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Sans woke up in a room that he was all too familiar with.
No, it wasn’t his bedroom or his brother’s, nor the living room where he so very often would slack off on the couch, the sound of pots and pans clanking and clattering emitting from the kitchen were his little brother supposedly would be cooking his “great and famous” spaghetti. Right now, he wasn’t even near the apartment that the two of them shared and called their humble home.
No. Right now, Sans was in a familiar room that was far away from the safety of comfortability and unconditional brotherly love, served with the teasing but caring nagging from his little bro.
He was at the police station. Or more specifically, he was in the interrogation room, lying on the floor half-naked with only his white and wrinkled shirt to cover his bare bones. His hands were cuffed on his back and there where bloodstains both on the wooden floor and his shirt, dry blood trailing down his chin to the stains on his chest.
Slowly as he took in the situation he just woke up to, he starts feeling this weird and uncomfortable pain prickling down in his “private parts” as the humans formally liked to call it. When he tried to look down to see where the pain was coming from, it slowly clicked in his mind what had happened in resent events before he had blacked out completely, as he finally managed to see the source of what caused his extreme discomfort.
Oh, right… That had happened.
As he looked down on the ridiculous display of (what skeletons at least would call) unpleasantness, itching to be freed from the small objects jutting in and out of him, Sans sequentially recalled what had led up to this course of events and frowned in distaste at the memories as they came back to him.
He had been brought to the police station by those cops for doing some kind of prank on them, which he didn’t care to remember what it was or how it happened. After all, all he had to do and care about was to keep them annoyed, but interested enough to cause him harm whenever the gang needed him as a distracter, keeping the cops’ occupied as a punching-bag while his friends took care of their business. He remember the cops bringing him inside the interrogation room, those disgustingly familiar faces that just loved to bring their favorite prey back to the predators nest over and over, relishing the moments of pure ecstasy and sadistic joy from the control and power that they possessed when it was time for the little skeleton’s regular punishment.
He remember being beaten and kicked down on the floor, strong legs and clamped fists hitting him in the face, his chest, his spine, head, everywhere. This wasn’t anything new though, he was used to this. That’s one of the few advantages of being in a gang where you had to commit crimes of all kinds, fighting off both humans and monsters for the sake of you and your gang’s survival. Getting beaten up now and then was pretty normal by gangsters’ standards, no matter how painful or severe the situation could get. After a while of commitment, one got used to the pain, at least physically. This was something Sans and many others already had accepted a long time ago; there wasn’t really any question about it. That’s just how their reality was and would continue to be for a long, long time. So as he would say, no ‘skullking’ about it. That was just spending unnecessary energy over things they couldn’t change.
Getting off-tracked, the skeleton remembered being hit repeatedly with a baton to the face, then getting his head bashed onto the floor from their kicks (which explains the dull headache he was having at the moment) and then they had stuffed his mouth with a handkerchief and…
Oh yeah, one of the cops had straddled him from behind and almost snapped his left radius and ulna in half… great, another bothersome injury to take care of.
Though, that wasn’t really the most troublesome thing to sulk about at the moment. He’s had worse…
A lot worse…
The beating had stopped there though, Sans remembers, only a kick to the tailbone to seal the deal, until one of the cops had stripped of his pants and instead got a little frisky with the touching and prodding. Not that he gave a damn about whether his body was on display or not, after all, he’s literally a skeleton, he got nothing to hide or be modest about when it came to his bodily exterior.
Expect for the fact that skeleton monsters also had sensitive zones on their bodies, such as the pelvis area…
That’s when the situation started to get really uncomfortable yet again. But ‘tibia’ honest, he should have gotten used to this kind of violation too by now. In consideration of what they usually did to him when they got a lot of time on their hands, or rather forced him to do, a little prodding here and there should have been more ‘pleadable’ to him than being forced to su—
…………
Nope. He did not want to remember those moments right now, or ever.
Again, Sans recalled the moment after they stripped his pants off were one of those bastards reached into their pockets to fish out a big amount of pencils in different sizes. He remembered how they started filling the holes in his sacrum with pencil after pencil after pencil to the brim, making sure that they were firmly stuck into the skeleton so they wouldn’t fall out on their own accord. Man, had that moment been uncomfortably painful and admittedly, slightly embarrassing with how they acted afterwards, giving him those creepy and unnerving gazes and snickers at the display before them when they were finally done filling him up.
The physical pain wasn’t too bad though as long as he got to stay perfectly still, making sure to not put any unnecessary weight or movement to his lower parts. But Sans knew he wouldn’t be able to resort to that solution for long. Eventually the cops would be back to let him go and hopefully, they would at least give him enough time to take the pencils out of himself before going back home. With his hands cuffed and behind his back, it was impossible for him to reach them on his own. Realizing this dilemma, he also hoped that the cops wouldn’t take the responsibility of taking the pencils out for him instead. No doubt would they take advantage of the situation to try and humiliate him even further, making sure that the process would be agonizingly slow and painful.
He was definitely going to be sore as hell down there for the rest of the day after this was over.
The little skeleton was suddenly brought away from his musing when the door to his freedom finally opened, two of the cops from before heading straight towards him with small keys belonging to the handcuffs in one of their hands.
“Sup’ guys? Gonna’ help me out getting these off of me?” Sans asks the couple, shaking his right hand lazily to produce a jingling sound from the handcuffs for emphasizing. His left arm stings from the movement of the handcuffs, making Sans wince, having almost completely forgotten about his injury.
One of the cops rolls their eyes with a frustrated sigh while the other seems to be very amused by the odd display of a half-naked skeleton with pencils sticking out of their rear. Sans could care less about that, as long as he got freed from the handcuffs and the uncomfortable pain in his sacrum, he would leave this hellish place for the day and hopefully not run into them in a while, for the sake of not finally snapping from the pressure these guys were putting on him. He always had to be prepared for another visit to the police station filled with pain and humiliation if he was going to act as a distracting plaything for the gang’s sake. Hanging around with these guys however was starting to put its toll on him, making him feel shittier than usual ever since they started with their inappropriate touching and demands for...
‘That’… whelp, at least he hadn't been forced to do it this time… lucky him…
The cop who had rolled his eyes went forward to take the handcuffs off. Without giving any caution to Sans’ injured left arm, the cop locked them up and yanked them off the skeleton’s wrists with a hint of frustration in his movements, making Sans hiss a curse through his teeth in pain. The cop didn’t give a single care, obviously not in a good mood at the moment, and went to the corner of the room to find the rest of the skeletons clothes and shoes being scattered in a wrinkled, dirty mess.
The other cop who had found Sans’ situation amusing however just stood there at the doorframe, staring at the skeleton with scrutinizing eyes and a sinister smirk, making Sans feel even more uncomfortable than usual with how the cop’s look on him seemed to indicate more than just a boastful hunger for power over the weak. Sans ignored him as much as one could when someone like that guy constantly held their gaze on one’s naked body, like a predator waiting for the right moment to strike and snap their prey’s neck off, or worse…
‘the cop who had rolled his eyes’ guy came back with the heap of wrinkled clothing and slightly scratched shoes and shoved them into the skeleton’s arms, forcing Sans to hold all of his belongings on his right arm to prevent any pressure from leaning on his cracked, left arm. He was confused at first, because clearly, Sans was almost completely incapable of putting his clothes back on his own with not only having a severely injured arm (in which he was left-handed) but also a severely stuffed sacrum that made it almost unbearably painful for him to move his lower body around. He wouldn’t be able to put his pants back on without having to—
…………
Oh……
Really…?
……
Really…?!
Both of the cops looked at him questionably as they were obviously waiting for the skeleton to get dressed in his state of humiliating injury. Of course they knew how fucking hard and painful it would be for him to put his clothes back on his own, that’s what they were expecting! They might as well take advantage of the weak little skeleton while they still can until next time, right?
…Wait…
Were they actually going to force him to keep the pencils stuck inside of him and not let him take them out…?!
Really?! What the hell?!
The cops were really starting to get on his nerves, and that’s coming from a usually laidback skeleton who didn’t even have nerves.
Letting a frustrated sigh of his own seep through his clenched teeth, Sans seemed to have no other choice but to obey the unspoken order fleeting in the air between him and those bastards. He dropped his clothes and shoes on the floor expect for his pants, opting for putting those on first to at least cover the worst part of his humiliation, also wishfully thinking that maybe the creepy, staring cop would lose interest in keeping his intense glare on him if his body was hidden from sight.
With careful precaution for his left radius and ulna, the skeleton unfolded his wrinkled pants and tried lifting his left foot to the left hole in his pants. This process however was a lot more challenging than Sans had hoped, the pencils in his dorsal sacral foramina’s reminding him of the pain prickling and stinging him through his sacrum from the movement. His breath hitched at the extremely uncomfortable sensation, trying so very hard to muffle the shaky and pained whine from escaping his mouth as he so achingly slowly pulled his leg through the pants.
There, one down. Now, the right leg.
The same process repeated itself, ‘the cop who had rolled his eyes’ looking pretty annoyed at the skeleton’s slow pace of dressing himself and the other staring intently with a unnerving glint in his eyes at Sans’ movements as he finally managed to button up his pants correctly.
Good, the worst part had been taken care of, now for the sho—
………
Ah, crap…
He didn’t realize until now that putting on his shoes was pretty much impossible for him in this state. He would have to sit down or bend over in order to tie them, but that would just end up with him falling to the floor from the intense pain in his sacrum that would shoot through him like a lightning of pure agony from the action.
Whelp; guess he would have to go shoeless for now.
The cops continued to stare at him, one of them starting to look pretty pissed off from all the waiting and the other still staring intently at the small skeleton with a small smirk twitching into place, obviously noticing Sans’ small dilemma. Of course, they just continued standing there, waiting for him to finally finish and move along.
Leaving his shoes on the floor, Sans carefully put on his dirty vest and jacket, wincing and hitching his breath every now and then from the fabric of his clothes stroking his injured arm. He then began the painful journey of slowly and carefully bending down as little as possible to barely reach his shoes on the floor, letting out a pained, shaky breath as he finally managed to pick them up with his right hand and slowly retreat to his strait posture. Man, all that work and he already felt like he was sweating bullets from the lancinating pain, his breath deep and uneven and then, a sudden crippling dread at the thought of actually having to WALK in his state. Just the thought of walking outside with pencils sticking in and out of his ‘private parts’ and the painful humiliation that would follow was enough for him to wish that he’d gladly let the cops pull the pencils out of him instead before having to head out.
But of course, the cops waiting for him wouldn’t have any of that.
Distracting himself from the cops stares by causally dusting himself off, he began taking his first steps to hell as he slowly but steadily dragged his feet across the floor, forcing himself with all his being to just ignore the pain for now and inwardly telling himself that he would be okay, this was nothing, he could easily get home by just calling someone to pick him up and just act like everything is normal. Yeah, no biggie, he could do that. He does it almost all the time anyway, right? Acting like everything is just peachy? No problem! He was fine, really.
The cops obviously noticed the struggle Sans was going through, but as always, both of the cops either didn’t give a shit, or found some sick joy in seeing him in pain. Each step towards the door was almost agony, uncomfortable prickling sensations running through his pelvis and ebbing out to his femurs. God, why did it hurt so much for a skeleton to have their dorsal sacral foramina stuffed with random objects?! That didn’t even make any sense! But of course, in this case, the answer was always the same for those who tried to question a monsters’ biology; magic!
When he finally reached the door after what felt like ages gone by, the cops was obviously getting impatient with his slow pace and as so, came up with the genius idea of shoving him out through rough pushes to his back, emitting pained gasp, groans and muffled breathing through clenched teeth from the skeleton when he lost his footing and almost fell. God, could the situation get any worse for him right now?
Oh……oh yes, it could.
In the office department were he had to pass through in order to reach the exit, were a couple of booths were the secretary’s sat at and did all the numerous paperwork the cops would shove down their throats. Sans recognized some of the females sitting in their respective booths, one of them being the kind of person who for some odd reason would show him empathy by bringing him drinks and such whenever he was forced to spend the night at the station. She looked up from her work on the table and watched him and the cops as they continued shoving him mercilessly towards the exit. As per usual, she would give him that same genuine sympathetic look, lingering in the air for a moment until she finally went back to her own business, occasionally giving him concerned glances when she noticed the pained noises emitting from the small skeleton.
That wasn’t what made things worse for him at the moment however.
It was the other group of cops who were lingering in the background that made the situation even more tantalizing for him.
In one corner of the vast room stood a group of familiar faces, the people who always made time to come over to the interrogation room whenever there was ‘fun times’ with the skeleton monster. Sans recognized them clearly, all of them having participated in the act from a couple hours ago, and they were obviously very happy to see him walking in such a ridiculous manner and making those hilarious sounds of discomfort and pain. He unfortunately made eye contact with them when he heard them snicker in mockery, all of them piercing him with sadistic delight through their glaring eyes and twitching smirks plastered on their faces. They suddenly began making small gestures with their hands towards the couple behind him, giving them a thumbs up and genuine salutes as if they had just completed an important mission to be proud of. As if this whole situation had been some kind of war against monsterkind that the humans had just won, and the prize of glory for their participation was an abused and violated punching-bag to use however they wanted.
‘The cop who had rolled his eyes’ just gave them an acknowledging nod, not seeming to care about anything else but to get the monster crossed out of his list of responsibilities, while the other creepy one answered their subtle praise with similar enthusiastic gestures, looking way too proud and boastful over the fact that he had just watched the skeleton putting on his clothes with an intense and unnerving gaze that could only mean bad news to Sans.
Yep, his current situation could definitely only get worse and worse for him from there on. Just his luck…
As the cop couple and Sans made their agonizingly painful way towards the exit, every single step repeatedly reminding him of the stinging friction from the pencils scratching inside his pants, the trio was soon passing the corridor with a wall phone were he sometimes had to call for pick up when he got banged up too roughly for him to walk on his own, hanging just in reach for the small skeleton’s short arms.
Unfortunately, this was definitely one of those times were he really didn’t have any other choice but to make that call, the painful friction in his sacrum making it impossible for him to walk all the way home and also making it too hard to concentrate enough for him to shortcut back to his apartment.
He just hoped that Toriel wouldn’t take notice of his current struggles. He never wanted to have to explain to her, or anyone else for that matter, how THAT had happened…
“Whelp, I’m just gonna’ call someone to pick me up and then I’ll be out of your hair. So uh, see ya’ next week?” Sans said with his usual laidback demeanor, giving the two cops behind him a playful wink.
‘The cop who had rolled his eyes’ rolled his eyes once again, letting out a sigh of what seemed to be both out of frustration and relief as he eagerly turned around to leave, leaving the other cop in his company behind. Said creepy cop however stayed at his spot for a moment just staring at Sans, this time with an unreadable look on his face that seemed even more unnerving to the skeleton than the usual scrutinizing stares he would get from the cops. Seriously though, what was it with this guy and his weird facial expressions addressing the monster? He could understand the smug smiles and eyes filled with malicious inclination, but this kind of facial demeanor, eyes that suddenly looked genuinely disappointed in a caring way from the skeleton’s parting and that slightly crooked smile that didn’t quite match his presumed intentions was really starting to weird him out on a whole new level.
There was just something about the guy that made Sans almost feel vulnerable in his presence, something about the cop that was starting to make him look creepier and creepier every time Sans ended up in his line of vision.
This guy… had to be really bad news if they could make someone who was as usually unfazed as Sans, nervous.
After a short moment of their strange staring contest with each other, the cop finally turned away and strolled his way back to the other gang of cops joking around and about.
The skeleton heaved a sigh of relief, feeling more at ease now that he didn’t have those bastards hanging over him and pushing him around. However, he still had a lot of things left to worry about, specifically, a certain phone call that he really didn’t want to make. But what other choice did he have really? None, to be perfectly clear. He couldn’t walk his way home nor use his shortcuts in his current state of aggravating injury, so with a new sense of crippling dread hanging over him, he turned to the phone on the wall and began typing in Toriel’s phone number.
*click* *vvvrrrrr* the phone answered as the first number was punched in and rotated by the skeleton’s small index phalange.
Okay. C’mon, this was no trouble for him, no trouble at all. He just had to call Toriel like usual, reassure her that he was fine, as usual, and then ask her if she could pick him up with the car, as usual. Yeah, that’s it, no biggie. He’s done this a hundred times before, so what was he even worrying about?
… oh yeah, the fact that he was literally in so much frustrating pain from the pencils jutting in and out of his sacrum, that he was really starting to question himself if he actually could keep up the act for the exact amount of time necessary or not, of course…
*click* *vvvrrrrr*
Another number, another step towards momentarily freedom, No problem at all…
*click* *vvvrrrrr*
*click* *vvvrrrrr*
Wait…
Then it just dawned upon him.
Would he even be able to sit down properly on the car seat when Toriel finally came, or would his tailbone and sacrum just scream in agony from the pressure and, horrifyingly enough, maybe even start to dust?! Car seats were pretty lumpy and hard, right? How would he be able to even lower himself down without drawing obvious suspicion and worry from Toriel?!
Nope, no no, don’t let your nerves get to ya’, it’s gonna be fine! There’s no way that’s going to happen, he could handle it easily. He’s gone through a lot worse, right? This isn’t like those times were he’s gotten his bones cracked in half, not nearly as painful and agonizing at least. No worries. He’ll be able to lower his rear onto the lumpy seats without any trouble whatsoever, no problem. No problem at all. He would be fine…
More clicks and whirring sounds were produced from the phone, index phalange doing its purpose with slight hesitation as he finally reached the last number. Alright, here goes nothing.
*Click* *Vvvrrrrr*
Okay, no biggie. Just tell her to pick you up and reassure her of your very good well-being, and it’ll all go just peachy.
Right…
*Brrrrrrrrrr*
One signal…
*Brrrrrrrrrr*
Two signals…
*Brrrrrrrrrr*
Three—
“Hello, this is Toriel. How can I help you?” a sweetly familiar and elderly voice answered from the other side.
Here we go.
“Sup Tori, it’s Sans.” He answered causally, like everything that had just transpired had just been a long-gone forgotten dream. Or rather, an extremely uncomfortable nightmare.
“Oh Sans, hello! “What a pleasure to hear from you again, we haven’t been able to talk in a while. How are you doing?”
Man, it actually had been a while since last time they talked, Sans inwardly pondered. He wished that they both could’ve had more time to see each other more often, after all, who didn’t enjoy the company of such a sweet and ‘punny’ lady like her? He missed telling puns and jokes with someone who genuinely loved his sense of humor and witty brains, instead of him just using it as a cover to hide his well-being.
“I’m fine at the moment.” He answered, readying himself for the upcoming events that were to come. “But uh, sorry in advance if this will cause ya’ any trouble but, I’m at the police station right now, again…”
A small gasp could be heard from the other side of the phone line.
“Oh gosh, did those people hurt you again? Are you sure you’re alright? No severe injuries anywhere?” the goat monster answered worriedly, her voice laced with genuine concern over the skeleton’s current condition.
Sans couldn’t help but find the woman’s passionate caring nature over someone as shitty and lazy as him both positively endearing, but also sadly kind of bothersome. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate the help she offered him; the skeleton more than well felt that he definitely owed the lady his life for that single reason. But putting all that effort into someone like him, someone who didn’t really deserve that kind of caring treatment and concerned love for another wasn’t really worth it in the end. He wished that he could tell her that. Tell her to put all that strength in being supportive to people who actually needed it, to someone who really deserved it. But how concealing would THAT be over his own fucked upped problems if he told her that? No doubt, she would find out if he did. He couldn’t let that happen, not ever…
“Nah, don’t worry Tori, I’m fine. Really. I just need a little help with getting home as all. ‘Tibia’ honest, walking doesn’t really seem to be the best option for me right now.”
If she asks, just tell her that you broke your hip or something, that’s all.
“You can’t walk? Sans, are you really sure you’re alright?” she answered with concern once again, either not noticing the pun he subtly told or ignoring it altogether.
“Yeah, I’m sure. I’ll be fine, as long as I can get a ride home if that’s alright?” currently, he was really hating having their first call in a while to be about getting picked up from his usual beating by the cops. He always felt bad about those few times in his current lifestyle when he didn’t have any other choice but to call for help, instead of just walking and shortcutting his way home.
“Oh Sans, I would be very happy to help! But… gosh, I have definitely bitten off more than I can chew right now. You see, Asgore just called me about something very important before you called, and he was very serious about talking to me in person. So I made an appointment to meet him in half an hour and I have to drop Frisk off at Alphys’ place before I go to his place and—“
“Whoa there, slow down. It’s alright T, I understand. Don’t wanna make good ‘old fluffybuns grumpy from waiting, am’ I right?”
She heaved a heavy but slightly amused sigh through the phone.
“I really am sorry Sans. But if it’s of any consolation, I could call Undyne and ask her to pick you up. She shouldn’t be in any sort of business right now as far as I know; does that sound alright with you?”
Heh, asking him if it’s alright to get picked up by the fish gal instead. Toriel sure had her odd questions for confirmation, at least when it came to getting picked up by someone who wasn’t her. He found it kind of funny, in a weird sense of unnecessary gratitude. It shouldn’t really matter who it was that picked him up as long as he got home safely, right?
“You got nothing to be sorry about Tori, I get it. And yeah, it would be great if ya’ called her for me. Hopefully she won’t be busy binge-listening to soap operas on the radio again.” Sans answered amusingly, briefly remembering the time when Papyrus had forced him to a sleepover at Alphys’ place, and the haughty fishwoman had been high on adrenaline from listening to the latest and most awesome detective story that she just had to share with the others, even if it was by force.
Toriel chuckled heartedly at the implication through the phone, letting out a small sigh of relief and contentment.
“Well, I’ll make sure that she picks you up, whether she is being actively mesmerized by soap operas or not. You can always try and call her or Alphys instead if she doesn’t show up otherwise.”
A short pause passed on the other line.
“Make sure to take care of yourself, alright? After all, I don’t want to see you work yourself completely down to the bone.” One could practically hear the mischievousness in hear tone of voice at the end of the spoken sentence. It really was an endearing sound to hear from a lady like her, Sans thought.
“Hehe, good one.” He always loved hearing her cracking jokes, no matter how unoriginal or repetitive they could be. “Don’t worry though, there’s no way a lazybones like me would be able to go that far, I’d already be snoozing off halfway through.” Sans answered with the same jokey mischievousness in his voice. “Well, I guess I’ll see ya’ later then?”
Chuckling with the same sweet and warm voice once again, she answered; “oh yes, we’ll have to meet up again someday soon. Maybe you’d like to babysit Frisk sometime, if that’s not too much work for you to handle.”
He chuckled fondly at that thought. “Heh, sure, I’d like that. Haven’t got to see the kid in a while. See ya’ soon then.”
“goodbye Sans, and take care.” She answered with her naturally tender kindness and hung up the phone from the other side.
Sans did so as well after a moment of cogitation, putting back the handset to its rightful place on the phone handle.
Alright, good. Undyne would show up with her car and give him a ride home, great. He would be able to ignore his little predicament in his pants as he walked out of the building, got into the car and its lumpy seats and then finally get inside the house, hopefully without alerting his brother of his great difficulty in walking like a normal, healthy person. Yes. He could do that, no problem.
His small strands of hope and reassurance were cut short however when Sans finally turned around to leave for the exit, the pencils in the holes of his sacrum scratching hard against sensitive bones and instantly making his body react to it with shots of electrifying shudders and agonizing discomfort. He reflexively groaned at the movement, hastily covering his mouth with his left hand to prevent any other sounds to slip out of him and steadied himself. Okay, no problem, he could do this. Just walk slowly and carefully to the exit and then wait for the fish gal and the car to arrive, that’s all.
With newfound resolution to get home without ending up in any potential misfortune, the skeleton took another step towards the door leading outside, the same familiar pain itching and scratching him inside out his sacrum to then peter out through the pelvis area and tailbone. He continued this motion excruciatingly slowly and carefully, ignoring the awkward stares he got from the passerby’s and the disgustingly familiar snickers from the group of cops standing far behind him.
Almost there, keep going. This is easy, you’ll be fine.
Another step, another hitched breath through clenched shut teeth from the repetitive intrusion haunting him and his lower body parts.
After what seemed like decades of torturous walking at a snail’s pace, accompanied by muffled curses and hitched breathing, Sans finally reached the exit’s door handle and opened the door to temporary freedom.
~~~~
It was a beautiful day outside. Birds were singing, flowers were blooming. On this particular day, Sans was having a really bad time just keeping his legs from collapsing. The painfully vexatious soreness in his sacrum was pulling him into such an extreme exhaustion that Sans almost wished to just black out completely right there on the sidewalk, letting sleep embrace his tired bones into comforting darkness and relaxing ease.
Unfortunately, that wish wasn’t really an option for him at the moment if he didn’t want his brother and friends to find out the reason behind his pained prostration. He would just have to suck it up and not be such a wuss about it, no matter how racking it was just standing there waiting for the damn ride to arrive and get him back to his apartment.
If he could, he probably would’ve taken a smoke or two before Undyne arrived, just to get something to concentrate on while ignoring the painful itch inside his pants. But when checking his pockets, he realized that the cops had taken both the cigarettes and the lighter from him when they previously ‘interrogated’ him. He let out a curse under his breath, clenching his slightly scratched pair of shoes in his right hand out of irritation as he stood there on the sidewalk outside the police station, impatiently waiting for the fish woman to arrive.
Minutes went by until finally, Sans saw the familiar Crossley Ten Saloon car drive up beside him. As much as he was relieved over Undyne’s arrival, he remembered that he was still dreading the fact of sitting down on a lumpy seat in his currently injured state for a solid fifteen minutes of driving. He just hoped that the fish gal wouldn’t notice his discomfort during this time, opting for taking his seat at the back instead of sitting right next to her. Hopefully she wouldn’t take notice of that brief decision.
Her bold and yellow right eye met his white eye lights filled with fatigue as the red-haired woman leaned over the seat beside her to look at the skeleton.
“Hey bonehead.” She greeted him in her casually brash way, a toothy stout resembling a smile of civility on her face. Her interpretation of said smile fell a bit however into a slightly confused one when she saw the shoes in his right arm, noticing now that the skeleton wasn’t wearing them on his feet like any other normal person should.
“why the heck aren’t you wearing your shoes for? Too lazy to put them on or something?” she said in unimpressed distaste, clearly not liking what she was seeing with the implication hanging in the air between the two. Sans could care less at the moment, not giving a single care about her opinions of him and his decisions in life. Especially now when the most part of his mind was occupied by the repeated pulsing of displeasure down his crotch, reminding him why the fish woman was here in the first place to nag about his lifestyle, reminding himself to keep calm and play it cool like he always did, no matter the circumstances.
“Heh, ya’ know me. Was gonna’ ride with you anyway, so why bother?” he answered with a playful smirk, hoping that answer was enough to satisfy her impassive question.
She let out an annoyed grunt at his nonchalant answer as she rolled her eyes, not caring enough to question him further as he probably would just answer her with awful puns anyway. Sans went to open the door to the back seats when he remembered that his left arm was still seriously injured. But with the pair of shoes embraced in his right arm, he had no other choice but to at least try and open it with his injured arm instead.
As he turned the handle and opened the door, his arm immediately recoiled at the motion, electrifying agony shooting throughout his left radius and ulna, making the skeleton so very close to scream out in frustrated anguish, but managed to stop himself with a small shuddering whine as he took a deep breath to calm his nerves.
“Shit, that smarts! Woo, It’s okay, deep breaths. You’ll be fine as long as you ignore it and move along…” he told himself inwardly, hoping that the distressed noise he had made had gone unnoticed by the red-haired woman.
One glance at the driver’s seat seemed to prove that right, as Undyne seemed to be deep in her own thoughts as she mindlessly watched the streets and its citizens. Sans let out a sigh of relief and then prepared himself for the next task at hand. Sitting down on the seats...great, he did NOT look forward to this.
He slowly and carefully lifted his left foot as he slightly bent over under the roof of the car, producing a straining pain throughout his sacrum from the movement, but ignoring it to the best of his abilities. Throwing his shoes in one corner inside the car, he slowly heaved himself over the seats, pulling as much of his weight as possible into his right arm as he slowly lowered his severely sensitive rear and braced himself for the upcoming agony this action would bring.
And boy, was he right about that predicament.
A strongly prickling ache manifested itself in his sacral dorsal foramina’s as the pencils squeezed together from the pressure between his rear and the hard, lumpy seat. They roughly scratched and stabbed into his ridiculously vulnerable sacrum as he desperately tried to adjust himself on the seat, arousing such a penetrating and burning sensation throughout his skeletal body it almost made Sans want to vomit in disgusted agony. All he could let out at that moment however was a pain-filled whine that made Sans inwardly slap himself when he realized how much attention that one sound could bring to him from the fish driver in the front seat.
He was dreadfully right about that probability when Undyne suddenly turned around in surprise at the noise, giving Sans an odd and slightly confused look as said skeleton seemed to be in an extremely uncomfortable state just from the concept of sitting down, which was pretty perplexing to the fish monster as he hadn’t showed or told her of any severe injuries anywhere.
“Uh, you’re alright there punk?” Undyne asked in a disconcerted tone with a small frown on her face, slightly unsure if she should try and persuade him into letting her heal his presumed wounds or not, if it was as troublesome as he let on from the way he had sounded just now.
“Eh y-yeah, I’m fine. Cops’ seemed to have banged me up more than I initially thought as all.” Sans chuckled shakily, the skeleton’s exterior magic equivalent to human sweat beads running down the side of his skull as he faced her with a slightly strained smile.
The way he seemed to be… stifling?... however, proved his usually laidback smile to be fake and forced in an attempt to hide his discomfort, Undyne noticed.
“Um, are ya’ sure? I could always try and heal you for a bit if ya’ need it…” Undyne answered awkwardly, not entirely sure whether that was a necessary act to implement or not, as the two monsters never had needed to help each other out on a more confidential level before than doing their respective jobs whenever the gang had business going on.
While Sans and Undyne were close acquaintances with each other through work and the close friendship that the fish lady had with the skeleton’s younger brother, they were both far from being considered as “friends”. She never really liked the smaller skeleton all that much because of his ridiculously lazy nature and lack of taking situations seriously, always cracking bad jokes and puns as if he thought that would somehow lighten up the mood in their states of affairs. Truly and admittedly, Undyne thought very little of Sans, only giving him what little respect she had left for him whenever he actually was of use to the gang, those frequent times when they needed him to distract the cops by being an annoying ass, ending up being beaten up every now and then by those guys.
"Not that it was any hard work for someone like him to be an obnoxious punching-bag", Undyne thought to herself as she waited for the seemingly wincing skeleton to give her his approval. From what she could perceive, the skeleton was obviously in some kind of physical pain and as so, the fish lady was pretty certain that the skeleton needed some help with whatever wound that was bothering him to this extent.
“h-heh n-nah, it’s alright, I’m not t-that boned up. I-I’m going tibia fine as long as I can get home and b-be a lazybones for a while.” Sans slightly stuttered with a weak and not-so-convincing chuckle, straining the fake smile plastered on his face even further as he leaned all his weight onto his right arm, clenching the seat with his phalanges in pained frustration.
This just further convinced the red-haired woman that he was in fact in a lot of pain, even if he played it off like it was nothing to worry about.
Initially, Undyne was surprised to hear him decline the offer, but she waved it off as him just acting stubborn. if Sans was going to be so obstinate about letting her help him, then so be it, she didn’t care.
“It’s entirely his own fault if he ends up getting hurt even more because of his own persistence.” She reasoned with herself as she glanced the small skeleton over one last time before heaving an annoyed sigh at the ever so god-awful puns and turned around in her seat, finally driving away from the police station and onto the busy streets of their town once again.
Their ride back home was probably one of the most uncomfortable and awkward moments of their entire lives, the two monsters in the car pondered in slight exacerbation.
The reason for this predicament was mainly because that no matter how steadily Sans supported his weight onto his uninjured arm, just briefly sitting on his rear proved to be enough to make the skeleton hiss and hitch his breath in pain through firmly clenched teeth every now and then. It got even worse during those (thankfully) few times when the car would bump over something on the road, a rock or whatever it was, and make the skeleton’s light-weighted body follow the rules of gravity and jump slightly into the air to then land back down on his tailbone. God, did those moments hurt like hell, the touchdown to the seats combined with the slamming constriction of the pencils making his sacrum instantly scream out in agony, like electricity sharply zapping his groin to then flow throughout his lower parts in waves of agonizing itches and prickles.
In these moments of excruciating physical torment, Sans couldn’t help but let out the occasional, pained whine or groan, his body quivering from the pressure of holding himself together and not end up screeching in distress or black out in the back seats from his exhaustion.
Okay, stay calm. Everything is going great, just take deep breaths and ignore it. You’re almost home…
Almost home…
Of course, Undyne did notice the weird and slightly uncomfortable sounds emitting from the small skeleton. She considered whether she should’ve asked Sans again if he really was alright, but on the other hand, he would probably just continue acting stubborn and dismiss her offer yet again.
She couldn’t fathom why the bonehead were so persistent on acting like everything was alright when it was obviously clear that something was wrong with him. Was he really that distrusting of her, or was he just being self-conscious? Over what, then? Or maybe, he was hiding something? But what would he be hiding exactly? She could understand if it was the notion of keeping ones’ pride and not show weakness to someone that they didn’t get along with very well, but Sans was far from the kind of monster who considered his dignity being more important than his well-being, right? God, this whole situation was just a cluster of endless questions with no legitimate answers whatsoever!
The fish woman heaved a heavy and frustrated sigh, choosing to ignore the skeleton’s sorely obvious distress for now. It was kind of a cowardly decision from someone as strong and daring as her, she had to admit, disgruntled at that fact. but what else could she do really in this situation? If the skeleton didn’t want her help and wanted to act strong-willed instead, then that’s fine by her. That was his decision. She didn’t care if he ended up in some kind of misfortune because of that, not at all!
After a long time of shared pain and denial, the pair finally reached the skeleton brothers’ apartment.
Undyne drove her car up to the sidewalk right outside the entrance to let Sans off. Said skeleton kept struggling with his movements for a while just to get out of the car before finally standing up straight outside the car, posture stiff and faintly trembling as he turned around to the red-haired woman to say goodbye and thanks for the ride. His face was slightly scrunched up in what seemed to be vexation, his grin looking more akin to a grimace and magical sweat beads trailing down his metaphorical brows knitting together.
“W-well, thanks for the ride. M-maybe I’ll see ya’ to- ‘marrow’?” Sans let out a forced chuckle at his own bad pun and turned towards the entrance of the apartment, not waiting for the fish lady to answer his casual question or horrible pun.
Undyne noticed the skeleton’s weird way of walking from where she was seated and kept watching him in confusion as he moved towards his home. He was both slowly and clumsily limping and stumbling his legs in a dysfunctional manner that looked like a mix of a drunk man walking and one that had been shot. It unnerved her a bit seeing him move so ridiculously, and she realized with that fact in mind that the source of his extreme discomfort seemed to be coming from somewhere around the rear area.
Had he broken a hip or something at the police station? No, he wouldn’t be able to support his legs enough to stand if that was the case. But why was he walking so funny, then?
As Sans opened the door and slowly went inside, something suddenly caught the red-haired woman’s eye as a small object fell out of the skeleton’s right pant leg at his feet. The object made a small clattering sound as it rolled away from its owner, said monster not noticing it at all as the entrance door closed behind him.
Undyne was both very confused and bewildered at this. What the heck was that object falling out of Sans’ pants? And from the hole of his pant leg at that? What was it doing there in the first place?
She exited the car to pick up and examine whatever it was that the skeleton had dropped, Curiosity filling her with so many questions and hypothetical conclusions until she finally found what she was looking for. She picked it up.
It was a pencil. An ordinary ink-pencil, to be specific, with small scratches on it…
Why the heck had this fallen out of his pant leg? Did he have a hole in his pocket or something?
Slightly disappointed with her finding, the fish woman put the pencil into her own pocket to return to Sans later the next time they would meet. She turned around and entered the driver’s seat in her car again and drove out onto the streets to head home.
~~~~
………
Well, fuck him in the metaphorical ass.
After all that trouble, after all that agony and shame and discomfort and everything that made him feel like a piece of shit that had been so tortuously violated to the point of almost being suicidal, Sans had completely forgotten about one of his common mortal enemies that intruded his life whenever he was forced to go outside this building.
The stairs…
The goddamn stairs that would be near impossible for him to overcome now in his current state of torturous suffering and fatigue.
Great, another challenge that has to be conquered in his position of lethargy.
Just his fucking luck…
And so he began his racking journey up the stairs, lifting his right foot to the first step and immediately drawing out the same awfully familiar straining in his sacrum from the movement.
Alright, you can do this. Just take one step at a time and you’ll be fine. Not like you have any other choice anyway if you don’t want Papyrus to find o--
He paused in his movements, standing completely still as a shiver of dread shot through his spine.
Oh god, what if Papyrus was home?! How could he have forgotten about this obvious possibility?! How the hell would he be able to act natural around his brother like this?! Wait, maybe he was down in his spaghetti restaurant? Oh stars, please let Papyrus be in the spaghetti restaurant!
His mind was racing into all kinds of dreadful thoughts and emotions as the skeleton desperately tried to climb the cursed stairs, his sacrum howling in so much agony and torment from his repetitive motions and the god-awful pencils squeezing, scratching and penetrating his dorsal sacral foramina’s over and over and over again. Each step up the stairs sent harsh stabs of pain that ached throughout his sacrum, down to the tailbone and prickling out into the pelvic girdle.
His mind felt so hazy and muddled from hypersensitivity as he slowly stumbled up and up and up, feeling like it was taking decades for him to just reach his apartment door when the skeleton brothers only lived on the third floor.
Another step, a shot of electricity coursing through his private parts and emitting a loud whine from his heavily panting mouth, creating a painful headache in the progress…
A third step, one drawn-out groan. a fourth one, a small but shocking shrill. a fifth, every single move twinging the pelvis area, stinging him, cutting him, stabbing him over and over…
He slowly and clumsily stumbled his way up the stairs, almost begging for the pain to just leave and disappear for good…
Please don’t let Papyrus be home, please don’t let Papyrus be home, please…
Finally, he reached the door to their apartment, fumbling for the keys in his jacket in his daze of wishful hoping, locking it up and hobbling his way inside.
Sans was met with complete silence in their very small hallway. No whistling tunes from a certain skeleton doing his chores, no clanking and clattering emitting from the kitchen were said skeleton usually cooked his ‘amazing’ spaghetti. There was only the sense of lifeless ambience haunting their minuscule nest of comfortability and tranquility.
Nobody was home.
Thank god nobody was home.
Thank god whoever gave him the mercy of not interacting with his brother right now…
He wobbled inside, his only focus kept on reaching the bathroom before it was too late. Every agonizing step almost crushing his resolve to not just give up right then and there and collapse to the floor.
But he couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t do it. Sans couldn’t risk showing himself like this to Papyrus, not to his little brother, his bundle of light that desperately needed to be protected from the older skeleton’s cruel reality.
He couldn’t give in to the grueling fatigue just yet… not yet…
He finally reached the bathroom after decades of wobbling and swaying his body unsteadily towards his goal, opening the door, closing it behind him and making absolutely sure that he locked it before falling clumsily to the checkered floor in exhaustion, completely forgetting about his cracked radius and ulna on his left arm. The impact made him involuntarily screech in pain from the fall as he let himself lie on the floor in a trembling mess of rattled bones, heavily breathing and wheezing as he tried to collect himself from the convulsion. He still had an important task left to overcome after all.
God, he wished he didn’t have to do it. It hurt so much just thinking about it…
But he had to… stars, he absolutely had to…
He carefully started undressing his pants as much as one could in this kind of predicament he was suffering from, slowly pulling them down to his tibia and fibula, not bothering to kick them off his legs completely in his prostrated state.
No matter how much it hurt, he had to pull the pencils out.
And so he did.
He reached his right hand down to his sacrum, took a firm grip with his phalanges around what felt like a lead pencil, and yanked it out.
There was a prickling feeling of release from one of his dorsal sacral foramina’s were the pencil had been stuck at, relief washing over the skeleton at the sensation.
God, it already felt so much better to be freed from this horrible punishment. It was such a comforting ease to perceive at that moment for Sans as he let out a palliative whimper and continued his ministrations.
He reached for another one, finding two pencils firmly stuck into the same hole, and yanked them out. More prickling sensations washing over his sacrum and another whine of relieved release slipping out of his clenched teeth.
All these sudden stimulations shooting throughout his body was making his skull so muddled and dazed from the oversensitivity, that he couldn’t really tell anymore if he should’ve felt bad or good about that strangely familiar feeling of alleviating release, the small jolts of electricity that haunted him finally calming down and instead being replaced with such a relieving serenity that it could almost be interpreted as pleasurable.
With more and more pencils being pulled out of him and drooped to the floor, the comfort of solace and tranquility was slowly and steadily overtaking him and draining his sore and tired bones, his initial fatigue catching up to him and making his eye sockets droop. He forced himself to stay awake however, just until he was certain that every single pencil was out of him for good.
Release, rinse and repeat…
After god knows how much time had passed, Sans was eventually done.
The small skeleton kept laying down with his back on the floor, pencils spread around the shivering but calm heap of bones with pants pulled halfway down his legs and a wrinkled, dirty shirt covering his upper parts, relishing in the moment of peaceful serenity with only the heavy but steady breathing from his chest keeping him company.
Finally, the task was done.
Letting relaxation seep into his weak and limp body, Sans got to close his eye sockets at last and let the well-acquainted darkness embrace him into a deep, dreamless sleep.
A gratifying stillness...
And he was out.