Ace in a Hole (Undertale x Hazbin Hotel)

Chapter 29

When Husk and Angel Dust had come together to make a gift basket, Sans had been flattered. Really. A high-end, stuffed, and tall goodies tree with chocolates and beers and anything he could want to get his hands on. Some of the bottles were coated in dust, some of the candy bars had the slightest splatter of blood upon them, but the two had really tried their best. Got some cheap, red glittered bow to complete the look. The type of cheap material you'd find in the dollar section of a gas station, yet was carefully cultivated around the plastic wrap of the plastic in near-pleading, small details.

Which was nice. He knew Angel Dust and Husk didn't have a lot of money, but they put a lot of what they had together in order to get Sans something extremely nice. Which they didn't have to, he had reminded them of. Alas, Sans had saved both of their souls from eternal control through the power of casually asking his husband. So he doubted he was being removed from their christmas list anytime soon.

(Which, Sans had to wonder—didn't Christmas have some biblical background to it for certain religions? Did sinners even celebrate?)

The gift basket was nice. Pleasant, even.

But since Sans was stable enough to walk around for extended periods of time, and wasn't entirely dependent upon Alastor, a trip home was preferable. Paps was, no doubt, downright hysterical with Sans gone.

And Sans rolled up onto the surface with a gift basket bunched up within his short, tiny arms. Half as big as him. Something Sans had to peek out from, to shuffle his legs forward through the portal that took him and Alastor back up. It was damn near humiliating, walking through that portal into Papyrus' living room, gift basket in hand and Alastor behind him.

What met him, in the vast room of Papyrus and Grillby's common space, was a corkboard. Maps drafted upon it, strings connected with careful precision. Several chunky books of demon encyclopedic knowledge grew in mountains on his coffee table, all of it with dust and none of it with truth. And, right smack dab in the middle, huddled together like a rickety band of children ready to solve a town's disappearance, were them. Papyrus. Undyne. Grillby.

Secretly, Sans had been hoping that Papyrus would have left his finger elsewhere. Been at work, or abroad, or at his own home, fruitlessly searching for him. He knew that would never be the case—Papyrus couldn't abandon even a piece of Sans, no matter how trivial the bone was. It was the only connection he had to him; the only connection he had that proved Sans wasn't dusted.

Sans had no chance of a sheepish hug, awkward greeting, or even a peep. Papyrus was up, over, and holding onto him in the span of a second. Breathing heavily, checking every inch of his brother with trembling hands and begging words. If he was okay, alright, safe, sound, healthy, if there was a bullet or not and where the hell did Alastor take him—

Things like that. It was hard to gather everything in the commotion. Papyrus was on Sans, Grillby was tugging them both back, and Undyne threw herself between the supposed victim and abuser. Voices barricaded over one another, desperate to be heard in the cacophony of desperation while Undyne's blue spears summoned. Yet only Undyne's rang loud enough for her words to be tangible.

"You stay away you—you—" Undyne roared, shoulders hunched and damn near feral. Her posture wavered with each attack that landed, as if she was feeling the impact instead. "You demon!"

The chaos continued to blister while Alastor tanked the spear hits, looking near amused the entire time. Maintaining eye contact with Sans until he inevitably sighed and flicked his hand.

The plethora of vibrant blue spears that impaled his body were ripped out instantly. They clattered to the ground, the sound akin to a utensils drawer being emptied and tossed aside.