Chapter Text
A tugging in his soul is what dragged Sans from his lethargic thoughts and trance-like walk.
He blinked slowly, his left eye faintly glowing a haunting red as he tilted his head to observe his current surroundings as he shuffled to a stop on the sidewalk. He was vaguely confused about the lack of snow, furrowing his brow as he racked his mind for something he may have forgotten. The sight of a nearby park and apartments didn't match up to Snowdin and he didn't recall wandering into another section of the Underground. He tapped his skull nervously, peering up at the sky: it was dark outside, pairing with the pumpkin orange moon to remind him that it was nighttime on the Surface.
Yes... That's right. Monsters were on the Surface now, weren't they?
The memories of being freed several years ago came rushing back to him and he sighed in relief, yet he couldn't help but wonder why wasn't he at home with Papyrus?
Sans had to admit, he often forgot minuscule things thanks to the gaping hole in his head, which lead to... Unusual behaviors, but waking up to find himself prowling around at night? That was new, even for him. Was he falling into the habit of patrolling for food, like he did Underground? It was unnecessary, as the Queen - the real Queen, not Undick - ensured that monsters were never without food due to their previous living conditions.
why the hell am i out here?
The sensation in his soul became stronger, practically jerking it and making his eye snap down to stare at his chest as a frown tugged at his ever-present grin. His eye darted around, searching for a threat that may have been messing with his soul before the feeling became too much and he began moving forward. The relief was almost instant, the yanking dying back down to a gentle tug that was leading him along by a metaphorical chain.
A million questions were flying through his head and his fingers twitched with the urge to lash out in annoyance.
Following the feeling, Sans crossed the street and walked into the wooded park while a sense of dread began building in his gut. If he could, he would throw up from how nauseating these sudden things occurring inside of him were. It felt as though someone had set his bones ablaze and his soul rattled in his chest as he entered deeper into the park, unsettling him completely.
He had an inkling as to what was happening, but it was trapped in the fuzzy recesses of the constantly pounding headache his broken skull tormented him with. All he knew was that he felt like he was going to die if he didn't make it to where his soul was taking him. He felt euphoric, crazed, delighted, agitated and sick all at the same time.
It was a cocktail of emotions he wasn't used to and there was no logical explanation why. Why was he here, surrounded by trees on a small, winding path in the park in the middle of the night?
hell if i know.
That was, of course, until he stumbled across a lone human.
The sight of you made him stop dead in his tracks, ducking behind a tree before you could notice him. His soul throbbed and the pulling stopped, only to be replaced by a buzzing that made his bones tremble with a grand realization. The world seem to slow to a halt and he couldn't tear his focus away, but the dread remained in his non-existent gut as he stared at you from behind the tree.
Bony fingers hooked into his empty eye socket, anxiously tracing the rim as he drank in the sight of you.
it's them it's them it's them...
The whispers in his head made him want to scratch the inside of his skull to get rid of the sudden vibration of longing that rattled around inside of him. He knew then and there what was happening to him as the answer finally flew from the haze and into the forefront of his mind in an unusual moment of clarity. Clarity brought to him by his never-ending migraine dulling into a mild throb.
you've got to be kidding me.
After all of this time? So many years in hell, wondering when "fate" would slap him with another mouth to feed? Another burden to carry? He thought - prayed - that you didn't exist. Now you're here all of a sudden?! You, his soul-
A shaking sob derailed Sans' train of thought.
You sat on a wrought-iron bench that overlooked a pond, hunkered over and sniffling in a way that set off his predator instincts as he recalled the humans he would butcher- no. You were shivering pathetically the way the humans would when lost in the snow, ready to be fed to Papyrus- He had to shake his head free of such thoughts, firmly reminding himself that humans were no longer food for monsters.
You weren't food.
Instead, he forced himself to soak in your appearance, his crimson eye roving over you critically. You were clad in a black cocktail dress that, while it covered your arms with long sleeves, it left your back exposed to the chilly air. A pair of black high heels were carelessly kicked off on the ground in front of you and you clutched a small purse in your hands like it was your lifeline. Putting these and the stylish updo your hair was placed in, he could gather that you had come from some fancy-schmancy event.
Sans didn't care about that, finding himself unable to look away from your bare skin as you whimpered and hugged yourself to keep warm. His teeth gnashed together, his soul churning when he could make out the details of the bones beneath your skin too easily, alerting to him that you were too thin. You clearly didn't eat enough to satisfy him.
that won't do.
Not at all. No, that would have to be fixed.
He tugged the fingers in his eye socket downward, reminding himself that the two of you hadn't even met yet. Then there was the question if you even understood the concept of soulmates-
Sans shivered.
Soulmates.
The tugging, the buzzing, the flurry of emotions... It had to be that: his mind wasn't so far gone that he couldn't remember basic facts about the soul and soulmates were a concept long since proven and documented before his time. If a soul's other half was close enough, they would connect and bring their owners together for a match "made in heaven", as the saying goes.
You were obviously in distress and close enough to him that your soul must have reached out for him in desperation. For comfort. For its match. For him.
And like a good soulmate, he came along.
He leaned forward, digging his free hand in the bark of the tree as he planned out his approach. It was obvious that he wouldn't be able to walk up to you and strike up a conversation: a walking, talking skeleton would scare the crap out of you, even if you weren't bawling your eyes out. The last thing he needed was to chase you down and make matters worse before they could be introduced. He'd have to be careful in how he started the interaction.
Sans didn't get far in his thoughts before his attention was drawn by someone stumbling down the path, drunkenly calling out insults. He watched you straighten immediately, your cries stopping as your entire body became as stiff as a board. From this, he gathered that whoever it was, they were calling for you and decided to step around the tree to avoid being seen by whomever it was.
He'd observe for now, gathering information to help him decide on an appropriate way to approach you.
It wasn't a long wait either, as the newcomer stumbled his way down the path from the same directions Sans had come from. Said skeleton narrowed his eyes when he saw it was a human male heading toward you, dressed in a jeans and a simple button up while loosely holding a bottle of beer in his hand. His free hand clawed into the bark and the fingers in his eye socket jerked down again, grounding himself before he could lunge in to attack.
The pit of dread that was wrapped around the base of his spine only got stronger when he saw him.
The man seemed to have finally spotted you, quickly making his way over as he started to shout. "Hey! Where t-" He stopped abruptly after he ran straight into the back of the bench. "Where the fuck di- did you go?!"
His tone of voice instantly set Sans on guard and he began to drum his fingers on the tree in agitation.
Tap-tap-tap-tap.
You mumbled something he couldn't quite hear, refusing to look at the man as you remained stiffly staring at the pond. This seemed to spur more yelling. "Fuh... First you ditch me at the bar, now you're being a f-fucking cocktease?"
Tap-tap-tap-tap.
Sans swiftly moved to a closer tree, the rapid tapping of his fingers picking up where he left off. His pupil was nothing more than a tiny dot by this point, his soul hissing and snarling in his chest that the man was a threat to his soulmate. His ribs rattled ominously, forcing him to duck back when the man looked around for the sound, but he was quickly forgotten.
Tap-tap-tap-tap.
"Y... You're not- not interested?" The slurred exclamation from the man made you shrink on the bench, along with the beer bottle dropping noisily to the ground.
Tap-tap-tap-tap.
A hand grabbed your hair, jerking your head back and you cried out in pain when the other came up and struck your face.
Everything screeched to a halt and Sans' drumming stopped immediately, freezing him in place as the gut-wrenching dread-dread-dread was sending him in a bloodthirsty frenzy.
You jerked forward, ripping yourself free despite the fact the man still had a clump of hair clutched in his fist that had now torn free of your scalp. A series of fresh sobs escaped your throat as you curled in on yourself defensively, your arms thrown protectively over your head. The drunk began to yell, the sound cutting through the night like a knife that only served to further drive a nail in his coffin.
The pain and insults thrown at you made your soul send out a wave of misery that slammed into his own like a freight train.
Without realizing, Sans broke off a chunk of the bark, pushing away from the tree as the flare of white hot, mind-numbing rage made him surge forward silently. He quivered, a low growl building at the base of his ribs as he stalked forward with intentions to kill-kill-kill. Your soul was crying out for help?
Well, pumpkin, he was gonna help.
"You stupid fat cunt! When will you luuuuh... Learn to just shut up!"
... fat?
Now that he stood behind the rambling drunk, he could see your trembling form in greater detail and he could see each vertebrae of your spine pressing against your taught skin in perfect detail. You were so small: so thin. So frail. Something he knew was wrong for humans. No, you were too skinny- far too skinny.
You- were you starving? You had to be starving! His soulmate was starving!
The thought frazzled his already rattled soul and he found himself staring dumbly in shock. He knew you were skinny at a distance but up close it was so much worse.
"God, I can't even stand to look at your fat ass!" The man slurred, jabbing your back harshly with a finger.
"P-please stop!" Your frail voice shuddered out and there was a resounding click in Sans' mind.
it's all this creep's fault !
However, just before his hands reached out to throttle the man's neck, you sat up and turned around to tell the him off when your eyes landed on him.
The skeleton looming behind your tormentor.
fuck.
Quickly shoving his half-raised hands in his pockets, he clamped his left eye shut to avoid scaring you further with its red glow and Sans felt his grin strain to look casual as the human male whipped around to see what you were gaping at. Immediately a slew of curses were thrown out in surprise and he flailed backwards in an attempt to get away from the monster that had snuck up behind him. Sans, however, remained rooted where he was, tilting his head to help him keep open eye on you and the threat that was still in arm's reach of you, caught between his instinct to kill and his soul telling him to not scare the shit out of you.
The red coloring your face and glistening streaks of mascara-tainted tears made it really hard to not lunge for his throat.
one wrong move and he's dead.
The silence that fell over the three of you could have been cut with a knife, so Sans decided to speak up first. "heya."
"W-what the fuck?" was the friendly response.
Sans ignored it, his eye pointedly staring at the clump of hair still clutched in the man's hand, but he addressed you. "this guy bugging ya?"
He knew the answer and from the look on your face, you gathered he saw what happened. Though the moment you opened your mouth to respond, the man cut in. "It's none of your business. Fuck off, you freak!"
"i wasn't asking you."
"You were asking my girlfriend-"
You were quick to shoot that down with a slight slur of your own. "I'm not your girlfriend!"
Oh that pleased Sans to no end. If you had been dating this human, he would have snapped then and there to break him and-
"Wuh... Whatever. Stay out of o-our business or I'll wipe that stup... Stupid grin off your face."
please try. please oh please.
Instead of encouraging the human to attack, he simply continued to grin while awkwardly keeping his eye in a wink as he motioned to the hair. "look. you're being a bit of a handful."
You let out a hiccuping laugh that was partly incredulous.
oh fuck that was cute.
The guy didn't get the joke but threw the hair down anyways. "I d-don't know who you think- think you are-"
At the end of his patience, Sans snapped his left eye open, resisting the urge to flinch when you squeaked in surprise. "s c r a m ."
The drop in his voice paired with his crimson eye must have been the straw that broke the camel's back: the man stammered briefly and turned around, scrambling down the path as fast as his drunken legs could take him. The short skeleton had to take a deep breath to avoid taking off after him to play a twisted game of cat and mouse, subtly tracing a finger along the rim of his empty eye to help ground him in the moment. This certainly hadn't turned out the way he had hoped it would: you were probably ready to call the police at this point and he sure as hell wouldn't blame you.
"I..." Your voice was soft and he turned his head to see you clutching the back of the bench nervously as you swayed slightly. "Thank you..."
...oh.
You were actually thanking him? Rather than running in the opposite direction?
He tipped his head towards you politely. "my pleasure. mind if i sit?"
You slowly shook your head, motioning to the empty space beside you and very obviously watching him from the corner of your eyes as he walked around the bench and sat to your left. He was shaking with anxiety from being in close proximity to you, afraid that you'll run the moment you process the fact he was a monster, but at the same time... His soul was thrumming happily from being next to you, a sense of peace enveloping him as he turned his gaze towards you, memorizing your features.
He hadn't felt so calm in years.
Then again... He felt so anxious. You were here. In arms reach. So close when he had come to accept that you didn't exist: that he would be alone forever. Sure he had Papyrus, but... Well, would Papyrus ever really understand him completely? You were made to be his match. You... You were so pretty, all dolled up the way you were and making a point to be polite to him even though he found you at what would probably be considered "your worst": crying, abused and apparently quite tipsy yourself. And sure, you were underweight, but he could help you with that. Despite your faults, you were made to be perfect for him.
That was a lot of pressure for him to not fuck it up.
You turned back around to sit properly, nearly falling off the bench with your uncoordinated movements and he almost lurched over to steady you. Luckily, you caught yourself and began to once again fumbling with your purse. "I'm... Sorry... You had to deal with that."
Were you seriously apologizing for what happened? He should be begging you for forgiveness for not preventing it from happening. Five minutes within finding you and he's already allowed you to get slapped around by some grimy human. Just the mere thought of him made Sans want to stop what he was doing to go hunt the bastard down, but he didn't want to leave you alone and vulnerable at the same time. It was an internal struggle that nearly made him dizzy from how fast he shifted between wanting to stay and wanting to hunt.
Sans gripped his knees to hide the fact his hands were shaking. "... 's not your fault." Choosing his next words carefully, he added, "lots of creeps roam at night."
said the creep roaming at night.
He ignored his thought as drummed his fingers on his knee.
Clk-clk-clk-clk.
You snorted in an undignified manner. "Creepy ex-boyfriends. Honestly, went on one date and the guy thinks he owns me."
Clk-clk-clk-clk.
A bloom of nervous sweat dotted his forehead: he hasn't even gone on a date with you and thought he owned you. In his defense, the two of you were soulmates but how did he know if you knew that or not? He didn't want to piss you off before making it to the first date! Does this mean he shouldn't mention the soulmate thing? What if you knew and were waiting for him to speak up? Was that how this should play out? How could one lousy statement send him into a total state of panic?!
Clk-clk-clk-clk.
Not only that...
It was clear that you were relaxing more than you should with a stranger sitting less than a foot away from you! Sure, he was your soulmate, but what if it wasn't him? What if it was some other guy like the grease stain he ran off? Would you be trusting with someone else? That nearly threw him into a fit of hyperventilation while you were digging in your purse for your cellphone to use as a mirror. How the hell were you so calm when he was the emotional equivalent of a train wreck? You had all but stopped crying at this point, scrubbing the dried mascara off your cheeks without paying too much mind to the skeleton next to you.
do you even feel the connection?
Clk-clk-clk-clk.
The moment Sans thought that, you turned your head to look him dead in the eye and he had an internal panic attack. Surely you couldn't read minds!?
His melt down was short lived when you asked, "Be honest. Is it bad?" He was confused for a moment, until you tilted your head and lifted your fingers towards your scalp. "I don't have a bald spot now, do I?"
Your request, essentially, forced him to stop tapping his fingers and turn his body to face you fully. At the same time, you had scooted closer by a couple inches and was holding most of your hair back while you gestured to a spot on the left side of your scalp. Slowly, to avoid spooking you, Sans looked your head over and found a small, patch of irritated skin where a clump of hair was missing, but it was otherwise unnoticeable.
Knowing better than to outright tell you that you had a bald spot, Sans lied. "nah."
You sighed in relief, slumping into the bench more. "So, what's your deal?"
He froze up, jerking his body so that he was facing forward again as he tried to work out just what you were asking, exactly.
You noticed and tried again. "You just wander around, scaring off drunks at night and rescuing damsels in distress or what?"
oh.
That was a relatively safe question, though he wasn't about to tell you that he was dragged here by his soul to find you specifically. Instead, he shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets. "... couldn't sleep, so i went for a walk."
not a complete lie, i guess.
You hummed slightly and he dared to return the question, though he was unsure of your response. "and you? i doubt you're dressed up for nothing."
"I was barhopping with some friends." You admitted with a small hiccup that made your body jump and his soul stutter.
fuck-fuck-fuck. why is that cute?
He tactfully didn't say that out loud. "where's your friends?"
You furrowed your brow thoughtfully as though you couldn't quite remember. "I think... I saw Micah at the bar and ditched them." you mumbled sourly, rubbing your head tenderly. "Didn't want him to spot me... Lot of good that did me."
micah. micah-micah-micah. Sans chanted the name in his head, storing it away for a later time.
He withdrew his phone from his pocket and noted that it was past three a.m. Plans already begun to filter through his mind, all of which were centered around gathering as much information on you as possible while getting you home safe and sound. You weren't quite drunk off your ass, but it was obviously that you were teetering on that edge as your torso swayed in a small, rotating circle. He still wasn't really sure if you realized that he was a walking, talking skeleton or if you were plastered just enough to not be able to tell what was what and who was who. Maybe you genuinely didn't care if he was a monster or not?
It would be just his luck to have a soulmate that hated monsters.
While he was lost in thought, you had turned to face him more, folding your arm on the back on the bench and laying your head on it with a slight pout on your lips. In fact, had he been paying attention, he would have noticed the way you pressed your free hand against your chest as though to calm your heart. Just before he glanced over at you, you dropped your hand to trace the groove in the iron, though you were still staring at him with a pout.
The moment Sans noticed you watching him, his gaze was drawn to the angry, red hand print on your right cheek and his entire body became tense. The rage was beginning to engulf him all over again and he was in the process of standing up to kill-kill-kill that human for daring to touch his soulmate when your voice made him stop short.
"Are you local?"
He leaned back on the bench, rooting himself in place, albeit stiffly. "i live with my bro in belladonna meadows."
Belladonna Meadows being a relatively new series of apartment complexes just a few blocks away from the park. Just close enough for her soul to call out to his... It was absurdly lucky that he was even in range and his mind was already calculating the chances of that even happening. A ballpark guess? not likely.
Sans tapped the side of his skull roughly to remind himself to stay grounded in the conversation you were having. "do you live nearby?"
"Mmm... Sorta." You deflected, vaguely answering his question and shot back your own. "What's your name?"
smart girl.
"sans. sans the skeleton." His eye locked onto you briefly before he forced himself to look away to avoid making you uncomfortable. "yours?"
"___." You stuck out your hand and he found himself watching as it unsteadily bobbed up and down. "What? Don't you know how to greet a new pal?"
Your words made him freeze as memories from long ago came screaming into the forefront of his skull. Memories from when his skull was still intact. Memories of happier times Underground. Memories of when his friends were still friends. Memories of that kid and the taste of dust in the air as they left a wake of destruction-
Reaching out gently, you pried his hand off his knee and gently shook it, the sensation of your small, warm, frail hand wrapped in his own bony metacarpals snapping him back to here and now. Sans' eye darted from your face to your joined hands and he was internally grateful that he wasn't wearing the hand drill that he used to "prank" humans. Now that he was aware of what was happening, he lightly squeezed your hand in return and attempted to ignore the happy, fuzzy feeling welling up in his chest.
"pleased to meat you." Internally he panicked the moment he said that, scolding himself to reel in those sort of jokes and hoping you didn't catch his emphasis on the word.
You did.
"O-oh! Because I have meat on my bones!"
we'll go with that.
His eye dropped to your still linked hands and he quirked a brow at you. You were too tipsy to care and continued shaking it as you once again relaxed into the bench, looking out at the pond that reflected the night sky clearly. He followed your gaze, content to stare at the bright, orange moon ripple in the water as your hand finally fell still and laid down beside you, still holding his own.
He almost gagged at how sappy he felt at that moment: holding hands with a human he just met? His psychologist would be so proud. And why were you holding his hand? Did this mean you had that nagging sensation too? At this point, he was nearly convinced that you had to feel it. This pounding, buzzing, happy thrumming at the core of his being had to be mirrored in you, right?
Glancing at you from the corner of his eye to get a gauge on you, he could only blink when he found your head lolled back as though you had fallen asleep. A thousand thoughts began rocketing through his mind, bringing back his pounding migraine with a vengeance as he worked through what just happened. You weren't moving and your eyes were closed, but you weren't dead, otherwise his soul would literally be trying to drag him after you to whatever afterlife there may be.
"... hey."
No response.
Okay. You were a human that had been drinking. No reason to panic: he knew humans would fall asleep on the dime just from what he had seen from his short time on the Surface. It was late, you were probably worn out from all the stress of your ex pestering and you were drunk. You probably just passed out.
That didn't stop him from prodding your shoulder with his free hand.
Nothing.
Frustrated and borderline panicking, Sans pried his hand free of your own and clasped your shoulders. You weren't dead, he knew that. He... Just had to make sure you were okay, that's all. You were human and didn't humans get sick easily? The roller coaster of emotions that you were dragging him through in the brief time you've encountered one another was astonishing and it only made his headache worse: worry and fear was most definitely his least favorite of the bunch.
He moved to maneuver your head into a position he could study it better, but he couldn't see anything wrong with you that would make you unresponsive. It was irrational to do a complete emotional one-eighty, from content to worried half to death but he just found you: he was terrified he would blink and you'd be gone! It happened too many times in the past and he knew if he wasn't careful, it would happen again and-
He shook his head firmly.
you're just asleep.
One of his hands cradled your head while the other slid down, pressing into your throat to feel for your pulse, shivering in relief when he found it pulsating strongly.
Thmp-thmp, thmp-thmp, thmp-thmp.
His fingers drummed on your neck, matching the beat of your heart. It reassured him that you were still there: you were still alive. You were okay.
Thmp-thmp, thmp-thmp, thmp-thmp.
Everything was going to be okay. Sure, you may or may not know what Sans was to you and he had no idea on how to go about romancing you into loving him as much as he was loving you-
slow down, bucko. don't skip steps one through twenty.
He could take his time. Get to know you better. Let you get to know him better.
Thmp-thmp, thmp-thmp, thmp-thmp.
A sudden snore from you made Sans reel back as though you burned him, his eye light going dark and his hands shot up in the air as though to say "i didn't do anything!".
All you did was scratch your neck and slump further into the bench.
... right. definitely asleep then.
Now feeling abashed for getting worked up over nothing, he decided that it was definitely getting a bit nippier and that it would be wise to just get you home at this point. So, he decided that this would work in his favor as he reached over and tugged your purse from your hands, allowing you to lay limply beside him as he dug through it. There wasn't much inside: just a phone, a pack of tissues, keys, a wallet and... Tampons. Good to know?
He ignored the latter in favor of pulling out your wallet, poking around inside. There wasn't much aside from a few reward cards, your driver's license a debit card and a couple receipts for gas and groceries. He pulled out your license, sucking in a breath when he saw the picture of you smiling radiantly at him, your cheeks plumper than they were now.
He checked the listed weight and just from eyeballing you, he assumed that you were about forty pounds lighter than what the card said you were seven years ago, if the issue date of it was anything to go off of.
interesting.
It was a mystery for another day, unfortunately, and he made himself focus more on memorizing your address for now. There was a brief moment where he considered going through your phone, but settled against the idea: it would be better for the both of you if he learned things from the source. Yeah, snooping further would give him the information he wants, but his head injury wouldn't allow for him to clearly remember to not admit that he was doing something he shouldn't have.
He could always nose around later on, anyways.
Sans tucked your belongings back into your purse and looped the strap around your shoulder, leaning in to scoop you into his arms so that he could bring you home for the night.
It was at that moment that your eyes cracked open a sliver and you keeled over, vomiting all over the ground and his slippers.
XxX
Honestly, it wasn't too hard to get you into your apartment, aside from the puking incident.
Sans had to look it up on his phone, but once he had the general area in mind, all he did was teleport the two of you over to what looked like a run-of-the-mill apartment complex. Sure, he was worried someone would spot him in the process of carrying your completely limp body and call the cops on him just because he was a monster, but he somehow managed to luck out when he didn't come across a single soul.
At that point, it was just a matter of juggling your unconscious form, your shoes and digging in your purse for your keys to get the door open.
Once inside, he made quick work of locating your bedroom and dumping you onto your bed. From there, he tried to decide if it would be worth the effort to shove you into a pair of pajamas, but ultimately decided that it was best to leave you as is. Not only for modesty, but because he knew that you probably knew that you would have been black out drunk by the time you got home and wouldn't have been able to coordinate yourself enough to change clothes.
So, he made a point to position your shoes as though you had kicked them off and dropped your purse and keys by the door, along with moving objects slightly to appear as though you had bumped into them.
While he did this, he noticed a fire escape just outside the window in your living room.
oh. that's convenient.
He made note of that for if he needed to get in and out unnoticed and began to rifle through the small, dingy apartment for signs of a roommate. When he found none, he couldn't help the pleased rumble deep in chest and he opened your fridge to check the status there. That made him frown instantly when he saw that it was bare bones: a few condiments, milk, the makings for a sandwich and a few vegetables on the side.
Tap-tap-tap-tap.
Sans shut the fridge, telling himself that there was no use in working himself up about this now. He wasn't in a position where he could make you stock up more and it could possibly make matters worse if he didn't go about this the right way. No, for now, he needed to figure out a way to have an encounter with you while you were sober. He could make a better impression that way.
Finding himself shuffling back towards your room, he began to poke around for something that would tell him where you would be the next day. A planner, sticky notes, ticket stubs: anything. If he had to, he would just go through your phone, consequences be damned and-
His eye fell on a uniform neatly folded on your dresser.
Tomorrow was a Monday. It'd be safe to assume you'd be going to work just like every other person in this city.
Reaching out, he carefully picked up the work shirt, unfolding it enough so that he could read the company name embroidered above the left breast pocket.
Déjà Brew.
Ah. You worked at a coffee shop.
Sans' grin stretched wider. "see you tomorrow, pumpkin."