Save Point (Sans x Reader)

Chapter Five

A week went by since the day your ex arrived to pick up (S/N) for the movies. They spent the entire weekend with him and were planning to stay a whole month at the inn located a few blocks away from your home. Now, you were back to the same routine of taking him to school, with the exception that you were at Toriel's office again. Your son had -- somehow -- managed to pick a fight with a girl at his class, and he was now back to his quiet self from the time he obtained his first 'F' in Math.

He shies away again at a corner of the small office, waiting for you to finish speaking with Toriel, not daring to say anything in his defense. He only watches as you sign a paper claiming you were informed about the incident, and that you agreed on him receiving an hour of detention for his acts.

"That would be all then, (miss/mister) (Y/N)," Toriel speaks, her voice calming you down. "I hope all goes well."

"Thank you," you reply, smiling at her.

You stand up from your seat and excuse yourself from her, extending a hand out towards (S/N) for him to take it and follow you out of the office. He complies without uttering a single word of protest, his eyes facing the floor the entire time.

Carefully, he loosens his hand from yours as soon as he steps out, still quiet and still too frightened by what happened to keep up with your pace. You allow him to follow behind you, knowing he wouldn't budge right now into telling you how he felt.

Your steps are haste as you make your way through the extensive hallway, (S/N) walking behind you with a pace slower than a snail's. Clouded by your own thoughts, you don't stop walking blindly ahead until you hear your name being called out from behind you. You turn to see who it is, eyes facing the tutor-slash-janitor standing in front of you, a trace of concern showing in the way he looks at you, then back at your son.

“Everything okay back there?” he asks, directing his words more at the child rather than yourself.

The child remains quiet, looking down at his feet and avoiding the skeleton’s gaze. His hands ball into fists, and -- before you could so much as blink -- tears go running down his cheeks.

“I didn’t do anything. . .” he mutters, a hiccup interrupting his words. “I. . . I just wanted to. . . to--"

His hiccup turns into a series of sobs, his crying messy yet quiet as he rubs his eyes free from tears. Stunned, you take a cautious step forward, attempting to reach a hand out towards him, only to have his silent cries explode into loud, uncontrollable sobs.

“Kid,” Sans mutters, caught aback by the child’s outburst. “Calm down and tell me what’s wrong. You’re acting real different from the kid I’m used to tutoring math to.”

He crouches down to bring comfort to (S/N), carefully holding out a gloved hand for him to take.

“What happened to the kid who’s always trying even after making mistakes in division?”

The child takes his hand, a noise similar to a balloon releasing air making him flinch and take a step back. His surprise shakes his tears away and dissolve into giggles when having the skeleton show him the whoopee cushion hidden underneath the work gloves he wore.

“Feelin’ better now?”

Nodding vigorously, he smiles at the skeleton before him and pulls him into a hug. The action seems to catch Sans by surprise with how long it takes him to return it, though once he does, you can see happiness on his expression. After the two let go, he stands up from his crouching position and looks down at your son.

“I. . .” he trails off on his words, hesitating. “I was sad because I got sent to miss Toriel’s office.”

Though neither of you were expecting to have (S/N) mention the cause of his troubles -- a fact proven by the way you both look at one another -- you keep silent, waiting to hear him out.

“Someone was making fun of my bunny friend for her front teeth, so I. . . I told the girl to stop it. But then she pushed me, and then I pushed her back and--"

He stops his venting when hearing his name called out from the same hallway you’d just walked through. The three of you look to see a pink bunny child standing close to the principal’s office, gaze traveling further to see Toriel and a taller, equally pink bunny woman conversing with her. The two start to run towards each other until Sans warns them about running inside the school premises, obligating them to slow their steps. You watch the two talk the second they arrive next to each other, a small smile freeing you from the previous tension of being called out to see your son at Toriel’s office.

“Wanna join me?”

You turn away from the scene to come across Sans sitting on the plastic bench nearby, his welcoming tone making your smile widen. You sit down next to him, keeping some distance between you to avoid brushing with him like the time you invited him for some coffee and sandwiches.

“Thanks for the help back there,” you mumble, an awkward laugh breaking free from your lips. “He usually tells this stuff to his other parent, so he. . . doesn’t really tell me when something’s wrong. I didn’t want to bring it up until we got home, but this is way better than the tactic I had in mind.”

“He won’t tell you about stuff like this?” he asks, his eye sockets furrowing slightly.

“Not unless I convince him to tell me, or if I’m told about it by people like miss Toriel just now,” you reply, letting out a soft breath. “I didn’t know another child was involved in this. By the time I got here, I was told he just pushed a girl out of nowhere.”

You look back towards where the children stood, facing Sans with a brighter smile afterwards.

“I don’t know how you did it, but. . . This is the first time I’ve seen him open up this much to someone else.”

“I used to take care of my brother Paps when he was younger,” he notes, his smile loosening at that thought. “Guess I still got it.”

Caught in the moment, the skeleton inadvertently hooks his arm behind your side of the bench, the proximity of that action making him tense in place, his leg brushing against yours. At a loss for words, you look away from him, the sudden leap in your emotions reminding you of the time you first met your ex (wife/husband). He scoots away from you after growing aware of how little space there was left between you, an awkward cough breaking the silence that fell after hanging his arm behind your seat.

You look elsewhere, desperate to find a topic of conversation that would distract you both from that incident.

Your wishes are granted by the sight of your son playing red light, green light with the bunny child, their joy and laughter making you smile.

“I kind of wish I could get used to change as quickly as (S/N) does,” you speak, your words finally getting Sans to face you again. “I still can’t get over the fact that we lived in a small town just a few months ago.”

“Everyone deals with things differently,” he comments, his words still cautious after what happened. “For a kid like him, it might be a little easier, so don’t compare yourself too much with him.”

His word of advice is enough to keep your conversation going with him, the earlier experience vanishing -- if only momentarily -- as you both carry on with different topics. You talk with him until the children are done playing and the bunny parent is done speaking with Toriel. Then, you excuse yourself from him, wanting to have a word with Toriel and the other woman before leaving back home.