Chapter Text
After Sans got over his initial disgust at the fact that you were essentially a meaty skeleton, it felt as though he was at your apartment all the time.
You started finding more and more of his belongings scattered about, from his socks to his joke books to a comb that he liked to brush(??) his skull with. There were small changes all throughout your home as well, such as a shift in your diet to include more of his favorites (as much as he loved burgs, he sure seemed to enjoy vegetable rice bowls) or having a few bottles of condiments on hand for him to guzzle down like a weirdo. When he'd try to convince you to have a 'sip' yourself, you always declined: making it clear you loved and supported him, but also pointedly stated you were abso-fucking-lutely judging his sense of taste.
Not that you minded, really. You were happy to have him around more! He was surprisingly cuddly despite his gruff appearance and tolerated your shenanigans with the patience of a drunken saint. Which is to say he would watch the chaos unfold with a look of awe, horror, and resignation as he tried his best to make sure you didn't accidentally murder yourself. You had never thought you'd see a skeleton age, but sometimes you could swear he looked at least ten years older after stopping you from almost accidentally drinking rubbing alcohol because you mistook it for your water bottle for the umpteenth time.
And it wasn't as if he didn't return the favor by passing out from exhaustion on more than one occasion. Needless to say, you had gotten good at full-on baseball sliding to his rescue to catch him before he hit the ground. The first time it happened, it terrified you but he reassured you that it was fine. He just needed to "catch a few more zzz's" and he'd be right as rain—though he probably didn't expect your neurotic mother henning to jumpstart faster than a lawnmower on turbo crack because of it.
With some aggressive snuggling and tactical waterworks, you managed to get him to drop one of his million jobs and actually get some fucking sleep. He stayed the night at your place more and more, happy to purr and use you as a fleshy teddy bear, but you like to think he looked marginally less grumpy once your nefarious plan worked. (And you got the bonus of seeing him even more!)
It was only when there was SWAT levels of aggressive knocking on your door that you decided that maybe there was a problem. Especially when you peeked through the peephole only to find one burning, red eyelight staring right back at you in a way that definitely made you feel greatly terrible.
Oh, yep. That can't be good, you thought to yourself and held your finger over the peephole as you fumbled with your phone in the other hand.
From: You, 10:37 AM
Your scary ass brother is here
From: Sans, 10:38 AM
uhhhhhhh
"I JUST FUCKING SAW YOU," the Great and Terrible brother hissed through the wood and you half expected to see his claws wriggle their way under the door like something you'd see from a horror movie. "DON'T HIDE FROM ME, YOU COWARD."
Even you couldn't deny that, yeah, you were definitely hiding like a coward, and you unlocked the door, but left the chain in place in case you needed to use the door as a sacrifice in the event you needed to jump out the nearest window. Sans' brother still towered over you by like, eighty feet and his sharp, angled features made you feel like he could probably stab you with his cheekbones. You did your best to give him a friendly smile and not appear as though you were terrified of the skeleton dressed like Dracula on his way to a BDSM club.
"Heeey... You. Yoooou... Mr Great and Terrible."
"PAPYRUS," he reminded you with a growl that sounded both pissed and arrogant in the same breath. "LET ME IN."
You almost quoted the line from the "Three Little Piggies" book, but even you had the common sense to know that he'd probably pull some Mortal Kombat finishing move shit if you did. Instead, you unhooked the chain and not-so-subtly backpedaled several feet—not that his long-ass arms wouldn't be able to reach over and slap you into next millennia anyways.
"I'VE COME TO SEE IF YOU MEET THE STANDARDS REQUIRED TO BE A PART OF MY FAMILY," tall, dark, and grumpy sneered down at you as he shut the door behind him: effectively locking you in the room with him and the cup of coffee he held in his Edward Scissorhands mitts. "MY BROTHER HAS CERTAINLY BEEN SPENDING AN INORDINATE AMOUNT OF TIME HERE, SO THERE MUST BE SOME WORTH TO BE HAD."
"Uhhhh," you said in a manner that directly quoted Sans' unhelpful text and backed up more as he searched your entryway for something. "Sure!"
"Two Of A Kind, I See," he muttered, then snapped his head in your direction. "WHERE IS YOUR COAT RACK!?"
Your eyes immediately darted to the chair near the door that had a pile of both your jackets mixed in with some of Sans' laundry. He zeroed in on it in an instant, and stared at it with a stone cold expression as if the chair itself insulted his mother, spat in his mouth, and beat his ass like a set of bongos. Without saying a single word, he shoved his cup of coffee in your direction—which confirmed that he could, indeed, reach halfway across the room and smack you if he wanted to—and you hurried to take it without protest. The moment his hands were emptied, he set to folding the laundry and sorting through it with all the skill of a seasoned maid and unsure of what else to do, you eyed the cup in your hands to see just what the fuck kind of coffee skeletons drink.
When you saw that it was more coffee grounds than liquid, you resolutely decided that between this and the bottles of mustard Sans chugged, skeletons just didn't have taste buds. Unfortunate for them, but that didn't mean you wouldn't make fun of them for it when you were safely out of punching distance.
"Of Course His Soulmate Would Be Just As Much Of A Slob," he grumbled and fussed, and once he had two neat piles of clothes, he peeled off his jacket, folded it, and set it on top with the grace of an aristocrat. Then whipped around and snatched the cup from you. "NOW. IT IS TIME TO INSPECT THE FUTURE HOME OF MY BROTHER AND WHATEVER MISERABLE OFFSPRING THE TWO OF YOU MIGHT SPAWN AND INEVITABLY LOSE."
"Oh, I already have babies," you automatically said in response.
He let out an ungodly shriek that would put a banshee out of business, and you screamed in equal amounts of what you assumed was terror because you had a vampire skeleton screeching in your living room. It made him shut up fairly quickly as he squinted at you with a confused expression. "WHY ARE YOU SCREAMING!?"
"Why are you screaming??"
"HOW DID THAT SLIMY LITTLE SLEAZEBALL PRODUCE CHILDREN ALREADY?" Papyrus demanded and if he squeezed his cup of coffee grounds any tighter, you just knew that you'd be mopping that shit up the moment he left. "WHY WASN'T I INFORMED? WHAT ARE YOU PLOTTING, YOU TREACHEROUS LITTLE MEATSACK!? I HAVE EVERY RIGHT TO MEET THEM: YOU CAN'T KEEP THEM FROM FAMILY!"
You held your hands up in surrender, still not sure what the fuck he was going on about, but if he wanted to see your babies so badly, who were you to complain? Half squatted down in preparation of dive bombing out of the way of a potential slap, you somewhat awkwardly waddled backwards then motioned to your aquarium as if you were presenting the world's most valuable treasure (and you were ).
Papyrus stared at the foliage in it, then looked at you like he was about to call CPS. "You. Put Your Children In A Fish Tank?"
"Well, duh, where else would I keep them?" You rolled your eyes and opened the lid to grab the crab that was hidden by the log. It instantly pinched you for your transgression, but you held it out for inspection. "Tada! This one is Sir Bubbly Crusty, Knight of the Clawed Order."
"ALL THIS FUCKING TIME IT WAS ABOUT A CRAB!?" was the immediate response. "YOU HAVE CRABS!?"
Ah yes. He was definitely related to Sans. You nodded sagely as he gawked at you, then stepped aside as he picked up one of your pillows to scream into it incoherently. You still didn't really understand the big deal about your babies being crabs, but you guessed it must've been a Monster thing. Or maybe a skeleton thing? It was hard to say.
While Papyrus was screaming, you decided to slip your baby back in its tank, then went about making him some non-gritty coffee. You were in the process of watching your borderline antique coffee maker vomit out the darkened liquid when Sans burst through the front door: wheezing and sweating up a storm as he looked between you and his brother in terror that quickly melted into relieved resignation. Though you politely didn't comment on the situation as you weren't sure if it'd be rude to comment that you were two-for-two on making skeletons have meltdowns in your living room and that you were getting vaguely concerned about your growing track record.
"crabs?" is all he asked as he came into the kitchen to lean on your counter and watch his brother go through a mid-life crisis not unlike his own.
"Yeah, I showed him my baby and he's been doing that ever since," you replied and smacked your coffee maker when it made some god awful croaking noise. "You two are gonna give them a complex if this keeps up."
He raised his brows at you, but neither of you continued the conversation until Papyrus came up for air.
"I CANNOT BELIEVE—"
Annnd back to muffled screeching he went.
***
When he finally recovered from... Whatever kind of fit he was having, Papyrus positioned you and Sans side-by-side on the couch like you were a couple of teens that had been caught with your hands down each other's pants. He paced in front of you with his claws pinched over his nasal ridge and the cup of sludgy coffee grounds was clutched in the other hand like it was some sort of lifeline that would miraculously help him keep his sanity. Not that you fully understood why he felt he was going insane, mind you; you felt you had done everything in a perfectly normal fashion up until this point. It's not your fault they can't handle the beauty of your babies.
"Clearly I Misjudged The Gravity—And Stupidity—Of The Situation," Papyrus sighed out and took a hit of his gritty """"coffee"""" before he turned and leveled you both with a neutral stare. "But I Suppose Since You've Been Doing Everything By The Books, I Can't Complain Too Much About Your Apparent Hopelessness."
For some reason, that made Sans scrunch his shoulders up like he was trying to turtle into his jacket to hide from all his problems and beads of glowing red sweat broke out across his skull as he began to laugh nervously and stammer, "hah, ya see chief—well. you know... sometimes when a—er. when—heeeeeeheheh. we talked about that book last week! well we've been planning doin' the steps; m'boo has been real busy with work lately, haven't ya?"
He turned his head to give you a look that was absolutely screaming "please for the love of god roll with it", but that message didn't quite reach the gerbil driving your meat machine and you only twisted your face in confusion. "Huh? Oh, no, I've had the past two days off. You know I don't work weekends, Sans. I could've read a book if I was supposed to."
Sans immediately dropped his face into his hands to give a miserable groan. Papyrus' already small eyelights somehow shrank down even more while his body trembled like he was about to go nuclear on the fact you didn't do the homework you were unaware you had before he tipped his cup back and all but chugged the rest of his whatever-the-fuck-you-want-to-call-it like an alcoholic shotgunning whiskey. Once it was empty, he oh-so-calmly walked over to the trash, slam dunked the paper cup into it, then dramatically draped himself over the kitchen counter to bury his head in his arm and thump his fist on it while he semi-incoherently lamented over the fact that you both were disgraces to Monster-kind and how you didn't even have recycling.
"he has a dating manual that he follows like gospel," Sans eventually explained after he finished consoling himself over your lack of self-preservation. "and uh... yeah by its standards, we're doing everything all wrong."
"Please Tell Me The Two Of You Have At Least Gone On A Proper Date," the taller skeleton begged, "Please, For The Love Of The King—"
"hah."
"—Tell Me My Brother Is Competent Enough To Have Done That Much."
The awkward silence that followed was pretty telling, but you helpfully told him, "Well, we've spent time together on the 12th. That's a date on the calendar if it makes you feel better."
His following screech clarified that no, that did not make him feel better, but it drew a chuckle out of your soulmate so you reckoned that was still a win. It took a few minutes of him pleading with a deity (which might have also been himself, it was hard to tell who he was referring to when everything is either Great, Terrible, or Greatly Terrible with him), but he eventually managed to peel himself off your counter to come back over and glower down at the two of you with the disappointment of a thousand parents.
"I Won't Stand For This Treachery. No Brother Of Mine Is Going To Be Known As The Lout That Couldn't Even Take His Soulmate On A Date."
You hadn't really thought about it before, but yeah! It was a little odd that you've been together for weeks now and haven't had a single outing as a couple. You had always chalked it up to Sans' chaotic schedule, but it was still a little weird that the conversation had never even come up. Unless he was still a bit hung up on the fact that you were a fleshy meat skeleton and wasn't quite ready to reveal the fact his soulmate was "gross" to the world yet. That particular thought led to another, then led to another, then ended with "does he even think you're pretty?"—a thought that made you squirm uncomfortably because maybe he was ashamed of who his soulmate is.
Brow furrowed, you looked at him and asked him the hard-hitting question; "Do you think I'm pretty?"
Sans' head shot up out of his hands so fast you were afraid he just gave himself whiplash, but he didn't seem to care too much himself as his expression twisted in confused panic. "what? of course you're pretty, darlin'! pretty damn fine, heh... wh-why are you askin' all of a sudden?"
"GEEZ, I WONDER WHY."
He shot his brother a glare as you gave an equally confused shrug. "I dunno! Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?"
"what ? why would you think that?"
"Well, you've never been seen with me," you sheepishly pointed out, gradually feeling a bit more like an idiot for saying anything as your partner looked ready to have a hard reboot as he sputtered for something to respond with. "N-not that we have to be seen together! We're—yeah we're taking it slow, is all. I haven't even read the book of Mormon or whatever it is."
"LOOK, SANS! YOU'RE GIVING THE THING A COMPLEX," Papyrus declared with a dramatic sigh and his clawed fingertips pressed to his temple to shake his head. "YOU'RE GOING TO FIX THIS: NOW."
"chief—"
"I WON'T HEAR IT! The Two Of You Are Going On A Proper Date THIS INSTANCE."
You both stared up at him in shock at his proclamation as he loomed over you with his hands on his hips, unsure if he was serious or if he was just being dramatic. To which the answer was he was being dramatically serious because when neither of you moved, he snatched you both up by the collars of your shirts to haul you to the front door. You flailed as you stumbled to try to catch your balance, but Sans simply ragdolled and went with the flow since this was something that apparently happened often. Before you knew it, you were shoved out of the apartment, had your purse thrown haphazardly in your face, and your way back in barred by Papyrus as he glared at his brother, who was in the process of standing himself back up again.
"we're really doing this, huh boss?"
"Yes, You're 'Doing This'," he scoffed and gripped the door like a mother kicking her kids out to play outdoors for the day. "AND DON'T COME BACK UNTIL YOU'VE PROPERLY WOOED HER."
He slammed the door shut, but you instantly jiggled the handle with an indignant squawk as the situation caught up to you. "But this is my apartment, you asshole!"
The only thing that you got in response was a kick against the other side of the door and the realization that he had locked you out while you lacked the keys to get back in. Bastard. You turned to Sans as if he might have the answers to this predicament, but he only rubbed the back of his skull with a bit of an embarrassed grin and awkwardly nodded down the hall to gesture you towards the exit of the apartment. In turn, you looked down at your jean shorts and oversized t-shirt with coffee stains paired with house sandals. Not that he was dressed much better: you both looked borderline homeless and in some vain attempt to 'pretty up', you tied a knot in your shirt at your hip so it didn't hang off your frame so loosely then took his hand to begin your impromptu date.
Neither of you said anything until you were going down the front steps, where he had to catch you before you faceplanted into the concrete from tripping on thin air and he held your arms as a perplexed expression came over his face. "... i do think you're pretty. and i ain't ashamed of you or some stupid shit like that. i just like havin' alone time with ya, that's all. don't gotta worry about people hurtin' or swipin' ya as much if we're safe at home."
His reassurances and explanation made you feel touched, and definitely helped put the sudden doubts at ease, though now you kind of felt guilty for doubting him at all. The complexities of the human mind sure did baffle you sometimes with how it liked to flip flop for no damn reason, but you pushed it all aside to give him your best impression of a dazzling smile as he helped you stand upright again. There was a lot of things you wanted to ask—like why he was so concerned about people murdering you, who the hell has a dating manual, and can you borrow it because you're a bit of a social wreck—but you ultimately decided that maybe now isn't the time for some of those. Instead, you went for a good ol' classic to try to help ease the situation and show him that you weren't really all that hung up on your looks. Or so you hoped.
"As long as you don't trap me in a basement and starve me, I'm good with spending plenty of alone time with you," you chirped as you clutched the strap of your purse and hopped out onto the sidewalk to look both ways and contemplate your prospects.
It had the intended effect, because he barked out a surprised and mildly panicked laugh as he hurriedly trailed after you; his hands fluttering in the air like nervous butterflies like he could somehow reassure you on a concern that you weren't actually concerned about. "what? sweetheart, no! what the fuck, where did that come from?"
"I dunno, I just felt like saying it," you replied innocently and faced him. "Did you have somewhere you'd like to go for our 'first date'? I think the only places that'd accept us looking like this might be McDonald's or backwater gas station 'restaurants' with creepy trucker dudes."
Sans did not look thrilled by your suggestions and if you had to guess, he now looked like he aged a solid twenty years during the whole exchange as he stared at you blankly. You stared back as you waited patiently for him to decide on a place he'd like to go, because he was clearly under a lot of pressure to come up with something on the spot that'd make you both happy and you didn't want him to feel rushed. Slowly, he let out a sigh and rubbed a hand over his face as if that could get rid of the bags under his eyes and he finally gave you a more relaxed, amused grin as he jerked his thumb over his shoulder.
"let's check out that coffee shop that boss likes to rave about."
"Is that the place that gave him that cup of coffee grounds with a spit of liquid?"
He snickered and nodded as he stuffed his hands in his pockets while the two of you began the walk towards said location. "yeah, though we might hafta order 'n run; chief's really grinding their gears in there and i'd hate to get dusted as collateral."
"I'm sure it's not that bad, but maybe we can order to go anyways and go find a private spot to hide until he lets us come home. We can catch up on 'Survivorman: Bigfoot Edition' in the park too."
That earned you a sound of approval and with that, the itinerary of your first date was set in stone.