Would That Make You Happy?

Frisk is your child, the result of a teen pregnancy, but they've always been told that you're their older sister. In an effort to get away from your own abusive mother, the two of you end up falling into the Underground, where Sans is startled by this abrupt change in what had become a predictable pattern of events. Maybe your presence is what is needed to stop the endless cycle of Resets.

After many struggles, both internal and external, you and your found family reach the surface, only to face even more difficulties from the society you weren't sure you'd ever see again. You meet new friends and encounter people from your past, though for good or ill, you're not sure. Sometimes it's difficult to tell kindness from cunning.


17. Alone Together

You wake with a pair of tiny feet lodged into the small of your back. Frisk is twisted up in an unnatural position between you and the back of the couch, cocooned in their blanket and sound asleep. You're lucky that they're not a kicker, or you would have found yourself on the floor. Mouth hanging open, they give a small, sleepy snort and duck their chin under the edge of the blanket.

There's a light on in the kitchen, so you decide to get up. A quick check on your phone tells you it's just a little after 8 AM. With some difficulty, you untangle yourself from your blanket and find your feet. The (frankly ugly) blue and purple zigzag carpet is now familiar under your bare feet, the flattened piling old and worn down.

Rubbing your face and yawning, you stumble blearily into the kitchen. The only light is from the stove's hood lamp, dim but enough to see by without disturbing the living room. That was considerate of... oh, Papyrus is there, perking up at the sight of you. He's sitting at the kitchen table, slurping up a bite of spaghetti from his stockpile in the fridge. Judging by the way the sauce is thick and congealed, you think he's eating it cold. You struggle to suppress a shudder.

"GOOD MORNING, HUMAN," he says, far too cheerful for your still-groggy state. He's speaking a bit quieter than usual, but still a bit loud for your tastes. Not loud enough to disturb Frisk, but enough to invoke that sense of presence he has.

You mumble a greeting and dig through the cabinet to produce some instant coffee. Honestly, it's disgusting, but with no way to get the brothers a coffee pot or a French press, you were at a loss for a way to get your morning dose of caffeine. Somehow the shop bunny had produced a container of instant coffee, and you settled for that. The expiration date was rubbed off at some point before it made it to Snowdin's shop. You try not to think about it as you spoon some into a mug, followed by a healthy serving of sugar.

Looking at the container of sugar, you can't help but smile. It reminds you of Sans, and the first time he kissed you.

You fill up the kettle from the sink and set it on the stove, turning the knob for the wrong burner at first, then quickly correcting yourself. With another rub at your sleep-crusted eyes, you turn to face Papyrus and lean your back against the counter. He's turned in his chair, facing you and ignoring his spaghetti. You're a little unsettled to see that he's watching you with a small frown on his face.


Before you have a chance to say anything, Papyrus is rising to his feet. He's a good head taller than you, and as he closes the distance you can't help but feel a little trapped. You're a lot more awake now, and frankly a little nervous.

"SANS IS MY ONLY FAMILY, MY BROTHER. I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, TAKE CARE OF HIM, AND TRY TO KEEP HIM HAPPY. AND NOW, YOU ARE HELPING HIM BE HAPPY. TRULY, YOU ARE A WONDERFUL FRIEND, AND SOMEONE SPECIAL TO SANS, WHICH MAKES YOU EVEN MORE SPECIAL TO ME." Papyrus has your gaze held and locked in his, and you feel like breaking eye contact would be a serious offense. His words are kind and part of you is touched at the sentiment, but his tone is still serious. He's not smiling.

"I really appreciate that, Papyrus," you mumble.

"WITH THAT IN MIND." Papyrus's eyes narrow, and there's a flicker of orange within his right eye. You feel a tingle of magic in the air around him. "I HOPE THAT YOU CONTINUE TO MAKE HIM HAPPY. BECAUSE IF YOU HURT MY BROTHER..." The orange ring flares brighter and sharper, and you cringe back against the counter. The trailing end of his red scarf gives an intimidating ripple. "I WILL BE VERY DISAPPOINTED IN YOU."

There was a time when you never understood why your friends in school got so upset when their parents said thinks like 'I'm not mad, I'm just disappointed'. Now you get it. It hits you like a ton of bricks.

All at once the magic is gone, and Papyrus's eyes are both dark. As you try to regain your bearings, the kettle starts to give off the beginnings of a low, quiet whistle. Papyrus turns away from you to sit back at the table, and you hurry to pull the kettle off the stove before it gets louder. Trembling slightly, you pour boiling water into your mug and start stirring. What the hell was that? You've never seen Papyrus that intimidating, not even when he was facing down Undyne.

Oh, but Undyne wasn't threatening Sans, now was she?

Finding your voice again, you pick up your mug and (with great courage, you think) take a seat next to Papyrus at the table. "I... I hope you believe me, when I say that I want Sans to be happy, too," you say, staring at your coffee as you stir some more.

"OH, I DO!" Papyrus says, his voice cheerful once again. You feel like you've suffered verbal whiplash at the sudden change of tone. Like Papyrus hadn't just made you nearly wet yourself. "I BELIEVE IN YOU! I'M CERTAIN THAT THE TWO OF YOU WILL BE INSUFFERABLE TOGETHER, WITH YOUR PUNNERISMS." You look up in time to see him pull a disgusted face, then slurp up another forkfull of spaghetti. "BUT IF THAT'S WHAT IT TAKES TO SEE MY BROTHER HAPPY AGAIN, THEN I SUPPOSE I WILL JUST HAVE TO ENDURE IT."

You sip at the hot coffee, almost scalding your tongue. It still needs to sit a little longer. Brimming with nervous energy, you roll the mug slowly between your hands, the heat warming your palms. "Well, I hope I don't let you down."

Papyrus claps a hand on your shoulder, making you jump and nearly spill your coffee. He's beaming at you, filled with confidence. "OF COURSE YOU WON'T!" He releases you, scooping up his dishes and leaving the table to put them in the sink. "I HOPE THE TWO OF YOU HAVE A GOOD DAY. AT HOME. ALONE TOGETHER," he says, giving you an exaggerated wink. He even says 'wink' in a high-pitched voice as he does it.

You're certain you're blushing. Your face feels hotter than the mug between your hands.

Papyrus nudges you in the shoulder, cackling on his way out of the kitchen. "FRISK! COME, WAKE UP! YOU AND I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, HAVE A FUN, ADVENTURE-FILLED DAY AHEAD OF US!"

You try to sip your coffee again. It's burning.

You're sipping at your coffee on the couch, your legs tucked under you. The house is quiet with Papyrus and Frisk gone. It feels a little strange, sitting there alone while you wait for Sans to wake up. You're thumbing through a book you have saved on your phone, killing time. You wonder if the Underground has ebooks. Maybe you'll find out one of these days.

Going to take another sip of your drink, you realize it's gone cold which does nothing for the already-disgusting taste. Scowling at the mug, you flick your phone's screen into darkness and drop it onto the couch beside you. You unfold yourself and walk into the kitchen.

You rinse out the mug, then pull Papyrus's plate out of the sink and scrape soggy noodles into the garbage. You return the dishes to the sink. After a short mental debate, you decide to leave washing them for later. There's a small niggling in the back of your mind, but it's minor enough to just ignore. You're making progress.

As you turn away from the sink and dry your hands on a dishtowel sitting on the counter, you spot Sans watching you from the entryway. He meets your eyes for a second, just long enough so that you know that he knows you're watching. Then, with exaggerated slowness, his gaze rakes down your body. You can practically feel it, like fingers dragging down your skin.

Flushing, you realize how you must look. You've been wearing the clothes you borrowed on the first day as pajamas, and you hadn't bothered to change yet. That oversized black t-shirt with the goofy ribcage on it, Sans's shorts, bare feet, and you can only guess at the state of your hair. Your fingers are still damp as you try to comb them through your hair, and the moisture causes them to snag. Cursing, you tug your hand out. Real smooth.

Distracted by your hair, it takes you a second to realize that Sans is right in front of you. Grinning, with a hunger in his eyes, he raises up on his toes and brushes the toothy equivalent of a kiss to your jaw. "maybe this is a dumb question, considering the peace and quiet, but they're gone, right?"

"Um, yeah," you manage to say, caught off-balance by that look he's giving you.

"good," he says, voice canted low, almost low enough to be considered a growl. You can feel his voice under your skin. "because seeing you in my shorts is enough to drive me crazy, and i want to get you out of them."

Oh. His words, the wanting look in his eyes, his voice... it's all enough to kindle heat low in your belly. It seems that Sans doesn't want to waste any of the time the two of you managed to get alone.

The moment you lean forward to press your mouth to his, his hands are on you. Like he was waiting for your silent permission. Fingers slide up your back, hesitating for a second where your bra would normally be. You didn't wear it to bed. He continues up between your shoulder blades, feeling the curve of bone under your skin before dragging back down along your spine. You shiver under his touch.

"Use your magic," you breathe against his jaw, tracing the edge of the bone with the tip of your tongue. "Kiss me."

There's a hint of blue as your eyes open for just a moment, then Sans frees a hand from under your shirt to cup the back of your neck. Your fingers skate along the contours of his ribs through his shirt as he gently teases your bottom lip with his teeth. Your lips part as you groan in response, the familiar warmth of his conjured tongue sliding against yours.

Sans shudders against you as your hand works around his side and down his spine. Your fingers trail lightly over all the curves and divots, the bones warm under your touch. As you trail across the curve of his pelvis, he breaks away from the kiss and presses his forehead to your shoulder, biting back a gasp.

"shit," he breathes, his hand finding the soft swell of the underside of your breast. You tremble with anticipation, waiting for him to move that hand higher. "you have no idea how bad i want you."

The hand that was on the back of your neck moves to take hold of the loose collar of your borrowed t-shirt. Tugging it to the side, you feel his tongue sweep down your neck and to the exposed part of your shoulder. Then, the hard edge of his teeth grazes your skin, before he slowly, carefully, bites down. It's enough to make you moan, the tiniest hint of pain only sending a thrill through your body. Your moan turns into a breathy gasp as the hand on your breast slides up to tease over your nipple, squeezing at the soft weight.

"Sans," you whine, arching into his touch as your fingers twist into his shirt.

"tell me what you want," he says, releasing the collar of your shirt as he looks up at you with one burning eye. You can see the hint of his blue tongue still behind his teeth as he talks. His free hand reaches down to take hold of your hip, and you roll your hips forward against him. Sweat beads on the side of his skull.

"You, Sans. Please, take me upstairs," you plead, a small part of you surprised at the lust in your voice. You can't remember ever sounding like that before.

There's a familiar lurch in the pit of your stomach and you find yourself in Sans's room. He holds you steady as you wobble a bit, regaining your bearings. His hands fall away from you, looking a little sheepish. "sorry, i guess we could have used the stairs."

"It's fine," you say, stroking a thumb across the blue stain on his cheekbone. "Now, I think you said something about wanting to get me out of these clothes?"

Taking a step back to look over you again, his grin widens. "the day we met, i knew i was in trouble. seeing you in my clothes... lets just say, you gave me a bone-er."

You shouldn't be surprised at the pun, but it catches you off guard. You give an unattractive snort of laughter, dissolving into giggles. "I can't believe you just said that."

"yeah you can," he murmurs, moving close again. You take a step back, and feel the edge of the bed against the backs of your knees. "i love hearing you laugh."

Sans hooks his fingers on the elastic waist of your shorts, raising a brow at you. "have i charmed the pants off you yet?"

"Am I going to have to take my clothes off myself?" you ask, teasing.

Sans chuckles. "don't you dare. i've been dying to address this issue myself."

Rolling your eyes at him, you move your hands to take hold of your waistband, but he catches hold of your wrists. "don't. please," he says, the gentleness of his voice making you stop.

With careful deliberation, Sans tugs down your shorts, letting them fall into a pool of fabric at your feet. Then, he takes hold of the hem of your shirt, and you let him pull it over your head. It finds a new home on the floor near the treadmill. You stand there in only your underwear, fighting the sudden urge to cross your arms as Sans just looks at you. Self-consciousness nags at you as you think about the stretch marks on your stomach and thighs, the scar under your panty line. But Sans has this tenderness in his expression that quiets the voices in the back of your head.

He seems afraid to touch you. "can i... will you really let me..." Sans raises a hand, but seems unsure.

You reach out and take his hand, guiding it to the curve of your waist. "Yes, please."

He takes hold of your hips and guides you back onto the bed. Following you, there's a moment where you want to remark on the fact that he's significantly more dressed than you are, but then his hands are tracing over you and the thought flits away. You watch him study you, memorizing the way the hard bones of his fingers press at soft flesh. He drags up your thigh, lingers at the curve of your backside, follows the swell of your hip. You can't help but squirm under his touch, aching for more specific attention as he grazes over the peaks of your breasts. Hands trail down over the softness of your stomach, tips of his phalanges tracing the marks in your skin.

Before you can even dwell on the stretch marks or let the self-consciousness come back, Sans's hands move to your hips. He squeezes, thumbs pressing against the ridges of bone as his fingers curl around the flesh of your sides. You arch your back, biting back a groan.

"Sans," you whine, looking up at him with lidded eyes.

"show me what to do. what do i do to make you come for me?" He pulls off your last scrap of clothing as he speaks to you, his voice humming against your skin.

Guiding his hand down between your thighs, you draw in a shuddering breath as the warm, smooth bones of his fingers press against your folds. Fumbling for a moment, he carefully pushes past your outer lips and traces the outside of your entrance. Moaning, you arch under his touch, and as your hand falls away from his he slowly pushes inside.

"everything about you is so soft," he murmurs, leaning over you to nuzzle his forehead against your cheek. You turn your head to trail lazy, distracted kisses along his skull as his fingers curl inside you. He tries a few different motions, adjusted angles, until your back arches as you moan. Sans makes a pleased sound, and you feel yourself trembling, grabbing at his shoulders because you need something, anything, to do with your hands. "you feel so good, so wet. how are you so amazing?"

Gasping, you can feel the tension start to build, low in your belly, but just his fingers isn't enough. You reach down and as you touch his hand his motion slows, tilting his head to look up at you. "I need..." You bite your lip, having trouble finding the words.

"tell me what you need," he urges, moving inside you with slow, steady strokes of his fingers.

You guide his thumb over your clit, showing him a small circular motion. Muscles in your legs twitch at the overstimulation, and after a few strokes, you realize that the hard surface of his fingers is too much for you. With a frustrated sound, you pull his thumb away. "Damn it, I can't... I'm used to something softer," you admit in a small voice.

"it's fine, babe, don't worry," Sans says, brushing his mouth against your cheek before removing his fingers and sitting back on his heels. He shifts himself to settle between your knees, pulling off his shorts as he moves. "i know a few ways to make your trip to the bone zone, magical."

"Did you seriously just say bone zo—ohhh!"

There's more blue as the ring in his left eye pulses brighter for a moment, and you feel something warm press inside you, filling you better than his fingers ever could. It takes you a moment to realize that Sans is trembling, letting out a shaky breath. "shit," he breathes, running a hand down your thigh. Pulling back (you can tell now that he's made himself a cock with his magic, which shouldn't surprise you after that trick with his tongue) he gives another slow stroke deep into your core. "fuck, you feel so good."

You curl one leg around his, urging him deeper. Sans takes hold of your knee with one hand to steady himself as he reaches down with his other hand.  Instead of the hard bone you expect to feel, his fingers are soft against your clit. Curiosity getting the better of you, despite how damn good it feels, you see he's using his magic to form a cushion over the phalanges. 

Sans catches your eye as you let your head fall back to the mattress, winking at you with his dark eye. He sticks his tongue out at you. "i can make anything you want, babe," he growls, a wicked grin on his face.

"Right now I don't care," you groan, arching into his hand. "What you're doing now is perfect."

Tension is coiling, hot and heavy in your belly as Sans thrusts and rubs as you instructed. Moaning and crying out, your hands scrabble under his shirt and hook into his ribs, eliciting a hoarse sound from the skeleton. His cheekbones are stained blue and he's watching you, eyes raking over your face as he devours every change in your expression.

"so beautiful," he says, and in that moment you believe him. His fingers are digging almost painfully into your leg as he holds himself up, but something about it arouses you even more. "come on, babe. come for me."

You're so close, and his urging nearly pushes you over the edge. Squeezing your eyes shut, a whimper falls from your lips. With a wide stroke of Sans's thumb and a well-timed thrust accompanying it, your back arches, a ragged moan spills out of you, and the tension in your belly fractures. Waves of pleasure rock through your body, made only sweeter as Sans guides you through your orgasm with slow circles of his finger. The clenching of your inner walls make him moan, bowing forward over you as he continues his steady pace.

Soon the feel of his thumb against you is too much as your peak starts to fade away. You reach down and take hold of his hand, pulling it up towards your shoulder. "Please, Sans, I need you closer," you tell him, voice breathy from pleasure. "Come here."

"heh, was that a pun just now?" he asks, his voice stuttering as he leans forward over you, holding your hand tight in his as he presses his forehead to your collarbone.

You don't even have time to answer him before he thrusts one last time and goes still above you. He moans your name and rocks forward, deeper, to draw out one last moan from you before shifting to collapse at your side. You tangle your legs up in his as he gathers you in his arms, pressing his head to your chest.

"i... that was incredible," he murmurs, and you can only nod in agreement.

You're not sure you can move yet, your muscles in your legs are tingling and your arms feel heavy.

"i just want to stay like this forever," he says, quietly like he's afraid the universe will hear him and intervene. Maybe he is. "i can't believe you're here with me, like this."

"I'm here, Sans. I'm not going anywhere," you promise, running a hand along his back.

Sans doesn't say anything. Instead he holds you closer, and you think he's listening to your heartbeat.

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