Save Point (Sans x Reader)

Extra #11: Christmas Eve

Above is the update schedule of the remaining content of this fanfic, as seen on my Quotev account!

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The night is cold and wet; leftover rain dresses the grass and flowers with dew. Only the patient bracelet you carry with you's what reminds you you're not allowed to venture too far. You hold Sans’s hand tighter and breathe in the freshness surrounding the air. He chooses to stop halfway into your walk, making you wait for him.

“Is anything wrong, Sans?”

He looks dazed. With a heavy sigh, his body slumps, though he manages to reply. “Tomorrow’s Christmas, and we couldn’t really spend it at home. I wanted Faust to spend it with a stable family, I guess -- Poor kid has me as a dad now.”

You can’t help the jolt in your soul, though you figure right now’s not a moment to feel giddy over the thought of getting married again -- to someone you trusted more than feared. You had long since complied and submitted to Jessie’s wishes, but now, you felt free -- free to be true to yourself while still keeping a stable family in the picture.

“Shut up, you dummy!” you exclaim, nudging him. “You’re gonna be a great one. Didn’t you say you raised Papyrus on your own?”

“It’s still hard for me to get used to it. You’re talkin’ to a guy who didn’t take up that job as a scientist ‘cuz I thought I’d fail bad, and that I wouldn't live up to its expectations."

Your senses peak at the new surge of topic. Wanting to know more, you move closer to him and watch as a caterpillar inches its way to the bed of wildflowers near you. The wind feels crisper and the sky grows darker, making you shudder. “So I take it you were gonna be a Royal Scientist, then? What were your plans for helping Asgore?”

You join the monster when he chooses to sit on the grass and see him offer a finger at the caterpillar for it to climb on. “I wanted to make life at the Underground a lil' easier, and that meant tryna solve the water crisis and lack of positive change. The rivers, waterfalls, and all that were dryin’ out as the years went on, Hotland got even hotter, and it was real hard to make a change with the lack of supplies we had. Sure, Alphys built Mettaton’s body and all, but it was made from the few scraps we found at the dumpster.”

He hands the caterpillar to you, your fear over hurting it deeming you reluctant to reach out for it quickly. It eventually climbs onto your finger, while Sans feeds it the leaf it had been inching towards. The way it chews helps you calm down a bit and observe it more closely, bursting out a laugh when it tickles your finger. “What about getting a degree as soon as that new college opens up? Maybe it’s not a hybrid uni or anything, but you’ll be able to study with other monsters there.”

“And tell them I’m married to a human?” Sans asks, grinning. “I’m sure that’ll go well.”

“You’re being silly,” you retort, pressing the caterpillar against his cheekbone, an act that makes him retreat when it tickles him with its fur and legs. “I’m sure they’re not against that idea -- It only makes sense they'd establish a monster-only college if every other uni within a fifty mile radius bans monsters.”

Sans huffs, frown turning to a smile when the caterpillar falls on his lap and squirms off for more leaves. “Sweet of you to have that kinda hope, but I’ve read their rules before, cupcake, and they ain't that easy to get through. The second I tell ‘em I’m your husband and Faust’s dad, the quicker they’ll kick me outta there.” He kisses your chin the moment you tense and feel yourself frowning, eye sockets closed as he goes higher up, meeting with your lips. “Don’t get any ideas, though -- I ain’t plannin’ to leave you guys for somethin’ like that. Rather wait ‘till those hybrid universities get here and keep tutorin’ ‘till then.”

“Are. . . Are you really sure, though?”

Sans shakes his head softly, backing away. “‘Course I am. You’re tellin’ me I got a restraining order and an arrest on my records for nothin’? I love you, (Y/N).”

You’re not sure whether the dampness in your eyes is due to the quickening wind, his statement, or both at once, so you choose to counter it by resting your head against his chest, listening to his soul. The first time you had heard him say that, you clearly weren’t meant to hear it yet. Today’s a different story, confirmed by the way his soul beats and adjusts itself to the steady rhythm of your own. “L- Love you, too, Sans.”

You lift yourself off his chest and urge him to stand up, hands shaking when you grow aware of what you’re about to do.

Carefully, you get down on one knee and glance up at the monster, taking out a box from your (jean/skirt)’s pocket. His irises appear to falter and grow bright the next -- brighter than you’ve ever seen them before. 

“Will you accept this ring? It’s. . . not custom made like yours, but I want you to also have an engagement ring with you.”

Sans seems ready to collapse, how tense and disoriented he looks making you bite back a smile. “That’s one way to turn me into a ghost,” he comments, breathing out. “Almost felt my soul leave my body for a moment there -- I swear I’ll never get used to this.” To your surprise, he kneels as well, placing his hand over the ring, the budget you set for it showing through its size and simplicity. He takes the piece and slips it on his ring finger, grabbing your hand afterwards. “Never thought I’d be gettin’ proposed to, but holy crap, it feels good.” Then, he grabs your face in his hands, a different intensity and passion present in his movements. His kisses are longer in duration and deeper in their intensity, giving you no time to rest or breathe as he follows one after the other.

“Sans. . .”

You feel his excitement through the haywire pace of his soul and his fervent touches, hands holding onto your body as if you were to disappear were he to release his grip on you. He shudders and brings you close; it takes him time to let go, his novice knowledge on how to cope with those emotions told by the reluctancy visible in him when he frees you from his hold.

“This what humans say ‘bout an endorphin rush? Never thought that’d be possible as a monster,” he comments, a hazy glint to his staring. “And where’d you even get that ring, anyway? You’ve been stuck here with me at the hospital for a good while now.”

“I have my ways,” you reply, winking at him. “Lets just say a friend had this planned out for me already.”

You watch as Sans looks down at the ring, the faint red that shows over his cheekbones masked by him breaking eye contact with you. “I, uh, dunno how to deal with this. The heck am I supposed to do now?”

Smiling, you hug him from behind and bring your lips close to his ear cavity, grinning when he shudders, his breath hitching at your touch. “You’re not supposed to ‘do’ anything now, Sans,” you reply, holding him closer. “Just. . . Just go with the flow. I’m sure you’ll figure this all out the same way you did when you decided to propose first.”

“I. . . I really did that, didn’t I?” He laughs, voice shaking. “Still dunno how though.”

He tenses when you bring a hand over his soul, all while maintaining the hug in place. “You really did, Softie.”

“Don’t you dare go there, Sweet n’ Salty Pastry.”

“Try me, Blushie."