Chapter Text
The night is long, filled with a sort of immeasurable silence that’s only broken by the music coming from your headphones. You’d been recently going on a YouTube binge, adding things to your playlist and listening to it over and over, the songs ever on shuffle so the experience was never the same twice. Other than that, though, nothing seems to be on the agenda. And by that, you mean literally nothing. Your college paper is finished, and the internet has mostly lost its illustrious appeal, as it tends to do at this time of the –
You have to glance at the window to discern what time of the day it is. Through your mostly drawn blinds, you see nothing but an inky blackness, with reflections from the office in it. That seems to indicate that it’s ass in the evening, but you never know. Winter is a strange time of year, and holds magical properties that make everything you ever know completely and utterly wrong.
This is only exacerbated by your evening classes, the sky dark before you even start. A glance at the corner of your screen indicates a time of nearly midnight. Something you probably should have checked before looking out the window. Suddenly you grow restless – it’s Saturday and you haven’t left the house once yet. You don’t even recall eating, except for that piece of leftover pizza you’d snagged out of the fridge earlier in the day. Sure, you deserved a break after all your hard work in classes, but this was taking it a smidgen too far, wasn’t it?
You push back your chair and stand, stretching out as tall as you could, fingers reaching toward the speckled, textured ceiling. Your spine pops, and you offer a slight grimace at the feeling before twisting and trying to get it crack again. It doesn’t feel good when you do it, but it certainly helps relieve the tension building up in your body from not doing anything. There was a lot of undeserved humor in that bit of irony.
Walking to your room, you cast a weary glance at the clothes spread out over the floor, debating whether or not you should do laundry before you leave, or after you get home. Or even if that’s a thing you’ll get done within the next century or two. It’s not even that much, either, it’s just kind of there. The vast majority of your clothing is clean, the most-worn things in your hamper, and the rest just sort of chilling in your dresser for whenever it is you happen to wear it. You mentally go over your wardrobe and decide that you don’t feel like wearing any of it out into the world right now. So instead of changing out of your sweats and t-shirt, you decide the absolute best thing you could do for your level of comfort while walking would be to put on your dragon onesie. Because let’s face it, who walks around outside at this time of night to even see it? And the ambient air temperature, while hovering somewhere just above freezing, wouldn’t be enough to penetrate your two layers of fuzz and warmth.
Tugging some socks on, you then tug on the loose onesie over top of your clothes, sighing when you have to fix the clothing that’s bunched up underneath it. When you’ve accomplished the task at hand, you grab your phone, wallet, and keys, stuffing them into your pockets. Heading into the bathroom, you give yourself a look over in the mirror, fixing up your hair and pulling on the hood before giving a shrug. You look decent enough to consider going out into the world in the middle of the night, and that’s good enough for you.
You go to put on your shoes, and leave the apartment you’ve managed to procure for yourself, closing and locking the door, and then double checking the handle. You’re turning to leave when you hear a door down the hall open, and haphazard a glance in that direction. It’s rare that anyone else is awake this early. The tension from the unknown leaves, comes back, and then leaves again in brief waves when you notice who it is. It’s just one of the skeleton brothers - Sans. You think you’d stay tense if it was any other monster, but from the brief times you’ve chatted, you’ve surmised that he’s a pretty decent dude.
There was still some ingrained racism toward monsters that society held that you kept reminding yourself to shake. Most of it was unfounded anyway, it was just that their presence was still new, and new things just needed to gotten used to, especially big changes that altered the entire fabric of humanity’s perceptions.
He turns to you, and the two of you share a glance, not quite knowing what to say at first. You watch idly as his expression seems to shift, and he eyes you up and down. You do the same with him, and eventually he seems to relax, the corner of his ever-present grin shifting up even further.
“*careful not to set off the smoke detectors, you fire hazard,” he says simply, looking quite pleased himself for the joke. For a second you wonder exactly why he’d say something like that, but a quick glance at yourself shows that oh, right, the onesie. You crack a grin at the comment, giving a shrug.
“I’ll try not to hoard all the attention when they do,” you manage after a moment, struggling to piece together a joke in response. He seems to appreciate the effort if nothing else, giving a soft chuckle. Judging by the fact that he’s wearing slippers, he seems to be in the same boat in terms of a late-night stroll, so you decide to ask about it. “Where’re you off to?”
Sans seems to consider your question for a moment, before giving a shrug. You get the sense that he’s trying to suss up whether or not it’s a good idea to give you information in the first place. As laid back as you get the impression that he is, he also seems fairly guarded. You don’t blame him – tensions have arisen just about everywhere, and as laid back as you yourself were, it was still remarkably disconcerting to stare straight into the face of someone that’s the very depiction of human death.
“*i’ll give you an answer when i figure that out myself,” he says, and you figure that’s a respectable answer. You don’t even know where you’re going yourself. “*how about you? you seem like you’re about ready to turn tail and fly right out of here.”
Okay, that one got you. Giving a bit of a laugh yourself, you tell him, “Nah, not really. I’m just gonna take a walk. Maybe grab a coffee or something from that twenty-four hour place down the road. Maybe chill at the park if it’s not completely clouded over. Steal some princesses, eat a cow. It’s all up in the air right now.”
Sans’ grin seems to have reached where his ears would have been, if that’s possible at all. You don’t entirely know how, considering he’s a skeleton, and skeletons shouldn’t be able to – Wait. Did his brow bone just raise? You decide that yes, while monsters are weird, skeletons are just that much weirder. There’s something unsettling about how expressive Sans is. It’s getting into a bit of Uncanny Valley territory, if you’re honest.
“*tibia honest,” oh god, now he’s making jokes about his skeletal nature. Where the fuck is a tibia, even? You’ll have to brush up on your anatomy to really get the most out of your chance meetings with him. “*i don’t think i’d mind joining you for your adventures. if you don’t mind me tagging along that is. it’ll get me some leeway when pap hears i actually went somewhere.” He reaches up and rubs the vertebrae in his neck, as though scratching, or possibly in some sheepish fashion. It makes a sound that’s slightly unsettling; something akin to a click and a slightly more prominent tock of a hollower thud from his phalanges moving over them. You try very hard not to cringe.
“*but if you’d rather i not join you, that’s cool, too. i’m sure you could scare just about anyone off just fine on your own.”
“No,” you say, and the suddenness of the word, while not exclaimed or anything, is still enough to cause you pause. “I mean, no, it’s fine. You can come with me if you want to. I don’t see why not.” You really don’t, either. While immensely unsettling, Sans seems harmless enough, and if he really wants to come with, it’s his own prerogative. Who knows, it might be kind of fun. “Between the two of us, we’ll be able to take on just about any knights we come across.”
For a moment, you swear the lights in his eyes become much dimmer, grin becoming a tad more unsettling, but it passes so quickly that you have to blink and wonder if you’d even seen it at all. It’s late, and your eyes are probably playing tricks on you. Probably more of that uncalled for prejudice. Even so, you can’t shake the almost imperceptible shiver that travels down your spine, skin pricking in the middle of your back. It gets a little worse when he says the following,
“*trust me, kid. If anyone tries, they’re going to have a b a d t i m e.” After a brief flicker, he seems to notice just how uncomfortable you look, and gives a grin and a laugh that has you letting out a small, relieved breath. “*sorry, didn’t mean to rattle your bones. i’m just messin’ around. come on, let’s get out of here. the hallway is almost stuffier than my bedroom.”
“Tell me about it,” you offer in vague agreement, hoping you’ll remember to open your window a crack later before crawling into bed. Sans walks past you at a leisurely pace, and you note the almost shuffle of a pace and the slight droop to his shoulders. It’s not your place to ask about it, or even to wonder, you surmise, as Sans is still practically a stranger. You know his brother a little better than you do him. It’s… kind of difficult not to know Papyrus, really. He just tends to… assert himself. His sweet, gentle nature has helped the building acclimatize to the newer residents, though, which was a huge relief.
You follow behind the shorter male as he heads to the elevator, and your thoughts drift – not for the first time – to why the hell you agreed to let him come on your little excursion in the first place. Settling against the wall, hands in your pockets, you cast him a glance, scrutinizing, that lasts almost the entire way to the first floor. He catches you near the end, though, and you glance away, realizing you’re being rude, but notice you’re getting a similar treatment afterward. It’s as though neither of you really know what to make of the other, which is fine enough. The two of you will likely figure it out by the time you get back from… wherever it is you’re going.
Speaking of:
“Where the fuck are we going?” You question once you’ve paused in the middle of the lobby, face scrunched up slightly. If you were by yourself, you’d just wing it – ‘oh for fuck’s sake’ – but in the presence of company, you find yourself hesitating. You don’t wanna bore the both of you to death, or make it awkward. Sans shifts, turning to look at you over his shoulder. For a moment you admire the way his neck curves, and the profile of his face. You wonder idly if the inside of your body is nearly as interesting, but decide that it probably isn’t and move on from the thought. He seems to be unreadable for several moments, but then the way his expression seems to soften, he seems less guarded and more tired.
“*i thought i was promised potential princess-napping,” he says, voice full of mock disappointment and enough expressiveness to make you think twice about an alternative reason for his exhaustion. It is after midnight, and not everyone is as well versed in the evening shift as you are. “*but i’ll be just as okay with a coffee and a trip to the park, like you offered before.”
That makes you feel a little better – warmer, almost; a feeling similar to relief slowly spreading through you. Knowing that the two of you have a plan fills you with determination, and Sans must have noticed the shift in your expression, because he offers a little ‘heh’ of amusement, beckoning for you to start walking with him again. Determined to make a better impression than you have been, you duck in front of him to open the door for him, and the gesture is well-received. Having him that close to you is almost amusing, because he only comes up to your nose, seems like.
The walk is relatively pleasant, if you’re completely honest with yourself. The two of you are mostly in your own worlds, but occasionally find the time to crack a joke or make a comment without grating on each other’s nerves. It’s a tentative symbiosis, one that you’ll get more used to over time, you think. Your mom always did tell you it was a good idea to maintain at least a first-name basis sort of relationship with your neighbors for the safety of yourself and the neighborhood itself. And this guy? He seems like a dude you wouldn’t mind chilling with again. Nothing wrong with making a new… friend?
You go to head towards Starbucks because it’s your default, the two of you heading inside to grab a couple drinks. You have no idea how many times you’ve thanked your lucky stars that you managed to snag an apartment near a 24 hour coffee shop regardless of what the name of said establishment was. It’s gotten you through many a long night and then some. Sans almost seems overwhelmed at first, as though not knowing what to get, but defaults to a cheesy “*i’ll have what they’re having” that causes you to snort in some sort of mixture between amusement and affection. What a loser.
Once the two of you are back outside, your drinks lovingly adorned with the names Sans and Serif – which you thought was positively hilarious – you notice that the air around your new bud-pal-chum-friend-amigo was crackling with energy. You glance over, and you can see a glow, his eye blinking between blue and yellow intermittently. Blowing through the lid of the coffee cup, he then takes a sip, eyes closing entirely. When they re-open, he seems back to normal. Was that magic? He seems to notice you staring, and he offers a wry smile.
“*had to give it a little kick that the espresso couldn’t,” he explains. “*it’s a little odd, y’know? humans can consume monster food, but a lot of us can’t seem to return the favor. like me? love the stuff, but it just goes right through me.”
“So,” you offer after a moment, testing the water. “If it’s charged with magic, it’s okay? Does that work with everyone? I mean, if it’s as simple as doing that, then, couldn’t you go anywhere and eat?” Maybe it’s a little insensitive to ask, but Sans doesn’t seem to mind too much. He just takes another sip before answering you, being very careful not to get any of it on himself.
“*nah. just me that i know of. at least in the sense that i can charge up stuff that’s already been made. pap has to spice up the cooking process itself. my friends, too. i mean, unless i’m there to fix it up for them, but it takes a lot of energy to do stuff like this normally. but i’m feelin’ a little… energetic tonight. and besides, it’s just a coffee.” He reaches up, scratching at the back of his skull before pulling his hood over his head. “*it’s a lot different when you got at least six orders at a restaurant.”
“You should have mentioned something. We could have grabbed something at my place before leaving. Or gone a bit farther to –“
“*don’t worry about it, kid. but i appreciate you tryin’ to keep an eye socket out for me.” He grins behind the mouth of his drink, and you can’t help but think that he’s a lot more pleasant than you had when you’d first run into him in the hallway. Or even the first time that you’d met him at all. That’d been an incredibly tense elevator ride.
The two of you are now at the gaping maw that is the entrance to the park. You feel yourself grinning widely at the sight, even if ordinarily it wouldn’t be considered normal to grin at an abandoned playground in the middle of the night. Tonight, though, the moon is full, and the sky is casting a silvery glow over the equipment, and there are more stars than you remember seeing in quite some time. Maybe it’s just the first time you’ve paid attention in a while. Your gaze settles on Orion, and you point out the constellation to your companion, who squints for a moment while trying to make out what it is you’re seeing.
As soon as he gets it, though, you jerk your head toward the park, motioning toward it with a hand and setting the pace at a light jog. Sans stiffens beside you, watching you run off, long tail and tiny wings bobbing amusingly behind you. You’re clearly far more enthused about the prospect of hanging out at a park than he is, trying not to spill your coffee out of the top of the cup on the way. You mostly manage it, and settle down onto one of the swings, fiddling with your onesie a little bit until you’re comfortable enough.
You start slowly swinging, just rocking back and forth rather than picking up momentum, and you tug on the chain of the swing next to you, as though trying to wordlessly tell him to join you. Shaking his head, he settles down on the bench closest to you, just watching. Taking a drink of your coffee, you set it down to the side where it won’t be knocked over and start swinging a little more in earnest this time, head tipped back to watch the stars shift and twinkle from your ever-changing perspective.
“Hey, Sans?” Your voice comes out a little louder than you intend it to, sound travelling through the empty space easily due to a lack of ambient noise. He hums out a response that you barely catch, but you’re positive it was an affirmative for you to complete whatever train of thought it was that you had.
“You’re a pretty cool guy,” you tell him, offering up a puff of warm breath that disperses into the air around you in a trail of smoky vapor. “Thanks for coming out with me.”
He gets up off of his spot, slowly walking over to the swings and setting his cup of coffee down opposite of yours, before having some trouble getting up into the swing. It got a little twisted and caught his finger, and though hissing, he manages to get into it with a huff. Watching you, he starts moving slowly forward and back like you’d been doing earlier, leaning over to grab his drink and nurse it while he moves. “*well, like i said. i had a little bit of extra energy, so why not.”
There’s a strange quality about the words, and he tips his head back to watch the stars, expression softening some. You knew some of the history of monsters through passing conversation and the news. You can’t imagine the novelty of the night sky as seen by someone who was still so new to the experience. You slow the momentum of your swing until you’re nearly in sync with Sans, the two of you just chilling and watching the stars.
“Are you alright?” Your tone is hesitant, like you don’t know what sort of boundary you might be crossing by asking that, but his reaction isn’t to lash out – it’s to simply sigh, a hand raising to pinch his nasal bone between a thumb and forefinger. You immediately regret asking, and open your mouth to apologize, but he cuts you off.
“*you ever just have one of those nights? yeah, well, it’s one of those.”
You have absolutely no idea what to say to this near-stranger to make him feel better, and there’s an almost uncomfortably pregnant pause before you blurt out, “I think you mean one of nose.”
His head snaps over to look at you, and you’re grimacing and covering your face with a hand, body turned away from him because what the absolute fuck was that? You just met someone, you’re disrespectful, and you’re not even all that funny. Or at least, you didn't think so. There’s a small noise, and then a soft choking sound, and then it tumbles into a fucking guffaw, and you nearly jump out of your skin when you hear it, twisting to happen a glance at the skeleton next to you who’s clearly fucking losing it over the worst joke anyone has ever made.
The tension you’d only vaguely noticed earlier has completely melted off of him as he sits vibrating and doubled over in the swing next to you. There’s a small thought surrounding how long he’d been carrying that weight around, and just how badly he’d needed to laugh. Actually laugh. Phalanges reach up to wipe at the tears forming in the corners of his sockets, and once you’ve gotten over yourself, your horror, and your confusion, you find that his laugh is rather infectious. And while you’re not laughing nearly as much or as hard as Sans is, you find that you’re still feeling a hell of a lot better than you were. It slowly dies down, though, and his expression has softened even further, grin wider as he looks up at the stars again.
“*i guess i really needed that. thanks.”
“You know,” you offer, a little awkwardly, reaching over to grab your coffee so you don’t have to look him in the face while talking to him. It takes you a little longer than it should have because of this. “You’re really expressive. I – I mean, I guess I wasn’t expecting it. Whenever I saw you, you were always smiling. I just figured that you were…”
“*stuck like this?” He finishes for you, and you sit up, nursing your drink and giving a shrug. He sounds a lot less awkward than you feel. He’s probably had this conversation before. “*nah. just because humans have strange anatomy, doesn’t mean that i do. unless you’re referring to how different me and and my brother are, in which case, don’t worry. i don’t have a bone to pick with you.”
You smile into your cup, but then it sort of falls. “That sounded a lot less forced than it did earlier. I didn’t even really notice then. I guess you really did have a shitty night. I can relate – sometimes I have some god awful nights. I just hope this helped a little bit? I don’t know. To be honest, I didn’t really know what to make of you at first, but you’ve really grown on me. You’re a really cool dude, Sans.”
You glance over at him, and notice that he’s turned his head toward you, expression a little intense. It causes you to feel a little more uncomfortable than you already did. After a few moments of this, you go to open your mouth to apologize, but he shakes his head. “*thanks, kid. i –“ He pauses, as though struggling for words, his indecision oddly clear to you.
During the pause he takes another sip of his drink, spilling some. He makes this semi-adorable not-quite curse, reaching up and wiping his mouth with his sleeve. You can’t help but chuckle at him, motioning at a spot he’d missed. He offers a embarrassed look, cheeks lightly dusted with blue. You assume you’re imagining things.
“*guess i’m a real bonehead, huh?”
“Nah, you’re fine,” you reassure him, offering a friendly, if awkward, pat on the arm. “Happens to me all the time. Takes one to know one and all that jazz.”
“*what are you, ten?” The comment is made with good, humerus intentions. Also, wow, you’re on a roll. You’ve made more jokes in the last hour and a bit than you have in the last year. Well. Definitely more puns than you have in the last year. You wonder where all this nonsense and tomfoolery is coming from. You wonder about a lot of things, but decide it’s best not to think about it. It’s probably Sans. He’s a walking pun magnet.
That's your story and you're sticking to it.
“Give or take a decade,” you offer, shrugging. "If nothing else, I’m definitely turning ten next year, I swear. But maybe you just bring out the worst in me. I don’t think I can remember the last time I’ve made someone laugh this much.”
Sans gives you an appreciative once-over, before managing a faux-cocky, “*who says it’s not the best in you, then? you can’t argue with results.”
Oh. Haha. Cocky. “Don’t you get coccyx with me, man.” That set him in another fit of mild hysterics, and you can’t help but grin widely. You really don’t know why you were so wary of this guy. Someone who sincerely laughs at bad jokes has an integrity that you can’t deny. Yeah. You decide that you definitely like this guy. He’ll make a pretty swell pal.
“I’ve decided that I like you. I mean, sure, there are some things that I don’t get about you, but in some ways I can see right through you.” Oh. That one was completely unintentional, but it was a nice throwback to his earlier comment. He snorts in a most unattractive way from his spot next to you, and that gets you laughing, yourself. “But really? I think you’d make a good friend.”
“*depends who’s askin’.”
“What if it’s me?”
“*then you and me? we’re gonna get along just fine, kid.”