In which nightfall plays a role both literal and figurative.

You

It's almost nine a.m., and Sans isn't awake yet. Knowing his habits, this wouldn't be surprising, but the two of you went to bed early last night, and Sans fell asleep almost immediately, which means he's been sleeping for almost twelve hours.

You've been awake for three.

You got out of bed a couple of times, and even went so far as to brush your teeth on your second attempt to start the day, but every time you close your eyes you see Sans as he looked last night, scraped-up and sweat-stained and exhausted, so exhausted he could barely form the words he used to try and tell you he was all right. And the memory is so heartbreaking it sends you right back into the bed to take him in your arms again.

You could ask him what happened; you're dying to know what happened. But you're afraid he'd answer with some flippant comment, or an outright lie. More than that, though, you're afraid of touching a wound that's clearly so raw.

You can't ignore it, either.

What are you going to do?

You and Sans fell asleep last night facing each other, holding hands, but respecting an invisible boundary that had sprung up in the wake of the day's events. Snuggling just didn't feel appropriate. Of course, following previously-established patterns, you woke up completely entangled, legs entwined, the skeleton's face buried in your neck. Sans's tendency, when unconscious, seems to be to try and get as close to you as possible. Not that I'm complaining, you think, breathing him in as you run your fingers lightly over his shoulder blades. I just hope he's okay with it when he wakes up. Your relationship (our relationship, you think to yourself again, savoring the word) is so new you haven't had time to settle into it yet. If things are different now between you and Sans, how are they different? If they're the same, what does that mean for the two of you?

And will you ever be able to just turn off your brain and have a quiet moment with the person you love?

Papyrus's sudden pounding on your door jars you out of your contemplations. "SISTER! I HAVE MADE WAFFLES FOR BREAKFAST! AND STRAWBERRIES! AND THERE IS WHIPPED CREAM ALSO! THEY ARE DELICIOUS AND FULL OF TINY SQUARE HOLES AND I HAVE SET UP THE CEREAL BOXES SO WE CAN PLAY BREAKFAST BATTLESHIP!"

You'd have startled right off the bed if Sans wasn't clinging to you. At Papyrus's racket, the small skeleton makes an "mmf" noise and curls into you like a kitten. You smile fondly and jostle him a little.

"Hey," you start, but Papyrus tramples over your good intentions by bursting into the room with the sort of exuberance normally only seen in overstimulated toddlers.

"NEITHER OF MY JOBS WANT ME TO COME IN TODAY! I HAVE ALMOST TWENTY FOUR HOURS IN WHICH TO DO AS MANY NON-WORK THINGS AS POSSIBLE! WE MUST CELEBRATE WITH WAFFLY GOODNESS AND IMAGINARY EXPLOSIONS WHY IS SANS IN YOUR BED?" Papyrus pulls up short in confusion.

You look at Sans, then back at Papyrus, and sigh. Then you say, more to yourself than anyone else, "I guess we've got a lot to talk about."

* * * * *

Sans nurses his coffee, bleary-eyed and almost silent, while Papyrus trounces you at Breakfast Battleship. As you eat the last slice of strawberry from your waffle, moaning, "That's it. I'm out of ships," the small skeleton finally stirs.

"g'morning," he announces, voice raspy, and you giggle.

"Good morning, sleepyhead." You push his now-tepid plate of waffles towards him and take his cup to the counter for a refill. "I have a couple of announcements to make. Think you're awake enough to understand one of them? The other you already know, by the way."

"uh... guess so." Sans cuts a bite of waffle, but his fork hesitates just short of his mouth as his sleepy synapses process what exactly is happening here. He glances at you, and then at Papyrus, and his face flushes dramatically. He determinedly chomps down on his forkful anyway, pretending not to be embarrassed, and you grin. Sitting down beside him, you push his now-full coffee mug into his unoccupied hand. Then you lean over and kiss him gently on the cheekbone. You let your eyes drift shut, and your lips linger against him. He sighs and leans into the kiss. When you pull back and open your eyes, you see his eyes drifting slowly open, too.

Papyrus suddenly gasps. "OH! OH! OH OH OH!!!" You've never seen him smile so widely. One hand is clasped to his cheek, and the other is pointing excitedly back and forth between you and Sans.

"yup," Sans affirms, and though his blush is downright incandescent, he's also happier than you'd expected, considering his dislike of attention. You're smiling, too, as you take his hand and squeeze it.

"WHEN IS THE WEDDING?" You choke and drop Sans's hand, suddenly desperate to hide your face. Sans is in the same predicament, and with no hoodie to retreat into, he settles for dragging a cereal box in front of him.

"did we say we were getting married?" he whispers to you frantically. "i don't remember telling him we're getting married!" Sans pauses. "are we getting married?" You peek at him from behind your fingers, not sure whether he sounds fearful or hopeful. Is he really worried he may have proposed in his sleep? You shake your head in a negative, unable to muster words. At least, you think to yourself, Sans is completely awake now. Nothing like a good dose of nerves in the morning.

"CAN I PLAN IT? I HAVE ALWAYS WANTED TO PLAN A WEDDING! THERE WILL BE PARTY GAMES AND FIREWORKS AND OH SO MANY DECORATIONS PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE LET ME PLAN IT!"

You take a deep breath and lower your hands. "Papyrus, if we were engaged I'd be happy to let you plan the wedding. But we just got together yesterday. Remember, first comes love...?"

"THEN COMES MARRIAGE." Papyrus nods sagely, but adds, "HOWEVER, THE RHYME DOES NOT SPECIFY A PROBATIONARY PERIOD. AND IF IT DID, YOU AND SANS HAVE SURELY PASSED IT BY NOW! YOU HAVE BEEN MAKING GOO-GOO EYES AT EACH OTHER SINCE CHRISTMAS."

Sans does an honest-to-god spit take, spattering coffee on the cereal box he's hiding behind. "shit!" He wipes at it with his paper-towel napkin while you laugh.

"Did you seriously know we liked each other before we did?" For some reason, you can't stop laughing. This disorienting combination of innocence and brilliance is so classically Papyrus.

"OF COURSE I KNEW!" Papyrus draws himself up straight and thumps a proud fist to his chest. "THE GREAT PAPYRUS IS HIGHLY SENSITIVE TO THE EMOTIONAL STATES OF HIS FRIENDS AND FAMILY!"

"which is why you confuse laughing with crying," Sans snarks, a bit grumpy from all the embarrassment.

"WELL, IT CAN BE HARD TO TELL THE DIFFERENCE WITH YOU," Papyrus shoots back primly, and seems subsequently oblivious to Sans's immediate drop in mood. You, however, spot the introspective melancholy in the distance and decide to try and head it off. You drag a second cereal box over to expand Sans's wall, and ducking behind the barrier, you nuzzle his ear hole affectionately. Then you blow a puff of air into it.

"aaugh, ahaha! hey!"

"LAUGHING! THAT WAS LAUGHING! SEE, I DO KNOW THE DIFFERENCE, USUALLY!"

Grinning, Sans bumps your shoulder with his. You chuckle and move your cereal box aside so you can see Papyrus properly. "Let's just..." You and Sans glance at each other, and in his face you read the same shyness and cautious optimism you're feeling yourself. "Let's just see how things develop." You grin at the tall skeleton. "I promise if we do get engaged, you'll be the first to know."

"THIRD TO KNOW, YOU MEAN. AFTER YOU AND SANS." Papyrus, who'd been looking a little disappointed, now seems mollified. Then, suddenly, he brightens considerably. "UNLESS I AM BRILLIANTLY INSIGHTFUL AGAIN. WHICH IS A THING THAT SOMETIMES HAPPENS." He squints intently at the two of you, apparently determined to scrutinize you closely until you show signs of being affianced.

You choose to ignore this in the hopes that he'll lose interest eventually, and proceed with some trepidation. "So, okay, that's announcement one. Announcement two: Roxy's pregnant."

"OHMYGOSHOHMYGOSHOHMYGOSH!!!" Papyrus claps his hands delightedly. "SHE MUST NAME IT PAPYRUS JUNIOR!"

"wow, pregnant, huh? geez." You peer at Sans suspiciously. He smiles at you, and if you're not mistaken, there's a hint of disingenuousness behind that toothy grin. "that's... uh... that's unexpected."

"You knew!" you accuse, pointing a finger at him.

"knew? who, me? you think i knew?" He spreads his hands, all guileless grin and twinkling eye-lights.

You sigh, giving him a fond half-smile. "How did you know?"

Sans rubs the back of his neck, looking at the table. "well..." He holds up a finger. "when you talked to roxy, you acted like it was an emergency, but nobody was hurt." A second finger joins the first. "you called it private. weird word to use, doesn't apply to a wide range of situations." He continues to tick points off on his fingers as he continues. "you didn't want me coming with you, so it was either secret or embarrassing. but you said it was 'best friends stuff,' which makes 'embarrassing' less likely than 'secret.' and when i asked if she was ok, you said she'd be fine. so, i could kinda tell it was like a crisis, without being a crisis." Sans shrugs. "plus, i know she's been... uh... you know. with grillby."

"You were gonna say 'boning Grillby,' weren't you?"

"in the end, it didn't seem appropriate," Sans admits, but can't help the brief grin that rises to his face. "so what's she gonna do?"

You shrug. "We told her family last night. She's planning to tell Grillby today. We'll figure something out once everyone's on the same page."

"how'd her family take it?"

"Well..." You hum for a second, remembering. "It took a while for us to get everyone assembled. You know how many of them there are." Sans nods in understanding. "Once we told them, there was this shocked silence that seemed to drag on forever. Then Beth said, 'Well, what's one more?' and everybody burst out laughing."

Sans snickers. "they really stick together, huh?"

"They do," you agree. "I think they're expecting Baby to stick around, but between you, me, and Rox, I don't think adoption is completely off the table yet. I mean, having a baby isn't like getting a dog. This is one of those life-changing things." You fiddle with your fingers. It was your suggestion in the first place, considering motherhood would make it harder for Roxy to go to college and do a lot of the other things she's always planned on doing one day. But for some reason, you feel a little ashamed for suggesting it. After talking to Roxy's family about it, something in you just feels like... like the baby is family, too. Planned or not. "We'll make it work," you tell the boys. "Somehow."

"welp, that's what we do," Sans says, and drapes his arm around your shoulders. "we make things work."

"WE MAKE THINGS WONDERFUL!" Papyrus lunges across the table to hug both of you around the neck, plowing over sticky plates and knocking a cereal box to the floor, where it mercifully fails to burst open. Now part of a group hug, you pat your "brother" on the shoulder blade.

"We rock things," you agree. The moment reminds you that, just like you, Roxy isn't alone, and if circumstances aren't what she might have chosen, neither is she trapped by them. "How do you feel about being 'Uncle Sans?'" you ask the smaller skeleton, surprising yourself. It seems like you're already planning to do some babysitting. Would've been nice if your subconscious checked with your conscious mind first, before blurting it out.

"i, uh, i don't know much about little kids." Sans looks a bit nervous. "don't they, i dunno, scream and, and smell, and stuff? they're, like, all about noise and messes, right?"

"CHILDREN ARE JUST LIKE PUPPIES, BUT BETTER!!!" Papyrus shouts, throwing his arms in the air, scattering waffle crumbs. There's whipped cream on his cheekbone and a fork stuck in his scarf. You cock an eyebrow at Sans.

"ok," he admits, eyeing his brother affectionately. "maybe it won't be so bad."

"I'll call Rox later today and ask her how it went with Grillby. Maybe we can work out a schedule for babysitting and stuff." Yup, you're pretty sure adoption was never really an option. That was probably all you, being more practical than necessary. You sigh. "Maybe she can even go back to school, when things settle down."

"I CALL FRIDAYS!" Papyrus is bouncing with excitement. You're pretty sure he's going to be as attached to this baby as its actual family is. Possibly more so. "FRIDAYS ARE THE FUNNEST OF DAYS!"

You find yourself smiling. Then, as the anxiety that preceded your announcements dissipates, one of the thoughts that had taken a back seat makes itself known.

"Hey, Sans?"

"mm?"

"Didn't you say last night that you'd found out some things?"

But you're not sure he hears you, because Papyrus plows right over the top of your question with one of his own.

"SIBLINGS, DO YOU HAVE PLANS FOR THE DAY? BECAUSE I WOULD VERY MUCH LIKE TO GO TO THE FESTIVAL! SANS AND I MISSED IT LAST YEAR BECAUSE OF THE SKUNK FIASCO AND THAT MEANS WE MUST DOUBLE OUR FESTIVITIES THIS YEAR TO MAKE UP FOR IT! CAN PEOPLE FESTIVITY OR IS THAT RESERVED FOR EVENTS?"

"It's not a verb, but it should be," you inform him, and then turn to Sans. "Skunk fiasco?"

"he thought it was a kitty." Sans's face turns a little pink as he tries his hardest to choke down a snicker. "it's not a happy memory."

"THEN WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING, YOU INCONSIDERATE SANS?" Papyrus throws his paper plate at his brother like a frisbee. Sans dodges, cackling.

"What festival are we talking about?" Not that it matters. You're a bit of a festival fiend; you don't really care which festival it is as long as they have fun things to do and deep-fried everything.

"they're calling it freedom fest," Sans answers. "yesterday was the second anniversary of the breaking of the barrier. last year this thing lasted a week, but since it took longer than that to get the smell out..." He smirks at his brother, who's started clearing the table. When Papyrus looks his way, Sans's expression snaps into a sympathetic mask.

"I KNOW YOU ARE LAUGHING ON THE INSIDE, SANS." The tall skeleton boffs his brother with a cereal box on his way past. "KEEP IT INSIDE, OR THERE WILL BE NO MORE BACON, EVER." At that, Sans is forced to clap his bony hands to his mouth to hold in a burst of true laughter. You're starting to feel a little sorry for him. He's turning pretty red.

"So I guess we know what we're doing today." You rise to help Papyrus tidy up, unable to suppress an excited grin.

* * * * *

It looks like it will be a beautiful day, so instead of 'porting, Papyrus insists on driving the three of you to Freedom Fest. You have to admit, you're enjoying the ride, even though the wind is a little cooler than you'd like once the Miata picks up speed. You tug your denim jacket more snugly around your shoulders, and Sans puts an arm around you, sharing his warmth. In a sad attempt to substitute for his MIA hoodie, he's wearing a hooded pullover today. Printed on it is, "i  2^3  Σ  π ... and it was delicious."

"hey, paps? shouldn't we have the top up?"

"WHAT?"

"isn't it a little cool to have the top down?!?"

"WHAT?!?"

"It's fine," you shout to Sans, struggling to be heard over the noise of the wind. "I'm having fun. I'm not too cold."

"what?"

You laugh and smack him on the chest.

"WHAT'S GOING ON BACK THERE? WHY ARE YOU HITTING SANS? DO I NEED TO TURN THIS CAR AROUND?"

"No," you shout, while Sans yells "what?" again, grinning.

The Fest is packed when you finally get there, a mad mix of monsters and humans milling around. The city at the base of the mountain is bigger than your own little town, but not big enough to produce a crowd this size. People must have come from all over to satisfy their curiosity, see monster culture up close, try some...

"Spider donuts?" You make a face. The woman manning the stand, some sort of spider-monster, gives you a sharp glance, and follows it up with a wide grin full of very, very sharp teeth.

"You have something against spiders, dearie?" she asks sweetly, exuding an aura of menace so intense it practically pushes you backwards. You bump into Sans when you step back, and he wraps an arm around your shoulders protectively. He opens his mouth to speak, but by then you've found your voice again.

"I've got nothing against spiders, ma'am. Nothing against other bugs, either, but I still wouldn't put them in my mouth."

Sans snickers. Papyrus huffs, "DON'T BE RUDE, ______. MUFFET WAS THE BEST BAKER IN THE UNDERGROUND! AND NOW SHE IS THE BEST BAKER IN THE REST OF THE WORLD, TOO!"

Muffet preens at this. "Aww, Papyrus dear, you're so sweet! Here, have a donut and some cider!" Her multiple limbs whip out three pastries, and three paper cups of sweet-smelling amber liquid, in the time it takes you to blink. "For you too, dearie," she says, pushing a cup of cider into your hand. You can still detect a hint of saccharine venom in her voice when she says, "It's the only sweetness some people have! Ahuhuhu~!" The eerie giggle makes the back of your neck tingle as the fine hairs there stand on end.

"Thanks," you tell her politely, hoping you can correct the terrible first impression you've made.

"Seventy-five Gs, my darlings!" Muffet singsongs, holding out three hands.

"Hey!" you protest. The sales tactic is so pushy it's almost a con. But Papyrus cheerfully drops a handful of bright gold coins into one of Muffet's waiting palms as if he expected this. Muffet giggles and pockets the money, waving the three of you away with the rest of her arms.

"Now, shoo! Shoo! I have a business to run here!"

Sans uses his arm around your shoulders to steer you away from the stall. "c'mon, before she gets the fly swatter. that thing stings."

You peer closely into your cider cup as Muffet's call of, "Thank you, dearies! Come back anytime!" fades away behind you.

"This... isn't really made with spiders, is it? Just, um, by a spider?"

"best not to ask."

That's all the answer you need. But you take a sip anyway.

It's good.

But you can't quite bring yourself to finish it.

"how 'bout some nice cream, instead?" Sans points to a refrigerated cart with a colorful umbrella sticking out of it. It's manned by...

"A... blue bunny." Your voice is flat. Seems like some kind of ice cream pun, but you can't imagine anyone starting an ice cream business just to make that joke.

"got somethin' against bunnies, now?" Sans is grinning at you, eye-lights twinkling. You elbow him in the side, but can't keep from smiling yourself. After a moment, he looks at you oddly.

"you look like you're waiting for something." You didn't realize it yourself until just now, but he's right.

"I'm waiting for the pun."

"huh?"

You blink, and back the thought up a little bit. "You know, Blue Bunny ice cream? That one brand I never get because it's right next to Breyer's...?" You trail off, unsure how familiar Sans is with the grocery store. You or Papyrus generally do the shopping.

"oh my god, humans have a blue bunny ice cream company? that's hilarious. why does no one tell me these things?"

"Well, if I knew you were unaware, I wouldn't have mentioned it. Could have spared the world countless puns."

"too late now, checkers." Sans is grinning widely.

You lean towards Papyrus and murmur, "Save yourself." Papyrus shoves the last bite of donut into his mouth and grabs Sans under the arms, lifting his brother over his head.

"augh! hey, what..."

"I AM SAVING MYSELF BY THREATENING YOU. IF YOU MAKE AN ICE CREAM PUN I WILL THROW YOU IN THE GARBAGE."

Sans glances at the nearest trash can as if Papyrus might actually do it... or maybe has done it before. You raise your eyebrows as Sans says, "ok, ok, shit, dude, put me down. i won't make any ice cream puns." Papyrus sets him back on his feet. Sans straightens his shirt, and then adds, "it wouldn't be cool of me." Papyrus squawks angrily and makes a grab for Sans, who ducks behind you, snickering.

"Behave, will you?" you tell the boys as you pull up beside the colorful cart. "You got the donuts, so ice cream's on me."

The ice cream salesmonster is probably the most cheerful individual you've ever met, and though his "nice cream" is about on par with all the other ice cream carts in the world, you find yourself fervently hoping his business does well, purely because of his kind and happy attitude. The day is a little chilly for ice cream, but his warm smile stays with you as you move on to other stalls. While examining a tray of colorful jewelry made mainly of finely painted snail shells, you swirl your tongue around your popsicle and read the inside of the wrapper again. Hope your day is as sweet as you are! It's exactly the opposite of what Muffet implied. You smile wryly.

Suddenly a weight slams into your back and two sinewy blue arms wrap around you and lift your feet off the ground. "Gotcha, nerd!" You let out a frightened squeak at the same time you recognize the voice.

"Undyne! Down! Put me down!" You kick your legs, unable to cope with the sudden adrenaline rush.

Undyne cackles madly and drops you back to your feet. "What, no hug for your bestie?"

You swing to face her, hand on your chest, willing your heart to slow down. "Beastie is more like it! A little warning next time, please?"

Undyne laughs again. "Where's the fun in that? Bring it in, girl!" With that, she scoops you up once more, squeezing until you fear you might pop.

"U-Undyne, she c-can't b-breathe," an anxious voice pipes up.

"Alphys!" you gasp, joyful but also a little desperate. "Help?" Alphys tugs gently on Undyne's sleeve, and the water spirit puts you back on your feet only to sweep Alphys off hers.

"She seems... snuggly today," you remark to Alphys, who looks awfully happy for a heroic martyr selflessly enduring the interminable bear hug that otherwise would have been inflicted on you.

"THIS IS THE BEST! DAY! EVER!" Undyne plops Alphys back onto her feet and then charges into the crowd, not even looking back, voice trailing behind her: "I'm gonna win that plushie or die trying!!!" The stall-keeper she's bearing down on ducks behind his counter as she skids to a stop in front of it. You only saw him for a moment, but you're pretty sure his features were frozen in terror.

"It's all the sugar. A-and caffeine. And excitement." Alphys giggles. "D-did you know the King and Queen are here today? Asgore's g-going to make a speech at sundown. B-but right now they're, um..." Alphys trails off, scanning the crowd around her. "I-I don't know where they are right now." She smiles sheepishly at you. "We just spoke to them a minute ago, b-but..."

"Don't worry about it," you tell her, grinning. "I'm sure we'll run into them eventually." You're looking forward to seeing Toriel again.

"S-Sans," Alphys starts, "About that project..."

"prob'ly not the best time, alph," Sans responds. "but, hey, got a side project for ya. think you could write an interpretation program for a homemade electrophoresis instrument? I need to do some dna testing." You look at Sans curiously. What in the world is he working on now?

"J-just let me at the instrument and any test data you've got and I'll kn-knock out a reader on my laptop." Alphys is smiling brightly. She looks delighted to be invited onto this "side project."

"What's this about?" you ask, but Sans rolls over your question with, "wait... where's paps?"

Undyne's battle cry roars out over the crowd, followed by Papyrus's cackle. Followed by what sounds like a scream.

"uh-oh," Sans says, and while Alphys rushes off to check on the two of them, he just stands there, grinning.

"Aren't you going to help?" you ask, unable to prevent your own smile.

"nah, never get between the two of 'em during a challenge. they'll roll right over ya. besides..." He loops his arm through yours and leans closer, murmuring into your ear. "now that it's just us, it kinda feels like a date."

Your stomach flutters. You glance at him in surprise. He's blushing a little, looking suddenly uncertain. You pull his arm around your waist just as he attempts to retract it, and the opposing forces yank your bodies together in a soft collision that's both awkward and endearing.

"hey," Sans says quietly from inches away. Grinning a little bashfully, he settles his arm more snugly around your waist.

"Hey," you respond, smiling back at him.

It takes you a long moment to notice the noisy bustle around you has become significantly less... bustley. Your smile slips from your face as you look away from Sans.

Everybody's staring. Wide eyes are everywhere. Some of the monsters even have their mouths hanging comically open. For a second you assume the silence is due solely to the interracial relationship on display, but in that second, the humans in the crowd start to wander off, returning to more interesting activities. Some of them are wearing looks of delight and others bemusement or outright disgust, but none of them spend more than a couple of blinks on this minor diversion. The monsters, however, continue to ogle you.

"what?" Sans asks the group at large. His voice is casual, his posture relaxed now. He's adopted his public persona seemingly without effort, even though you know he's probably screaming inside. For your part, you feel like your face is on fire, and you find yourself shaking with nerves. I've got to get him to teach me that. At this moment, you'd do almost anything to appear as cool and calm as he does.

Someone shouts, "How'd you manage that?" You're not sure whether the question is directed at you or Sans, but before you can ask for clarification, the whole crowd of monsters erupts with chatter. Most of it is among themselves, but there are a few shouts that seem to be for the two of you, though it's hard to pick out what's being said. A few flashes from cell phone cameras go off, and one voice shouts excitedly, "This is SO going on Undernet!"

"don't put it on undernet," Sans groans, seemingly to the universe at large. He grabs your hand, pulling you away through the crowd even as he reaches for his hood to pull it up and hide his face. As you and Sans leave the small crowd behind, one voice rises above the formless chatter, and what it says is, "Way to go, human!"

Wait, what?

As soon as you and Sans are safely away from your audience, you plant your heels, bringing him to an abrupt halt with you. You're half-smiling at a dawning realization, and Sans's mortified expression makes you smile even wider.

"You're hot property," you tease, pulling your hand from his to jab a finger at his chest.

"hot property?" He stares at you incredulously. "that's what you took away from that?"

You shrug. "Well, it did kinda look like the celebrity-with-a-new-girlfriend scenario, but I'm not super-familiar with that kind of thing, so..."

Sans snorts. "celebrity, my tailbone. they're just shocked 'cause they've never seen me with a date before."

"And they noticed this because...?" You don't know why you're enjoying this so much. A discomfited Sans is, somehow, so very cute.

Sans stuffs his hands in his pockets, trying for his trademark casual slouch. "it's a small underground, checkers. we all know each other. got nothin' to do with being... hot property." He sounds amused, but he hasn't pulled his hood down yet.

A sudden thought causes your smile to evaporate, leaving you anxious. (Instant karma, maybe?) "You're not... uncomfortable being with me in public, are you?" You suddenly feel like you might have overstepped your bounds. You don't think Sans is ashamed of you, but if the two of you are the only monster-human couple here, that might mean it's more taboo than you thought. Or... Oh god, what if he's not even ready for a relationship? Was that kiss on the roof a fluke? A mistake? You take a deep breath and try to calm down, willing yourself to be patient and to listen to Sans's response.

Since he'd begun speaking as soon as you finished, there's not any waiting involved.

"what? god, no! checkers, hell no, i didn't mean it like that!" Sans's hands grip the edge of his pullover tightly. "i just..." Your heart goes out to him, and you place your own hands over his, gently easing their grip away from the fabric. He lets go of his hem and, instead, gently grasps your fingers. "i guess public displays of affection aren't really my thing."

"Oh." You ponder that for a moment. "I think I know what you mean." Sans likes to keep his feelings to himself, and treats them all like very personal, private things. Of course he wouldn't want to have romantic moments in public. It must make him feel so exposed, so vulnerable. Put that way, the fact that he's willing to let himself be vulnerable around you, just you, lights a lamp inside of you that burns with a warm, golden glow. You smile at him. "So... what's comfortable for you?" There's bound to be a line between what makes him happy and what embarrasses him. You're suddenly determined to find it.

"hmm..." He stares at you thoughtfully. "not sure. it's all uncharted territory, honestly."

"This okay?" You take his hand, lacing your fingers with his. He squeezes lightly, and gently pulls you a little closer. "How about this?" You loop your arm through his, placing your other hand on his radius through the sweatshirt.

"i like this," Sans says softly, relaxing by degrees. "this is nice." He places his free hand over yours where it rests against his forearm.

"Then let's stay like this," you tell him, and tug at his arm gently, leading him back towards the snail shell jewelry. "Come on, I'd like to take another look at that pendant. I think I want to buy it."

At the jewelry stall, you receive a pleasant surprise. Toriel, in an official-looking purple robe decorated with the monster kingdom's Delta Rune crest, is perusing the merchandise with the same sort of quiet delight you'd been, just minutes before. Asgore, looking absolutely massive in a cape with golden clasps, is by her side, talking happily in a low voice meant only for her.

"Toriel!" You surprise both of you by throwing your arms around her middle in a hug. A moment later, embarrassed, you try to pull away, but Toriel is laughing, pulling you in for a proper monster-style snuggle.

"Why, ______, it's so good to see you, my child!" When she releases you, Asgore opens his arms as well, smiling widely, and you embrace him in a more dignified fashion.

"Hello, little one!" he booms happily. He's even larger than Toriel, and you feel like you might disappear into his white fur and never be seen again. When he releases you, you cough a little. It's nothing personal, that's just a lot of fur.

"Are the two of you coming to the Sunset Speech? Gorey has worked very hard on it." Toriel looks between you and Sans, smiling. Asgore's smile turns into a sort of embarrassed grimace.

"Speeches," he says, attempting to retain some dignity, "Are a necessary evil."

"You'll do wonderfully, dear. You always do." Toriel pats her husband on the shoulder with one massive paw.

"I do better when you write the speeches," Asgore mutters, bumping her cheek gently with his goat-like nose in a brief nuzzle.

You notice the monsters at the festival are occasionally smiling and waving at their rulers, but Toriel and Asgore seem to be alone, without the crowd of guards and various hangers-on you'd expect to find swarming around officials at a public event. Again, you wonder at the casual attitude monsters seem to have towards the most powerful people in their society.

"I'd love to be there," you tell them, wondering if it will be a big event. Considering how casual the monsters seem to be about their royal family, you suspect not.

"paps'll wanna be there, for sure," Sans says, and sighs.

"You don't seem happy about that," you note, nudging him with your shoulder.

"ehh, speeches. not really my thing."

Asgore reaches out and drags Sans away from you, clamping the small skeleton to his side with warm affection. "Come now, my friend, let us celebrate two years of freedom together. Since Frisk cannot be with us tonight, there is an extra piece of butterscotch-cinnamon pie in the cooler. The two of you can share it if you join us afterwards."

"bribing the judge. isn't that illegal?"

You chime in. "If Papyrus wants to be there, and I want to be there, you're outvoted." Sans grins and shrugs as you turn back to Toriel. "Frisk can't make it?"

"Her duties as ambassador keep her very busy," Toriel tells you, a little sadly. "I wish we could spend more time together as a family, but human-monster relations must come first. Especially with the recent problems that have been popping up."

"I plan to announce that any monster who deliberately injures a human, or purposely causes them to fear injury, will be punished under monster law in accordance with the damage done." Asgore huffs, determination etched in his features. "It is the one thing in my speech that worries me the most. But it must be said. Gangs of young ruffians roaming around, making trouble... it is unacceptable. Our people will not want to hear this, but our policy must be pacifism. It is the only way the humans will come to accept us."

You nod slowly, accepting his point but uncomfortable with the assumption that there's only one way to deal with the situation. Shouldn't there be options? Isn't there a way to forge a peaceful relationship that doesn't involve making the monsters feel like they're being forced into the role of victims? You can see why Asgore would worry about this announcement. You're worried, too. And although, if there are gangs of monsters making trouble, those groups need to be dealt with, you're not even sure the few instances you've noted have really been gangs. They all looked more like large groups of friends. You've heard a lot about monster gangs on the news, but all you've really seen caught on camera have been groups of kids that reacted to insults and threats the way groups of kids tend to do, by joining in the nastiness. Without illegal activity, without robberies and assaults and drugs and things, can they even be considered gangs? You wonder where Asgore picked up this terminology.

"Gorey, it's almost time. We should go prepare." Toriel nods a thank-you to the jewelry merchant. She takes Asgore's arm and leads him towards the stage set up at the edge of the fairgrounds. "_____, Sans, we look forward to seeing you there!" With a cheerful wave, she departs, pulling her husband along with her.

"Let's go find Papyrus," you say, tugging at Sans's arm. "I'd like us to all watch together."

"hold up a minute," Sans responds, and pulls his arm away, digging in his pocket. He points to the snail-shell pendant you'd all but forgotten about. "i'd like that one. forty g's, right?" The merchant accepts the handful of coins Sans counts out for him and passes over the pendant, affixed to a long chain. "thanks."

You make a sound of surprise. "Oh, Sans, you didn't have to..."

"i know i didn't. turn around." He unclasps the chain and carefully hangs the pendant around your neck from behind. His fingers trail along the nape of your neck as he clips the clasp into place. "there."

You grin delightedly at him, holding the pendant up to admire it. "Thank you so much! It's beautiful!"

"well, yeah, you're the one who picked it out." Sans rubs the back of his neck bashfully.

"Just say 'you're welcome.'"

"... you're welcome."

* * * * *

The sun is almost finished setting, just a sliver on the horizon, and you wonder why the Sunset Speech is at the end of sunset, and not the beginning. The street lights that illuminate the fairgrounds at night are blinking on one by one, and some early stars are coming out. It's going to be a beautiful night. You just wish the atmosphere was more relaxing.

You'd been at Freedom Fest all day, but until now, you hadn't seen any protest groups. They must have arrived just for the speech. It makes sense, you suppose. Why spend all day exhausting yourself with angry shouting when you could pick the point in the day when the most people will be gathered together, and get a larger audience for a smaller amount of work? Since the stage is at the edge of the fairgrounds, with a small road going by on one side, the protesters have elected to line up on the opposite side of the road from the crowd of monsters waiting for their king to speak. A shiver runs down your spine as you realize how many there are this time. It's a small crowd of its own over there, bristling with signs calling monsters devils, demanding justice for Rob, and for a few others who've been hurt in human-monster altercations. You try to ignore them, but the size of the group is intimidating, and a lot of the monsters on your side are grumbling and scowling, on edge and ready to react at a moment's notice. You hope if they do react, they do it in a calm and reasonable way. You don't have high hopes for that, though. There's an overhanging cloud of anxiety and anger here, an emotional electricity crackling through the air like a warning, the feeling of an oncoming storm.

"NOW THAT IS JUST SILLY," Papyrus shouts indignantly. "WE ARE NOT DEVILS, AT ALL! WE ARE SKELETONS! EXCEPT FOR _____, WHO IS HUMAN, AND ALSO NOT A DEVIL!"

"I don't like this," you murmur to Sans, gripping his arm tightly. "It feels... wrong. Dangerous."

Sans puts his arm around your waist, pulling you closer. "let's get further away. if something happens, we don't wanna get stuck in the middle." But Asgore has stepped onto the stage, and the crowd has pressed forward, blocking the way. You, Sans, and Papyrus are stuck where you are for now. There are more monsters here than you'd expected, considering their lackadaisical attitude toward their own authority figures.

"My people, my friends," Asgore begins, and as he does so, you notice the protesters have drawn nearer, crossing the street, and are drifting towards the back of the crowd of monsters, where the press of bodies is thinner and there's more room to maneuver. You tune out the monster king and focus all your attention on what's going on behind you. It looks like... the protesters are splitting up into smaller groups? There's a kind of diffusion happening back there. It's hard to see, because of all the monsters in your way, but one of the smaller groups of protesters is near you now, and its members are shouting furiously at a specific monster, a large and increasingly angry-looking fellow who looks like a horned ogre. It takes only a few seconds for him to start shouting back. You tug on Sans's sweater and indicate the altercation.

"i see it," he says grimly.

You're not sure how it happens, but in a few moments, the ogre monster has been cut off from the rest of the crowd. Your eyes pick out two, no, three protesters between him and the rest of the monsters. They're pressing in on him, getting in his face, screaming and brandishing fists. "Like a wolf pack," you mutter to yourself. Sans looks at you questioningly. "They separated him from the herd," you explain, unable to take your eyes off the scene unfolding in front of you. "But instead of the weakest, they chose..." Someone they could push into a fight. The words stick in your throat, refusing to come out. The rest of the crowd has noticed what's going on and gaps are opening in the press of bodies as the monsters mill around, trying to decide what to do. You can hear Asgore, from his podium, entreating his people to stay calm.

Pushed past his limit, the ogre throws a punch. Then all hell breaks loose.

Suddenly the world is full of pushing, running, flailing chaos. The fight rolls over your own little group like a wave. The sound is incredible, a mixture of shouts and screams, pounding feet and panic that completely drowns out Asgore's own pleas as he tries desperately to instill some semblance of order. You crouch automatically, your body curling in on itself defensively. A fist flings itself towards your face at high speed and Sans intercepts it with his forearm. Somehow, despite the deafening clamor, you hear the snap of breaking bone. Sans is knocked back into you, blasting out a breathy, "kuh!" He grips his arm tightly, reflexively, sweat popping out on his forehead. From further out in the bedlam, a much louder CRACK rings out, followed by a piercing scream from the direction of the stage. Papyrus puts his arms around the two of you to shield you from the pandemonium, and takes a few hits in the ribs for his trouble. A heartrending wail starts up, and cold rushes through you when you realize it's coming from the speakers on either side of the stage. As Sans tears a hole in the fabric of space and, with a hoarse scream of his own, shoves you and Papyrus through it, you realize Asgore's been shot.

Your last image of the festival is compound: Toriel, wailing and cradling the body of her soulmate as it starts to dissolve into dust, and Sans, one eye blazing blue, still clutching his arm grimly as you and Papyrus fall through the rift and the chaos gives way to darkness and silence.

~ Author's Note ~

Good gol dang this was hard to write.

Sans's shirt translation = "i  8 sum pi... and it was delicious."  The i was originally *square root of -1*, but the square root symbol wouldn't transfer to this site.