Chapter Text
Sans knows he doesn’t have to make a big fuss about this. It’s only going to be the five of them and the boys aren’t going to care what the cake looks like as long as it tastes good. But your baby only turns three once, so Sans is going all out.
It’s going to be a three-tiered chocolate cake with a chocolate mousse filling between the layers and chocolate ganache on the top. Ollie really likes chocolate, and Sans wants Ollie to be happy.
Red had offered to get a cake made by that pricey baker in town who makes gorgeous custom cakes for any occasion, but Sans wanted to make it himself, even though baking isn’t one of his strong suits. It might not be as perfect as some fondant-covered masterpiece with intricate details that could only be made by an expert hand, but it would be made with love. And oh man, does Sans love Ollie.
Ollie is his little sidekick. They’ve gone everywhere and done everything together over the last three years. Sans can count one one hand the number of times he’s left Ollie with the babysitter, and most of those times were only because Red had badgered him about the two of them needing a date night. He always had fun with Red when they went out, but every time he couldn’t wait to get home and scoop Ollie up and give him a big kiss.
Three years old means Sans only has one more year before he needs to send Ollie to preschool, so he plans to cherish every second of having him home with him all day. Don’t get him wrong, Ollie isn’t always an angel. There are plenty of tantrums over his TV shows being turned off and not being allowed to play with some of his brothers’ more delicate toys. He hates taking baths and won’t fall asleep unless Sans or Red lays in his bed with him until he does.
And of course, as much as he doesn’t want to, Sans has to be the strict parent, because Red gives Ollie absolutely everything he wants. Red would probably let Ollie get away with murder. Well, maybe that’s not the best idiom to use when it comes to Red seeing as he, himself, has gotten away with murder. Probably more than once.
The layers of the cake are all baked and cooling, the mousse has been whipped, and the ganache is simmering on the stovetop, all waiting to be assembled into Sans’ heartfelt masterpiece for his sweet boy.
There’s a pile of gifts sitting in Sans and Red’s closet waiting to be torn into by little bony hands, but the big gift is hiding in the garage. It’s a Power Wheels ride-on car, red and styled after a Lamborghini, complete with scissor doors and a working radio. Ollie loves to sit in Red’s Corvette even though he can’t ride in it yet, so he’s going to absolutely freak when he sees he has a sports car of his own, just like Papa.
Sans doesn’t hear Red come into the kitchen, and only notices he’s there when Red comes up behind him and puts his hands on Sans’ hips and rests his mandible on his shoulder. Sans nuzzles into him and Red responds by planting a kiss on Sans’ zygomatic.
“hey sweetheart. lookin good,” Red says.
“thanks! it’s almost time to start putting it together,” Sans tells him.
“i was talkin ‘bout you, not the cake. but that looks good, too,” Red replies, chuckling when Sans blushes and planting a light kiss on Sans’ teeth.
“d-did you have a good day?” Sans stutters, still flustered by Red’s compliment.
“lotsa heavy liftin. i’m not sure why the fuck we can’t just pay someone ta renovate the bar but sal instists we gotta do it ourselves. calls it his ‘passion project’,” Red complains. “thank fuck we got ollie’s birthday dinner er else he woulda had me there all night.” Sans gives his husband a sympathetic look.
“why don’t you go take a shower and relax a little? i’ve got to finish all this up and start the potatoes,” Sans says.
“gotta start the grill,” Red reminds him.
“i can do that. go shower,” Sans insists. Red gives him another kiss and releases Sans from his embrace.
“alright, but don’t start the chicken without me. i’m doin that part,” Red states. Though he usually lets Sans handle all the cooking, he had made it clear he wanted to contribute to the meal tonight. Sans nods in agreement then turns his attention back to the cake.
He assembles it meticulously on top of an ornate cake stand, spreading heaping layers of mousse between each tier, and pouring his ganache over the top which cascades down the sides like a waterfall. He tops it off with three tall candles that match the purple of Ollie’s eyelights, then sets it on the counter for later.
Before he starts the potatoes he heats the grill as promised, turning the burners up to get the flames moving so everything is ready for Red when it’s time to start cooking. He goes back inside and gets to work on the potatoes so everything will be done at the same time.
Just as the potatoes go in the oven, Sans hears a knock on the front door. He rinses off his hands then hurries out of the kitchen to answer it, and when he opens the door is met with the last thing he was expecting.
It’s a skeleton, at least a foot taller than he is with a crack splintering up from one socket and down from another. He’s dressed in a suit, black with pinstripes and a red shirt with the top two buttons undone. He’s wearing a fedora, and in his hand, which seems to be floating free from the rest of his body, he has a pocket watch which he tucks back into his jacket as soon as Sans makes eye contact with him.
“hello!” Sans greets him. “can i help you?”
“Hello there! Is Red home?” the man replies. Sans studies him, trying to decide if he’s friend or foe before giving him an answer. The man has a gentle smile on his face and seems friendly enough, and no alarm bells are going off in Sans’ head that say this man spells danger, so Sans smiles back and decides to give him an honest answer.
“he’s actually in the shower right now. is there something i can help you with?” Sans asks.
“I’m not sure I know who you are,” the man says.
“oh! i’m sans, red’s husband.”
“Husband? Interesting,” the man ponders. “Well, Sans, it’s very nice to meet you, but I really need to speak with Red. Would you mind going and letting him know I’m here?”
“um, sure. can i tell him who’s asking for him?” Sans inquires.
“Just tell him it’s the Doctor,” the man responds. first the boogeyman and now the doctor? Red certainly keeps some strange company.
“of course. why don’t you come inside while i go grab him?” Sans says. The Doctor nods and steps inside as Sans shuts the door behind him. Sans turns and heads upstairs, hoping he didn’t just make a huge mistake by letting this stranger in.
Sans finds Red in their bedroom with a towel around his waist, digging some clothes out of their dresser. He smiles at Sans when he enters the room as he strips off the towel and pulls out a pair of shorts that he starts to pull on. His grin grows wider as he notices Sans watching his bare bones.
“ya missed the good part, babe. coulda fucked ya in the shower if ya came up five minutes sooner,” Red tells him. Sans feels his face go hot.
“i, uhh…”
“yer so cute when yer all flustered like that,” Red chuckles, reaching for a shirt and throwing that on as well.
“t-there’s, um, someone here to see you,” Sans manages to get out after he finally stops blushing.
“who?” Red asks, turning to him with a brow raised.
“he just said ‘the doctor’,” Sans explains. Red’s face goes blank as he pushes past him and out of the room.
“oh fuck no,” Red growls as he storms by.
“red?” Sans calls after him, but when his husband doesn’t respond Sans hurries to the top of the stairs where he looks down to see Red in the man’s face.
“get the fuck outta my house, ya worthless piece ‘a shit!” Red snarls.
“Come now, is that any way to speak to me? What happened to respecting your elders?” the Doctor replies.
“you lost my respect a long fuckin time ago, asshole,” Red informs him.
Sans watches the scene unfolding beneath him, cringing at the thought of the conversation he’s going to have to endure later for letting this apparently unwelcome entity into their house. it’s my own fault, he tells himself. By now he should know better than to assume any stranger that comes calling is Red’s friend.
Slowly and cautiously Sans descends the stairs, stopping when he gets to the bottom step so as to not get too close to the altercation. Red has backed off from the Doctor, but keeps gritting his teeth and growling as the man stands there smiling at him.
“i ain’t gonna tell ya again ta get outta my house,” Red warns him.
“I’m not leaving. You and I have something we need to discuss,” the Doctor says.
“unless yer here ta tell me yer about ta croak ‘n want me ta know so i can dance in yer dust, i got nothin ta say ta ya,” comes Red’s response.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but no. I’m in very good health.”
“such a shame,” Red grumbles. Both men grow quiet but continue to stare daggers at each other, each standing their ground and unwilling to back down.
“r-red?” Sans finally manages to squeak out. They turn to look at him. “who is this?”
“he’s no one, honey,” Red replies calmly. “why don’tcha go finish makin dinner?”
“I’m not ‘no one’,” the man says, addressing Sans. “I’m his father.”