it's 1 am i have work at 9 but i had to finish writing this cringe kustard bullshit it's awful i wrote it in an hour enjoy
For Keeps
Sans doesn't make promises. They're too hard to keep in his line of being alive. Not that he couldn't, but it's taxing when all your energy is spent waking up in the morning. Which is why he doesn't own an alarm clock, and sleeps when he's tired instead of at bedtime. Which is usually.
He skips out on most things when he can. If he says he'll be there, he will. For how long, he doesn't know. He's partial to the Irish goodbye, and now that he's gotten expectations of himself right where he wants them (rock bottom) he's keen on giving the people what they want. His brand is important after all.
The last thing he promised to do was to watch every new Mew Mew Kissy Cutie movie that came out with Alphys. She wasn't happy when the writer announced retirement and therefore the end of the series, but he felt a sense of relief. His agenda was cleared, it was like a weight off of his shouders taking a shortcut from her and Undy-Pants' place to his bed. He lay there in complete silence, listening. He heard cars outside, and crickets, so it must've still been early. Paps' wasn't home, because he would still be up indulging in 1-3 of his many hobbies at once. His 'wind down' time, Sans called it.
Papyrus had a job(s) now. And a lot of friends. Sans found himself listing them all off by biggest physical attribute, because he couldn't be bothered to remember the names of 28 people all at once. Then he listed all of his brothers achievements in his head. He'd gone to college, somehow for culinary arts, child care, and something called Adventure Education. Sans wasn't too sure how human colleges worked to be honest, but papy wanted to try as much as possible. And he did.
Now Sans was listing every major achievement his friends had made since arriving to the surface. Tori got to be a teacher. Grillby opened up a bar, where sans was a regular of course. He seemed happier, he could tell. Alphys and Undyne were finally together. He'd noted how much more social Al had gotten too. The kid seemed to be doing well. They were in middle school now, fastest in their grade.
Papyrus was thriving. Most importantly they were all free, and taken care of. Safe.
Yeah. Things were pretty good.
So maybe he didn't have to stick around anymore. No more promises to keep, no more people to protect. He didn't have to worry about getting up in the morning, or any other time anymore.
He let himself sink into the mattress. Wondering if it'd fuse to his body before he dusted. Guilt sunk in, and he exhaled it. Didn't need it anymore, there was nothing to feel bad about missing. Nothing anyone needed him to do, to be.
Making a promise, is like giving away apart of yourself. For keeps. And people can hold it over you whether you like it or not. Trying to hold onto as much of your soul as you can, when there's already so little- well it's a wonder he lasted this long.
He doesn't remember letting his eyes slip shut, or falling asleep. It just happens, that's how dusting goes. One second you're there, and then you're not, unless there's something keeping you. But Sans doesn't have any unfinished business.
... except he's still here, for some reason.
He doesn't remember what his room was meant to look like, and if this was the same room he fell asleep in. There's too much crap everywhere. Junk, trash, trinkets, actual garbage, salvageables, the occasional jolly rancher wrapper. Things people care about. Things he's never had. It's like someone lives here, which is pretty much the opposite of his usual decor style. Leave no trace, he used to say.
There's a warmth pressed against his back, and he musters the strength to turn over and look. It's probably the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.
Red's cunching away at grape flavored candy like a dog with a bone, round face illuminated by epic fail videos, he thinks, not sure what else those sounds could be. He finds it in him to speak, which surprises him so much he just groans awkwardly like he forgot how to speak. Red doesn't even look up, but there's a quirk at the side of his mouth like he bet money on that exact noise.
"think you're 'possed to suck on those, pumpkin."
"suck me, howzzat?" Sans can feel things again. Red knowzit, he can feel it, he can tell. They're just synced up like that. He turns over, dropping his phone somewhere amongst the sheets and pillows they're stacked up on. Just to get in a good wholesome cuddle. He wipes the tears that Sans didn't know were flowing, and holds him tighter when he shudders and sobs.
Crying in silence like this reminded him of the last promise he made, the real last one. When Red found him and yelled at him until he was too angry to die. Long enough for Red to talk some sense into him. Make him do the one thing he swore not to do anymore.
Sticking around was easier with someone else to help hold him up, and not expect any more from him than to laugh at the worst jokes. Easiest when Red told him he wanted him, and Sans got to give up his whole self, and take someone else's whole self too. For keeps.