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.


139. Two Becoming One

There weren't exactly many options for where to go after the wedding. Papyrus and Frisk could have gone out for the weekend to give you a few days alone at home, but that isn't what Sans wanted for your first days as husband and wife. No, he wanted to do something special. Or, at least, more special than normal. So when Mettaton offered a room at his hotel, Sans had little choice than to accept. In a perfect world the two of you would have gone past the Line, gone somewhere new, but this isn't a perfect world. Far from it.

Though, right now, as he's looking at you standing there in your wedding dress, it feels pretty damn close.

"I guess it's only fitting that we're here," you say, giving him a wry smile as you glance around the room. "At least the room isn't covered in Mettatons this time."

You've been getting better at focusing around him, at least when you're not touching. Soon he suspects that it'll be second nature, another part of your senses like it is for him. But right now he feels selfish of your attention. He doesn't want you looking at anything but him. Crossing the short distance between you, he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close against him as he holds your gaze. You blush a little, and somehow, even after all these months together, you still manage to look shy.

"and this time i'm not letting you outta my sight," he says, almost growls, his protective streak getting the better of him. "nobody is gonna lay a finger, or a vine, or anything on you except for me."

You flush darker, cupping the side of his skull and dipping your head so that you're pressed cheekbone to cheek. "You have to let me out of your sight at least a little," you murmur, and you let out a soft, pleased sound that's close to a hum.

It blends with the resonation of your Soul, envelops him as he focuses on the feel of the two of you together. He never thought he'd be able to hear himself echoed back to him inside of you, never thought he'd be able to carry a bit of you with him no matter where he goes. It's more comforting than he could ever imagine, knowing that all he has to do is focus inward to know that you're there.

"and why should i have to do that?" he asks, nuzzling right under your jaw, teeth grazing your throat.

He can feel you swallow. "Because I have to go to the bathroom," you admit, and Sans can't help but laugh. Pulling away to look you in the eye, you cover your mouth to try and hide your smile. "Also, uh, I need to slip into something a little less comfortable." He thinks you're trying to recover some element of seduction, but when you bite your lip you just look a little embarrassed. "Wow, that didn't sound very sexy, did it?"

"you're always sexy to me," he says, chuckling. "go on."

You seem reluctant to let him go, a feeling he shares, but after a moment you do. Your suitcase is sitting in the corner, and you stop to fish a small bundle and a hanger out of it before heading to the bathroom. Before you head inside, you turn to fix him with a look as he starts to shrug out of his tuxedo jacket. "You can take that off but don't you dare get undressed," you say, arching a brow.

"and what about you?" He smirks.

You smirk back. "You'll see."

Sans watches you close the door, and the moment he's alone he's not quite sure what to do with himself. He discards the jacket over the back of a chair, then takes a quick glance around the room. Bed, television, small sofa, desk and chair... It's beautifully furnished and much more tasteful than the original resort, which is a bit of a relief. He rocks forward onto his toes, fidgeting a little. Unbuttoning the cuffs, he rolls up his sleeves to get a little more comfortable. He can take off his shoes, right? That should be fine. Going to sit in the middle of the couch, he unlaces the stiff dress shoes and sets them aside.

With a long sigh of relief, he feels some of the tension of the day ease off his shoulders now that he's alone. You're married now. Nothing can ever change that. Looking down at the ring on his finger, he twists it to center the inlaid heart, then presses his left hand to his sternum. Closing his eyes, he just takes a moment to listen, to feel the change in his Soul. 

He'd never really paid much attention to his own Soul before. It had always been there, like a heartbeat if he had one. Now that it's different though, he can't help but listen. His attention keeps coming back to it, studying it, mapping out the changes in his mind.

Minutes pass, he's not sure how many, but he doesn't realize that you've come out of the bathroom until he hears you clear your throat. Eyes flying open, the second he sees you, that he's aware of you there in front of him he can feel your Soul brush against his consciousness. It's as beautiful and gentle as it always is, even with the addition of himself harmonizing within it. Or maybe that just makes it all the more wonderful to him.

And then he sees you. He lets the feel of your Soul fall to the wayside because you're standing there in more white lace, but this time... This time there is so much less of it. He can see your panties through the sheer fabric of something that looks like an incredibly short dress. He's not sure what it's called but whatever it is he likes it. White, see-through lace covers your breasts in an enticing and failed attempt at decency. You've freed your hair from those tight braids, plucked out the flowers and let it fall in dark waves over your shoulders. Watching him and teasing your bottom lip with your teeth, you bury one hand into your hair while the other rests on the curve of a hip.

"oh, damn," is all he can manage, and as his jaw goes a little slack you're smiling and biting back a laugh. You look so pleased with yourself.

You take the last few steps between yourself and him, and without him even making a conscious thought he reaches for you with both hands. Tangling your fingers with his, you let him keep you steady as you straddle his legs, settling onto his lap. He tries to let you go, wants to take hold of your hips but you don't let him. Instead you pin his hands to the back of the couch on either side of him, leaning in close and tracing the line of his jaw with the tip of your nose before following after with your lips.

Closing his eyes, he tips his head back with a soft groan, relinquishing any thoughts of control he has. For the moment. He relaxes beneath you, savoring the feel of you on top of him, the way your lips feel against his bones, your soft fingers holding on tight. Listening for your Soul, he's not surprised to hear it singing.

"How do you get anything done when I'm around? If my Soul is anywhere near as distracting as yours," you breathe against his neck, making him shiver. "All I want to do is see how strong it feels."

"you're just distracting in general," he teases, and as you let go of his hands to reach for his vest, he slips his fingers beneath the hem of this gossamer nightgown you're wearing. You arch your back as he follows the curve of your waist, smiling up at you as he cracks his eyes open. "and speaking of souls... if you'll let me—"

"Yes," you say, leaving his vest unbuttoned but still on as you reach for his left hand, shifting it up to cover your heart. You're smiling at him, searching his face, and he doesn't need to wonder how you know what he wants. You just know him so well. "I want to know what it feels like now."

"ok." He takes a breath, steadying himself as he pulls his hand back and reaches out with his magic, tugging your Soul with him. It floats free, bathing you both in rich red light as it hovers there between the two of you, just waiting.

"Oh," you say softly, resting your hands on his chest as you lean in to get a better look. Some more of the cracks have healed up, just a little. The scars are still there, they always will be, but they've mended most of the gaps. Not all, but most. "It's... I thought it wasn't going to heal any more."

"one day all those cracks are gonna be gone," he says, tearing his eyes away from your Soul (if there is anything more singularly distracting right in this moment, it's that) so he can hold your gaze. "and i can't wait to see it with you."

And before you can argue, to try and tell him that you don't think you'll ever fully heal, he takes your Soul in his hand.

It's... god it's like night and day. Before it was like being swallowed up. Like being thrown into the ocean and trusting you not to let him drown. And he did trust you, but that feeling of being so wholly overwhelmed was frightening. Exhausting. But this. This is balance. Harmony. He can feel you, every bit of you; it hums over his bones, blends the edges where you're touching each other.

Your joy, your love, the swell of pride at being his wife, of him being your husband. He feels them, mirrors them back at you because he feels them just as strongly. Never before does he think you've ever been so completely in sync. There's no fear, no worries here in this moment together. There's just the two of you and your Souls.

"it's so easy," he blurts out, and he can feel your amusement before he hears your laughter. His words and your sounds are echoed, duplicated as he listens through two minds at once. "it's like—"

"—we're already linked. Like we just—"

"—need to tap into it. follow the path. how did you—?"

"—know what you were going to say? I don't know. Maybe it's—"

"—part of the connection. that makes sense. babe, this is—"

"—amazing. Sans I can feel so much."

Then it hits him, this sudden, strong need for you (and you for him) as he's keenly aware of you sitting in his lap, half-naked. He tugs your Soul down in front of your stomach, cupping his other hand behind your neck. (You let him pull you down, leaning forward over your Soul, pressing open-mouthed kisses along his jaw. His bones are smooth and warm against the sensitive flesh of your lips.) Sans is both distantly and acutely aware of you tugging on the knot of his tie, feeling the pull against the back of his neck even as he can feel the fabric beneath your hands. (He should wear ties more often. He should dress up more often, he looks so good. You know he knows what you're thinking, what you're feeling, and you just want him to know how much you want him right now.)

He buries his fingers in your hair (you want him to pull, just a little) and pulls you to the side, grazing his teeth down your neck (you love it when he does this, have you told him enough how much?) and then bites down into the meat of your shoulder. You gasp, he groans, low in his chest, and under it all, under every sound is the harmony of your two Souls.

He's not sure when or how you both get undressed. You can't get his shirt off, not without him having to let go of your Soul, so you just push it open, tangling your fingers in his ribs and holding on. There's so much going on, too many thoughts that aren't his, hands that he can feel but not control. All he knows is that you're both desperate for one another, for your bodies to join like your Souls. Then he's inside of you, thrusting up with his hips as you grind down against him, your pleasure magnified as, fuck, you share the feeling of each stroke of his cock.

Later he might lament the fact that he didn't get to really enjoy taking you out of your lingerie, but right now he doesn't care. He's too caught up, too wrapped up in the feel of your bodies and Souls tangled together so inextricably that he's not sure where he ends and you begin. There are hands, and mouths, and teeth, and soon enough before he can even fathom and end to this, even think he's anywhere close, the two of you crest that peak together, so suddenly and so strongly that Sans loses his grip on your Soul. As your connection severs and the burgundy heart slips back into your chest, you collapse boneless against him, pressing your forehead against his jaw.

"Fuck," you breathe as, trembling, he wraps his arms around you and holds you close. "That... Do you...? Holy shit."

"do i what?" he says weakly, his eyes sliding closed as he tips his head back against the couch, settling you more comfortably in his lap. "love you? i dunno if that was your question, but i love you."

You give a tiny, exhausted laugh. "Do you remember how I got naked? Do you remember anything?"

"uh. not really." He yawns. "s'all just a big... sexy blur."

"Maybe not how I'd describe it, but yeah," you mumble, feeling a little heavier on him as you nestle against him. "Oh, we're still on the couch."

"mmm. plenty of time to get the rest of the furniture after a nap," he says. "got all weekend."

He's starting to drift off, and he thinks you are too, at least until he hears your voice again. "I love you, husband."

Sans smiles, tilting his head to rest against yours. "love you too, wife."

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