Fairytale Complex - [Sans x Reader]

Chapter Twenty One | It's Showtime! (Part 3 of 3 | His POV)

"Should I… Should I give up Frisk's custody?"

"What?"

Having that be the first thing the human asks when arriving at the Judgment Hall surprises him the right amount to make that 'what' come off as a shout. It resonates throughout the echoey room, giving rise to the noise and causing them to flinch and stop walking. At that, Sans sighs and excuses himself; strain arrives in his voice as he corrects himself with, "Why do you think that? Isn't the kid happy with you?"

They avoid his irises and stare at the newly laid-out benches around, these a product of the changes being made to the Underground, and ones they suggest sitting on while they talk.  It's obvious they're stalling for time, so he doesn't speak and only follows them there. One glance at the bitter look in their eyes and the sheer uncertainty of their frown makes him stay that way -- waiting for them to act first. Not even the bright light that seeps into the room is enough to shake them out of their distant gaze. Their steps are soft and slow, barely causing an echo as they walk, vastly different from his own set of footsteps. Being any more cautious and quiet would mean they would disappear out of the room entirely. Were he not walking along with them, their presence would be hard to distinguish from the vast emptiness of the place. Even the benches don't suffice to fill out the space surrounding the Hall.

"I'm not sure anymore," they finally reply, tone as icy as their choice of words. He sits next to them and lays a hand over their knee, one he squeezes tight as a way of comforting them. "Toriel seems like someone better fit for that role, so if she holds the same feelings she had about adopting Frisk as she did the first time, then maybe… That's all for the best?" Their voice trembles, though they continue with, "What do you think, Sans?"

The monster pulls his hand back and lets their question simmer in his thoughts for a while.

"Do ya really wanna know?" he asks, meeting their gaze. 

"...Yes." Their reply is as weak as the light in their eyes.

Again, Sans gives himself some time to think, needing that more than ever now that they hold him up to such a delicate question. He doesn't want to sugarcoat anything, but -- similarly -- he doesn't want to hurt them further than they already appear to be. A happy medium would be the best choice, though he doesn't know what that is, exactly. Truthfully, he was growing biased whenever it came to talking about them; he was besotted, no doubt, and -- if matters kept on this way -- he had to scold himself for letting his feelings conflict with his job. Seeing them blue was the last thing he wanted, but some things are easier said than done. If they required an honest answer, he had to deliver it. Masking faults wouldn't do any good, in the long run.

"I think you're a pretty wonderful parent. It's the overthinking and overprotective part that you've gotta work more on. Other than that, then you should take that promise you made seriously, so that you can improve and find more strength to avoid those doubts." His hands make their way to their waist as he brings them closer to him. He then sits them on his lap, smiles, and leans in, looking up with that same, yearning visage afterwards. "...And someone easy to love, despite that stuff." His desire to kiss them grows stronger by the second, yet he's aware it's best not to try that currently -- not now, of all times. The human was still healing; his wants could wait for their needs. "I like being around you -- with you. And while I know Tori's a good mother, you're a good parent, too. You deserve to keep being Frisk's parent, just as they deserve having a parent like you."

By all means, this has to be the riskiest move he's pulled so far, and with awful timing, too. He overlooked plenty of factors before placing them on his lap, and -- now -- he's beginning to consider if that's the best thing he could've done. Their hands have difficulty finding a safe area to land on without making him tense up, and the same goes for their sitting position, this one just as stiff as they try to get comfortable without doing the opposite to him. Still, they stay firm in place and smile back, something that doesn't last long when they say, "I've made too many mistakes, and I've... I've bothered way too many people. I can't even feel mad about arguing with Brenda without then feeling guilty seconds later, k- knowing she did so much to pull me out of that bog. I don't deserve to be forgiven." Their hands press against his chest and grab tight onto his shirt, squeezing at the fabric to tug him closer against them. "It's not right."