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Chapter Text

Early August, 202x

You let out a groan, your spine aching from being hunched over your table of various mineral samples. Why did you agree to do this? Oh yea. You love this, you love geology and minerals and rocks. That was not sarcasm, by the way. Nothing excites your scientific brain more than the whiff of Kaolinite’s muddy scent or the platy structure of Biotite.
You were a senior at Ebott Technologic University, a Geology major, with a small minor in Paleontology. No biggie. This was your jam, so when Dr B asked you to re-label the mineral samples for the freshman lab courses, you obviously said yes. You would have squealed with excitement if you weren’t so worried about seeming professional and nonchalant.

Well, at least in hindsight, it sounded fun. Now it was 8:37 pm and you were still sorting the magnetite from the hematite. One sparkly rock goes in one bin, one sparkly rock goes in another bin. It gets kinda boring. But at least you have your earbuds!
Your small, pink, Bluetooth earbuds that your mother got you as a birthday gift when you turned 18. You were now 22, and were happily attached to your off-brand rosy earbuds. Even if their battery life was absolute shit now-a-days.
So it was just you and ABBA. In this moment, in this dark mineralogy lab, you were the dancing queen.
In a fit of delight over the nostalgic music, you fought the urge to dance. You didn’t, however, fight the urge to loudly belt out the lyrics to the girly-pop classic.
“You come to look for a king! Anybody could be that guyyyyy~ Night is young and the music's hiiiigh! With a bit of rock music, everything is fine! You're in the mood for a dance and when you get the chanceeee!~” you gripped your pink sparkly pen in one hand, like a microphone. Your eyes squeezed shut, imagining the first time you heard this song as a child.

It was early spring, the winter chill was still in the air. Your mother was driving her large white Toyota minivan. The radio on full blast, you were strapped into your booster seat. Your little legs swung as the song played. You remember thinking ‘I can’t wait to be seventeen too’-

You’re brought from your thoughts by the door to the lab being opened. The movement causes you to freeze in place, your pen still in your hand near your mouth. Oh my god what. This is sooooo embarrassing-
You blink out of your flustered daze to realize, the one who opened the door was a short and fat skeleton in a blue jacket. A lazy grin on his face and white lights for pupils in his dark eye sockets. He wore a lame tee-shirt that read ‘Please don’t make me do things’ along with a picture of Garfield.
You both seemed equally shocked to see each other, there was a minute of silence before you finally broke it.

“...can I help you?” you speak, clearing your throat and setting down your pen amongst the mineral samples on the desk. It takes a moment for the skeleton before you to answer.
“Oh heh, I’m just here for the printer.” the skeleton shrugged, glancing over at the large, still relatively new, printer. It was under a layer of rock samples. Dr B was not a tidy man.
“...why didn’t you try the library?” you cocked your head softly at him.
“It was closed.” He replied, cautiously moving a chunk of gneiss off the top flap of the printer. “Besides, the Geo department is much closer to the Physics hall.” He grinned as if he should win an award for not having to walk all the way across campus. You gave a small laugh at that lazy admission.
“I guess that makes sense…But I thought the Physics hall had its own printer?” Your question made him chuckle.
“The printer there is outta commission. That knuckleheaded professor really needs ta get it fixed.” Then he glanced back at you. “I’m Sans, thanks for letting me use your printer.”
You introduce yourself to him with a soft laugh, gods you were such a gigglebox. Any man who could make you laugh was cool in your books. Like Weird Al or Jack Black. Speaking of which you should really rewatch School Of Rock-

Hey! Focus! Cute skeleton is talking to you!
“It’s really not a problem, it’s not like I personally pay for that thing’s ink.” You shrugged as the printed sheet slid from the machine into the catching tray. “...what are you printing out anyways? Some homework?”
“Nah. Even better.” he grinned, showing off his print.

Oh my god.

It’s horrid.

It’s a meme.

A PHYSICS MEME.

Dwight K Schrute from The Office saying ‘Knowledge is power? False! Power is Joules per second’. His judging face is haunting with the shitty resolution from the printer. He looked all sorts of fucked up, like he got hit by a steamroller all Looney Tunes style.

You fall out of your chair, howling like a hyena as Sans watches with wide eyelights.
“Holy shit, kiddo. You think this is that funny?” He asked incredulously, watching you writhe on the floor in a fit of cackling laughter. You glanced back at him, catching another look at the stupid Dwight meme. It sets you off again.

“Go-gods! That sucks ass!” you wheeze, trying to catch your breath while laying on the cold tile floor. “Why does he look like that!?”
Sans had a smug grin, watching you finally pull yourself together.
“Pretty cool right? I’m gonna hang it up in the Physics hall.” he seemed so proud for making you laugh like that. In his mind, your reaction was fucking adorable. You had a laugh that was much more funny than anyone else’s laugh, and he’s heard a LOT of laughs. Yours was like a witch cackle, as if you were the Wicked Witch Of The West.

That gave him the best idea for a nickname for you.

But first he had to help you to your feet. You were heavier than he was but he had more leverage to pull you up. Physics, baby!
“You okay, Westie?” he asked, patting your back as you caught your breath.
You gave him a pair of thumbs up, your hair a mess in your face. You gave him a pair of thumbs up, your hair a mess in your face.
“Totally peachy.” You grinned, a lopsided and winded smile. Showing off your teeth.
He practically felt his soul be set ablaze beneath his ribcage.

Oh stars above, stars below.

Love at first laugh.

Chapter Text

You finally finally finally compose yourself. Gods that was embarrassing. This guy watched you flounder around on the floor at a MEME! A shitty printed meme!
Gods help you.
“Please put Dwight away, I can’t laugh anymore or I’ll pee my pants.” You tell him, looking away from the meme in his hand. That face will haunt your nightmares. Your new sleep paralysis demon.
“As you wish.” Sans laughed, slipping the printed paper into a manilla folder. Then he makes himself comfortable in the seat next to you. His feet propped up on the desk. Oh my god.
Pink fuzzy slippers.

Who IS THIS GUY!?

You chuckle under your breath, you’re such a giggly gal! You can't resist this!
“Seriously man? Slippers?” you asked with a soft feigned outrage.
“They’re comfy. Why? You jelly?” he retorted, his permanent grin stretched wider.
“No I’m not ‘jelly’ of your slippers, Sans.” you snorted. “Now get 'em off my desk or you’ll knock over my samples.” You poked his slipper-clad foot with your pen.
“So we established what I’m doing here this late, now the question turns to you.” Sans spoke, scratching his mandible with a lazy gesture.
“Dr B asked me to re-label all his minerals for next week’s 1040 labs. The old labels were real beat up and some were incorrect.” You explain, holding a slice of feldspar on your hand. Labradorite to be precise.

“So you’re a TA, doin the doc’s dirty work.” He folded his arms behind his skull, relaxing in his seat. If he leaned back any further, he’d fall right out and onto his coccyx.
“It is a little dirty, but that comes with the territory.” Dirty is correct, your hands are covered in mineral residue. Graphite, mostly. It was exciting to know that the lump of gray that made your hands dirty, was almost a twin to diamonds. The difference was pressure and temperature-

Ah. Sorry. Rock tangent. You sure do love rocks.

“So you’re a geology major, yea?” Sans looked at the labradorite in your hands, his eyelights were a soft glowing white. Like if you put a pillowcase over a lightbulb…
“Yea. It's actually really cool! What's your major?” You ask, putting one of last remaining samples in its new labeled box.
“Oh me?” He chuckled, “I’m a real physics nut if you couldn’t tell. Space, time, all the cool stuff that ‘matters’.”
His grin is infectious, without a second thought you smile amusedly.

God. First the meme, then the slippers, now the puns? You’re definitely going to laugh out a lung and die, like those weasels from Who Framed Roger Rabbit.

“Gneiss joke, wise-guy.” You quipped back. He let out a loud chortle of laughter, slapping his metatarsals against the table.
“Good one, Westie.” He sighed, composing himself.
“Westie?” You questioned, a brow raising.
“You laugh like the Wicked Witch of the West.” He pointed at you, a snort leaving his nasal cavity.
“I do not!” You laugh along with him-

Oh my god.

Your laugh is exactly like a witch.

How did you not notice before now?!?

“Awe c’mon Westie, no need getting all rosy on me. It's nice. Ya got a nice laugh. Honest.” He held up his hand in a ‘Scouts Honor’ sign.
“If you get to give me a nickname, I get to give you one! It's fair!” You exclaim, your hands landing on the desktop like Phoenix Wright from Ace Attorney. You have the urge to yell ‘OBJECTION’ and bring up some bullshitted evidence.

“Fine fine, ya get ta give me a nickname if it’ll make ya feel better.” Sans shook his head softly as he chuckled.
You looked him over. Mulling over all options if befitting nicknames. Would calling him something like ‘skulls’ or ‘bonehead’ be considered rude?
“Stumped?” Sans chuckled, rising from the chair.
“As if! I’m wonderful at naming things. I even named my car.” You protest, finally finishing your mineralogical task of labeling samples.
“What didja name it?” he asked, raising a brow? A bone brow? How does that work? His skull is so flexible…

“I named it Cursebreaker.” You say as you nestle your notebook into your bag.
“Curse-what?” he asked, blinking his sockets in confusion.
“Cursebreaker. That’s the title that they gave Feyre Acheron in A Court Of Thorns and Roses. I read it in my freshman year…My car is pretty badass for a Honda Accord.” you explain, refusing to feel embarrassed for your niche novel knowledge. You refuse to feel bad for reading fae smut! A girl’s gotta have something hot and steamy to read! Especially a girl of your stature. You don’t get many date requests…

That's fine. You’re too busy anyways! You’re neck deep in volcano formation and plate tectonics, you have no time to go on awkward first dates with strangers you met on some dating site.

“...I think my friend Alphys read that.” Sans muttered to himself, wracking his skull, remembering one of the yellow lizard’s rants. “...Is the emo guy the boyfriend? Right?”
He vaguely remembered some fanart of some tall, dark, and handsome douchebag with wings.
“Listen, Slippers, I don’t have the braincells to discuss the relationship betwixt Feyre and Rhysand.” you speak as you glance up at the clock. 9 pm. “...why is it so goddamn late?”
Sans followed your gaze to the clock on the wall. “Heh. Well that's what time does. Never stops. I mean, unless ya time travel.”
You remember the movies ‘Back To The Future’. Great movies, but the time-travel drove you up the goddamn wall.

“I hate time travel.” you speak, causing him to gasp.

“What? Why? It’s totally cool!” Sans spoke, almost passionately. His skeletal hand clasped over his sternum in mock offense.
“I saw ‘The Butterfly Effect’, I do not like time loops or the threat of being ‘erased from existence’ just because Marty McFly decided to kiss his mom or something.” you rubbed your temples, despite enjoying Doctor Who, you honestly had a visceral hatred for time travel.

ESPECIALLY THE MOVIE GROUNDHOG DAY. FUCK YOU BILL MURRAY.

“I mean, I get that. Timeline shit is not something anyone should be messing with.” he spoke, a heavy shrug on his shoulders. “But when time-travel is done correctly, the butterfly effect should not have that big of an impact on your life. Travel between timelines, on the other-hand, is not so simple. Ya get my gist?”
“...dude. You’re a massive nerd. No wonder you’re into physics.” you giggled loudly.
His zygomatic arch turns a faint blue. “Yea yea, I get it.”
“It's kinda cool. We’re both passionate nerds. And hey! If ya need help with Geology homework, let me know. I’d be happy to help tutor ya.” you offer him with a smile, the blue on his skull fading slightly.

“That won't be needed but uh…I’ll letcha know if I’m interested in being lectured about rocks and dirt.” he chuckled, “nerds of a feather, gotta stick together eh?” He held out his fist for a knuckle-bump.
You happily accept. Even with a simple bump, you can feel the magical warmth of his phalanges against your skin. You expected him to be all cold, like regular good ol dead skeletons. You were happily wrong.

You cut your train of thoughts off by glancing back at the clock.

“Ugh. I gotta go home. I have work tomorrow morning.” You shrug your backpack over your shoulders.
“Oh yeesh. Good luck with that.” Sans gave you a fake salute. “Guess I'll catch ya later, Westie.”
“See ya, Slippers.” you gave a tired and lopsided smile, mimicking his fun salute.
You turn your back to leave, and when you glance back over your shoulder, he’s gone. Huh. Teleportation magic? Or maybe invisibility? If you see him again, you’ll have to ask.

Letting out a sigh, you make a trek back to your car.

Deep down, you kinda hope you see him again.

Chapter Text

You stumble out of bed at 5 am, the urge to ‘pour yourself a cup of ambition’ is prevalent. You can’t help but wonder what ambition tastes like… That's a question for another day.
Your shift at the coffee shop starts at 6. Your phone alarm blares Fleetwood Mac at you, unhelpfully. Listening to Stevie Nicks doesn’t help you tug on your jeans faster, you gotta do that little hop to get the pants over your thighs and button them over your belly button. You actually take a few moments to smear some herbal tattoo balm over a handful of your tattoos before throwing on your uniform shirt. You trade your silicone tunnels for a pair of pink glass plugs. Sure you were only 8 gauge, but that’s enough to make you feel kinda bad-ass.

You WERE badass, by all degrees. Even the Miss Piggy tattoo on your thigh was a testimony to your badassery.

Enough playing Dress To Impress, you’ll be late!
You slip on your boots and in a timely fashion, make your way out to your car.

The beginning of your shift is normal. You bake some croissants, you make some coffee, you have your own breakfast in between customers. Your coworker, a tall goth teenager named Patty, helps you arrange the pastry display. Settling the lemon poppyseed muffins on their little cake stand, you hear the bell above the door ring.

You stand up straight, eyes moving towards the door. In came the tallest person, or well skeleton, that you have ever seen. About 7 feet tall, dressed in jeans and an orange vest over a yellow long-sleeved shirt. A red scarf draped around his neck tastefully.
“GOOD MORNING PROCURERS OF COFFEE.” he boomed with a bright grin on his skull.
Patty’s usually stoic face shifted slightly, one more curious. She's a goth girl seeing a real, and living, skeleton for the first time. If you had a nickel for every skeleton you’ve met in the past 24 hours, you’d have two nickels.

Which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice.

Anyways.

Skeleton number two, right in front of you, across the counter.
“Good mornin’.” you gave him a smile, having to crane your neck to look up at him. Wowza. So tall.
“THIS MORNING HAS BEEN VERY GOOD, YES!” the skeleton nods with a grin, the small lights in his sockets tracing over the pastries that you just set out. The icing still gooey and warm.
“Good to hear,” you giggle softly under your breath, “what can I get for you?”
“THE LARGEST AND HOTTEST CHAI LATTE YOU HAVE, AS WELL AS ONE FOR THOSE PUMPKIN MUFFINS. PLEASE AND THANK YOU VERY MUCH, HUMAN.” he nodded politely.
“Nice, nice. Coming right up. We just made these muffins too, so they should still be warm inside.” you speak, pulling a muffin from the pastry case with a pair of tongs and settling it into a small paper to-go bag. Patty has already started on his chai latte, the milk steamer squealing like a broken engine. Your boss really needs to replace that piece of junk of an espresso machine.

You hand the muffin to the skeleton with a grin, he took it gingerly with his phalanges.
“THANK YOU CAFE HUMAN! YOUR WORK ETHIC IS ADMIRABLE! I AM PAPYRUS!” he introduced with a rather cute tilt of his skull, as if a bow in greeting.
In return, you introduce yourself to him. You mimicked his bowing head gesture, your smile never fading. His aura was warm and comforting.
Patty set his chai on the counter, a silent nod in greeting as well. Her usually stoic face was…softer. Was that a blush? Oh my god, your young coworker is TOTALLY CRUSHING ON PAPYRUS! That's sooo adorable!!
You give the goth teen girl a Look, trying to convey your support of her obvious crush. She merely huffed at you, discreetly flipping you off so the customers wouldn’t see her crude gesture.
“I MUST BE OFF! I HAVE TO BRING LUNCH TO MY LAZYBONES BROTHER. YOU TWO HAVE A GOOD DAY!” Papyrus beamed, a wave as he turned on his heel.

You elbow Patty as soon as Papyrus was out of earshot.
“Dude. You are totally adorbs. I didn’t know you had a thing for sweet rays of sunshine like Papyrus.” you tease, helping her clean the stupid stupid espresso machine.
“Shut your damn mouth.” she hissed, her dark brown eyes boring into your soul. She was basically your moody little sister, you genuinely loved her like your own kin. It was nice seeing her like this, she never really liked anyone other than old ladies. Yea she was practically an old lady at heart, talking about knitting and soap operas to every Gertrude and Betty White who walked into the cafe.
“Next time he comes in, you should write your number on his cup like you see in those cute romcoms!” you practically squeal, excited for a chance to wing-man for her.
“As if!” she growled, “Besides! He’s probably got like a line of people waiting for a chance.”
“Push to the front of the line! Be forward! You’re absolutely a catch!” you cheer for her.
“Yea yea, whatever.” she rolled her eyes but you could see a faint smile on her black painted lips. “If it goes wrong, I’m blaming you and I’ll put a dead rat in your car.”
You wince at the imagery, knowing she was probably serious about it. “I get it, I get it.”
You were proud of Patty for beginning to come out of her shell, she needed to get out and try and socialize more anyways. She can’t cling to you like a koala anymore. She needs to be thrown outta the nest and learn to fly on her own!

You have been flying solo for a while now, and you really hope you find a nest of your own sometime.
Maybe with a skeleton of your own.

Oh wait, what?

Are you seriously thinking about Sans right now?
Oh boy. This was gonna be a long day...