Save Point (Sans x Reader)

Chapter Forty-Three, Part Three

A small, silver key lies on top of a white cushion, polished material glistening with the fast setting sun. It has what you assume is a home's address engraved on the center, the immediate assumption that comes with that thought making your emotions a mess as you try to cope with the speculations that make way into your mind.

"Is this. . ." you mumble, words drifting off along with your thoughts.

"A copy key of my house," Sans replies, a sheepish strain to his voice. "I thought about us living together now that you've moved out of your old place. I know Tori offered you a place to stay, but. . . The offer's still up."

Shocked, it takes a minute for your brain to form a comprehensible question, the sight of the key and its purpose freezing you right in place. "Wh- What about Papyrus, though? Will he be okay with this?"

Sans lets out a deep sigh when his brother's name is mentioned, a speck of sadness reflecting on his irises. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind, but he's movin' out soon. He's gotten real good at cooking, so he's plannin' on working farther away from here. The place he used to work at and the recipes you sent him helped a lot with improving his skills." He pauses on his words, gaze casting firm at the open box in your hand. "There's. . . somethin' underneath the pillow I want you to see also."

Your nerves are practically on edge at this point, hand almost dropping the box when you fumble around with it. Carefully, you lift the cushion, a golden ring revealing itself right under it.

"Wh- Sans, I. . ."

You're left speechless when you stare down at it. Your attention shifts between the key on your dominant hand and the box with the ring in the other, a foreign feeling rising within you. Unable to process things straight, you move all the items to one hand, clutching onto them as you then break into a wide, quivering smile and engulf the monster into a strong hug, face burying deep into the crook of his neck.

"I. . . I don't know what to say," you murmur, voice muffled by the thick fabric of his jacket. Your hands rest all the way down to his waist and stay still around his back. "Thank you, bu- but. . . This is too sudden."

"I know that," Sans remarks, snickering. "It is for me, too. But I want you to have it -- To keep it with ya 'till we're both ready for this. The key, though. . . Now I'm gonna need an answer to that. I was thinkin' of moving to a smaller place 'cuz it feels too empty when Pap's not at home, but I came up with this while thinkin' about where I could move off to. Faust could stay at Pap's old room, and you, uh, could stay in mine if ya wanted to."

You squeeze him tighter -- until you feel the beat of his soul against your body.

An onslaught of tears run down your cheeks, unable to be controlled when your mind betrays your emotions by letting your hopes run wild. You promptly melt into a series of nervous laughter, eyes stinging as you try to blink the seemingly endless row of tears away.

"I'd love to, Sans," you reply, happiness dwelling in your chest. You feel your breathing grow tighter and tighter, until you're left to heave for air, a shudder reaching up your body. "I. . . I'd love to move in with you."

You pull away after that, face burning with the back and forth of your emotions. It was hard for you to pin one straight without it dissolving into the next one, joy bursting on your expression right as melancholy manifests through tears and a strained smile. You shudder and burst with a chuckle once more as you try to take in everything at once, tear-stained eyes moving on to see the monster staring at you, amusement present the next time he laughs.

"Here," he speaks up, offering you a handkerchief. "Figured you'd need this."

The mischief in Sans's tone makes you wary of his true intentions, hand slowly reaching out for the cloth as you try to figure out what he could be hiding behind that emotion. You look at him to see his usual, relax expression plastered on his skull, irises being the only thing to give away his expectancy. Handkerchief in hand, you inspect it thoroughly, its dark blue colour tainting your fingers when you pass it to your other hand.

"Looks like I lost the chance to say you're lookin' a little blue, (Y/N)."

Far from wanting to give Sans the satisfaction of seeing you react to his shenanigans, you look away from the cloth and narrow your eyes at him, grin showing on your face as a plan pops into your mind. Without much of a warning, you chase after him, though he catches on just as promptly as you act, a scenario similar to the time you were at Mettaton's hotel replaying itself on the balcony, the context and general intensity of your actions differentiating them.

The skeleton dodges each one of your attempts at capturing him, the charade lasting until he arrives at the metal railings of the balcony. Trapped between them and yourself, you gain the upper hand, laughing when you throw the handkerchief at him, tinting his cheekbones blue when it lands right in the middle of his face.

"You're the one looking blue!" you exclaim, pride immediately halted when he blows the cloth off his face and aims it at yours, giving you no time to dodge his attack. Being of light material, it lands with grace, though it still manages to paint your face the same colour as his.

"Now we're both blue," he mentions, a resonant, hearty laugh following along with his statement.

★

Anticipation and anxiety have a conflict in your thoughts as you wish goodnight to both Faust and Frisk, the pair near falling asleep and sharing a bunk bed. You plan on staying at the goat lady's home for another week or two, the thought of moving in with Sans right away one you couldn't fully cope with yet. Not only would you have to explain to others how that decision was made, but you also couldn't bring yourself to mention anything about the ring to other people -- Not to any of your friends, and even less to Faust or any of your relatives.

While you knew it was unhealthy for you to worry as much as you were right now, you can't shake off Jessie from the picture. You had been a little more than over the moon the day they proposed to you, immediately falling into their arms and ending in bed not an hour after. You still couldn't forget the day they called you easy -- that they had the guts to call you out on how fast you fell for their past self. Worry that you're going about the same way with Sans disturbs your thoughts, though you find comfort in the thought that you felt happier alongside him.

"(Y/N), dear?" Toriel's gentle voice comes from behind you, a warm, fluffy hand being placed on your back. "Are you alright?"

You turn to see her figure, face still visible even with the lights turned off, the night light set by the bunk bed providing with some source of illumination. A smile shows up on your face, feeling a bit more confident with your last line of thought. Jessie was a thing of the past now -- They had haunted you enough, and you weren't planning on giving them the pleasure of invading your thoughts, even while they weren't present. You were happier now: not just with Sans's presence, but with Toriel's and many other people, too. You had friends you could almost call a family, a home to stay in, and Faust's custody safe in your hands.

"I'm fine," you reply, smile turning to a meek grin. "Something. . . really good happened today, so I'm kinda lost in thought."

"And what might those good news be?" she presses on, playfulness in her tone.

Bracing yourself, you reach into your (jeans'/skirt's) pocket, retrieving the box Sans had given you. Toriel's expression lightens up with curiosity, a kind smile making her entire face brighten with contentment.

"Congratulations, dear!" she exclaims her joy in a hushed tone so as to not wake Frisk and Faust, clasping her hands together as a giggle exits her mouth. "No wonder the worrisome look on your face -- I was on pins and needles when that day came for me!"

She practically ambushes you with a hug, hold tight enough to make you yelp when she squeezes you. Her fur tickles your nose as she brings you close to her, the soft scent of butterscotch emanating from her clothes. "Thank you," you reply, smiling. "I honestly don't know what to do next."

The goat lady breaks up the hug as soon as those words leave your mouth, eyes bright with excitement as she holds both your hands and levels her gaze with yours. "I believe I can assist you with that, dear. Tell me all about your day! I am certain we can work this out tonight."