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.


47. More Than a Name

Sans takes Frisk to school in the morning, giving them a hug at the front door and an affectionate hair-ruffle before he leaves. Grumbling to themselves, they comb their fingers through their hair to flatten it back out as they go inside to join their classmates. It's still early so everyone that's there is talking and playing. The teacher greets them from her desk, and Frisk gives her a polite smile.

"Yo, Frisk!" Kid calls out, swaying back and forth in their best approximation of a wave. They run over to meet Frisk by the door and end up tripping over the corner of a desk, but Frisk catches them around the shoulders before they fall. "Thanks! That was awesome!"

"You're welcome," Frisk says, smiling at their friend. "You should be more careful."

"Haha, I know, right? Everyone keeps telling me that," Kid says, shifting from foot to foot and looking a little sheepish. "But hey, I wanted to ask you something. So, uh... I can't believe I have to ask, but I gotta know... Is Sans your dad? He's always walking you to school and stuff, and I've seen him with you and your mom a lot."

Frisk twists the sleeves of their sweater in their hands, fighting the urge to cover their mouth. "Um, no. He's not."

"Oh, really? Then, who is your dad?" Kid asks, oblivious to the nervous way Frisk looks down at their ratty sneakers.

"I dunno, I never met him," Frisk says, shrugging. They hadn't given much thought to their real dad before, but now that Kid's brought it up they start to piece together an idea.

"Oh," the armless monster says, unfazed. "Well, is something going on with Sans and your mom?"

"They're dating, if that's what you mean."

Kid looks about ready to say something, but before they can the teacher stands up from her desk and claps her hands together to silence the room. "Okay everyone, good morning! Let's take our seats because I need to tell you about King Asgore's visit to the school next week before we get started with class!"

Frisk is grateful for the interruption, but the reprieve from Kid's questions only lasts until lunchtime. The moment they're allowed up from their desks Kid is at their side again, following them to the cubbies where they keep their lunches.

"Yo! So, I was thinking, if Sans and your mom are dating, then that means he could be your dad. You know, if he wanted to. That's what happened to Izzie!" Kid says, grinning and and nudging Frisk with their shoulder as they snatch up their lunch between their teeth. "Dahd ood dee ool ight?"

Frisk picks up their own lunch, looking down at their name written in big, messy letters with red marker. They have no problem recognizing Sans's bad handwriting, not after weeks of seeing it in the margins of their scrap paper while working through sums together. He's been there for the two of you like no one ever has before, and Frisk's gotten used to it. His help with homework, watching movies together on the couch which end up turning into naps on accident, seeing you happier than they've ever seen you before... Frisk smiles. "Yeah, I think that would be pretty cool!"

You're in the kitchen, getting an early start on dinner when Sans and Frisk get home. Your child shouts a cheerful greeting the second they're inside. By the time you hear the door shut, Frisk is already in the kitchen, dumping their backpack on the table and rushing over to you, flinging their arms around your waist. You raise you hands up with a disgruntled sound.

"Sweetie be careful! I've got a knife in my hand and I could have cut you," you say, lowering your empty hand to rest on top of Frisk's head. "Did you have a good day at school?"

"Mhmm!" they say, glancing over at the counter where you're working. "What's for dinner?"

"Chicken noodle soup." You grab a handful of the carrots you've already chopped, dumping it into the stockpot placed on the stove. Sans comes into the kitchen, making his way to the two of you.

"I thought chicken noodle soup came in a can," Frisk says, giving you a dubious look.

"Well they don't really have that down here," you say. You tried to see if maybe the rabbit's shop had any somehow, but no luck. So you finally decided to try your hand at making it from scratch. "So I'm doing what I can."

"hey babe," Sans says, and the two of you lean over Frisk to share a quick kiss. Frisk groans in protest to being squished between you. "so looks like next week asgore's coming to visit the school. frisk's gonna have to take a sick day or something."

Surprised, your eyebrows raise as you give Sans a cautious look when he pulls away. "Is that going to be enough? Won't that look suspicious?"

"kids get sick all the time, even monster kids. the two've you will just have to stay inside that day is all."

Sans's lack of concern is reassuring, but you're still nervous about the idea of having the king here in Snowdin. As far as you know, he's the only other person with a reason to want your Souls, and one of the few people that can recognize you and Frisk as human on sight.

"If you're sure..." you say, looking back down at the cutting board. You slowly start chopping up the rest of the carrots.

"i'll make sure nothing happens. i'll even take the day off if that'll make you feel better," he offers, leaning against the edge of the stove.

"It would, but I get the feeling that Papyrus won't like that very much," you say, giving Sans a wry smile.

"Mooom!" Frisk whines, tightening their arms around your middle. You glance down at them then back at the cutting board. "I wanna talk to you about something."

"Well I'm right here sweetie, what is it?" You scoop up more carrot slices in your hands and dump it into the pot. The celery is next.

Frisk glances back at Sans, and Sans just blinks. "I wanna talk to you alone," Frisk mumbles.

Sans shoves his hands in his pockets, shrugging amiably. "ok, ok, i can take a hint. i'll be on the couch if you need me." He turns and beats a lazy path out of the kitchen to give the two of you some privacy.

Curiosity piqued, you look down at Frisk as they let go of your waist and start twisting the ends of their sleeves in front of them. Whatever it is they want to talk about, it has them nervous. You return your attention to chopping celery, not wanting Frisk to feel like you're scrutinizing them too much.

"You can talk to me about anything, you know that," you say, guiding the chef's knife with smooth motions. For a moment the only sound the fills the kitchen is the crisp sound of the blade slicing through celery.

"Now that I know you're my mom," Frisk starts, speaking slow and carefully measuring their words. You start to feel tense, but you fight not to show it. "I was wondering who my dad is."

You hesitate for a second, caught off guard, but resume chopping. You don't want Frisk to feel like they've asked something wrong, and honestly you should have expected this. Maybe part of you was expecting this. "He's... Well, his name is Christopher," you say, and it feels strange to tell Frisk about him. "He um... sweetie I'm not sure what you want to know about him."

"Is he still alive?" Frisk asks, and when you glance over at them their expression is earnest and curious.

"Yes, he is," you say, bracing yourself.

"Why don't I know him?"

You have to be careful. How you answer this question is too important. But the more you hesitate the more Frisk will pick up on your worry, and that might do just as much harm as giving the wrong answer. Is there a right answer? You don't think there is. All you can do is your best. "When I got pregnant with you, he and I were very young. And he just wasn't ready for the responsibility. He... decided it would be best for him to not be involved with us. And that's not your fault! You hadn't even been born yet, so don't ever think that it's because of you, sweetie."

Frisk seems to mull this over, chewing on the inside of their lip. You scrape the chopped celery off the cutting board and into the pot, then brush off your hands and crouch in front of them. In this position they're a tiny bit taller than you, and Frisk meets your eyes. "So he didn't want to be with us?" It's less of a question and more of a statement, like they know the answer but they want to be reassured it's the right one. Frisk doesn't sound sad, or upset, and you're not sure if that's a good thing or not.

"That's right," you say, taking hold of Frisk's shoulders. "But that's his loss, isn't it? Because there isn't a greater kid anywhere in the world."

Frisk smiles, looking shy all of a sudden. "You're really great too, Mom," they mumble, bashful. "But... Sans does want to be with us. Does that mean he can be my dad?"

You don't even have time to think of how to reply to that question, because of course Sans chooses that moment to come back to the kitchen. He's obviously heard Frisk because he's stuck in the doorway with the expression of a deer caught in headlights. The two of you lock eyes, and you can feel the weight of Frisk's question weighing down on both of you. Sans looks like he'd like nothing better than to be anywhere else right now, and can you really blame him? There's no good way for either of you to handle this right now. 

"Sweetie it's... it's not really that simple," you say, looking back down at Frisk.

"Why not? My real dad decided he didn't want to be my dad anymore, so can't Sans decide to be my Dad instead?" Frisk's eyes are wide and innocent, chewing on their lip as they try to figure out this puzzle you've laid before them.

"That's something that he and I would need to talk about. It's a big responsibility, being someone's parent," you say, feeling the weight of Sans's eyes on you. What if this isn't something that Sans wants? But, he knew that being with you included Frisk, so surely this can't come as a complete surprise.

This isn't something you were expecting to deal with today.

"So... is that a maybe?" Frisk asks you, their expression brightening.

"Frisk, is that something you'd want? For Sans to be your dad?" You fight the urge to look up at Sans, to try and see what he's thinking.

Frisk flings their arms around your neck, catching you by surprise as they give you a big hug and bury their face into the side of your neck. You fold them up in your arms, cradling them against your chest as you sink to your knees, and when you finally let yourself look up at the doorway Sans has one hand hanging in the air, like he was going to reach out for the two of you but caught himself halfway. There's something in his face that you can only describe as longing. It's painful and bittersweet, and you wish you knew exactly what he was thinking so you knew what to say.

"Yeah," Frisk says, their voice muffled between your two bodies, pressed close. "I wished, a while ago, with Papyrus... Back in Waterfall. That the four of us could be a family. And if Sans was my dad then Papyrus would be my uncle! And we'd all be a family like I wished."

You feel your eyes start to well up with tears, and you shut them to keep yourself from crying. You want that too. You want to be a real family, but how can you make that promise so soon? It's only been two and a half months since you started dating Sans and just shy of three since you even met. There's too many reasons to say no, and too many reasons to say yes.

Swallowing and taking a moment to breathe, you give Frisk an extra-tight squeeze. "I'm not sure we can decide that just yet sweetie, but I promise I'll talk to Sans about it. Just... keep this between us now, okay? I don't want you to surprise him."

"Okay," Frisk agrees, nodding. They try to pull out of your hug, pushing against your shoulders. You open your eyes and when you blink to clear them Sans is gone. Letting Frisk go, you give them an affectionate smile.

"You promise?" you ask, leaning forward to press your forehead to theirs.

"I promise," Frisk says, grinning and pushing back.

"Okay, how about you tell me about your day while I finish getting dinner started?" You push yourself onto your feet and hoist Frisk up by their hands, nudging them over to a kitchen chair.

And with the easily-distracted nature of a six year old, you and Frisk change topics without a backwards glance.

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