Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You stand in the baking aisle of your local grocery store, stuck between red velvet and pumpkin. Your work is having a halloween party and your coworkers had all but demanded you bring a dessert - you’re a pretty good baker, after all.

…

Okay, you’re a pretty good baker so long as it’s from a box. And honestly, you’ve told your coworkers as much, but for some reason they insist your desserts are better than theirs, which… Admittedly, for some of them, you don’t disagree.

You shudder at the memory of the cookies served at the “Christmas in July” party - somehow both raw in the middle and hard enough to break your teeth on.

But back to the problem at hand.

On one hand, pumpkin spice muffins would fit the fall theme, and some cream cheese frosting would be killer. But red velvet cookies are just so much easier to make, and damn it, you really don’t wanna be spending three hours making a couple boxes worth of muffins plus frosting. Not to mention cookies are always easier to theme than cupcakes and muffins - some candy eyes, strategically broken chocolate covered pretzels, and boom! You’ve got yourself a spider cookie. Not at all like the tedious (and frankly stressful) frosting process, especially with your shaky hands.

Maybe you can ask someone…? You sigh, looking around the aisle.

There’s a mom and her two kids at the end of the aisle, looking at birthday candles and gel frosting. You don’t wanna get stuck talking to them, given you’re on a bit of a time limit. Having worked in customer service for a good few years, you know just how chatty moms can be, especially if the kids try to pitch in, god forbid. You feel a little bad, but you just don’t have the time (or energy) for that right now.

The only other person in the aisle is… 

Woah.

A huge skeleton, taller than you by at least a few feet, stands a bit away from you facing the other side of the aisle.

You spare a glance at his basket - some almond flour, some sort of extract or flavoring, some piping bags, a frankly massive bag of sugar… Looks like the makings for macarons. Honestly, regardless of how they turn out, you’re already impressed with this stranger for even attempting them. You know firsthand how easy it is to mess those up.

Yeah, it’s probably better to ask him than the mom.

You take a few steps over to him, making sure to stay out of his space. You’re not afraid of him - if anything, it’s the opposite. You’re trying not to startle him, easing into his field of vision and leaving him space to leave if he feels uncomfortable.

It’s… You know what it’s like to get overwhelmed, so…

You clear your throat. “Hey, red velvet or pumpkin spice?”

The skeleton turns towards you, looking a little surprised. He glances around before returning to you, as if to say “who, me?”

You shrug. “You seem like you know what you’re doing. At the very least, you’ve got good taste.” You nod toward his basket. “You’re making macarons, right?”

He nods.

You hold up the boxes of mix. “So, y’know… Red velvet or pumpkin spice?”

The skeleton looks between the two for a moment before pointing to the red velvet. His gaze flicks back to you, gauging your reaction.

You smile gratefully, tucking the boxes under your arm. “Hey, thanks man. Good choice. I… God, I really didn’t wanna make muffins.”

The skeleton looks at you quizzically.

“I’m gonna make cookies from these - cake mix cookies are always a hit, and they’re so easy to make. I even know the recipe, which is a bit of a feat for me, haha! Memory is not my strong suit, I’ll tell ya that much.” You say. The skeleton looks like he understands that more than you could know.

He stares at the cake mix for a second, seeming as if he wants to say something. You give him a minute - it can be hard to talk to strangers. You can understand that.

After a moment he points at the cake mix. He puts his right hand in front of his chest, palm facing up, and moves it side to side. It takes you a little longer than you’d like to admit, but you eventually recognize what he’s doing - he’s signing! If you’re remembering right, that means ‘what’.

“Oh! Do you know sign?” You ask, signing as you speak.

Looking more than a little relieved, the skeleton signs back. “yeah. i’m hearing, but…” He points at his jaw.

There’s a gaping hole on the side of his jaw, running up his skull, a few cracks even reaching his eye socket.

You’d noticed before, but you hadn’t really processed it until just now. You could kick yourself - of course signing is easier for him.

You nod. “Fair enough. Well, thanks for the help… Uh…”

“s-a-n-s.”

“Sans.” You repeat. You tell Sans your name, giving a little salute. “Good luck with those macarons, eh?”

Sans looks at his basket tiredly. “yeah, thanks… i’m gonna need it.”

You laugh, switching the pumpkin spice muffin mix with two more boxes of red velvet.

You’ve got some serious baking to do.

------------------------------------------

You curse, trying your best not to jostle the cookies. Damn you for choosing to bring them in this flimsy tin…

You had decided to wake up a little early and frost them before work so they’d be fresher, like an idiot, thinking it might somehow be less stressful if you knew you wouldn’t have time to agonize over trying to perfectly frost every cookie.

You woke up early early, so you’re already utterly exhausted. It’s no wonder you don’t see the cement bumper in the parking lot, hitting it just the wrong way that your legs go out from under you.

Aw, shit.

You brace for impact, twisting yourself so at the very least the cookies will be safe…

…

You don’t feel the cement.

Instead, you feel… Fabric?

Stunned, you look up and find yourself leaning against the skeleton monster from the other day - oh, what was his name…

Sam? San…Tiago?

Ah…

It’s… Probably fine.

“Woah,” You breathe. “Holy fuck, I totally would have ate shit if you didn’t catch me. Thanks, man!”

The skeleton drops his arm from across your chest - you hadn’t even realized it was there, too shocked to notice the warmth (something you’re already starting to miss…).

“no problem. falling for me pretty quick, though, eh?” He signs, winking.

You laugh, taking a step back. “Yeah, you’re telling me.”

The skeleton’s smile drops some, squinting in recognition. “do i… know you?”

You nod, signing as you speak as best you can while holding the cookies. “Yeah, we met the other day in the baking aisle. You helped me pick the flavor for these cookies, actually.”

He stares at you for a moment, recognition flickering in his socket. “oh, shit, yeah. baking. sorry, i… i don’t remember your name.”

You smile easily, relieved. “Don’t worry about it. I’m gonna be real with you, I don’t really remember your name either, so…” You introduce yourself, sticking out your free hand.

“sans. sans the skeleton.” Sans signs before shaking your offered hand.

You stand there, definitely not awkwardly, because you’re never awkward. You shift the tin of cookies under your arm, and - oh! The cookies!

“Hey, since you inspired them, want a cookie?” You ask, wiggling the tin for effect. “You don’t have to - I mean, I probably wouldn’t take cookies from a stranger, but…” You trail off. You’re… Not really helping your case here.

Sans chuckles, low and gravelly, a small burst of air coming from the hole in his jaw. “sure. unless you’re planning to poison… whoever’s in that building, i think i’ll be fine.”

“W- ah, well, no, I’m-... I’m not, y’know, I, I work there, so, ah… Not the best move.” You say, letting out an awkward laugh. 

You open the tin, revealing the cookies - you ended up making some frosting and had decided to frost a few, decorating them with some (admittedly sloppy) skulls. The rest of the frosting was in a little skull-shaped container in the tin’s center. You had brought it in the hopes people would dip things in it or… Do whatever, you don’t care, as long as it gets eaten - you know yourself better than to leave a container of pure frosting at your house unattended.

Sans plucks a cookie from the top, seemingly at random. He gently pulls off a small chunk, eating it as you watch. “enjoying the show?”

You blink, stuttering out an apology - you had been waiting for his reaction and completely forgot staring is rude. Sans just laughs, a low whistle coming from the crack on his jaw.

“i’m just messing with ya. the cookies are great. can i have the recipe? if ya don’t mind.”

“Oh! Yeah, sure, yeah! Um, are you in a rush, by any chance?”

“nope. was just heading home from the gas station. got nowhere to be.”

You grin, turning towards your work - Quinten’s Dental. “Cool! Um, I kinda have to go into work, but I don’t have any patients scheduled for another hour, so lemme just put my stuff down and I’ll give you the recipe. Plus, y'know, I don’t have paper on me, sorry.”

Sans eyes the building for a moment. “dental, huh?” He turns to you. “you guys any good?”

You stand a little straighter. “Yea, I like to think so! We also do orthodontic work here and have another building down the street for veneers and beauty treatments - it’s a whole thing.” You say, leading the way into the building. “Plus, the staff here are super nice.”

When you open the door, you’re immediately greeted by Jesper, the receptionist, shouting your name. “Ohmygod, you better have brought cupcakes, I’ve got a bet going and I do not want to lose these five dollars.”

You smile apologetically, showing the still-open tin to Jesper. “Sorry, Jes. Skull cookies.”

Jesper groans, covering his face with a hand. “Ugh, cookies, I should’ve guessed…”

“What’d Leo and Paula say?” You laugh, setting the tin on the reception desk.

“Leo bet brownies and Paula thought it’d be muffins.” Jesper pouts, sighing. “Honestly, I don’t know why no one thought of cookies… Whatever, at least my five dollars are safe.”

“What’d Quinten say?”

“....Oh, god damn it!”

You laugh, patting Jesper on the back. “I don’t know why you keep betting with xem, xey’re psychic, I’m telling you.”

Sans taps you on the shoulder, making you jump a little.

“sorry, didn’t mean to scare ya. what are we… can i have the… thing?” Sans looks more than a little confused, browbones creased. He signs haltingly, as if struggling to get the right word. Yeah, you get that.

“Oh! The recipe, sorry, right,” You say, turning to the desk to grab a sticky note. “This is Jesper, by the way, he’s the receptionist. And you already know me.” You say your name again, just in case. “Jesper, this is Sans.”

Sans’ shoulders relax just slightly, hardly noticeable unless you were looking for it. You can’t blame him - names are hard!

You scribble on the sticky notes, mumbling to yourself as you do. “Right, so… One box of cake mix… Three…? No, no, two eggs, I was right the first time. Half… Half a cup of vegetable oil… Bake at 350… Fahrenheit, that is, I should probably add that… 15- nah, 13-17 minutes, depends on the cookie size… Okay, here you are!”

You peel off the sticky note and pluck a business card from the holder, handing both to Sans. “Here, you can take our card, too - if you ever need any dental work, we’re here for you.”

Sans stares at the card for a moment before pocketing it. “thanks.”

“No problem! I’ll see ya around, yeah?”

“...maybe. yeah.”

You do like talking to him, and you’d be more than happy to take care of anything he might need - dental wise, that is.

------------------------------------------

“Hello, welcome to - oh! I know you. Sans, right?” Jesper says, smiling politely at the skeleton in front of him.

“Yes, That’s My Brother, Sans. He Has Difficulty Speaking - More Than A Dentist Could Fix, I Assume, But We’re Actually Here For Me,” A tall skeleton says. “I’ve Been Instructed To Ask For…” The skeleton moves the card closer to his skull, saying your name.

Jesper nods, quickly dialing your extension on the phone - if you’re on schedule, you should be between patients right now. He says your name into the phone. “Yeah, there’s someone here for you - Sans and another skeleton, I don’t know if you know him.”

“Papyrus.” The taller skeleton chimes in.

“Papyrus, he said his name was.” Jesper adds. “Yeah. Mmmhmm. Okay. Bye, love you, be safe.”

Your laugh can be heard through the receiver. Jesper smiles, chuckling as well. He turns back to the skeletons. “Yeah, it’ll be just a minute.”

Sure enough, a minute later, you appear at the end of the hallway, clearly smiling under your mask. “Hey Sans! Hey Papyrus!”

“hey,” Sans signs.

“Hello. I… Believe I May Be In Need Of Some Dental Work.” The other skeleton - Papyrus, you assume - says, a touch begrudgingly.

Maybe he’s nervous. He looks… Capable, and he knows it. Definitely the type to struggle with asking for help. You give him your best reassuring smile, introducing yourself and sticking out your hand. Papyrus takes it - his handshake is firm, but deliberately gentle. You can tell he’s stronger than he’s letting on.

“Alright, I’ve got a moment to chat, but I do have some patients coming in relatively soon. Let’s go back to my office, yeah?” You suggest. “For a little more privacy.”

“Sure,” Papyrus says, looking more than a little hesitant.

“My office is separate from the workspaces, so you won’t be coming into contact with any equipment. It can be intimidating, I get that. It’s just down the hall here - close to the back door if you need a minute to breathe.”

Papyrus just nods, but you can tell that helped some.

Hopefully. Maybe. You think.

You lead the way to your office and once you’re all settled, you start your spiel.

“If you’d like, I can offer you a surface level examination - which is basically just me telling you what I think the problem could be without actually getting you in the chair, nothing too formal, just to get a guideline so I can help you out better. Once that’s done with, you can make an appointment to come back for a more in-depth examination, or I could send you over to Paula and you can go straight to the real diagnostic.”

“Just Your Opinion Is Fine For Now, Thank You.”

“Awesome, and do you guys both wanna get checked out, or just you?”

Sans and Papyrus share a glance. Sans signs something you don’t quite catch - it looks to be a different dialect, maybe the monster equivalent of sign.

“Both Of Us, If That’s Alright.”

“Sure, no problem!”

You do a small spin in your wheely chair before rolling over to the two. “Alright, so, here’s what I was thinking…”

------------------------------------------

After around a half hour of explaining your tools, pointing out areas that may need work, and a bit of small talk, you had managed to successfully reassure the skeletons.

Once he opened up a bit, Papyrus was a wonderful guy! He was deliberate when speaking and asked a lot of questions, which you respect. 

Not that you thought any of his questions were dumb, but you always say it’s better to ask a dumb question if you really don’t know the answer. If you really need help, it seems dumber to let your pride get the best of you and make an avoidable mistake than to ask a question, no matter how obvious the answer may seem.

Sans was… Quiet, even for him. You had briefly mentioned jaw reconstruction surgery, and though the two were polite about it, you could tell it wasn’t something he was quite ready for - which is totally fine, and you made sure to tell him as much.

Other than that (extremely minor) bump, you think it went well.

You also gave Sans your number, at his request. He mentioned he likes texting, since it gives him the chance to reread conversations. You had smiled, agreeing wholeheartedly.

Hopefully this is the start of a great friendship - you haven’t had a friend who isn’t a coworker of yours in… Longer than you’d like to admit.

Next to you, your phone buzzes - speak of the devil.

Today, 11:28 PM

You: [Click to view attachment]

With: lol, with?

You: Yeah, that’s my sign name for you! Since Sans means ‘without’, but now I’m here, so you’re with!

With: what the fuck

With: that’s adorable

With: my sign name for you is ‘teeth’

You snort, tapping your index finger just in front of your mouth.

You: Haha, yeah, that’s fair

You: Oh, I almost forgot - there’s this bakery I’ve been wanting to visit, would you wanna come with?

With: would i wanna do what now

With: at least take me out to dinner first

You: Hahaha, shut up, you know what I meant!

With: sure, sure, whatever you say…

You and Sans have been texting for a couple days now and quickly discovered each others’ love of lewd jokes.

Sometimes… Sometimes Sans didn’t seem all that joking.

But!

You always have trouble telling when people are being serious, especially over text. And you don’t know for sure - it seems a bit too early to say.

(Plus, how would that interaction go? “Hey, Sans, are you actually for real and not jokingly flirting with me?”)

(...)

(Yeah, you’d rather not.)

You: So, you down to go, or what?

With: idk, what bakery is it?

You: Oh shit, yeah, sorry, it’s this place called Muffet’s. Jesper said it’s really good, and I’ve been meaning to go - heard they’ve got good macarons

With: sure, i’ll bite. it’s a date.

With: wait, ya like macarons? i think i’ve made them before, if i make them again i’ll save ya some

You: OMG YES PLEASE!! I love macarons but I never have them because they seem so hard to make >:(

With: you know what else is so hard

You: …

You: I’m blocking you.

With: lol no you’re not

You: …No, I’m not. That was funny though, I’ll give you that much

You sigh, pressing your face into your pillow. You don’t know. Even if you did know, you’re unsure if that’s something you want right now.

(Not the whole truth…)

(You do like him.)

(In several ways.)

You decide to go to sleep before this train of thought gets too off the rails.

------------------------------------------

“...Oh, wow,” You say, trying not to gape at the bakery’s prices. You hadn’t realized the small business Jesper had raved about would be so damn expensive … “Wow. Um, maybe I’ll just get a tea, or… Or something.”

“get what you want. i’m buying.” Sans signs, staring at you.

You turn to him, eyebrows raised. “What? You don’t have to, I just wasn’t… Prepared enough, that- that’s on me.”

Sans slings his arm over your shoulder, nodding towards the menu before looking back at you. You get the message. 

“Okay, but…! Next time!” You relent, pocketing your wallet.

Sans chuckles, a puff of air hitting your cheek. “ok.”

He removes his arm - something you immediately miss.

That’s… You’re probably just touch starved.

“will you order for me?”

“Sure, what do you want?”

Sans grins, expression borderline wicked. “for you to order for me. you already said yes, no takebacks.”

You splutter a second. “What?? I- I didn’t know you meant, like, order for you, order for you, I thought you just meant, like, tell the cashier what you want, or- or something!”

Sans shrugs, tussling your hair. “you got this, bud. i’ll go find us a table.” He winks, leaving you standing in line.

Thankfully, there’s still a few people in front of you who haven’t ordered yet. 

You… You can do this!

Probably.

Let’s see… He must like macarons, right? You mean, why would anyone make macarons and not have a few? You don’t think you could stand it - especially if baking is just a hobby.

Flavours, flavours… He doesn’t seem like a coffee kind of guy - probably energy drinks or tea - so that’s out. Definitely no fruits. Not that you think he has anything against fruit desserts, you just think he might enjoy classics more. Chocolate, maybe… Or you could get red velvet? He definitely likes that…

“Hi, and welcome to Muffet’s bakery! What can I get started for ya?” The cashier greets.

Ah, shit.

“Yeah, hi, um… I think I’ll take a dozen red velvet macarons, a dozen chocolate macarons, and, uh… A gallon of spider cider. Oh, and two large cups, please.”

“No problem! Will that be all?”

“Actually…”

You finish ordering, and after a few minutes of waiting (and the several minutes it took for you to find where Sans was sitting), you set your smorgasbord of desserts on the table.

“Ta daaa!” You say, sitting across from Sans. He’d chosen a booth for the two of you - something you can appreciate. Makes you feel less… Exposed. “Oh, and for the record, you’re insane.”

Sans smiles, quirking a brow. “that so?”

You all but slam his change on the table, staring at him with wide eyes. “How did you do that??”

Sans chuckles, bringing a hand to his face.

“Oh, yeah, laugh it up. How in the hell did you manage to sneak that much cash into my hand without me noticing??”

“magic?”

You open your mouth to disagree, but… “Yeah, that makes sense, actually.”

You hear your name from beside you.

“Table 32, sugar skulls kit?” The server asks, placing a tray in front of you.

You smile pleasantly at the server. “Yep, that’s me, thank you!” 

The server nods, leaving as Sans turns to you.

Sans is holding laughter, you can tell - the edges of his teeth keep flicking upwards into the barest of smirks before flattening again in an instant. “sugar skulls, eh?” Sans chuckles, shaking his head. 

“What can I say - I’m getting into the Halloween spirit,” You say, grabbing a skull and some icing. “Plus, y’know… I thought I’d try my hand at making one look like you.”

“ya sure it’s not just because i’m buying?” Sans asks, reaching for a skull.

You roll your eyes as you pipe on your frosting. “Oh, of course. That was my secret goal all along - spend as much of your money as possible.”

“i knew it. you just want me for my boundless wealth.”

“Yeah, you and your… What is it…” You pause in your decoration to examine the receipt. “$87 worth of baked goods and spider cider are what I’ve been after all this time.”

“i can’t believe it. after all this time.” Sans sighs, draping an arm across his forehead.

You huff, gently poking his skull. “Stop covering your socket, I’m trying to ice your eyelight!”

Sans glances at you, looking vaguely mischievous. 

Before you can open your mouth to comment, his skull is inches away from your face, sockets lidded, grin wide.

“better?”

You swallow, eyes widening. Holy shit.

“Uh, yeah, yeah, that’s… That’s better, thank you.” You say, trying (and failing) to hide the fact that you’re just a teeny tiny bit (utterly insanely) flustered.

Sans doesn’t respond, eyelight flaring slightly as he studies your face intently.

You do your best to ignore him as you finish icing the sugar skull, pretending that this skeleton is definitely not making your heart pound out of your chest.

“Okay, that’s enough of that.” You say, pushing his skull back. Sans snickers, clearly aware he got to you. “So… Looks a bit plain, but…”

You pick up your skull, turning it to face Sans. “Ta-da!”

Sans’ eyelight dilates larger than you’ve ever seen it, flicking between your face and the skull. 

After a moment of outright staring at you, Sans signs “i love it.” He quickly gets his phone from his pocket, snapping a few photos. “i gotta show pap, holy shit, that’s…”

Sans turns around his own skull, a shaky (but clear) depiction of skeleton-you. “damn. i feel a little shown up, heh, but… here. i did you.”

“Not yet you haven’t,” You laugh, grabbing your own phone from the table to take a picture.

Sans’ grin widens, making a noise that you can only describe as a low growl. “not yet i haven’t.”

You nearly drop your phone, whipping around to face him. You regain your composure, doing your best to play it off like you definitely meant to almost drop your phone. “Yeah, you wish, bone boy.”

Sans just shrugs, not denying it. “whatever. listen, delete that picture, i forgot something…”

Sans grabs your face, gently but firmly pulling it closer to his own. Your eyes widen, mouth opening just slightly as you gape at him.

What the fuck????

After a moment (that felt much too short), Sans lets go of your face, returning to the sugar skull.

“perfect. i got what i needed, thanks.” Sans signs, not looking at you.

You sit there, mouth open, eyes wide, still staring at Sans in shock.

Sans glances at you, smirking. “what’s a matter with you? look, i finished the skull.”

He turns the skull back towards you, and the only noticeable difference is the cheekbones have the faintest smudge of pink icing.

You sink back into your seat, glaring at him with no real malice. “I don’t blush.”

Sans rolls his eyelight. “sure.”

Before you can verbalize your indignant response, your phone alarm goes off. You curse - you thought you had a lot longer before you had to go to work.

Annoyed, you check your alarm.

1:30 PM

Remember to pick up the shipment before work!!!

You curse, shoving your phone in your pocket as you stand. “Shit, I totally forgot I’m supposed to drive all the way to… I’m sorry, Sans, I… I gotta go.”

He waves his hand dismisively. “no big deal. take a few macarons is all i ask.”

You stuff a few macarons of each flavor into your bag and turn to leave, but…

You hesitate.

You’re not sure why you ask it, really - you’re friends, of course you’ll hang out more.

“Will I see you again?”

“yeah. i promise.”

Chapter Text

You’ve been thinking a lot lately, and it’s about time you asked Sans the question. The question that's known to end friendships, bring together strangers, and altogether disrupt lives.

“Hey, Sans, what color is math?”

Sans turns to you, browbones creased. “...what?”

“What color is math?” You repeat, holding his gaze.

“what… color. is math.”

“Yeah. Stop thinking, just say it!”

“...uh, blue?”

You gasp, clutching your chest. “Oh, man, wow. I had no idea you had such horrible opinions.”

Sans shrugs, looking confused and a tad offended. “what the fuck was i supposed to say?”

“Red, obviously,” You huff, crossing your arms. “Blue is for language arts.”

Sans shoves at your shoulder - gently, but still hard enough to nearly topple you. “okay, i’m not the one with the horrible opinions. red is clearly for language arts. you read a book, not blue it.”

“Oh yeah? What about when I read the equations?”

“bad comeback.”

“Bad opinion!”

“you’re right, your opinion is bad. i’m glad you’re coming to your senses.”

You roll your eyes. “Whatever you say.”

Sans drapes his arm around you, pulling you right up against him. “yep. whatever i say.”

You definitely do not squeak - that would be undignified and horribly embarrassing. Especially in front of your… Well…

‘Crush’ probably isn’t the right word, but…

(It sure is beginning to feel like it.)

Your friend.

“when did you say you have work again?” Sans asks, digging around in the couch for the remote. “and have you seen the remote?”

“Not for a few more hours. And no, I haven’t. Is it under Roomba?” You ask, lifting up the cat in question.

Unsurprisingly, there lies the remote. Roomba meows at the loss of his beloved remote, gently swatting at you.

Er… Less at you, more in your general area.

You snort at his antics, passing the remote to Sans. “Orange cats.”

“orange cats.” Sans agrees, nodding.

You release Roomba, who immediately rushes over to Sans, climbing on him in an attempt to steal the remote. Sans ignores him, flicking through channels with amusement as your menace of a cat climbs on him, chirping every few seconds.

You can’t help your grin as you watch the two. Sans fits so easily into your life, it’s crazy. To be fair, though, you two do have quite a lot in common.

His loose, nearly nonexistent sleep schedule is somehow perfectly aligned with your own, and he’s your only friend who bakes. You have the same sense of humor, and several shared interests - and yet, you two are so different, too. So wonderfully unique, you just…! 

You love it.

And who are you kidding, you… You really like him.

“what’s that look for?” Sans asks, amused.

You turn to whatever show he turned on - had you been staring?? - and roll your eyes, doing your best to appear unbothered. “Nothing, just glad you’re here.”

Sans turns to you, grinning. “i’m glad i’m here too.”

“Pfft. Dork.”

“hey, you said it first.”

“Not relevant.”

“sure.”

“Hey, don’t roll your eyelight at me!”

“me? roll my eyelight? no, no, i would ne- i would never ever -”

“Haha, shut up!”

The two of you dissolve into laughter, the theme song of whatever show Sans landed on playing in the background as you lean against him.

You meant what you said - you really are glad he’s here.

------------------------------------------

You’re up to your teeth in paperwork (pun obviously intended) and contemplating quitting your job to open an Etsy shop when your office phone rings. Grateful for the distraction, you answer immediately. “Hey, what’s up?”

…Whoops. Forgot you’re at work. That is… Not how you’re supposed to answer phone calls. Hopefully, it’s Jesper on the line and not a customer.

“Hey-”

Oh thank god, it’s Jesper.

“-Um, we’ve got a bit of a situation-” Jesper begins, quickly interrupted by incoherent yelling. “I’m on the phone with the dentist right now sir, please give me a moment-”

You take it back. An angry customer is so not the kind of distraction you were hoping for.

Your anxiety spikes - god, you hate having to deal with rude people. Since so much of your job is paperwork and sticking your hands in peoples’ mouths, you tend to forget the customer service aspect as well. 

“-I’ll explain it to you when you get down here. Sorry. Buh-bye.”

And the line goes dead.

You sigh, steeling yourself for whatever shitshow you’re about to walk in on.

Deep breaths.

You hear the yelling before you’re even down the hall - honestly, you’re surprised you hadn’t heard it from your office.

“I mean seriously, what kind of business are you folks running?”

“Sir, I can assure you, everyone on our staff is a qualified professional.”

Jesper looks more than a little annoyed at the man standing in front of him, and frankly, you don’t blame him. You’re impressed he hasn’t just called security already - this sort of patience is unlike him.

The disgruntled man is wearing a two-piece suit and you catch a glimpse of what looks like a very expensive watch. A kid, probably no older than nine - his kid, you assume - stands next to him with clenched fists and anxiety clear on his face.

You step behind Jesper’s desk before addressing the man. It doesn’t really do anything, but you feel a little more protected with the physical barrier between you and the man.

“Hello sir, what seems to be the problem?” You ask, keeping your voice calm and professional.

“Are you the damn dentist around here?!” The man demands.

“Yep, I’m one of the dentists here. What can I help you with?” You’re already annoyed with this guy.

“My boy got his tooth knocked out while playing hockey and you scammers charged us some $2,000 just to slap on a fake tooth that fell out after just a few months!” The man fumes, gesturing wildly.

“Okay, lemme see what I can do for you. Why don’t you two have a seat for me, just out here, and we can discuss probable causes and solutions?”

The man slams his hands on Jesper’s desk and leans over it, clearly trying to get in your space just to intimidate you. “No, I am sick and tired of your rinky-dink little company trying to scam me and my son! I don’t want your damn excuses, what I want is a full refund and a replacement, on the house!”

You hold your ground, looking the customer in the eyes. “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to refrain from putting your hands in our space or I’ll call security.”

The man seethes but surprisingly backs off.

Taking a deep breath, you turn to the kid. “You play hockey, eh?”

The boy nods, looking nervously between you and his father.

“Crowns can come off under pressure or with injury, especially the porcelain ones, which I assume is the crown your son had given the price. Hockey is a tough sport, sir, so crowns cracking or altogether breaking off is just something that happens, especially if you’re prone to fights on the rink.” You explain, keeping your eyes trained on the man. He tenses as you speak, clearly either not believing you or not caring.

Behind him, the door opens, and in walks someone you couldn’t be happier to see.

Sans.

He catches your eye, looking between you and the man. You shake your head, shooting him an exhausted look.

Unfortunately for you, the man notices your silent conversation, turning around to face Sans.

“What, this guy is gonna kick me out? You called security because I’m trying to have a conversation about your guys’ shitty work, are you serious?!” The man rages, gripping the edge of the desk. He sneers, blood rushing to his face. “I’m never fucking coming back here if this is how you treat your patients! You just lost a valuable customer. Fuck you guys!”

The man grips his son by the arm, roughly leading him out the door. His son stumbles next to him, turning to look back at you and Jesper with teary eyes.

You feel a bit like you could cry yourself - that poor kid. If his dad is this explosive in public, you hate to imagine what he’s like behind closed doors.

Of course, the fact you just got screamed at because some kid’s tooth replacement came out while playing a sport infamous for knocking out teeth isn’t exactly helping either.

You take a shaky breath, turning to Jesper. “Hey, what time is it?”

“Time for me to quit this damn job,” Jesper mutters, rubbing his face. “and 1:37.”

Oh, shit, did you ever eat lunch?

As if reading your mind, Sans walks over with a bag of-...

…

Takeout. From your favorite restaurant. You hadn’t even been there with him (yet). Surprised, you take the bag, and yep - filled with your favorites.

Eyes wide, you look up at Sans so fast you’re almost afraid you might need to see a chiropractor. Almost.

How the hell did he know this?!

“Sans, how the hell did you know I liked this place?” You ask, unable and unwilling to stop the shocked happiness from seeping into your voice.

Sans shrugs, grinning. “lucky guess?”

You don’t particularly believe that, but you’re too appreciative of the food to care.

You put the bag down on the desk, ignoring Jesper’s complaints that ‘you’re gonna get food all over the papers, come on , I just signed those, ugh, you’re the worst’.

You rush over to Sans, throwing your arms around him in a hug. He’s a bit tense beneath you but quickly relaxes into it.

Behind you, Jesper looks between you and Sans, raising an eyebrow with a smirk. Sans huffs, rolling his eyelight. Not that you notice - you’re too busy holding back tears and hugging your favorite person to notice.

‘Favorite person’.

Your…

Your crush.

…

…Hoo, boy…

------------------------------------------

“Bye Sans!” You call, unable to hide your smile as you grip the bag of food Sans brought you.

The skeleton in question waves, bell jingling as he leaves.

Since that day with the angry customer, Sans has been coming by every Thursday to bring you food. Sometimes it’s a baked good he made, sometimes leftovers made by his brother, but usually, it’s something from your favorite restaurant.

Every Thursday, at exactly 1:37, Sans shows up with food. You thank him, hug, and he leaves.

You like this new routine of yours.

You turn to leave only to find a smug-looking Jesper staring at you, chin in his hand.

“So. You and Sans, eh?” Jesper asks, grinning.

You roll your eyes, swatting at him with the food. “Shut up, Jes.”

Jesper mimes zipping up his mouth but, to your chagrin, continues talking. “Come on, you know I love a little romance. What’s going on with you two?” 

You put your food on Jesper’s desk, and surprisingly, he says nothing. You raise your eyebrows - he must be really invested if he’s not complaining you’re gonna ‘get grease all over his trinkets’ or something.

“It’s... Really nothing,” You sigh. “He acts flirty, sometimes, but I don’t know if it’s platonic or not.”

Jesper clicks his tongue. “Do you want it to be platonic?”

You hesitate.

Jesper’s grin morphs into a smirk. “Ha! I knew it. You’re into him! Honestly, I’d bet he knows it too.”

You swat at the (annoying, loveable) receptionist. “Jesper!”

He dodges easily, laughing. “Listen, babe, we all know it. You look at him like… Hmm… You look at him like Derek looks - well, looked - at Meredith.”

You give him a flat look. “I don’t watch Grey’s Anatomy.”

“Like Will Byers looks at Mike Wheeler.”

You don’t really watch that show either, but from what you’ve seen on Twitter, you know exactly what Jesper is talking about. “What?! Shut up! No I don’t!” You hiss.

“Oh, you totally do,” Jesper cackles, slapping the desk. “You’ve got a horrible case of heart eyes, hon.”

You groan, hiding your face in your hands. “For the sake of my pride, I hope you’re exaggerating.”

“Listen, I’m not here to make fun of you-” Jes starts, still chuckling.

“Really?” You interrupt, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Yes, really, believe it or not. At least, not just make fun of you. Listen, I’m here to help! I’ve been with my fair share of dudes, you know.”

You do know. As much as Jesper teases you, he knows too much about dating for you to hold it against him - especially now.

“Ugh, I just- I don’t know if he likes me like that, y’know? Maybe I’m… Not his type.” You mumble, leaning against the reception desk.

Jesper sighs, turning to his computer. “Look, you never know unless you try. I think you probably are, if he’s flirting with you - jokingly or otherwise. You like him, and from the looks of it” Jesper looks pointedly at the bag of food brought to you by Sans “he likes you. Shoot your shot! Although, honestly, I wouldn’t worry about that too much. If you don’t do anything soon, he probably will. Sans doesn’t seem like the type to skirt around that sort of thing.”

…Yeah, he’s got you there. Feeling reassured, you thank Jesper and go back to your office to think on it, making sure to grab your lunch.

Maybe you’ll get the guts to ask him out soon.

Maybe.

------------------------------------------

Today, 4:37 PM

With: hey, sorry for the short notice, but wanna come over tonight for dinner?

You: Yeah, fuck it, I’m down. Just for funsies, or is there a reason?

With: cool

With: and no reason

With: what, can’t see my ooey gooey little scrungly pop without a good reason?

You: …

You physically put down your phone for a second, pressing it into your pillow (screen down, obviously) and staring blankly at the wall, trying to process the text Sans just had the audacity to send.

It’s nearly a full minute before you can even begin to fathom how to respond to that.

You: What the fuck is wrong with you?

With: heheheh, what, don’t like the nickname?

You: …NO.

With: heheh, don’t worry, i’ve got others

You: You’re so lucky you’re not here right now, oh my god.

From beside you, the bed creaks, sudden weight making you squeak as you slide closer to-

…

Beside you, a certain skeleton smirks down at you, socket lidded, phone in hand.

Something akin to a growl rumbles through him as he signs “what now?”

You think it’s… Understandable that you do nothing more than stare at him for a moment.

He chuckles, lifting your chin with one phalange. “hm. that’s about what i thought.”

With a wink, he’s gone.

What.

The fuck. 

WAS THAT.

Maybe you’re just dumb, but how long has that bastard been able to teleport??? And why is that how he reveals it??

You… You need a moment.

Beside you, your phone buzzes.

Today, 4:42 PM

With

seeya at six, sweets.

Dazed, confused, and far too flustered to think of anything better, you reply with a simple “See you then! :)”

(Back at his house, Sans hisses a laugh, knowing damn well he got to you.)

Muttering to yourself, you roll out of bed. That damn skeleton. You suppose you should start getting ready - you’ll need an hour or so to shower and get dressed, and then there’s the ten minute walk to his place. Assuming you stay on track, you should get there a little early, but with your time management skills?

You know you’re gonna be grateful for the wiggle room.

After a quick shower and 45 minutes of agonizing over an outfit (you decided on a black and white theme with some red and gold accessories, so you would match with Sans), you’re finally ready to go!

And with a quick text to Sans that you’re on your way, you’re off!

…

Or at least, you try to be.

You open the door to leave only to find your path blocked by an absolute wall of a chest - a familiar wall of a chest.

Blinking, you step back. “Sans? What’re you doing here?”

Sans winks, signing “i’m here to get you to my house in record time”. He holds out his hand, grinning.

You eye him suspiciously. “Why’re you standing like you’re about to offer me a magic carpet ride or something?”

Sans chuckles, running his hand over his skull. “no magic carpet, but…” He gently grabs your wrist, pulling you against him. The hand gripping your wrist moves to your back, lightly but firmly pressing you to him. “i can offer you a ride.”

Yep. Crush is the right word here.

“Well- But-... You-! You don’t even have a car!” You splutter.

Sans leans down, just far enough that his hand is still visible to sign. “i know a shortcut.”

Head empty, heart pounding, unable to formulate a response, you just stare.

You blink.

And when you open your eyes, you’re not standing in the living room of your apartment anymore - you’re in Sans’ living room, the backs of your legs pressed against his couch.

Sans grins, smug and sharp-toothed, pushing you back onto the couch and turning to the kitchen in one smooth motion.

You yelp, incapable of doing anything but letting yourself sink into Sans’ loveseat after… That.

Shaking your head, you turn your attention to the (honestly somewhat less) exciting event - you just teleported.

“Dude, seriously, how long have you been able to teleport?” You demand, taking off your shoes. You, unlike some people you know, have manners. “First the little stunt you pulled earlier, now this? And I’ve known you for how long??”

Sans returns to the living room, carrying two plates of spaghetti. He grins, nodding to the plates.

You huff, turning toward the tv, remote in hand. “Meh meh meh, I’m Sans, I’m gonna hold spaghetti so I can’t explain to my stunning, well-dressed, good-looking bestie how I can teleport.”

You take the plates and set them on the coffee table, hissing laughter coming from your gracious host, your hilarious impression apparently distracting him too much to do it on his own.

Sans taps your shoulder and despite your pretend annoyance, you turn to him.

“would a kiss make you feel better?”

You nearly drop the remote in surprise, doing a double take. “Sorry, a- a kiss? For real?”

Sans shrugs, staring at you expectantly. “sure.”

You turn to face him, feeling awkward. “I- I mean, if… If you’re offering, like, for serious…”

“yes or no, sweets.”

“Um… Yeah.”

Sans shrugs, grabbing you by the cheeks. Your heart pounds, blood rushing through your ears - this is it.

He pulls you to him, closer, closer, then…!

He leans back, letting you go.

You put your head in your hands. “What. Was. That.”

Sans snickers evilly as you glare at him through your fingers. “it was to cheer you up, but then i figured, nah, you’re already looking pretty cheery.”

You glare at him a moment longer before turning towards the tv. You’re in dire need of a distraction.

From your annoyance, from… From what almost just happened…

From the corner of your eye, you see Sans sign “fine, ya don’t have to pout over it.”

Before you can respond, Sans grabs your waist, pulling you into his lap and pressing his teeth against your lips.

You sit there, stunned, before melting into it. You haven’t had many kissing partners in the past, but this…

This was unlike anything you’d ever experienced.

It was gentle, so much gentler than you had taken Sans for, as though he was afraid you would break and the moment would end.

And eventually, it does - after a bit (you don’t know how long, and frankly, you don’t care) Sans pulls away, cupping your face with one hand.

You open your eyes - when had you closed them? - and see Sans, eyelight searching your face.

It’s a few seconds before the reality of what just happened hits you.

Your eyes widen and, panicked, you hug Sans, burying your face in his chest. 

Holy shit what the fuck was that.

He chuckles, the rise and fall of his chest and gentle puffs of hair from the crack in his jaw comforting you despite everything. 

You know you’re going to have to break this hug soon, so you can see him sign, but the thought of having to face him (despite the fact that he initiated it) is…

You need a minute.

So you take one.

Eventually, Sans taps you, and you pull back.

His grin is wider than you’ve ever seen it, socket lidded, eyelight dilated. “you liked it, then?”

You roll your eyes, pushing yourself back onto the couch. “It was okay.”

“sure.”

You lean against Sans, staring directly at the television and pointedly not looking at the skeleton in question. “So… Does this mean, like… What are we?”

Next to you, Sans shrugs. “up to you.”

“I mean, it’s also up to you, and you started it, so… Like, are we just… Friends? Who kiss sometimes? Or- or what, like… Dating? Or something?”

Sans signs your name, looking at you with an unreadable expression. “it’s up to you. i’m down for whatever.”

“But like, do you like me? Like, romantically?”

Sans just stares at you for a moment.

“Don’t! Look at me like that! It’s a genuine question!” You squawk.

“sweets, i’ve been flirting with you for the past… however long we’ve known each other, and we just kissed.”

“But like… Was it a friend kiss, or..?”

Sans rolls his eyes, sighing. “you’re weird.”

He gently grabs your chin, kissing you lightly.

“So… Not as a friend, then?”

He chuckles, running his hand over his skull. “no, not as a friend. we are literally on a date.”

Your jaw drops. “Wait, for real?”

“...you… you’re pulling my leg, right? yankin’ my chain, or whatever?”

“No???”

“we’ve been on like, two dates now. three, if you count this one.”

“What?  When was the first one?”

“when we went to muffet’s, the bakery? sweets, i even said ‘it’s a date’.”

You turn to him, the TV show completely forgotten. “I thought that was just a figure of speech???”

Sans looks at you for a long moment. Slowly, he turns to the TV, shaking his head.

“Don’t shake your head at me! I’m- I’m a little stupid, okay?” You laugh.

Fully ignoring you, Sans picks up his plate - you nearly forgot about the spaghetti - and begins to eat. You roll your eyes, picking up your own plate, but don’t say anything more.

A smile tugs at your lips. Three dates, eh?

You can’t wait for number four.