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“I know we’ve been married and divorced twice already, but humans say the third time is the charm!” Mettaton professed to Mettafell as a laugh track played in the background. Sans grimaced and shook his skull at the television.
He was more into documentaries than soap operas, but Papyrus had begged Sans to watch this particular episode. It was the ‘Spectacular Ultimate Finale’ of the series (there had been several other finales previous to this). His brother was hooked and wanted to discuss its underlying ’sociopolitical commentary’ with someone other than Edge.
Sans sunk deeper into Red’s old couch. Edge had given it to them as a gift when Sans and Red moved in together a year ago. It was broken in just right and wide enough that they could both nap on it. They’d been dating for over three years now and had spent a lot of time on this couch.
He did a lot for his brother, but he was beginning to regret saying yes to this. Sans liked to think he was pretty smart, but the overcomplicated and contradictory plot of this show made it feel like his brain was melting out of his skull. Mettaton had been insufferable already, but now he was collaborating with his Underfell counterpart too.
“Will you make me the happiest robot alive and marry me?” Mettaton whipped out a ring and fell to both of his knees for extra dramatic effect. Sans gagged as Mettafell enthusiastically agreed and pulled out his own ring box.
“I had the same idea darling!” Mettafell batted all four sets of his eyelashes.
Thankfully the front door opened, sparring Sans temporarily from the ridiculousness of it all. Red came inside, finally home from work. His boyfriend looked tired after a day of paper pushing at his office job, but there was mischievous gleam in his eyelights and a bouquet of blue roses in his hands.
“Welcome home, petal.” Sans sniggered.
“Shut it, bud-dy.” Red replied with an amused grin.
He came over and gave Sans a kiss, before plopping down on the couch – flowers and all.
“What’s the special occasion? Did I forget our anniversary again?” Sans asked, pretending not to be concerned while trying to remember the date.
“No, numbskull.” Red huffed. “Can’t a guy just do something nice and get his beau a bou-quet?”
Sans looked at the flowers warily. It’s not that Red didn’t usually do nice things or get him gifts. It was just that those gestures always had a deeper meaning attached, an emotional significance that might be obvious to Red but was a mystery to Sans.
“I’ll be-leaf you this time.” Sans said and pressed his nasal aperture into the blooms. The scent was feint, but sweet.
Red beamed. It was such an unguarded, happy expression that Sans couldn’t help blushing. His boyfriend was in a really great mood for some reason.
“What are you watchin’?” Red asked, finally noticing that the tv was on.
“Some soap opera finale that Papyrus talked me into watching. Why, you want to do something else?” Sans asked, hopeful for a reason to turn it off.
“Nah, finish your show. We can have dinner after and then I got an important question for ya.”
“Alright, as long as it’s not ‘will you marry me?’ These robots have turned me off the idea for life.” Sans laughed.
He expected Red to join in, but he got up instead. The flowers were clutched tight in his phalanges. Sans reached out to tug on Red’s sleeve. Since he had an office job, he had to wear button downs even though he preferred t-shirts.
“You just got home, babe. Park your buns and put your dogs up for a while.” Sans was hoping for some cuddling action.
“I gotta put these in some water before they wilt.” Red sounded a bit congested. He pulled his sleeve out of Sans grip. Before Sans could say anything Red headed into the kitchen off the living room.
That was weird.
One second, they’d been punning it up like usual and then Red shut down. Sometimes that happened after he had a long day at work. Except Red was acting less like he was tired and more like a punctured balloon, leaking his good mood as if it was escaping helium.
Sans tried to shrug it off and get back into the show, but he couldn’t follow what was happening anymore. After five more minutes, he gave up and turned it off. He fidgeted on the couch unsure on if he should go check on Red.
They’d worked on this part of their relationship a lot. Sans wasn’t responsible for Red’s mood, he knew that. Red feeling down didn’t mean that he didn’t love Sans either. They’d come to accept that sometimes they’d need space to regulate their emotions and to avoid the urge to somehow ‘fix’ something that was unfixable.
Except Sans couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong.
Sans hadn’t heard Red go upstairs yet, so maybe they could at least have dinner together. He shuffled into the kitchen and saw two greasy brown paper bags on the counter. Red stood at the sink, filling a vase for the flowers with water.
Sans' soul swelled with love. Red was always providing for them. Maybe he really just wanted to take care of the bouquet.
“Grillby’s for dinner? You’re spoiling me.” Sans wrapped around Red from behind. They were the same height so it was easy to nuzzle at Red’s exposed spine. Red shuddered.
“What did I do to deserve you?” Sans murmured affectionately.
Instead of relaxing into Sans’ arms, Red rested his weight on the sink. Even though he’d turned off the faucet, there was a dripping sound. Red droplets flecked onto the blue roses, leaving purple smudges on their petals.
“Red?” Sans said in a small voice.
Red didn’t reply because he was silently crying.
“Baby, what’s the matter?” Sans asked. It was hard to keep the alarm out of his voice, but he knew that if he freaked out then Red would lose it even worse.
Red shook with the effort of keeping his sobs quiet. He wiped the tears away with his sleeve, staining the fabric. Sans could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen Red cry. In Underfell it had been dangerous to show weakness, so Red channeled his sadness into anger. It had taken him a long time to be vulnerable enough to cry around Sans.
“It’s nothin.” Red said in a wavering, raspy voice. “Just being stupid. Of course-“ He gritted his teeth together to choke back the tears.
“You’re not stupid. We decided you got the brains and I got the good looks, remember?” Sans attempted a comforting joke. Red huffed out a breath instead of his usual husky laugh.
“Things are good, right? What’s the point in messin’ up a good thing by changing it.” It sounded like Red was trying to convince himself more than he was trying to persuade Sans.
Sans held onto Red tighter. He didn’t know what to do, but he wouldn’t give up on trying to help. Red taught him that it was okay to want things, to cherish the people he loved despite the fear that they could be taken away someday.
Sans would never let go of Red. This thing that they had made everything else so much better, even the hard stuff. There was nobody else for him.
“Yeah, Red. We’re good. I love you and nothing is ever going to change that.” Sans affirmed.
Red shook harder as if the words were bullet patterns landing directly on his soul.
“I know that, I do. I just-“ Red trailed off again. “It was a stupid question. When we talked about it before – you said maybe after we settled into our place. We signed the lease a year ago today, so I got an idea in my head. Of course, it’s too soon.”
“Too soon for what?” Sans asked. As soon as he said it though, it all clicked together in his skull like one of Papyrus’ puzzles.
The flowers. Grillby’s. The way Red had looked at him on the couch - safe, happy, and loved.
“That was your question,” Sans said in awe, “will you marry me?”
Red nodded his skull so hard in agreement that it cracked against the bridge of Sans’ nasal aperture. It hurt. Sans groaned and took a step back to cover his aching face.
Red turned around to look at him.
“Sansy, did I hurt ya?” The shocked red pinpricks of his eyelights darted up and down Sans, mentally triaging the situation. All of his attention was suddenly on Sans, his inner turmoil cast aside. Sans’ HP was much higher than 1 these days, but Red was always careful with him.
Sans started laughing as Red tried to pull his metacarpals away to get a good look at the damage. Blue tears of pain and joy rimmed his sockets. He held Red’s hands so that he could put their foreheads together.
“It was an accident, but I kind of deserve it for being such a bonehead.” He squeezed their phalanges. “I think our dinner has gone cold anyway, so you better ask me that important question now.”
“But I ruined the mood. I cried on your flowers – I mighta just broke your nose bone!” Red protested.
They were pressed so close that their tears were mixed into a purple mess on their cheekbones. Sans had never been happier. His grin was so wide his jaw might crack.
“Then you better hurry up and ask me so we can heal it. Wouldn’t want to risk my good looks.”
Red let out a wet laugh. Then he took a deep breath. He pulled back just enough so that their eyelights could meet.
“Sans Undertale, I’m wild about ya. I love you and your bad jokes and the way you get me laughin’ even when I’m fallin’ apart. Will you make me the happiest skeleton alive and marry this sad sack of bones?”
Sans held his gaze, committing this moment to memory so that he could never forget it.
“Red, before I met you - I never let anybody get under my skin. It was pretty bonely. I had nobody because I was too scared to get close enough to care. Then you crashed into my life and made me care. I’m not scared anymore, because I know that the pain is worth it. You better make an honest skeleton out of me, because I want tibia pain in your tailbone for the rest of our lives.”
Red was beaming again. His cheeks and shirt were stained with their magic. Sans knew he couldn’t look much better. They were a mess and that was exactly how he liked it.
Sans swayed forward and gave Red a tender kiss.
“Yes, I’ll marry you.”