Save Point (Sans x Reader)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

You receive a response from the mayor faster than you're expecting to. Having sent your letter the day after talking with Undyne -- Wednesday, to be more exact -- you weren't expecting to receive a response until next week. Your hands begin to shake when you take hold of the letter, closing your eyes when you pull the paper out of the envelope and opening them when you're done. Your eyes skim past the pleasantries and concentrate on his reaction to your complaint.

"While I do not plan to change the laws, I am interested in your complaint, (miss/mister) (L/N). Your short-term service to our community the past year was questionable, but I commend your unwavering dedication towards your beliefs. I assume the fellow you mentioned is your partner, correct? Otherwise, it would be strange for you to worry about him as much as you do. I still do not approve of you leaving your position as an officer to side with the monsters, but do as you wish. I will deem whether your complaint is worthy or not based on our first meeting this upcoming Monday at one thirty in the afternoon. You have three to four days to prepare until then."

A knot forms on your throat when you finish reading. You fold the paper by the same lines and slip it back into the envelope. Your sight turns blurry and you feel nauseous at the thought of what awaits you ahead. The pressure builds and you find yourself at the need to sit down for support, pressing the back of your head against the couch and letting your body find ease.

 
★
 

Sans actually lets you see his room the second time you call him. You're sitting on the edge of the bed with your back facing the mirror of your dresser, already out of your work uniform and door locked in case Faust woke up in the middle of the night.

"Hey," you greet, a smile showing on your face. Your eyes take in the room behind him: a twin bed, a small work desk, and some laundry on a basket lying at the corner of the room. The lighting is dim, the moonlight that enters the windows casting nature's shadows on the floor. Sans is sitting on what looks to be a black office chair with wheels and -- unlike you with your gray and blue pajamas -- he doesn't seem like he's ready to call it a night yet. “Are you. . . feeling better?”

“Sorta, yeah,” he replies, honest response made seem less important by the way he shrugs it off with a laugh. “That gift you sent me helped a lot.”

“So, they fit?” Excitement is present in your question. That feeling grows when he nods and you see him stand up to reveal the clothing he now wore. The pair of dark-coloured pants reaching right below the ankle and their thick fabric were able to hide away the monitor Sans was obliged to carry everywhere he went. “I didn’t think I’d get your size right.”

His irises flicker once and grow brighter when he sits back down, expression appearing less dreary to your view. He rolls the chair to your left and arrives at his work desk, where he retrieves a small, black box from the top drawer.

“I, uh, got somethin’ for ya, too.” The monster breathes in and tugs at the collar of his shirt with his free hand. He looks troubled to speak up again. “I. . . had a lotta time to think these past few days about what you confessed over in court. These past three weeks without you around kinda made me realize how I feel.”

“Sans,” you intervene, flustered at the thought that he was forcing himself now. “You don’t have to-”