Chapter Text
You’ve found yourself staring at a lot of doors today. Somehow, this one gives you more pause than all the rest put together. You’re not sure whether the absence of Papyrus’ car is a blessing or a curse. You enter the brothers’ house. Or...your house. You push it out of your mind for now. The stillness almost lulls you to think they’re both gone until you hear a telltale shuffling in the bedroom of the individual you could argue you love the most in this world.
“Babe?” you call out.
“in here,” Sans responds. His deep voice wraps you up safe and sound. You hope it will last. You pad over to his room and peer inside. He’s crouched in front of his dresser, almost elbow deep in shirts and pants, shuffling them around in a way you can’t entirely follow at first. He takes out some stacks and reorganizes the free space and you finally realize what he’s doing.
He’s making space for you.
You rest your head on the doorframe and a tender smile lifts your lips along with your soul. He turns and spots you in the doorway. His ensuing grin is so genuine it makes your heart throb.
He winks. “take a pic, it’ll last longer.”
“I like the real thing,” you tease right back, bolstered by his own light mood.
His chuckles roll from him. “that’s me, bone-afide goods right here.”
You cross the room and bend to kiss his humming skull. “My bonehead, for sure.” He grasps your hand and brings it to his toothy grin, planting a returned kiss to your knuckles.
“so, how’d it go?” he asks and returns to his work, relinquishing your hand. At least for now.
You sit on the edge of his bed to watch. Your now-free hands wring themselves in anticipation.
“It went well,” you reply, a vagueness drags from word to word. “Much better than I thought it would.”
Sans nods his head. “that’s good. told ya he’d be cool with it.”
“Yeah,” you laugh weakly. You take a shallow breath. Sans’ hands slow by the barest of margins and you think you see his skull angle a little more in your direction. He turns more towards you at your silence. His face reveals itself and it's full of concern.
“ya alright?”
You force yourself to take a deep breath now. “Yeah, baby. Just was nervous about it. But…I’m also excited.” That isn’t a lie. “This could be really good, I think.” An overwhelming need for his touch flows through you now, unbidden, unprompted, but so real and you reach for him, hands waiting. His resulting smile is so warm and he gets up to meet you. His hands clasp yours and pull you to him, embracing and folding you up in his arms. You sigh and relax fully into him.
Sans does the same. Your soul beats sweet and low against him. There’s the softest tremolo calling to him underneath, but he becomes deaf to it somewhat; this is the most at peace you’ve seemed to him since your attack. If this is what it takes for you to heal, he’ll be on your side a thousand percent. He’ll do whatever it takes.
You feel so wonderful right now, tucked into Sans’ chest. Your soul beats steady. Calm. After so long. Until your mind urges. You have to tell him.
“Sans,” you say muffled into his shirt.
“yeah?”
“Do you trust me?”
He pulls back and looks at you. His brow wrinkles in confusion, but his pupils are bright. They search your eyes for what feels like a long time.
“i trust you,” he says. You know he means it by the strength coloring his low timbre.
“I have to tell you something and I want you to trust me, ok? Please remember that.”
Sans’ brow draws down further. “ok…,” he promises, but it trails, perplexed.
You take a deep, shuddering breath. Here goes nothing. “Asgore offered to take me to the Underground to research what’s there.”
His sockets darken totally and what you wouldn’t give to get those alluring, vivid lights back. His arms tighten and shake around you. You move into overdrive now, spurred on by the roiling, near-unknowable something pulsing through his body. You have to keep him here, in the present with you. There’s no other way and you won’t let him go down this road by himself.
“u-underground…?” He's only partly aware of the way his bones are starting to vibrate, the way they seem to shatter the silence of settled house. The way the cold sweat breaks and beads out over his too-slick skull.
“Yes, baby,” you say and you lean back to place both hands on either side of his face. “Look at me,” you command. It’s with the warmth and depth you feel so often when around him.
His sockets are still an intense and frigid black, but you know he’s focusing on you now. You feel the gravity of his gaze on you.
“Trust me, remember?”
He’s rattling steadily now, a faint chittering that clamors and skitters frightened throughout the room, looking for a place of refuge and peace, and you feel echoes of that time in front of Grillby’s, where a sinking dread sunk its claws deep into your heart and soul. So wild and fathomless you felt like you were drowning from the weight of it. But thankfully, it’s not quite that level.
Sans wishes he heard you differently. Or perhaps not at all. Then maybe he wouldn’t feel the way he does right now. So…numb, but not enough, not nearly enough. A long-standing fear lurking just below the surface, waiting, a beast in the jungle. Why the Underground? Why still the Underground? It almost makes him sick. What he wouldn’t do to get rid of it forever. The thought of you inside its gaping maw, taking everything from him once again is almost too much. He wants you up here, with him. With every fiber of his being, every grain of magic within him, he doesn’t want you to go. Your sweet voice calls to him though and he can’t help but listen.
Trust me.
Trust you. That’s what it said. What it’s saying. Trust....
He’s wrenched forward in his mind to the present.
“Trust me, remember?”
Remember. He remembers…the way you feel. Your warm touch and fluttering, singing soul. He tries to hold onto that. He remembers the way your soul felt when you came back from Asgore’s. That contentment. That peace he’s wanted for you for so long. He said he’d do whatever he can for you. But…can he do this? Can he let you go down there?
“trust…,” he murmurs, so quiet you almost miss it.
The sound of his voice is blessed music to your ears, even though it’s not his usual strength.
“Yes. Trust me. I will do everything I can to be careful. I know how you must be feeling, and I’m s-so, so sorry I’m doing this to you. But, I couldn’t not tell you.” Tears well in your eyes. “I couldn’t.”
The hitch in your voice, the glistening of your eyes pulls him back. His bones calm as does his fear, though it’s not entirely absent. It could never be. One of his hands lays over top of yours, pressing it hard to his cheek.
He tries a less-than half-hearted attempt at levity. “any chance you could not go?”
Your answering smile is worn. “I’ve already said yes.” You add, "And...I want to."
Sans closes his sockets and shudders. Somehow, with your admission, it’s become even more real. There’s no going back and there’s no way you’re not going to do something you want to do. “i d-don’t want ya to go….”
You press your lips to his mouth and he groans. “I know. But I’ll be alright. Asgore will be there.”
That does nothing to ease Sans’ worries. He doubts you’ve forgotten what Asgore has done, but it sure as hell seems like it in the moment. And then he comes to the conclusion he was hoping he would never have to arrive at.
“then i’m goin’ with you.”
“No.”
Your answer is swift and hard. It makes his sockets shoot open in surprise.
“what?” he says dumbly.
“I’m not gonna let you come with me. I won’t let you.” You press closer to him. “You’ve been through too much there, baby. You belong up here.”
He whispers even while his soul aches, “ya belong up here too.”
“And that’s true, too. There’s no place I’d rather be than up here with you. But…,” you smile sadly. “I need to do this.”
That makes him pause.
“need to?”
You don’t want to get into this now. He’s your focus and you won’t let him slide further and further away from you. Your thumb strokes his cheekbone. His magic hums underneath and it’s so good to feel it there.
“Don’t worry about me, ok? We…,” you trail off, hesitant. “We can talk about it later. Right now, you’re the most important.”
He presses his forehead to yours. There’s no way you’re gonna get away with not talking about this, but for now…it’s enough. His arms are still tight around you, though he's exhausted.
“when do ya go?” he asks.
“Tomorrow.” His bones shake faintly.
He sighs. “almost wish ya hadn’t told me.”
Your lips lift in a half-smile. “No, you don’t.”
“heh…. guess not.”
“None of that keeping it to ourselves…,” you start.
“to protect the other kind of bullshit,” he finishes softly. “like we promised…. didn’t i also say I hate makin’ promises?”
You chuckle and you stroke his cheekbone all the way to the back of his skull. “You might’ve. But you also tend to keep them.”
“guess so.” His head rocks back and he stares at the ceiling. His pupils are back, if a bit faint. Stupid promises.
“I’m sorry,” you say. You truly are. You hate to see him in such pain. And knowing you’re the cause only makes you feel worse, no matter how important it might be.
“don’t be.” He takes a deep breath. “i’ll be ok. you said ya needed this. gotta trust ya.” He looks at you now, his hand laying on your cheek this time. “and we’ll talk about that later, alright?”
You lean into that wonderful, all-encompassing touch. Your gaze captures his in a vice. “That’s a promise.”