Sweet Nightmares (Undertale Fanfic) (2°nd edition)

Chapter 9: Just temporal

Sans: Ok, I'm going to Grillby's, if I take too long, y'know where to find me.

Sans closes the door, he was already gone

Papyrus: Where in the world will I find you?

The snow has falling peacefully. Sans got to Grillby's, a famous place because it usually makes you forget what happened last night, have stronger thoughts, both or confess your sins. The best place to have a perfect good time. He opens the door.

Sans: Knock, Knock!

Grillby: Sans!

Sans: You where supposed to say "who is there? " but anyways, 'sup Grillby.

Grillby: Sigh . . . nothing new. Ketchup?

Sans: You know that's what I'm here for.

Grillby: Here you go, how about you?

Sans: I'm really confused about these stuff.

Grillby: About what?

Sans: Y'know, what happened to me. Since yesterday I don't feel pretty good.

Grillby: There is nothing else to know about it, you where slept for 3 days, somehow, and then you came back.

Sans: Yea I know but something feels wrong.

Grillby: Those things might by temporary, you're a little lost.

Sans: Hm . . . maybe you're right, maybe these things are just temporal.

Grillby: You know? I was thinking about making a karaoke night.

Sans: It's not a bad idea but don't ever think I'm gonna be part of that, except if the guys make me, in that case I'll ask for mare ketchup.

Grillby: Even if you try you're not gonna be worse than Jerry.

Sans: Welp, I'm going back with the guys, they were a bit stressed about me.

Grillby: See ya'. You still need to pay me some things back!

Sans: Em . . . I'm a little short of money, put it on Frisk's account.

Sans goes away, it stopped snowing. It seems it was a normal day, inside the house Papyrus cheers up himself in front of the mirror,

Frisk . . . . Frisk wasn't actually doing anything, she was sitting in the couch hugging the blanket. As Sans closed the door and make a sharp sound, Papyrus' and Frisk's looks where sanding on him. He felt that looks crawling at his back. Trying to escape out of that awkward situation, which lasted two seconds, Sans sat with Frisk in the couch.

Sans: You know? Tonight, is Grillby's, there is going to be karaoke show.

Frisk: Really?

Papyrus: Oh yes!. The great Papyrus needs to show his singing skills.

Sans: I thought you weren't gonna like the idea but I'll go, if that makes you happy.

Frisk: W-Well . . . I don't think I-I am enough good to sing in a karaoke.

Sans: You don't need to be good for these kind of things. You just let yourself sing with the music.

Papyrus: And I, Papyrus, can join you if you are afraid.

Two hours later . . .

Frisk: Ok, I'm ready!

She just dress up herself with a blue dress, it seemed Papyrus liked it.

Papyrus: Frisk! What a beautiful dress you chosen.

Sans: H-H . . . . .r-r-really . . .( f*ck, she's adorable, Sans, say something!) u-uh . . . y-you look . . . hm . . . .

Papyrus: You look adorable!

Sans: Yea, yea, you look . . . . Pretty . . . . adorable, he he . . .(Sans, what did you just do! Do something to fix this mess) It's funny, you actually don't look adorable . . . 'cuz you are adorable.

Frisk: Sans, no need to say pretty love words-

Sans: OK, LET'S GO! NOW, NOW, NOW.

It was a little cold, I'm jealous they live next to a bar. As Papyrus and Frisk saw the karaoke machine, they took the microphones.

Sans: Hey, Grillby, I don't want to ruin their fun, give me a 'lil alcohol, please.

Grillby: Watch out with these things, you never know, by the way, why do you ask now.

Sans: Long story.

He drinks it.

Frisk: Sans! It's your turn.

Sans: Welp, I better go.

A few songs later, which they were mostly love songs dedicated to Frisk, but she wasn't paying attention to the lyrics.

Papyrus: Well, that was fun, don't you think it's time to go home?

Frisk: Yep.

They go out, it was colder than ever.

Frisk: Uff, it's really cold out here.

A cold but soft hang goes behind her.

Sans: Here, I don't want'ya to get sick either.

He was offering his jacket by already surrounding and trapping her into the blue jacket.

Frisk: Oh, Sans . . ., thank you.

Sans: No need to mention.