#their gonna go on a walk with the leash hehehehehe

[elizakai]

old dustberry (murderswap-?) scribbles i found :00

[popatochisssp]

Fur a Good Time, Call... 2/15

Series: Undertale, Horrortale Relationship(s): HT!Sans/Reader Chapter Warnings: none 

You work at an animal shelter. You love all your fuzzy buddies and can’t imagine a better job for yourself than looking after cats and dogs all day, even when the work is hard and often gross. What can you say? You’ve got a lot of love to give!

You’re just not quite sure yet how you feel about the new monster who’s been helping out these days, and this riddle wrapped up in an enigma is something you just can’t resist investigating…

AO3 Link

Humerus

You didn’t actually see much of Sans in the days that followed.

His schedule was really more of a non-schedule, something so freeform and seemingly random that if there was a system in place, you certainly couldn’t figure it out.

He did good work whenever he showed up, though, which was a lot more than could be said for some of the other well-meaning volunteers who ended up being more hindrance than help. You figured that whatever leniency your manager gave that let him just sort of come in whenever was probably deserved.

Of course, it was entirely possible that he was around and you were just missing him. You’d been more or less absorbed with your latest pet-project and noticing much of anything around here, even a giant skeleton in slippers, was probably asking too much of your attention span.

On the bright side, you were delighted to say that Buddy was doing great!

A quick buzz and a bath to the new stray had revealed a merle coat and stunning ice-blue eyes that the whole shelter fell in love with almost immediately. With even just a few days of regular meals his scrawny body was starting to fill out, and when his tail got to wagging and he relaxed enough to show off a winning doggy smile it was obvious to everyone that you had a handsome little man on your hands.

So far, though, it seemed that Buddy only had eyes for you.

He was okay around most people; a little shy and nervous, maybe, but he certainly hadn’t bitten or lashed out at anyone. He was just a noticeably more relaxed dog when you were somewhere he could see you.

It wasn’t much of a surprise since you had been there to calm him down that first day—you had a feeling Buddy might show a similar response to Sans—but it was clear that you’d become a safe person to him.

For that reason, it was decided that it was probably in everyone’s best interests if you were the one to handle most of his training and socialization. The bulk of your day-to-day duties was shifted around to other people for the time being and that was that: you’ve been Buddy’s best buddy ever since.

He was currently panting hard beside you, glancing up at you every few steps as if to say, ‘I did good, right?’

“Yes, Buddy, you’re a very good boy.” You gave him a quick scritch along the scruff of his neck—his favorite spot—and opened the door to let him back into the shelter. “Good first walk.”

You’d taken him around the neighborhood the long way, partly exercise and partly a test. Walks were a great way to suss out little things about a dog that were impossible to notice interacting with it just in a kennel, and you found that those details helped you write up the best adoption descriptions possible.

Buddy, for example, loved to sniff everything and had even tracked down a scent all the way to a squirrel dray up a small tree. The one floppy ear of his could be a sign he had some hound-blood in him, which was always better to write than just ‘mutt’ or ‘???’

You’d guess that he also had some feline ancestry of the scaredy-cat variety because as soon as an actual squirrel had popped out and squawked at him, Buddy had hurried away quite suddenly, pulling you along with him. Probably better for a household without other pets so the poor little wuss didn’t get harassed all day long.

“You made it, see?” you cooed, leading him back inside and tweaking his pointed ear. “Gonna get you some water and then you can lay down and catch your breath. Good boy.”

Except…maybe not?

Buddy didn’t seem to want to go back to the dog room and his kennel just yet. Even tired as he seemed to be, he was dragging you down the other hallway and sniffing along the tiled floor with focus.

“What, Buddy? You find a really good smell?” He must’ve because even a gentle tug to his leash didn’t seem to sway him from this new path, just like with the squirrel from earlier. “Okay, guess you’ll show me.”

You could probably spare a couple minutes on a detour and you were more than a bit curious to see where Buddy wanted to go.

Ending up in the laundry room shouldn’t have been much of a surprise. Especially not with a pile of unwashed bedding sitting out right there on the floor.

“Oh, no wonder, that’s a great smell.” A little grin split across your face at your own sarcasm. “Well, it is for you, I guess.”

Buddy did seem pleased by his discovery. His tail was wagging as he enthusiastically nosed through the folds of a tawny brown blanket, nudging it this way and that, and you couldn’t help but smile.

Getting to see a dog that was so scared and hurt barely more than a week ago start to get better; a sweet, silly boy like this having some fun snuffling around in a dirty quilt….

This was why you loved your job.

When Buddy’s tail went still, though, you paused. “What? What is it?”

Obviously, he didn’t answer you so you moved a little closer to the laundry pile, trying to see for yourself. Hiding there in the earth-toned pile, beneath Buddy’s pointing muzzle was a surprising splash of color.

You reached for it and picked it up. Even as Buddy’s tail started to wag again—‘See? Look what I found!’—you tilted your head in confusion.

The thing was…a rock.

Blue-green in color and very rough to the touch, it glinted a little in the light when you turned it in your hand but otherwise seemed to just be a big hunk of stone. Sitting in the dog blankets. Where rocks…usually weren’t?

“What the hell.”

“oh, that’s mine.”

You whirled around and who should be standing there but Sans, huge and looming and having made absolutely no sound with his arrival, like always. You blamed the sudden adrenaline spike for what you blurted out next.

“Shit, you’re quiet, has anyone ever told you that you should wear a bell?”

It seemed like you’d surprised him with that. The upper ridges of his oddly malleable eye-sockets raised up and his red pupil shrunk from its normal size. He stared at you long enough for you to realize what you’d just said and stars above, was ‘rude’ your default setting?!

“God, I’m sorry, that was—”

A snort cut you off, followed by a full-on chuckle.

“a bell?” Sans echoed, his grin seeming to stretch wider across his skull. “heheheheh… no, that’s a new one. not sure i get the appeal.”

You almost started to apologize again before you caught the emphasis. That was a joke! He must not be too offended by your lack of manners if he was joking with you.

You laughed a little instead and watched Sans perk up, his eye-light dilating back to normal.

“maybe it does, uh… ring a little true,” he admitted. “did i scare ya’?”

“Oh…heh, maybe a little….” You looked down to see that Buddy had fully abandoned the blanket and was now vigorously sniffing at Sans’ feet and legs and everything clicked. “Oh! He smelled you! That’s why he dragged me in here.”

“hm?” Sans looked down too and recognition flashed across his face. “oh, hey, pal,” he greeted, bending to scratch at Buddy’s ears. “ya look good.”

So far, Buddy hadn’t really liked it when hands got near his face. He’d let you do it, though—you and apparently Sans, who Buddy was totally fine with while he sniffed the ever-living hell out of Sans’ sleeve.

“you found my rock, huh? good job, i been lookin’ for that.”

Right! You held out the chunk of stone in offering. “Here,” you said. “It was under that blanket, I guess you must’ve dropped it.”

Sans straightened and took the rock back from you. What completely filled your hand settled neatly in his palm and his smile turned a little sheepish. “nah, it was in my pocket. but, uh…” He pinched the bottom of his hoodie, highlighting the pocket that the very dog who now came up to smell it had bitten through on his first day here. “i tried to stitch it and called it good, but i guess not so much.”

The rock had some serious heft to it when you held it. You didn’t doubt that it would test a rushed repair-stitch to the breaking point, but… “Why didn’t you just put it in your other pocket?”

“and squish my ketchup?”

“……what?”

Sans seemed happy to show you. He swapped his rock to the other hand and scooped out…god, what had to be at least two dozen little ketchup packets from his pocket.

“don’t always have a rock,” he told you, as if he were actually explaining something, “but i always got these. they were here first.”

The absurdity of the situation hit you all at once. You were standing in a laundry room, holding a dog who was still smelling everything while a skeleton two heads taller than you was very soberly justifying why a condiment collection had seniority over a rock in regards to pocket-storage.

You thought bursting out laughing was completely appropriate.

“Pfft, what the fuck,” you said through helpless giggles. “Why do you have those? Why do you have either of those things? Oh my god…”

Far from offended, Sans looked delighted by your laughter. “i like ketchup,” he said with an easy shrug, putting the packets away. “as for this…” Sans paused a moment to look at the stone in his hand. He almost seemed to be debating something with himself. “well, i, uh… i’m actually…a little bit of a geologist? so i like rocks.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “What, seriously?”

“yeah. helped out with the CORE a little, back… back Underground.”

The CORE—a technical marvel of geothermal energy production and totally unrivaled by anything manmade so far. According to the news, it had provided heat and light to the trapped monsters even when they had literally nothing else, and top scientists were still studying it trying to replicate its function. It was slow-going research because according to the former monster Queen, everyone who’d built it was dust and gone.

Obviously not entirely true.

“You’re kidding,” you breathed. “That’s amazing.”

Sans just rubbed the back of his neck. “mmm… wore a lotta hats back then. ‘jack of all trades,’ y’know? not into the other technical bits so much anymore, but i still like the geology stuff.” He cracked an awkward smile at you as he added, “it rocks.”

You laughed and watched the tension leave his shoulders. You realize pretty quickly that you may have found the key to befriending Sans that’s been eluding you all this time: he’s volunteered more (completely fascinating) information about himself in the past few minutes than anyone else had learned in weeks, and it all started when you laughed at his jokes.

That certainly wasn’t hard to do. Sans was a funny guy when you actually got him talking and you found yourself really not wanting it to stop.

A glance at Buddy down by your feet and then the clock up on the wall—early afternoon—and you had your idea.

Impulsively and before you could lose the confidence, you say, “Hey, so… I was gonna go get Buddy settled and then head out for lunch. Would you…want to come? The place I usually go to is close by and I’d be happy to treat.”

You’d clearly caught Sans by surprise again. “……really? why?”

You didn’t quite get his confusion but, “Well… I kinda feel like I should get to know you.” You fussed a little with the leash in your hands, trying to spend your nervous energy. “I mean, you’ve been here for how long and I’m only now finding out you’re funny? That’s crazy. Plus I’m going anyway, you don’t have to come if you don’t want to, that’s totally fine, I just thought….” You didn’t know what you thought and you realized you were on the verge of rambling so you let the sentence trail off.

The offer was out there, you’d made the attempt. That was something to be proud of, even if he said no!

“…i dunno,” Sans said eventually and you bit back a sigh of disappointment. “see, i did just lose my apatite.”

“That’s okay, I—…”

The emphasis. You stared at the rock in Sans’ hand, which he helpfully waggled when he caught you looking.

“……is that. Is that actually apatite?”

Sans looked like he was bursting to tell you, grinning with eager anticipation. “yeah.”

“……”

This time when you completely lost it laughing, Sans joined you with a quiet chuckle that had you covering your face and shaking your head.

“Oh my god, did you plan this? Did you set this up somehow, just for that joke?” you demanded.

Sans snorted but shook his head, “nah, happy accident, i swear. probably the happiest accident of my life, though, that was perfect.”

Still smiling, you looked up at him. “So, lunch, then? Yea or nay?”

“hell, i don’t turn down free food. sure. just gotta put this in,” he nudged the laundry pile with his slipper, “and drop my rock off at home where it’s less funny. lobby in fifteen?”

You blinked in surprise. “You live that close?”

Sans made a face and gave you a so-so motion with his hand. “but,” he winked, “i do know a shortcut.”

And then he was gone again, just like before.

Buddy visibly startled, jumping back up from where he’d been sitting (like a good boy!) and whipping his head around to you, like you could somehow explain to this animal that didn’t speak your language all the nuances of an apparently teleport-capable skeleton.

“I don’t know, man,” you told the poor dog, “I’m in the same boat as you. Let’s just get you that water, okay?”

Buddy actually let you lead him all the way to his kennel this time. He lapped up half of the water you put in his bowl and then padded straight over to his cot where he plopped down with a big, dramatic sigh.

“Yeah, yeah, your life is so hard,” you teased, which Buddy seemed utterly indifferent to so you left him where he was and went to go clock out for lunch.

-

True to his word, Sans was waiting for you when you got to the lobby, greeting you with a crooked grin and an awkward wave.

You mentally laughed at yourself for ever having thought this guy was scary when it seemed like everything he did just proved what a total goober he was.

“You ready to go?” you asked him. “Any last minute jokes you want to get out before we leave? Sight-gags? Puns?”

“heheheheheh… jeez, we haven’t even hung out yet and ya already got me pegged.”

“Am I wrong?”

“nope,” he freely told you. “i was tryin’ to think of somethin’ but ya showed up too early. i’ll let ya know if i come up with anything on the way over.”

And with that, the two of you headed out the door into the lovely, sunshiny day.

The weather was great and you made some small talk about that before telling Sans a bit about the place you were going—a little cheap and a little dive-y, but it was close to work and the food was good so you went there pretty much all the time.

Sans nodded and ‘hmm’ed in all the right spots but you got the slight sense that he wasn’t fully paying attention to you. His eye-light kept casting up to the sky; the endless expanse of azure blotted with fluffy white clouds floating past on the breeze.

You couldn’t bring yourself to be offended by Sans’ distraction. Stars only knew how long he’d spent thinking he’d never get to see a sight like that.

His focus immediately switched back to you again once there was a roof over your heads and he watched you peruse the short menu on the wall. “know what you’re getting?”

“Yep. I’ve got a usual,” you told him, “I think I’ll stick with that. You?”

He looked at the menu himself, processing it for a minute before shrugging. “eh. i’m not picky. anything you’d recommend?”

You turned to face him fully, looking him up and down. Feeling unaccountably playful, you asked, “Trust me to order for you?”

He just eyed you, half-puzzled and half-amused. “sure? knock yourself out, i guess.”

Decision made, you went up to the counter and ordered your usual, “And a triple bacon cheeseburger with everything on it, fries for the side.”

You paid and got your order ticket and went back off to the side to wait…where Sans was unabashedly staring at you in awe.

“how did you know?” he asked. “triple isn’t even up there.”

You were probably radiating the smuggest aura right now, but you couldn’t help it. “I told you I come here a lot. The chef is cool, he doesn’t mind throwing an extra patty on there if you ask for it. You’re a pretty big guy, I figured a double might not cut it.”

“and the rest of it?”

“Anybody who carries around as much ketchup as you do is basically guaranteed to be a garbage disposal when it comes to food. No offense,” you added quickly, though you didn’t entirely think Sans would take offense to that. “That, plus you’ve got a pretty big grease stain on your shirt, so….”

Sans looked at the stain and then at you before starting to snicker at himself. “oh my god, you really do got me pegged. you’re not gonna sherlock me the whole time, are ya?”

“I’ll try to refrain,” you offered magnanimously and then sent him off to fill up your drink cups at the machine over on the wall while you stayed to wait for the food.

It didn’t take long for your number to be called and you settled your tray down at a booth Sans had scoped out for you. You found that it was only a little��surreal for you to be at your favorite eatery, sitting across from a skeleton that you happened to work with.

After a few more words of small talk about the food—so good, probably in the Top Five of all the burgs he’s ever had, great pick— you find you’ve gathered enough courage to start the social part of the outing.

“So,” you say lightly, picking at your meal, “the CORE. That’s some pretty groundbreaking stuff.” Sans huffs a tiny laugh at the pun. “I kinda gotta ask why a guy like you is at an animal shelter, of all places.”

“mostly this,” he says, reaching up to knock his knuckles against his skull, right next to the broken part of it. “see, i guess when half your head caves in, that makes it start workin’ different than it used to.”

The candid answer sobers you quickly. “Oh.”

“yeah. takes me a little longer to work stuff out than it used to. i forget things easier. got a fun little issue where i just sorta fall asleep sometimes. i got some human medication for it that helps, but it still happens. i’m sure you’ve noticed it.”

You…have.

In the time Sans has been at the shelter, he’s almost always had a follow-up question on a task he’d been given, or needed another run-through on a procedure he’d already been shown.

You hadn’t seen it yourself, but you’d once heard a couple volunteers chuckling good-naturedly near the coffee pot in the break area and saying they should bring a mug to the stock room for Sans; the poor guy must’ve had a late night if he’d passed out halfway through doing inventory.

“Yeah,” you admit, feeling…very guilty all of a sudden. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. That’s…pretty personal…”

But Sans shakes his head. “nah, don’t be sorry,” he says. “i just like havin’ my cards on the table. i’d be a liability workin’ in some lab with my head the way it is, for sure, but i was outta the science game long before it even happened. it ain’t as tragic as all that.”

“No?”

“nah. i’ve done a bunch of different stuff since then and none of it had anything to do with my degrees.”

You almost asked about that—degrees, plural—but you find yourself more curious about the other jobs he’s tried. He’d called himself a jack of all trades earlier and you wonder just how much that covered.

As it turns out, it covered quite a lot. In between bites of his burger, you get Sans to tell you all about the times he sold concert tickets, rented out a telescope, and ran an illegitimate (?!) hot dog stand.

(You don’t ask what he did during the famine. Even you know it’s a faux pas of the highest order to ask a monster about the famine.)

“i think my favorite was the comedy routine,” Sans says eventually. “had a little time-slot at a fancy resort every other week. that was a lotta fun.”

“I am not even a little surprised you were a comedian,” you say flatly, but with enough of a teasing note in your voice that you see him smile. “Is that something you wanted to get back into?”

“mmm…probably not?” He picks at his ketchup-drenched fries a little. “it’d be nice, maybe, but i dunno if i trust myself to be up on stage for a whole set, these days. nothin’ sadder than live reruns.”

You blurt it without thinking. “The things you take for granite, I guess.”

He’s quiet for just a bit and you worry you may have overstepped there…but a second later he bursts out laughing. The sound is deep and genuine, so much more than his understated little chuckle and you couldn’t have been prouder to be the cause of it.

When he finally looks at you, you swear that the red light of his eye is sparkling. “oh man, good one. hope I remember that, Pap’ll hate it.”

“Pap?”

And you thought you’d found Sans’ conversation button before.

It turned out that jokes were only the second best way to get Sans talking; the best was his brother, Papyrus.

You’d had no idea a skeleton could look so animated until you had Sans smiling, gesturing, practically vibrating with pride across from you as he told you all about his sibling.

Papyrus is the coolest guy ever, athletic and smart and so organized Sans can hardly believe it. He used to be a bit of a chef, but lately he’s had more of a budding (heheh) interest in gardening and their yard looks so colorful now, it’s crazy. He’s also studying to be a nurse and working part-time at one of those big home improvement stores until then.

“we get that money from the human government, y’know,” Sans points out. “we both do, so it’s not like he even has to work? we could coast awhile on what we got and be fine, but Papyrus goes out first thing and picks up a job ‘cause he likes to be productive, and then he starts going to school for an even harder job just ‘cause he wants to help people.” Sans is positively beaming at you. “isn’t my brother cool?”

Well, of course. That should go without saying, but you can’t help but think of Sans, too; how he volunteers at the shelter, spending his unpaid time doing hard, dirty work to help fuzzy people that can’t even thank him.

“It seems like it runs in the family,” you say sincerely.

Like most of the times so far you’ve said something he didn’t expect, Sans needs a couple extra seconds to process it. When he realizes what you said, though, the most curious thing happens.

The light of his eye is a vibrant cherry-red… but the color that spreads impossibly across his cheekbones is a soft gray-blue, like slate or steel.

You can’t help but find it… bizarrely pretty.

“eheheheheh…” His nervous laugh is almost as nice as his normal one, though it does make you want to pat his hand a little and tell him it’s okay. When he immediately changes the subject in the least subtle way possible, you have enough mercy to let him. “so, uh. what about you? what’s your story? why the shelter?”

“Sorry to say I don’t have much of a story. Well,” you amend, “not an interesting one, anyway. I, uh, I’ve always liked animals and I kinda knew from the start that I wanted to work with them, so… it’s pretty much just always been this, for me.” You look down and fiddle with the straw of your empty drink, and laugh, “I’m nothing special, really.”

You immediately wonder if maybe that was a little too self-deprecating. You can feel Sans looking at you and try to decide if you should go for an unsubtle subject change yourself or just wait to see what he says.

You're more than a little relieved when Sans makes the decision for you.

“well……i wouldn’t terrierself up about it. you seem like somebody with a lot of petential.”

Your laugh that time is totally genuine, surprised out of you. You look back up, grinning, and can’t quite resist a pun of your own. “Are you fur real, right now?”

But of course, there’s no out-punning the master. “i’m pawsitive.”

You both dissolved into giggles like you were two middle-school girls instead of the grown (maybe not so) mature adults you were.

-

Eventually you both finished your food and it was time to go. Sans had that load of laundry to finish and you wanted to do some more clicker-training with Buddy—you were sure you could teach him to shake and you weren’t giving that up without a fight!—so you headed out for the short walk back to work.

The trip over is quiet, but companionable and it isn't long into it before you find yourself chasing another crazy impulse.

“So… do you want to exchange numbers?” You feel awkward even asking. It’s maybe only the third or fourth time in your entire life that you’ve been the one to ask for a person’s number, but, “This was fun and I don’t really have anybody at work to go to lunch with. It’d be cool to…keep in touch?”

Sans scratched at his cheek. “guess you’d want me to pay for my own food next time, huh?” He made a show of considering this, which made you snicker. “don’t suppose you’d consider lettin’ me open a tab? i’m good for it, i swear.”

“Why do I doubt that so much?”

“careful, now, these completely accurate judgments of my character are gonna start hurtin’ my feelings.”

You rolled your eyes with obvious amusement, much to Sans’ apparent pleasure.

“i’m kiddin’, i’m kiddin’, that sounds great. i don’t have a lunch-pal, either.”

You go to get out your phone for him to put his number in, but he’s faster—possibly because it looks like he had his in his ketchup-pocket. He hands it to you unlocked, with the messages screen pulled up.

“just text yourself, it’s easier.”

You do, keying in your number and sending a skull emoji to yourself. You felt the answering buzz of your own phone a moment later but paid it no mind, trying to think of a good name to put yourself under in his contacts.

Your actual name would be boring, but you didn’t want to pick something too out there just in case Sans would look at it later and have no idea who you were supposed to be.

It wasn’t long before you got it. You happily typed, ‘Good@Dogs’ next to your number and saved the contact. You’d have to think of something fun to put Sans as later.

This would be good! It had been a long time since you had a work-friend…or really any kind of friend…and it would be nice to have somebody to go to lunch with sometimes, and to send funny memes to. You had a feeling Sans would appreciate memes.

Plus, maybe you could meet up for other stuff outside of work, like if a cool movie came out or something. You might even get to meet the infamous Papyrus at some point!

There were so many good reasons to have Sans’ number and absolutely none of them were that he was a total sweetheart of a skeleton that seemed to get cuter every time you spoke.

You ignore that thought and go to hand Sans’ phone back, only to pause.

In the minute or so since you’d stopped talking, Sans had gotten distracted by the sky again. He was just standing there on the sidewalk, watching the clouds and soaking up a sunbeam with the corners of his eye-sockets crinkled just so.

Sans suddenly looked like the biggest, boniest cat you’d ever seen, lazing in the sunlight on the verge of a nap. It wouldn’t have surprised you one bit if he started purring and it made you feel….

You cleared your throat. “Sans? Your phone.”

“huh?” His focus turned back to you and the phone you held out to him and the moment was gone. “oh yeah, thanks.”

He took his phone back and you were on your way again.

Oh, no. Sans wasn’t cute at all.

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