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.


134. Christmas

"Mom! Dad! Santa came!"

You're woken by Frisk's excited shout, followed shortly after by a small body jumping into your bed. Hands are shoving your shoulder, trying to push you out of bed, and you give a bleary look in the direction of your bedside clock. Five thirty-six AM. Not that you expect any less from a six year old on Christmas morning.


Papyrus flips on the overhead light and you and Sans let out a chorus of disgruntled groans, shielding your eyes. You feel Frisk's hands leave your back and hear the soft rattle of bones as they turn to shake Sans instead. Rubbing your face and pushing your hair out of the way, you sit up and glance over at your fiancé as he tries to pull the covers over his head. You can hear him chuckling.

"Dad!" Frisk whines, and you still love the sound of that. That this year, on Christmas, Frisk has a father who loves them. They pull on the comforter and try to yank it down. "Dad c'mon!"

Wrapping your arms around Frisk's middle, you pull them away from Sans and into your lap, planting a series of loud, obnoxious kisses on their cheek. With a squeal of protest, they wriggle away and fall off the bed, giggling as they scurry over to Papyrus. He scoops them up. Even though six is a bit old to be getting carried around, the tall skeleton just has a habit of doing it anyway.

"We'll be right down," you tell him, glancing over at the lump that is Sans next to you. "Why don't you get some Christmas music playing for when we open presents?"

"I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, CAN ACCOMPLISH THIS TASK!" he says, beaming as he hurries out of the room with Frisk in tow.

Rubbing your eyes, you adjust the collar of your nightgown before shoving what you guess is Sans's shoulder. He grunts at you. "Hey," you say.

After a second you see a set of bony fingers curl over the edge of the blanket and pull it down, just enough for you to see a single eye socket looking at you. His pupil is big and bright, but a little fuzzy around the edges. "hm?"

Leaning down, you plant a kiss on his exposed brow. "It's our first Christmas together."

He makes a contented sound. "yep."

"And in a week, we'll be getting married," you say, easing back the comforter away from his face. He doesn't resist.

A warm, bony hand brushes along your jaw, cupping the back of your head. He pulls you down so he can kiss you, nuzzle against your cheek. "yep."

The faint sound of Christmas music drifts up to your bedroom, and you can hear Papyrus's muffled voice. "I love you."

Arms circle your chest and pull you down to him as he hugs you tightly. He buries his face in your neck, in your hair, and for a moment he's silent, tensed beneath you. "i love you too, babe," he says at last, and if his voice is rough from sleep or something else, you're not sure. Though, if you had to guess you'd bet on the latter. "i love you so damn much."

You'd put up the Christmas tree the day after Kim's visit. It was like banishing a haunting presence; willing the foulness out of your house with an abundance of holiday cheer. Set up in a corner of the living room in front of some of the bookshelves, you and Sans stayed up extra late to put out presents after Frisk and Papyrus went to bed, though there's quite a few under the tree you don't remember wrapping. When you catch Sans's eye after looking them over, all he does is grin and shrug.

They're all labeled for you.

You never had many gifts at Christmas. Any extra money you had around the holidays went towards buying gifts for Frisk, and, well, your mother had made it clear who she favored. And surprise, it wasn't you. Not that you minded. It was more important for you to see Frisk have a good Christmas.

Sans had apparently decided that he was going to change that, starting this year. As Frisk takes turns passing out gifts one at a time, instead of you having to sit and watch while the others open presents, you have just as many as the rest of them. By the fourth gift you have tears in your eyes and Sans wraps his arm around your shoulders.

"merry christmas," he murmurs to you, and you can't stop smiling as you wipe your eyes. "and this is just the stuff from me and pap."

"You didn't have to do all this," you whisper, resting your head against his.

"sure i did."

Frisk is too busy looking through all their new toys and games to notice you sniffling, but Papyrus catches your eye. Grinning, he lets out a small, pleased 'nyeh!' before returning his attention to his own pile of presents. Some new robot action figures, a few cookbooks from you, and a variety of clothing in garish colors (from Sans, probably to offend Mettaton's sense of fashion, you can only assume).

You think that gifts are over, as Papyrus gets up to go to the kitchen and start breakfast and Frisk starts carting their spoils upstairs. But Sans goes over to the tree and fishes something out from between the branches, something that no one else noticed was there. It's a small box wrapped in blue paper with a matching blue bow stuck to the top. He hands it to you.

Arching a brow, you hold it in your hands as you watch the affectionate look on his face. "So why couldn't I open this one in front of Papyrus and Frisk?" you ask quietly as he sits on the couch next to you.

"thought you might want a minute," he says, which doesn't tell you much of anything.

Curious, you tear off the paper to reveal the flat, square box beneath. You glance at Sans and then back at the gift before pulling off the lid. Inside is an oval locket, white gold and about the size of an old half-dollar coin. Designed like a sunburst, in the center is a raised infinity symbol. You set the box aside, pulling the locket out and letting the thick, sturdy chain slip through your fingers.

"It's beautiful," you say, running your thumb over the smooth ridges of the sunburst.

"i know you don't wear a lot of jewelry, but i thought you might make an exception for this," Sans says, watching your expression. "technically i'm giving it to you a little early, but i didn't wanna wait. open it."

Using your thumbnail, you hear a soft popping sound as you do as Sans tells you. Inside, on the right side, is a picture of you, Sans, and Frisk. Instead of a formal portrait like one of the ones you have hanging up in the stairwell, this one is full of energy and huge smiles. You and Sans are sitting together with Frisk on your laps, tucked right in the middle. You remember this. This was from your birthday party out at the lake. You can see the water and the trees behind you, and the loose, plunging shirt you wore over your bathing suit. Sans took this selfie on his phone.

Smiling, you touch the glass keeping the picture protected, then turn your attention to the left side of the locket. Engraved there is a date: the date of your wedding next week. Beneath it reads, 'Love for all time.'

"Sans, you keep making me cry," you blurt out, laughing weakly as you rub your eyes.

He takes the locket from you and slips the chain over your head, carefully pulling your hair out from under it and letting the weight of the pendant settle right over your heart. Nuzzling your temple, he covers the necklace with his hand, pressing gently over your sternum. "now you've got us right here whenever you need us."

Later, after breakfast has been eaten and you get dressed for your big family Christmas with Toriel and the others, there's a knock on the door. For a brief but nerve-wracking moment you think maybe somehow Kim is there to ruin yet another holiday, but instead you find Deacon. He's standing there on the porch in a festive, green sweater vest and coordinating button-up shirt, a stack of presents in his arms. Grinning, he hands them to you and steps inside.

"Merry Christmas! How long have you been up?" he asks, throwing his arm around your shoulders and giving you a sideways hug.

"Five thirty, how did you know?" you answer, elbowing him in the ribs and leading him into the living room.

"You have a six-year-old, is there any other alternatives for Christmas morning?" Deacon spots Frisk playing a game on the TV and grabs one of the gifts from the middle of the stack in your arms. The wrapping is... serviceable you guess. Not terribly done but not all that pretty either. "Hey Frisk, think fast," he says, tossing the present towards them.

They drop their controller to catch it. "Oh, thanks Mr. Stuart!"

"Don't mention it," he says with a wave of his hand. "Merry Christmas."

"You didn't have to do this," you say to him softly, smiling as you catch his eye.

Deacon shrugs. "I've never exactly had people to buy presents for before," he says with a crooked smile. "They're not much, but I wanted to do something."

Setting down the remaining gifts on the coffee table, you shift around some presents still under the tree; the ones for your friends. Finding the two small packages you're looking for, you hand them to Deacon as Sans comes into the room.

"thought i heard the door. merry christmas," Sans says. He comes up alongside you and glances down at the table. "stuff for us?"

"Merry Christmas, and yeah. Frisk already got theirs," Deacon says, starting to open what you just handed him. "Oh sweet! Hope, this lanyard is great. I'll be the coolest teacher at school." He pulls the on the black lanyard, patterned with gold elven script from Lord of the Rings.

"Aren't you already the coolest teacher at school?" you tease, nudging his arm.

"Well yeah but even more so now." He winks at you.

Sans is opening his gift from Deacon: a short stack of three books. "oh, i thought you were just gonna let me borrow these from you?" he says, sounding pleased.

Deacon shrugs. "Yeah, but now you have your own copies."

You nudge your friend's shoulder as you reach to grab your own present off the table. It feels like more books. "Open the other one. I mean, I'm not sure if it's really your thing, but—"

The sound of tearing paper interrupts you, and Deacon looks down at the picture frame in his hands. It's his own copy of the photo of the two of you from Thanksgiving, matted and framed and ready to go wherever he decides to put it. For a second you're not sure he likes it. He doesn't exactly have pictures around the house, so you don't know what to expect from his reaction. A moment passes and he looks up at you and smiles.

"This is great, this is..." He trails off and wraps you up in a big hug. Clearing his throat and sniffing, Deacon takes a second before letting you go. You think his eyes might be a little shiny. "I mean, it's no friendship bracelet, but I guess it'll have to do."

"Shut up," you tell him, laughing. "I'm glad you like it."

"Um, would it be weird if I copied you guys and hung it up in my stairwell?" he asks quietly, bowing his head and glancing over at Sans as he carries Papyrus's gift into the kitchen.

"If that's what you want to do, I think it would be perfect." You give him an affectionate smile. "Hey, when are you supposed to go over to Bo's? You're still doing Christmas with her family, right?"

"Yeah, and uh," he gives a cursory glance around the room, looking for a clock you think. "Soon. Like, I should probably head out in the next couple minutes. Do you know anything about her family? Has she ever mentioned them to you?"

You blink. "No, not really. Did she not tell you anything?"

"I mean, she said there's a lot of them. And that they're friendly, but isn't that what people say about their families? Uh, present company excluded. But seriously, it's always, 'Oh they'll love you!' and then it all falls apart and there's holiday hijinks and hilarious-but-well-intentioned misunderstandings."

"Deacon, you're rambling," you say, taking hold of his shoulders and making him look you in the eye. "And it sounds like you've watched way too many movies. You'll be fine. Bo adores you and I'm sure her family will too."

"Okay but, imagine this, what if they don't?" he presses, swallowing. "She's got to be close with them, so what does it mean if they don't like me? What if they don't want a human dating their daughter?"

"you're worrying too much," Sans says, chuckling and arching a brow as he returns to the living room. "i'm sure they'll eat you right up."

"Are you sure? Have you met them?" Deacon asks, turning towards your fiancé with more than a little desperation.

"yeah, they swung by the hotel a few times when we worked together. they're nice folks." He shrugs his shoulders and rocks forward onto his toes. "and i think you're expecting them to act like humans. we're a bit more accepting of this kinda stuff."

"Sans is right," you add, giving Deacon a warm smile. "You'll be fine."

"Baby, are you okay?"

Deacon glances over at Bo where she's sitting in the passenger seat, looking at him with concern in those big blue eyes. She's wearing an adorably tacky Christmas sweater that just so happens to coordinate with his vest, and there's a sprig of holly tucked into her woolen hair, right above her ear. He forces himself to relax his grip on the steering wheel, reaching over for her hand.

"I'm fine," he tells her (and himself). "Totally fine."

"I promise, you've got no reason to worry," she says for the third time so far (he's counted). Honestly the fact that she keeps repeating herself just makes him worry more. "If I like you, they'll like you— oh, it's that house right there. Yes, the white one with the red door."

There's only one other car parked in front of the house, a big van. He's seen a lot of vans recently, now that more monsters have been getting permits to drive with the Line opening. Pulling Sylvie up behind it, he throws her into park and gets out, circling the car to open Bo's door. She waits, letting him help her out, which he thinks is adorable. She's just... everything about her is adorable. He takes hold of her waist and gives her a soft, tender kiss before letting her go, savoring the pleased sound low in her throat.

"Keep that up and I might let you take me home after," she teases, letting out a silky laugh. She follows him around to the trunk as he opens it, and inside there's a big bag of presents.

"Are you sure I didn't need to get your parents anything?" Deacon asks for the fourth time (he's counted that, too). He fishes out the one, single present he brought with him; the one for Bo. She refused to open it at her apartment, insisting that she wanted to bring it with her. It's nothing he wouldn't want her family to see, but... he hopes she likes it.

"Yes," she says as he takes the bag from her, then closes the trunk. She grabs his arm, stopping him as he starts to head for the path leading up to the front door. Looking him in the eye, Bo gives him a reassuring smile. "Deacon. I promise."

After a second he lets out a long sigh, nodding his head as he forces some of the tension out of his chest. "Okay, okay. Right. Sorry, this is just... I've never done this before," he says with an apologetic look.

"I know," she says, kissing him on the cheek.

She leads him up to the house, still holding his arm. Snow crunches underfoot, though most of the path is cleared by sets of unidentifiable footprints. As they get closer he can hear the sounds of music and voices inside, and on the door there's a beautiful, fresh wreath of pine and holly. Bo glances at him, gives him a smile, and presses the doorbell.

There's a sudden shift in the voices inside and after a second he sees a shadow pass over the frosted glass set into a semicircle at the top of the door. Deacon swallows, doing his best to ignore the way his stomach is doing somersaults. Then, the knob turns, and it opens.

Standing there, wearing a bright red sweater and a pair of slacks, is not a sheep. No, no, not a sheep at all. There is a white wolf standing in the doorway, with a pair of glasses perched on his muzzle.

"Daddy!" Bo exclaims, throwing her arms around his neck. "Merry Christmas!"

Oh god her father is a wolf.

"Merry Christmas sweetheart!" the wolf says, chuckling and grinning, baring an impressive (and terrifying) set of fangs. "Ylva, our daughter is here!"

Past Bo's father, a little way down the hall, another wolf with brown fur pokes her head out of a doorway. "Well don't leave them standing there in the cold, Rollo!"

Oh god her parents are wolves.

"i'm sure they'll eat you right up."

Oh, Sans, that son of a bitch.

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