Your Perspective

You and Sans are back at the clearing where the party took place, facing your somewhat sheepish looking group of friends. They had originally been excited to see the two of you—they were probably drowning in the anticipation of how their little "game" had turned out—but with one look at your face, they all became very interested in their feet. And for good reason, you're sure. You wouldn't exactly say that you're enraged with them, but you're definitely more than a little annoyed. They just had to make themselves known at the worst possible moment, didn't they?

"So," you say slowly, taking a moment to look into each and every one of their faces. "Is anyone going to explain what exactly is going on here?"

They all start to look at each other, none of them willing to step up and bear the brunt of your anger.

You glance over at Sans, wondering if he has anything to add. Your heart sinks a little when you see that he's still stuck in Hoodieville, and is as far away from you as he possibly can be. The chain of your handcuffs are taut, and don't so much as rattle as he shifts nervously in place. Oh, the sight of that gleaming chain is enough to make steam come out of your ears.

"And will somebody please get these things off of us?!" you exclaim suddenly, raising your wrist as if to remind them. "My wrist is completely rubbed raw!"

The assembled group of monsters flinch at your tone, and then focus their attention on your little sister. She has an extremely nervous look on her face, so scared of your reaction that she seems to be rooted to her spot in front of Toriel. With a gentle shove from Alphys, though, she scurries towards you, her hands fumbling as she hurriedly removes the keys from her back pocket. She unlocks your handcuffs as quickly as she can, allowing them to fall unceremoniously to the floor. She doesn't even bother to pick them up—as soon as they're off of you, she runs back to stand next to Alphys, apparently craving the relative safety that comes with numbers.

You sigh in relief once the handcuffs are off and gently rub at your wrist, trying to banish the redness that those blasted handcuffs had caused. You glance over at Sans again, to see that he's stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets. He's completely withdrawn, and it just makes you angrier with the assembled monsters.

"Explanation," you growl. "Now."

You stare pointedly at Alphys, thinking that she's probably the most qualified to answer your questions. Frisk may have come up with the idea for the game (this has your sister's randomness written all over it), but something tells you that Alphys was the mastermind behind the concept—you know how much she likes to play match-maker.

"W-well," she stammers. "W-well, you see..."

She sighs, and takes a moment to clean off her glasses. You can almost see the gears turning in her head—she's trying to figure out how best to break the news to you. After nearly a minute of thinking it through, she swallows hard, and pushes her glasses back up her snout.

"I-I—w-we, well..." She stops, sighs, and screws her eyes shut.

"I ship you two, okay?!" she exclaims suddenly. Her eyes fly open again, and they have a manic look to them that you know all too well. "You two are so cute together! The instant I first saw you two interacting with each other, I knew that you would be perfect for each other as a couple! So I... um... kept tabs on the two of you, and started plotting ways to get you two to fall in love with each other."

Plotting, huh? Great choice of words, Alphys.

"Alphys," you start, planning to scold her. But before you can, she cuts you off.

"B-but none of my ideas really seemed like they would work, and as time went on... I-I realized that I didn't need to get you two together! You already liked each other—you just didn't know what t-to do about it!" she exclaims. "It was obvious that you wanted to be in a relationship, but neither of you confessed! It was infuriating, watching you two awkwardly side-step your love for each other, each of you waiting for the other to make the first move. So, I decided that I needed to give the two of you a little push in the right direction, and get you two into a situation that would guarantee that someone confessed. But if I was going to do that, I was going to need some help."

Alphys glances down at Frisk, and puts a hand on her shoulder.

"I kinda felt like I needed your sister's permission before I started to mess with your love life, so I texted Frisk, and told her that I thought you and Sans should get together. She completely agreed with me, and decided to help me out—she came up with the idea for the party, and this little hide-and-seek game."

A flicker of a memory suddenly comes to you—when you had gone over to Sans' house for that first spaghetti dinner, Frisk had gotten a text from Alphys. Now you finally know what that mischievous smile was about.

"Yeah," Frisk signs, looking at her shoes. "I'm sorry about all of that, but... I really liked the idea of Dunkle being your boyfriend, Sis. He's a great guy."

"Yeah, he really is," you agree, before you can stop yourself. Your cheeks grow hot as your friends give you knowing looks, and you think you hear Toriel chuckle a little bit.

Frisk looks up at you, a little bit of relief shining in her eyes.

"So... you're not mad?" she asks you, biting her lip.

"No," you sigh, stepping forward to ruffle her hair. "I'm not mad. Honestly, I think we needed the help a little."

More than a little, actually. If Frisk hadn't handcuffed the two of you to each other, the odds are that you would have never told Sans that anything was wrong, and Sans would never have confessed. If the handcuffs weren't there, you would've run away the moment you were upset, and Sans probably would have teleported the moment he got flustered. So, honestly... you're kind of grateful for Alphys' and your sister's nosiness.

The only thing that still bugs you is that they were spying on you during such a sensitive moment. You're not quite ready to let that go.

"But did you have to follow us?" you ask, looking at Alphys again.

"Y-yes!" she exclaims. "W-we had to be there, t-to help you guys out if things didn't go right. Like, if things got awkward, Fr-Frisk was going to take your attention off of it by distracting you."

"But if things went well—and they admittedly did—that's still a huge invasion of our privacy," you point out, smoldering a little bit. That's an understatement. They would have heard everything that you and Sans said to each other. Wait. Now that you think about it...

Your face pales as you begin to realize the implications of their listening in to you. Sans and you had discussed the resets. If they were listening the entire time, then they must have heard you talking about it. But if that's the case, then why aren't they...?

"DON'T WORRY, (Y/N)!" Papyrus exclaims, beaming at you. "WE RESPECTED YOUR PRIVACY. I MADE SURE THAT WE WERE EXACTLY 25 YARDS AWAY FROM YOU AT ALL TIMES—COMPLETELY OUT OF EARSHOT. AFTER ALL, WE WOULDN'T WANT TO INTERRUPT ANYTHING, WOULD WE?"

...The irony of that statement is silently killing you inside.

"U-uh, we're sorry about, um... interrupting your kiss," Alphys stammers. "That wasn't... intentional."

"WAIT, THEY WERE ABOUT TO KISS?" Papyrus asks. "BUT A KISS IS WHEN SOMEONE TOUCHES THEIR LIPS TO SOMEONE ELSE'S CHEEK, ISN'T IT? (Y/N) WAS NOWHERE NEAR MY BROTHER'S CHEEK—WHATEVER THAT WAS, IT DIDN'T LOOK LIKE A KISS."

Papyrus, you precious cinnamon roll, you.

"A-anyway, like Papyrus said, we were careful not to overhear you," Alphys says, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "We just wanted to make sure all of our hard work paid off."

Everyone nods in agreement.

"And all of you were in on this?" you ask, looking around at the gathered monsters.

"YES, WE WERE ALL PART OF IT!" Papyrus exclaims. "ONCE FRISK FOUND OUT, SHE CAME TO FIND ME. SHE WANTED MY HELP IN GETTING THAT LAZY BONES TO EXPRESS HIMSELF—FOR ONLY I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, KNOWS HOW TO GET MY BROTHER TO DO ANYTHING."

Sans chuckles a little at that, and you're relived to see that he's putting his hood down. He's still blushing (he's so adorable when he's flustered!), but he's apparently gotten over his embarrassment enough to show his face again.

"Frisk told me what was going on when she gave me my invitation," Toriel says, laying a hand on Frisk's other shoulder. "Sans is such a nice young man—he has my full approval."

The 'nice young man' pulls at the neck of his shirt, and the glow on his face brightens at Toriel's words.

"I found out about Frisk's plan when you delivered my invitation to me. She left me comprehensive instructions on what was going to happen at the party, and swore me to secrecy," Grillby says, a slight smile forming on his shifting face. "But I knew that Sans was interested in you far before that. Whenever he came to the bar, you were the only thing he would talk about, you know."

"C'mon Grillbz," Sans protests. "Don't—"

"And do you remember that day that he first brought you to my establishment?" Grillby asks, completely ignoring Sans. "Well, he was willing to fight me out of jealousy for you. That is why there has been so much tension between us for the last few week or so."

"...What?" you ask, shocked.

You're not sure what you should be more surprised about—the fact that Sans would fight his best friend over you, or the fact that said best friend had given him a reason to be jealous. (He wouldn't have been jealous if Grillby didn't show signs of attraction towards you, right?)

You turn to Sans, waiting for him to tell you that he's lying. When you see that he's very pointedly looking away, and that his hands are inching towards his hood, though...

He would really beat up Grillby for me?

...Something about that strikes you as romantic.

"That's kind of sweet," you say softly, so that only Sans can hear. He goes rigid, and then sighs, his hands quickly returning to his pockets. He takes a less-than-covert side-step towards you, so that the two of you are barely brushing elbows. The gesture is cute enough that you find yourself instinctively twirling your hair.

When you eventually turn your attention back to your friends, the smiles on their faces makes your face burn. It's bad enough that they ship the two of you—why do they have to be so obvious about it?

"S-so, uh... what about you two?" you ask Mettaton and Undyne, trying to shift the attention away from yourself. "I only met the two of you today."

They exchange a look, and a smile appears on Undyne's face. Mettaton, on the other hand, seems vaguely annoyed.

"Alphys," they both say, in perfect sync.

"Alphys gets really pumped up about things like this," Undyne says, beaming at her girlfriend. "I didn't really care about you punks, but I'd do anything to help my Alphie out."

Alphys blushes profusely, and absentmindedly adjusts her glasses from their place on her snout.

"That's one way of putting it. Alphys just wouldn't shut up about the two of you," Mettaton sighs, fixing his hair. "Every time I talked to her, it was (Y/N) this, Sans that. It eventually got to be so irritating that I agreed to help her, if only to speed the process up a bit. The handcuffs are courtesy of me, by the way."

Somehow, that doesn't surprise you. Mettaton seems to be the kind of guy that would keep a pair of handcuffs around for, uh... less-than-innocent reasons.

"Oh, but don't get me wrong darling," Mettaton says quickly. "Now that I see the two of you together, I can see that my effort was well placed—you two are absolutely adorable."

"Yeah, you two weenies seem like you'll be fine," Undyne agrees, fixing her single eye on you. "And sure, you're kinda cute together. No one beats out me and my girlfriend, though!"

And with that, she sweeps Alphys up for a kiss. Alphys shrieks in surprise, and then laughs as Undyne nuzzles the side of her face.

"Not in front of the children!" Toriel exclaims, turning to face them. Then she flinches, and gives you a kind of apologetic look. "Child. Not in front of the child—not in front of Frisk."

You feel that your sister is old enough to handle seeing people kiss, but you don't go to correct your goat mom.

"Anyway, darling, speaking of girlfriends," Mettaton says, waving off Undyne and Alphys' PDA, "are you two official?"

"...What?" you ask. The question catches you completely off guard.

"Are you two a couple?" Mettaton presses, rephrasing his question. You blink, his words going in one ear and out the other. Mettaton chuckles and gives you a knowing smile, before trying again. "Is Sans your boyfriend?"

As your muddled brain finally understands the meaning behind his words, your blush picks up a notch.

"I—we—are we? I don't—boyfriend? Maybe? Yes? I don't know?" you squeak.

You glance over at Sans, to see that his eyesockets have a kind of glazed look to them—he's just as unprepared for this as you are. You only just admitted your feelings to one another—does that make you a couple? Or is there some kind of official 'do you want to be my boyfriend' kind of junk you have to ask him? Or do monsters have some kind of tradition for that? In some human cultures, a boy gives the person he likes a ring to prove that they're dating. Do monsters do that? Are you missing something? What if you screwed something up at some point, and—

Sans gently takes your hand in his own, and pulls you towards him so that your sides are touching. When you glance over at him, he's staring in the opposite direction, and his blush is so bright that you could use his face as a flashlight. The sight of it draws a collective "aww" from the assembled monsters.

"I guess I'll take that as a 'yes,'" Mettaton purrs, looking approvingly at Sans.

Sans is my boyfriend.

You're pretty sure your heart stopped beating for a moment. When it starts up again, it's pounding so hard that you're pretty sure that Sans can hear it from his place next to you. A crazy smile finds its way your face, and you're so happy at the moment that you think that joy must be radiating out of you.

Sans is my boyfriend!

It doesn't feel real. Finally, after weeks of wishing for it to happen, it's actually become a reality. Sans is your boyfriend. Just because it's so unbelievable, you feel like telling yourself that fact one more time. Sans is your boyfriend.

"Well, uh... this is great and all, but I think I'm about ready to get out of here," Sans tells you, his voice low so as not to be overheard.

"All the attention's too much for you, huh?" you tease him.

"Heh, yeah—maybe a little," he admits.

"I'd leave with you, but if we leave together, they may assume... things," you say.

"Things?" he asks, a hint of amusement to his voice. "What kinds of things d'you mean, Buttercup?"
"Well, y'know... things," you repeat, your face heating up. Sans chuckles, and playfully bumps his hip into yours.

"Like, naughty kinds of things?" he drawls.

"Saaans!" you complain.

Frisk must have overheard him, because she feigns the biggest yawn that she can manage, and gently taps Toriel's arm.

"Oh, my child, are you tired?" she asks. Frisk nods, sneaking a glance at you from the corner of her eye. "It is starting to get late. Perhaps we should all turn in for tonight, yes?"

The rest of your group murmurs their approval. You sigh, your relief so strong that it's practically tangible. It's been a loooong day, and you're more than ready to reunite with your sweet, sweet bed. You'll have to thank Frisk later for her intervention.

"Yeah, that sounds like a g-good idea," Alphys says, separating herself from Undyne. "We'll see you g-guys later, I guess."

Alphys and Undyne walk in your direction, apparently on their way back towards the Hotlands. As they pass, Alphys takes a moment to whisper something into your ear.

"Make sure you text me later, okay? I want to hear all about what happened between you two lovebirds."

You can feel yourself blush at her statement, but you assure her that you will.

They continue on their way, and Mettaton is quick to follow them. Just before he would have passed you, though, he stops and holds out a slip of paper to you.

"We didn't really get to talk much at this party, did we darling?" he asks. "I have something that I'd very much like to discuss with you sometime—a business proposition, if you will."

You raise an eyebrow and take the paper from him. There's a phone number written in pink glitter-gel pen on it. While you find the pink writing to be a little bit gaudy, you have to admit that Mettaton has really pretty handwriting—his cursive is immaculate.

"A business proposition, huh?" you echo. You can feel Sans stiffen beside you—he doesn't seem too enthused at the idea of you entering business with the 'rust bucket.' "What kind of proposition?"

"Well darling, your singing is absolutely stellar," he starts, "and I've been looking to add some variety to the shows at my resort—you have heard of the MTT resort, I assume?"

"Yes," you say. "I've been to the department store a couple of times."

"Well, I'm looking to add a new show to the lineup at the restaurant's evening entertainment," he explains, "and a performance from you may be just what it needs. It could be a single-night affair, if you wanted, and there would, of course, be certain benefits to it. That could take the form of monetary compensation, if you so wished... but I have something else that you may prefer."

He hesitates for a moment, building up dramatic suspense.

"Like, perhaps... an all-expenses-paid first date at the MTT's premiere restaurant?"

"Oh my goodness, is not that place very expensive?" Toriel asks, one of her paws finding its way to her mouth.

"That it is, Miss Dreemur," Mettaton purrs.

"Please, call me Toriel. And that is very generous of you, Mettaton."

"Oh no, it would be the least I could do, if it meant getting (Y/N) to perform for me. I've seen the crowd she draws at Grillby's—if I televised her performance, my ratings would undoubtedly go through the roof!"

You're not sure you're ready to take on a bigger audience, but at the same time, Toriel is right—the MTT restaurant is extremely fancy (albeit it Mettaton themed). If it were really all expenses paid, that's an offer you feel you don't want to pass up on.

"What do you think?" you quietly ask Sans.

"Well, as much as I hate to admit it... it sounds like he's giving you a pretty good deal," he tells you begrudgingly.

"Oh, you don't have to decide right now, darling!" Mettaton exclaims. "Just give me a call if you decide you're interested, and we can iron out all the details."

"Alright, I'll keep that in mind," you say.

Mettaton gives you a smile worthy of a celebrity, and then turns and gives the rest of the group something you can only call a princess-like wave.

"Until next time, beauties!" he cries. And with that, he hurries off after Undyne and Alphys, his long stride allowing him to easily catch up to them.

You watch them until they vanish around a bend in the tunnel, and then the rest of you turn as one, and start your long trek back to Snowdin (and, eventually, all the way back to the ruins).

***

According to your phone, it's almost 11:30 by the time you make it back to the door of the ruins. In the time that it had taken you to walk back, Frisk had almost fallen asleep standing up (she had apparently been even more tired than she had let on). Toriel ended up having to carry her. She actually seems to be really happy about that, though—she's smiling, and the way she's rubbing Frisk's back is reminiscent of your mother...

No, don't think about that. Your past is not worth thinking about. Your hand tightens around Sans,' and the pressure of it helps you to clear your head. You glance over at him, and a smile easily lights on your face at the sight of him stepping in time with you. You'd thought that he was going to stop in Snowdin with Papyrus, but he'd insisted on walking you all the way to your door. You're reminded—once again—of how sweet he can be.

"Well, we are here," Toriel whispers, keeping her voice low to prevent Frisk from waking. "It was really ice to see you again, Sans."

Sans chuckles, and you're close enough to him that you can feel his ribcage vibrating as a result.

"Wow Tori. That joke really... tickled my funny bone," he retorts. You roll your eyes, but, as always, can't help but smile.

"All joking aside, though, you should start thinking about getting home—it is very late, and I think your brother may start to miss you if you are gone to0 long," she says.

"Sure thing, Tori," he says.

Toriel seems to be waiting for him to turn and go. When he doesn't, she gives him a knowing smile.

"Well, I am going to put Frisk to bed. Come in when you are ready, (Y/N)."

She pulls open the ruin doors, and hurries inside. (You're pretty sure that you saw her glance over her shoulder, though.)

"Today was pretty intense, huh?" you say, a tired sigh escaping from you.

"You can say that again," he agrees, echoing your sigh. "I think I'm going to take it easy tomorrow—maybe do a movie marathon."

"Am I invited?" you ask, smiling at him. He scoffs and rolls his irises, taking his hand out of yours to playfully cross his arms.

"Nope. I don't allow devastatingly beautiful humans over on the weekends," he drawls.

Did he just call me beautiful? you ask yourself, a smile crossing your face. He did, didn't he.

You sigh dramatically, laying a hand across your forehead.

"Oh dear, whatever will I do? I guess I'll just have to write on my laptop and eat ice cream..."

"Oh no, you're starting to sound like Mettaton," he says. "But in all seriousness, of course you're invited. You don't really have to ask anymore, do you?"

"Heh, I guess not," you say. You've actually barged into his house so many times these last few weeks that the skelebros don't even keep their front door locked anymore.

The silence that follows your statement eventually starts to stretch, and even after all you've been through today, it still manages to somehow feel awkward.

"So, uh... you really should start heading home," you say eventually. "It's a long walk back to Snowdin."

"...I can teleport, remember?"

"Oh... right."

The awkward silence returns. The two of you end up staring at each other, completely at a loss for words.

"I'm gonna go," Sans says quickly, rubbing the back of his skull.

"That's probably a good idea," you say, laughing awkwardly.

"Alright... bye, then."

"Bye."

Sans stands there for a moment, and then turns and walks back in the direction of Snowdin. After he's gone a few steps... he disappears, having teleported away. You remain standing there for a few moments, and then sigh and turn back towards the ruin doors. You know that you can't be with him 24/7... but you're still disappointed to see him go.

You hesitate before you reach the ruin doors, allowing the peace of the surrounding forest to settle over you. It's always so quiet around here. When it snows (and yes, it does snow, even though you're Underground), you sometimes swear that you can hear the snowflakes as they fall. Then you sigh again, and go to open the ruin doors...

Suddenly, there's a slight popping sound from behind you, followed by the rapid crunching of footsteps through the snow. You spin around to look behind you, only to see a blur of white and blue. The next thing you know, a certain skeleton his teeth pressed firmly against your lips.

You're caught so off guard that you hardly register anything that's happening. Not the feeling of his teeth on your lips, not the fact that he has you pinned against the ruin doors, and not even the fact that his hips are flush against yours. In fact, you don't even have the common sense to close your eyes. When he eventually pulls away, blue faced and bashful, you're still staring at him, too shocked to say or do anything else.

He's immediately put-out by your expression, and is quick to back up a step.

"S-sorry, I should've asked first," he mutters, looking away. "I just—I didn't get to earlier, and... I couldn't resist—"

Before he can apologize any further, you grab a hold of his wrist and pull him back against you, silencing him by pressing your lips against his teeth again. Now that you know what's happening, you take the time to enjoy it. You close your eyes, and you shiver as you manage to draw a contented sigh from him. Just the idea of kissing him is more than enough to satisfy you—you don't even register how weird it feels to be kissing someone else's teeth.

Your heart is beating erratically in your chest, and when Sans presses harder against you—forcing you back against the ruin doors—you're pretty sure that it seized for a moment. You bite back a moan at the feeling of his hips against yours, but there's no stopping your cheeks from burning. By the time he pulls back again, you're pretty sure that you're about the same shade as a cherry. Sans' face looks like a blueberry, though, so you're in good company.

He stays pressed against you for a few more moments, his irises shifting back and forth as he studies your face. Then he draws back, and without so much as another word, disappears back to wherever he came from.

Left feeling hot and bothered, it takes you an additional few seconds to regain your senses. When you do, you slowly pry yourself off of the ruin doors and turn around, reaching out for the newly-installed handles. As you do, though, you think you catch sight of something... strange... in your peripheral vision. It looks like the silhouette of a young girl—it's jet black, and it shifts as if it's made of smoke. When you turn to get a better look at it, though... there's nothing there. You blink hard, and when it doesn't reappear, shrug the strange apparition off. You finish opening the ruin doors, and slip inside.

***

You sigh explosively as you collapse onto your bed, your heart still hammering from your previous encounter with Sans.

What a day... you think, reflecting on everything that'd happened. Was it really only this morning that you were playing the piano at Grillby's? So much happened to you today that it seems as if it'd happened ages ago...

You quickly slide under the covers, and then stare up at the ceiling, resting one hand on your forehead as you go over all of today's events in your mind. You'd met Mettaton, and then you'd gotten that weird phone call... you'd gone to Frisk's party, where you'd had a grill-off and did Karaoke with Sans... then you'd been handcuffed together, and eventually...

By the time you get to the point where Sans had confessed, you've already fallen asleep.