Sans AU One-Shots

Anxiety || secrets.

Pairing: Anxiety Sans x Selective Mute! Reader
Prompt: Sans is suddenly extremely clingy for no apparent reason and he refuses to tell you why. It causes problems. So, fed up and genuinely worried for your friend, you demand answers.
Type: anxiety meets selective mute, plenty of awkwardness, goofiness towards the end, short 'nothing' plot
Length: 2k words
Background: Anxiety Sans is pretty much exactly what you think he is: Sans with crippling anxiety. And he likes coffee, like, a lot. Also I'm fairly certain his anxiety stems from Flowey's runs through the underground back when the flower had the ability to SAVE/RESET/LOAD. (That's all I was really able to find on his lore, sorry guys)
Notes: I've decided that to get through requests, I'm not going to do all the legwork anymore to make them amazing. I'm admittedly getting kinda tired of having to come up with the entire plot, or having to work with a plot that doesn't make any sense, or having to change pretty much everything about the request just for it to have some sort of cohesion, or changing a character's entire personality to make it work or having them make OOC decisions so a plot can happen - and that's barring all the ones I get where it's not a request at all. In case it wasn't clear: telling me 'Hey I want ___ Sans' is not a request. That's just telling me you want to see a character and expecting me to make something amazing out of literally nothing. Same thing with 'Can I have ___ Sans x ___ Reader' - you're not giving me anything to work with. If you want to start there and help me workshop it, that's fine, but there's a reason most requests are either never going to be written or they're put in my backlog until I can find a plot (which may mean they're never written either).
The sheer amount of legwork to make any story - especially good ones - would astound you, and I know you won't necessarily understand this since you're a reader, so just know I'm going to try to get these done with a less critical lens for quality. And if they're generic & cliche af? Well, that's what you wanted.
Requested by the lovely w0lfnEEdle - who this rant^ isn't specifically geared towards.

~-~-~-~

You held up your phone, eyebrow raised in silent question, and Sans nodded shakily. You placed the online pickup order for your sub sandwiches then grabbed your keys to go pick the food up, holding up both hands with fingers spread to tell him you'd be back in 10 minutes, but instead of returning to his room to hide out until you came back, Sans shook his head nervously, biting at his fingertips through the gloves he wore. "Can I...come with?" It took him a solid couple seconds to get the words out, like despite how long you two had been friends, he still hesitated to assume you wanted to spend time with him. You gave a simple nod, and he pointedly ignored your questioning eyebrow raise as he kept his head down.

"You never come with," you muttered, no hint of judgment, only puzzlement.

"I..." He floundered for a minute before shoving his hands in his pockets and shrugging, bouncing his leg as an anxious stim. That had been his answer every time you asked – among other vague nothing responses – and while the other times you let it go knowing his anxiety would spike if you pushed too much, it had been bothering you for weeks. He stuck to your side like gum on the underside of your shoe, and though the two of you had been inseparable for what felt like years, he never braved social situations just to stay at your side. He was braver with you or Papyrus around but that didn't mean he was comfortable going out for even something as simple as sandwiches, yet here he was in the car with you. He'd always been clingy, relying on you for support – which was mostly just your presence, as you were oftentimes completely mute – but this was a new development, and for the life of you, you didn't know what changed.

You parked the car outside the sub shop, unbuckling your seatbelt and flashing a peace sign at Sans – you'd be back in 2 seconds. But he unbuckled his seatbelt too, hand trembling on the car door handle with an anxious smile as he waited to follow your lead. You rose an eyebrow, staying in your seat, and he shifted uneasily in his at your piercing stare. You had mercy on him, glancing away before he had a breakdown as his mind visibly whirled with all the reasons you could be pissed at him – even though you weren't.