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.

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174. Beneath the Surface

Deacon isn’t sure what he was expecting when he demanded to know why Sans thought you were in danger. Maybe some kind of monster sixth (seventh? does sensing Souls count as the sixth?) sense since the two of you had gotten Soul-married. But no, he sure as hell wasn’t expecting ‘my seven-year-old can alter time on a massive, unbelievable scale’ to be the answer. Stacked on top of that is the fact that their current power is lessthan what it used to be, now they’re no longer possessed by Toriel and Asgore’s old adopted kid that died. (And Asriel died and then got turned into a vicious flower that almost killed you.)

And Asgore 

Now Deacon understands the full scope of what you meant that night when you stood up for him, when you said that the monsters were keeping secrets. Six dead kids… he’s not sure how to absorb that information. He’s not really sure how to absorb any of this, but he has to try. But now he gets the strained relationship between the king and queen, why Sans acts standoffish around Asgore. Between those six kids and the fact that he’d…

Shit , Asgore had killed you. How could you be friends with these people that had tried to kill you, and one that actually did ? Even if you didn’t remember that last one, Sans and Frisk did.

The look on Sans’s face when he told him about that part; what happened the night that the Barrier fell. He can tell that it still haunts him. Having to see you die, Deacon can’t even imagine what that must have been like. He doesn’t want to imagine it. Shaking his head, he pushes the thought away.

Deacon wishes he could talk to you. You have that true outsider’s perspective on all of this stuff, and you’d lived it. For now he just has to trust in your judgement, in the fact that these people are your friends. That you send Frisk to spend weekends with Toriel and Asriel, and that he knows Frisk has a good relationship with Asgore.

Despite six dead kids on his conscience.

One thing is for certain though, about all of this. The Vigilum would kill to get their hands on a kid with Frisk’s raw power, and the thought scares the crap out of him. Now it’s his duty to help you and Sans keep Frisk safe from anyone that might try to abuse that magic. Now that he knows, how could he not ? He cares about them, about your whole family, and as long as he can help, he will.

Because if you’re like a sister to him, then that makes Frisk his… uh. His nonbinary equivalent of a niece or nephew. Shit, he should look that up. Maybe Papyrus knows, he’s their actual uncle. Whatever. It makes Frisk family .

First thing’s first, though. He and Sans (and the Literatum) need to bring you and Frisk home, where you belong. And to do that, they get to do some serious covert-ops bullshit that he’s pretty sure he’s not trained for. None of them are. And the last time the Literatum tried to do anything like this against the Vigilum they ended up with two dead people and, well, almost complete failure. He’s sure Vanessa appreciates what they did, but it had gone badly enough to swear Morwenna and Grant off of doing pretty much anything ever again.

And now they’re suddenly responsible for rescuing the governor and his family, so that he can undo all the changes he did in regards to Ebott. It’s intimidating, and frankly more than a little scary. But they’re doing something. Finally doing something with all this power and knowledge that they have instead of just sitting around twiddling their thumbs. Grant may insist that heroes don’t exist, that good and evil are just words in books (books that are just a waste of time, that don’t matter), but you know what? Now he has the chance to do some damn good for the people that matter to him. To the community that had taken him in and accepted him and given him more than the Literatum ever did.

Maybe, for them (for you), he can be a hero.

He just better not be a tragic one, because he’s got a beautiful girlfriend who needs him to come back safely.

Said beautiful girlfriend is currently running her fingers through his hair, letting him use her lap as a pillow as they watch (or in his case, don’twatch) TV. If he wasn’t so distracted by everything right now he’d probably be nodding off. He’s comfortable, the feel of her nails against his scalp is soothing, and there’s a certain security in just being here with her in her apartment.

Deacon has been spending the majority of his time here instead of at home, and she doesn’t seem to mind. Right now he still can’t work, the hotel is just a couple blocks away from her apartment, and it’s just… less lonely, even when she’s gone. This place is full of her things, her personality, her life. It doesn’t feel quite so empty.

It’s strange, how easy it is for him to feel lonely now. It never used to bother him before. Well, it’s hard to know what you’re missing when you’ve never had it before.

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” Bo says, tilting her head so she can look down at him.

Of course he has. Everything that’s on his mind is something he can’t talk to her about. You and Frisk and time travel, the fact that tomorrow night he’s going to be putting his life on the line for her freedom… He can’t tell her any of it. The first part because he promised Sans that he wouldn’t, and he can’t break that. The second because he won’t let her get involved. If things go badly, if he’s caught, or killed, and the plan fails, he can’t let it get back to her. If he can spare her any sort of punishment for his behavior, he’ll do it. Even if it means lying to her; if it means sneaking off somehow in the middle of the night to do it.

“I’m just basking in the pre-coital glow,” he says, rolling onto his back, shifting to get himself comfortable. Catching her eye, he smiles.

Bo arches a brow, a grin pulling at her lips. “Isn’t the phrase ‘post-coital glow’?”

“I’m just being preemptive,” he says.

“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘premature’,” she counters, eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Hopefully not. That would be disappointing,” he says, which earns him a soft laugh. “No, I’m just lying here, thinking about what I’d like to do with you. It’s very satisfying.”

She pushes his bangs back off his forehead, then traces the side of his face with her fingertips. When she catches the side of his neck he can’t help but shiver. “Oh? And what are you thinking about exactly?”

Well, he should have seen that coming. Uh, shit. Instead of grasping for ideas he just gives her a wolfish (will he ever be able to take that word seriously again?) smirk. “I think I’d rather show you,” he murmurs, and even though he hadn’t been thinking about it a moment ago, the way her mouth curves into a rather pleased smile gets his mind turning in the right direction. It doesn’t take his body long to follow. “If you’ll let me.”

“Oh, are there going to be diagrams? Should I take notes?” she teases, and he can’t help but laugh.

“We talked about this, Bo,” he says, sitting up and turning to face her. They never break eye contact, watching each other as he leans in close. “About the teacher thing.”

“Baby, I didn’t mean it like that,” she says, giggling as he bypasses her mouth to start pressing kisses against her throat. She tips her head back, letting out a soft, pleased sound and she reaches up to bury her fingers in his hair. Oh, that feels good. “Though now that you mention it…”

Deacon doesn’t give her the chance to continue that thought, instead moving in for a proper kiss. Her grip on his hair tightens, and he lets out a quiet groan into her mouth. The satisfied hum she makes in response is encouragement enough to slip a hand under her shirt, hooking around her side and pulling her up against his chest. “Maybe I’ve always had a secret waitress fantasy,” he says, tracing his thumb along the curve of her waist. “If we’re talking about roleplaying.”

“I think you just like it when people feed you,” she retorts, and he barks out a laugh against his will.

“You’ve got me all figured out,” he murmurs, pressing lingering kisses slowly along the line of her jaw. “I’m just here for the good food. And right now, I could really go for some mutton.”

Bo dissolves into a fit of giggles so overwhelming that he can’t help but laugh too. He has to admit, it’s hard to take that line seriously. Once he manages to stifle his laughter, he tugs the loose collar of her shirt to the side and nips at her shoulder for emphasis. It just makes her laugh harder, trying to squirm away. “No, oh my god, you’re so awful!” she manages to exclaim as she tries to catch her breath.

“This is payback for pretending you were cooking lamb that one time,” he grumbles against her skin. He slips his hand higher up her back, groping for her bra while she’s distracted.

If she catches onto him she doesn’t say anything, instead thrusting her own hand beneath his shirt in exchange. He arches his back at her touch, shivering as she traces the muscles in his back. It makes him fumble with the hooks of her bra for a second before he manages to pinch them open.

This is better than worrying about things outside of his control, beyond his realm of understanding. Being here with her, laughing, being happywhile he still has the chance— No don’t think like that... There’s still plenty of chances. There’s still a future with her, here in Ebott, especially now that his secret is out. He doesn’t have to leave, he’s not going to be sent away, and he sure as hell isn’t going to let anything happen to him tomorrow night.

Not if he can help it. At least, he hopes that he can help it. Because it would be some kind of cruel irony to have gone through so much to keep what he’s found, only to be snatched away from it when he’s trying to protect it. It would be poetic in the shittiest way possible. But that would be just his luck, wouldn’t it?

“If you’re going to unhook my bra, the least you could do is take my shirt off,” Bo says, reminding him that he’s in the middle of something important. “This is just awkward.”

He pulls back, looking down at the the lump of her freed bra underneath her shirt. Yeah, that’s a little weird. “Sorry, let me fix that,” he says, giving her a mischievous smile as he takes hold of the hem of her shirt and pulls it up over her head with her help. She slides her bra off her arms on her own, tossing it over the arm of the sofa.  

For a moment he just looks at her. The curve of her mouth as she gives him that coy smile, the way she shifts her arms in just the right way to press her breasts together as she knows he’s watching. But that tiny voice in the back of his mind tells him this might be the last time he gets to see her like this. That it might be the last time they’re together. He tries to squash it down, to ignore it, but that surge of fear rises up in the back of his throat and threatens to choke him.

“Deacon?” Bo says, and that concerned tone in her voice tells him he wasn’t able to keep those feelings off his face. He betrayed his own thoughts before he could catch them and lock them away. He’s getting worse about that, especially with Bo. It’s so easy to let his guard down now, to let her in. But he can’t let her see this. He can’t tell her that he’s afraid he’s going to leave Ebott and might never come back.

But he forces a smile, shaking his head. “You’re still just as stunning as ever,” he says.

There’s a moment where she hesitates, like she’s not sure if she should believe him. But whether she decides to or makes the conscious decision to let it go, she cups his cheek and leans in to kiss him.

He’s lying to her, keeping the plan a secret to protect her.

It’s not because he’s afraid to admit out loud that this might get him killed.

 
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