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It was late. Well, not really. It just felt late. You’d finished your coursework around 3 hours ago, and as the relief settled in, so did the exhaustion.
However, you felt you owed Papyrus a duty to visit him, after failing to speak to him for the past four weeks. You’d spoken to him for a limited period, as if you had failed to you knew he would become worried and possibly break down your front door. There was still a dent from the last time Papyrus visited post you failing to speak to him.
The door had been opened at such a velocity it had bounced off the wall and almost hit the tall skeleton smack in his concerned face, when he saw you laid on your sofa, dishevelled and covered in blankets. The greyness in your face must have been the main concerning factor, as to Papyrus’ knowledge “Humans weren’t supposed to be grey.”
Thankfully Sans had tagged along too, and seemed to have a more basic understanding of how the human anatomy worked. It surprised you that the smaller skeleton had come with his brother.
It was no secret Sans didn’t like you, despite you desperately hoping he would accept you. You suspected he wasn’t fond of you due to your inherent attraction to his brother. Papyrus, of course, oblivious goofball that he was never suspected a thing. He assumed you and Sans were the best of friends, due to the thin attempt at friendship the two of you displayed when he was present.
You wished you could stop yourself liking him. But no matter how much you tried, you always ended back at their house. His presence was addictive, although you’d never been alone with him. His brother was always there, always with you. He was just…so caring, and considerate.
Like when you were ill, your favourite meal just happened to be on the side once you got out of the shower. There was no note, no sign as to who might have cooked it, nothing. It was more edible than Papyrus or Undyne’s cooking, lacked the concerned note of Toriel’s gifts and was too underwhelming for Mettaton, but you knew Papyrus was the only one who could have cooked it.
You’d never told him your favourite dish, but he could have guessed easily, as your best friend, who knew everything about you.
Sans was the one who answered the door of course, Papyrus apparently being busy creating another pasta masterpiece – a pastapiece if you will.
His face stretched into a lazy grin when he saw you, the softer malleable bone which stretched over his face to allow expressions contorting under his sockets and cheeks, as he gave you a quick once over.
“Heya Y/N. Ya finish that work?” He asked, leaning against the door. That was one of the signature ways he singled you out. He called everyone else ‘kid’ or ‘pal’, friendly nicknames you were never given. It was always Y/N. Plain and simple. A wobble of what you assumed was fear settled inside your stomach. You had missed the sound of his voice. Deep and mellifluous, it was the perfect contrast to Papyrus’ higher pitched but not unpleasant voice. You didn’t like Sans, but you could appreciate how well the brothers complimented each other.
You nodded wordlessly, hair falling forwards into your face. Nervously, you look around the room, agitated at the thought of being left alone with Sans. You swept the hair back from your face and tucked it behind your ear.
His eyes seemed to follow yours, as you scoured the room, desperately searching for Papyrus.
Sans stepped back from the door to allow you access to the familiar front room. You stepped inside, and Sans called out “Hey Paps, Y/N’s here fer ya.”
“Y/N?!” You heard a crash, and then a squeak from Papyrus’ rubber soles turning too quickly on the tiled floor in the kitchen.
Seconds later you were swept up by a hurricane named Papyrus into a bone crushing hug.
“HUMAN Y/N! I WAS NOT EXPECTING YOU! YOU HAVE CAUGHT THE GREAT PAPYRUS OFF GUARD IN THE MIDDLE OF MY GREATEST MASTERPIECE!” The skeleton yelled in your ear.
You winced and Papyrus noticed and looked horrified.
“OH! I AM SORRY HUMAN! I FORGET THAT YOUR EARS ARE SO MUCH MORE FRAGILE THE CLOSER YOU GET! I WILL PUT YOU DOWN NOW.” Carefully the exuberant skeleton lowered you to the ground. “I MUST ATTEND TO MY PASTA; THEREFORE, I ASK THAT YOU REMAIN HERE WITH SANS UNTIL I AM DONE!” the skeleton proclaimed.
You inaudibly gulped. Alone? With Sans? You opened your mouth to protest, but he was gone, and the two of you were left alone. You felt the air of awkwardness settle and turned to look at Sans.
Standing slouched in the corner of the room, he had never looked more at ease. A slight smirk was playing over his face as though he would enjoy this greatly.
You headed for the sofa, deciding you would be less vulnerable there.
Seating yourself, it was only when you felt the sofa dip slightly you realised your mistake. He was stretched out, as though he wanted to take up as much room as possible. You appreciated that it was a large sofa so it didn’t impede on you, you still curled up, to avoid accidental contact.
“So…” Sans began by breaking the awkward silence. “What was that report on?”
“Um… the discovery of gaseous alcohol in space.” You spoke softly. His eyes seemed to light up a little with interest.
“Oh, the bridge near the centre of the milky way? The menthol one?” He asked.
You nodded, hair falling forwards into your face. Sans stretched out to tuck it behind your ear, just as you reached up to do the same. Your hands collided mid-air, soft warm skin and taught muscles against hard bone, humming with the blue magic that gave him life, like the gas in a car. Both of you flinched and retracted your hands slightly, flushing, your face growing warm and pink as blood flooded to your cheeks, whilst his was dusted with a pale blue, before Sans smoothly pushed the loose strands away, pausing only secondarily to lightly caress your cheek.
Then he seemed to realise what he was doing, as he flushed bright blue, and ripped his hand from your face as though it burned him. Your face burned bright red, and the two of you looked away awkwardly.
“…Sans?” You asked, hesitantly, softly.
“Yea?” Came the answer.
“Why do you hate me?” You asked.
He stiffened. “Hate ya? Ya think I hate ya?” He asked, and you could feel his eyes boring into you.
You turned to look at him. “Well, don’t you? You avoid me whenever you can, like I burn you, you call me by my name, which you don’t do to anyone else, you’re only around me when Papyrus makes you be. It certainly gives the impression of hating me.” His sockets were wide with surprise, lights wide and flicking over every inch of your face.
“I don’…hate ya. It’s the exact opposite in fact. I…I like ya. I avoid ya cause… well cause that scares me. I don’ exactly know howta deal with that. ‘m scared if I get too close to ya, well. I’ll give myself away. But, I’d rather ya knew an’ stopped talkin’ to me than think I hate ya. I call ya by yer name, cause I think it’s a really nice name. I don’ wanna shorten it. As fer bein’ around when Paps it well, it don’ look so suspicious then. I guess ya missed when I made ya that (favourite dish.)”
“That, was you?” You asked in surprise.
“Yea.” He finished in short.
You didn’t know that you were an oblivious person. Well, that wasn’t true. You could be oblivious towards some things, but you always thought that if someone confessed to you, you would have known about their feelings beforehand.
You thought about Sans.
When he had come to visit you when you were sick.
You assumed Papyrus had made him, although when you reminisced you recalled a concerned look on the older sibling’s skull.
How he had a gift for asking intricately crafted questions to extract information without you even knowing you were giving it away.
That must be how he knew what your favourite dish was, and had made for you. This gesture of quiet concern seemed exactly like him, and yet, completely unlike him.
His dumb jokes were oddly charming, and his presence alone was powerful. You didn’t know what it was at all. He was lazy and never one to exert himself or help anyone else. Or at least so it seemed. But then every time you thought you had him pinned down, thought maybe you were starting to understand him, he’d do something which would defy everything you knew about him.
The more you thought about it, the more you realised. It had never been Papyrus. You had just gotten swept up in his exuberance. It had always been Sans. as you thought about it now, it took you off guard.
You couldn’t help yourself. Everyone else you had ever met was so…two dimensional. But Sans…Sans was so different. Just when you thought he hated you, he’d make some corny joke that made you relaxed around him. You didn’t understand how a character could be so laid back and relaxed, and at the same time, so…terrifying. Something about him was ominous, threatening. And yet you felt more at ease with him than you had with anyone else.
You turned to Sans, who was watching you nervously.
You swallowed.
“I…I like you too Sans.” You confessed.
And suddenly you had a faceful of blue cloth, as Sans pulled you into a hug. The warm minty smell of his magic invaded your nostrils and the sweetness of ketchup.
He was warm, and slightly bony to lean against, but still comfortable.
You weren’t sure how long the two of you lay there, but in the warmth and comfort of Sans arms, you became drowsy.
Just as you were drifting off to sleep, you felt a light pressure on your forehead, and Sans softly whisper “Thank you.”
Papyrus walked in later, to summon the human and Sans to try his latest dish, but paused in the doorway. On the sofa, were Sans and the human, curled up together in an intangible knot. Your head was rested on Sans’ ribs, and his arms were wrapped around your stomach.
Instead of waking you, Papyrus merely snapped a quick photo which became trending very quickly, after it was posted on Undernet, tagging both you and Sans, to wake up to over 300 messages in the morning.