Chapter Text
The area had been without sunshine for weeks.
October ended and November began, and immediately so did the cold fronts. Surely the temperature hadn't surpassed freezing point since, so, out of all the days to get snowed in, who decided that this one had been most appropriate?
"sheesh."
A familiar voice came up beside you, having been staring likely too long out the doors at the end of the hallway, longer than any other student had. In all honesty, you'd assumed you were alone by this point, what with your bright idea to wait out the snowstorm and everything. But it didn't come as too much of a shock to you to find that Sans had probably taken just as long simply fishing his things out of his locker to leave.
"You're still here?" You laughed, readjusting the textbooks in your hands so that the corners no longer jabbed into your stomach. Outside, snow still came down in absolute barrels , thrashing against the sides of the building in every way possible, so hard that you could hear the wind and snow hit. You couldn't even see through the almost solid looking downpour. It didn't look like it'd let up anytime soon. "And here I thought I was the dumb one for waiting."
"eh. snow problem. i ain't rushing for anything. not my speed." Sans had not a care in the world, it seemed, as he just shrugged, the slightest hint of what you knew was pride at his own mediocre pun written all over his face. You couldn't help but envy his ability to genuinely not give a damn, if only a little bit. You figured you could stand to have that mentality a little more often. Still, though, you rolled your eyes.
"Lazy ass."
He jokingly punched you in the arm. "i was waiting for you, dummy."
"That sounds like an excuse."
"maybe."
You'd had to push nearly your entire body into your locker to keep its contents from spilling out. But by some miracle, you'd managed to shove your books in and grab your bag before slamming the door shut. Papers jutted out in every direction, but the door was stuck shut firmly in place, which was good enough in the moment— albeit you already felt a twinge of dread knowing you would have to open it again Monday morning.
"you still down for working on that project this weekend?"
You blinked. You'd nearly forgotten about it entirely, but yes; you briefly recalled talking about it a couple days ago at lunch. Some science project you were certain you didn't understand yourself, but luckily for you, your lab partner was actually incredibly intelligent.
He never really showed it outside of class, but Sans was actually pretty knowledgeable when it came to things that normally made your head spin. Science class, in any of its forms, maths, physics, you name it. If you didn't understand something, there was a one hundred percent chance he did. Which made all of those things that much more tolerable. Any questions you had or tests you hadn't studied for, the odd assignment or three, Sans could pretty much breeze through like it was as simple as writing his name. And oddly enough, he didn't mind doing so for you. The only thing he ever asked for in return was a couch to crash on and someone to hang out with for the day, which was fine by you. He was a fun guy to hang out with, and it was strange how fast you'd become close friends.
Even stranger if you considered how he'd acted when you'd first met.
That first day after moving had been rough enough, and after 3 other classes that had seemed to last days in their own rights, you'd given up on being punctual and prepared in favor of just finding the class you were supposed to be in. This high school was a lot bigger than your previous one, and a lot stranger and more diverse to boot. Monsters and humans alike attended, which was definitely new and unfamiliar alone. The principal herself, along with many teachers, as well, were monsters. But with the new accommodations to better suit these new employees and students, came a surprising amount of differences from any other school you'd ever attended. Which meant you'd had a hell of a time navigating the building for the first couple weeks, likely over a month.
So, of course, when you'd gotten to your last class for the day, you didn't have a pen. Over the course of the day, every last pen and pencil you'd hauled around in your bag had somehow mysteriously disappeared. You'd asked the closest person if you could borrow one. Enter Sans.
He'd seemed chill enough at first, granted he also looked bored out of his mind and just as ready to go home as you were (little did you know, it wasn't because he didn't care about the subject; he just simply knew it already .) Which honestly wasn't too unreasonable a mistake to make. By the way he was dressed, a hoodie that looked about as old as him by this point, both shoes untied, the backpack next to him overflowing with books and papers and empty chip bags... He didn't seem like the organized, straight-A student you'd expect, maybe aside from the admittedly hilarious circular-rimmed glasses taped onto his skull (no nose… it still made you laugh.) He simply didn't seem to care.
And boy, did he show it.
He hadn't even given you so much as a response to your question. Just a shitty look you didn't expect from him and an aggravated snort, and he went back to staring deadpan at the board, like he had better things to do.
At first, you weren't sure what happened. At the very least, he could've just said no! And that wouldn't be the first time something like that happened, either. Every other day, when you came to science, you'd had to sit next to him at your shared desk. And every day, he'd suddenly go from bored and tired to pissed off and grumbling to himself, muttering about humans and complaining about seating arrangements. At the beginning, for a second, it made you feel bad— but after give or take about three separate occasions, it mainly pissed you off. What had you done? You'd had half a mind to tell him off, but you just never quite felt up to it. School was hardcore stressing you out; you knew if you got angry, you'd just cry at that point. Stress had already begun taking a toll on your mental health. People sucked, classes sucked, and you had your own personal life to stress you out, and you were still trying to find work … It was a lot.
Not to mention, you'd picked up on his intellect fast. Sitting next to someone makes it easier to see just what kind of person they are, even if there's a wall up. You could see his grades when they were passed back – you were pretty sure he'd caught you looking more than once – and after about the seventeenth perfect score in a row, you…
Well, you felt kind of stupid.
And then one day, he just… stopped. Stopped getting huffy when you sat next to him, (the nerve you had, sitting in your assigned seat! ) stopped grumbling to himself all class and making every effort possible to ignore you in every way, and he actually approached you first, believe it or not. From that point on, you two had started talking. Became friends, actually. The two of you hung out on a daily basis, nowadays; Usually at your house, but there had been a couple occasions you'd been to his. The first of which you'd gained the immediate approval from his younger brother, who, quote, was "JUST SO HAPPY HE'S MAKING FRIENDS!"
"Not sure there'll be any project, if we can't get into the building Monday."
You eyed the doors again. By the way it looked outside, you doubted you'd be home within the hour. The wind looked strong enough to put you on your ass pretty fast, and Sans was literally just bones. You were pretty certain a stiff wind could send him flying. Skeletons can't be that heavy. Not to mention your lack of winter clothes was bound to be an issue.
"don't worry about that. i already took care of it, the project's done," Sans didn't seem to mind the slight flicker in the lights, a pretty good sign that there wouldn't be any power for long. "i just don't have anything better to do than take up your couch and play video games all weekend."
"Figures."
You'd agreed to stop at an old store in the square to wait out the snow a little bit, to see if it'd let up at all. You couldn't feel your fingers and toes anymore, you had (as you'd expected) fallen on your butt four different times already, and you were really just getting tired of making yourself look stupid. You felt completely defeated. And to top it off, Sans, the cheeky bastard, looked perfectly fine.
"I'm glad you're doing alright," You were shivering now, but you were joking, eyes narrowed in mock annoyance. Sans only turned a little more blue in the cheekbones.
"that's nothing. we lived in worse growin' up. goes right through me now." You noted his nervous tic of punning to avoid confrontation, though his face looked suspiciously unaffected. It should be illegal how good he was at hiding his emotions. Fortunately, you'd begun to figure him out.
"I swear you've used that same pun about eighteen times since we started talking. Get some new material."
You'd never admit that you actually found Sans funny. How could you? You'd never hear the end of it.
"you're breaking my heart, kid."
The store wasn't anything interesting. Relatively small, and there was only one other person inside that you could see, save for the cashier, who was asleep. You wished you'd walked into a diner or something.
"You've never told me much about where you lived before." You grabbed a cart from the return next to the door, trying to seem offhanded as to hopefully not strike a nerve of some sort. You didn't know a lot about Sans' life before the surface, but you did know that some monsters got really upset about bringing it up. Granted, lots of monsters lived in completely different undergrounds.
"not really much to write home about."
Trying to get information out of Sans was a fruitless endeavour that wasn't really worth the effort, but here you were. You’d probably have better luck interrogating his brother.
"I'm assuming it's cold where you lived, then," You ignored his pun in favor of grabbing a bag of chips off the shelf to your left. "How is there weather underground?"
Sans shrugged, absentmindedly scrolling through something on his phone. "dunno. snow telling, i heard it was like that when we got there. but who really knows."
Magic has and will continue to confuse you forever, it seemed. How was Sans staying in one piece? The only answer you'd ever been given was "magic." You'd given up trying to rationalize and just accepted that monsters were above the laws of human physics and didn't need an explanation. But that didn't stop you from being curious. You actually thought Sans and his brother were pretty cool, because of how much they confused you moreover other monsters you'd met. However you'd often spend a ridiculous amount of time mulling over how Sans was put together, and maybe that was just because you spent more time together, but also because he really wasn't human. Neither of them were, obviously, but it really seemed Papyrus fit the bill for a skeleton in more ways than his brother, and Sans was so different from skeletons as you knew them that it tended to nag at your brain. Where Papyrus had a skull that pretty well matched what you were familiar with the skeletal system (with obvious exceptions,) Sans's skull was wide and round and confusingly malleable. His bones were thicker, and formed to serve more fleshed out palms and arms and a neck where it met collarbone; his jaw was fused and one with the rest of his skull, yet opened and closed like it wasn’t, like a mouth. Embarrassingly enough, it had kept you awake at night on more than a couple occasions. It was confusing. And that was the only reason.
You found the topic of relationships to be kind of uncomfortable, truthfully, but you had to give credit where credit was due; your friend was attractive. In a less human sense than you were used to, but attractive nonetheless. He had a handsome smile, and the lights in his eyes were glow-y and pretty and made you wish you had a better look at them. And he had a way of looking best when he didn't try at all. Moments like then, when he was absentmindedly talking and being his jokey self, not really doing much of anything – his speciality – he pulled it off. Though you tried not to think about it too much. And that wasn't because he was a monster or anything. You had just always felt awkward thinking about relationships and love and affection and whatnot. It wasn't your forte. Not to mention, Sans had a bad habit of sending so many mixed signals that it was usually impossible to tell if he actually cared for you in that way or not.
Either way, it just felt weird assuming anyone felt anything for you. You weren't stupid, you saw it; the constant cycle of Sans trying to be subtle, throwing some random ass line out every now and then, and ultimately failing, before scrambling to backpedal himself back to uncomfortable friendzoning. The feelings were there, on both sides (you think.) But it was easier to pretend you didn't see the signs and ignore it than to come to terms with your own insecurities about a relationship. Maybe once you got your own emotions figured out, and stopped being afraid of committing to any sort of intimate relationship whatsoever, you'd tell him. You didn't want to lead him on if you didn't know if you actually harboured feelings for him.
For now, just having a goofy buddy to play video games and tell stupid jokes with was enough, and you didn't want to risk messing that up.
"oh. Paps told me to tell you he says 'hi,' by the way." Sans' voice broke your train of thought entirely. You scrambled to catch up.
"Oh. Sorry, I wasn't listening. Tell him I said 'hi' back." You were somehow all the way across the store. "How's he been doing?"
"pretty great. as usual. volleyball season is over, so he's trying out for a couple different clubs. a couple different languages, drama club… he's even taking a chef's course at the college for an extra couple of credits."
If there was one thing to get Sans talking, it was Papyrus. He'd probably go on for hours if you let him. And it also earned you a big smile that you swore only you got the privilege of seeing. It never failed to make you smile, too.
"No surprise."
"what can i say, ‘guy's an overachiever." He grabbed a two-liter off a shelf and set it in the cart, next to a bag of frozen fries you'd thrown in earlier.
You agreed. "I'm pretty sure Papyrus would excel at anything he put his mind towards doing."
"he's makin' friends, too. i'm happy for him. he's adjusting just about as well as i expected he would." A ping, Sans' phone. He unlocked it, scrolled a moment, then pocketed it again. "hold on. speaking of, he wants me to grab somethin'. be right back."
As you were making your way back toward the front of the building, you half noticed the bell over the doors ring. You were more focused on reaching an energy drink towards the far back of a taller shelf. Figures Sans would walk off now, right when you need help. You huffed as your hand barely grazed the can, but stopped short.
SLAM
– From the front, followed by a yelp.
You nearly fell backwards. Luckily you'd caught the edge of your cart, just before it'd had time to roll into another isle. Mildly pissed, you stuck your head around the corner just enough to investigate who the fuck just about ruined your day.
"heh! s'just me, Pants, chill ta hell out!"
The sharpest skeleton you'd ever seen stood in front of the cashier, hands still pressed firmly into the counter on either side of him. He was laughing.
Sans?
"The hell?"
You realized you'd spoken as soon as his skull whipped around to look at you. One golden tooth catching the light from the store window, one gnarly looking crack shattering upward from it, eyelights a bright, intense red, completely unlike your best friend's…
… Not Sans.
An absolutely predatory smile spread on his skull – sharp teeth curled up at the corners to form one of the most shark-like expressions you'd ever seen on a person. His eyelights all but burst upon gaining your attention, looking more like flames than dots. But they didn't flicker like flames, they roared like a fire; they didn't crack, they popped and sizzled. They glowed orange-red like ember in a fireplace, glittered against one, golden canine… and on the counter, clawed, skeletal fingers tapped in unison, each phalange ending in a surprisingly sharp point. Tap, tap, tapping, almost as a warning, a dare, an open invitation, screaming "try me."
He stared. Unwavering, unbreaking, intensely , his grin never fading, not even a twitch at the ends, or any sign that he even breathed (not that he'd have to… you think.) You'd have sworn he'd simply never moved before, had you not seen it happen just a couple seconds prior. All of his attention was on you , and he was paying attention . His eyes bored holes in your soul, and for a split second you could see the faintest indication of heavy thought and concentration. You couldn't tell if he was trying to read your mind or set you on fire with his.
Then, as if the interaction hadn't even occurred, he turned, and went back to his conversation with the cashier. A cat monster, who, still, somehow looked like that scare might've sent him into cardiac arrest. You didn't blame him. In fact you were about sixty percent sure you might have signed over your rights to living just by making eye contact. You listened in.
"a'ight, Pants, here's what i owe ya." He sounded gruff when he spoke, not caring enough to lower his voice. You watched him slap what you presumed was a wad of bills on the counter.
The cat monster looked around, sweating. They argued back and forth a moment, while you gathered your bearings. You were still alive, right? You felt like you might've died.
"forget yer boss, i'll talk to 'im if shit happens, i paid in full this time. hurry up, wouldja?"
"Wait, this time?" said the cashier.
Ten fingers. Good, you still had your fingers. Arms… legs intact. You brought both hands up to your face. Hair's still there. Eyes, nose, mouth, the essentials. Ghosts still had faces, though, you thought. Maybe you did die.
"Burgerpants."
Did you ever have piercings? What about glasses? Did you wear glasses??
"Alright, alright, just be quiet!"
A sigh. The orange tabby cat (Burgerpants… had you heard that right?) fumbled around his uniform, looking around to see if any of the store's surveillance happened to be on him, and quickly pulled a dime bag out of the pocket of his khakis. He shoved it into the skeleton's waiting hand, pocketed the money, and wiped his face with his hat, thus completing their transaction.
Fucking hell. Not even a minute dead and I’ve already witnessed a drug deal. You guessed the afterlife was just as shit as real life. That’s kind of disappointing. They really overhyped it.
"Now, are you gonna buy anything?"
The skeleton shrugged, tucking the bag away somewhere in the inner lining of his coat. "sure." He threw a lighter on the counter, then pointed behind the cashier towards the cabinet of cigarettes.
An exasperated, almost tearful customer service smile. "You know I need an ID, buddy. I'll lose my job."
"don't worry 'bout it,” he smiled, “got one right here." He handed him a card, looking oddly proud of himself. The cashier, eyebrow raised, took it and looked over it a second. However, after only a brief moment of evaluation, quickly deadpanned.
"… Red." He sighed again, his face in his hand.
"hm?"
"If you're going to give me a fake ID, at least try and make it believable."
'Red' guffawed. "whaddaya mean? it's totally legit. see, i got my name here, an' my birthday here…"
"Under 'sex,' you typed, 'absolutely.'"
Sometime right around then was when Sans reappeared, carrying a gallon of milk, a couple boxes of pasta and some parmesan cheese, but you'd honestly forgotten why you were there in the first place.
"sorry about that. couldn't find the pasta Papyrus wanted." Sans apologized, now seeming bluer, smaller, and arguably cuddlier than the skeleton you'd been gawking at for a couple minutes now. He tossed his things into the cart and looked at you. "hey, you okay? you look like you died or somethin'."
You had… questions. But you would ask later.
When you'd gotten up to the counter, Red was already gone, leaving you with 'Burgerpants'… and wouldn't you know it, that was his name. You assumed it was a nickname or something. However, Sans remained.
"did you know that Bilbo always has trouble with self-service checkouts?"
You groaned. Burgerpants looked as if he'd seen literal Hell every day for most of his life, and therefore seemed somehow completely unaffected by Sans.
"Sans, no. Please. I'm begging you to stop."
"they always tell him there's an unexpected item in the Baggins area."
No. Don't laugh. You refused to laugh at that. You glared instead.
Sans almost seemed like he'd be quiet for a moment, but you knew better. He waited a moment to pick up the divider off of the belt.
"ya'know, i've been trying to buy one of these for ages. but every time i try, the cashier just puts it back."
From behind the counter, your stressed-looking cashier looked to you, as if you could do anything about him. He checked his watch, then continued scanning items, asking if you wanted your milk in a bag.
You almost answered. Almost answered. But you knew all too well what was going to come out of your skeletal friend's mouth as soon as you saw the absolute gleam in his eyelights.
"Sans-" You all but hissed, nudging him hard in the side with your elbow, but it was no use.
"i think it's just fine in the carton."
You were still mad walking home.
"You didn't have to do that," you huffed. The snow was only flurrying now, but there was still over a foot of snow on the ground.
"let me pay for your groceries, damn."
"I will not ."
Across the street, you couldn't help but notice… the prettiest motorcycle you'd ever seen sat idle in the snow. It was a beautiful shade of red and chrome, and sparkled with the light from the snow around it. You weren't necessarily a motorcycle buff, but it was one of those things that was so pretty even you had to admire it.
And there stood mister Red himself, swiping snow off the top of it. Of course it would be his, you should've known. As if the leather coat and boots weren't enough, he had the personality and the aesthetic to match. You guessed he was loaded or something… you couldn't even afford to fix your van.
Now that he wasn't staring so intensely at you, you could actually focus on his face. When he didn't remind you too much of looking directly at a live shark, he looked more like a person than just that. There was red under his eyes, and you couldn't tell if it was lighting or if he was simply exhausted, but he shuffled, griped, yawned and complained as he cleared his bike. His eyes looked tired, overall, when they weren't glaring, but like Sans, he shared his ability to look nicer when he wasn't trying. Tired or not, this was real, and you had to appreciate it.
"kid." Sans had stopped walking and turned around so fast you almost tripped over him. Looking at his face, he was blue and serious and looking right back at you. Not even a hint of a smile, which felt wrong, but rather he continued to get bluer. "it's not a big deal. i care about you, okay? let me buy you stuff every once and a while. it's just groceries."
Oh yeah. Groceries.
Damnit.
Sans didn't say stuff like that a lot. So you stayed silent in favor of not arguing and causing him to never say it again… because it made you smile a little.
When you got home, it was almost dark. Neither of you really acknowledged your bags and just walked into the kitchen with the groceries, as per your usual routine with Sans over. You'd get home from school, go to the kitchen, and open and close the fridge and the cabinets indefinitely until something to eat magically appeared. You didn't feel like cooking, so it was just the snacks and soda for the night. As usual, Sans heaved himself up to sit on the counter while you put things away.
"what's the verdict?"
You hummed, crouching in front of the kitchen cabinets. Fumbled through for a moment, paused… "Looks like it's a good thing you bought popcorn."
"don't give me all the credit. i just paid." Sans was tapping his phalanges on the counter, but at least he was looking at you now, unlike earlier.
"Yeah, well," you looked over your shoulder, a little peeved about it still. "Thank you. You didn't have to."
"seriously. it's nothing. you're too forgetful to ever bring enough cash with you anyway."
You absolutely did, he just never let you pay for anything when you went places. Also, hey! Rude. You were used to it, but still, shit.
But as you'd feared, he was starting to sound a little upset. It showed in the way he held himself, too– posture stiffening, toes tapping (more bouncing, as they didn’t quite reach the floor,) hands balled and pressed into his pockets, and he wouldn't look at you. Too much attention brought to him, you guessed. But despite every ounce of your brain that told you to back off, you pressed with a comment of your own.
"... You do that a lot."
…
"what?"
You reconsidered, questioning whether or not you wanted to bring it up at all.
"That. You say something, or do something really nice, even though you don't have to… and then immediately contradict yourself when I point it out. You're like the opposite of a sour patch kid. You're nice, and then you're bitter." You tore the package of popcorn open with your teeth. "Why?"
This was probably stupid. The anxiety of confrontation was already making your stomach churn.
"i guess i do do that."
Sans sounded so uncharacteristically meek about that statement that you actually turned to face him, sitting awkwardly on the counter and staring at a particularly interesting digit in his thumb. He wasn't looking at you. Was that all it took to fluster him?
You let yourself fall backward onto your butt, popcorn half unwrapped in one hand. "It's not a big deal or anything. I was just curious."
"…"
That was yet another thing that happened with Sans that always confused you. Most of the time, he made an effort to maintain his laid-back, modulated but carefree demeanour. But there were times he'd just suddenly lose his cool entirely, leaving you with a slightly irritated, uncomfortable, blue skeleton. And that's not an understatement, it was sudden. It was completely impossible to tell what would tip him off. It was always such a total 180 from his usual personality that it always managed to catch you off guard. And, to be honest, you weren't ever sure what to do about it when it happened. Some days, he'd snap at you when you pried about what was wrong, like a hurt dog. Others, he'd just stay a little quiet for a while until he felt better, but you always found him lingering at a bit of a distance afterward. And then, every now and then, he'd chance hanging significantly closer to you than before, asking questions about what you're doing or how your friends are feeling. It was during one of those rare days that you began to notice the feelings blooming in the back of your mind.
It was really a gamble, but you still wanted to help. Even after popcorn had popped, and you'd started playing video games, he still sat uncomfortably at the end of your bed, his back to you. You could tell he wasn't comfortable.
"Hey," you nudged him with your foot, causing him to drop a couple pieces of popcorn (tragic) and force himself to look vaguely in your direction. Not good enough. You paused the game, moved, and gave him a sort of side-hug from an odd angle, but it served its purpose. "It's cool. We're cool. We cool?"
A moment passed as he paused. It made you a little anxious, waiting for any sort of readable expression on his face, whether it be the usual lazy grin or anger. There was always a chance he'd get uppity and defensive, but, thankfully, Sans huffed out a laugh.
"we cool."
You held up a salt and butter covered hand for a fist bump, which he obliged with his own.
"Cool."
And you were cool.
Buttery fist bumps for cool kids.