DystopianTale Asides

The title was too long and that makes me sad

Real title: The one where Sans and Red eat food and come to the conclusion that Sans needs to get his shit together and talk to his brother (but Red says that nicely)

After chapter 17

Usually, when watching shit movies like "The Room", Sans is able to make one liners and jokes at the expense of said movie. That was his thing, his element.

Turns out it's hard to make quick witted jokes like that when you're emotionally exhausted and running on the bare minimum of magic.

So here he was, leaning excessively on Red's shoulder - at least he didn't seem to mind, since his arm was around Sans's shoulders - and just barely keeping his eye sockets open.

For one moment the main character was throwing a water bottle and saying "oh hi mark" and the next moment Sans was gently being shaken awake.

"Mm... wha's going...?" He blearily looked around, the couch he was on (actually, he was laying on top of a certain someone but he needed a few minutes to process that) was a brown colour, and looked as if it'd seen a lot of moving (it was patchy in some places), but was still comfortable to sit on, in that way only old couches could be. There was a low coffee table, made of dark wood, with a few books and remotes on it, but was otherwise barren, and then there was the TV; the credits were rolling on the screen now. Bookshelves sat beside the TV stand, Sans being able to see quite a few history texts there (which.. he should have expected, considering Red's occupation), the floor was hardwood, with a deep red carpet covering it.

Finally, Sans looked away from the furnishings to look at his partner, who looked far more amused than he should have, Sans's cheeks slowly but surely heating up.

"Ya have a nice nap?" Red let out a chuckle, the rumble from his chest only making Sans blush more. God damn it, he usually wasn't a blusher, so why now is he always flushed?! "Ya hungry? I can make supper fer us."

Guilt twisted in Sans's gut; he didn't want Red thinking he needed taking care of, or that he was just using the taller man. "I... no, you don't have to do that. Heh. I can just... you probably have plans so I can go..."

"Sans." Red, held onto Sans, his voice a mix of caring and firm, as he met Sans eyelights, holding his gaze. "Ya don't have ta go, ok? 'M offering 'cause I want ya over. Plus, ya still look like yer running on half a tank of magic, 'n I don't want ya accidentally over doin' it and hurting yerself."

Well, there Sans went again, his face burning up with a blue blush.

"... ok. If you're sure it's not, you know, a hassle?"

"'S not. Promise."

And that's how Sans ended up sitting across from Red, at his dinner table, in his home, eating the best meat pie he's ever had.

So Red was funny, good looking, kind, smart, and he could cook?

Was there anything he couldn't do?

The kitchen itself wasn't huge, with wooden cabinets and a pantry, dark countertops and a well used oven and stove, and there was no wall or island that served as a physical barrier between it and the dinning room. It was more like an invisible line: here's the kitchen, and here's the table, so this must be the dining room. There weren't many photos on the wall, unlike his home and what he has seen of Ink and Error's home. Actually, Sans was sure he'd only seen one photo so far, a small frame on one of the bookshelves in the living room, between sets of books, with a small photo of a younger looking Red and another, taller skeleton with shark teeth and empty sockets. His brother Edge? Sans made a mental note to ask later.

"So. Ok, correct me if 'm wrong, but the riot is next week, right?" Sans looked up from his plate, raising an eyebrow and nodding. "'N yer brother, he's a guard?"

Sans winced. "Yeah... that's what caused our whole... disagreement in the first place."

"So, next week we're gonna be up against the guards, meaning you'll see yer brother..." A look of discomfort crossed Sans's face, his eyelights shrinking and smile becoming tight. "'M not trying to be a dick. But you 'n yer brother need to talk, babe. So... ya get him alone durin' the riot, 'n talk to him. Try 'n convince him to join us during the fight. At the very least ya can explain yerself to 'im, right?"

Sans contemplated the idea - he didn't necessarily want to fight his brother but talking... well he didn't want to do that either after today, but he was old enough to know it needed to be done. Cornering Papyrus during a riot would make sure neither of them could just hang up, like with a phone call, and neither of them could ghost the other like they could if they picked a place to meet. And as much as Sans hated the idea of fighting his brother, a setting like that would make it impossible for Papyrus to avoid the fact that what's going on isn't good.

"You... you may have a good idea there. And if worse comes to worse we can still take him to the camp, he'd be safe there." Red raised an eyebrow. "I don't want to kidnap my bro, I just..."

"Don't want 'im to get hurt. I get it, I get it." Red took a bite of pie, swallowed, then continued. "I'd talk ta Error 'bout it first, just in case ya know?"

"Yeah... I'm sure he'd understand though. I mean, he started this for Ink, and Cross is here for Dream, so..." Sans sighed. At least he hoped Error would understand - Papyrus had been one of the guards to take Ink to the castle, and Sans couldn't really blame him for harbouring negative emotions for the younger monster.

Red reached forward, taking Sans's hand into his own, warmth blooming in his chest. "This'll work Sans. 'M sure of it."

If Red could be optimistic, Sans supposed he could be too.

Later that night, Sans fell asleep on the couch again, but later on, around 3am, he awoke tangled in soft sheets with two bone arms around his waist, Red's breath warm against his neck. If he hadn't been so tired and comfortable, he would have pried Red's arms off of him and shifted away, out of embarrassment.

Instead he dozed off again.

It was the best sleep he'd had in years.