(Sans x Reader) When Two Souls Meet

All's Well That Ends Well

Your Perspective

You and Sans are back at the clearing where the party took place, facing your somewhat sheepish looking group of friends. They had originally been excited to see the two of you—they were probably drowning in the anticipation of how their little "game" had turned out—but with one look at your face, they all became very interested in their feet. And for good reason, you're sure. You wouldn't exactly say that you're enraged with them, but you're definitely more than a little annoyed. They just had to make themselves known at the worst possible moment, didn't they?

"So," you say slowly, taking a moment to look into each and every one of their faces. "Is anyone going to explain what exactly is going on here?"

They all start to look at each other, none of them willing to step up and bear the brunt of your anger.

You glance over at Sans, wondering if he has anything to add. Your heart sinks a little when you see that he's still stuck in Hoodieville, and is as far away from you as he possibly can be. The chain of your handcuffs are taut, and don't so much as rattle as he shifts nervously in place. Oh, the sight of that gleaming chain is enough to make steam come out of your ears.

"And will somebody please get these things off of us?!" you exclaim suddenly, raising your wrist as if to remind them. "My wrist is completely rubbed raw!"

The assembled group of monsters flinch at your tone, and then focus their attention on your little sister. She has an extremely nervous look on her face, so scared of your reaction that she seems to be rooted to her spot in front of Toriel. With a gentle shove from Alphys, though, she scurries towards you, her hands fumbling as she hurriedly removes the keys from her back pocket. She unlocks your handcuffs as quickly as she can, allowing them to fall unceremoniously to the floor. She doesn't even bother to pick them up—as soon as they're off of you, she runs back to stand next to Alphys, apparently craving the relative safety that comes with numbers.

You sigh in relief once the handcuffs are off and gently rub at your wrist, trying to banish the redness that those blasted handcuffs had caused. You glance over at Sans again, to see that he's stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets. He's completely withdrawn, and it just makes you angrier with the assembled monsters.

"Explanation," you growl. "Now."

You stare pointedly at Alphys, thinking that she's probably the most qualified to answer your questions. Frisk may have come up with the idea for the game (this has your sister's randomness written all over it), but something tells you that Alphys was the mastermind behind the concept—you know how much she likes to play match-maker.

"W-well," she stammers. "W-well, you see..."

She sighs, and takes a moment to clean off her glasses. You can almost see the gears turning in her head—she's trying to figure out how best to break the news to you. After nearly a minute of thinking it through, she swallows hard, and pushes her glasses back up her snout.

"I-I—w-we, well..." She stops, sighs, and screws her eyes shut.

"I ship you two, okay?!" she exclaims suddenly. Her eyes fly open again, and they have a manic look to them that you know all too well. "You two are so cute together! The instant I first saw you two interacting with each other, I knew that you would be perfect for each other as a couple! So I... um... kept tabs on the two of you, and started plotting ways to get you two to fall in love with each other."

Plotting, huh? Great choice of words, Alphys.

"Alphys," you start, planning to scold her. But before you can, she cuts you off.