Transmission, Intermission - [Sans x Reader | Old Version!]

16 - Try a Little Tenderness

Dinner is about as awkward as waving back at someone you think's waving at you, only to then realize they're actually waving at someone else.

Frisk stares at your guest from beginning to end, only looking back to their bowl when they’re done with it. They grab a piece of bread and soak up what little soup remains at the bottom, saying, “You’re not a bad cook.” They pause to take a bite off the bread, the rest of it disappearing in three more. “Is this mom’s way of testing whether you'll be a good boyfriend or not?”

Sans swallows hard, coughing once to recover as he sets his spoon down. “Well, uh… Somethin’ like that, I guess.” He casts a subtle look at you, irises asking for help.

“We’re not dating,” you intervene, scooping up some of the soup. You throw it back into the bowl when your hand begins to shake, too tense to continue eating. “You and your father just so happened to walk in at the wrong moment, making it look like something else.”

Frisk frowns, a bored expression reaching their eyes. “I can tell you’re lying, mom. You’re bad at it.” Their gaze moves back towards Sans, who’s now finished with his bowl and trying to move away from the conversation. “What about you, then? Why’re you chickening out if you still want to date my mom?” They furrow their eyebrows, glaring at the monster. “Why are you-“

“That’s enough, dear.” You stand up, facing down at them. “This isn’t his fau-“

“So it’s yours?” Their voice breaks as they're the one to stand up next, their hands thumping over the table and frown quivering as they attempt not to show weakness. “He… He flirted with you, so that means he’s also responsible for it!”

“I said that’s enough, Frisk (L/N),” you snap, crossing your arms. “I’m okay with talking about this with you, but not during dinner. And even less when we have a guest over.” You plan to pick the dishes up, though the skeleton beats you to it, excusing himself off to the kitchen. “I’m not dating him, and that's final. That only happened ‘cause we were both confused and we kind of like each other. But I refuse to date anyone until you’re all grown up.”

“You’ll be old by then,” they whine, flailing their arms. “Grandmas can’t date!”

“Yes, they can.” You find yourself going along with the ridiculousness of the conversation, too caught up in it to fully assess their words. “And ten more years won’t make me a grandma! I’m still young.”

Paralyzing for a second, Frisk huffs and switches for sign language, saying, “That still doesn’t mean you have to live like this.” They frown, eyes wetting as they sniffle once. “I like seeing you happy… But right now, this just makes me feel like a burden.”

Your anger falls with that last sentence, panic replacing it.

In a haste, you try approaching their side, though they run off to their room just as you’re ready to bring them in for a hug. Their steps are quick and the door shuts with a subtle bang, their composure still showing through. You stay in place as their words replay on your mind over and over, gloom arriving. Dismissing their words is an impossible feat; your mind continues to subject your thoughts into negativity, repentance, and sorrow, restraining you from acting quickly.

If you’d been doing a bad job at raising them all this time, then what had been the point of it all?

Needing a distraction, you head to the kitchen and join Sans by the sink, no words spoken between you.

He washes the dishes while you dry and store them away, keeping up a rhythmic pace until only the pot’s left. Your gaze focuses on his arms, jacket’s sleeves lifted all the way up to his elbows, revealing the oddity of who you were growing attracted to. His shirt's a bit loose by the neck, presenting you with his collarbones as you take a peek under it. You're still adapting to the strangeness of having someone look so similar to a human skeleton, yet so different just the same. He could breathe, laugh, move, talk... and even kiss based on first-hand experience. His face wasn't entirely solid, allowing him to blink, eat, and drink, besides from what you were thinking of whenever you stared at his face and down at his teeth. You tell yourself it’s wrong to be befriending him, and even worse finding any attraction in him. You’re not sure how to take his words from earlier ago, and just what it meant to see him break down like he had.