Chapter Text
The release of the Underground was an almost unbelievable piece of history, even today, seven months after the occurrence.
It took a while for Ebott to allow refuge; for almost 6 weeks, monsters were forced to camp out at the base of the mountain while human civil service workers continued to prod and pry into the history of monsterkind. At some point, the Queen was concerned about the safety of her subjects due to the amount of weapons being brought to each meeting, which caused a massive scandal at the capability of the human government’s actions.
Even after a small collection of humans voted for monster rights to be considered, it still seemed they were remnants of a forgotten species. Monsters weren’t being employed, would be evicted at any chance given, there had even been reports of refusal of entry at certain establishments.
Humans treated monsters as if they were ready to kill at any moment, and despite the best efforts of the monster ambassador, they still continued to this day to be discriminated against.
Only recently was Sans let go from his temp job at a warehouse, yet it felt like months had gone by without pay. Due to the low income monsters are faced with, losing your job at such a stressful time almost puts you at an all time low. Even with Papyrus’ position as a human enforcer (in training), it wasn’t enough for Sans to keep himself on his feet. Years of relying on his brother had struck at his pride.
So far, he had applied for hundreds of positions, even ones he knew had had no experience or qualifications in, hoping for at least a few of them to consider his lacklustre expertise. Little luck was thrown his way, as only five had come back to him, interested in his abilities and what he can bring to the company.
He was currently riding the bus to the outskirts of Ebott, travelling to a remote area that was far too close to the monster transit border. Sans was worried about the implications of some humans seeing him travel so far, but he pushed his nerves down in the hope that he might possibly have a good experience at the interview. The last few that he had gone to weren’t as hoped.
Apparently monsters were meant to state on their CV that they were inhuman; it had been quite a peculiar experience for him to arrive all dressed up for an interview only for him to be shut down immediately. Weren’t humans meant to be all about acceptance? What bullshit.
Thankfully, if he managed to get this job, he would be provided with accommodation, as said on the website. That meant finally being able to get out of Papyrus’ skull and being able to provide for himself – although Sans wasn’t quite sure what Papyrus would say at the knowledge that he would be working for a pub.
At some point through the journey, the buildings and roughed up area began to disperse, opening up into more of a nicer greenery. Soon, the bus came to a stop, allowing Sans to step off onto the edge of the road. He ignored the stares from his fellow travel-goers and instead watched the bus speed right back off into the opposite direction.
It was fairly chilly, not exactly the cold he was used to, for a second he regretted putting on his nice suit instead of his usual puffy jacket.
One of the many details he noticed was that it was a vaguely secluded area, the trees harbouring an entrance that he could describe as effortlessly stunning. The sun cascaded delicately through the leaves, creating a kaleidoscopic effect as the bark curved inwards. As he continued forwards, he noticed some wooden tables dotted around the area, all laundered in thick, silk carmine fabric. Leafs and general wilderness had begun to cover the furniture, however, considering the lack of dirt, he presumed they were cleaned off regularly.
It seemed as though the clearing became less so and more a general man-made pathway, no fence nor obstruction put in place, yet he began to step on skilfully placed gravel that guided the way. The shrubbery was well kept and happily so, it seemed as if this entrance was very well thought out. Sans was beginning to think about how he couldn’t fit in with a snobby and tidy place.
The overhung trees clear up, and Sans was able to see the sunlight properly again, taking note of the mobile home situated at the end of the passage.
A human man sat on the steps, fiddling with what seemed to be a piece of grass between his lips, possibly trying to blow it, but failing evidently. The man takes notice of Sans, and immediately perks up.
“Well, I’ll be-!” He starts, what seems to be a wide grin appearing on his face as his long unkempt facial hair turns upwards.
Sans begins to take in his appearance: a rough man, possibly in his late 40s-early 50s. He wears what seems to be a handmade hat on top of his bald head, alongside multiple belts that hold different tools and tribulations. A long white beard accompanied his pointed moustache which stood out against his red checked shirt and brown overalls. He generally seemed to be the kind of human Sans would 100% count off as a person with typical intelligence, but he’s been wrong before.
“You must be colder than a witches’ tit, young fellar!”
Perhaps Sans was right.
He assumed that this was one of the workers around the area, perhaps not the person meant to be doing his interview but he wouldn’t count on leaving a bad impression.
“yeah, well, when ya got bones as dense-a mine you don’t really feel the breeze.” Sans joked, using his hands to air out the suit jacket as if he was somehow warm.
“How do ya, son? Wha’s with the suit? Lookin’ like one-a them high-cotton men!”
Sans pauses momentarily, before answering, perhaps a bit too bluntly, “isn’t this an interview?”
With a scoff, the human waves his hand around in objection, “Ah phooey! Interview-schminterview! If I had my druthers, this here honky-tonk wouldn’t need one of them ornery pro-fess-i-o-nal shit.”
He took hold of Sans’ shoulder with a welcoming grip, turning the monster to face the stairs leading down to the pub. Sans immediately shakes off his hold, but the man didn’t seem too bothered by it, instead gesturing to the area widely.
“You see here, lad, the youngun here runnin’ this place put me in charge of makin’ sure yer a good fit! They one of my kin, ya see, took me in and let me stay across the moat. This here roughnut’s been trusted to give you a good ol’ shakedown so you better stay ‘ttentive!”
Definitely a warning, Sans wouldn’t put it past him that he’d be weeded off at any immediate notice, even coming from a guy as brainless as this.
“you got it, chief. c’mon, does it really seem like I’m really one-a them ‘ornery’ folk? nothin’ gets under my skin.”
The joke seems to go on deaf ears as it takes a couple of seconds for a reaction. “I see yer tryna make a joke and I ain’t got the brains to understand but I find it funny anywho!”
A small wave of nerve shakes through Sans, but with a mask of comedy, he reaches into his pocket to slide something rather funny into his hand. While it hasn’t been used for quite a while, his trusty hand buzzer has never failed to make cheerful people like this laugh – he just hoped at the very least that it would be acceptable in a professional situation to do such a thing, no matter how many times this weird man stated it was informal.
“What’s the name son?”
Sans reaches out his hand in an invitation to shake, a somewhat strained grin across his skull. “sans, sans the skeleton.”
As expected, a hand earnestly grips his own, only for the flesh to receive a hearty shock – the human shoots his hand back to press at it, the pulsation a clear indicator of what had just happened.
Sans was concerned about his position for a second as the man hissed, but that soon faded into vague relief as he exploded into cheerful laughter. “Yer one funny man, mr jason n’ the skeletons! Let’s hope ya don’t ‘bone’ this one up.”
“it’s sans, not jason?”
“And my name’s Billy Hill! Scrap collector extraordinaire! – yeah, tha’s right, means real good.”
—
Billy led Sans down a deep set of unsupported man-made stairs, very overtly having been prematurely completed at the expense of the other aesthetics. As he began to reach the first set of steps, he took in the appearance of the lakefront —
The pub was surprisingly jovial in appearance, the starkly painted white bricks contrasting nicely with the connected wooden building below. It seemed well-kept, perhaps a little too plain, but the warm glow from the windows and the welcoming doorway was decorated with playful little slogans. The columns holding the anatomy were made out of timber, the deck a deep down of cherry wood. Sans found it amusing that the welcoming mat was spelt wrong – once again, another man-made aspect.
Sans peeked down the next set of stairs to take a better look at the rest of the building. It was your attractive two story home with a cute awning protecting the door from unwanted sunlight.
Large, brilliantly blue water separated this area of the land and the next, what seemed to be some sort of run-down industrial area on the opposite end. Sans suspected that was Billy’s home, as if he looked hard enough, he could make out multiple piles of scraps. Maybe if he sucked up to Billy, he could use them for future mini-projects.
Billy yanks the door of the pub open, allowing Sans to enter inside with curious sockets.
“Now this here is ma kin’s place-a work. They called it the ‘Come On Inn’! So proud of the word play!”
Sans grins slightly.
“You ever worked at a bar, lad?”
With a shrug, Sans goes to put his hands in his pockets only to remember his usual jacket was back at home. He sincerely does regret wearing his brother's suit now, it doesn’t even fit him properly.
“nah, but i know the basics. got enough experience for it anyways.”
The inside was remarkably boring, the basics you’d expect from a pub. The foyer was embellished with nutty items and overhanging foundations to keep the room cosy. Apart from the sickening zig-zagged pink and white carpet, nothing really stood out as strange. The bar was head to toe with alcohol and drinks Sans had not seen before. Definitely some that would suit his tastes, but with the lack of magic produced in human drinks, he wouldn’t be able to drink any of them without it falling right through him.
There were two exits leading behind the bar, both decorated with beads and curtains to keep the area feeling open, but to also reduce any prying eyes from looking in. The windows were open, allowing the cool breeze to drift in, he suspected it was due to how stuffy the insulation can make it.
“There’ll always be one person on deck, if you’re makin’ drinks, MC’ll either be out n’ about checking over customers, cleaning, or making some grub out back.”
Sans perks up momentarily at the thought, younger memories of a cosy evening sat at Grillbys’, trying out some trial snacks he had whipped up in the back. They were usually all shit, varying from underdone to overdone, but the few that were cooked properly tasted like pure perfection.
“like grillbs?” he asked, almost to himself.
Billy takes a moment to think before responding, most likely under the impression that he misheard, “Like a grill? Yeah, we gotta grill! Make all sorta stuff! I swear you should try summa MC’s quesadillas– made just like my momma did before she passed.”
Sans used to sell quesadillas at his stand in Hotland. It was Papyrus’ favourite dish to make during his training; of course, now his culinary expertise has expanded to teriyaki. Supposedly it was something Undyne got him interested in, and since then, he had been training to perfect it. If you call coming home with a live squid the road to perfection.
“what about days n hours?” Sans asks, hoping nothing too drawn-out.
Billy places his hands upon his hips, “10 to 4! 6 hours-a official work erry day, of course yer free to show up before 10 and help prepare but usually people tend to keep things perty clean round here.”
With a short giggle, Billy leans in to faux whisper, “Cus MC’ll chop their heads off if not!”
As the conversation went on, Sans began to feel more and more confident about his position here. It was good hours, good pay, not to mention free accommodation with extra rooms to spare – the only downside was how far away it was from Ebott and how close it was to the travel border.
Perhaps in a couple of years time he’d be allowed to travel further, but for now, he still has the nagging sensation in the back of his skull telling him to be weary. Nevertheless, there was still one more question he was set to ask, something he’d asked all of his interviewers so far.
“N’ I reckon that’s perty much it for here. Any questions?”
“yeah, uh - what’re the customers usually like?” He asks, perhaps a little too hesitantly, “generally, i mean.”
Billy throws his hands up almost in exasperation, “Welp! – gettin’ cold at the moment which is why MC thought ta hire ya, nobodies really comin’ in while the roads are all slippery. We be perty far away from town so people either drive or get a bus in. You’ll get the odd one or two dumb hicks, don’t think there’s been any issues recently.”
Sans understood the idea. Less customers meant more time to spend on training him up, but it also meant that he’d be pretty much thrown into the deep end with interactions with humans, something he generally wished to avoid. They annoyed him too easily. He needed to build up to that, maybe if he got the job, he could convince the owner to post a couple of ads on Undernet for a more monster-friendly bar.
“no, i meant, uh - is there any, um -“
“Now, c'mon boy, don’t go getting quiet on me! Speak in me ear.”
“are there any monsters?”
Standing up straight, Billy ponders for a moment in recollection, before letting out a large huff of air. He shook his head lightly.
“We had one come down n’ talk to MC once about partnership, but no, not many monsters seen here I’m afraid.” He paused, before continuing rather sharply, “Not that it’s a bad place for monsters! It’s advertised as one-a them monster-friendly bars, MC’s real interested in getting some more down.”
Sans nods his head, imaginably annoyed but rather understanding. He never would’ve thought to come right down here for a drink out. It was too far away and was run by humans, not many monsters can stomach human food unless it has a specific percentage of magic embedded in it. He reckons the partnership could be for a similar reason.
“right. tha’s not too bad then.” His grin simmers under his demeanour, “they-uh, ain’t too marrow -minded at least.”
Once again, Billy seems to have missed the pun, responding with a hearty ‘right’, turning back towards the front door to lead Sans outside. Sans tries to ignore the annoyance creeping up his spine.
They both travel down the extra set of steps, with Sans now being able to identify a busted up bike laying upon the gravel flooring. It was red, and looked almost as if it had been hit by a truck. He wondered if that was why the big boss didn’t come out for the interview instead, maybe they were recovering from some sort of biking injury?
“Now, down here is the lakeside. Ya see that old shack right up there? That’s my place, if ya need anything just hop on over.” Billy hums.
Sans almost felt entranced by the lake. The amount of years he spent in Waterfall couldn’t compare to the placid statement of surface waters. Monastery quiet, layered with brick, and littered with large stones that he could only assume to be for crossing the rather generous body of water.
Almost unknowing, he dipped his trainer into the water.
“Be careful not to fall in though – there’s piranhas in em.”
Only to immediately jump back with a loud ‘shit!’, falling straight on his ass. Billy’s laugh was beginning to piss him off.
—
“And a-course – here’s yer livin accommodations.”
Billy had gone into detail what kind of mentality and thought process would be needed for the job, saying outright that if you strayed, you would not do well in the position. Sans could already tell he was being warmed about the warmer seasons, where more people are willing to travel for a nice meal or a night out.
As it turned out, the mobile home at the entrance end was the accommodation promised. While it seemed rather small from an outsider's perspective, as Sans looked around inside, it was actually quite extensive.
“Reeeal gussied up.” Billy commented, still stood at the door.
The lounge area was set up with a left hand facing corner sofa, including a console that cut off the seating area from the circular dinner table. To the left onwards was the kitchen, with plenty of cupboard space, already including an oven and even a washing machine – very helpful.
“Yer new boss won’t be expecting it to be all that clean, so don’t worry bout that. There’s a buncha electronic stuff hooked up to the place, a shower, couplea beds if you want people stayin’ round. Even an oven.”
Sans was pretty much sold. Although there was a small patch of mould growing in the corner of the shower, it could be easily solved with proper ventilation or maybe even leaving the bathroom door open to let the damp out. The two extra bedrooms were nice, even though rather cramped. He tried to imagine who he could invite over but all he could think about was his brother – this was definitely not up to his standards.
“Mini fridge broke, so you’ll have to wait for MC to getcha a new one.”
After having a good look around, Sans returns to the lounge area to find Billy sitting on the sofa, once again trying to make music with a strand of grass. “it’s nice, yeah, kinda spacious.”
Billy hums, trying a couple more blows before flicking the strand from his hand.
He slaps his hands on his thighs, “So whendya think you’ll wanna start?”
Sans hesitated, rather confused at the blunt question, “huh?”
“Ya got the job, T-800!”
Anxiety turned to confusion, confusion turned to anger. Difficult emotions ran through Sans’ head similarly to the vicious lakeside he loved so dearly.
“what- furreal- seriously? i ain’t even met the fuckin’ boss!”
“I was entrusted to find the right suitor, and I found him. They’ll love ya! I just know it.”
“is this some kinda trick? use a poor worthless monster for capital gain kinda shit?” Sans’ hands shook lightly as he gestured. “i ain’t no fuckin’ zoo animal, ya know man!”
Shaking his hands around in protest, Billy’s expression morphs into shock, “Woah, woah, hold yer horses! I ain’t seein you like a monster at all.”
His response only seemed to provoke Sans – “that’s some real cheap shit, y’know that?!”
The idea that you simply can’t see species is pathetic, even within the human race in of itself. Every single type of monster has different needs, appearances and abilities to function within society. To say you see everyone the same is to say that you don’t see the culture behind others, that you don’t see their experiences as a person. It’s a type of denial that only circulates prejudice rather than squashes it, unlike what humans seem to believe.
Instead of being blind to species, it only makes people blind to racial injustices.
“I mean, perty obvious you are, but to me yer just a guy lookin for a job, doesn’t make any difference if yer a skeleton or not. I’m hirin’ based on how well you’d get on with m’ kin, not yer past or the way you look!” Billy sputters.
The man gestures at himself, “Mean, look at me! Perty dumb lookin fellar, right? But you’ll get to know me and realise there ain’t no difference between me n’ one-a them top scientists. I’m a reaal smart guy.”
Within quiet anti-monster communities, denial of difference became a massive weapon used against the progress of monsterkind. Humans are terribly invested in their own innocence that they refuse to acknowledge their own cause in the problem. At least the overt racists are easy to recognise.
“whatever.” Sans huffed, avoiding eye contact. “you humans just don’t get it. ‘m not tryna be an asshole.”
This wasn’t how he wanted the interview to pan out. He got the job, but now it’s probably been ripped away from him because of his undisguised hatred for humankind. That’s just how the cookie crumbled, he supposed.
“just that - s’been rough tryna get a job round here when yer a monster. no monster wants to take me, no human wants to take me.” A sneer snakes across his skull, “at least they don’t, until they realise they could make a profit offa my fuckin’ looks.”
Billy went quiet, most likely not knowing what to say at the proclamation. It was true that monsters with the same qualifications and experience as humans were less likely to receive a callback. There was no denying it, there are constant affirmative actions occurring that set back monsterkind rather than push forward.
To deny such a thing would admit ignorance, but at the same time, Billy didn’t know any other monsters, he couldn’t relate to the experience or bring proper support. He didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say much at all.
“You’ll get along fine with the boss, they don’t care about horse-hockey like that, they’ll just be glad to have you round as an extra pair-a hands.”
Sans stayed silent, massaging his cranium with his clawed phalanges, thinking.
Billy speaks once more, “You reckon you’ll take it?”
He simply couldn’t say no – no matter how much he tried to think, this was the best possible opportunity he’d received thus far. Yeah, he’d be dealing with racial ignorance on a daily basis, most likely being asked if he had genitals way more than once, but at the very least the owner seemed to be decent. Billy wasn’t too bad either, even if he was a bit of an idiot.
His very own place, short working hours, decent pay. He didn’t even have to wake up early, he’d probably be sleeping most of the day and have his tab at Grillby’s be paid off in a jiffy. Sans was decided.
“yeah… thanks.”
Billy’s face lit up in excitement, the former morose expression immediately dissolved. Sans stood up alongside him as Billy shuffled through one of his many man-bags. Eventually, it seemed as if he found what he was looking for and held a wrinkled post it note out towards the skeleton.
“Here’s my landline! I ain’t got onea them new mobile phones, too confusin’ for me.” He chuckled, “Call up when ya wanna move and I’ll come help you get yer stuff with Sue.”
Sans suspected Sue was that roughed up truck he saw parked right out on the outskirts, and shook his hand around in mild horror, “y’aint gotta do that!”
“Can’t wait t’ have ya as part of the team, Sans! Was real good meetin ya!”
As Sans was reading to head out, Billy stuck his head out through the door once more with a wide, cheeky smile, “N’ for the record, if you get in trouble with the big boss, I ain’t gonna help ya.”
Travelling to the entrance, the sombre overcast allowed little to no light to escape through the formerly kaleidoscopic trees. Slowly, each lamp dotted through began to turn on, the breeze hefty, but also rather calming after such a nerve wrecking encounter.
He couldn’t wait to let Papyrus know the good news. Despite knowing that his little brother would be delighted to finally get the town slob out of his skull, Sans also hoped that perhaps Papyrus would be a little proud of him for such an achievement. Even if he almost royally fucked it up. That would be stupid, though.
“Oi, wait, want a ride home? Bus’ are a lot later now it’s past 6!”
Sans almost jumped out of his suit, his soul sinking to the bottom of his stomach. He turned, waving back at the human man before disappearing through the lights –
“‘m good. know a shortcut.”
– and into the darkness.
Just as Sans left, another individual awoke, readying themselves for a new day; You couldn’t help but wonder if anyone got the job.