*DISCONTINUED* Can you hear me? [Sans x Reader]

fifteen

*WARNING PLEASE READ! I REPEAT: DO NOT SKIP THIS AND READ IT.*

This chapter contains stronger content than normal. IF you are uncomfortable with VIOLENCE and lots of SWEARING— STOP READING! This chapter will contain mild violence and more swearing then usual. PLEASE don't read the chapter and complain about it because you have been warned. I will post a quick chapter summery at the bottom, should you chose to skip the body of the text, so you won't miss anything crucial. I repeat, do NOT complain about what I wrote should you chose to read. You have the choice to skip to the bottom and to just read the summary, so you can't say I didn't warn you. It isn't as if the chapter is super descriptive towards the violence, I just thought I'd warn you.

There may be more violence towards the end of the story as well, so keep that in mind you young readers.

CONSIDER YOURSELVES WARNED!

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"What are you doing back so soon?" You couldn't help but ask, stepping into the light of the hallway with wide eyes. You shifted your grip on the vase so you could hold it in one hand, and smiled at him. Mitchell glanced up, features hard and eyes full of anger. You were a bit taken aback, and almost took a step away from him. "You should have texted me! I would have made dinner." You continued, refusing to let his attitude affect you. Maybe he just had a tough time at work? He had no reason to be mad at you... at least, not a reason he know of. That didn't explain why he was home so early. You quickly thought about where you'd put the photos from over Christmas, and all your gifts. They were still in your bag. Good. He wouldn't see them unless he dug through your stuff.

Mitchell said nothing, just dropped his suitcases with a heavy thump and brushed past you. He headed for the kitchen, and like a confused puppy you followed. You put the vase down on the nearest table along the way, wondering what in gods name was wrong with him. He looked disheveled, now that you thought about it, with a scruffy shadow beard and hair sticking up this way and that. He was wearing a dress shirt and slacks, but his tie was gone and his socks were mismatched. He was either very tired, or very angry when he got up this morning. Those were your best guesses, at least. He didn't say anything as he stomped through the kitchen, reaching for the cabinet where he kept a bottle or two of whiskey. That didn't bode well.

"Mitchell? Is something wrong?" You asked, twisting your ring on your finger out of habit. You didn't like how he was acting. He was making you nervous. You watched as he grabbed a glass and filled it with ice and whiskey, then downed the whole thing in one gulp. You suddenly wondered if you should leave. You'd just grab your purse and walk out the door. You didn't like it when Mitchell drank. Unlike the monsters, who got happy when they drank, Mitchell only drank when he was mad, and that usually made things worse. You shook your head. One drink wouldn't do much, right? "Please tell me what's wrong. Was there a problem at work? Is that why you're home early?"

"I'd say there's a problem." He growled, swinging his gaze to you. Like a deer in the headlights you locked up, but forced yourself to relax. He tone and gaze was threatening. He wouldn't hurt you... right? "But it sure as hell isn't at work."

"What's wrong then? I'll try to help if I can, but you have to tell me what happened."

"You know what happened. If you want to help you can clean up your act."

Wait. What? "What do you mean?" You said, trying to stay calm. You immediately jumped to the assumption that he found out about you hanging around monsters, but tried to convince yourself that was impossible. How could he have? 

"Don't act all innocent!" He exploded, pointing an accusatory finger at you. "You know what you've done wrong, so drop the act."

"I haven't done anything wrong." You defended yourself. And you hadn't. Not in your opinion anyway. To him, yes. You didn't know what he was accusing you of, so saying anything would just be an omission of guilt. A you realized that he was, in fact, very angry, and you didn't want to deal with him like this. "Look, why don't we talk about this tomorrow? That way you can have a good night's sleep. I'm sure you're tired from the flight and—"