The Only One Like Me: Remastered Edition (Sans x Reader)

Chapter Two: Meanwhile, Underground

Deep under the surface, in the creatively named Underground, all seemed calm. The air was only brisk instead of chilly, the world was still, and the only things breaking the silence were the sizzling from the cooking of a hopefully edible breakfast and the snoring from a skeleton, who turned in his bed and pulled the covers over him just a little more.

Yes, all was quiet and good. Peace was with the skeleton, dozing those few extra minutes away.

That is, until a yell from downstairs shook the walls, fracturing the drywall just a little more.

"SAAAAAAAAAANS!!!!!"

The skeleton snorted, blearily squinting awake from his dreamless sleep. It took a moment for him to process his existence—a very long, contemplative moment—before he groaned, pushing under him to raise his body into a sitting position.

"yeah, paps?" he croaked, wincing as he barely managed a squeak from his throat. He coughed, hacking out that morning mucus, then tried again, a little louder: "yeah, paps?"

More cheerfully, the voice from downstairs called back. "GET YOUR LAZY BONES OUT OF BED! BREAKFAST IS READY!"

The skeleton, one Sans by name, held back a cringe. Get out of bed? The mere thought of it was daunting. So instead, he focused on rubbing his eye sockets. It was a very rhythmic motion, enough to bring back the peace of the unattainable perfect morning, one that he hadn't had since Papyrus—the source of that surprisingly booming voice—was little.

He craved a perfect morning. Maybe more than actually seeing the sun.

"coming, paps," he mumbled, to himself more than anyone. It was a reminder of just who he needed to be awake for, instead of caving to the constant desire to curl into his bed and never, ever leave. Him and Frisk were his main reasons for being here. They were why he bothered to even try.

Otherwise? He would be hopeless.

A yawn stretched out his jaw, and his arms reached skyward to do the same for his shoulders. Two satisfying pops followed. With a sigh, he dropped his arms to the duvet.

He could say...heh...that they fell...

Like dead weight.

Sans snickered to himself. Ah, the humble pun. Always ready to comfort him in his time of need. Or serve as a coping and defense mechanism when he was too emotionally overwhelmed to deal with life.

But in any case, that pun gave him just enough enthusiasm to heave himself out of bed, shove his boney hands through his jacket sleeves—letting the fur fluff up on the hood, to his mild amusement—and toe on his slippers. Then, with a passing glance at his room tornado and the general mess he had no motivation to clean, he slunk out. Typically, he would have used teleportation, but his energy just felt lower than usual today, so he actually walked. His steps were silent on the stairs, avoiding every creak in the bowing wood, and then he was on the ground floor.

The smell was more discernible now, somewhat burnt but still consumable, or so Sans assumed. Another rub at his sockets cleared his mind a little more, enough to get him to speak.

"hey."

His tall brother poked his head out of the kitchen doorway to see him, smiling as though all was well in the world.

"SANS!" Papyrus exclaimed, beaming toothily (really, the only way he could). "YOU'RE DOWNSTAIRS! YOU NEVER USUALLY COME THE FIRST TIME I CALL!"