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It's a wonderfully cheerful night. Snow has piled up over the last few days. People's yards are teeming with snowmen and snow-monsters and snow angels. The streets have to be plowed regularly in order to keep society moving. The air is dreadfully cold. The kind of cold that bites you if you dare let any bit of skin go uncovered.
The city is aglow with thousands and thousands of lights. Businesses, homes, and even the streets are lined with holiday cheer of all kinds. Wreaths, tinsel, you name it and it’s there.
It's the first Christmas for monsters. They had a similar holiday Underground, and though the origins of the holidays are worlds apart, the celebration aspect was similar enough that everyone was able to meld the two holidays pretty seamlessly.
The dreemurrs were quick to hop on the ball.
The King and Queen have a large home near the base of Mt.Ebott and have pulled out all the stops for a great big party. Every monster is invited, as well as any humans who want to attend (after some thorough security checks of course,).
The entire place is decked out and the party bleeds out into the massive yard. Humans and Monsters are everywhere, dressed in either their best holiday gear or the absolutely most horrendous getup you've ever seen.
Sans... would be the latter.
He found the ugliest sweater he could get his hands on and he wears it with pride. A gaudy thing in an offensive shade of green with a cartoon bone pattern. There's way too much silver tinsel around the cuffs of the sleeves and outlining the bones. The worst(best) part are the words ‘femur-rry Christmas’ stamps across the chest in big bold letters. With blinking lights.
“THAT DOESN'T EVEN MAKE ANY SENSE!” Papyrus had groused in horrified astonishment.
That's what makes it funny.
Truthfully, Sans isn't a party type of guy. He's good at being social and being entertaining, but parties? Ehh, not really his thing. They last too long and he'd rather be at home doing nothing.
The looks he's getting makes it worth it, though.
The party is in full swing by now. The merry music is drowned out by all of the chatter and Sans finds himself wandering through the crowd until he reaches the kitchen. It, too, is full of people. And food. And drunk people.
There’s the remains of what used to be a big gingerbread house sitting on a silver platter in the middle of the dining table. Now it’s mostly crumbs, completely devoured apart from a few gumdrops. He saw that thing when Tori and Frisk were making it. It was huge. Good thing that’s not his destination.
He walks past the destroyed gingerbread and stops in front of a large punch bowl being guarded by Ice Wolf. Yeah, don’t need the kids getting their hands on this stuff. He pours himself a healthy amount and waves at the larger monster before he heads over to a more secluded table in the corner. He needs a little break from all of the noise.
Time ticks idly by as Sans sips at his punch by himself, but he’s perfectly content. So content, in fact, that he’d almost fallen asleep when someone sits in the chair beside him. His droopy sockets go back to normal with a blink and his pinpricks settle on the human who decided to keep him company.
“oh, hey ___,”
“Hi Sans.”
Well that’s a pleasant surprise. Sans doesn’t get along with very many humans. It isn’t that he doesn’t like them, but it’s hard to find ones that are trustworthy. ___ is good people though. Probably one of his favorite’s… actually, as much as he loves Frisk, the kid is still making up for a lot of bullshit. So yeah, ___ is his favorite human.
“I’ve been looking all over for you!” You exclaim to the skeleton, hands resting on the table with a soft smile on your face. He likes that smile, and he can’t help but mirror it with his own.
“have you?” Sans absentmindedly scratches at his cheekbones. The lights in his eyes get a bit wider. “why?”
You set your own cup down on the table and lean back in your seat, looking frazzled but happy.
“Stars, I appreciate Toriel inviting me, but I don't even know half of these people. Everyone else is busy, but… I figured you'd find somewhere to nap.” Your smile turns smug. “I was right.”
Sans chuckles and runs a hand over his skull. Okay, you got him there. You aren't finished though, and what you say next has his cheeks turning a pale shade of blue.
“Though, mostly I just wanted to see you. It's Christmas. Er, slash Gyftmas… I just wanted to see my best friend.”
You reach over and gently nudge his shoulder, and Sans isn't sure if he's happy to hear he's your best friend or if he should be disappointed that he essentially just got friend zoned.
“aww shucks, kid. You’re gonna make me blush.”
There’s that smile he lo- likes so much again.
“You already are!”
And he can’t help but return it with a wave of his hand.
“shut up.”
A comfortable silence settles over the two of you. The party goes on around you as the both of you go about just enjoying your drinks, and Sans can’t stop himself from glancing at you now and then. He isn’t quite sure when it was you managed to win his soul over. He never saw himself coming to care about someone romantically. He has too much trauma, too much baggage. Too much fear that this timeline could be gone in an instant despite the kids' promise. And yet, here you are, a pesky human who he considers family.
Papyrus likes you. Everyone he cares about likes you. His phalanges drum along the table, a nervous habit he picked up when he was younger. Maybe he should… say something. After all, what does he have to lose? If this timeline does stick like Frisk swore it will, then all he’s doing is wasting time by waiting.
Sans’ jaw tenses as he gathers the courage to say something, but you speak first.
“Sans, that is the ugliest sweater I’ve ever seen.”
The skeleton blinks owlishly and looks down at himself. Well, there goes his confidence. He feels himself deflate like a balloon and covers it with a well practiced chuckle and a shrug of his shoulders.
“heh, thanks. found out humans have a thing for ugly christmas sweaters and had to go all in.”
“If there was a contest, you would win.”
“... there are contests ?”
Your laughter makes him feel a little better, even as he kicks himself for losing his nerve so quickly.
-
This is just sad.
Papyrus’ sockets narrow at the scene unfolding before him. He knows his brother is lazy, but for goodness sake, this is ridiculous. He oughta go shake some sense into his older brother, but that wouldn’t be very subtle. However, Papyrus knows he has to do something , otherwise you two are just going to keep dancing around each other and getting nothing done.
His partner in crime, Frisk, pulls on his pant leg with a determined expression. The child had been gathering information in secret, playing spy with you and Sans over the months in order to get the juicy details of your feelings for one another. While neither of you were ever directly up front with the answers… Frisk can read body language. And that's all they needed.
So that means that they and Papyrus can put plan B into action without issue.
Frisk gives Papyrus a two fingered salute, and the tall skeleton nods sagely in response. Operation Matchmaker is a-go.
-
You cover your mouth to stop yourself from snorting and Sans is living for it.
“Stoooop. Those jokes aren't even good, come on. I know you have better than th-”
Something slams into the table. Wait, no, someone. It makes you jump, and when you move to peer around the side a thick head of brown hair pops up over the surface. Good thing the table is so sturdy. Otherwise, drinks would have been lost. The tan child is pouting, their squinted eyes trained intently on Sans. The skeleton in question sweats at the intensity of that determined stare and his eyelights shrink into pinpricks.
“hey, kiddo… uh… what’s up?” No response. Then they raise their hands and signing so fast it's impossible to interpret what they’re trying to say. You reach out and grab their small hands with your eyebrows furrowed in concern.
“Hey, woah, woah. Calm down, Frisk. Where's the fire?” Releasing their hands doesn’t yield you any helpful results. They just go right back into their signing frenzy, not giving you or Sans time to figure out what they’re trying so hard to tell you. Luckily, with both of your attention on them, neither of you notice the lanky frame of Sans’ brother sneaking up behind you.
“THERE IS NO FIRE!” Papyrus exclaims. The sudden bellow makes you look up in shock. Where on earth did he come from? “FRISK MERELY THINKS SOMETHING AT THIS PARTY IS… MISSING.”
Sans narrows his eyes up at his brother. Papyrus coming into a room quietly is suspicious. You could argue that in such a crowded house he was simply drowned out, but Sans wouldn’t buy it. A voice like Paps’ carries.
“missing, huh?” the older brother prods with a raised brow-bone. “what’s missing?”
“ROMANCE!”
….
“What.”
Sans doesn’t like the look on his brother's face.
“LOOK CLOSELY AT MY SWEATER!”
Two sets of eyes dart down, the magical pair shrinking in their sockets even more. Oh, these clever little shits. Sans can’t help the flat look on his face as he stares at the decorative mistletoe hanging off of the chest of Paps’ sweater. He doesn’t know how he didn't notice it sooner considering his observance of little details. Both his brother and the kid look incredibly smug, and when his eyes drift over to you, your cheeks are bright red.
This… was a setup.
“paps,” Sans mutters in absolute betrayal. “how could you?”
“YOU WERE STALLING!”
“ pap. ”
“I THINK THIS IS THE PART WHERE YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO SMOOCH!”
“pap, I don't think-”
Sans is cut off when you lean forward and press your lips to his teeth. It’s a quick little peck that barely lasts three seconds, but it has the desired effect. You lean back into your chair with hot cheeks and averted eyes, meanwhile Sans is bright blue and sweating like he just ran a marathon. It’s very difficult to hide how his eyelights expand more the longer they remain trained on your face.
In the background, Papyrus and Frisk cheer and high five each other.