Written By: Zana B. Sparrows

Fanart By: No Fanart this time! I couldn't pass up the opportunity to put up my favorite comic by Zarla. :-)

Setting the Stage: This one is a direct continuation of "Desires of a Broken Soul."

~Lime Alert: Limeonade~

Your perspective

You're hard at work in the skelebros' kitchen, trying your best to somehow navigate amidst the antics of your two co-chefs. When you'd originally offered to make dinner for everyone, you'd hoped that you might end up doing it alone. After that whole thing with Chara last night, and then your... uh... encounter with Sans earlier, you need some time to sort through your whirlwind of thoughts. However, seeing as you're encroaching on "master chef" Papyrus's territory, you feel you have no right to complain when he and your little sister insist on helping you.

That doesn't mean you're just going to let them do whatever, though. You're trying your hardest to keep Papyrus as far away from the stove as possible-the last thing you want is for him to use his overflowing passion to burn the house down. Instead, you've given him the task of chopping up the veggies.

But you're not even sure you can trust him with that-he seems to want to smash them with his fists. So, as a result, Frisk has become his unofficial overseer. She's trying to keep him from going overboard, and is currently demonstrating how to cut the squash and zucchini into neat semi-circles. If it weren't for her guidance, you have the feeling that there would be little pieces of squash, zucchini, and mushroom splattering all over the recently polished tile floors.
You laugh quietly to yourself as you watch the two of them, lazily shifting around the onions that you're in the process of sautéing.

"BUT WHY ARE THEY SO COLORFUL?" Papyrus asks for the fifth or six time. "FOOD ISN'T SUPPOSED TO BE THIS... THIS BRIGHT! THIS IS SO... WHAT EVEN IS THIS? THIS ISN'T PASTA!"

Frisk sighs and grabs her whiteboard, her furrowed brow showing that her patience with the skeleton is starting to wear thin. You'd already shown Papyrus the bowtie pasta that you're boiling, but he seems to be rejecting the fact that spaghetti and bowties are basically the same thing.

As you continue to watch Frisk try (in vain) to explain what vegetables are, you start to zone out, muscle memory alone driving your cooking efforts.

You... you can't stop thinking about Chara. Ever since you woke up this morning, you've been worrying incessantly about her. That's why you'd waited so long to leave the ruins-you'd been... kind of afraid to leave. What if she'd somehow found a way to manifest outside of the void, so she could finish you off like she'd threatened? For all you knew, a step out of the ruin door meant sudden death by knife. Luckily, that wasn't the case. That doesn't keep you from worrying, though. She could be biding her time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike...

You sigh, your hand instinctively brushing against your pocket. You'd made sure to start carrying a pocket knife with you. It's a pathetic effort at self-defense... but it's an effort all the same. And, even though you know that Chara could probably kill you before you could so much as reach for your pocket, having it there at least makes you feel a little bit more secure.

But, even as you're considering all the innumerable ways she could kill you... you still can't get those images out of your head. Chara locked in the cellar. Chara being circled by a child predator. Chara attempting suicide. Chara giving her life for the monsters. It's just... you're just experiencing so many conflicting emotions toward her at once. You empathize with her, but you can't forgive her. You pity her, but you despise her. You feel nostalgic towards her, and yet when you think about her... all you can remember is that last, triumphant smile she gave you before she stole your brother from you.

What are you supposed to do? Just wait all of this out? Wait for her to make her move, and then try to counter it as best you can? Are you supposed to go on the offensive? Try to talk her down? No, you'd already tried that. She just won't listen. But then... what are you supposed to do, kill her?

The moment that thought crosses your mind, you shy away from it. No. No, you couldn't do that. It wouldn't be right. ...Would it? When you think about it, she's technically already dead. Wait, would that make her a ghost? Oh. Well, okay, then. You're being haunted. Somehow, the idea is amusing to you. You can almost picture a severely annoyed Chara trying to pick up a piece of chocolate, only to phase through it over and over again. But... Chara's no Casper. This is serious.

...You want to talk to Sans about it. But... but that's not really an option, either. The last thing he needs right now is another weight to add to his shoulders. If today was anything to go by, he's still insecure about this whole relationship thing. He's so scared of getting close to you-scared of you leaving him and taking a piece of his soul along with you. With that in mind, what exactly are you supposed to say about Chara?

'Oh, Sans! You know that person that killed all of your friends and family, scarring you for life? Well, guess what? They're after me, too! But don't worry. I've got this under control. I've got my handy-dandy pocket knife with me to keep me safe. Oh, and I forgot to mention-Chara was the one responsible for the death of my family. But don't worry, it's all okay, because she's just a poor innocent child who was abused enough to drive her completely insane! See? She's not evil, she's just confused! I'm sure that I can get her to turn her life around-we just need to have coffee together, talk it out like civilized people. That'll fix everything,' you think sarcastically. Heh. Yeah, right-like that would go well. He'd probably wouldn't let me leave his sight. I might as well go and borrow those handcuffs from Mettaton again.

So, no. Telling Sans isn't an option. You suppose the best thing for you to do right now is just forget about it. There's no use worrying about things that you have no control over-especially not now, when you're supposed to be spending time with your beloved friends.

"(Y/N)!" Papyrus exclaims, a cutting board full of chopped veggies in hand, "FRISK HAS INFORMED ME THAT I SHOULD DELIVER THESE TO YOU! ...I BELIEVE THAT THEY AREN'T FULLY CHOPPED, BUT SHE INSISTED THAT THEY WERE READY."

The sound of Papyrus's voice snaps you out of your darker thoughts, and you manage a smile.

"And she's right," you say sagely, taking the cutting board from him. "These are perfect. Thanks, you two-that's pretty much all I needed you to do."

You slide the chopped veggies into your pan, and then search through the kitchen's newly added spice rack for some salt and paprika.

"ARE YOU SURE?" Papyrus asks, looking a little bit apprehensive. "THIS SEEMS RATHER... SIMPLE."

"Heh, Yeah, it sure is," you agree, sprinkling your mixture generously with the spices. "It's better that way-makes it easier on me. Not everything has to be as complicated as Master Chef Papyrus's amazing spaghetti."

Papyrus instantly perks up.

"NYEH HEH HEH!" he exclaims. You can sense a session of Papyrus boasting in your future, but luckily for your eardrums, you sister scurries over and takes one of his hands, before insistently pulling him out into the living room.

"WHAT?! FRISK, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

"Mmm!"

"OH, YOU WANT TO PICK OUT A MOVIE?"

"MmmHmm."

"WELL, I SUPPOSE IT IS MOVIE NIGHT. WHO'S TURN IS IT THIS TIME...?"

You tune out, instead rummaging around in the cabinets for a lid for the pan you're using. All that's left is to cover it and let everything steam. You're eventually successful, and cover the pan. You also turn down the heat on the bowtie pasta, which had been threatening to boil over. Once you're done with all of this, you lean against the counter, staring into space as you wait patiently for everything to cook.

Unfortunately... your mind wanders. The conversation that you'd had with Sans a few minutes ago was... enlightening, to say the least. Your cheeks heat up the moment the memory comes back to you, and you enter a struggle with your own brain to keep it from trying to decide what a "magical workaround" might look like. However... it's a losing battle. Instead, you force your perverted head to move onto safer ground. You can still recall the feeling of his body on top of yours, the sensation of his tongue brushing against your own...

You push your hair out of your face and put more weight against the counter, trying to sort through your thoughts on that last kiss. It had felt good. Like... really good. But at the same time, you have to acknowledge just how dangerous that had been. He could've had you. Right then, right there. If he'd gone any further, you wouldn't have stopped him. Some basic, primal part of you wanted that. Damn the consequences, and damn your parents' lectures on the benefits of abstinence until marriage. Had they seen that little display, they'd be rolling in their graves.

Geez... the things that skeleton does to you. Since when had you become such a dirty sinner?

Oh. Speaking of Sans, you think, where is he? Wasn't he just here?

The things that you don't notice. You roll your eyes at your own obliviousness and peek into the living room, expecting to find him on the couch. Nope. There's only one skeleton in that room, and he's of the more loud and boisterous variety.

Huh. That's weird-I was pretty sure that he was right behind me.

"Hey, Papyrus," you call. "Where'd Sans go?"

Papyrus freezes like a deer in the headlights, eyesockets wide and nervous sweat dotting his forehead.

"OH! UM... HE... UH..."

"You rang?"

A familiar white and blue figure has just appeared at the top of the stairs. He has a shit-eating grin on his face as he makes his way down the stairs, a mischievous gleam to his irises as he focuses on his brother.

"SANS!" Papyrus exclaims, relief evident on his face. "YOU'RE BACK!"

"Yup. And I'm here with several humurous jokes that are certified rib ticklers, guaranteed to tickle your funny bone."

Papyrus instantly groans, a pained look on his face.

"NO, NEVER MIND. GO BACK TO WHENCE YOU CAME, FOUL BEAST!"

Sans chuckles, but... something seems off. His grin is tight, and there's a sour tinge to the room's atmosphere that you can't quite describe. Something's wrong. You try to make eye contact with him, but he's determined to avoid your gaze.

Did something happen? You wonder. He seemed fine just a few minutes ago.

Before you can bring it up, though, he turns away, and joins your sister by the TV console.

"Tryin' to pick a movie, huh? Well, let's see what we've got here..."

You sigh quietly to yourself and shake your head, before retreating back into the kitchen. Whatever it is, it seems pretty obvious to you that he doesn't want to talk about it. You decide to let the matter slide for now. If he continues to ooze depression in a few hours, then you'll talk to him about it. For now, though, you have work to finish.

***

"Dinner's ready!" you call, turning the stove off.

"THE HUMAN CONCOCTION IS FINISHED?!" Papyrus exclaims. "THEN I, CULINARY JUDGE PAPYRUS, SHALL BE THE FIRST TO TASTE TEST THIS EXOTIC DISH!"

Moments later, the armor clad skeleton rushes into the room with your little sister, both of them clamoring to get at the grub. Three out of four people are in the kitchen. Meaning, of course, that one is missing.

"Hey Paps, mind getting me a plate?" Sans calls.

Papyrus groans, a look of annoyance flashing across his face.

"SANS, YOU LAZY BONES, GET IN HERE!" he shouts.

"Aww, c'mon Paps."

"NO! YOU HAVE LEGS, DON'T YOU?! COME GET IT YOURSELF!"

There's silence from the other room. Then you hear a distant chuckle, followed by two very distinct popping sounds.

"SANS, WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN THERE?!"

Papyrus goes to investigate while you get yourself (and Sans, that lazybones) a plate. Moments later, an ungodly screech fills the air.

"Looks like you're gonna have to get me a plate after all, bro."

Papyrus doesn't reply, and you instead see him marching towards the front door.

"I CAN'T EVEN!" he shouts, throwing his hands up. "THAT'S IT! I'M DONE WITH YOUR SHIT, SANS! I'M GOING FOR A WALK!"

"Oh, c'mon bro, that was funny-"

"IF YOU DON'T HAVE THEM BACK ON BY THE TIME I GET BACK, I'M GOING TO DISOWN YOU!"

Then he stalks out, dramatically slamming the door behind him. You laugh quietly at the two brothers' antics, and go to take your lazy boyfriend's plate over to him. Predictably, he's sitting on the couch, a self-satisfied grin on his face.

"That for me?" he asks, looking at the plate in your hand.

"That it is," you confirm. You hand him his plate, an amused smile on your face. "You know, you should cut him some slack. One of these days, you're gonna give him an ulcer."

"Don't worry, he's used to it," he says nonchalantly. "He'll be back after he cools down."

"Well, if you say so," you say. You move to take a seat next to him. "What exactly did you do, anyway?"

"I may have made a joke of a more... practical caliber."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yup. Actually... I may need your help recovering from said practical joke."

You pause before you sit down, his statement confusing you. You stare at him, waiting for him to continue. Before he does, however... you notice that something's wrong with this picture. Something's... missing. It takes you a moment, but as you realize what it is...

Shock courses through you, closely followed by horror. Your plate slips from our grasp, your food splattering against the carpet as the blood drains from your face.

"O-oh... oh my god," you mutter, covering your mouth with a badly shaking hand. "Oh my god, what happened to your legs?!"

Sans' legs... are missing. His black gym shorts are limp and empty, like a deflated raft. Panic is building up in you like flood water behind a dam, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you try to remember whether or not Snowdin has a local doctor.

"Oh my god," you say again. "Oh my god. What do I do?! His legs are gone! Oh my god-"

"Buttercup-"

"Oh my god. OhmygodOhmygodOhmygod-"

"Buttercup!"

"Ah-ah-what? What?! I-Alphys-Alphys should-"

"(Y/N)!" Sans shouts. The sound of your name manages to penetrate your panic, and you shut up. On the inside, though, you're still mentally screaming bloody murder.

"(Y/N), it's okay! I'm not hurt-this is normal!"

"What do you mean, this is normal?!" you cry. "Your-your legs! Your legs are gone! HOW IS THIS NORMAL?!"

You're starting to hyperventilate, and you're pretty sure that you could start screaming any moment now.

"Oh geez," Sans mutters. "I'm starting to see that doing this was a bad idea."

"YA' THINK?!"

"C-calm down, Buttercup," he says. "Look, I'm fine, see? This is normal for me-skeletons can detach their limbs."

At his words, your breathing begins to slow.

"This... this is normal for you?"

"Yeah. Yeah. It was meant to be a joke-you know, the whole 'you have legs don't you' thing-but I kinda forgot that you didn't know that I could do that," he says sheepishly. "Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

You run a hand down your face, trying your hardest to calm your still-racing heartbeat.

"For the love of-you detached your legs?" you ask, straining to keep your voice under control.

"Yeah," he says sheepishly. "And, um... I'm gonna need help putting them back on."

"...Are you serious?"

"Heh heh... yup. I don't think I thought this through very well."

"Clearly," you sigh, crouching down to clean up the mess you'd made. The sound of footsteps distracts you, and you look up to find that Frisk is next to you with a dish rag.

"Don't worry about that," she signs. "I've got it. You just focus on helping out Dunkle with his little... uh... situation."

"Thanks," you breathe, straightening out.

"No problem, sis."

You let her attend to the veggies smeared into the carpet, and turn your attention back to your boyfriend. He... kind of looks like a scolded puppy.

"So..." you say slowly. "This is a question I never thought I'd ask, but uh... where are your legs?"

A dusting of blue crosses his cheekbones and he looks away. Then he coughs nervously and nudges his head towards the rug in the center of the floor. You turn to look behind you, and sure enough, there's a pair of legs sitting in the middle of the floor, completely detached from their pelvis. You take a moment to stare at them, watching as one of his askew pink slippers slowly slides off of one of his feet.

"Well... okay, then," you mutter to yourself. "This is... um... unorthodox, but... it shouldn't be that hard, right?"

You shake your head to clear it and go to fetch Sans' legs. The moment you touch them... they flinch. You shriek and jump backwards, completely unprepared for them to move like that.

"U-uh... Sans?" you ask, your voice shaking. "They... they're moving."

You hear him take a shaky breath behind you, and his voice seems tight when he answers you.

"Yeah, that's normal. I-uh... They're still a part of me. I can still feel them, and have limited control of them," he explains.

"Oh."

Not knowing what else to say, you slowly edge back towards them, your body tense to the breaking point.

"U-uh... could you try to stay still?" you mutter.

"...I can try," he replies.

...You don't like how uncertain he sounds. Frisk is off to one side of the room, her shoulders shaking as she laughs at the two of you. Oh yeah, this is just hilarious. Freaky, weird, and uncomfortable... and hilarious. Sure. Thanks, Frisk.

You take a deep breath and reach out for them again, using the space between the tibia and fibula to pick them up. They flinch again as you touch them, but this time, you're prepared. You keep a firm hold of them, and turn to bring them back to your boyfriend.

You're a little surprised when you catch sight of him. His jaw is clenched so hard you think his teeth may shatter, and his face is so blue that it looks as if he'd fallen face-first into a vat of blue dye. In the moment that you divert your attention, his legs almost slip out of your grasp. You quickly catch your mistake, though, and readjust your grip. Sans' legs buck, and he makes a kind of strangled moaning sound as your skin slides against bare bone.

"Sh-shit," he gasps. He presses a hand hard against his mouth, his blush glowing even brighter. Your eyes widen, and you can feel your own cheeks growing hot. From the corner of your eye, you can see Frisk slowly peeling away from the living room, taking her food upstairs.

"U-uh... Sans?" you ask. "Are you...?"

"I'm fine," he mutters, looking away. "I'm fine. Just hurry u-ugh~"

His speech deteriorates into a moan, his fists balling by his sides. You blink in confusion, and glance down at the legs in your hands... and back up at Sans. Eventually, you start to connect the dots. You blush, and try to resist the urge to drop the legs where you stand. But just in case you're wrong, you decide to test your theory. You bite your lip, and then, very gently... run your thumb down his fibula. Sans reacts instantly.

"H-Hah~"

He growls under his breath and screws his eyesockets shut, his fists grabbing handfuls of the couch's loose green fabric.

"G-god, Buttercup," he mutters. "What're you tryin' to do, torture me?"

"No," you squeak, you face burning. "I-I just... I was just... u-uh..."

"As you have probably figured out," he says, breathing heavily, "my bones... are kinda sensitive to touch."

"S-sorry," you stammer.

Not again, you tell yourself silently. Not again. It was too close the first time. God, what am I doing?!

With your face on fire, you close the distance between you and the couch, and shove Sans' legs at him.

"Here-just take them!" you exclaim.

"What, you're not gonna help me put them back on?"

...Doing that would require looking up his pants.

Not only is your face burning, but now your ears are, as well.

"Nope. You're on your own, bone-boy."

You stalk back into the kitchen, deciding that getting yourself another plate would be infinitely better than being in the same room with him as he... uh... puts his legs back on. You hear two more very distinctive popping sounds, followed by an enormous sigh of relief. You unintentionally echo the sound, glad that this whole situation is over.

Sans grunts as he gets up from the couch, and a few moments later, you find yourself the subject of a backwards hug, his sternum pressed into your back, and his hands meeting across your chest. You stiffen, but then force yourself to relax. This is normal. He's your boyfriend-he's allowed to give you random hugs. Even... uh... after something weird like that.

"Thanks," he says quietly, his breath hot against your ear.

"No problem," you mumble. You'd rather forget the whole ordeal.

"I really am sorry about scaring you like that."

"It's fine."

"You aren't mad at me, are you?"

"No," you say, a single huff of laughter escaping you. "No, I'm not mad. Weirded out, maybe, but not mad."

"I'm glad you gave me a hand. Or rather... gave me a leg, right?"

"For crying out loud, Sans!"

"Sorry, sorry," he says, chuckling. You sigh and lean back into his embrace, enjoying the feeling of warmth that emanates from him.

"Please don't do that again," you say quietly.

"Alright-I won't do the legs next time."

"Sans..."

"Next time, I want to get... ahead in life."

Sans takes his hands off of you for a moment, and you jump as an especially large popping sound comes from directly behind you.

If he did what I think he did...

You slowly turn around, and, sure enough... he's holding his head in his hands. Literally. His head isn't attached to his body anymore. You take a deep breath, count to ten, and slowly let it out again.

"...Too much?" he asks nervously, noting the look of restrain on your face. Instead of answering him, you give him an icy stare. "Too much. Got'cha."

You close your eyes and rub your temples while Sans puts his head back on his shoulders, another popping sound announcing the return of some kind of normalcy.

"Your food's getting cold," you note, attempting a change of subject.

"Oh... I can't have that, can I? Wouldn't want to let your wonderful cooking go to waste," he says. He goes to walk back into the living room, but then hesitates at the last moment to glance at you, an uncertain look on his face. Then he sighs and turns back completely, all thoughts of leaving cast from his head.

"On a scale of one to ten, with ten being the worst, just how bad did I mess up today?" he asks quietly, shuffling his feet.

"...What?" you ask. "What do you mean?"

"Well... y'know... this is technically our first day as a couple, and I'm pretty sure I completely ruined it."

"What? No," you say. "Well... okay, you might've goofed up just a tiny bit. Two. Okay? That's it. Just a two. And it would've been a one, but then you almost made my heart stop with that whole leg thing."

"...So we're okay?"

"Of course we are," you say, smiling at your extremely relieved looking boyfriend. "If you want to get rid of me, you're going to have to try a lot harder than that."

"Get rid of you?! No, is that what you thought-?"

"That was a joke," you say quickly.

"...Oh."

"See? Now we're even. We each had a joke go horribly wrong today."

"Heh. Yeah, I guess so."

The two of you lapse into silence, each of you staring at the other. Then Sans' cheeks start to turn blue, and he blinks.

"I'm... ah... gonna go back to the living room now," he mutters, jabbing a thumb behind him.

"You do that."

"Are we... um... still on for movie night?"

"We are. Well, that is, if you think the couch has room for two more."

"Oh, yeah. Right. Paps and the kid. But yeah, I'd say the couch can fit four, if we squeeze."

"Sounds good."

"...So long as you sit next to me."

You chuckle, and assure him that you will.

***

The four of you are all smashed onto the couch together, watching a movie that Frisk and Papyrus had picked out. ...This couch definitely wasn't made to fit more than three. You've shoulder-to-shoulder with Frisk on one side, and Sans is so close to you on the other that you can feel each of his ribs as they dig into your skin. Not that you're complaining, or anything-Sans has one of his arms wrapped around you, and you're enjoying that ever-present feeling of warmth that seems to be flowing from him.

As for the movie... well... you can tell that it was meant for kids. It's one of those "spy kid" movies. And, while you're sure that the special effects were top-of-the-line when the film came out, everything in it seems extremely cheesy and fake to you. And it's not even a Star-Wars kind of cheesy, where the outdated FXs can be overlooked due to the awesome storyline-the plot of this movie is absolute garbage. Papyrus and Frisk are enjoying it, though, and you suppose their opinions are the only ones that matter-you and Sans aren't exactly paying the movie much attention.

He'd started playing with your hair a few minutes ago, and after a contented sigh from you, hasn't stopped. He seems to be trying to French braid it at the moment. His bony hands are perfect for intricate work like this, but you don't think he knows what he knows what he's doing-you're fairly sure that you're going to find yourself with a tangled mess the next time you look in the mirror. You make another contented humming sound as the tips of his fingers barely graze your scalp, leaving you with that nice tingly feeling that comes with it.

The two of you continue on like this for a while, with you leaning against Sans while he twists it this way and that. After a while, though... you start to get a little bit uncomfortable. It feels like someone's poking you over and over again in the gut. Cramps. You sigh and shift in your seat, silently grumbling to yourself.

Must've been something in the squash.

"You okay?" Sans whispers, picking up on your agitation.

"Yeah," you mumble. "I'm fine."

You settle down again, and allow Sans to keep messing with your hair. He's switched gears, and instead of trying to style it, is just running his fingers through it. Honestly, you prefer it that way. It feels better, and you don't have to worry about trying to fight with hair knots later.

A few minutes later, you get another cramp. This one is a lot worse than the first-it's as if someone just punched you in the gut. Your breath hitches and you tense up, waiting anxiously for it to pass. Whatever was in that squash, it's not agreeing with you.

"...You sure you're okay?" Sans asks again, his concern evident in his hushed voice.

"Yeah," you mumble again. "I'm fine-it's just stomach cramps."

"Something in the food?"

"Seems like it."

A few minutes later, though, you're proven wrong. There's a very familiar clenching in your abdomen, and then... a warm wetness from between your thighs. You freeze, a flash of panic surging through you.

...Your period. How could you have forgotten that you were supposed to get your period this week?!

Quick as lightning, you stand up and rush up the stairs, desperate to get to the bathroom. Sans calls something after you, but you're too panicked and embarrassed to actually hear him. You lock the bathroom door behind you, and go to sit on the throne. Sure enough, there's a circle of red adorning your underwear.

Oh god, I hope I didn't get any on the couch, you think. You check your pants-nothing. You sigh in relief, and slowly allow yourself to relax. Besides ruining yet another pair of underwear, there's nothing to be concerned about. It's just your period. It's not like you haven't gone through this before.

From your seat on the toilet, you lean over towards the sink, groping for the handle to its cabinet. You swing it open and reach inside, searching for the bag of pads or tampons that you always keep under the sink... only to realize that this isn't your sink.

You slowly swing the cabinet shut again, a sinking feeling accompanying your worsening cramps. You don't have any pads or tampons with you. In fact... you don't remember the last time you'd actually even seen one. You don't remember packing any in your bag on that fateful day you'd fallen down, and they're strangely absent in Toriel's house...

Well, that's just great, you think dryly. What am I going to do, sit on the toilet for a week?

The mental image that the thought brings is absolutely ridiculous. You can almost imagine camping out in here for the duration of your period, sleeping in the bathtub and having Frisk slip you meals underneath the door.

No... I have to have at least one, right? I can't be this unlucky.

This isn't the first time that you've forgotten about your period. It always manages to surprise you, without fail-you go through underwear at a ridiculously fast rate. As such, you're always sure to have pads or tampons with you. You always found really creative places to put them. You did the standard stuff-a dedicated pad pocket in your backpacks and purses, etc... but you were so paranoid of being caught unaware that you also put them in more unorthodox places. You'd put them in the glove box of your car, in the bathrooms of the stores that you visited often (one of the employees told you that they found your stash one day-that was embarrassing), under seats, in bookcases... you were a pad goddess.

But the one time that you actually need them... you forgot to pack them. How ironic. You sigh. It doesn't hurt to double check. Maybe there really is one in your backpack, but you just missed it. Well, either way, you can't leave the bathroom in this state. And so, that means...

"Frisk!" you holler. "Frisk, can you come here, please?!"

There's a distant groan from downstairs, and you can hear the room go silent as someone pauses the movie. Rapid footsteps hurry up the stairs, and then there's a five-pattern knock on the bathroom door. (Since Frisk can't tell you she's there, the two of you developed a special knock so you can tell it's her.)

"So, uh... I have a little bit of a-uh... a situation," you say. "Would you mind getting me my backpack, please?"

You can hear a giggle from the other side of the door, followed by three distinctive knocks. In other words, a 'yes.'

"Thanks, Frisk."

She giggles again. Seeing as you're asking for your backpack from the bathroom, you're pretty sure she knows exactly what's going on. Then you hear her head back downstairs, Sans' and Papyrus's voices heralding her arrival back downstairs. When she returns to you, you take the risk of standing up to go and unlock the door for her. You crack it just enough for her to pass your backpack to you, and then you relock the door and return to your throne.

Come on, there's gotta be something in here, you think, sifting through it. Let's see... laptop, journal, pens and pencils, extra hoodie, headphones, snacks... No pads or tampons. Well... shit. What am I supposed to do now? Use a towel?

You can't imagine that would end well. As you begin to realize just how screwed you are, you start to feel panic bubbling up in you again.

Oh no. Oh no, this is bad. This is very bad. What am I supposed to do? I can't go out there like this! Oh, this is so embarrassing! What if I have to tell someone that I accidentally forgot-

A sudden knock on the bathroom door jolts you out of your thoughts.

"Hey, uh... (Y/N)?" Sans ask. "You okay in there?"

You shouldn't have jinxed it. You go rigid, trying to find a way-any way-out of this little situation that you've somehow managed to get yourself mixed into. ...You can't come up with anything. Unless you suddenly find yourself able to do Sans' teleportation magic, you're stuck. And if you're stuck, that means... that you're going to need his help.

He's my boyfriend. It's not as if this is taboo, or anything-the subject was bound to come up eventually, you remind yourself. Just tell him you're out of pads. He can go get some from the shop, come back, and boom. Problem solved. Yeah. Sounds simple enough.

"...(Y/N)?" Sans asks again, sounding a little bit worried. "You aren't sick, are you?"

"No, no, I'm fine," you call. "I... well..."

You sigh heavily, and then take a deep breath, readying yourself to brave your embarrassment and explain.

"I-uh... I'm just on my period," you say. "And... I don't have any pads or anything, so... yeah. I'm kind of stuck here."

"...What?"

"I'm on my period," you repeat, fighting to keep your voice steady.

"...You're not makin' any sense, Buttercup," he calls. "Are you sure you're alright? You aren't running a fever or anything, are you?"

"What do you mean, not making any sense?" you ask, confused. "I'm sitting in the bathroom, telling you I'm on my period. The rest should be pretty self-explanatory."

"On your period? But that doesn't make sense. A period is the thing at the end of a sentence, so... I'm lost. What's going on?"

You fall silent. Is he joking right now? It... doesn't sound like it. But then, that means... oh god.

"Sans..." you say slowly, your voice shaking. "You... you don't know what a period is, do you?"

"Like I said, it's the thing at the end of a sentence. Why? Is it some kind of code word or something?" he asks. "C'mon Buttercup, you're starting to scare me. What's going on?"

...He doesn't know what a period is.

You pause, letting that fact sink in. A grown man... who had been discussing magical dicks with you not two hours ago... doesn't know what a period is. But then, he's not really a man, is he-he's a monster.

...Do monsters even get periods?

If they have kids via soul... touching... then you suppose... they wouldn't. And if that's true... then they wouldn't have any pads or tampons anywhere. And if that's true... then...

In a rush of desperation, you frantically dig through your bag. You pull out your laptop and then shrink it into its phone state, pressing your speed-dial button for Alphys. You need to talk to another girl about this. Maybe... maybe it's just Sans. God, you hope it's just Sans.

"...Buttercup?" Sans asks uncertainly. You ignore him, and instead prey that Alphys picks up.

One rings goes by... and then two...

"H-hello?"

"Hey, Alphys, it's me."

"Oh, (Y/N)! Hey, what's up?"

"I-I'm sorry for calling so late, but this is kinda an emergency."

"E-emergency?!" Sans exclaims. Even though he's on the other side of the door, his voice is so loud that he almost sounds as if he's in the room with you. "(Y/N), what's goin' on in there?!"

"No no, it's no problem!" Alphys exclaims. "What's wrong?"

"Well, um... this is kinda embarrassing, but... I'm on my period, and I don't have any pads or tampons on me."

Silence.

"Your... period? Like... that thing at the end of a sentence?"

You're pretty sure your stomach just did a backflip.

No. No, no, no... this isn't possible, you think. Maybe... maybe it's just a dialect difference?

"C-come on, Alphys, don't do this to me," you stammer, trying to remain calm. "A period."

"Uh..."

"A menstrual cycle?"

"(Y/N), I don't know what you're talking about."

"Auntie flow?!" Your voice comes out an octave higher than normal. "Oh god... you really don't know. Monsters don't get periods, do they? Oh god, what am I gonna do, I... I..."

"(Y/N), (Y/N), calm down!" Alphys exclaims. "It's all going to be okay! Just calm down, and explain it to me, alright?"

You take a deep, shaky breath, and slump over in your seat on the toilet.

"Okay... okay..." you mutter.

It isn't the end of the world. If worst comes to worst, you'll just have to hang out in here for four or five days. It's not... that bad...

...You don't believe a word of it. The whole world is ending. Regardless, you soldier forwards.

"Um... it'd probably be faster if I wasn't the one to explain it," you say. "Do you, by any chance... have some kind of medical text books on human biology? Something from the dump?"

"Uh... now that I think about it, I actually think I do! There's this little book collection left over from the last royal scientist-it's got all kinds of stuff on humans and souls on it."

"That's great! Can you look up the menstrual cycle in that?"

"Sure! Just hang on a sec-it shouldn't take too long."

Alphys's side of the conversation goes silent, to be taken over by the sound of footsteps, shifting objects, and finally, the sound of turning paper. While you wait for her to read about your predicament, you turn your attention back to Sans. He may have gone silent in the last few minutes, but you can tell that he's still there. You can hear his unsteady breathing.

"Hey, uh... you okay out there?" you ask. There's a dry chuckle from the other side of the door.

"Yup. Sure. Of course. I'm totally fine. Just... y'know... worrying about my girlfriend, who's barricaded herself in the bathroom," he says heavily. "And is apparently having some kind of human-related emergency that's too traumatizing to actually explain to anyone."

Oh no... I worried him.

"It's not that bad, Sans," you say, trying to sound convincing. "It's actually a normal thing for me-or, uh... human girls in general-but it just caught me unaware, and so..."

"...Normal? Locking yourself in the bathroom is normal for you?"

"As normal as detaching limbs is for skeletons," you say, hoping to lighten the mood with a joke. It seems to work, because you hear a quiet chuckle from the other side of the door.

You're about to say something else, but then you hear the rapid sound of small footsteps.

"Oh, hey kiddo," Sans says. "What's up?"

There's a pause as Frisk signs something at Sans.

"Oh, you know what's going on?" Sans asks.

"MmmHmm."

"Hey Buttercup, the kid says that she can explain it to me, if you're okay with it."

You're not entirely sure how to feel about that offer. You'd given Frisk "the talk" not too long ago, and so it should be fine... but you don't think Sans' sign-language skills are up to par with the technical side of human biology. But... seeing as it would spare you a mountain of embarrassment... you decide to let Frisk give it a shot.

"Go ahead, Sis," you mutter.

You can hear the faint slapping of skin-on-skin as Frisk goes into a heated explanation. Even though you can't see what's being said... your face is already starting to burn. After a minute has gone by... the hallway goes silent.

"Uh... I don't think I understood most of that," Sans says, a tremor to his voice. "But... the one thing that I did understand... is that you're bleeding. But that can't be right, right? I just translated wrong, right? I mean, you're not injured, are you?"

"Well... no, I'm not injured," you say. "But I am bleeding. Though it's probably not in the way that you think I am-"

"You're bleeding?!" he yells.

"Yes, but-"

"What are you doing in there by yourself, then?! Let me help you!"

His concern is touching, but the last thing you want is him keeping you company while you sit on the throne.

"No, Sans, I'm fine. This is normal, I'm just-"

"What do you mean, this is normal?! Humans bleed when they're hurt! HOW IS THIS NORMAL?!"

...You're getting a really strong sense of déjà vu right now.

"Look, I'll explain in just a second, let me just-"

"(Y/N), are you still there?"

You sigh in relief, and put the phone back up to your ear.

"Yeah, yeah I'm here. What'd you find?"

"...Everything I wanted to know, and more. Much, much more. I think I'm scarred for life now."

You laugh, both from relief and embarrassment.

"But you understand what's going on now, right?"

"Yes, unfortunately."

"I was calling you to ask if I could borrow some of your pads or something, but, uh... I guess that's not really an option now, huh?"

"Pads? According to this, they're just adhesive, disposable, cotton or cloth strips used to soak up your... uh... blood. A lot like toilet paper, actually-just more comfortable."

"That's right. But I don't have any with me, so I'm kind of stuck in the bathroom right now-"
Sans bangs on the door, and you can hear the barely restrained panic in his voice.

"(Y/N), what the hell is going on in there?!"

Your sister sounds as if she's trying to calm him down, but Sans has worked himself into such a tizzy that he appears to be inconsolable.

"...Sans is going nuts. I haven't had time to explain what's going on," you tell Alphys, trying your best to not feel guilty about ignoring your frantic boyfriend.

"Well... these seem easy enough to manufacture. How many do you need?"

"Wait... are you saying you can make them?"

"Of course! (Y/N), I built Mettaton-making these should be a piece of cake."

"Alphys, you're a lifesaver!" you breathe. "Thank you so much."

"Aww, it's no problem. How many do you need?"

You run the math in your head. An average of four maxi pads every 24 hours, for four or five days... that's about 20. But just to be safe...

"Can you do 25? That should get me through this month."

"...That's a lot of pads. And, as an extension... a lot of blood. Boy, I wouldn't want to be human. This sounds awfully messy."

"Heh. You have noooo idea," you say.

"Alright, if I hurry, I can probably get them done in half an hour. Is that okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I can fend for myself for half an hour. Maybe I'll take a shower, or something."

"Okay. Send Sans to pick them up, alright?"

"I'll do that. Thanks, Alphys."

"No problem, (Y/N). Bye!"

"Bye."

The line goes dead, and you return your phone back to your bag. You let go of a breath you hadn't known you'd been holding.

Everything's gonna be okay. Alphys is on the job, and I'm not going to be stranded here for too much longer.

"(Y/N), I'm serious!" Sans calls. "If you don't explain what's going on right now, I'm going to teleport in there and find out myself!"

"Okay, okay!" you exclaim. "Calm down, Sans. I was just talking to Alphys-I've got everything under control now, and I can explain everything. But if I'm going to do that, you need to stay calm, alright?"

"But if you're hurt in there..."

"Sans, I'm fine. I promise I'm fine. I wouldn't lie to you about something like that."

"...Alright," he sighs. "I trust you. Just... you know... if anything were to happen to you..."

"I know," you say, a hint of amusement to your voice. "You're really cute when you're worried, you know that?"

There's a spluttering sound on the other side of the door.

"C-cute?! Worrying makes me cute?!"

"Extremely."

You can hear Frisk giggle. She knocks four times rapidly on the bathroom door, letting you know that she's going to leave now. You knock the counter beside you three times, telling her that you understand. She giggles again and heads downstairs, her footsteps fading away.

With your sister out of the equation, you clear your throat, and try to find the words to... um... educate your boyfriend.

"So..." you say eventually. "Before I get into the extremely gross stuff... just how much do you know about... um... how humans do it?"

"...What? This again? Is now really the time-"

"I promise, this has everything to do with my situation right now. Just... uh...?"

"Let's see. Um... let's say you-a-uh... a human of the female variety-has a donut. And... a male would have a hotdog," he says. "And then the male would insert said hot dog... into the donut... repeatedly, and then the girl would get pregnant."

"Well... you're not wrong," you say, wincing at how cringy this whole conversation is. "But it's definitely a whooole lot more complicated than that. So, um... when you're talking about human reproduction, you have to look at it at a molecular level..."

*Le Discussion Skip (Because actually explaining it would... like... take forever, and stuff)*

"And so, once a month, the uterus sheds its lining, and I bleed out of my... nether regions... for four or five days," you finish. "And so, here I am... on my period, but without anything to, um... contain it."

Dead silence. And then...

"Oh."

"...Yeah."

"And so the cramps were..."

"Yup."

"And so right now, you're bleeding... from your... oh."

"That's right."

"So that's a thing now."

"I... guess? It was kind of always a thing."

"...Right."

An awkward silence ensues that you're not entirely sure how to break.

"So... are you gonna be okay?" he asks eventually. "Like, can I... get you anything?"

...He's so sweet.

There's a ding from your phone, and you wake it up to find a text from Alphys. 'They're done.'

"Actually, yeah. Alphys just finished making those pads, and it'd be awesome if you could pick them up. I don't like being stuck in here."

"Of course," he says.

"Oh! And if you happen to go by a grocery store, can you get me some chocolate?"

"Oh...kay?"

"And maybe some cookie mix, too."

"Alright. Sweets and blood. Sure, why not?"

"And some aspirin."

"Got'cha."

"And... I think that's it."

"Okay, got it."

"...Thanks, Sans."

"Heh. No problem, Buttercup."

"No, seriously. Thanks for... I dunno... taking all of this so well."

"Hey, you just learned I can take off my head. I'd say this is just about the same kind of thing."

"Huh. I guess so."

"...I'm going to get going, then."

"You do that."

"I'll be back in the blink of an eye."

"Okay."

"...You're going to be alright, right?"

"Yes," you tell him, giggling. "I'll be fine."

"Okay. I'm leaving now."

"Bye."

"...You sure you'll be okay-"

"Just go, Sans!"

"Alright, alright, I'm going!"

There's a soft pop, and then the hallway goes silent. You sigh, and lean back in your seat on the throne. Crisis avoided.