Chapter Text
Sans’ shorts were a lot more loose on you than expected. So loose that you had to double knot the short’s drawstring. Looking into the mirror, you frowned at your reflection: you were looking frumpier than usual. Is this how you looked with Sans a couple of minutes ago? Because if so, that’d be awful. But then again, he had already seen you spew all over some poor guy’s car, so fashion was mundane at this point. You sighed, there was no use dwelling on first impressions. Now your job was to redeem yourself. Unfortunately, that sort of thing was easier said than done.
Slipping on your shoes, you made haste out the door, only to startle as a taller figure was a-loom the door. A pair of narrowed eye sockets glowered a foot or so above you, prompting you to reel back.
“HUMAN,” It was another skeleton. An awfully loud skeleton, at that. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY BROTHER’S ROOM?” Before you could answer, he spoke up again. “MORE IMPORTANTLY, WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOME?” His tone was chiding, borderline threatening.
Well shit. “W-well I, u-umm…you see, I-I...” Good God, you couldn’t stop the word vomit from coming up. The dude was a monstrous size, no pun intended. With a stomp of his red heels, he could definitely crush you. Crush you into crumbly bits of anxiety and dust.
The tall skeleton eyed you incredulously. “WELL? SPIT IT OUT, HUMAN!” You cowered back even more; all you wanted was some breakfast. Not this.
“leave the doll alone, boss. they’re with me.” You both turned to Sans, who seemed to be developing a habit of popping up everywhere, your personal space included. “we’re goin’ out for breakfast. wanna join?” You beamed, never had you been so happy to see him, leather jacket and all.
The towering skeleton made a face, one you’d see on a constipated man. “BREAKFAST? WITH YOU TWO? HA! I’D RATHER CHOKE ON MY OWN VOMIT!” Ouch. This guy could cut deep.
Real deep.
Sans, however, didn’t seem to give it a second thought. “whatever ya’ say, boss.” Were you hearing him right, or was he calling this guy ‘boss’? Sans turned to you with a ‘you totally owe me’ smirk. “by the way, you look preeety sansational in those clothes, sweetheart.” He stared at you hazily, making you shift from foot-to-foot. Sometimes, it was really difficult to get a read on him.
“T-Thanks, I guess,” You smoothed out your crumply shorts, patting the phone and wallet in your pockets. “You ready to head out?”
Sans grinned. “thought you’d never ask. i’m starvin’.” He patted his nonexistent stomach and you couldn’t help but find the sight amusing. “gotta put some meat on these bones, ‘ya know?”
“Oh definitely,” You giggled. Never had you met such a punny individual. “Let’s get rollin’, bonehead.”
The taller skeleton rolled his eye sockets at your playful exchanges. “GEEZ, GET A ROOM YOU TWO,” His frown suddenly upturned, now possessing a cheshire cat likeness. “OH WAIT, YOU ALREADY HAVE.”
WHAT?! You flushed, your heart racing as quickly as the blood rushing to your face. “I-It wasn’t like that.” You knew it looked exactly like what he was implying.
“OH BUT OF COURSE IT WASN’T. BESIDES, I WOULD ASSUME YOU’RE PRETTY ACCUSTOMED TO WAKING UP IN STRANGER’S BEDS, NO?” He shot you a roguish grin.
You were at a loss of words. Damn his callosity! With pursed lips and a beet red face, you walked past the savage skeleton and stood yourself at Sans’ side. He lives with the guy. He’d know what to do...right?
“easy with the insults, boss,” Lucky you, your intuition was right. “i mean, jus’ look at ‘em. they’re rattled to the bone.” This ballsy boi.
You were about to laugh when Mr. Savage screeched for the two of you to leave: “NO NO NO! NO PUNS! I’M SICK OF THEM! MAKE YOUR HEINOUS JOKES ELSEWHERE!”
“okay, boss.” And with that, Sans dragged you downstairs. Seems like Sans wasn’t the only one ready to blow this joint.
The two of you now stood in the driveway with clasped clammy hands. Despite how awful that sounded, it was oddly comforting. Plus it wasn’t like you minded holding hands with him, it was quite frankly the other way around. You couldn’t wipe that stupid smile off your face.
That is, until you took a gander at the side of his car.
“Sans?” You asked, not sure if you wanted your question answered.
“yeah?”
“Remember that time you said I threw up on some poor sap’s car?”
Sans huffed. “yep. why do ‘ya ask?”
“Were you..,” No… it couldn’t be. This had to be some crazy coincidence. It just had to be. “W-Were you the sad sap?” God please say no. Don’t let this be my doing. Or at the very least, lie to me and say it wasn’t.
He stayed silent, scratching sheepishly at his neck. That wasn’t a yes, but that wasn’t a no either.
You paled. “You were, weren’t you?”
Sans sighed, exasperated. “alright alright! so mayyybe ‘ya spewed a wee bit on my car. no biggie,” He shrugged, the fluff on his jacket popping up with him. “if it makes ‘ya feel any better, we’re gonna head to the wash to uh… wash away the night’s mistakes.”
Your gaze drifted from Sans, to the bile pile stained on his humble car. That must’ve been one hell of a purge if it was STILL dripping off the passenger door. “I-I’m sorry.” You mumbled, a sense of dread piling in your empty stomach.
“eh, don’t stress it, doll. believe it or not, i’ve dealt with this barf fore.” He said, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “now c’mon. this car ain’t gonna wash itself.”
You let out some nervous laughter. Oh my goodness, you egg! Why of all things to throw up on, you chose to heave on Sans’ car? You would never forgive drunk you for a long time. “O-ok” You nodded like everything was okay, even though things clearly weren’t okay. With a cautious hand, you managed to enter the car without tracing in any of the aforementioned ‘night’s mistakes’.
The engine whirred and in an instant, the radio went a-playing. Sans rolled down the windows (more than likely to air out the vile smelling car) and tapped the steering wheel to the more than recognizable beat. “know who sings this masterpiece, doll?” Sans asked. It was Bon Jovi’s Bad Medicine, a great song you must say.
You pshhed. What kind of question was that? “Bon Jovi.“ He must’ve thought you lived under a rock or something. Guess the boy was under a dose of bad medicine himself.
“‘atta baby,” Sans cooed as he leaned over the opened window, looking to back up. “y’know, i thought paps was the only one out there who liked my music,” He turned back to you as he merged on the road. “then you came along.” With an oh-so genuine smile, he raised the volume up slightly.
“Paps?” You tilted your head.
“yeah, paps,” He repeated. “he’s the big fella’ ‘ya saw this mornin’, aka my baby bro.”
“What?!” You yelped. Oh no, you were gawking. “U-Um, I mean,” You cleared your throat, feeling like an idiot. “I-I mean, really? He doesn’t look much like a baby.”
Sans laughed as he turned a corner. “nah, sweetheart. baby’s jus’ a term of endearment. the guy’s over drinkin’ age.”
You flushed. “Oh,” Well now you looked stupid. “S-Sorry. I just...don't feel like myself today.” You leaned back in your seat, now flustered and confused.
“oh? is that so?” He asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.
You fidgeted in place. “Yeah. Must be ‘cause I’m hungry.”
“i would assume so. ‘ya really did a number on my car, sweetheart,” He joked half-heartedly. “hey.”
“What’s up?”
“thanks for taggin’ along. ‘means a lot to me.”
You gave him a gentle smile. “Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” You said in an instant. Crap, was that too flirty?
Sans didn’t seem to mind, so you assumed he was alright with your flattery. “thanks doll. now let’s skedaddle. this car ain’t gonna wash itself.”
“Aye aye captain.” Once Sans pulled into the booth, you opened the door carefully, as if you were afraid it might fall off. You exited just as carefully, squeamishly planting your feet on the ground, not wanting to touch the mess you made.
“hope you’re ready to get wet, pussycat.” Sans patted the hood of his car with one hand and jingled around a handful of coins in the other. “wait right here. i gotta put some coin in.”
“O-Okay.” You waved stiffly, watching him pace off to the pay booth. Baby come back~, a little voice in your head sang alluringly. You pinched yourself, as to control the clogging pheromones in your system. Who were you, a horny teenager? Stop that.
“Damn it.” You huffed, exasperated with your sparking emotions. With a few passing moments of wandering gazes and humming, you were able to burn some time before Sans returned.
“alrighty, we’re set. grab one of them wiper thingamabobs or whatever they’re called.”
You giggled, amused at his labelling. “I think it’s called a squeegee.” No, you knew it was called a squeegee. Your mother told you so and by god, did that lady know everything or what?
Sans rolled his eyelights. “yeah yeah. you know what i meant. now stand back, dolly,” With a grunt, he lugged the hose to the passenger’s side. “gotta get that gunk off my ride.”
You took a big step back, cringing at the sight of your attractive skeleton friend washing your vomit off his car. This sure screamed romantic, huh? “I’m sorry.” You muttered punily, wishing your humiliation would wash away with the sludge. He didn’t seem to hear you over the water pump’s motor.
“damn, this hose is bitchin!” Sans exclaimed, his face lit up with an odd sense of excitement as he sprayed the rest of his car animatedly. His outburst and off-color behavior caught you off guard, but you ended up laughing at both.
“Oh my stars, you’re actin’ like it's a weapon!” You choked, bent over at the waist in a fit of giggles.
“anything’s a weapon if ‘ya try hard enough, doll,” He laughed, smiling wickedly. “now i’d get runnin’ if i were you.” And with that, he aimed the hose at you.
NOPENOPENOPENOPENOPENOPENOPENOPENOPE.
You quickly jumped back with a squeal and ran a couple of yards away’ leaving Sans chortling.
“bwahahahaha! sweetheart, come back!,” He doubled over with more belly gut laughter as he attempted to call out to you. “I-i was ‘jus… s-sweetheart! the water timed out already, knucklehead.” He was barely hanging in there, red teardrops streaming down his cheekbones. But the most prominent thing about him was that awful snorting of his. It was loud and sounded like an old car horn. However, for some inexplicable reason, it was oddly attractive.
You flushed at the perverse thought and meandered back to the booth sheepishly. “You’re such an ass.”
Sans shrugged. “yeah, but it gotcha’ to stop teasin’ me, sweetie ‘n that’s all that matters.”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t count on that, bonehead.” You quipped, not missing a beat.
Sans tsked, playfully punching your shoulder. “‘just get in the car, loser. we’ve got some food to eat.”
“But what about the squeegee? Don’t we have to wipe down the car?”
“nevermind that, sweetheart. if we dun leave now, we won’t get our half-off breakfast.”
You swung athletically into the car, curtly shutting the door behind you. “Half-off breakfast? Then what the hell are we doing here? Get movin’, lazybones! Drive drive!”
The wheels squealed beneath you as Sans peeled out of the booth, his music now on a mood-setting full blast and his eye sockets fixated on the road. You headbanged fervently to the music, not stopping to wonder what was becoming of you. You couldn’t care less about the strange stares passerby traffickers were shooting you.
All you knew was that a plate of discounted flapjacks were calling your name. And by god were you gonna answer.