Work Text:
"Hi, you've reached the Ebott City elevator hotline. Is this an emergency?"
You hover over the transfer button, ready to redirect the call if necessary.
"Oh.. uh, hey there. I wouldn't call it that, I'm doing alright."
The voice that responds is deep and resonant, with a warm tone about it. You imagine a kind man in his mid twenties, with a beard and rich brown eyes.
"That's good to hear. In that case, what can I help you with today?"
"..Well, I'm here in this elevator, and it stopped somewhere around floor seventeen and never started moving again. The doors are stuck shut."
"Oh, dear. I'm so sorry to hear that."
"Aw, I'm not in a hurry or anything, so it's no trouble."
You run through your mental checklist for a broken lift.
"Is there anyone else in the elevator with you?"
"Nope. Just me."
"Are you feeling panicked, lightheaded or claustrophobic?"
"Nah, I'm fine, sweetheart, no worries."
"I'm so glad to hear it. Is anyone waiting on you? If you'd like, I can contact them on your behalf and keep them updated on the situation."
"Just my brother, but I can send him a text; he'll be fine."
"Alright. If anything changes, please let me know right away and I can transfer you to the emergency line. Otherwise, I'll just stay here and keep you company until we can fix the issue. Either way, I promise you won't have to wait alone."
You click the link to send an alert out to maintenance, but it's a Sunday, so you know from experience it's going to be a long wait. Luckily, this guy seems like the patient type.
"Heh, I appreciate that. So, uh, how does all this work anyhow?"
You pick up a pen, turning to a fresh page in your notebook to scribble in.
"You mean the hotline?"
"Yeah. I'm curious."
"Well, it depends on the situation, of course, but our non-emergency team actually works locally from the hotel. Our job is to stand by and answer phones in case of an issue. Right here from our computers, we can alert maintenance to a problem, monitor elevator footage, or redirect calls to the emergency lines if necessary."
Of course, all those fancy words to say that you work from your bedroom in your headset and pajamas, and outsource the serious calls to the pros. It's really not a bad gig; most days you don't even get a call to begin with.
"You watch the cameras?"
"Oh, don't worry. We don't view the footage unless we're explicitly asked to. That, or if you were to stop responding; in which case, I would be obligated to check and make sure you're still alright in there."
"So.. what if I ask you to?"
You hold your breath. You're not sure where this is going, but you're a little nervous. He doesn't sound like a creep or anything, but.. they don't always seem sketchy at first.
"..Hypothetically speaking, if you asked me to, I would have to check to make sure you were safe."
"..Nah, I'll leave it up to you; just do whatever you like."
You blink, taken aback. You don't really know how to take that response.
"I've never been given a choice before. Is this a test?" you tease politely.
"Nope. Some people like knowing who they're talking to, some don't. Just do what you wanna do. If we're being honest, though, you strike me as the curious type."
...Well, damn. Now you have to look. This is clearly some sort of mind game, but he's got you pegged; you're dying to know.
In no time at all, you have the camera feed pulled up on your desktop to see.. a skeleton? He's a monster, you realize. Of course. For some reason, it hadn't even occurred to you as a possibility. Though it really should have, considering Ebott's diverse population.
"But if you're not interested, I get that, too. I mean, there's something pretty neat about not knowing, I guess."
He's standing there with the phone between his head and his shoulder, arms folded, twirling the curly red telephone wire around his finger as he talks. He's.. kind of cute.
"No, no, you had it right the first time," you admit, sheepish. "I really was curious."
He looks up at the camera with a raised eyebrow, a sharp gold canine glinting in the light as he gives you a smirk.
"..Is that past tense, I hear?"
Oh.. did you think 'cute'? Scratch that. He's hot.
"Heh, well then, nice to meet you. I'm Sans. Sans the Skeleton."
You have to bite back a smile.
"Shall I call you Mr Skeleton, then?"
He barks out a laugh, caught off guard by your playful response.
"Fontaine. Sans Fontaine."
"Mr Fontaine.. what a lovely name you have."
He smiles, and you find yourself drawing little flowers on the borders of your notepad.
"My brother would be happy to hear that. He worked hard on it when we got to the surface."
"Oh? Was it different before?"
"Not different, per say. But most monsters don't have last names."
You stop your scribbles, curious. This is news to you.
"Really? Why is that?"
"Instead of family names, monsters go by titles. It's kind of a reputation thing; how other monsters know you. Sans the Skeleton, Papyrus the Terrible, Undyne; Captain of the Royal Guard..."
"..So no one had last names at all down there?"
"Well, back in the day, the Queen's title was 'Toriel the Dreamer', but the humans mistook it for a surname. So the royal family went by Dreemur to make things simple. But it's not the standard."
You nod thoughtfully, but quickly remember he can't see you, and sit up in your chair to answer properly.
"That's really interesting, Mr. Fontaine."
Sans chuckles.
"You know, you don't have to be so stiff with me, doll. We're just talking."
You wince. It did sound pretty 'customer service', even to you.
"Oh, um.. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to offend you."
"Not at all. But.. can I ask you something?"
"Of course!"
"Are these calls recorded? I've noticed human phones tend to do that kind of stuff."
"Oh, no, not us. Not unless you're redirected to the emergency lines."
"And.. is anyone there watching or listening to you?"
You hesitate, your cheeks turning pink. Somehow, this question feels a little..
"N-no, there's no one."
Sans turns to the camera with a wink.
"Then take a breather. I think I'd prefer you cussing me out over all the professionalism. At least then I know you're being real with me."
"Oh.. I hope you don't think I'm being insincere; I mean every word."
"Nah, I figured. But still. Just.. Relax with me. Say whatever you want to."
If it were anyone else, you would just apologize and redirect their attention, but.. with him, it's tempting.
"...Whatever I want? Are you sure about that?"
He grins, leaning back against the wall to rest his free hand behind his skull.
"Off the record, sweetheart. I've got no body to tell."
You giggle at his awful joke, and you know you've lost.
Sans seems delighted.
"If you say so, but.. let me know if you change your mind. It's no skin off my back."
Sans snickers, a genuine smile in his eyes, and you let yourself relax.
"Believe me; I won't."
"Alright, then.. can I ask you something personal?"
"Shoot," he grins, stretching out his arms in front of him.
"You keep moving your hands like you're cracking your knuckles, but.. do you actually have joints to pop? Or is that a learned habit?"
He stills, caught right in the act as you ask him, and chuckles.
"Yeah, I guess that is kind of odd, when you think about it. It must be something I picked up on the surface. It's become a bit of a nervous habit these days, whenever I'm craving a smoke."
"Oh.. skeletons can smoke?"
He shrugs.
"Yeah, but I'm trying to quit. I don't have any lungs to wreck, but I should really kick the nicotine, anyhow."
"No lungs..?" you repeat, mostly to yourself.
"Heh, yeah. Anatomically speaking, I'm pretty bare-bones," he teases.
He leans back against the wall, crossing one ankle over the other and slipping his free hand into his jacket pocket, the other back to toying with the phone wire.
The look he gives you is borderline sultry.
"Anything else you're curious about?"
Heat floods your cheeks. You can think of several things, none of which appropriate for this phone call.
"..You know, Mr Fontaine, I'm not supposed to say this, but your nonchalance is actually pretty impressive, for someone literally trapped in a broken elevator."
He clutches his chest as if he's wounded, the telephone wire still wrapped around his finger.
"Ouch. Again with the formalities. Call me Sans."
You let out a laugh, and his eyes visibly light up.
"Alright, then, Sans. I'm glad to see you're handling this well."
He smiles at the ground, and you think you see a slight red tinge his cheekbones, but the video isn't high enough quality to tell for sure.
"Honestly, sweetheart? If you're on the line, I'd probably wait here for days."
"Oh, wow. That's.. damn, that was smooth." You admit.
He coughs out a laugh, startled.
"Oh yeah? You think so?"
You grin.
"I haven't lied yet."
"Heh, good to know."
You don't recall when, but at some point, you'd started sketching little doodles of Sans. You try to capture this expression while you still can, putting it right in the center, much larger than the others. You think this smile is your favorite so far.
"Hey, Sans?"
"Yeah, sweetheart?"
"..Are you still open for personal questions?"
He looks down at the red cord for a moment, absently rubbing at it with his thumb.
"Sure. Ask me anything."
"Are your teeth.. very sharp?"
He glances up at the camera again, wordlessly, and you feel like he's staring right through you. You can't help but to blush.
"U-um, that is, I mean.."
After a long few seconds, he answers, his voice low.
"..Not if I'm gentle."
A thrill runs down your spine, and you shiver.
"R-right, of course.."
"..Next question?"
His smile is soft and sincere, but his eyes are intense.
You don't dare put this expression on paper. Instead, you catch yourself drawing little hearts in the blank spots.
"Oh.. um.. well, it's a little silly, but.."
"Go for it, doll."
"Do you.. eat and drink?"
He gives you a quiet laugh, but not unkind.
"Yeah, I do.. I even have a tongue."
...He's messing with you. He's totally messing with you. There's no fucking way--
"You do?"
His smile widens dangerously.
"You wanna see?"
"..Maybe," you mumble.
He lets out a breathy chuckle at your meek admission.
"Then I'll have to show it to you someday," he drawls, closing his eyes and resting his head on the wall behind him.
"Wait, what? Not today?"
He opens one eye with a smirk, and it hits you.. You walked right into a trap.
"What, you wanna see it that bad?"
Shit. He's so hot.
"......Yes."
He chokes on a laugh, caught off guard by your blunt response, and lightly pats his chest as he catches his breath, again.
"Wow, alright. I appreciate the honesty."
Your heart flutters without your permission, and you glance at the time.
"..You uh, you said you have plans today? With your brother?"
He pulls out his cell phone, typing something brief before slipping it back into his pocket.
"Nah, he's going without me. He's the punctual type."
You huff out a laugh, knowing damn well you just watched him text his brother to go ahead without him.
"I see.. Sorry you couldn't make it," you lie politely.
Sans smiles with his eyes, hearing right through you.
"Nah, that's alright. I'll make it up to him."
You almost don't want to look away, but the elevator should be fixed any minute now.. Quietly, you stand up from your desk and stretch, making sure your headset is secure, and walk to your closet to pick out something to wear.
"Hey, Sans..?"
"Something on your mind, doll?"
"Yeah. What's your favorite color?"
"It depends. What color are your eyes?"
A surprised giggle escapes you, and you can practically hear Sans beaming.
"No, seriously, what's your favorite?"
"Hm.. I'm obligated to say red, but.. between you and me, I'm actually quite partial to blue. The soft kind, not the cerulean."
"Like a sky blue?" you ask him, sifting through your closet.
"Softer than that.. like.. the first chill of winter and the smell of sweet peppermint."
You stop to think for a moment, before pulling a powder blue cashmere sweater from the closet.
"..You know, somehow, I think I know exactly what you're talking about."
You dig out some dark grey pants that pair well with it, and toss them both on the bed while you fix your hair.
"That's good, 'cause I was really grasping for straws, there."
You get it just the way you like it, carefully maneuvering the headset as you work so that you can still hear him.
"Well, I thought it was lovely."
Sans chuckles.
"What's funny?" You ask him.
"Nothing; I just got a text from my bro. He's not the best with affection."
You imagine another skeleton, someone punctual, who would work very hard on a last name because he's concerned about his image. You imagine him giving Sans a hard time, but meaning well, and your heart melts just a little.
"That's really sweet, though. In its own way."
"Yeah, he's really great."
You hear a familiar whirring sound; the moving of an elevator. You hop over to the computer, just in time to catch Sans' mournful gaze at the emergency phone.
"Sans? Can you hear me?"
He blinks, and the look is gone; he's smiling at the camera again like nothing's wrong.
"Loud and clear, sweetheart."
"So it sounds like the elevator's moving, again.."
"..Yeah, it is."
"Well, maybe it's unprofessional to ask, but.."
You faintly hear his breath catch, as he looks up at the camera with a glimmer of hope.
"I mean, since your plans fell through, I thought.. If you don't mind waiting just a little longer, I could meet you in the lobby in about.. ten minutes?"
His eyes widen, and it takes him a moment to respond. When he does, it's barely audible, but you hear every word.
"I'd.. really like that."
You silently cheer, giddy with relief.
"Alright, then! It's a date."
Just then, you hear the elevator chime, the doors sliding open in front of him. There's a voice outside the elevator asking if he's alright, and he's quick to cover the mic and reassure them, but before he hangs up, he brings the phone back to his face with a smile.
"..See you soon, sweetheart."
11:48am
(hey boss. stuck in an elevator. might not make it to lunch in time.)
[That's the most ridiculous garbage I've ever heard. Just use a shortcut.]
(can't. on the phone.)
[I expect you here at 1pm sharp.]
12:54pm
(still in the elevator. don't wait up.)
[Fine, imbecile.]
1:02pm
[Whoever it is you're doing this for better be worth your time.]
(thanks, boss. love you too.)
1:07pm
(i think.. i just got a date?)
[I would reasonably hope so, idiot. Use my card.]
[But if I hear you dragged them to that flaming grease trap you call Grillby's, so help me Sans, I'll have your skull on a silver platter.]
(you're the best, boss.)
[Don't push your luck.]
You lock up the door to your hotel room and slip your key card into your wallet. Double checking that you've brought everything, you start walking to the lobby. One of the benefits of an on-site response job is living on the first floor of the hotel, meaning you don't have to touch the elevators with a ten foot pole. Which is nice, considering how many calls you get every winter. But hey, that's job security.
You peek around the corner into the lobby, and almost immediately spot Sans. He's changed into a dark red dress shirt and slacks, and you take a moment to appreciate the sight as he checks his watch, staring expectantly at the elevators in front of him.
You think this is the first time you've seen him look impatient all day, and you're kind of flattered.
Casually walking up beside him, you check your phone for the time, pretending to be waiting on a lift.
"Oh, uh, sorry, going up?"
You have to bite back a grin as you think of the perfect response.
You glance at him sideways as his hand hovers over the call button, unsure.
"Actually, I was hoping we could go out."
He gasps, instantly brightening at the sound of your voice.
"Sweetheart!"
You giggle, watching as he blinks at you in disbelief.
"You're.. wow. You're really something gorgeous, huh?"
You feel your face burn, and you brush him off, flustered.
"You're too sweet, thank you."
"I mean it, truly.. Soft blue looks real nice on you, doll."
You give him a shy smile, his sincerity making your chest feel fuzzy. You're glad he'd noticed.
"You're pretty easy on the eyes yourself, Mr Fontaine.."
"Thank you.." he murmurs, his face glowing. It's really cool to see in person; his blush is the same pretty red as his eyes. "You.. said you were hoping to go out?" he asks.
"Well, I figure you must be hungry, after missing lunch. Do you like coffee?"
"Quite a latte," he winks. "But I was actually thinking we could go somewhere nice tonight. My treat."
"Oh," you breathe. "I mean, if you're sure?"
"Believe me, it's no trouble."
Sans holds out his hand, and gently, you take it, fascinated by the soft warmth, not too unlike skin.
"How do you feel about sushi? I've heard that new restaurant in Southern Ebott is pretty great."
You giggle, assuming he's teasing, but he just waits for a response.
"W-wait, really? But that's so far away!"
He grins, his eyes twinkling with something like mischief, and he gives your hand a light squeeze.
"No worries; I've got a shortcut."