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.


161. Don't Keep Me Out


"I don't want to talk about it," you mutter, yanking your clothes off over your head. "It's late, I'm tired and angry and... I just want to get some sleep."

You can feel Sans watching you as you dump your shirt and bra on the floor and shove your pants down past your waist. He's at your back, silent as you pull open a dresser drawer. There's some of Sans's old shirts that you sleep in, along with a few colorful sets of proper pajamas. Feeling spiteful, you slip into a green nightgown. Pulling your hair out of the collar and combing your fingers through it, when you turn around Sans is still standing there in the center of the room, watching you.

"What?" you ask petulantly. When he doesn't immediately answer you walk over towards the overhead light switch. "Fine. Well you can get changed in the dark if—"

A pair of strong arms slide around your waist and pull you back against a broad ribcage, ignoring your small sound of protest. You feel Sans press his forehead between your shoulder blades, burying his face in your hair. He holds you tightly, and there's something desperate in his grip. He's shaking.

"don't," he whispers, and all you can do is stare at the wall, arms at your sides as you bite your lip. You're mad at him. You want to be mad. "i know you're angry, but don't keep me out right now, babe. please."

"You attacked my best friend, after he saved Frisk's life. You scared them. They thought you had... Why would Frisk think you were capable of killing Deacon?"

Sans tenses, rubbing his head against your back as he shakes it. "i didn't mean to scare them. i just... they almost got hurt, or worse, and then seeing that barrier magic... i panicked. i trusted him and and he'd been lying this whole time."

"Yeah, I know how that feels," you mutter darkly, ignoring your instinct to cover Sans's hands with your own, to try and comfort him. You're hurt, and that bitter part of you isn't ready to let that go. "To find out that the whole time you've known someone, they've been keeping a secret from you. I have experience."

He flinches, and you feel satisfied that you've struck a nerve. But a moment later guilt twists in your stomach. Sans is your husband, the man that you love more than anything. Yes you're angry with him, but lashing out isn't doing either of you any good.

"That was cruel of me," you say.

"it's true, though."

Sighing, you drape your arms over his, gripping his hands. You let yourself relax just a little into his hold. "I'm tired. I'm too tired to fight with you. This isn't done, I just... I love you, but I can't do this right now."

"do what?" he asks, and the fear in his voice makes your heart ache.

"This talk. About you and Deacon. Let's just go to bed."

"You need to eat something."

Deacon gives a pointed look at the clock on the stove as Bo opens the fridge and starts to scan the contents. "It's almost three thirty in the morning. It's a bit late for a midnight snack," he says, but waits obediently beside the sink as she pushes things around.

She reemerges with some mayonnaise and lunchmeat, as well as a packet of cheese. "It'll help you recover your magic quicker. Food is good for the Soul," she says, and there's something off about her tone. It's brisk and casual, her words sound practiced.

"Bo, are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Look, just let me make you this sandwich and you'll feel better and you can heal yourself," she says. Her voice sounds tight.

She's not fine. Ignoring the ache in his chest, he goes to her side, touching her arm to try and get her attention. "Hey," he says gently. She's laying out two slices of bread, ignoring him. "Hey, come on. Usually I'm the one clamming up."

"Just let me help you!" she blurts out, tears in her eyes as she turns to look at him. Deacon is taken aback by her fear, the slight wobble of her chin as her face scrunches up. She grabs a butter knife and starts spreading mayonnaise across the bread. "I know that this will help, so just... let me do this."

"I'll be fine," he says gently, stroking her cheek with his thumb, wiping away a stray tear that slips down her fur.

"Ever since you told me what you are, I've been scared about what would happen if anyone else found out," she says, not looking at him. Bo swallows. "Sans could have killed you."

"Oh, he's not Sansy anymore?" he teases, giving her a weak smile.

Bo shoots him a halfhearted glare. "Asgore could have sent you off the mountain. Banned you from coming through the Line."

"Then you'd finally have to learn how to drive, like I keep nagging you about," Deacon says, stroking her arm. He pushes the fabric of her short sleeve out of his way as he leans over to kiss the curve of her shoulder. Some of the tension is easing out of her body, slowly but surely. "You'd come and see me."

"Or any other number of things. Deacon, this could have gone so terribly," she says, finishing up the sandwich with a diagonal cut. 

"But it didn't. Thank god," he mutters, sighing. He takes the plate as she hands it to him but he sets it back down, pulling Bo into his arms and holding her tight. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost this. I... I can't go back to how things used to be. I won't."

"I'll fight anyone who tries to take you from me. Sans, or Asgore, or Grant, or any of those other mages..." Bo tucks her head under his chin. "Hope will help me."

He's not sure what to say to that. Having people willing to stand up for him, to protect him, it still feels strange. To be loved and defended. Deacon dips his head so he can kiss her, cupping the back of her neck as she melts against him. But she pulls away too soon, fixing him with a chastising look.

"Eat your sandwich," she says, and he knows he ought to just do as she says. He lets her take care of him, like she wants.

Things are tense after you and Sans get up for the day. You both slept poorly, and you just feel too cranky and irritable to have a decent conversation with him. To make matters worse he keeps watching you like he's waiting for you to bring it up, but refusing to do so himself. You don't speak much. You get ready to take a shower and don't invite him to join you. He doesn't ask, instead heading downstairs alone.

Normally showers help you feel better, but by the time the water runs cold you still feel agitated. As you enter the kitchen Sans catches your eye but you ignore him, instead focused on the stove where Papyrus is making breakfast. He must have been told some excuse for why you and Sans are home already from your weekends, because he doesn't ask you. He just greets you brightly and flashes you a big smile. You can't help but smile back, feeling your sour mood lighten just a little.

But your brother-in-law senses the tension between you. He keeps glancing between the two of you as you eat, notices that you aren't talking or glancing or touching each other like you normally do. Instead of reaching for Sans's hand you fiddle with your friendship bracelet, looking at the stripes of green and dark red. Sighing, you finish your food and slide off the barstool.

"HOPE," Papyrus says, catching you before you go. "UM. DID YOU HAVE ANY PLANS FOR TODAY?"

You feel Sans's eyes on you. "No. I just need to go pick up Frisk from the campground in a little bit. What's up?"


The thought of getting out of the house, being around people who don't know about this mess with Deacon is tempting. Staying home with Sans, dodging around what you should but don't want to talk about sounds... awful. Besides, you think Frisk could use some fun right now just as much as you can.

"Yeah, I'd like that," you say, smiling at him. "Let me go get changed. And I'm driving."

Upstairs, as you're pulling a blouse off a hanger, you're not surprised to find Sans waiting for you where he wasn't a second ago. You shut the closet door, arching a brow at him as you slip the shirt on over your head.

"fine, you win. let's talk," he says, looking at the floor.

You frown. "'You win'? That's how you want to start this conversation?"

"look, just don't go, ok? stay and talk to me," he says, glancing up to meet your eyes. His expression is tense, his arms rigid at his sides. The pupils searching your face are small and faint.

"I don't want to talk right now," you mutter, turning towards your dresser. There, where it always is, is your locket from Sans. You push it around with the tip of your finger, but don't pick it up.

"i just want to make things better."

"Do you?" you demand, twisting so you can look at him, scowling. "Because I haven't heard you apologize. And not just to me. Don't you feel sorry at all for what you did?"

"i screwed up, overreacted—"

"Are you sorry or not!" you exclaim, balling your hands into fists. "Because you did more than just screw up. I don't care about the dissonance or whatever the hell is going on, you were friends two days ago! And the first thing you did was try and turn the others against him. You just couldn't let go of the fact that you thought you were right about him this whole time."

"i was right," he says, frowning. "but—"

"Oh you asshole."

"but," he continues, fixing you with a hard look. He grits his teeth. "i am sorry."

You shake your head, hissing out a sigh. "I don't believe you," you mutter, turning away from him and snatching up the locket. You yank it on over your head, begrudgingly. "I'm going out with your brother. We can talk more later. Maybe you can take the time alone to think."

As you head for the door he catches your wrist. "wait, just... don't leave like this," he says, and the pleading tone in his voice makes you relent just a little.

You turn, kiss his cheek, and when he tries to pull you closer you slip away again. "I love you, Sans. I'll see you tonight."

He stares at you for a moment before giving a weak, resigned sigh. "love you too."

The day on the set with Mettaton and Papyrus is what you and Frisk needed. It's a good distraction for both of you, and Frisk spends most of the afternoon at your side. It's a nice change of pace from the last two weeks where they were mostly ignoring you, but after Sans's stunt in the forest... you suppose you're not the least favorite anymore.

Frisk doesn't seem to want to talk much about what happened either, aside from making sure that Deacon is okay. They ask if he's in trouble, and when you reassure them that he isn't they seem relieved. You wonder if you and Frisk should sit down with Deacon and thank him properly for what he did, and maybe talk about all of this... mage stuff. And what this might mean for Frisk. You're convinced that he might have some kind of understanding of what's going on with their powers. But that's something else you'll have to talk about with Sans first.

Filming ends early for the day, around dinnertime. As you all pile into your car, with Papyrus in the passenger seat and Mettaton in the back with Frisk, you're grateful for the time to help clear your head. You're in a much better mood, and you think that after you've eaten you'll pull Sans aside so you can actually talk.

As you roll up to the checkpoint at the Line and put the car in park, you're a little surprised when two soldiers come to stand at the driver's and passenger's side windows. Is this a new procedure? You haven't been through the checkpoint since this new group of soldiers arrived. Glancing over at Papyrus, you're not comforted by the nervous look on his face.

"We're just coming back in," you say, looking up at the man standing beside you. He's older, with gray hair peeking from beneath his cap. The patch on his uniform reads 'Jacobs'. The name sounds familiar. "Do you need—"

"If the two monsters would step out of the car, please," he says, cutting you off and making some sort of gesture to the other soldier.

"What?" you ask, bewildered as you look at Papyrus again. "What's going on?"

"Ma'am, you and your child stay where you are, but the monsters need to exit the vehicle," Jacobs says, sterner this time.

"Darling, I don't like this," Mettaton says, and when you glance over your shoulder he looks worried.

"I... There's nothing we can do but do as he says," you say, anxiousness forming a lump in the pit of your stomach.

"DID SOMETHING HAPPEN?" Papyrus asks, twisting his seatbelt between his hands.

"Are they refusing to comply?" Jacobs asks, looking down at you again.

"No, no!" you say in a rush, turning back to Mettaton and Papyrus. "Please, just do what they want. We don't want any trouble."

Mettaton purses his lips and sweat dots the side of Papyrus's skull, but the two of them get out of the car. You're watching them, hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel as the other soldier shuts the car doors and escorts them towards the checkpoint booth.

"You're free to go," Jacobs says, giving you a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

You look at the gate. It's still closed. "You need to open the gate," you say carefully, an icy finger of dread running down your spine.

"Oh, I'm sorry for the confusion," he says, his smile disappearing. "But no outside entry by humans is permitted at this time. Once all monsters have returned to Ebott, the Line is closed until further notice."

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