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He’s done this a million times.
Okay, probably not a million. Probably. But really, who was counting? Definitely not him. If he started counting, he’d end up nutty as old man Gaster, ha-ha.
He’s only joked about that once. The results were…less than funny. But he still thinks it, unbidden, usually around Alphys. Usually on a good run, when Undyne makes it to The Confession.
(How many events has he started giving capital letters to?
Not counting. A million. It is isn’t important.)
Anyway. When she makes it to The Confession, and they’re both on the same page, finally, and Sans thinks about how it must seem like such a long time for both of them, such a final finally. An entire lifetime of waiting to both admit they want to be with each other.
But hey, that’s shorter than a million lifetimes, more or less, so he…
Nah, though, he doesn’t hold it against them, he doesn’t ruin it again, not ever, they’re too sweet together. He just thinks about it, thinks about counting and that wacky ol’ Gaster, that lovable nut…
(God rest the dust he never was.)
Anyway, a million times. A million and one. Heh, it turned into a kids’ game if he thought like that. He still remembered learning “infinity” and using it to win arguments with Papyrus until Pap upped the stakes to “infinity plus one”, which led to “infinity plus two”, which led to “infinity plus infinity” and it looped back around again so there was…
(No point, infinity plus infinity and back to the start.)
Well, they started doing rock-paper-scissors after that at any rate. He had expected Papyrus to stay a petulant child always choosing rock forever, but these days, with his puzzle obsession, it was less than even odds.
(Except he knew every move he was going to throw down to a science the only thing that ever ever changed was)
People underestimated him, really. Sans wished sometimes the loop had landed on a better set of his puzzles, he had a tendency to look at the truly devious ones and mutter something about “far too simple” and scrap them for something more…avant-garde. He was glad to see the kid play along, though, when they did.
They had this time. It was a good run, and that was putting him in a good mood.
Actually, they hadn’t so much as harmed a single SOUL, now that he thought about it. Not one? No, not one. Sometimes he really thought they had gotten through and realized at the last moment he’d forgotten a moment of anger or frustration, just one little slip that…
Why did it feel like it mattered?
It was impressive, at any rate. He’d seen them with Jerry and how they had clenched their teeth and the little jerky strangling motions their hands had made, the usual reaction of anyone to Jerry no harm no foul there, but they had just run off. No wrath even for Jerry? What was the world coming to?
(Not an end. Ever.
And if it changed then what would he)
Whoa, Sans. Slow it down, bro. Eyes on the prize.
It was a heck of a prize, after all.
It had started before the loop set in, which was good, because otherwise it’d be, y’know. Weird. Trying to get someone to fall for you a million and three times…actually, that just sounded tiring, really. And he was tired a lot these days.
(These days were tired, they’d been reused too many times)
But it had happened in the usual fashion, little glances here, little comments there, building up gradually. You could call it…a slow burn.
If it had been a little faster, he would have just done it the once.
It was the same thing every time, the same little advances, the same gifts left on the countertop after closing, not because he thought he’d blow it, but because it felt like…cheating, otherwise. Not in any way that made sense, but, heh, what did make sense? Might as well make his own rules.
He almost started thinking about how love was a puzzle complex enough for Pap to be proud of, realized how dumb it sounded, cut himself off.
Instead, he pushed a cold french fry around his plate and thought about entropy. Both because he had seen this exact same plate of fries cooked a million plus a million times and the last few always cooled nasty and starchy and then a run later they’d be hot again without a single atom in the world ever being changed, and because the last other customer was leaving and that meant it was time for The Entropy Line.
“…Sans. You’re quiet tonight. Is something wrong with your food?”
Sans grinned down at the counter before looking up.
“Hey. Grillster.”
Grillby sighed and adjusted his glasses and let it slide, again.
“Do you know how long it’s gonna take for the stars to burn out?”
“I saw you replacing a few of them this morning.”
“Nah, man, Surface stars. Not some ritzy crystals, the real deal.”
“Isn’t it a little late for Trivia Night?” Grillby turned and started cleaning a glass. “It’s not even Thursday.”
“The biggest number, Grillbs. Bigger than monsters or humans can figure.” He broke a french fry in half, he always saved the same one for gesturing with. “That many years to the heat death of the universe.”
“I’ll be sure to wear my good suit.”
“Heh. You better, and you better save the date, ‘cause when the last star burns out…” Sans’ grin widened, one of the few real smiles he was guaranteed each time for time out of time. “…you’ll still be just as hot to me.”
Glass, drop, break. A delight each cycle, not as much so as the flustered crackling blue flames around Grillby’s edges as he whipped around.
“…S-Sans…”
They didn’t say anything then, as usual, just their hands slowly entwining, stroking each other, a monstrous species of kiss, more intimate than what others did with lips and tongue, slow, lingering.
(You can’t live here.)
It was a sharp jab of a thought, and he shoved it as far away as possible, made a fuss of pulling away as Grillby’s hands started a slow ascent up his arms.
“Hey. Slow down, man.”
Sans tipped a wink, endlessly, infinity plus infinity but no tagbacks, not ever.
“It’s my first time.”