the, uh, 'alcohol' portion, but i love the flavor of the ketchup." You nod. That makes sense.

You sigh, and hold out your hand. "Give me the keys, I can drive." He peers at your hand for a second, but gives you the keys anyways. You smile at him, and then at Grillby. "Have a good night, Grillby." He nods.

You see the green scooter still sitting at the same place, bike helmet still attached. However, you notice a yellow sticky-note attached: "KILL ALL MONSTERS! SEND THEM BACK TO MOUNT EBOTT!" You scoff, a little pissed. You yank the note off, crumble it up, and debate on whether or not to place it in the recycling bin. "You know what, you don't deserve that sort of chance to redeem yourself," you mutter, tossing it into the trash can like a normal person.

Walking back, you see Sans slightly slumped over, holding himself up with one arm on the scooter. "sorry," he grins, "it hits harder after a little bit." You roll your eyes, and hold the helmet out to him. "Put it on."

"or what?"

"Or I'll leave you here at Grillby's."

"you're all bark and no bike," he chuckles. He puts the helmet on anyways. You get onto the scooter, and he gets on behind you. As you turn on the engine, Hungry Like the Wolf blasts out of the speakers. You wince a little as you lower the volume. Meanwhile, Sans latches onto you, like a little boney backpack. You can feel him falling asleep, and you almost want to blast the music again to keep him awake.

It's the end of Hungry Like the Wolf that had blasted out, and the next song was You Make My Dreams. Very peppy for the end of the night. As you start driving towards the dorm, you can hear Sans quietly humming along, gently hugging tighter. It was like he wanted to cuddle or something.


You let it go, anyways. When you're tired, you like to cuddle too, so you can't particularly judge.

It was really dark out, and harder to see street names. You still managed to arrive at the dorm, though. Meanwhile, Sans had actually fallen asleep on the ride back, and you grunted as you tried to get up off the scooter. "Come on," you mutter to yourself, trying to push up. "Come on...."

"hey, sweetheart. you need some help with that skeleton right there?"

You didn't like the sound of that.

Chapter Text

"sweetheart?" You're quiet for a few seconds. You didn't want to turn around and see who this stranger was, and unfortunately, with Sans on your back, you couldn't even if you did. So, you were kind of stuck there. With a stranger. A male stranger. Fuck.

Finally, you answer cheerfully, "I'm good, but thank you!"

"believe me, i know how heavy that mofo is. i can help." God, I don't want your help. Please go away.

"And believe me, I don't need-" you grunt as you force yourself off the scooter, Sans slipping a little. You quickly push him up so that he doesn't fall. "-any help, but thank you...." You turn around to see a taller skeleton. He thicc, you noticed. And not just chubby- there was definitely some sort of muscular bone formation on him. "Uh..."

He reminded you of a sharper, edgier version of Sans. He wore a black, plushy jacket with a spiky, yellow fur at the hood around his waste, and a red tank. Meanwhile, he wore almost exactly the same shorts as Sans, except a yellow stripe instead of white. His shoes were a pair of black, yellow, and red sneakers.

That's before you even saw his face, however. His eyes... Sans has white eyelights, soft and clean inside his eyesockets. Meanwhile, this edgy fucker had red eyelights, bright and looking you over. His teeth were sharp as hell, along with a gold tooth replacing one. He's a fighter, I'm guessing. That's how he lost his tooth, your mind whispered. He raised an eyebrow. "see something you like, dollface?"

"N-no! I mean, yes- ugh!" You could already tell you weren't going to get along with this bastard. "Please just leave me alone. Please. I don't need you bothering me." He laughs. His voice is definitely a little deeper than Sans, and has a slight accent. New York? Brooklyn?

"ah, don't get all worked up, sweetheart. i'm not here to antagonize ya."

"Good, then that means you'll go away?"


"Oh. Good. Thanks." Love that. Okay.

As you walk over to the elevator (which you never use usually), you struggle to reach for the button, since you're also trying to carry Sans at the same time. "looks like you're having some problems there, sweetheart," the stranger comments, grinning. Cocky bastard.

"Nope, I'm absolutely- dandy!" Sans is slipping, Sans is slipping, Sans is slipping! "Ah! Fongool!" You struggle trying to hold him up, and as you're doing this, the stranger casually paces around till he's standing in front of you.

"you know, sweetheart, if you weren't acting so high-and-mighty ("High and mighty?" you gasp, insulted), i would try 'n help ya. but, y'know, if you don't need help..." He gazes into your face. Cocky fucking bastard.


"I don't want your help," you hiss, trying to appear threatening. Of course, this did diddly-shit, because he's one of those guys. "I don't want anything but for you to leave me alone."

"you injure me."

"Good. Maybe that'll teach you to leave women alone when they say they don't want your attention." You completely ignore the fact that he was being sarcastic. Meanwhile, you've managed to more or less drape Sans back on you, and you kick the elevator button. It lights up. Sans grumbles a little, obviously struggling with staying asleep. You were impressed he'd stayed asleep all this time, but you guessed he probably didn't get that much on a normal basis.

You walk into the elevator. The asshole follows you in. You sigh.

"Please, just go away."

"hey, you're not the only one with a dorm here, sweetheart," he snorts.

"There's another elevator."

"but this one's already here, and there's only two people in there." He had a valid point. You just didn't want to admit it to his smug-ass face. So, you stood there stonily. You attempted to touch your button. And failed.


Eventually, the asshole sighs. "i'll do it. it's, uh, the fourth floor, right?" Grumbling to yourself, you nod your head.

He presses the button. "Well, wait, which floor do you live on?" Please tell me you're not on the same floor as me.

"didn't think you wanted to follow me home, sweetheart," he smirked. You glared at him. He coughed a little, and said, "but, if you must know, i live on the sixth floor." You nod. Good.

You awkwardly stand in the elevator. Could this go any slower? You think. Meanwhile, the asshole is staring at you. Again. You could see he wasn't looking at your face, that was for sure. "Please, keep your eyes to yourself and stop mentally undressing me," you snarl.

"sweetheart, what am i supposed to look at? the spider on the ceiling?" He stopped looking anyways.

A few more seconds of silence. Still only the second floor. No one else comes in.

"red." You pretend you didn't hear. He probably was thinking out loud. "red." See, there it is again. Red. What the hell is red?

Aside, you responded, "Pink."

The guy bursts out in laughter. "no- i- that wasn't what i fucking meant, oh my god-"

"Look, what's so damn funny?"

"red's my name, sweetheart."

"Maybe it should be Pink instead." He continues laughing. Prick. "Look, why are you-"

"okay, i'm not sure what exactly i did-" You gave him a look. "-besides the elevator thing just now, but i've just been trying to give help, lady. i feel like we've gotten off on the wrong foot, and i want to fix that.

"so, i figured i should start with my name. it's red." You're silent for a few moments as the olive branch is extended. He's trying to apologize for being an ass.

Yeah, but I really don't give a fuck. "Mmm." Red looks at you for a few seconds hopefully, and when he doesn't get the response he hoped for, he dejectedly looked at the floor. Don't feel bad, don't feel bad, he's just trying to guilt you-

"Y/N." He looks up, surprise flickering across his eyes. You sigh. "My name's Y/N."

"y/n, huh?"

"Yep. Don't wear it out." He chuckles.

"well, i hope we get a chance to meet again, y/n. hopefully, on better terms than in the car garage with sans falling asleep on you. maybe dinner one day, a movie?" He says all this as the elevator door opens. An electronic voice announces what the floor is. You walk out, and turn around to face Red.

"Maybe. I'll see you around..." you pause for a second, a smirk taking over your facial features. "...Pink."

He roared with laughter as the elevator doors closed, and you walked back to the dorm, a grin on your face, until you thought about what just happened. "Wait, what the f-" you say, turning around quickly. But the smooth motherfucker was gone, and you were left standing there with many questions and a very grumpy sleeping Sans.

Chapter Text

The next morning, you're working on making some eggs, when Sans casually walks into the kitchen, sits at the make-shift bar, and slams his head on the bar. "fuuuuuuck..." he mutters as he picks his head back up. You give him a look of sympathy.

"Well, that's what you get for getting drunk off ketchup-"

"please don't talk so loud." Ah, right. Hangovers. Headaches. He sat there, clutching his head, while you continued cooking eggs on the stove. You seasoned them with some salt and pepper, and put them onto two plates.

He takes his hand off his skull when you put one of the plates down in front of him. "So," you say in a quieter voice, "I don't know if you noticed, but we're kind of running low on food. Both of us. And I have some things I need to pick up. Now, I know you're not up for going out, since you're... but, uh, I can go out for you." What are you, his wife? It's his fault for not taking care of it. Don't worry about it.

He flashed a grateful, pained smile. "if you could, that would be fantastic."

"What would you like?"

"eh. just get me whatever you're getting. and some, uh, ketchup please."

"Sans, ketchup is what gave you your hangover."

"okay, i'll tell you the truth. grillbz sometimes spikes the ketchup at his place, and he tends to forget which bottles are spiked."

"Smells like bullshit."

"it's the truth, whether you believe me or not." You sigh.

"Fine. I'll get you some ketchup." You put a pair of flip-flops on, and grab your light-mauve sweater. You were only wearing a tank and some short sporty shorts from Angelica's Secret, and you didn't need anyone seeing your butt- fortunately, the sweater was pretty over-sized, and soft. It casually draped off one shoulder, while completely covering the other, but you didn't mind. You grabbed your black cross-body purse and slipped it over your head. "I'll be back in a few hours."

"wait." You glance back at him, a brow raised. He points at the key holder by the door. "you can take my scooter if you want."

"Nah, it's fine, I don't need-"

"it has a lot of hidden space underneath the seat. i installed a dimensional box so that I can transport stuff in there. there might be a few items in there, but you should be able to fit all the groceries in there." You sigh. "please. it's the least i can do since you drove me home last night."

You grab the keys to the scooter. You notice a key-chain attached that looks a lot like a locket. You don't open it though. Invasion of privacy. Not gonna be an asshole and do that. "Get some sleep, drink some water. Wait-" You whirl around to face the skeleton. "Do you have any classes today? Is today your day?"

"uh... what's today?"

"It's. Um... hold on, give me a second," you say as you fumble with the pocket of your sweater. You pull at your phone, and look at the screen. "It's a Saturday."

"nope." You relax.

"Alright, just wanted to check." You open the door and step out. "I'll see you later Sans. Feel better." You give him a soft smile as you close the door.

Alright. Time to go to the scooter and figure out this... dimensional box thing. You walk over to the elevator and press the down button. It takes a few second, and you take a moment to put up your short black-brown hair.

Your hair hadn't always been like this. During high-school, you had struggled with having longer, brown hair. It annoyed the fuck out of you, 'cause it'd always been so damn thick. So, at the end of your senior year, you finally went to the hairstylist and asked her to cut most of it off, as well as give bangs and dye your hair black. The dye didn't turn out exactly black, but it was close enough that you didn't mind. It was kind of like a rite of passage, in your opinion, a way to start off brand new once you got into college.

Your hair was still kind of short, so when you tried to pull your hair back, a few of the lower hairs fell out, but the rest pulled back, and you peered at the metallic-reflection of the elevator doors until they opened. You stepped inside, and pressed the garage button. Meanwhile, you looked over to see someone else was standing there, looking tired as hell.

It was Burgerpants, a cat monster who lives a ridiculously busy life. You wave at the frowning cat, giving a pitying smile, and he waves back. "Hey, bud."

"Hey BP. Another long day with the big M?"

"More like a big b," he mutters under his breath, but he smiles and shrugs. "Yep. Turns out he's trying to recruit some models for his new line-" he breaks into a ridiculously fake happy expression- "'MTT Brand's Body Slimming Human Clothes(tm)! Wear it to showcase that fabbbbulous body you have!' Oh, please. We all know the models you're using are already thin, and they're gonna be computer-edited in the commercials anyways, god-dammit. Who are you trying to fool?" He sighs. "Damn capitalism..."

You frown. "He's still having you work despite your classes?"

The monster laughs bitterly. "Yeah, well, 'MTT Brand doesn't wait for anything, including classes'. If you want to try and stop him, be my guest, but I'm gonna tell you right now that he won't give a shit." He smiles tiredly. "Just take my advice: don't be like me, Y/N. Don't get stuck in the clutches of a celebrity."

The elevator doors open. Burgerpants gestures for you to get out before him, and you give a grateful smile. "Well, good luck with surviving through the day, BP. Things will get better, don't worry." He laughs again, but it sounds a little less sad.

"Take your own advice, Y/N." You shrug, grinning.

That's something that you share with Burgerpants. You both suffer from depression, so you've worked together to try and help each other out to the best of your abilities. If he ever has a really bad day, he has your number. On a few different occasions, he has called you to just talk, vent, and release any steam. It makes life a little easier for both of you, even if neither of you like to talk about your feelings on a normal basis.

Burgerpants heads over to the opposite side of the garage, and you head back to where you parked the scooter last night. The lime green scooter sat there, as bright as ever. Meanwhile, the neon pink helmet sat there, waiting for you to put it on. Fuck that, you think. (AN: don't be like reader.) I'm not wearing you today. (AN: please don't be like reader.) You grab the helmet, and open the seat to see a... void.

Well, that's not weird at all.

You toss the helmet in, and watch as the black absorb it. "Alright, let's go," you say to yourself, as you shut the seat. Swinging your leg over to the other side, you turn on the scooter, and Don't You Want Me by The Human League began to blast out of the speaker. You smile to yourself. "Now here's a good jam... movie wasn't that good though."

With that, you headed out of the garage, and into the traffic. It would take you about ten minutes to get to the grocery store, so you would have enough time for two songs at the least. Ah, well, that was good enough for you. You smiled as you rode through the streets, the music blasting out. "The five years we have had have been such good times. I still love you! But now I think it's time I live my life on my own, I guess it's just what I must do- Don't. Don't you want me," You hollered along with the music, laughing.

You got to the stop light, and continued singing along, casually looking around. You could see some drivers nearby were giving you weird looks for a few seconds, but you didn't care enough. After all, you were having fun, and if they don't know how, then that's their problem. Geez Louise, you're so damn considerate, your mind thought sarcastically.

If I want to listen to eighties music, then I'm going to listen to fucking eighties music.

"Don't you want me, babay? Don't you want me, ohhhhhhhHhhh! Don't you want me babay! Don't you want me, ohhhhHHhHHHHh!"


You fucking love eighties music.

As you park the bright green scooter, you pull your hairband out for a quick second. You had a seriously bad-case of wind-blown hair, messy strands sticking out everywhere. Quickly, you run your fingers through your hair, and tear up at a little when yanking at some small knotted hairs. And this is why I need to wear a helmet, you think wryly. Not because it's safe, but because my hair won't get knotted. (AN: reader is dumb, ignore her) After a few seconds of ripping out hair, you eventually give up and pull it back again.

A cart was waiting outside the grocery store, abandoned by someone who didn't put it away. Perfect for you, however, and you took it. Smiling, you headed into the grocery store, and began shopping.
Your list was pretty long, so you knew you were probably gonna be at the grocery store for a least an hour, maybe longer. Your eyes scanned over the list you had written out- you didn't like writing a list in Notes app. "Let me see... I need..."

"some company?" A rough hand casually rested on your shoulder, and you whipped around to see...


Mother. Trucker.

You frown. "Surprisingly, that is not on this list. Might be on yours though." He laughs. "Okay, but why are you here?"

"this is a grocery store, right?" You nod. "then i'm here to get groceries. same as anyone else in here, except the employees. but, ah, don't let me shop you from taking care of your list. i'll just be getting some items of my own." Smooth motherfucker, you think to yourself. You roll your eyes, and start walking to the produce section.

You start to look at some strawberries. Fortunately, they were in season, so you were planning on grabbing some to wash at home. Unfortunately, a certain someone seemed to also be interested in the strawberries.

You considered it just... a coincidence.

You grabbed a pack of them, and then went over to the apples.

He followed.

This pattern continued after a while, until you walked over to some potatoes, and whipped around. "A-ha! Caught-" An elderly man was standing behind you. Not Red. You blinked for a few seconds. The man looked a little alarmed, as he held his hands up. Smooth motherfucker. "Ah, sorry, sir. I thought... someone I knew was following me." You casually noticed you were wielding a potato as a weapon, and you placed it back with the others. Whoops.

"B-be careful, young lady," the old man stated, shaking a little. "I di-d see someone following you." Your eyes narrowed as you furrowed your brow. That... asshole. You quickly plastered a smile on your face. "Thank you, sir! I'll make sure to keep an eye out!"

You watched him walk away for a few seconds, and then a frown firmly placed itself on your face. "Asshat," you hiss under your breath. You turn back around to the potatoes, and see Red casually looking at them. You give a little shriek of frustration, and his eyes look alarmed. "sweetheart?"

It took all your willpower not to punch another one of his teeth out. "Why. Are you. Following me?" Clenching your teeth, you maintained eye contact while feeling the different potatoes. There was no way in hell you weren't getting an answer. He had better tell you what the fuck his deal was, or there was a good chance you were going to report him to the police or some shit.

"i'm not following you."

"Bull fucking shit." He raised a brow.

"i'm not."

"Then, what would you call the fact that you were following me around to everything I was looking at?"

"alright, i'll explain. you realize i'm a monster, yeah?" You frown. What is he getting at?


"then you realize that there's a low chance of me ever having gone to a grocery store, right?"


"....okay, look. i've never been to a grocery store before, i saw you were going in, and my bro sent me to pick up some food. he didn't say what, i saw you knew what the hell you were doin', so i figured, ''ey, maybe she'll help me out'. of course, if i am bothering you that much..." he started to droop a little. "i guess i won't be able to get my brother any food, since i don't know where it is. he'll be so disappointed in me..."

You stare at him for a few seconds. "You little shit. You're trying to guilt me." Your eyes widen. And it might be working. You rub your face with your hand. "Ugh... okay, I'll help you out, but you need to stop following me. That's creepy, and if I were anyone else, I might have reported you to the police." He smiles.

"you got it, sweetheart."

"And stop calling me that."


"You know what."

"okay, dollface."


"You're insufferable, you know that right? Fine, goddammit."


True to your word, you go ahead and help Red with grocery shopping. While his sob story about never having gone to a store before sounded like utter bullshit, he did a damn good job of playing it off as real. He seemed very confused by how it all worked, what different items were, etc. "so... this is basically a container of pasta?" he said, holding up a cardboard box filled with spaghetti.


"damn, i didn't realize it..." Whatever he was about to say, he didn't finish. He just grabbed ten boxes, and tossed them into his cart. "alright, uh, what do you usually eat with pasta? because i think the idea my bro has about pasta may be a little... incorrect."

Confused, you say, "What do you mean? It's not difficult to mess up pasta." He frowned.

"now, i wouldn't say he messes it up. just... causes a very a minor case of major indigestion." Your eyes widen.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"please tell me humans don't actually put entire bottles of vinegar in their pasta, along with heating them up at the highest temperature possible?" If your eyes weren't popping out of your head, you would be shocked. What the actual fuck?

"That sounds, uh... intriguing. No. We don't." The big skeleton heaves a sigh of relief.

"that's comforting. now to actually make sure he doesn't cook it like that anymore..."

You sigh a little to yourself. You were really close to offering to come visit and teach his brother how to properly cook, but you didn't really want to visit. "Uh..."

"one thing's for sure: i'm not buying him anymore vinegar. he cannot be trusted to use it properly," he smirks. You chuckle a little, which causes him to smile a little. "anyways... so like i said. what do ya usually use with pasta?"

"Well... you can eat it plain, but some people like it with salt, pepper, butter, marinara sauce..." He gave you a blank expression. Does he... does he not know what marinara sauce is? "Uh... tomato sauce. Salt and pepper are season-- spices, and butter's unhealthy." Recognition appears in his eyes, and he nods. "Here, the marinara-- tomato sauce, sorry-- is right here. There's different types, but..." You pull out a can. "This is the type I prefer, but you may want something else."

"eh, i trust your judgement." He starts to toss it into the cart, but you quickly grab the can out of the air. He gives you a questioning look.

"You... may not want to toss cans in," you casually recommend, giving an uncomfortable smile. "It could break or something. Just... I may be a little paranoid but just... put it in."

Red scoffs. "i'm not dumb, sweetheart."

"Never said you were." You place the can in his hand, which was at least a few inches larger than yours. "Just giving some advice." He rolls his eyes, and you hear him mumble something along the lines of "okay mom", but you didn't react. He puts it in gently. You also grab some spaghetti and marinara sauce, thinking that Sans might want some for dinner tonight.

Speaking of Sans... how is he? You quickly pull out your phone, and while Red puts in more tomato sauce (you had no idea why he would need so much- maybe bigger portions?), you pull up your messages.

1 new message from meme master.

meme master: hey, just wanted to check on you

You smile. That was sweet of him- most people don't text you unless they need something.

y/n: I'm fine. Ran into a

You glance up at Red mid-type, not sure what to call him.

y/n: I'm fine. Ran into a friend while shopping, so it may take a little longer

y/n: How are you feeling?

You wait for him to respond, seeing the three dots pop up. Then, your phone went off with a message from him.

meme master: still got a headache. dorm room upstairs must be bowling or something, because there's a lot of loud noise

y/n: Have you reported it

meme master: nah

y/n: Why not?

You feel a hand rest on your shoulder, and you glance to your right to see Red peering over your shoulder. He grins at you. "who ya talkin' to?"

You turn off your phone. "Nonya."

"non-my business?"

"You got it."

He snaps his fingers in faux-disappointment. "damn, hoped you would talk to me a little more about your friends." He raised a brow, and a teasing gaze appeared in his eyes. "was it a certain hungover skeleton?"

Your mouth gapes. "Uh-"

"it is." You frown at him, and close your mouth. "what's he sayin'? whinin' about his headache? askin' for you to get his groceries like a good little housewife?" Fuming, you feel your face turning red with embarrassment and anger.

"Let me get one thing straight." You grab the collar of his shirt, and yank him towards you in an attempt to intimidate him. Unfortunately, you use a little too much force...
...and you accidentally kiss him.


You quickly pull away, and if your face wasn't red before, it was now. Meanwhile, he looked bewildered, and what looked like a red blush was covering his face. You cough a little in discomfort, and try again. "Let me, uh, get one thing straight." Your eyes grow cold. "I am no one's housewife. Call me that again, and you're gonna need more than one gold tooth in that cock-sucking, asshole smile of yours." He grins.

"yeah? make sure you punch one out for each letter of your name so i can write it on 'em." You shove him away, your face bright red as a tomato.

Walking away, you grab your grocery cart with a new-found determination. "h-hey, sweetheart, don't get upset!" The bastard called after you, laughing. "it's just a joke!"

You whip around to face him, and if looks could kill, he'd be a dead man. "Maybe to you." With that, you continue grocery-shopping, and any more attempts to gain your attention were futile.

He simply was not worth your time.

Chapter Text

You toss the helmet in, and watch the black absorb it. "Wait, but how the fuck do you even get it back out," you comment to yourself, a look of disbelief and worry breaking out on your face. You reach your hand in, and feel- nothing? NANI THE FUCK-

"Wait, uh..." You put your hand to your head. "Okay, um... maybe... I have to say it? Uh, I want the helmet?" Nothing happened. "Give me? The helmet?" Nothing happened. "Uh, helmet sesame?" Nothing happened. Grumbling, you reach your hand into the void, and hiss out of gritted teeth, "Give me. The gOD-DAMN-" A helmet was thrust out of the void and slammed into your face. You fell backwards shouting, and you quickly shoved your hands out behind you to catch yourself.

Fuck that hurts

You suck in a breath, and shakily lower yourself to the ground. Once you felt your lower half touch the gravel of the floor, you quickly scanned over your hands. They were red and bloody with scraped skin, with some pieces of gravel in them. "Fuck," you hiss. Note to self: Buy some band-aids and use them immediately. Or, even better, gauze. Yes. Gauze. And alcohol. Your gaze shot over to the seat, and any feelings of pain were briefly dismissed in turn for a better emotion: anger.

"Um, whAT THE FUCK?" You yell, staring daggers at the seat. "I mean, look at my hands! This is your fault!" You show your hands to the void, as if it actually cares. "Please tell me you have some sort of bandages, or something-"

You felt something warm hit your face a little more gently, and you carefully pinch it with your index and thumb to look at it. A plain grey t-shirt. It was balled up, and inside of it, you found a pair of scissors. "Alright, I guess that'll do... Thanks," you grudgingly say to the void. I'm talking to blank space. How tired am I?

You quickly get to work on cutting the t-shirt up into long strands of fabric, and you carefully wrap them around your palms. It hurt a little, but it would be beneficial in the long run. "Wait a mother-fucking second- who the hell thought it was a good idea to make the floor gravel?!" You yell at no one. "I mean, what the actual fucking hell?" (AN: that's a fantastic question reader) Most car garages' bottom floor were dirt, and yet some stupid mofo thought to make the floor gravel. Okay.

After you tied the fabric around your hands, you threw the helmet, scissors, and last pieces of fabric into the void. Then, you started up the scooter. Your hands ached in extreme pain as you grabbed the handles, but there wouldn't be much you could do in the dorm. You needed something.


The drive was about fifteen minutes, and by the time you got to the grocery store, your hands burned like fire, and some blood was soaking through the fabric. "Okay," you hiss to yourself. "First things first: bring the fabric and scissors in, and head straight to the bathroom." You ask the void for the two resources, and it was spat out onto the smooth, dark floor of the parking lot. You shoved them into your purse to the best of your ability, and they stuck out a little bit. You didn't mind.

As you walk into the store, you look for the bathroom. "C'mon, bathroom, bathroom..." you whisper to yourself, as you turn around...

And see Red.

Mother. Fucker.

He didn't see you at first, since he's looking at some strawberries. Before you can walk away, however, he spots you, and a snarky grin sneaks onto his face. "hey, sweetheart. didn't think we'd see each other so soon. you must really like me, huh?"

"You think too highly of yourself," you retorted, as you spotted a bathroom. "Look, I can't talk right now, but, uh, I'll be back." Before you can escape, he grabs your arm. You freeze for a second as he raises it up to his face, staring at your wrapped hand. He looks down, and he spots your other hand. He grabs the other one, and looks at that one, his eyelights getting... smaller.

"what happened?"

"I fell."


"Yes, dumbass. Now let my arms go," you grumble, trying to pull away from him. "That's why I need to take care of them really quick before we talk." He lets go of one arm, but the other is still held up in the air.

"no one... hurt you?"

"Nope. Unless you consider the void sentient and trying to murder me by throwing a helmet at my face," you wryly respond. "Otherwise, it was pretty much me being an idiot." Red's eyes communicated a frown, and you sigh. "Please let go. I need to wash out some gravel from my hands before they get infected."

"you want me to buy you some gauze, neosporin, that shit?" You blink a little, surprised. You didn't expect him to so willingly offer to buy you something tell help out, and yet, here he was, showing concern. He had let go of your arm now.

You shake your head anyways. "I'll be buying some later. Don't worry about it." Before you hear him respond, you quickly rush over to the bathroom, and slam the door shut. He can't follow me in here.

Peering at your hands in the sink, you briefly looking at your tired face in the mirror. A slight goose-bump was popping up on your forehead, a little purple and black. "Great." Meanwhile, your hands looked shredded. Fortunately, these sinks were the handle types, so you could set it up to keep going instead of it turning on and off at it's own leisure.

You turn it to the warm side, and hissed a little in pain. "That hurts so much, ohmygoddddd." You grab a heavy amount of soap from one of the pumps nearby, and you start washing the gravel out of your hand.

It takes you a solid ten minutes to finally wash out all the gravel, and at that point, the dirty off-white sink was dyed rust-red. You gingerly pull the handle down to stop the water, and grab some strips of fabric from your purse to wrap around your hands again. Unfortunately, not only are your hands bleeding, but they're also wet, so you have a difficult time trying to take care of the fabric. A voice inside you whispers, Check outside.


He might be out there. Ask for help.

I don't wanna.

Look, you're obviously not making any progress on your hands, so ask for help.

Grumbling, there's a few seconds more of internal debate, but you take a second to look outside the bathroom door at the benches between the female and male bathroom.

Sure enough, he's sitting there. With a grocery bag.

Sighing to yourself, you say, "Uh... hi." He looks up, alert.

"sweetheart, you alright?" You pull out a hand, which was still bleeding. His smile droops a little, and his eyes sparkle with concern. "need help?" You nod. He gestures for you to come over, and you speed-walk over, sitting next to him.

No, he's definitely bigger than Sans. He's at least a foot taller than you, even sitting down.

You hold out your hands, frowning. He pulls out a roll of gauze from the grocery back, opens it up, and starts rolling it around your hand. Unfortunately, he starts it off a little roughly, and it's all you can do to keep yourself from screaming at him to just let you do it. Instead, you carefully say through grit teeth, "Can you please be a little more gentle?" He looks alarmed.

"oh shit, sweetheart, am i hurting you?"

"Little bit." A fucking lot.

He starts wrapping more slowly, and with a little more care.

After a few minutes, both hands are rewrapped, this time in gauze. "...Thank you for helping me." You look over them, flipping them back and forth. Then, you looked at Red.

He's giving you an odd look. "What?"

"...are ya sure no one hurt you?"

You groan. "I told you. A helmet flew out of a void, smacked me in the face, and when I tried to catch myself falling backwards, I ended up scraping up my hands. Why, you think some came up to me and slashed them?" You chuckled a little. "That'd be kind of weird, not gonna lie."

He's quiet. Then, he stands up abruptly, and a huge smile erupts on his face. "well, sweetheart, if that's the way you're gonna be... in any case, don't i deserve a little... reward for helpin' ya out?" Any sort of smile that had been on your face quickly vanished, in exchange for a sour expression.

Chapter Text

"sweetheart, i don' know how many more times i can apologize to ya. it was just a joke," Red says, slightly exasperated with your lack of response.

You were at the checkout line now, and it had been two hours of this bull. You had remained stone-faced, ignoring him as you quickly grab everything you have on your list. It had been really irritating for you to have to hear this guy constantly trying to get your attention while you were shopping. It was even more annoying when you were trying to think about whether or not to actually buy Sans more ketchup, and he stood in front of you while you were staring at it.

Then, your thoughts were filled with how tall he is in comparison to you. He's got to be at least two feet taller than me, you thought at the time.

"Paper or plastic?" The cashier asked, a fake smile on their face.

"Plastic, please," you say, as you start to place your groceries on the conveyor belt. No helping the environment today, you think as you reach for more in your grocery cart.

A red glow abruptly surrounded the items in your cart, and they levitated upwards to join your other groceries. You look at Red to see one eye-socket black, and the other glowing red. It took all of your will-power to keep yourself from asking if he was okay.

Then, you reminded yourself that Sans can do magic too. And you continue to ignore Red.




You got off of the scooter in the car garage, and sigh to yourself as Red pulls up next to you in his own maroon motorcycle. He doesn't say anything, just glares at you. You glare back.

Neither of you speak.

Eventually, you go ahead and start pulling your groceries out of the void underneath your seat. You have at least nine or ten bags of groceries, but you decide to layer on your arms instead of taking multiple trips. Even though you were probably cutting off your blood-flow in the process, but it's fINE.

You leave Red at his motorcycle as you head over to the elevator, and force your hand upwards to press the "up" button. The doors open, and you step inside.

You sigh.

The doors close.

Then, you quietly scream to yourself, frustrated with the day's events. Okay. That's great. Now he probably thinks it's okay to kiss me or some shit, you think. I just wanted to buy some damn groceries in peace, was that too much to ask for? You let some of the groceries back down, and rub your arms, now covered in red marks from the pressure of the bag straps. At least he's-

Red pops in the elevator out of nowhere. "FuuuuuUUUU-" He quickly slams a hand on your face, cutting you off mid-shout. "listen, sweetheart," he hisses, staring at you in the eyes. "i don't know what you want me to do. i've apologized countless times, and yet, every time i try to say i'm sorry, you brush me off."

You shove his hand away, and in a burst of confidence and adrenaline, glare at him. "Back. Off."

"make me." You felt a little bit of that confidence drain away after that response. And then, you started to investigate the situation.

First of all, you were alone in a confined space with an angry person. Strike one.

Second. Said angry person is big and strong. Strike two.

Thirdly and finally... said angry person is angry at you. Strike three.

He starts moving closer towards you, and you try to back up. You briefly stumble over one of your grocery bags contained a jug of milk, and flail your arms backwards, grabbing onto the bar attached to the elevator wall. He continues walking forward, an aggressive expression on his face. You keep scrambling towards the wall, trying to find some more space to back away. However, you were kind of... cornered. Dammittt, this is how I die. Great job, y/n, great job. You managed to piss off a guy in a day.


Why is this my fault?

That persistent little voice tended to pipe up at the worst of times. And then, you'd crush it back down.

Because if you weren't so fucking sensitive, maybe this all could've been avoided. If you weren't so rude, he wouldn't be angry with you. Because if you weren't you, then you could've not dealt with this problem. But instead, you fucked up, and now you're going to pay for it, the louder voice said, making you more and more upset. Then, you shut it off.

You shut it all off.

Because that's what you do.

You ignore how you feel, and that's how you avoid your problems. Afterall, if you're just a person with a short life-span, and the world's going to explode eventually, then literally nothing you do matters. It doesn't matter at all.

Dammit! Stop thinking like this, this is exactly what your therapist-

Fuck that. "Okay. You know what, I don't give a fuck," you say in a monotone voice, staring directly into Red's eyes. "If you wanna hit me, do it. Hell, do it as much as you want. I just don't fucking care." He pauses for a moment, confusion coming across his face. You stand there, your face dead of emotion. "Well? Do it."

After a few seconds, he starts backing away. "sweetheart? are you okay-"

"Do it, you fucking coward," you say, walking towards him. "Slap me. Punch me. Hell, go ahead and kill me. After all, it doesn't matter in the end." You reach for his wrist, and hold his hand up. "Do it. Choke me, use your fucking magic. I don't care how you do it."

"Just get it over with."

There's several moments of silence. Red is giving you a bewildered, scared expression. You could care less. A little voice in your head asks you how this escalated so quickly. You ignore it.

Red doesn't hit you.

You stare at him, a slight look of questioning in your gaze. "Well?"

He's shaking. Whether from fear, laughter, whatever the hell it is, you weren't sure of.

"sweetheart, i'm not going to hurt you. i don't think i can. not anymore." He gently pulls your hand away from his wrist, while maintaining eye contact with you. "i am, however, going to help you with your groceries, and then i'm going to go with you to your dorm to ask you some questions. is that okay with you?"

You don't respond. You just give him a long look.

"please, sweetheart. i'm... kind of worried about you."

No response.

"i'm not going to go into your dorm without your consent." The elevator doors open at your floor. The electronic voice announces the floor. You grab some of your groceries and walk out.

Red takes this as a sign to grab the rest of them and follow you.

You have a lot to talk about.

Chapter Text

The sound of the door swinging open gained you immediate attention from Sans. The lazy skeleton was sitting on the couch, working on some work on his laptop. You could tell that he had been focused, as he jumped a little when you walked in. A pair of glasses was taped onto his head, and his eye-sockets appeared smaller than usual. He ripped them off without care, a slight tear ringing throughout the mostly quiet room.

"hey, y/n," he said, giving a tired smile. "i can't thank you enough for going out and shopping at the store for me. it really was a bag idea for me to go out." You shrug, and plaster a fake-ass smile on your face.

"Eh, it was no problem." You noticed him peering around you, probably trying to get a good look at Red, who was standing in the doorway. Casually stepping aside, you make jazz hands in an attempt to be... eh, you weren't truly sure. "Sans, meet my friend Red. Red, this is-"

"'ey, vanilla," Red snarked, cocking an eyebrow. Sans sighed, glaring at him piercingly. You glanced at his hands, which were curling into fists. Great. As if I wasn't having a shitty enough day, the two guys I'm friends with apparently already know each other and seem to dislike each other, woOOONNNnnnderful, you think, raising a fist to your mouth to gently rub your lips with. It was an odd thing, but whenever your lips weren't dry and cracked for once (you loved when they would start bleeding, that was the best! And, yes, that's sarcasm), you were kind of obsessed with feeling how smooth they were. Same with click-erasers and keyboard keys- if they were smooth, you were touching them like nobody's business.

It was also kind of comforting and distracting, especially when you were being bothered.

"red. always nice to see you," Sans grunted, a tight expression on his face. "if you have any consideration for your safety, i think you should shop right there."

"Sans, if you can't be civil with your hangover, then I'll just go to Red's apartment instead and hang out with him there," you state flatly, removing your hand from your face. You placed your hands on your hips, and frowned. Meanwhile, Sans was giving you a 'seriously' look, at the same time that Red was trying to hold back laughter. He was... amused for some odd reason.


There's a few more moments of silence, while you and Sans stare down. Eventually, he sighs, and says, "whatever, kid. just... yell if he starts getting grabby." Red's amused expression quickly morphed into him staring daggers, agitated by Sans' reaction. "good lord, sans, i don't do that anymo'. that was... a year ago."

"a year ago isn't that long, red-neck," Sans scoffs. You frown. They're children. With that thought, you grab the grocery bags from Red's hands, and place them in the kitchen. "I'll take care of them later. Red, come on," you say, pulling at his hands towards your room. A huff came from Sans' expression, but you didn't bother to react. You'd rather get Red out of your apartment appropriately sooner than later.

Once Red is inside your room, you close the door behind you, and sigh. "Alright, uh, you had some questions, ri-" You sneeze into your elbow.

"bless ya."

"Thank you. Anyways. Questions. Answers to an extent. Go."

You turn around to look at Red, who is awkwardly standing in the middle of the room. You become hyper-aware of how short your ceiling is within seconds, as Red is only a few inches away from touching it with his head. "Uh, if you want, you could sit on my bed???" You walk towards it, and pat it, as if he was a dog and you were inviting him up. DaMMIT-

"thanks, sweetheart. guessing by your behavior earlier, i'm gonna have more questions than ya can answer at once," he says, plopping on top of your comforter. Damn, he's fucking huge, you think, glancing at him on your bed. He was at least twice as big as you? At least, in your over-dramatic mind, he was. You weren't sure how accurate that statement(?) actually was. Either way, he was definitely bigger than you in more ways than one.

He scoots towards the end of your bed, and kicks off his shoes before folding his legs criss-cross apple-sauce. Elementary school, you've done it again. You've made me use your stupid ways of talking about sitting in my fanfiction. I thought I could escape but no, I need to actually write into my story that Red is sitting in that way. Wow. Okay. THANKS ELEMENTARY SCHOOL--

"there's enough space for you to sit, if you'd like," Red says, pointing to the other side of the bed where your pillow was. You were actually grateful he didn't decide to sit on your pillow, because you really weren't sure how long ago he had washed his clothes. They looked a little like Sans' in a way- messy, dirty, covered with stains, and probably smelly af. So, yeah. Thanks to Red, you wouldn't have to lie down on your bed and think, hmm my pillow smells like shit- or whatever horrendous smell Red was carrying. (AN: HOLY SHIT THE BLACK PARADE JUST CAME ON WHILE I WAS WRITING THIS AND :'d good music right there)

You crawl onto your side of your bed after pulling your ballet flats off and throwing them on the floor. You peer at Red for a few seconds, before forcing yourself to say, "Alright. Ask away."

Red takes a deep breath. Fuck. "what happened back there, sweetheart?"

"I don't know."

"sweetheart, that's-"

"Please stop for one second. I'd like to ask you once again to not call me any nicknames," you say coldly, folding your arms. "Sweetheart, dollface, whatever the hell-- just don't. You know my name, so use it." Silence. "You can continue talking now, sorry."

Red's giving you a long look. "what do you mean by 'you don't know'? ya don't know, or... ya don' wanna talk about it?"

"Take your pick."

"that's helpful."

"Didn't say that my answers would be complete. Said I would answer to an extent."

"alrighty, then. how long has this been going on?"

You're silent for a few seconds, debating with yourself. To be honest, you weren't truly sure how long these reactions had been happening. It could've been all the way back in middle-school when it started, or it could've been freshman year of highschool. However, you weren't truly sure how much you wanted to tell Red.

This, oddly enough, reminded you of when you were talking to your mom about your depression for the first time. How much info do I want to tell you, hmmm.... you think mockingly, a smirk on your face as if it was an inside joke. Then, you remember Red is patiently waiting for an answer.

"A bit of time now."

"no specifics, huh? i can't help ya if ya won't talk-" You feel your blood start to boil.

"I didn't ask for help, dumb-ass," you hiss, straightening your back. "It was you who was pushing me, so back the fuck off."


"...sorry. i, uh, get where yer comin' from. in fact, i should've been more considerate, an' i'm sorry about that." You raise a brow. "i don't want to push you. hell, if you don't want to answer me at all, i want to say that i'm okay with that. i'm not, though. if that's your choice, however, i won't keep botherin' ya." He sighs. "howeva', yer not the only one who has gone through this."

"Believe me, I'm reminded of that every time I talk to anyone about my problems," I wryly respond, suddenly tired. "'Hey Mom, I'm depressed!' 'That's okay sweetie, so is 6.7 percent of American adults.' And then she'll say something along the lines of 'I'm not trying to down-play your problems, but you're not the only one with problems,'. And I feel like it's wrong to expect pity? Because that's attention-seeking? But I don't want it to constantly be mentioning about other people's problems, I want notice to be taken of mine," you blurt out, starting to freak out a little. "Sorry that I have issues? Sorry that I'm broken?"

"stop." Red grabs your hands, and stares into your eyes, his brows furrowed. "stop right there, y/n. you are not broken."

"Look at me," you chuckle bitterly.

"i am looking at you, and for the two days i have known you, i have not seen a broken person. i have seen a strong woman who doesn't accept help because she believes she can do things by herself, which-- which is true, don't get me wrong, but she's probably been trying to do things alone for a long time," Red states, tilting his head. "is that correct?"

"To an extent," you respond.

There's silence for a few moments. You allow Red to continue holding your hands, as if he's the only anchor available at the ready, however light he is. His eyes are closed, not looking at you. You can't tell if he's trying to sleep or if he's just... resting his eyes? You weren't sure.

What you were sure of is that you wanted some space. You could take interactions for a little while, but this was exhausting and going nowhere. "Please leave me alone," you whisper. Red opens his eyes, and nods. He lets go of your hands, and glances around the room, searching for something.

His eyes widen a little once he's spotted something, and he stumbles over to a small desk in your room, where a cup full of pens and pencils is lying near a sticky-note pad. "if you need to talk." He quickly scribbles down a number onto the pad, and then glances at you. "feel better, y/n." With that, he teleports out of the room.

Well, that just happened.

Chapter Text

Sans... was kind of, shall we say, annoyed after you took Red's side and not your room-mate's when he was being a total asshole to him. (AN: Take your pick on who 'he' and 'him' are, lmfao) So, after the door had closed and you two were silently discussing... whatever it was in your room (which Sans also thought was a terrible idea), he decided to pay a quick visit to his baby bro.

Papyrus was still a few years younger than him- about two or three years between the two of them. Unfortunately for Sans, it was a little hard for him to playfully tease him like he did when Papyrus was shorter than him... considering that Papyrus was about three feet taller. And still growing. Taller, he meant. Not shorter.

Definitely not shorter.

As he popped into the house, he immediately recognized the scent of his bro's spaghetti. He also recognized very active magic- besides Paps', that is. "HARDER, PAPYRUS! LET THE TOMATOS TASTE YOUR STRENGTH! LET THEM FEAR YOU!!! NGAHHHHHH!!!!" Sans was going to have a bit of cleaning to do tonight.

He casually teleported into the kitchen, right next to Undyne. "'ey, undyne." Undyne glanced down at Sans, and squinted. "Paps, is that your bro? I thought he was at college?"

Papyrus, now(?) punching the tomatoes, didn't even bother to look. He was that used to Sans popping out of literally nowhere. "HE IS AT COLLEGE! HE MUST'VE DECIDED TO VISIT, THOUGH! HI, SANS!"

"hey bro. figured you'd miss your pain in the class, so i figured i'd pay a visit." Groans came from both Undyne and Papyrus.



"sorry. guess my pool o' puns are just running..." he winked. "bone-dry."


"eh, couldn't let the opportunity past-a." Sans glanced over at the tomato-splattered counter. "papyrus, you think the tomato's been made afraid of you yet?"


Undyne scoffed. "I mean, there's ALWAYS room for improvement, but, uh, that'll do. Now, Papyrus, remember what we said about the pasta?"


"according to human sources, you just spa-lett-i it into the pot, and leave it at boiling temperature, bro," Sans punned, his socket lighting up. The box lifted upwards, and poured dry spaghetti into the water, while the knob was discreetly turned the direction away from burning their house down. Papyrus rolled his eyes.


"papyrus, i'd be kind of worried if you started growing skin, not gonna lie."

"IT WAS A PUN, BROTHER! NYEH!" Sans faintly noticed some transparent blue spears near Undyne, but they didn't last long. He turned to her, and raised his brows.

"undyne, on a scale from nine to fin, what would you bait it?"





"no we don't"


After an impressive cooking lesson from the tiniest person in the room, Papyrus, Undyne, and Sans were all sitting on the couch eating pasta with some tomato sauce. Back when they were Underground, Papyrus would only watch MTT's shows...

...because that was literally all that was on.

However, both Sans and Papyrus were wildly impressed by the wide variety of shows and channels that the Surface had available. There were several times where on a late night working, Sans would come back around four in the morning and walk in on Papyrus binging a show on Netflix.

"papyrus, it's four thirty in the fucking morning. you need to get some sleep."


"i could just call alphys or undyne and ask them to tell you so that you go to bed."


Sans asked the next day. Alphys proceeded to rage about how the show didn't have a second season. Sans didn't bother to ask why Papyrus was yelling at the TV in the living room after that.

Eventually, Papyrus bought his own TV for in his bedroom, and after that, Sans let it go. Usually. Sometimes, if he was awake enough, he would watch a little with Papyrus, but then he would insist that Papyrus would go to sleep. That usually worked a little better than trying to force him asleep when he was bone-tired, but sometimes, Papyrus still reminded him that he had a little more energy than him at fifteen years old.

Now, they were watching the MasterChef Junior Finale from the most recent seasoning, and Papyrus was scoffing. "IF I WERE ON THAT SHOW, I WOULD SHOW THEM ALL UP WITH MY WORLD-FAMOUS SPAGHETTI!"

"sure you would, bro."

Then, another commercial break. After like five damn minutes of watching, there was yet. Another. Commercial.

Undyne turned to face Sans. "So, how's your room-mate, Sans?" She asked, a devilish look in her eyes. "She cute?"

"undyne, you have a wife."

"NGAHHH! I DIDN'T MEAN IT THAT WAY, GOD SANS!" Undyne accidentally made a spear in her hand... which was holding her bowl of pasta.

Which went everywhere.

"undyne, i spear, it was a joke." Undyne glared at him. Meanwhile, Papyrus pulled a piece of spaghetti out of his eye-socket, and casually popped it into his mouth. "anyways, to answer your question, she's a human."

"Not what I meant, Sans. I meant... does your heart go doki-doki when you see her?"

"i'm a skeleton. i don't have a heart. or organs."




"yeah, but papyrus is my baby bro."


"eh, point taken."


"well what?"


"she's... nice-looking? uh... she's got a good soul, i guess. little cracked, though." Undyne's eye widened, and Papyrus looked concerned.

"HER SOUL IS CRACKED?" Papyrus asked, placing his bowl onto the floor. Where a white dog casually stole it. "GOD-DAMMIT."

"language. think of the children-"


"hi being serious sans, i'm dad."


"damn, guess i'm not dad then. whoops."


Undyne coughed out a piece of spaghetti. "Wait, Paps, you worked on soul research with Gaster?"


"yeah. fluffy-bunny is by far the most scientific novel out there. the author won a nobel prize for it."


"shut down."


"hehehehehehehehe." After laughing a little, he smiled. "but yeah, papy's a genius. smarter than me, actually. just younger."


"you can't ever be my age, bro. i'll always be three years older than you."




"stop what?"


"bro, we do talk." Papyrus rolled his eyes.


"i still do that through text."


"what reasons?"


Chapter Text

After finishing MasterChef Junior, Undyne stood up. "Well, punks, I gotta get home. Me and Alphys have some work to do-"

"doing work or doing alphys?" Undyne smirked.

"Take your pick."

"alright, well, have fun."

"Thanks, Sans. I'll see you around. You should come visit more often, dumb-ass!" Sans' smile tightened, though Undyne either didn't see or notice. She pulled the door open, and with a mock salute, she yelled, "SEE YA, PUNKS!" The door slammed shut.

Now, it was just Sans and Papyrus.

The last time it had been like this, they were living in Snowdin.

It was quiet for a few minutes, no talking between the two of them. Then, eventually, Papyrus cleared his throat. "SO, SANS... HOW IS, COLLEGE?"

"eh. college."


More quiet. Sans regrets his response.



More quiet. More regret.

Sans sighs. "sorry, bro. just... after moving out..."



They don't look at each other for a few minutes. Sans could tell that like him, Papyrus was probably remembering that day. That day, when Sans packed up his things, and left Papyrus. Left for college.


Sans gave a tired smile as he placed his last box into Papyrus' red convertible. "'ey, bro, you sure you're okay with me driving your car?" Papyrus smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

"OF COURSE, BROTHER," Papyrus states in a half-hearted tone. "AFTER ALL, I CAN'T DRIVE IT WITHOUT YOU YET, SO IT'S NOT REALLY MINE." He tosses the keys to Sans, and he catches them with ease. The plastic covering the metal feels smooth against his hand, and he thinks of younger days.

"right bro. right... i can, uh, key what you're-"




"SANS, I DON'T WANT YOU TO LEAVE. I WANT YOU TO, BUT I DON'T." Papyrus awkwardly rubs his arm, a down-cast expression cast across his face. Meanwhile, Sans frowns with his eyes. "bro, i know it's going to be hard, but i need a human degree if i'm going to be considered for any good jobs up here."


"and when the money is gone?" Papyrus closes his mouth. Sans' eyes are dark and sullen, and his brows are furrowed in a concerned expression. "paps, i need to get a job until you're through college and can get one too."


"don't. you have work to do."


"i didn't say-"


"papyrus, please-"

"WILL YOU PLEASE LISTEN TO ME!" Papyrus shouts, a miserable look on his face. Sans appears shocked, his eyesockets widened with small white eyelights, and a tight smile on his face. Papyrus lets out a whimper. "LISTEN TO ME. PLEASE. DON'T JUST SAY, 'PAPYRUS YOU'RE THE BEST'. 'PAPYRUS, IT'LL BE ALRIGHT'. 'PAPYRUS, JUST BE AWESOME AND WE'LL BE ALRIGHT'. WELL, SANS, I'M NOT OBLIVIOUS, AND I... I CAN SPEAK." He sighs. "FLOWEY USED TO LISTEN TO ME-"

"flowey was using you."



Papyrus was, without a doubt, thinking about that day. It was written all over his face, as he rubbed his hands together. The couch was shaking a little as he bounced his leg, and he wasn't looking at Sans. That was something he was usually very good at- eye contact.

He wasn't making that now.


"i-" Sans stopped himself. He didn't want to interrupt Papyrus, in case he had more to say.


"sorry. just... i want to be able to talk to you. i want to be able to hear you."


"because i've lost sight of how to. it was easier in snowdin, where i'd see you every day, and we lived together. but now, i don't know what words to say, i don't know how to, to communicate with you, bro. it hurts, and i want to fix it, but i just... i don't know. i don't know." He placed his head in his hands, and groaned. "paps, what... what happened."


"please don't say that."


"papyrus, we're the same, we just don't talk-"


The room echoes with the sound of Sans' tears. my baby bro... we used to be close. we used to be close. i want to be close. why is there a gap, i just- i just want it to be better, i want to fix this, why can't i fix this? why can't we be close? i want to fix this. "we-" A hiccup. "-we used to know each other so well, pa-- pa--"

"I Know, Shhhhh..." Papyrus scooches closer to Sans, and wraps him in a big hug. He rests his head on top of Sans', and closes his eyes while Sans cries into his shirt. "Sans, We... I Know." At this point, it wasn't even a matter of not talking a lot... it was a matter of how to talk. "I Want Us To Fix This."

Sans pushes his head out of Papyrus' shirt, and looks up at him. "i-- i do too, bro. i want to go back."


"i'm not--" hic "--i'm not sure that's how that really went," Sans chuckled bitterly.

"WELL, THAT'S HOW I REMEMBER IT." and we can't really ask him right now if that's the right quote or not, Sans thinks, his mood worsening as he thinks of his and Papyrus' dad. Gaster, stuck in the void due to his own disastrous incident... until Sans can get him out. Not that that was happening any time soon.

"we'll fix this, papy. i promise."

"I PROMISE, TOO, SANS." They sigh.

There's nothing more to be said, for now.

Papyrus seemingly decides to change the topic, as he abruptly says, "SO. YOUR ROOM-MATE'S SOUL."





"before. still is cracking now, though. lots of scarring, too."

"ARE THEY...?"

"those types of scars? yeah. they... yeah."

Papyrus places his head in his hand, and groans. "DOES SHE KNOW?"

"nah. my guess is that she doesn't even know that she has a soul."


"no, i didn't mean it-- yes, papyrus." Sans mentally reminds himself to be patient with his brother, since they think differently. He used to do that without even thinking about it, but these days... these days...

Papyrus gets up, and Sans briefly panics. fuck i chased him away, he's frustrated with me, paps please- "I'M GOING DOWN TO THE LAB, BROTHER. I THINK THE RESEARCH IS IN THERE? FIRST DRAWER, RIGHT?" we're fine, he's not upset, we're- we're fine, we're fine, Sans thinks, relief expressed in a sigh. He nods, and Papyrus walks outside of the house. The door closes with a slight squeak.

Sans is alone. Again.

He looks around the house, and feels a tinge of remorse. It was almost exactly like their one in Snowdin, except with an extra room than before- a bathroom, added by humans. Originally, the house didn't look anything like they imagined, and they quickly set work to changing it back to what they wanted, while completely ignoring the bathroom. They decided to keep it for the hell of it.

such a big house for one person. The bitter thought crosses Sans' mind before he can stop it, and he moans, placing his head in his hands.

He didn't want Papyrus to be alone. He wanted to live with him, it's just... a steady flow of income. Their G would only last them so long, considering their longer life-spans. As it is, prices rise every day, and chances were that they would end up losing money quicker and quicker, unless one of them got a job, or both. So, Sans, being the older brother, decided to take care of it while Papyrus completed school-work.

This, apparently, took a toll on their relationship.

The door opens again, and Papyrus walks back in, carrying a huge amount of papers. "I GRABBED AS MUCH OF DAD'S RESEARCH ON THE SOUL AS I COULD. SHALL WE GET STARTED ON REVIEWING IT?" Sans prepares to respond, when he remembers--

He has a room-mate at his dorm.

"shit. i don't think-"

"SPEND THE NIGHT, DUMB-ASS." Sans gazes at Papyrus.


"alright, i'll stay."

He'll just have to see her in the morning.

Chapter Text

After Red left, you sat there for what felt like hours. You stared at your wall, scanning over every inch. Then, you looked at your floor, and the carpet. You look at your bed. Last of all, you look at your reflection in your phone. You lift it up a little, and it turns on.

Nothing. No messages. No calls. You didn't expect anything, of course- everyone is living their own life, doing something or another.

You supposed you could call someone. You could talk to your mom, or your siblings, or you could reach out to BP. Anyone. You could call anyone. Or-- or you could talk to your dorm-mate, now that you had stopped talking to Red.

Slipping off your bed, you slink over to your door and slowly open it, peeking outside. "Sans?" You call.

The silence was deafening.

You walked over to the couch, and plopped on top of it, sighing to yourself. "You could've talked to Red. You told him to go away for a reason. You don't even want to talk to anyone, you idiot." You slide your hand down your face, and you feel your nose ache with the pressure. You do it the reverse way. Your nose still felt weird.

Whatever. It would go away eventually.

When you're alone, you never think about it. For those who require social interactions as a central part of their lives, loneliness is like suicide. But, as one who doesn't mind having their alone-time, you were alright. And yet, the moment you receive it, anything you desire to do just goes out the window.

You forget anything and everything that you're able to do at that moment. You just-- well, you sit. And you sit some more. And then, eventually, people come back.

That was not going to be the case, tonight, and you knew it.

Leaning backwards, you felt the couch top rub against your hair. "I could." You close your eyes. "I could, um. Well. I could, uh; I guess I could play a game?" Pause. "Or watch a movie?" Another pause. You then sigh. "Oh, who the hell am I kidding... what do I want to do? I don't know, and I'm not sure I'll know, and I'll just sit on this couch sulking for the rest of my god-damn life."

You look around, and frown deeply. You just felt so... tired. Why? Why were you so damn tired? Why couldn't you-- why couldn't you just be normal? Awake? Happy?



Your phone goes off. After a few seconds, you sigh, and pick it up.

It’s Burgerpants. You answer. Even though he can’t see you, you plaster a tired, fake smile on your face. “Hey, BP. What’s up?”

…You busy?

“Nah. I’m fine.” Bullshit. Talk to him.

Alright, well… I’ve had kind of a shitty day. Mind if I vent?

“Not at all. Go for it, buddy.”

It’s kind of peaceful, listening to Burgerpants rant about his problems instead of thinking about your own. You knew you could talk to him, but you’d much rather push your own issues away and try to help someone else. Again, while you think life is pointless…

Not everyone else does.

Throughout his annoyed story, you pitch in with your opinion every now and then. Part of having these conversations is having someone to bounce ideas off of regarding problems, and right now, you were that person. Per usual, it sounded like Mettaton was being a jack-ass regarding Burgerpants’ juggling act with his school and job. You couldn’t understand how someone could be that insensitive about someone’s needs- as far as Burgerpants had told you, he had gotten little to no education in the Underground.

…And then, then that MTT bitch says, ‘Well, darling~, if you can’t balance your college work with your job, maybe you should just… stop going to college.” I’m sorry, what? Why would I quit college to work for some dumb-ass douchebag? I’d rather quit my job than do that, and that’s saying something!” You force a laugh.

“Yeah, you’re absolutely right.”

Alright, now what’s wrong. Sorry, I know I vented for a while.” You jolt a little. You didn’t think he had picked up on your tone that easily, as you were well-practiced at disguising it over the phone.

“Oh, you know…”

Please talk to me, buddy. I know something is up. Please, just—gosh, I don’t know, say SOMETHING.”


“I had… one of my shut-downs.”

You hear silence. You glance at your phone to see if Burgerpants was still on the phone. You were surprised—and kind of hurt—to see that he had hung up on you. I just listened to you bitching about Mettaton, what the hell, man? You thought, frowning.

Just goes to show that no one wants to deal with your shit, Y/N, a voice said in your head. You grit your teeth, and punch the couch. “Fuck!” You shout.

There’s a knock at the door.

You don’t answer it.

Y/N? It’s me! Please open up!What on earth…

You walk over to the door. Grasping the knob, you turn it, and open it up. Burgerpants, sure enough, is standing outside your dorm holding… chocolate. And movies.

“I, uh, brought the usual stuff, lil’ buddy.” He held up the chocolate. “It’s not too hard, not melted, y’know? And, the um, shit, what are they called—” He glances at the movie cases. “Ah, that’s it. The Spider-Man trilogy.” You raise your brows.

“The Amazing Spider-Man, or Tobey Maguire Spider-Man?”

Burgerpants snorts. “Tobey Maguire. Just how you like it.”

You sigh. “Nice.”

Looks like a movie night with Burgerpants—hope your dorm-mate doesn’t mind, if he ever comes back.

Chapter Text


Wow! I can't believe so many people have been enjoying and reading my fanfiction, even though it doesn't even have a real name!

That's like dating someone that doesn't have a name!

I'm just kidding.

In any case, I considered doing a Q&A earlier on in this fanfic, and I made a decision that once we reached 150 Kudos, we would do one then! Hope y'all don't mind the break in the action, but hey, you get to have answers!


SouthernBelleAmy left me a lot of cool questions that I wanted to answer, but figured I should do in a chapter so it wouldn't look too cluttered!


#1: What inspired you to write this fic?


Honestly, lots of fanfiction, my siblings, and my freshman year of highschool. Regarding fanfiction, I have a few that I follow:

Aggre(g/v)ation by Llama_Goddess, which is my favorite one I've ever read- go check it out if you haven't, it's an amazing read and a hell of a lot better than mine! The dynamic between Reader and the hot sexy skeletons in there is just, omg. The writing's so smooth and fluid, and it leaves you questioning what will happen next! Check it out!

Six Skeletons, One Maid by RaccoonSinQueen, an absolutely goddamn classic in the readerxsans reverse harem fanfiction section. Gorgeous writing, and interesting twists with each chapter! They released another chapter fairly recently after a long hiatus, and hopefully this will remain the case. Even if it isn't, though, I love to re-read it. Worth it.

Brace for it by readsleepcoffee is hilarious, and a different take on the normal sansxreader fanfiction. The story takes place during the apocalypse, and reader has braces, which is pretty neat! It's also really fun to read, and they've released a new chapter near the end of last month. So good.

Regarding my siblings, I legit have two older siblings who are awesome, and I wanted to fit them in somehow lmfao

Regarding my freshman year of highschool, this fanfic references when reader started being depressed, which occurred during highschool. I had a rough first year, and I had a relationship with my mom where i desperately desired to make her happy and please her, but because of that i just started struggling with finding any reason to do anything for me or to be happy for me. I'm in therapy now, which is part of why the first chapter seems so realistic- I had material to work with.


#2: Who's your favorite skeleton?


AHHHHHHhhhH. That's hard, man. It really depends on the fanfic and the day. I always enjoy me a good, cold mysterious classic that warms up to reader, but a nice flirty af red is hilarious to read. Of course, there's also the sexy as hell mafia sans who is really damn hot. And yes, this honestly describes my feelings about Aggre as well, whoops. If we're not talking romantic fanfiction though and talking about fan-made stuff in general? Fresh. Yes. Give me that hilarious as hell 90s nightmare any day. And if we're talking canon? Come on. Don't make me choose. They're both my beautiful children, asdfghjkl


#3: Who's your least favorite?


My least favorite? Uhhh, I honestly don't know, tbh. I find a bunch of them really interesting... I guess I get annoyed a bit at times about Fell Papyrus because he tends to be a huge dick in fan-made stuff, but he also is sometimes fun, so idk. sometimes the lust bros, because i'm not a big person for that stuff (sorry, smut-readers. probs not your fic lmfao)


#4: From "Undertale" who's magic would you most like to have and why?


OOF okay, hmmm.... That's actually a great question. I would probably want Frisk's magic(? thing?) of being able to SAVE and LOAD, since I'd like to have the opportunity to try and fix problems that I really screw, not RESET though because that's really hardcore. If we don't count Frisk as having magic, I'd probably say... Toriel? Because she has healing magic and fire magic? And that's pretty rad, because if you get injured or pimples that hurt you could probably just fix it, and with fire magic, that could save power and stuff? eh idk


#5: Which skeleton would you most like to meet?


Papyrus. Sans is pretty neat and all and I would love to pun with him, but I need more of Papyrus' happy-go-lucky, cheerfulness in my life. I fortunately have a friend at school that actually reminds me faintly of him, which is pretty amazing, so... yeah


#6: Who's your favorite "Undertale" character?


Burgerpants. Hands down. Best boy right there. There is no explanation needed. If you need one, interact with him in game and tell me that he isn't amazing.


#7: Who's your least favorite character from "Undertale"?


Jerry. Ditch. Immediately.


ALSO! More recent question from Popiplant: “does sans and papyrus know there in a fanfiction. cuz 4th wall doent exist for them.”


Papyrus frowns for a few seconds. He glances back at me for a second. “CAN WE BREAK THE FOURTH WALL RIGHT NOW, OR ARE WE STILL—”

I quickly give him finger-guns, not knowing how to respond. He turns back to face you. “YES, PLANT-HUMAN! WE ARE AWARE THAT WE ARE IN A FANFICTION! BUT JUST LIKE ACTORS IN MOVIES, WE PLAY A ROLE!”

“nah. bro’s just kidding. think of reality tv, buddy. ‘s kinda like that.” Sans gives you a smirk. “it’s pretty real. we don’t know what’s happening where we’re not at.”


“n-no, bro.”

I smile at you. “To answer your question, Papyrus and Sans are sub-consciously aware that some wacky shit is up. Papyrus is actually kind of hyper-aware, as you may have noticed in the chapter ‘A Visit To A Beloved Brother’! Sans just… kind of goes with it?” I shrug. “Honestly, yes and no. I think it goes in and out sometimes. Hope that answers your question!”


YEAH that's the q and a goodnight

Chapter Text

You wake up the next morning on the couch, with your soft gray blanket draped over you. For a few seconds, you question how you ended up sleeping on the couch.

Then, you remember.

BP came over to hang out after hearing that you had a… thing the other day, and the two of you watched Spider-Man 1, 2, and 3… though you fell asleep at the beginning of 3 because honestly it sucked and you had no desire to watch it again, no matter how much you enjoyed seeing certain parts of it. Because it sucked.

You yawn a little. I wonder if Sans came back last night? You thought, sliding off the couch onto the floor. You look at the ceiling for a few seconds. “Saaaans?” You say, your voice slightly slurred from exhaustion.

No response. Maybe he’s asleep. Then, your phone goes off.

2 new messages from best boy BP.

1 new message from meme master.

You first open the message from Burgerpants, because… because.

best boy BP: hey, you passed out last night, so I left you with a blanket on the couch. hope you didn’t mind.

best boy BP: OH and also I left the chocolate in your cabinet so youd have it in the future.

You smile. That was very considerate of him. You quickly type up a brief ‘thank you’ message, and send that. Then, you look at what Sans sent you.

meme master: its sans wanted to let u know I wont be in the dorm tonight, spending the night at my bros. call if you need me

Well, that was sweet. Too bad you didn’t see that earlier on, otherwise you might have actually taken him up on that offer. Guess you’ll just have to some other time.

Speak of the devil—you hear a thump from the kitchen, and you slowly shove yourself back onto the couch. You lean over the top, your arms dangling, and spot Sans standing there, looking at the cabinets. “G’mornin’, sans-shine,” you say, smirking.

He jumps a little at the sound of your voice, but relaxes as soon as he sees you. “glad to see you’re doing al-light,” he jokes, waving at you. His eyelights flicker to the blanket draped over the arm of the couch, and he asks, “did you sleep on the couch?”

“As a matter of fact, I did. Happens sometimes, hope you don’t mind,” you say, awkwardly gesturing towards the blanket. “It just… yeah? Happens, uh, sometimes.” A comedic expression comes on your face, and goofy tone in your voice: “Wow! I can words!

You laugh a little. Sans joins you.

After a few seconds, you smell a strong scent. Coffeeeeeee. “You better have made enough for two people,” you say, smirking.

“nah. i made enough for me to have two cups. maybe i’ll consider giving you the second one.” You roll your eyes. He comes into the living room a few minutes later with two mugs of coffee.

You were too tired to ask for creamer, so you drank it black. And proceeded to cough it back out.

“Nope. Too hot, and creamer.” You got up, and quickly grabbed peppermint-mocha creamer out of the fridge, along with a table-spoon thing. You poured it in, and stirred it.

Sans gives you a questioning look, but doesn’t say anything as he casually sips his coffee. His black, hot coffee.

“so. yesterday.” You wince a little. You briefly recall yelling at Sans about not being nice. “care to talk?”

“I was having a rough day. I shouldn’t have been a jerk to you, and I want to apologize.” He gives you a long look. “I… I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

“it’s fine. just wondering what was up.”

You’re silent for a few seconds. After a few moments of thoughts, you open your mouth to speak. “I—” You stop yourself. Then, you start again. “Is it okay if I just… don’t talk about it right now?” Sans shrugged.

“up to you, bucko.”

“…Thanks.” You sigh. You sip your coffee again. Much better.

A few seconds later, Sans casually asks, “so. what star your thoughts on space?” You raise a brow.

“It’s neat… Why?”

He shrugged again, grinning. “was wondering if you wanted to go to a science museum with me. they got a new exhibit in, and i wanted to check it out. unfortunately, the usual people i’d ask to go are busy, so i wanted to see if you’d be sun-what okay with that.”

You think for a moment. “You know what—sure.”


Honestly, you weren’t as impressed by all these things as much as Sans. You felt awkward about it, obviously, as he was amazed by the different displays. Maybe it was because you’d had access to it for years and never once cared to check it out?

…Yeah, you feel like shit.

For what seems like the fifteenth time, Sans walks over to another rocket-ship. You watch from a distance, as you weren’t willing to ruin his experience.

He looks back at you.

You wince.

The skeleton strolls over to you, and with an awkward expression, asks, “hey, do you want to do one more thing before we go? you don’t seem to, uh, like it very much.” You wince even more.

“…Was it that obvious?”

“little bit. started catching on after the fourth rocket-ship.” You cover your face in your hands.


“you do realize it’s okay to not have the same interests as everyone else, right?” You peek from behind your fingers. A concerned look is on Sans’ face, and he almost looks embarrassed.

“Yes—yes, of course I know that.” You frown. “I…” Sighing, you slowly pull your fingers from your face. “Why don’t we go do that last thing you want to do?”

“it’s okay if you don’t want to.”

You put your hands out in front of you. “No, it’s fine. What is it?”

Sans smiles. “you’ll see.”


You step into the theater, and almost immediately you’re confused.

You look around, but there’s… no screen. Only seats in a circle, and a blue…

…Screen ceiling.


Sans goes to one of the seats in the middle, and pats next to him. “it’s a ten to thirty minute presentation,” he informs you, looking almost giddy. “out of everything here, this might be one of the coolest things i’ve ever seen.” You raise a brow.

Either this is going to be really cool, or… well. Not cool? You weren’t exactly sure how to describe it.

You sit in the seat next to him, and look upwards. “Alright. What now?”

“we wait for it to begin.”

About five, ten minutes later, the show begins. The whole room darkens, and the screen darkens too. A voice liken to Neil deGrasse Tyson begins to speak about the universe, and your eyes widen as the ceiling transforms into billions—no, trillions of stars and galaxies.

You feel yourself start to tear up.

Oh my God…

It’s… amazing.

You look over at Sans for a second. If you thought you were impressed, you were about think again. His eye-sockets were wide, and his mouth—you swore it was open. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’d never seen stars be—



You suddenly realized why Sans liked the museum so much. Especially the theater.