When Two Fates Intertwine (Sans x Reader)

Sans' Special

~Sans' Perspective~

"Hi (Y/N), sorry to bother you at such a late hour, but I'm afraid we may have a situation."

Three Grillbies glower at me from across the bar, their typically orange flames tinged red at the edges.

"Grillbz nooooo," I whine, raising the ketchup bottle to my teeth. I take a deep swig, enjoying how it burns on the way down. He gave me the good stuff tonight, even if he's regretting it. "Don't bother her, I'm *hic* ffffffineeee. Also, why are there three of you???"

I point at... uh... one of them with an accusatory finger. His flames make a popping sound. Like popcorn. Hmm, popcorn sounds good right now actually.

"Sans, you're getting ketchup all over yourself."

"Huh????"

I sway in my seat and look down at myself, noting the large splatter of ketchup on what used to be a white shirt.

"Aww man, not another one. Ah well, that's what *hic* washin' machines are for. Washin' stuff. Like shirts. Oh! Do you know–do you know what the difference between me and a washing machine is??? One of us has a normal setting! Get it??? Heheheheheh. It's cause I'm a mess."

My laughter gets hiccup-y all of a sudden, and my eyes burn. I touch my cheeks, and my fingers come away slightly blue.

"Fuuuuuuuck not again," I groan. I collapse on the bar, bottle clinking next to me. "I'm a such a fucking mess Grilbz."

Grillbz sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. He pointedly turns away from me and continues talking to (Y/N).

"No, no, not an emergency per se, but he's had a little too much to drink. I don't think I trust him to get home on his own," he sighs. "Yes, I know it's just down the street. Yes, it's that bad."

"I can get home *hic* just fine," I spit. I sway as I brace my hands against the bar, slowly lifting myself up. The world spins, and I hiss as my skull starts pounding. "This is... nothing. I've been through way, way *hic* worse."

"Sans, sit down," Grillbz says firmly. "Your girlfriend is coming to get you."

He turns away again, nodding to himself on the phone.

"Again, sorry for calling you so late, but he's being a bit... belligerent. He wouldn't let me help him, and I have to attend to the other patrons."

"I said *hic* I gottit."

I struggle to push myself up onto my feet. I can't get anywhere before my hand slips, knocking over several empty ketchup bottles. Whatever is left of the whiskey at the bottom dribbles out all over the bar. I unceremoniously plop back onto my seat, my spine protesting at the sudden jolt.

"Sorry," I mutter. "My bad."

Grillby sighs for what must be the thousandth time tonight.

"See you when you get here. Right," he sighs. He hangs up his phone and stores it under the bar.

I groan and lean my head back, draining whatever's left of my ketchup bottle. I toss it over towards the others, barely catching it before it shatters with a flicker of my magic. It lands unceremoniously on its side in the small pile I've created. I glance at Grillbz, who's taken a seat across from me.

"Can I get another special??" I slur. He's only one Grillbz now, but his flames are dancing way more than usual. Like... I dunno... dancing fire. Or something.

"No Sans, you're cut off."

"Aww c'mon. Can I get like... a beer?"

"No," he says simply. Leaning his head on his fist.