The chaos Sans had forgotten to clean up (or was too lazy to) made it clear that a battle had taken place there. Papyrus set his gloved hands on his hips and tapped his foot rapidly on the ground.
"SANS? I AM IN NEED OF AN ANSWER."
Sans crossed his fingers in his pockets, hoping for a RESET for once in his miserable life.
And, for once, his wish was granted by none other than the seventh fallen human.
He glanced at Papyrus once last time with his lazy look, keeping the personality Paps was so used to, as darkness swallowed his world up once again.
~~~~~~~~_________~~~~~~~~~
RESET?
* YES *NO
>YES
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sans shot up straight from his mattress and tumbled off, hitting his skull on the wall.
"Ow..."
As he blinked away the last fragments of sleep from his vision, he saw a separate, colourful, cleaner-looking mattress with an equally blinding blanket in the corner where his desk usually was. The piece of old wooden furniture was placed directly next to the door, the treadmill still at the center and the trash tornado running on the sports equipment. Leaning next to the door, and playing with a Hacky Sack, was a familiar 90's neon skeleton with those cool shades.
"Congrats mah radical broski, you now have another brother," Fresh declared while smiling toothily, golden tooth flashing in the morning light.
Sans stared at Fresh intensely.
"Okay," he shrugged, got up, and teleported to Grillby's to ponder on this situation he had gotten himself into.
--------At Grillby's--------
Sans walked into the warm bar, the familiar scent of good greasy food, cider and monsters smothering his clothes. The restaurant was almost empty, apart from the literal early birds.
He slumped on his usual seat at the bar table and let his skull hit the polished surface with a dull 'thud'. He raised a shaking hand and mumbled, "...two bottles of ketchup please. Just put it on my tab."
Grillby, one of Sans's oldest friends, obliged. He disappeared into the kitched and reemerged with two of his signature bottles of ketchup.
As soon as the bottles touched the wooden surface, the floppy skeleton swiped a bottle, lazily lifted his head, and started chugging down the rich substance. Grillby stared at the now half-drunk skeleton.
"I-I know what *hic* you're going to say, Grillbz," he slurred, "we've got a *hic* lot of ketchup-ing to do."
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A/N: the Reset takes them back to before the karaoke scene
YOU ARE READING
Tired
FanfictionThis was my first story. Sans, after a round of particularly draining RESETS, wants to get to the root of the problem. And so, he asks. He gets an answer, but things start to jumble and blend into an incomprehensible mixture of worlds and theories...
