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Sans was currently sitting on the floor, pouting. You crossed your arms, trying to look stern.
"C'mon, Sans. You're drunk."
He hiccuped.
"H-how can I- *hic* ...how c-can I be drunk- *hic*- if I'm Sans….?"
You levelled him with a look.
"Sans."
"Th-tha's me- *hic*- heh," he started chortling drunkenly.
You decided to start treating him like a toddler, since his current mental capacity obviously wasn't enough for him to comprehend basic sentences.
"Can you stand up for me?" you asked him patiently. "Upsie-daisie. C'mon, buddy."
"Y-yeah…?" he giggled again, staggering to his feet and almost faceplanting into the floor. You caught him by the shoulder, steadying him.
"H-heh, th-thanks….th'floor...heh...th'floor almost g-got me…heh…guess you c-could say I was r-real- *hic*- real floored, b-back there…"
Apparently, even when drunk, he could still rattle off those stupid puns like nobody's business.
You pressed your lips together- whether to keep yourself from laughing or sighing, you couldn't really tell.
*****
Your group of friends liked to get together once a month to drink and catch up together. You liked the 'catching up' part. The drinking part…not so much.
And that was because whenever your friends drank, they almost inevitably got drunk. And when you said drunk, you meant really drunk. They got flat-out wasted. And then there was you, the poor, unfortunate soul who was more often than not the only reasonable one in the group. Not that you liked being the reasonable one, mind. You just didn't particularly enjoy the thought of hurling your guts out over the floor and dealing with an awful hangover the day after.
Which, of course, meant that in a group full of idiots, you usually had to be the one who sucked it up and made sure that all their dumb asses got home safely.
Sans, who was usually the only other sober soul at these gatherings, would often watch with amusement- and at times, unbridled glee- as you babysat your friends like they were a group of unruly children. He would usually "help" you bring them back to their respective homes, but this time, he'd gotten drunk as well.
Which was odd. And also very rare. Since his alcohol tolerance was supposedly, as your friends had told you, the stuff of legends.
But that was besides the point. You'd had to cart home one more giggling idiot tonight, and you weren't exactly pleased about that.
But on second thought, the embarrassing photos you'd gotten of him may have kind of made up for it. Although it wasn't like Sans possessed even a single feeble shred of shame in his cartoonishly puny body, so you weren't quite sure what you'd do with those pictures, either.
One thing you hadn't accounted for, though, was the fact that you didn't know where he lived, since he'd usually been sober enough to see himself home. On top of that, he was especially clingy today, and refused to tell you his address. Whether he wouldn't or he couldn't, you weren't quite sure.
So that was a problem.
But not a very huge one: you resolved it by dragging him to your home instead, and letting him crash on your couch.
But that had produced problems of its own.
*****
"Sans."
"Mmmh."
"Sans, let go."
"Mmmmhhh… *hic*- I don't…I don't wanna…"
"C'mon. You gotta let go already."
"Noooooo," Sans whined, clutching your legs as he lay on the ground. "If- *hic*- if y-you go, I-I'll be all alo- *hic* -one."
You sighed, reaching down to pluck him from the ground and carry him over your shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
"No, you won't. I'll be in the next room, okay?"
"N-noooo…m'all….m'all alone… *hic* ...m'always alone…."
"Dude, you've got tons of friends and family," you reminded him.
"N-no…R-rocky…I… *hic* ...I don't h-have Rocky…."
"Rocky?"
"Yeah…"
Sans suddenly went silent, and you thought he'd fallen asleep. But then he flailed about wildly in your arms, making you stagger and readjust your hold on him.
He started sniffling, "He was…he was a- *hic* ....a good p-pet…a-an' he always stayed…r-right where I told 'im to…. *hic* ..."
In his flailing, he managed to knock you back so forcefully that you stumbled and fell onto the couch. Then he started bawling. Or at least that was what you assumed he was doing, since he seemed physically incapable of producing tears.
"A-an' Rocky a-always…. *hic* ...was real obedient….an' P-pap's loved 'im, b-but I didn't…. *hic*.... take proper c-care of him...and it's my f-fault that….th-that he almost ran 'way…"
You were starting to feel a little bad for Sans. Rocky must have been some beloved family pet or something, because you'd never seen him cry like this before.
Scratch that, you'd never seen him cry ever. So this was a pretty big deal!
And you were a good friend. So you were going to listen to his woes and offer him a shoulder to cry on, even though the clock was showing that it was obscenely near to four a.m. and you really just wanted to go to bed.
Sans sniffled, wiping away the non-existent tears in his sockets. You reached over and patted him awkwardly on the shoulder.
"Aw, hey. I, uh. I'm sorry. Don't cry, please. I mean, you're drunk, so you're probably going to forget all of this anyway, but still. Don't cry."
"I miss 'im… *hic*... I r-really miss 'im…I…I should've taken better c-care of him… *hic*..."
"...what happened to him?"
"He got l-lost… *hic*... wh-when me' n P-pap's moved…. *hic* ...to th' surface…"
"Yeah?"
"I miss... *hic*... R-rocky….d-didn't….didn't cherish 'im enough… *hic*... "
"Yeah…I know…I know…"
*****
Sans shifted. There was an uncomfortable crick in his neck, and his head hurt horribly. Not to mention, his mouth felt like the stars-damned Sahara Desert.
He really wanted some water.
Cracking open his eyes, he hissed grumpily at the sunlight, trying to burrow back into his oddly solid-feeling mattress.
Then he felt it move.
Huh….?
His muddled mind, dealing with both the haze of sleep and a pounding headache, decided that the best course of action would be for him to scream like all hell had broken loose while jumping off whatever he'd been sleeping on.
*****
You almost shit yourself when you heard a demon-like screech erupt from above you. That was certainly something to get woken up to.
You shot up, eyes wide and body tense. You glanced around wildly, trying to find the source of that horrendous noise. You couldn't see anything. In fact, where was that comforting weight that you'd been cuddling all night? That was gone, too.
Oh, wait.
You peered down the edge of the couch.
Sans stared back up at you, a mixture of shock and confusion on his face.
You furrowed your eyebrows.
"Was that-?"
"You heard nothing," he interrupted, his ever-permanent grin stretching into something that looked decidedly strained.
"But I-"
"Nothing. That was nothing. You were dreaming."
"...."
"...."
"Sure, man."
*****
"...did you have a pet called Rocky?" you asked over breakfast. The meal was more of an extremely late lunch, given how long the both of you had slept, but that was largely irrelevant.
Sans looked mildly surprised by the question, but then gave you his signature lazy shrug.
"Yeah, used to. He got lost while we were moving to the surface, though. Why?"
"Awww. Sorry to hear that, bud. You good?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. It was a while back, anyway. I mean, Rocky was a real cool pet and everything, but y'know. It's not a big deal."
"You sure? You know you can tell me anything, right? And it's okay to let out your feelings sometimes."
Sans eyed you weirdly.
"...did I say something funny last night?"
"Nah, you just got a little emotional. I got kinda worried, is all. You seem a lot calmer about it today, though. So was Rocky some kind of childhood pet?"
"I mean...kind of? I dunno. He was just kinda there, I guess. I was kinda bummed when he got lost, but it wasn't really a big deal."
"You cried over him last night, y'know," you said helpfully, watching as Sans froze in place.
"What?"
"Rocky? You know, your pet?"
"Yeah, I mean…I cried over him? Wow, I must've been way over the edge. …what did I say about him?"
You screwed your face up as you thought, listing things out while counting them off on your fingers.
"Well….you said that you missed him, that you felt bad for not treating him better, that he almost ran away one time, and that you should've cherished him more."
Sans' smile stretched further and further across his face the more you talked, his sockets widening with each item you listed.
"Well damn," he said, and there was a hint of something that sounded suspiciously like glee in his voice. You narrowed your eyes. You'd heard that tone in his voice countless times before, and it was almost always when someone was going to be one the receiving end of one of his jokes and puns.
"Guess I never told you that Rocky, heh, takes after his name."
"What does that mean," you asked, deadpan, readying yourself.
"He was our pet rock," Sans explained, eye lights glimmering with mirth.
There was a long, prickly silence.
"Oh, fuck you," you finally said.
Sans grin was so big now, you had a feeling that any minute it would fall clean off his face and hit the table with a clatter.
"I stayed up till six in the morning listening to you cry about him. SIX, you ungrateful bastard," you muttered, burying your head in your hands as Sans chuckled maniacally next to you.
"Don't tell me that our friendship's getting all rocky already."
"I will cut you," you threatened, tightening your grip on the butter knife, which did nothing but spur Sans on into a new volley of rock puns.
"Sorry, didn't mean to get all sediment-al. It was a whole lode of baggage I dumped on you, huh? Guess I really hit rock-bottom last night. But hey, friends like you are real hard to find. Trust me, I won't take it for granite."
"I hate you, and I'm going to bury you face-down in a rock garden," you mumbled.
*****
A few days after the incident had been happily forgotten, Sans found an odd little rock on his dining room table. It stared back, its small googly eyes round and hopeful.
Under it was a small note. He picked it up, eyelights skimming through its contents.
Thought you'd like a new pet, after what happened to Rocky. Take good care of him so that he doesn't run away.
He chuckled, pocketing the note and picking up what he supposed was now Rocky Junior.
"C'mon, buddy. Let's get you some sprinkles. Bet Papyrus will be stoked to see you."