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So hey.
You’re a human that just needs a little lovin.
That’s fine. Everyone goes through a bone-dry spell once in a while. (Please clap). No one can judge you or shame you for it. That, and you found normal people to be a bit too… fleshy for your taste. And sometimes you may walk by the graveyard and start feeling incredibly blasphemous things, but well… we don’t need to get into that. What? That’s not what you’re into? Okay, fine, whatever helps you sleep at night.
Anyways, you’re off to a great start in life. After all, you’re a college student with a sassy attitude! You’re kind of sad but mostly just pretentious. You keep to yourself but have jerky co-workers, and you may or may not be kind of full of yourself. Not your fault though.
That was when you spotted a short skeleton monster that had just moved in the house next to yours and begin to feel those same incredibly blasphemous things for it. Unlike another, taller skeleton monster, you don’t have any standards.
So you decided to ask him out.
“hey, kiddo,” he greets you, hands in his pockets. “you just walked up on my front lawn without any invitation. or saying anything.”
To your joy, he has no skin, true to his skeleton heritage. Just what you’re looking for. Ever since the ancient barrier broke, all kinds of monsters had moved to the surface and lived with humans in their cities and towns. Some of humanity hadn’t accepted them though. But unlike them, you have no such prejudices. You’re just so open-minded. And a bonus: the skeleton was also wearing slippers! Which you find adorable, for some weird reason.
That and he’s grinning. Wow. He must really be excited to see you! You ask him for his name.
“i’m sans. sans the skeleton. what about you?”
You open your mouth to speak and a long, farting noise just came out of nowhere. You snap your jaw shut.
Sans’ grin widens a bit. “wow, that’s pretty gross of you. i only asked for your name, you know.”
You open your mouth again. You hear farting again.
The skeleton is shaking in what you assume to be laughter. “i think you need to have that checked out. can’t be good for you.”
You wait a moment, shame building up inside you. You part your lips just slightly, and out of the air, a slight little poot! accompanies you.
You finally notice that Sans is holding a whoopee cushion in his hand. “heh, it’s always funny.”
You feel like crying, because you could never handle jokes at your own expense. But you pull through, lying and agreeing with him. It’s fine. Everything’s fine!
“okay, for real. what’s your name?”
You open your mouth for the final time, and the front door of Sans’ house slams open.
“BROTHER. YOU SAID YOU WOULD HELP ARRANGE MY ACTION FIGURES FOR THE MANTLEPIECE. THERE ARE COLOR COORDINATES TO CONSIDER. THAT AND I BROKE THE MANTLEPIECE.”
“sure thing, bro.” Sans turns away before you could do anything, strolling leisurely to his home.
In desperation, you call out to him and ask if you wanna meet up sometime at that coffee shop? Do skeletons like coffee? I mean, who doesn’t, right?
Sans turns back. He actually looks a bit confused, but eases that away with a wink. “you’re pretty forward. but okay then. must be a human thing.”
You ignore the fact that you can actually hear the wink he gave you, and how gross it was when you thought about it. Also, that this skeleton had eyelids to begin with, but hey, prejudices. You don’t have any, obviously.
You nod your head, saying goodbye to him.
“k. see ya later…” He then squeezes the whoopee cushion in his hand again, in replacement for your name. He chuckles at that, and shuts the door.
If you had common sense, you’d wonder why you kept making bad choices like this. But remember? No standards! None at all! Let’s keep this train wreck going.
DATING START!
…Or it would be, but you’ve been waiting at the coffee shop for almost an hour, and Sans wasn’t here still. The place was packed in the mid-afternoon, and though you have a pumpkin spice latte (breaking barriers, aren’t ya?) in hand, you feel like the scum of the earth. But just as you were about to write on your blog with your phone about your terrible life, the skeleton finally walks in.
“heya,” he greets, pulling up a chair at the corner table you’ve chosen. “sorry. took a wrong shortcut.”
You don’t bring up the fact that this coffee place was literally just five blocks away from his house. You’re just happy your skeleton crush is here. You don’t think too hard about the phrasing on that last part.
“so.” He puts his hands back in his pockets, tilts his chair back slightly like the cool guy he was. “whatcha feeding me?”
You blink, not expecting that. You stutter out that he can have anything he wants. After all, it’s not like he was actually going to make you pay for all of it, right?
“hey, neat. just get me two of everything.” He closes his eyes, and keeps leaning his chair back and forth in soothing, rocking motions.
You wait for a moment, but Sans isn’t making any moves. You wonder if the monster even has his wallet. You also notice that he’s still wearing his slippers. Here, in public. On your coffee date.
Because you have no backbone, you go up to the counter and order two of everything, like he asked. You assume that you’re ordering two because he’s keeping you in mind. You think about how thoughtful he is! It makes the charges on your credit card sting a little less.
Struggling with all the coffee holders and neat, paper bags in the world, you bring everything to the table. Sans just barely acknowledges that you’re there.
“wow, you went overboard. not that i’m complaining.” He takes a bag, popping a whole blueberry muffin into the vast, cold darkness that was his mouth. You don’t think about that.
Back in your seat, you decide to get this date started. You are going to properly introduce yourself, showing just why this skeleton would love going out with you. But not in too obvious of a manner, because you don’t have any actual self-esteem. Yet if you play your cards right, you can maybe make him feel sympathy for you, and maybe have him whisper that nah, babe, you are worth something. That you were pretty and kind and obviously full of very interesting things. Just like all those dating games you’ve played.
Sans then gathers all the snacks and drinks you bought, hefting them in his arms like nobody’s business. “welp, gotta run. i promised my brother i’d get him some grub. his name’s papyrus, by the way. you’d like him.” He’s already at the coffee shop entrance before you could even blink. “thanks for treating me.” Then he left.
You stare at your receipt for a while after that.
You ring the doorbell to the skeleton’s household once more, your face twitching slightly. Why? Because you were DETERMINED. That, and you were always a stubborn brat that couldn’t take no for an answer.
After two hours, the door finally opens. It’s Sans.
“heya. you’ve been, uh, going at that thing for a while, huh?” A long pause. You can hear the way his joints creak with each movement. It was really unsettling to listen to. Or that was what you would have been thinking if you were prejudiced. Which you weren’t. “so, what’s up?”
You bluntly tell him how you found him attractive and would like to go on an actual date with him. Candelight, soft music, all the works. You even got some of the expensive whole milk at the store, because skeletons loved that stuff. Probably.
Sans was still smiling (he hasn’t exactly stopped in the two days you’ve known him) and you were feeling confident that he’d be awed by your tenacity.
“nah, i’m good,” he says, and begins to shut the door.
In a fit of inspiration, you lodge your foot inside before he could close it completely. You start to get a cramp.
Sans’ eyes sockets angle slightly in annoyance. That was new. “kid, come on.” Then those pupils of his (at least, that must be what they are) brightens up. “you’re cramping my style.”
You’re not sure you get the joke. Instead, you beg him to hear you out.
“sorry, i’m not all ears like some people.” He gestures to his skull.
Sans was actually still trying to shut the door on you, despite his relaxed stance. So you try one last ditch effort to get this skeleton thing to like you. You ask him to bone you.
Sans says nothing at first, but his grip loosened on the door. He starts to laugh. That’s it! You got him!
“heh, good one,” he winks again, setting your heart aflutter somehow. “alright, sure.”
How easy was this? You wait for him to invite you into his house.
Instead, he throws a bone at your face, hitting you squarely on the forehead. You land on your back, feeling nothing but pain. There is an actual bump forming on your head. Ow. Ow.
“there ya go.” Sans gives you a thumbs up, which you can barely see through your blurry vision. “have fun, and uh, you can keep that thing.” The door finally shuts.
To your discovery, bones just weren’t that comfortable.
You track Sans wherever he went, at the hot dog cart he sometimes mans at a street corner, (His job?? You guess??) at the school where he and a goat monster would wave goodbye to some kid, and out on the streets when he walked around with that tall brother of his. It’s not always easy. Actually it never is, because then he’d just vanish around a corner, leaving you as bereft and alone as your cold, dead, but still beating heart. But you were DETERMINED, and you wouldn’t give up your love. Or you were just one dedicated stalker. Same difference, really.
On another of these stalks, you track him back on the sidewalk as he walked home. You are not at all inconspicuous, literally only ten feet away with no other person outside besides you and this skeleton. That and you’re breathing kinda heavily. Should probably work on that.
Sans was busy though, tapping bony fingers away at his phone, not minding the dirt and grime his slippers are picking up on the way. He’s chuckling every minute or so, each one more forceful than the last. He even once went so far as to almost land on his side from whatever funny thing he was reading. “heh heh, bonely, man that’s still a good one, tori.”
The sound of a woman’s name makes you particularly huffy. You mumble murderous things under your breath. Who is that anyway? Probably some old lady. Yeah! Old!!! That was a great insult.
“better watch that language, kiddo.”
Sans is suddenly in front of you, stance all nonchalant. Doesn’t matter that he’s three feet shorter than you. Somehow, he’s still intimidating with that grin. You heart goes aflutter again because there’s something seriously wrong with you. Great. You mean great. There’s something seriously great about you and you’re perfect and every skeleton should love you even if you get depressed sometimes. :(
“if you got something to say there, fartmaster, you should just say it.” He takes his hands out of his pockets, pointing two fingers at you like guns. Guns that were made from skeletons. “it’s been fun the past two weeks with you tailing me, but the joke’s getting old now. and i’m not much of a fan of repeat performances.”
This was it. You were either going all in or folding. You open your mouth again.
Pffffbbbbbttttt!!
Sans is holding up the whoopee cushion, looking not at all guilty. “heh, okay, last time. for real. go ahead.” He puts the prank toy away.
You struggle to gather your thoughts, but finally got everything in order. You tell him how much you liked him from afar, how cool he seemed like all those guys from your Japanese animes, but that you could tell he was harboring a lonely, tortured soul. You also knew of such pain and could heal him. You felt you were the only one that could truly understand a skeleton man like him. If only he could give you a chance!
You wait for your expected happy ending.
Sans’ face makes the skeletal equivalent of what might have been a raised eyebrow. “so. uh, that’s a thing you’re into.” He shifts his pupils from left to right. “welp, this got uncomfortable.” He winks. “see ya never.”
Before he did his weird disappearing act again, you grab his jacket to keep him here. That’s it. Enough with this crap. Time to actually admit what you really want. Because you were never good at social cues to begin with.
You ask him if he could at least bone you. Actually bone you. With his penis. Please, you deserve at least this much. And lovemaking always changed people, and after that, he’d have to like you! A little bit!
Sans is actually looking super confused. And frustrated. “personal space?” he asks, and grabs your wrists to pull you off of him. Rather strongly. Ow. Actually, you kinda like it-
“okay, stop that.” He pushes you back. “look, uh, whatever your name is. i’m not a relationship kind of guy. takes effort. and with you? there’d be much more of that than i’m used to. so, uh, no, alright, buddy?”
Okay, but what about the boning part then?
Sans doesn’t look pleased. “you know i don’t have any of that kind of stuff right?”
You’ve always been slow on the upkeep, so you blink, mouth agape like a very special fish.
Sans gestures at his shorts.
“there is literally nothing going on down there. nada. zilch.”
Oh. You were hoping skeleton monsters were different. You ask him about how he had magic, didn’t he? Like all monsters? Couldn’t he just… magic one up?
You realize how incredibly stupid that sounds out loud. Sans’ expression says that he agrees with you.
“you’re kind of a freak, huh?”
Oh, yeah.
You start to cry a little.
“oh, you’re doing that now,” you hear him say. He sighs in frustration. A bony hand pats your head kind of hard, despite how short he is. You don’t think about it. “come on, lighten up.”
You finally do, and look back at him, eyes watery and heaving slightly. Sans is still grinning, but it’s rather tight, wishing it could be anywhere else but here.
“look, i’m sorry i can’t make any of your skeleton fantasies come true. i know i’m quite the catch. like, literally, people throw me up and catch me in the air. it’s undyne’s favorite thing now. but anyway,” he shrugs, already far beyond apathetic to do much of anything else. “you can probably find someone else. someone not me. never me. what’d ya say?”
But, you start to say, that was impossible! Once you go skeleton, you can’t go back…a ton? You cringe. So does Sans.
“yeah, just leave the hilarious jokes to me.” Then he blinks, bony eyelids making a slight clacking sound as he does so. “hey, new idea. my brother is better at this whole dating shingdig than i am. has a handbook and everything. how about i hook you two up? he’s a skeleton. you’re a skeleton-loving weirdo. works out.”
You briefly think back to that tall skeleton that Sans hangs out with a lot. That guy with the red scarf, the constant screaming, and cart of spaghetti containers he keeps dragging around the neighborhood?
“yeah, him,” Sans answers, rocking back and forth on his heels. “paps the coolest, ain’t he?”
You have no idea how to answer that, but Sans doesn’t wait for you. “so, we got a deal or what?”
Despite that your love for Sans would be undying, you humbly agree. Maybe if he saw how nice and romantic you were with his brother, he might get jealous and want you to himself! That’s how romantic plots worked. And Sans certainly seemed just like the jealous type! Really! You agree even more adamantly.
“cool, cool.” Sans closes his eyes, his face a white, pale expanse. “just a word of advice, kid.”
When he opens his eyes, all you can see is blackness.
Oh.
You were going to die, huh?
You see the following words more than hear them.
“Try any funny business with my brother, and you’re gonna have a bad time.”
Sans blinks, and the darkness leaves. He’s grinning wide, pupils shining with a secret that only he knew.
“come by later and i’ll introduce you both. just be sure to give him a gift. actually, hold on, i got a spare.” He digs deep into his pocket, and pulls out several dry pasta noodles that were snail-shaped. About five or so. You hold them carefully in your hand.
“you’re welcome,” he says, then walks off. You make the mistake of blinking, because he’s gone in an instant.
It’s not really easy shaking off that brief bout of terror. But hey, you got a date! With someone else. That’s… that’s something.
So you went along with it. You dated Papyrus, your ears full of Wowies! Your eyes full of Puzzles! And always, always romantic dinnertimes filled with frozen spaghetti. But you could weather through all that, because, strange as it was, Papyrus was the perfect boyfriend. He was charming, funny, and always took you out on the town. And although you’d been knocked out cold by his flailing arms more times then you could count, he’d always fuss over you, scared that he had hurt his beloved human date friend. No one had ever shown you such kindness, such actual love. You begin to think that, finally, for the first in a long time, you would be happy.
Until Papyrus realized he didn’t really feel the same way about you and broke up with you three weeks later.
So there you are, sitting on the front step of your house, lamenting your life that had just been full of bad choices. A labyrinth of terrible, horrible choices.
“that’s rough, buddy.”
You turn to find Sans leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets, looking down at you with, um… well, you weren’t sure. You suppose you never really could read him all that well.
“paps did try though. but i guess old habits die hard.” He must have noticed your puzzled expression, because then he says, “oh, didn’t i tell ya? he tried dating another human once, but it didn’t work out. i mean, that kid was like ten though. or seven? i can’t figure it out.” He blinks. “how old are you anyway?”
You tell him.
“yikes, think you’d know better by now.”
You’re beginning to think you don’t like Sans very much.
“what’s with that look?” But he’s laughing, though he keeps his rictus grin. Bones rattle underneath his coat. “here, have one on me. for your troubles.” He hands you over a hot dog, the kind that he sold on his hot dog cart. You take it.
There’s no meat inside the bun. No relish, no ketchup, no mustard. Just. Bun. All bun.
You turn to him. He winks back.
“the rest costs extra. only 500G.”
G?
“gold,” he clarifies.
Well, damn, you don’t have that kind of currency. You have actual paper bills on you instead.
“yeah, that’s just as fine.” Sans holds out his hand. “20 bucks then.”
Because you’re at a low point in your life where people can easily take advantage of you, you robotically say you’ll pay. You were pretty hungry actually.
“did i say 20?” Sans said lazily. “i meant 200.”
With a little attitude, you say you don’t have that much money on you.
“too bad. usually i give discounts to my friends.”
Both of you wait for a little while.
“well, see ya.” He gives you a little wave, promptly walking off in the opposite direction of his house.
Frowning, you look at your hot dog bun. The only thing you’ve gotten out of all this. That, and a credit card bill. And that bone which you should probably get rid of, or people might start asking questions.
Oh, and a restraining order from your skeleton neighbors.
But hey.
I’m sure someone’s still rootin’ for ya, kid.