Work Text
After a series of unfortunate events just to get in your van and a tiresome drive with the low fuel light threatening to leave you without a ride, you've finally made it.
Your sanity balances itself on a thread, and you're pretty certain you look like a mess with the rain having ruined your makeup, yet you're here, and that's what matters.
So, maybe you did run over your phone after it fell while you were packing everything into the van in a frenzy. And perhaps you did lose all the phone numbers you worked so hard to collect when your notebook dipped into the dirtiest of puddles. But you at least have your neighbours' names, you know what they look like, and you've met a few of them already. Presently, you've been detained by Undyne herself, the fourth name on your list. She's made it clear she needs to interrogate you first before you progress any further, not just from how she looks at you, but because she's physically preventing you by holding the van back with a single hand over the front.
When she sees you change gears from drive to park, it's then that she lets go and walks to your side.
You sit up straight and try to maintain eye contact, yet that comes at the cost of sweaty palms and a weak voice.
"Name?" she asks, placing her arm over the open window.
"Oh, uh… I'm–"
"Wait," she says, narrowing her eyes. "You're the new substitute for secondary, aren't you?" She checks her phone. "Here pretty early, actually."
Your alarmed state since waking up this morning ends when you process what she's just said.
"I'm not late?" you ask.
"It's… six sharp," she replies.
She looks as confused as she sounds.
"You got a watch with you – a phone?"
You look at her like she's said something incoherent, mind refusing to accept it's that early. Because if it really is six o'clock, that would mean you woke up at two, and that you'd taken off at four. That would explain how dark it was outside, how sleepy your child was when you pulled them out of bed, how quiet the neighbourhood was while you were packing, and how traffic was worse than usual. You clearly remember your alarm marking on five in the morning, and you also clearly remember the phone saying it was seven before it got run over. But then you recall your alarm's been needing a change of batteries, and that you hadn't bothered to fix your phone's timezone since you bought it.
"...My van's, and it says it's past nine."
"Oh."
And there's that awkward silence you never fail to cause.
"No wonder everything's felt… off," you state, sighing.
Undyne grins – just as awkward.
Whereas, you slump and groan, letting your head fall over the steering wheel with enough carefulness not to trigger the horn.
"You've got a kid with you, right?" she asks, grin changing to a frown.
You look through the rearview mirror and see your child's woken up, likely from your conversation.
"Um… Yes."
She instructs you to lower the window by their side, then looks at them for a while before saying, "They're mixed."
"Y- Yes."
"You're widowed."
"...Yes."
And she seems to immediately notice how uncomfortable you become.
"Look. Sorry I'm asking you questions you've probably already answered too many times before, but… It's protocol, you know?"
"I understand."
She returns to her frowning state, then pulls out a notepad and begins to check things off.
"What's their monster percentage?"
"Um… Thirty-two."
"Where did you marry your husband?"
"At a… small, local church."
"You weren't legally married?"
"No. We didn't meet the requirements."
"Okay. Semi-final question…" She grits her teeth and looks as uncomfortable as her tone sounds. "Was it a natural birth or…"
She covers her face with her hands, then breathes deeply before looking up again.
"Oh God, what the HELL are these questions?! I doubt I can ask that last one!"
She breathes deeply once more.
"Sorry."
You tell her it's fine, and she sighs.
"So… Was it a natural birth, or was it… through a Caesarean delivery?"
"Caesarean."
Her eyes widen.
"So..." She huffs. "Looks like we did make a mistake in the files! I told the other guy – you know, the one who interrogated you the first time? But no, he insisted there weren't any mistakes. This means we'll have to do this whole interrogation. AGAIN."
"Right now?"
"Can't. Have to inform him about this, but I can give you my number, and we can set up a date. Hopefully, he'll never hear the end of it, for both your sake and mine." She rubs a hand across her forehead. "But what can I expect from an ICE-E employee doing community service hours?"
"You're allowing… likely underpaid, overworked fast food workers to do police interrogations?"
"Sounds better the way I say it, but..." Her face scrunches up. "Yeah, that's pretty much what we're doing here."
As if synched, you both look at the time – you at your van's watch and her at her phone – and make eye contact afterward.
"Well, there aren't many places available at this hour, but… Maybe you can meet your neighbours? The library should open soon, too."
A few steps back and her nodding for you to carry on follow as she points (admittedly vaguely) toward the library's direction.
"It's over there." She again points vaguely toward a different place. "And… Your apartment should be on that road next to this one."
With social anxiety being one of your biggest enemies, you don't dare ask for more specific directions and nod along like you've got it handled.
"Thank you. I'll see you later."
She nods and bares a grin.
"By the way," she adds, before you change gears again and close the windows. "Give this to your kid."
The van creaks as she leans an arm over the hood. She lowers her head and smiles at your child, while her free hand reaches out to you. Reluctantly, you take what she's offering you: a baseball cap with two small holes in it.
"They've got bunny ears under their hat, don't they? If you're not careful, they'll get droopy overtime. And if they've got a tail and bunny feet, you should also keep that in mind. Not good to hide those, if they're still growing."
Though you lose half an hour trying to find your apartment without asking for Undyne's help and another trying to find a place to park your van without feeling like you've taken someone's spot, you reach the library after ten more minutes by foot.
The streets are empty, and the only traffic nearby is the one Undyne causes herself, and that makes it easier to walk around without having to worry too much about road safety with a child at hand. The early hour and general calm make you wish you would've actually stepped inside your apartment and freshened up from the rain and the drive. Although, you're also itching to find at least one more person you can speak with before settling. In other words, you immediately rush to the door as soon as you spot a familiar face about to enter – another name on your list, and the one you found easiest to talk to the first time you met after your original interrogation with the ICE-E employee, however briefly. It was a 'hi, nice to meet you' and 'lovely weather we're having' type of thing, yet he'd made himself easy to get along with by twisting the conversation this way and that.
Now, he seems just as approachable: a book in one hand, a phone in the other, and a smile like his mind is somewhere else.
"Sir," you call out, heart in your throat from how much social energy that single action drains from you. "Wait!"
It's the skeleton man you'd been suggested to get to know better, mainly due to him being fairly new to the neighbourhood, too. Though the reason is far beyond what you truly need – learning more about Gerson Boom and all that – the guy who'd interviewed you persisted in his belief that you needed to make some friends before you regretted your life choices. It's something that seemed threatening at first, yet that's now changed to him seeming like he'd been talking from experience. With the perspective going from a mysterious man who'd interrogated you wanting to keep you on the right path to a weary fast food worker not wanting to wish his path in life to anyone, it's easy to believe it had been a vicarious suggestion. Like a parent wishing to fulfill their unmet dreams through their child, he wants you not to fail in the areas he's already wrecked himself.
"Could I speak with you for a moment?"
Despite his grin still being there, his expression does a one-eighty. His forehead furrows, his shoulders tense, and the lights of his eye sockets dim to the point where they're almost gone. As if a toy running out of batteries, his entire body language collapses into a lackluster state.
"i'd say no, but i don't think i have much of a choice here."
He steps aside, so you do the same.
"You're also… relatively new here, aren't you? I-"
"yeah, no. hold on."
Your face grows cold from how harsh he's cut you off, though you admit partial guilt when you reflect on the situation from his perspective: a human with messed up mascara and clothes still damp from the rain approaching him early in the morning while he's likely got some important business to tend to at the library.
"to be frank, i don't trust what you're doing here," Sans says, after a while of silence and him staring you up and down. "maybe the mayor welcomed you here, but i don't," he elaborates, resting his back against the wall. "what's it to ya? kris's been the only other human living here for long enough. and suddenly, you show up saying you're gonna be a substitute teacher and try to follow up to where a famous historian left off?" He sneers. "i don't care if you were interrogated before showing up here like this. you smell like unchecked trouble from a mile away." Then, he winks. "and that trouble smells like burnt pancakes, cheap perfume, and wet dog."
You feel a tug on your skirt and glance down to see Frisk is asking for you to lift them.
"and then you also show up with a kid. three's a crowd, ya know? dunno who's saying it's fine to bring a whole buncha humans over to a monster neighbourhood, but-"
You slip Frisk's baseball cap off, then look back at the skeleton and frown.
The moment he sees bunny ears poke out, he shuts right up.
"I didn't come here by choice," you state, refusing to let your voice waver. "Believe me, had I known dating a monster would've brought this much trouble, I would've stayed single."
Bitterness stings your tongue, and you can feel your eyes burn with tears you're firmly against letting fall.
"Since you insist on poking into my personal life so quickly, my husband was a bunny monster. He passed away almost two years ago, there weren't enough resources for us to pay the bills back at our old place, and Mayor Holiday suggested we move here. Do you understand my situation now, or do I need to explain it brick by brick?"
He remains quiet.
"I won't bother asking you anything anymore after this, so… Could you tell me Alphys's schedule? I've been meaning to call her, but I ran over my phone this morning, and…" You huff. "And I lost her number, 'cuz all my notes fell in a puddle."
"bad day, huh?"
You smile.
Despite his recent antagonism, his tone's changed considerably to make that question, as if he's set aside the two topics.
"You know when you're in a hurry, and that's when the slowest drivers possible show up in front of you? Well, that happened, too. And I wasn't even late, either. Turns out I got here three hours early."
He chuckles, walks to the entrance, and opens the door.
"wanna follow me? i gotta return a book, but we can talk after I'm done."
"Could we? I, um, should probably shower first, 'cuz you said I smelled like wet dog and… Well, it's just not pleasant, isn't it? I'll be back in a few minutes, once Frisk and–"
You cut yourself off and turn around, remembering you've forgotten to pick up Frisk as they were asking you to.
They're gone.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
In a panic, you turn back toward Sans.
…And come across Frisk sitting over his head, grinning and giggling, while you frown and huff.
"Get down from there," you exclaim, though there's really no reason for you to be shouting, as you're taller than both them and Sans combined. "And let's go! I need to do a few things before we go to the library."
"Can't I stay with him while you're done?"
they sign, mouth pouted and eyes puppy-eyed.
"We can unpack later!"
"No, you can't," you reply, glaring at them. "Now…" You grab them from Sans's head and prop them over your shoulders for a piggyback ride. "Stay put, and don't you
dare
scare me like that again."
Fifteen more minutes of walking and Frisk's whining, and you're starting to feel like you don't need to exercise anymore than you have this week throughout the whole moving process.
Nor go to church to confess any sins, because it's been a long trip, and there aren't any stop signs or red lights to help you catch a break and regain peace.
The second you enter your new home – with your shoes kept on, a face mask worn, and coat thrown over the nearest (and cleanest) flat surface – you feel your body weaken and your head hurt. The apartment's dim and dusty, and there are several shadows by nooks and crannies you fear are all sorts of insects and critters waiting for you to move stuff around to attack. All the discounts you received before accepting the offer make more sense the further you look around, and what tops it off is the window you break as soon as you brush the slightest bit with it to try opening it, air as stifling as your surroundings. Even so, there's one good thing you can say about this so far: there aren't any weird stains or bad smells around – only signs of old age and neglect. Other than that, you figure a little sweeping, dusting, mopping, and scrubbing will get most of your problems solved.
"Do I actually smell like wet dog, dear?" you ask, looking toward Frisk. "You would've told me, wouldn't you?"
As if they haven't caused enough panic already, Frisk is crouched in a corner of the living room, feeding half of a cheese stick from their lunchbox to a mouse.
They nod and look toward you, signing,
"You smell like wet earth. It's nice. I like it."
"Smelling like mud isn't a good thing!"
"Not mud. Earth."
Like child like mother, you pout, hands clenching and forehead wrinkling when you can't find a way to win against that logic.
"That's the
same
thing."
"No, it's not."
You warn them to stop playing with the mouse – to no avail.
Instead, they return to the topic about how 'earth' smell is different from 'mud' smell, and how they don't mind cuddling up to you when smelling like the former of the two.
You at least give them props for being so passionate about those seemingly subtle differences – and for being cautious with their fingers while feeding the mouse, as well as for
not
choosing to poke around an unclean house.
"Either way, not everyone likes that smell. Could you tell me next time?"
They nod.
…And proceed to continue feeding the mouse, despite your now second warning of how dangerous that is, no matter the precautions they've taken.
Knowing it's a lost battle, you take a second to write down
'schedule discipline lessons'
on your impromptu to-do list, rewritten on the back of an advertisement for not-so cheap perfumes. And while you're a hundred percent sure there's stuff you've forgotten from the original list on your broken phone and drenched notebook, it's better than starting from zero, and you're just glad your memory hasn't failed you
that
badly yet. At the very least, you've written down the essentials for this week, and that should be enough for now.
Maybe you
will
forget something super important, but that's a problem for another day.
"Don't waste your snacks like that," you scold, crouching in front of the nearby pile of boxes in search of the one marked with 'toiletries'. "We don't have time to go grocery shopping today, and I'm sure there aren't any places like that nearby."
"There's a pizza place, a diner, and Sans owns that grocery store across the street, but I think it's closed today,"
Frisk replies, grinning.
"I'm sure he'll let you in early if you're nice enough. Or I can try to sneak in."
Their ears perk as they giggle.
"Or we can wait until it opens, and eat pizza today!"
You search through the organized mess for a towel, soap, shampoo, perfume, sanitary pads, roll-on deodorant, and toilet paper, plus cleaning cloths and disinfectant products from a different box labelled with 'cleaning supplies' when reminded of how much work is due.
And once you check all that out of your mental list of things you will need simply for a quick shower, you close both boxes and pick them up – toiletries above the cleaning supplies.
"We can talk about that later," you say, standing up. "I'm, um… I'm gonna leave the bathroom door open, just in case…"
"In case you see a spider or something. I know, mom."
Sighing, you brace yourself for a quick clean up, yet – for once in this entire day – you're pleasantly surprised to see the bathroom's the cleanest place, brick rubble, soap scum, and liner mildew the three biggest enemies to deal with, and these can be dealt with
later
.
Currently, you simply want that 'earth' smell gone from your body.
"Don't open the door for anyone unless I tell you to. Got that?" you call out, setting the boxes down next to the shower, keeping just enough distance so as to not dampen them with stray drops.
From the same corner of the room they have been in since you arrived here, Frisk gives you a thumbs up.
They're now feeding a smaller mouse the second half of their cheese stick, though you accept that as another lost battle, plus a third (...Or fourth? You've lost count.) reminder of how you need to work with their behaviour in the near future.
"Be careful, alright? I'll be done in a few minutes. You can wash your hands when I'm done here… And when you're done playing with those mice."
They nod.
Finally, they stand up, stretch out, and sit on one of the cardboard boxes, kicking their legs back and forth as they wait.
"I won't move from here. Promise."
"I'll take your word for it, dear."
You step into the shower, legs shaking as you try not to look around too much at the corners, walls, or ceiling – because it's more than likely the moment you do, you'll see the biggest, hairiest spider you'll ever meet in your entire damn life.
"oh, hey. welcome back," Sans says, when you enter the library. His attention falls on your limp leg and steady walk toward the nearest wall you can grab onto, pressing your back against it for support. "what happened?"
Frisk lets you go and runs off to the bookshelves, leaving you to fend for yourself. You'd told them you didn't need their help to cross the street, so you really can't blame them for this now. You rejected their offer, though they persisted in holding your hand on the way here, and that's enough of a reminder that you should stop rejecting that help, then complain about their energetic behaviour seconds later.
"I thought I saw a spider in the shower," you reply, lips forming a firm line – the type of expression that says:
'I don't know what I expected, thinking that would go well'
. "I sprained my ankle… trying not to fall after I got scared." A forced laugh accompanies your attempt at a smile. "And when I checked to see what it was, it was just a clump of hair and thread stuck to the wall."
"lemme see."
While you're aware he crouches to get a better look at your injury, it still feels uncomfortable to have him this close. Worse yet, there's the urgent need to pull your skirt back when his forehead brushes against it, although you fear that would only bring more attention to the fact he's
that
close to begin with. You're left with no other choice but to stand awkwardly as he checks your ankle. The library's as quiet as it's empty, and the only sounds around are of the librarian typing letter by letter and Frisk turning a page every few seconds. So, it goes without saying this only makes you want to escape from your situation more.
"looks like you've got a bad bruise already," Sans states, his face covered by your dress – another thing that makes you wish you really hadn't been such a scaredy-cat a few minutes ago, and maybe then you wouldn't be in this situation: having a guy you barely know kneeling in front of you to tend to a stupid injury. "don't you wanna get yourself checked at the hospital?"
And now you've done it.
As soon as that last word's processed by your already tired mind, you remember you've forgotten the most important thing of all.
Your wallet.
"Oh, no…"
You grab your scalp and huff, facing down to avoid crying.
"I…"
Your throat closes up, and – by this point – you don't care anymore, ironic as it is with how much you've panicked.
The world's spinning, and your stomach hurts.
"I… I left my wallet at home.
Outside!"
You stand up straighter and try to lower your voice, while Sans steps back and fixes himself up.
The last thing you want is to cause a scene on your very first day here – not like you'll ever
want
to cause any sort of scene here, either way.
"My credit card,
five-hundred
dollars, and… And the ID I'm supposed to show to the Mayor today! When my phone fell, my- my wallet must've…"
Before you can deflate like a helium balloon with a hoarse voice, you feel something nudge your shoulder, and you lower your gaze to see Sans is offering you a phone –
his
phone, you assume.
"call somebody," he says, handing it over. "i'm sure a friend or a neighbour must've seen it. maybe they can ship it to you or drive here? you can sweeten it up by inviting 'em over for dinner or something." He grins. "oh, uh… you're actually crying now, huh? gimme a moment."
Cracking and popping noises follow as he says that, and when you blink through the stream of tears, you see he's stretching his bones out.
"i'll take you to the hospital, and then when they treat your ankle, we can get some food at the diner nearby. i can lend you my phone, so you can call the mayor, too, and just straight up tell her you're not having a good time. and that you can't meet her today – that you're sorry and all that, but you hurt yourself and stuff."
Sans turns around and holds his hands out behind his back, waiting.
"...I'm
much
bigger than you."
He seems unfazed.
"and?" he asks.
"I'll crush you," you reply.
"fine by me." He winks. "good way to go, actually."
He looks toward Frisk, who's been reading books since you got here.
"hey, kid," he calls out, gaining their attention. "you okay being here for a lil' while? gotta take your mom to the hospital."
They lift their nose from the book to nod and give a thumbs up, signing,
"Told her so, but she said she was fine and walked faster to get here", before going back to reading.
"I can walk," you exclaim, when Sans attempts to drag you forward for the piggyback ride. "Stop that!"
"don't wanna."
Smack!
You push him aside, though it hurts much more than you care to admit – and that leads you to realize he's still mostly bones, despite being able to talk and move.
"Let. Go."
"sheesh, alright then."
He looks far too amused as he stares at the hand you're subtly trying to rub the pain away from.
"gonna get that hand checked, too?"
"I don't think I can even
go
anywhere but home, so it's fine. And… And I don't have my medical insurance card with me – cuz that's in my wallet, too!"
A sigh denotes your surrender.
You say nothing and storm out of the library.
And by 'storm out', it means you ever so slowly limp toward the exit, ankle hurting more and more with each step.
He opens the door for you and steps back.
"piggy?" he asks, chuckling.
"No piggy," you reply, huffing.
"Well, okay." He closes the door again and points toward where Frisk's at. "I'll go ahead and look for a first aid kit. You stay here, unless you wanna follow me to my place."
"You don't have to-"
"i've got a balcony, so I can treat you there. it's a longer walk, but we can have this done faster, and I won't charge you." He winks. "until you get your wallet back, of course."
He again gestures for you to hop on his shoulders.
"last chance for a ride, if you wanna come with."
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
"does it hurt less?"
Just as it was awkward having him kneel in front of you to check your ankle, it's just as uncomfortable having to sit still while he treats the injury, ticklish body leading you to squirm and being alone with him forcing you to hold that feeling back.
Perhaps you're at the balcony, but the streets are empty, and you figure they'll stay that way until school and work end.
"...are ya doin' okay? you've been quiet for a while now."
Though you know he's asking you
questions
and that questions require
answers, nothing comes out – not a word, and not a whine. Your throat has closed up, and any attempt at saying something results in your heart racing until it hurts. Either that, or your voice breaks, and all that exits is a mumble.
"hey," Sans calls out, the change in his tone compelling you to look at him. "i'm sorry about-"
He cuts himself as his phone rings, and once he answers, he holds it out for you.
"frisk."
You take the phone and press it close to your ear, sighing.
"...Yes, dear?"
You hear hustle and bustle from the other line: teenagers shouting and laughing, a few teachers telling them to be quiet, loud and quick footsteps, and sneakers screeching against the floors.
"Cuz I know you're busy and stuff… Could I stay at Miss Toriel's place?"
"Your teacher's home?"
It's surprising to have them speaking so fluidly like this when you assume they're at a place far from peaceful, so you take that as a positive thing; despite everything, they seem comfortable wherever they're at, and that's good enough for now.
"Yeah! I met her kid, and they didn't mind when I asked them if I could…"
You don't realize what's happening until you feel a hand against your back and have the phone taken away.
You've grown light-headed – more so than when you were showering. And with the tendency to mindlessly walk around while you answer a call, you'd been slowly leaning to the side and headed well on your way to the floor,
hadn't
you been unintendedly assigned a personal bodyguard today.
Sans grabs your arm, though he quickly lets you go as soon as you return to a stable posture.
Then, he checks the ongoing call and presses the phone to where his ear canal is.
"hey, kid," Sans says, huffing. "you met your teacher already, didn't you? miss toriel?"
You hear a quiet response from the other line.
"your mom's caught a fever, so just keep doin' what you were doin'. you'll be fine. you've got some cash with you, don't ya? have it handy, in case ya need it for food or somethin'."
"Sans," you shout, when he plans to hang up. "What are you doing?!"
Standing up again results in twice the amount of wooziness hitting your face like a punch with no gloves.
You swallow nausea and bring a hand to your forehead, letting out a pained huff.
"alright, so… sit down."
"Don't tell me what to–"
A wobbly world forces you to keep quiet and do as he says.
"ya see that? just listen up and lemme help you."
He sits on the chair next to yours and lays back.
"so, you've been on an empty stomach since… two in the morning, i take it? y'got rained on, and now, you've sprained your ankle."
You nod, not really sure what to say or do.
"part of that's my fault, i'll admit – shouldn't've said you smelled bad, when… you really didn't. musky, maybe, but not 'wet dog' bad." Sans closes his eye sockets and sighs. "and cuz i didn't read the mood well, you responded with a shower that led to, uh… this," he says. He points at your ankle despite keeping his eye sockets being kept closed, and his skull faces forward rather than next to you, actions matching with the defeated tone in his voice. "i screwed up on that one, so i'm gonna try to make it up to you by… making your day less awful, instead of contributing more to it. ya feel me?" He opens his eye sockets to grab his phone again and stare at the screen for a while. "wherever frisk is, i'm sure they're fine. they, uh, walked off to school, from what they told me. and based on how little stuff goes on in the neighbourhood, i doubt somethin' bad'll happen."
"I can't just leave them alone like that!"
"we can go over to the school to see what they're up to, but in your current state, you'd be better off calling their teacher and telling her about all this."
You're barely convinced by anything he's said so far, though you're hardly in any position to be fighting against his suggestions. You don't feel too well, and you could certainly use a trip to the hospital, but you thoroughly refuse to, given the circumstances. Having a guy you've only known for two days carry you off to his home to treat your ankle is one thing. Asking him to carry you off to the hospital and cover your bills while you recover your wallet is another. You don't want to owe Sans, and much less do you wish him to pity you. The best you can do's try to bargain for something to eat and hopefully gain some energy to walk back home.
"mind eatin' some veggie stew?" he asks, putting his phone away. "i can whip that up in a few minutes, and you can rest until then. for now, lay down and sit still."
With how earnest and calm he sounds, it's hard to take him seriously – a paradox you don't have time to think about with how much everything hurts.
"...You don't have to do this."
"it's either that, or i'll buy you somethin' at the diner. no buts or backies, cuz i'm sure you'll pass out if ya keep on like this. so… stew or diner food?"
A debate between which of those is the lesser of two evils forms in your mind.
You choose stew? He has to cook and use his own groceries to make it.
You choose diner food? He has to pay and walk there to get it.
The latter seems like the best choice, considering you can repay him twice as much in the future – if and when you get your wallet back.
"I'll pay you later, so…"
"stew it is."
He stands up.
"W- Wait. No!"
And gives you his phone again.
"read this while i cook. it's from frisk."
Sans told me ur not feeling good, so… I went to the school to check it out and met my teacher!!!
I told her he told me you're not feeling good, and she was like: Oh dear! Well… Would you like to stay over? You could meet my child. I am sure you will both get along! Why, were it not for your ears, I would have mistaken you for them when they were younger!
And that happened so…
Have fun… getting better… with… the guy who said you smelled like wet dog
I guess??? 🤨
Sounds… unfun.
Btw
He told me he was sorry and that you didn't actually smell like wet dog.
I want to punch him!!!!!
...Gently.
But still punch him!!!!!!!!
Make him apologize to you
If he hasn't already.
Anyways, love you n see you later
<3
A new message pops up right as you lock the phone, though you doze off, limbs growing numb.
The scent of spices lingers as you close your eyes, and your breaths steady when you allow yourself to fall asleep.
There's the sound of the phone ringing again, yet it grows distant, and the last thing you hear is Sans's voice, quieter than usual as he picks up.
"yeah, i'll check. thanks for telling me, kid."
A chuckle – soft and airy.
"owe ya one."
"low blood sugar," you hear Sans say, his voice the perfect example of 'Are you kidding me right now?'
"...no wonder."
You feel something press your index finger, then hear a beep.
"low oxygen, too." He chuckles. "a little more, and you're a walkin' corpse."
Out of all the points in this situation where you could have woken up, you assume this has to be one of the worst ones, yet that's admittedly not much of a surprise with how the day's went so far. Hard and vaguely warm fingers slip your shirt off, though when these brush against your bare stomach, they're much,
much
colder. It's too awkward of a moment to open your eyes, so you continue pretending like you're still asleep. The task heightens in difficulty when you're fed sugar water, unable to figure out just how loose you should allow your body to be. And to make matters worse, being ticklish comes with the torture of having gentle touches send you into a giggling frenzy – something you're forced to hold back as he throws on a dryer, warmer shirt, then fixes your head and neck to a better position.
"you know it's obvious you're awake, right?" he says, and you can almost imagine his face: eye sockets squinted and grin cheekier than normal. "just cuz you're human doesn't mean i don't know how you work, pal."
He presses a hand over your chest when you try to sit up straight.
"not sayin' this so you stand up. not a good idea to open your eyes, either. just sayin' ya could've said somethin', instead of displaying how bad of an actress you are and how bad of a poker face you've got."
"How do you have all this stuff?" you ask, choosing not to play along. You do, however, try your best to do as told: no eye opening and no standing up, despite how much your mind insists.
"grocery store," he replies. "figured i'd stock up on human necessities, cuz, ya know, kris lives here and all. and now you, too, so… guess the extra inventory's worth it more than i thought it would. monster necessities, also – in case you're lookin' for actual fur shampoo for your kiddo, instead of, ya know, the other stuff." He rubs a thumb under your earlobe, while the rest of his fingers go under your chin, lifting it. "open your mouth."
You do as told, then feel a glucose tablet slip in.
"now chew, and try to fall asleep again. i'll be back in a few."
"Wait," you call out, feeling the bed lift with the absence of his weight.
His footsteps come to pause, and the bed creaks, lowering once more.
"yeah?"
"Where are we?"
"uh… my bedroom."
"And what time is it?"
"around three thirty."
He stands up.
"frisk's already made friends with… half of the neighbourhood by this point, i think, so they're gonna invite some friends over to your place tomorrow to help you out."
There's the sound of footsteps and the door opening.
"they'll stay at their teacher's place tonight, and you'll stay at mine. my brother won't be back until a lil' while, so i'll take up his room, and you'll stay here."
More footsteps, then the door closing and opening.
"by the way," he says, sounding farther away. "the stew's in the fridge. you can heat some up on the stove, and there's a microwave, too."
"Um… Thank you."
"don't mention it."
The door closes, and the footsteps stop.
You figure you're alone now.
An unshakeable need to look at your surroundings hits you, though you know better than to worsen the situation by doing exactly what you've been told not to do. But you reach a compromise: take a peek at what you're wearing, and that's it – maybe at the bed, also. It's only a
quick
peek, after all.
The first thing you see as you open your eyes is…
Fortnite patterned sheets, a bright blue Weezer t-shirt sprawled at a corner of the bed, and a large ICE-E plushie abandoned at another corner of the bed.
Then, you look down to see what you're wearing, and it's…
A t-shirt with 'Parole Baby' written at the center, neon green and red words contrasting greatly with the pink and orange fabric.
You look to your left and see…
Another shirt, this one with more placid colours: light blue and dark blue, though with 'CHEST WORDS' written on it.
You look to your right and see…
A glass of water, a bottle of isopropyl, and a packet of acetaminophen.
Finally, you look behind you at the bed's headrest and see…
Your bra hanging out.
And you call that a night, hitting the sheets again and ignoring your burning face.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The first thing you see as you wake up the next morning is…
You're not even sure, exactly.
There's a shapeless blob for a stuffed animal over your chest — sort of like a Ditto, but not quite.
Until you realize it's both backwards and upside down, and then it turns out to be the ICE-E plushie once at the corner of the bed.
How it got here, you're not too sure of.
"you're finally awake," Sans says, stepping into the room after a while of you looking around, and him returning from… what you assume is a shower?
Because he has a towel wrapped around him, and you most certainly doubt having gone down any sort of spicy routes yesterday with what happened.
"started to think maybe you'd fallen into a coma, or that i failed as your doctor," he adds, chuckling. "guess not."
"Um…"
When you've finished gathering a few of your bearings, every part of you hurts — your forehead, chest, arms, legs…
Everything.
"if you can't talk right now, it's fine."
Sans retrieves a full set of clothing from the nightstand nearby, then throws it over his shoulder and steps back.
"i can leave you alone for a lil' longer, if ya need me to."
"It's– It's okay. But… Thank you." You sigh. "I shouldn't be like this... Not being able to talk to you after you've done so much for me. It's…"
No matter your protest, words fail you as you try to overcome the tightness in your throat and the mess of your mind. You've no doubt overstayed your welcome since waking up yesterday evening and eating the full meal he'd prepared for you. Hell, you weren't even welcomed here, in the first place. You'd fallen ill at a near stranger's home, and he'd taken proper care of you until the next day. He's done more than enough, and quite beyond, too — a fact highlighted by your observations yesterday. One of these was coming to terms with a more than absurd reality you still refuse to accept: having had him undress you to deal with your comatose, feverish state, judging by the brassiere you'd seen hanging out and the fresh change of clothes he'd changed you into. Had he a partner or anything of the sort, you would be in dire need of explaining what you were doing, occupying the room like that and having him look out for you to such extents.
But, then again, you're laying on a twin bed with colourful sheets, and that should be sufficient of an insinuation that Sans lives alone... or only with his brother, at least.
You clutch the back of your neck and hide your face between your knees, huffing in an attempt at letting your chest loosen a little, and hoping to ease the unbearable sensation of having both old and new troubles press down on your thumping skull.
"Thank you for taking care of me yesterday, Sans," is the only thing you manage to say after a while.
"no problem."
By the time you've said that, he's already dressed up.
And that means either you waited too long to speak up, or that he was fast in returning to the bathroom and putting those clothes on; being so distracted with your doubts, it could even be both of these combined.
He sits next to you, so you deem it your mission to fix yourself up better in bed and leave more space for him.
"it's the least i could do to make up for what i said yesterday."
Either Sans genuinely doesn't seem to have acknowledged your inability to hold up a conversation with him, or he's chosen not to comment on the matter.
"now... before we go anywhere, lemme do a quick check-up sorta thing."
The second he scoots closer, warning sirens sound in your mind, and you both move and look away, self-consciousness forcing you to keep more distance than you would prefer to.
"Could I freshen up first? I feel like I sweat a lot during the night, and…"
He grins.
"feelin' stinky?"
You frown.
"...Yes."
Almost an hour later, you've showered, brushed your teeth after mistakenly asking if you could borrow some toothpaste — resulting in him bringing you a spare toothbrush along with it — and dressed up with the 'CHEST WORDS' shirt he'd left as an extra, paired with some baggy blue pants and — embarrassing as it may be — a pair of men's underwear he'd stated were new, all while pointing at the freshly opened package, plus the bra you'd seen hanging over the headrest, washed and dried.
You've barely gotten over the dreadful, persistent reminder that he had to undress you yesterday, and now, you're forced to stay still and avoid eye contact as he checks your temperature, oxygen pulse, and blood sugar levels. The last one is easy enough to endure, but the rest had been an awkward hell, first by being forced to look as he placed his palm against your forehead and waited there for a while, the lack of an adequate measuring tool making it a more tedious process. And then, the pulse check had been the most hellish of all, with your hand almost grazing with his and you trying not to show stress by controlling your trembling body. That last one had to be done
twice
even, with how bad that shaking was. But he didn't say anything about it, so you silently hope he either has patience in abundance, or he's had prior experiences similar to this one.
Safely said, it's been a journey, and you're more than ready to wrap it up.
"all good," Sans says, when he's done with the check-up.
"Great," you exclaim, smiling like you're
definitely
not tempted to zoom out of the room and hide away in the comfort of your own bed, the second Sans either so much as looks the other direction or leaves entirely. "I'll just… move along and make my way–"
"hold up. i gotta give you somethin' first."
He exits the bedroom, and you're left to wait for the next few minutes.
You breathe out and let your mind find some semblance of peace while he's back.
"here ya go."
His return is quicker than expected, though at least you've achieved being alone with your thoughts for what… felt like a minute or two.
And may the heavens bless his soul, because — incomparable to a family member who's known you for longer — he immediately notices you're uncomfortable, and he further waits until you adjust yourself better in bed.
When you've recovered some more, you take the water bottle he offers you, along with two large pills from an unlabeled, blank jar, these he states will help with the fever.
"Are you tryna drug me, honey?" you ask, nudging his shoulder. "Cuz those sure don't look like regular painkillers, if I'm gonna be honest."
"think about it real good," he replies, cockiness in his tone. "why would i go outta my way to drug someone who's already been unconscious before? woulda taken that chance, if that were the case."
He places a hand over your shoulder, making you stare down to see stern irises, plus a faintly humoured smile.
"sorry for being an ass yesterday. shoulda been more attentive to what you were going through; what you were here for. and maybe i woulda helped you out better that way."
Though disoriented and a tad bit suspicious at the lack of a label, you inspect the oddly-shaped, strangely-coloured pills one last time, then sniff them just to be certain, and — once and for all — gulp them down with the water, only after also making sure it hadn't been opened prior to being given to you.
"all good? i can take you straight home, if you still don't trust me."
You nod.
Sans stands up and gestures for you to come along.
"but before we go, i think there's somethin' you should know."
The subtle, almost gentle uneasiness in his voice makes you sit up straighter and stare directly at him.
"What is it?" you ask, when he doesn't push forward.
"well…" he replies, rubbing the back of his neck. "frisk kinda… used me as a venting vessel while you were recoverin', and some stuff kinda slipped out. not sure if you'd wanna hear about 'em or not."
You stay seated, mind processing the weight of those words.
"Like what?" you press on, feeling cold despite the thick clothing worn.
"your, uh, former husband." He trails off for a second, pacing back and forth across the room. "and about hunting trophies, creepy neighbours, and the like."
Sans could say less, and you would still understand what he means with that.
And he seems fully aware of that by how he avoids your gaze.
"I'm not about to trauma dump on you when we barely know each other, and when I'm pretty sure you saw me naked yesterday, so…" You smile, then toy with your borrowed shirt's sleeves and collar. "I had a neighbour who was a little too curious about monster, um… monster biology? And who found a way to– to trophy a part of my husband, without turning him to dust."
You huff, breath caught in your chest.
"Then I made the mistake of charging at that neighbour, practically wrestling them down when I saw what they were doing, and… The rest is complicated."
You tighten your jaw and glare at nothing in particular.
"Long story short, after what happened… Frisk can't bear to look at their own feet ever since, so when they don't have shoes on, they slip on some socks with their eyes closed and hands shakier than mine when I tried confronting that person."
Finally, you stand up, wobbling and swaying just a bit, though you're able to stabilize yourself shortly after.
"And that's… the gist of the gist of it," Your eyes burn, your mouth sours, and your heart twists, but you ignore that to clear your throat and return a touch on his shoulder. "Do you like hugs?"
"not against 'em."
"...May I?"
"sure."
Sans laughs, then stretches his arms out, and so you slip yours around his back, pulling him against you.
"You're warm," you say.
"and you're soft," he replies.
"Is it okay if I hug you for a little more?"
You feel him nod against your neck, his head resting above your shoulder.
"Um… By the way…"
"yeah?"
Happy for a possible change of subject, you hug him tighter, then let him go.
"How much do I owe you? For being my replacement doctor, I mean."
"nothin'."
He tries to leave the room, though you stop him by grabbing his arm tight and tugging him back.
"Please. Your help shouldn't be left unrewarded."
"some coffee at the diner, if you're gonna be like that."
"But–"
"that's all."
His grin tenses, and he looks at you like he's contemplating a bad idea.
"i don't wanna be rude, but… i gotta say it." Sans meets your eyes, a frown in his irises. "yeah, i saw you half-naked, and i didn't really care. like you said… you were my patient, at the time, but then you were also a neighbour in an emergency i had the chance of helpin' out, and that's that. if you're worried 'bout me taking your clothes off and dressing you up, you can rest easy knowin' i pictured you more as a patient than the latter."
He offers his hand out and winks.
"anyway, let's shake on it. a cup of coffee for all the trouble. deal?"
His hand nudges itself forward when you look at it for a while, and you're prompted to close off distance and place your palm over his.
"deal."
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
You return to your apartment with a clouded mind and existential dread clawing at your stomach, churning breakfast around like it's going through a twister.
But then you open the door and step in to be greeted by a neat and tidy living room, and that dread is overcome by surprise.
Though neither Frisk's new friends nor they themself seem to be home – further confirmed by the shoe rack having your sandals on it only – there's a sticky note on a coffee table explaining they've gone out to meet more neighbours. And with your worry over where they could be dissipating, you take this opportunity to look at the changes more closely. The living room, while still relatively unfurnished, has been freed from dust bunnies and cobwebs – even the floor looks to have been mopped. Aside from that, the coffee table isn't yours, and that leads to a question you would need to ask later. Then, there's a pair of bean bags that are also not your property, and you make a quick mental checklist to ask about that later, too.
For now, you want to lie down on one of those two seats and rest your thoughts for a while. One's bright yellow and patterned with ducks all over. The other's a brighter pink, with a dark red plaid pattern for contrast. It's safe to say the right choice would be the one that clearly
doesn't
look like it belongs to an elementary schooler, yet… It's the one that looks most comfortable. Regardless, you resist, as it's not like you're going to be resting for long. You need to see how much Frisk and their friends cleaned up and what there's left for you to do. Groceries would be one of the main things on that mental checklist, though…
You find it hard to believe you've been given free groceries to prepare today's dinner.
"If you wanna feel less guilty about me taking care of you, then you should avoid going anywhere today. Rest up and do what you need to do tomorrow,"
Sans had stated before you left his place, placing the bag in your hands and seeing you off – like you've known each other since ages ago.
And now that you have time to look at what's inside, you plop down on the less comfy-looking bean bag and pull out the first thing you touch.
You take everything out and distribute the items on the coffee table. Then, you analyze the ingredients: white rice, canned vegetables, vegetarian sausage links, various spices, cooking oil, and a bag of red apples. At the bottom, there's two mini, ready-made cherry pies, along with a note reading:
"i asked frisk what they wanted for dinner. bone appetit. have them help you cook, and don't do anything else after that. unless you wanna borrow another shirt. you'd have to wear the one that says 'helpful meatballs' next."
And there's that.
As if you haven't yet accepted the fact a practical stranger has seen things you have shown no one else but your husband since being widowed, you have to accept you've been given more help than you could possibly give in return.
You sincerely doubt Sans still feels like he needs to make up for what he said, so you check your bank account balance on your phone, calculating a tentative budget to pay him back somehow. Separating at least ten or twenty would be a likely good enough amount for now, and then maybe you could simply tip him whenever you go to his grocery store –
if
he even lets you in after what he's gone through. Though you admit to being spiteful every so often, burdening someone to such degrees doesn't match with whatever plans for revenge you had in mind. Ignoring him or deflecting remarks like the one he'd made to you yesterday would've been your choice – and
not
having him act as your doctor by obligation. Facing him tomorrow to properly thank him will be difficult, as so will be actually finding him a gift to thank him with.
"You go first."
"No, you."
There are voices near the living room's entrance – one you recognize as Frisk's, whereas the other is unknown.
"Wh- YOU'RE the one who lives here!"
"But… But what do I say?
"The truth, duh!"
With the door left unlocked, it seems like a shock to Frisk when they turn the knob around and see you sitting not a few feet away from where they are.
And in that shock, they step back and slam the door shut.
"She heard me!"
There's a groan in complaint from the other person, and then the door opens again.
A purple monster stares at you, her eyes wide and stance stiff. There's sweat on her brow, and her gaze jumps from you to the door behind her. Her mouth opens, as if she plans to speak up, yet…
She turns around and storms out.
"Sorry, dude. You're on your own for this one!"
Rushed footsteps turn faint, and it takes a while until Frisk steps inside, the door left open by the previous visitor.
"Tell me what happened, sweetie," you say, biting back a smile. "It's okay."
They take off their shoes, leave these on the rack, and close the door, then rest their back against it. Their face fully lowers, droopy ears covering most of their gaze away, though not enough for you to not catch the tears going down their cheeks. It's difficult not to feel a soft tug at your heart at the sight of them like this. Nonetheless, you figure that by the reaction of what you assume is one of the people who helped them tidy your home, it's not as big of a deal as they think it is. Perhaps it's something silly. Or perhaps not. But in the end – silly, serious, or neither of those two – their well-being goes above what they're worried about.
"We…"
Though seemingly impossible, they're able to lower their gaze even further, and more tears are shed, matting their fur.
"...We broke your wedding ring, wh- when we were unpacking. One of the boxes fell, a- and then lots of tiny things spilled out. We thought we picked everything up, b- but then Susie stepped on a black square thingy, a- and-"
"It's alright."
Realistically, it does hurt to acknowledge one of your few reminders of your husband's been broken, yet… It doesn't really matter. It can be fixed, unlike any ties and trust you may break with Frisk or their friend for an accident.
"I'll take it somewhere to get it fixed," you state, smiling. "And if it's still in the box, it's likely still fine."
Frisk stays looking at the floor for what feels like a full minute, until that silence ends with them muttering, "...Are you sure?"
"Of course," you reply, chuckling. "What did you
think
was going to happen, huh? I'd turn into a witch and eat you and your and your friend?"
"N- No!" Their gaze lifts, their eyes widen, and they shake their head. "I, um… I thought you'd faint again, a- and that I'd have to ask Sans for help again!"
"Really?"
"Really!"
They hurry to your side and settle their hands over your shoulders.
Their expression changes to a stern one, and their grip on you feels like that of a concerned parent's grasp on a child when they've been hurt.
"He called you stinky!"
"You're still hung up about that?"
Their expression intensifies: brow heavily furrowed, eyes sharp and wild, and a deep frown forming as they analyze the calm you're displaying.
"...Yes."
They let you go, stand up straight, and cross their arms.
"And I don't wanna have him help you too much if he's gonna say stuff like that again."
For a moment, it feels like they're ready to leave the house and knock on their enemy's door to look for vengeance, yet their eyes soften as they glance behind them.
They walk off to the exit, slip their shoes back on, and open the door, revealing the purple monster – Susie – standing outside, her posture making it clear she's been caught.
"Uh… Hey," she says, waving at Frisk. "All good?"
Although you can only see their back, it's easy to know they're happy. Their ears have perked up, and they're bouncing on their heels. You stand up to view more, and notice they're doing grabby hands at the monster in front of them, waiting.
She hesitates, yet hugs them shortly, then grins and pats their back.
"Want me to tell Kris and others how it went?"
They nod once, then signal for her to wait and search in their pockets while she stands by.
"Payment for helping me move in."
"...Are you sure I can take it?"
"Obviously!"
Susie takes what she's offered: a handmade coupon for what appears to be 'Frisk and Mom's special dessert', as you assume from the drawing on the paper.
"We're making doughnuts next weekend, so you're invited!"
Frisk waves her off as she steps back.
"Can you tell the others about it?"
"Count on it."
She attempts to turn around, though she stops herself as you make brief eye contact.
"And, uh… Sorry about the ring, Frisk's mom! I'll…" She's sweating once more – and she avoids eye contact again at all costs. "I can… try fixing what I broke, if you want?"
You grin, then shake your head and wave her off.
"Thank you for helping us move in, dear."
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Nearly a week passes, and you haven't met with Mayor Holiday to validate your residence here for years to come.
Nor have you bought the ingredients for the get-together Frisk will be having with their friends.
Nor have you bought Sans a gift – not even begun to look for it.
You're far from where you need to be, and you would be farther away from all your responsibilities and debts if it weren't for all the help you received with unpacking. Your second meeting at the school had left you a nervous wreck, fear of messing up taking a heavy toll on your body the second you stepped out of the office. It's been one stressful thing after the other, and it's difficult not to feel powerless when you can barely manage through the smallest and basic things.
"have you gone to the hospital yet?" Sans asks, while you're busy deciding what type of cereal to bring home: either the cheap and sugary one Frisk loves, or the healthier alternative at a slightly higher cost.
Truthfully, you're not sure how to answer his question.
Because – if you're going to be wholly and utterly sincere with yourself – just how are you supposed to approach someone you've barely gotten to know properly, but who's already had to deal with things unfitting for a stranger?
There's no one around anymore, so you choose to believe he's specifically waited for the supermarket to be emptied in order to bring that topic up all willy-nilly.
"Um…" You distract yourself with the cereal box, staring at it with no intention of observing it. "No."
"did you get your healthcare sorted out, at least?"
"...Not yet."
It's then that being alone feels like a trap.
You can't bear having to go through a normal conversation with him.
"want me to give you a checkup?" he asks, winking. "you can buy me an extra drink or whatever, if you're still worried about paying back."
He's being… light-hearted about this, thankfully.
Had he a penchant for drama, you would imagine an entirely different outcome.
"Well, if it's alright with you…"
"wouldn't be bringing it up, otherwise."
You grant yourself a moment of peace by closing your eyes and releasing a heavy breath, a hand over your chest.
"Could we get to know each other better?" you ask, frowning. "After all that happened, it feels… strange, knowing I, well, know so little about you – that we've only just met, and I already owe you a lot. Maybe we could be friends? Or maybe… neighbours on hanging out terms?" You feel your back and palms shed a cold sweat. "Anything that makes this less awkward?"
A laugh slips by him.
"didn't think you'd still be hung up about last week, but, uh… sure." His gaze falls to the shopping cart. "are you gonna open up a bakery? you've got enough flour to make food for a whole village."
"Frisk is having some friends over this weekend," you state, choosing the healthier cereal. "You can come over, if you'd like. I'm planning to invite a few teachers, and any other person I've… managed to speak with a bit? It's weird, cuz I know I'm starting over, and it's only been a week, but…"
"feel like you're falling behind?"
"Yes, and…"
Considering his calm demeanour, you decide to be straightforward.
"I'd like to ask you something."
"go ahead."
You take another box – now the sugary one.
"Do you need help? Someone to clean up the store? Or… Or maybe close it? I'd really like to repay you for-"
"no."
He takes the box away.
"i never said you needed to do anything like that. you're gonna be workin' full-time at the school, aren't ya? you'll tire yourself out, and frisk won't get to spend time with you."
His gaze moves to the list in your hands.
"if you ever wanna stick around to talk when you're shopping here, be my guest, but i'm not about to demand any free labour from you."
"Why not?"
"that's a dumb question."
"I still want you to answer it."
"i can't pay you, and you closin' up the shop for me wouldn't be a good idea."
"I won't be starting until after winter break ends."
That seems to bring him to a stop, as he sets the box on the cart and looks away, sweat showing on his skull.
"uh… mind elaborating?"
"My license got revoked, and I need to wait until next semester to begin teaching."
You push the cart toward a different aisle, forcing distance between you.
"The mayor's aware of what happened, and… And she knows I would need a new job to make up for those changes, but… It would be part-time, and I would need to make some changes in my budget. If given the choice, I'd rather ease my mind off a debt, than look for another part-time job for a little more pay."
"i don't need help."
Sans looks at the cart, humming in thought.
"you, on the other hand, could use some."
He points a finger at your groceries, his grin broadening.
"tell me what you've got in there that's for you specifically."
You stare at where he points, mind going blank.
"Um…"
His irises light up.
"N- Nothing?"
"whaddya like snackin' on?"
His question leaves you stuck in place, and you find it hard to make eye contact now that you have an inkling as to what he plans to do.
You answer his question – twice, as he asks for at least two more things you like to eat – and he immediately responds by grabbing the snacks from an aisle.
"i'll bag this stuff for you," he says, nodding off to the checkout counter. "you can pay for the rest when you're done, and i'll give you that checkup at your place or mine – your choice."
You know when there's too much stuff going wrong at once?
That rocky start last week.
A meeting with the school, informing you of your revoked license.
Needing to be careful with your budget, now that you'll be working fewer hours.
And – presently – there's canned pasta sauce splattered on the newly-mopped floor, accompanied by glass shards and drops of blood.
It's not a lack of time or rest, this occasion.
It's the complete opposite.
With too much time on your hands now and the feeling of being unproductive slowly crawling onto your shoulders, there's that heavy sensation on your chest again.
You close your eyes and try looking for the positives.
The glass didn't fall into the food you're preparing.
And – with that – you can breathe just a little easier, even if the rest of the world feels like it's on full speed.
You look through the pantry for another jar, then act twice as carefully as before, opening it with a pop that further wrecks your nerves, though you still push through. You've only got a few finishing touches left, meaning there are lesser chances for you to screw up. The less you taunt your patience, the better.
You'll clean the mess up when you're done.
And the bleeding seems to have fully stopped with the bandage, so you're doing okay.
There's the ringing of your phone as you're chopping some vegetables, and the jolt your body makes on its own endangers you, though you act quickly now. You wipe your hands clean, then pick up the phone, not minding to check who it is. And it's not like you need to worry much about that, either, because your call history hasn't been all that varied since you moved here.
Your old neighbour – just to ask you about your missing wallet once, receiving it via express delivery, and never hearing from him again.
Then a bunch of:
Hometown Police Department
Hometown Mayor's Office
Hometown School
in a row.
The occasional: 'Alphys' or 'Toriel'.
And just one time: 'Sans'.
A missed call.
Left unaddressed.
"Hello?" you call out, at the lack of someone responding to you picking up.
There's uninterrupted silence for several seconds.
"Hello," the voice on the other line replies, their tone mellow. "Am I speaking with the new history teacher?"
"...Who is this?" you ask, turning off the stove.
"My apologies," they reply, muffled by the sound of papers ruffling.
You press your back against the wall.
"I'm speaking to you from Hometown's Hospital. There are some laboratory results ready for you to pick up today, if you're available."
"Wh- What?"
"You had some tests done the same day you moved here," they elaborate, the pace of their voice turning steadier – their tone quieter. "...I was called over and given directions to your neighbour's home. He said you were too unwell, and that – while you had specifically requested not going to the hospital – he still doubted you could manage without a proper medical examination. We are fully aware of confidentiality issues, but this was an emergency. Your… vitals were in a critical state, and when we talked to your child about it, they nearly broke into tears, though they still agreed to perform the tests."
Now you've done it.
"Again, I apologize, but… You would need to improve your health, if you wish to renew your teaching license."
You'd gone all the way to the meeting, foolishly thinking you'd be told when you would begin.
But, finally, it all starts making sense.
"You are lacking multiple nutrients, and your records show you have stopped taking treatment for your fibromyalgia."
At the sound of the door opening and Frisk saying they're home, you rush back to the stove and turn it on.
"That is only part of the results. Before you continue to teach, it's strictly necessary to improve your health, so that you may obtain an updated Medical Certificate."
You set the phone on speaker, leave it by the counter, and open a drawer, retrieving a pair of gloves. While slipping them on, you glance to the living room to see Frisk waiting, an impassive expression on their face. Sans stands behind them, a hangdog glint on his irises and the curve of his grin.
Frisk waves at you, then sits on their bean bag and signs they'll 'talk to you later' pointing with their head at Sans, as if stating what's more important right now.
You look to where they point, though – by the time you do – the monster in question has already made it to your side.
"hey," he says, placing a hand on your shoulder. "you know how when you're a kid, if you don't like somethin' on your plate, you get served more of it?"
"Uh… Yeah?"
"and you don't like to owe people or be taken care of, right?"
You nod slowly, lips straightening and an eyebrow raised.
He slips a dollar toward you with his free hand, gesturing for you to take it.
"go get yourself a lottery ticket, then, bud," he says, a strained chuckle promptly following his words. "cuz this kinda bad luck's damn worthy of a chance at you getting rid of your financial troubles."
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
You excuse yourself from the hospital call left on-hold, tell them you'll pick up the results later, and set the phone aside.
Then, you prepare yourself for whatever Sans plans to joke about next, though not before slipping the dollar he'd given you into one of his jacket's pockets.
"considering the closest clinic that knows how to care for humans is four hours away from here, i've been entrusted with your health, 'til you're back in good shape."
You're a teacher.
Meaning?
You had to pass Intermediate English to graduate.
So, why is it so damned difficult for that sentence to make even a shred of sense?
You try piecing each word as cautiously as you would with a puzzle of a thousand and one pieces. Denial makes it incredibly hard on its very own, but being aware of the inevitable makes it much worse. You don't want to be taken care of again, that's for sure. Once was plenty for a lifetime, and you would prefer if you didn't have to see the one responsible for that more than you would be seeing your child with each day, now that they'll be in school for most of the time while you'll be busy working elsewhere. Though Sans apologized for contributing to your rocky start and has acted kindly with you – ever since Frisk near forced him to – you're not ready for whatever this is.
"...What?" you blurt out, after a while of silence.
"i'm gonna be your doctor 'til you get better," he replies, mirth in his tone and irises. "and 'til the hospital who called you has space and resources to care for you properly."
"If this is a joke, then-"
"it's not."
You cross your arms, look away, and swallow your pride as you stare at your feet.
"...I hate this," you mutter, trying to stop yourself from saying anything else.
But with the last drop of poorly-brewed patience having evaporated a long time ago, you can't.
"I came here to start over, to give Frisk a better life, and yet… All this stuff happened – one after the other," you state, tearing up. "It wasn't supposed to be like this. This… wasn't supposed to happen." You stop yourself with a breath in and another out, hands shaking as you uncross your arms and stand up straighter. "I'm sorry I pulled you into this mess." You step closer toward him and grab his shoulders, pushing a smile. "I appreciate all you've done for us, but… I really can't ask you to be my doctor. I'll- I'll drive to that clinic you mentioned and-"
"that's not gonna happen.”
He stops you with a firm hand over the one you'd injured with the glass, the sting you feel as he takes the bandage off and presses your finger against his palm aiding in ending your rant.
"it's gonna be alright," he says, not a trace of humour present in his voice. "i get where you're comin' from, but that's not necessary."
He grabs your hand and stares at the wound.
"i'm guessin' it was a bad time to share the news with you, so, uh…" He chuckles. "let's discuss this later." His thumb presses against the cut, and you see his irises light up when you hiss in response to the pain. "...for now, lemme treat your finger a lil' better and help ya clean up the mess."
You step away, yet he tugs you forward.
"wait," he says, letting your hand go. "sit down over there. i'll be back in a second."
"...Where are you going?" you ask, your turn to stop him.
"i'm gonna look for a first-aid kit."
"I have one here."
At the realization you're beating around the bush, you hold his hand tight and make eye contact.
"Stay here," you call out, intertwining your fingers with his. "Please?"
It's obvious you're being clingy with someone you barely know, and yet…
You need someone to rely on – just for a little while.
"Since I'll see you more often, I'd… like to treat you to something nice, and… To be honest, I really want company right now."
"any
kind of company?"
"That's difficult to answer."
"Yeah, I'm… starting to feel like a third wheel, so I'm just gonna go ahead and run upstairs, mom."
It takes a moment to register that those words have come from Frisk.
Weren't there solely two more people present in your home besides yourself, you would've assumed someone had imitated their voice to poke fun at you.
"I'll leave you two alone for now, I guess."
Around an hour later, you're sitting at the edge of your bed, while Sans is kneeling in front of you, his gaze zeroed in on the faint bruises left on your ankle.
"you didn't follow the treatment i told you about, didn't you?" he taunts, grabbing your leg like he isn't just an inch away from peeking up your skirt – what with the angle he's currently at. "you've still got a bruise here."
"...I tried."
He stands up, then places a cold patch on your forehead.
"Stop- Stop looking at me like that."
He grins, then glances down at you.
"like what?"
"Like I'm a walking joke!"
"it's not that," he says, crouching again as his eye sockets narrow and his irises flicker. "i just think somethin' about you looks different today."
Oh, God.
If it weren't possible to screw up more, you remember you'd actively chosen to slip your bra off the moment you got home.
Meaning?
Shortly after he places a larger patch on each calf, you need to cover your chest when you shudder at how cold the next one he places on your neck is.
Crossed arms are your one and only salvation, and yet… It's not over.
He won't stop looking at you – as if he's lost something.
"you're a lil' puffy. like you've got some sorta allergy."
"I'm not-"
He checks your temperature again, and you feel awkward just sitting there all still with your arms crossed, so you stand up, take a step away from him, and turn around.
"...I'll be back soon."
"if it's about the lack of a bra, i already know about it."
He winks, while you're left with a drained look on your face.
"it was, uh, noticeable when i threw the first patch on your forehead, just less intense."
You cover your face and groan into your palms.
"End me now, dude," you huff.
He wheezes, though he still tries to cover it up with a cough.
"uh… there, there," he says.
And he pats your head like that's the most normal thing to do with someone he's already seen half-naked before this, so you push his hand away and glare at the floor.
"I'm sorry." Then, you frown. "I'm making this too awkward. I… I should've just gone to the hospital when I had the chance."
"you're a patient to me right now, so it's fine. don't beat yourself up over it."
So, you're getting…
Patient-zoned?
No biggie.
It's more than fine, if you consider you seriously don't wish to think about the other route yet, but…
Though you can't truly bring yourself to accept it, it's bumming to know he only sees you as that.
Yeah, yeah – It's a contradiction.
But you really just want to…
Get some.
…Yeah.
It's been almost two years since you last had anything serious with someone, so…
You can't deny you've felt certain urges, ever since a few months ago.
And that you've had trouble sleeping at night sometimes.
"Um…"
You look at the wall opposite to where Sans stands.
"Do you feel uncomfortable around me?"
"no," he says, letting out another laugh. "why?"
"Well, I'm just looking at things from your perspective, and… how you're still a man, despite, um…"
"you're wonderin' how i don't feel weird around you?"
When he comments that, both his hands fall on either side of your waist, pressing you right against the door you've attempted to escape toward – keeping you locked in place.
"that's kinda mean, ya know? sayin' i can't take proper care of you, just cuz i'm a man. hell, you don't even know me well enough to tell if i'm straight or not."
He leans in, his teeth sufficiently close for you to feel his breath on your lips.
"i find you attractive, i'll give you that, but… what do i gain from tryna get it on with a woman who's going through some stuff? someone who clearly needs the time to think about what she's gone through? the second you overcome all those things, you'll realize i took advantage of your situation, and then, well… you won't want anything to do with me."
While you're busy taking in those words, he's already leaning in, so you finish closing off that space for him to kiss you – his tongue quickly finding its place past your lips, bringing forth the taste of chocolate and mint. A hand barely grazes your chest, and you feel his body tense when you kiss back. It's a fleeting moment – gone by the time you process what's going on.
And when you do, he's back to normal with the usual grin on his face, and his usual posture, too.
"if given the chance, then… i wanna try earning your trust, once you get better."
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Hello.
Since this is the farthest this story was at the last time I posted it, I would like to be sincere and say that... I'm doubtful to keep posting any more updates.
How should I put it...
I feel like I just don't really write that good anymore? In general, as in... with the plot, characters, and overall writing quality and all that.
I've got like 3 more chapters ready to post but...
It's been difficult to push past that fact – in accepting that this is about the best I can do, and the farthest I'll go.
If you'd like to see more, be assured I'll try to push past this obstacle by this weekend.
And if not, then...
Just know that I might delete or orphan this story, depending on how this goes.
I'll give myself a time limit that will eventually decide whether I'll move forward or simply forget about what I've planned out.
Thank you for reading until here.
Take care!
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Hello!
Before going any further with this story, I've decided to post the chapters that are already written first, before making any final decisions.
The next chapter will be out on December, once I've tested the waters in terms of my new writing style by posting a new story, since I feel a major issue in these doubts have to do with how many changes have taken place, mainly regarding how I write and what I do with the plot and the characters.
For now, I'll be working on that new story starting this Wednesday! I'll be a test run of sorts, where I'll try to play around with the general ideas I had for both this story and Fairytale Complex (like found family, distrust, attempts at humor, slight spiciness, and that stuff you've read before, just... in a different style).
It'll be very very rough writing, but I've had a lotta fun with it, and I look forward to continuing it once I'm finished prepping for Thanksgiving.
Thank you for reading until here, and I'll see you in early December!
Take care. <3