#sans abusing his breaking of the laws of spacetime to make her stay in bed is personally so damn funny to me.

[angelbitezzz]

For the love of god sans give her another shirt (writing under the cut)

Prev - Next - First

Sans was woken from his sleep by a faint tune straining it's way through the floorboards and the soft clatter of something metal. Having a room directly above the kitchen when he had such an enthusiastic brother was the absolute pits sometimes, he thought as he rolled over on his mattress. Blearily, his eyesockets flickered open to regard his room, pupils sliding along until they landed on the blue jacket he'd left on the floor.

"huh. that's not supposed to be there." He thought to himself, eyesockets shutting again for a long moment before he registered the brown-red stain on the fabric. He sat up as the memories snapped back into his skull, the movement disturbing the little white dog sleeping on the end of the mattress. "oh. sorry, pup. at least one of us should get some more sleep."

He scratched at his backside as he stood, pawing sleepily for the hoodie that he'd left on his chair and tugging it on while he walked, opening the door to his room.

Oh.

"Tell her to reap it with a sickle of leather...Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme...And gather it all in a bunch of heather...Then, she'll be a true love of mine..."

That wasn't Papyrus. The unfamiliar song wavered softly through the air as he padded to the landing at the top of the stairs, feet silent. The couch was empty...again. Hell, what was it going to take for that stubborn human to just rest? Did he need to tie her to a bed or something?

huh, actually, scratch that. bad idea.

A little flustered and more than a little frustrated, he descended the stairs. There was a good smell in the air, buttery and rich.

"Are you going to Scarborough Fair?" Angel was trying to be quiet, but seemed to be in something of a good mood. Her voice grew louder as he moved closer. "Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme..."

Sans peeked through the entrance to the kitchen, halting for just a moment to watch. She had one hand in her jean pocket, his borrowed shirt baggy on her torso as she did something at the stove. The blood was still visible, dried now and likely staining the shirt forever. Damn. On the counter next to the stove was a plate piled with what he recognized to be pancakes. They were a darker brown than what he usually saw, but not because they were burnt? He didn't know what she'd done to do that. He stepped forward.

"Remember me to one who lives there..." Angel swayed a little, unaware of the skeleton currently standing just behind her. "She once was a true love of mine."

A heavy hand fell onto her shoulder, making her shriek and nearly jump out of her skin.

"hey there pal. just wanted to remind ya that it's past your bread time."

"SANS!" The human would've been yelling if it weren't for the fact that he'd stolen all of the air from her body. Her hand was clutching her chest. "What the fuck??"

"if you're not vegged out on the couch in the next 2 seconds, i'm gonna go wake up papyrus and let him lecture you."

The human pouted at him and gestured to her current activity, distractedly flipping a pancake.

"Okay, okay...but I'm almost done! Can't I—"

"nope."

"But—"

"no butts in the kitchen. that's unsanitary. what kinda cook are you, anyways?"

Angel deflated a little in disappointment, only for a thought to spark a sudden smile. She turned and grabbed a plate from the counter, then shoved it into his hands. There was a stack of three pancakes, still warm.

"Alright. But here—I already made your portion. And Papyrus's too. I'll just, uh..."

She made a motion like she wasn't sure where to walk, then shut off the stove and flipped the last pancake into the platter on the counter. Sans watched silently as she trudged to the couch and threw herself down on the green fabric like it had personally offended her, but her gaze quickly returned to the kitchen. In her face he could see that she wanted his reaction to her cooking; the eagerness bringing an amused thought of humans being related to dogs and melting his frustration.

Well. Far be it from him to say no to free grub.

He grabbed one—not bothering with a fork—and took a bite. It was warm, thin and crispy with a strong cinnamon taste that wasn't... unpleasant. In fact, it was quite good. He hadn't had anything she'd made before.

"...what's in this?"

"Oh! Well, my mom used to make us cinnamon pancakes when I was a kid. Wanna know the secret?"

"oh yeah? what's that?"

"Cinnamon."

"huh. who'da thunk?"

A pause.

"Is it good enough for me to finish—"

"not a chance."

"Damn it. You can't keep me trapped here, bone boy! I gotta be free!"

"i guess you're right. i mean, it IS a free country, after all. go ahead."

Angel looked at him for a long moment, suspicious of his sudden change in attitude. Slowly, she stood and walked over to the front door, still a little convinced he was going to make her go back to the couch. He watched her go, still chewing his way through his food.

"Okay. I'm leaving. Waaalkin' through the door. Yup."

"see ya."

She opened the door and stepped through, shutting it behind her.

Angel stepped into the house.

"back so soon? i thought you were free."

Confusion bloomed in her face. She looked back at the door and then at Sans.

"Uh. Yeah. Lemme just—"

She tried again.

The door shut behind her as her feet landed on carpet.

"you must really like us if you're not even trying to leave."

She didn't even dignify that with a response. After about 15 tries where she just kept walking back in, she slammed the door shut and properly gave up, huffing her way over to the couch and pulling the blanket over her head.

"well, looks like ya made the right choice after all. hurrah."

His voice sounded right next to the couch, making her peek out from the blankets to find a plate of pancakes being offered by the skeleton. Fresh, judging by the steam rolling slowly off them. Her stomach growled.

"here ya go. shortstack for a shortstack."

"...Thanks."

His left eyelid slid shut in a wink.

"bone appetit, kid."

The pun was enough to make her smile, bringing a foreign warm satisfaction to his ribcage. He chalked it up to getting a proper breakfast after all that nonsense yesterday.

Yeah, definitely that.