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.


138. The Reception

There's music playing but you don't really hear it. All you can hear, all you can feel, is Sans's Soul. Every time you look at him or touch him (and you can't stop doing either) it consumes your attention. It's... wonderful, but honestly getting a little distracting.

"Beautiful, absolutely beautiful, darling! If I might boast a little, I was certain that..."

"I've never been to a rite b-before, it's nice to have a chance to see w-what we're gonna be getting into..."

"So, how does it feel to be a married woman?"

"Baby, I don't think she can hear you..."

"babe." His eyes meet yours and you realize you've been staring at Sans this whole time, fixated on the humming of his Soul harmonizing with the thread of yours inside of it. He takes your hand, squeezes it, and oh, that just makes it louder, stronger... How are you supposed to pay attention to your friends and family when his Soul is just so beautiful? You just want to be alone with him now, to see how much more you can feel him now when your bodies are pressed close, skin to bone, with his magic— "hope?"

Okay, maybe more than a little distracting.

Blinking, you will yourself to focus, to listen with your ears instead of... with your Soul, you guess. You tear your gaze away from him, letting the song of his Soul fall to the background of your senses, taking in the people all around you. Toriel is looking at you with a knowing smile. She must have some small idea of what this must be like for you, but not really. How can she possibly understand what it's like for you to have this wholly new sense opened up for you, even if it only works with Sans? It's strange and new and how will you ever get used to this? It's so much just being around him.

"I'm sorry," you blurt out, blushing a little as you pointedly look at each person standing near you. With some regret you let go of Sans's hand, which helps. It helps a lot, actually. He's much quieter now that you're not touching, but now you're mourning the loss. You just want to—

Toriel steps forward and guides your hands back together, folding them between hers and giving you both a tender look. "Today is about you and your union. Revel in it, take joy in your harmony, do not worry about us," she says, squeezing you both before letting go.

You look over at Sans and he's smiling so bright, eyes shining as he just takes you in. His fingers thread between yours. "it'll get easier once you get used to it," he says, and his voice grabs your attention right before you lose your focus. "it's... pretty distracting for me too. can't stop feeling our souls together. wish you coulda known what they felt like separate, so you'd understand how amazing we are together."

"I already know how amazing we are together," you say, leaning over and kissing his cheekbone, doing your best to not get wrapped up in how much stronger that extra contact makes his Soul feel because someone (Bo, you think) wolf whistles and the room fills with laughter.

"Get a room!" Deacon teases, taking a sip of a drink in his hand that you think is alcoholic.

"oh, buddy, if it wouldn't be rude to leave yet we'd already be there," Sans says, arching a brow. Deacon almost chokes on his drink.

Somehow you manage to keep up a conversation, though once or twice they have to repeat your name a few times to keep your attention. It keeps straying to Sans. Because how are you supposed to focus when all you want to do is test this new sensation in every possible way? Well, soon enough you're figuring out what it's like to be away from him because Grillby comes up to your side of the room to talk to your husband (and isn't that something, that he's your husband now) and Deacon pulls you aside. 

"How are you feeling?" he asks you, smoothing his tie down the front of his chest and casting an uncomfortable glance over your shoulder.

Now that's a question. "Uh," you start, then laugh and shake your head. Pressing a hand over your heart, you realize that you can feel something deep in your chest, a humming sound you recognize from Sans's Soul. It's yours; your Soul buzzing somewhere in your ribcage, singing like struck glass. But it's like hearing yourself breathe; you sense it now that you're thinking about it, but it just as quickly fades into the background. "A lot. I'm feeling a lot."

He laughs, a short huff of breath as his eyes flick back to yours. Why does he look so— oh. You glance over your shoulder, and you catch sight of Grillby talking to Sans and Bo.

"I warned you he was gonna be here," you say, giving him a wry smile. "Is it weird?"

"Oh I don't know. Would it be weird for you if your ex just showed up, and you realized that two people you've had sex with are in the same room together? It's bad enough that I can't even think of anything to say to Grillby, let alone the fact that I fully expect him not to speak to me at all just because when did he ever speak to me before? What would we even talk about? I'm just going to... not talk to him." Deacon blinks, his expression crumpling. "Shit, I'm sorry, this isn't what you want to listen to. Hey, so how's that whole... Soul thing going?" he says, waving at your chest.

You look down at yourself, as if there was anything different to see. "It's... Deacon, it's so distracting," you confess, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. "But... in the best way possible? I'm not sure how to explain it, it's just like... There's an entire other part of Sans I've never been able to sense before and now I can and it's just..." Closing your eyes, you focus on the feel of your Soul, of that low hum that's him inside of it. "I love it. I love him and now I can know him like he knows me."

When you open your eyes he's looking at you with a tender expression and you can't help but blush. "Look at you," he says, reaching out and taking your hand. You smile. "Practically glowing like a light bulb."

"Oh, you mean like how you look when you're with Bo?" you tease, and there's that blush creeping up his neck and he ducks his head a little to hide his face.

"Nope. This is your day. We're talking about you and your mushy feelings about Sans," he says pointedly, narrowing his eyes at you. "Your hubby. Scratch that, I'm never using the word 'hubby' again, that's awful."

Laughing, you move in for a hug, holding him close. "You should tell her," you say quietly, and you feel him tense a little.

A pause. "Tell her what?"

"How you feel," you press.

"I think you are projecting your wedding sappiness onto people it has no business being on," he protests, grabbing your shoulders and pushing you gently away. You give him an amused look. He looks... well, not nearly as amused as you are. Maybe even frustrated.

"Maybe," you admit, rolling your eyes. "I just want you guys to be happy."

Deacon huffs, mouth quirking to the side. "We're happy. I'm happy, she's happy. Everybody's happy. Now how about you go be happy with your husband."

"You're the one that pulled me over here," you point out, poking him in the chest.

"Yes, well, I'm sending you back," he says, shooing you away as he flaps his hands in your direction.

"Fine, fine," you say, turning away from him to head back to Sans.

And the second you look at him, the second his eyes meet yours and he smiles, consuming every bit of your attention, you can feel his Soul call out for yours. It's quiet at first, singing under your skin, and as you close the distance it gets louder, stronger, echoed in your chest as your own Soul answers. Then, as you thread your fingers through his, it peaks for just a moment before mellowing to a steady drone. It's a feeling that, given time, you can imagine might be just as familiar and unobtrusive as the feel of his bones under your skin, the sound of his breathing, the dry, musky smell of his jacket. Normal. One day this will be normal, and while you'll be glad for that, right now you just want to savor the newness of it. Because you will never feel like this —like knowing him for the first time— ever again.

"hey wife," he says, pulling you close, and you feel like you might burst just from the sound of those two words coming from his mouth.

Grinning like a fool, you know you're blushing. "Hey husband," you say, and he's blushing too, grinning just as wide.

If it were any other day you might care about how obnoxiously in love you must seem to everyone else, but it's your wedding day! This is why they're all here in the first place. To celebrate your love for one another.

You tear your eyes away from Sans to glance at Grillby and Bo, then over where Deacon is poking his way through a buffet table. Alone. "Bo," you say, catching her eye. "I think Deacon needs you. He's being kind of awkward about Grillby."

Bo and Grillby look at each other, then back at you. Sans is snickering at your side, sounding far too pleased with this turn of events. "What, because he's slept with both of us?" Bo asks, and you have to stop yourself from laughing at the exasperated look on her face.

Grillby crosses his arms over his chest and glances over at Deacon, huffing sparks as he lets out a breathy laugh. He doesn't speak.

"In a nutshell, basically," you say, and Bo rests her hand on her hip.

"I'll go unruffle his feathers," she says, and walks off to go tend to her boyfriend.

"have you had anything to eat?" Sans asks you, rubbing his thumb across the inside of your wrist.

You hesitate, which is sign enough for your husband.

"imma go get you a plate. alphys said you barely ate anything for lunch either." He arches a brow, like he's daring you to object.

"I didn't have an appetite," you say defensively, resting your free hand on your stomach. "And since when was Alphys tattling on me?"

"since she wanted to make sure that someone got you to eat once the rite was over," he teases. With an affectionate look, he tugs you down to nuzzle your cheek, then lets you go. "be right back. grillbz, you keep my wife company while i'm gone."

"You just keep looking for excuses to call me your wife," you say, smiling despite yourself.

"course i do." Sans winks, then heads over to the buffet table.

You watch him go, then, remembering that Grillby is standing beside you, turn your attention to the fire elemental. He's looking at you, smiling, and after a second he holds out a hand. You place yours in his, the heat from his fingers pressing against your skin as he squeezes and his face visibly brightens.

"I'm very happy for you," he says softly, and coming from Grillby... it means a lot. He's known Sans since he and Papyrus moved to Snowdin, and you suspect saw him at some of his worst. Hell, he'd seen Sans through your first fight. "Congratulations. You're both fortunate to have each other."

"Thank you." You have to resist the urge to hug him, because you're not sure that he's much of one for physical contact, but then he surprises you. He holds out his arm, offering, and you take the opportunity. He's incredibly warm, you can feel it right through his shirt as you embrace him, just long enough to be polite before letting go.

"And, if you could," he says, and you think this is the most he's said to you in one sitting. "Can you please tell Deacon there are no hard feelings?"

Hiding your smile behind a hand, you nod. "Yeah, I'll be sure to talk to him."

Grillby nods back.

Frisk and Asriel are staring at the wedding cake. It's not at all like what they've seen in movies before. No delicate white frosting, no ornate tiers. Instead it's a rich, chocolate cake studded with slices of strawberry and blueberries. Frisk just wants to pick them off and eat them.

"Do you think they'd notice if some of the berries were gone?" Asriel asks, echoing their own thoughts.

"Probably. When are we gonna have cake?" Frisk answers, pouting.

"If we keep staring at it I'm going to eat some and then Mom will get mad at me." He takes hold of Frisk's hand and tugs them away from the table.

They go over to the couch, climbing up onto it to sit by themselves. None of the adults are sitting, which is weird because there's so many chairs everywhere. They're just standing around, talking and eating. You and Sans keep staring at each other, being all mushy. Which is nice, but kind of gross. Frisk is happy that you're happy, that now the three of you are really a family now, but they don't want to see you two kiss so much.

And they think that your mushiness is rubbing off on everyone else. Papyrus and Mettaton keep giving each other these affectionate looks and when he thinks nobody is looking Mettaton pulls him off into the kitchen. Frisk doesn't want to know what that's all about. Mr. Stuart and his girlfriend are standing near the stereo, drinks in their hands. She's swaying a little to the music, trying to get him to dance with her maybe, and he's grinning and laughing. Once again, Frisk thinks that it's just too weird seeing him away from school. It just isn't right.

Alphys and Undyne are talking to you and Sans, arms around each other. Whatever you're saying has Alphys blushing and Undyne grinning. They're engaged now too, so does that mean there's gonna be another wedding? Everyone seems to be having fun but... to be honest, Frisk and Asriel are kind of bored.

"We could probably go play games in your room. It's not like anybody is paying attention to us," Frisk says, glancing over at Asriel.

And that's when they notice the weird, scrunched up look on his face. He's thinking about something, not even paying attention. Whatever it is, Frisk can't feel anything bad through their connection, so he's not upset... Stroking his ear and cocking his head to the side, he jumps a little when Frisk pokes him in the side.

"Hey, I was talking to you," Frisk says, pinching him and making Asriel laugh.

"Quit it!" he protests, giggling until he lets out a loud bleat and shoves them away.

Grinning, Frisk waits for Asriel to catch his breath, holding his side. "What are you thinking about?"

His green eyes flick over to Frisk's, then down at his lap, pressing his hands against his knees. Hesitating, Asriel wrinkles his snout for a second before meeting their gaze again and holding it. "Were you paying attention to your parents' vows?"

"Sort of," Frisk says, tilting their head curiously. "Which part?"

"The last part. 'My Soul is yours, and yours is mine.' Isn't that... Frisk, isn't that kind of what we did? I mean..." He trails off, blushing and looking down at his knees again. His hand is at his ear, squeezing. "Maybe not exactly. But it's... I don't know. Maybe I shouldn't have brought it up."

Frisk reaches for Asriel's hands, turning on the couch so that they're facing one another. Smiling, they make sure he's looking them in the eye. "Does it matter? We're gonna be together forever anyway. Besides, what we have is totally different. Special, just for us."

"Yeah, you're right," he says quietly, nodding to himself as his brow furrows. "It's not like..." Asriel lets out a nervous laugh. "It's not like we're married."

Frisk laughs too, nudging Asriel's forehead with theirs. "Maybe someday. When we're grownups."

He's blushing darker now. "...Maybe."

They're about to say something else, to tease him, but then Asgore's booming voice fills the room, calling everyone over to the cake. And, well, right now cake seems a lot more important than seeing how red they can turn Asriel's face.

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