Save Point (Sans x Reader)

Extra #12: Christmas

Note:

To clarify, this fanfic takes place in an unspecified/made-up location. The weather is based off tropical climates -- where it rains instead of snows around this time of year!

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Third Person POV

Sans's Perspective

It's a rainy Christmas. 

Drops can be heard above, hitting zinc panels like a musician would with a drum. The smell of hot chocolate wafts through the air, mixed with the subtler scents of cinnamon and nutmeg. 

Sans sees Mettaton enter the room, helping (Y/N) carry multiple trays of pastries and goods: pumpkin bread, sugar cookies, and a varied display of muffins and cupcakes. The robot wears another dress, while the human looks about as stunning as he had ever seen them before, a big deal for him considering he wasn't one to focus much on outer appearances. It's apparent by the way their clothes conform almost perfectly to their body type that Mettaton had been the main and only person responsible for making them look that way. 

He feels breathless when they turn to him, a smile making him focus on their lips, glossy with chapstick. A hint of makeup covers up the scar Flowey left on their cheek, though he can still picture its location just as clearly. Marks are a bit more visible on their neck and wrists, though they're made less eye-catching by the same technique as before, in addition to the turtleneck sweater they wear right over their semi-formal clothing. In short, they were a great difference from the day Flowey attacked them, tired eyes and blood stains replaced for a brighter gaze and sharp clothing.

Noticing him, the human sets the trays down on a table and walks to his side. He sees them grin right before they lean over, lips closing in on his jaw, teasing him over a future kiss. 

"You make a nice Sansta Claus," they comment, smile growing. "If I'd known, I would've dressed up, too. You look cute."

"And you don't?"

They hum and grimace, placing a hand on their hip a little too similar like the robot behind them often did, a personality absorbed through the human now working for him. He tries not to see the resemblance, however, and chooses to grin instead, observing how they try to fix their clothing, tugging at it with how it sticks to their body. "Mettaton made me wear all this," they explain, gesturing at their clothes. "It's. . . really not my style, but he said it looks good."

"He said you looked good?"

"Getting jealous?" The devil appears behind (Y/N), placing his hands over their shoulders and flashing a knowing smile at the skeleton. "Don't worry, darling -- I've already got my eyes on someone else."

Sans's want to clarify he's not jealous is prohibited when another person enters the room, accompanied by two other people from what he can tell by the sound of their footsteps. He looks away from the robot and the human to see Grillby carrying drinks, the Snowdin shopkeeper carrying a pot, and a busy Muffet carrying all sorts of items, both comestible and not. The flame beckons him, though he hesitates, not quite sure over the idea of leaving Mettaton and (Y/N) alone now that he was labeled as jealous by the former.

He huffs and arrives next to Grillby, peering down at the table to see punch, fruit juice, and carbonated soda, along with coffee and cocoa -- all of them homemade. How the flame had that much talent when it came to mixology was a mystery to him, considering how limiting the Underground had often been for expanding knowledge on specific areas of labour and management. Then again, Grillby was a dedicated person, and him living close to the Librarby helped with the situation.