Chapter Text
Reaching into your purse to find the keys to your front door, you let out a long and tired sigh.
Another date, another disappointment .
Well, at least this guy had the decency to actually say goodbye before making a swift departure from the bar...even if it WAS shouted over his shoulder as he ran.
Yes, ran. They always ran. And you had no idea why.
You paused in your search for your keys; your hand still stuffed in your purse, and leant forward until your forehead pressed against the cool surface of the door.
Was there something wrong with you? You never thought you were the best looking thing in the world; you'd always been a bit lanky, never really forming the proper curves other girls did. Who needed big boobs anyway? They'd only go saggy and drag on the ground when you got older (at least that's what you told yourself to make you feel better)
But you figured you were at least cute, why else would you be asked out on so many dates?.
It was always the same routine. You get hit on at work/college/in town, trade numbers (if you’re interested) and agree to meet for a date.
You dress up all pretty and shit, something you really hate doing (jeans and hoodies all the way man) put on makeup, even tame your fucking hair into a more manageable style. The date even starts well; he buys the drinks, says how stunning/gorgeous/hot you look, you get chatting and even if it’s a bit awkward at first you’ve always had the ability to talk for two people (sometimes even more).
But it always, ALWAYS ends with the same thing. They either disappear when you go to the ladies room, or they disappear when they go for a smoke, or they make up a lame excuse “Uh yeah, sorry, my uh, appendix just burst” and get the fuck outta there.
Like, all of a sudden they’ve realised they’ve made a terrible mistake and decide to leave you hanging for half an hour, and you’re just sitting there like some fucking idiot getting more and more humiliated as people stare and whisper and eventually you just finish your drink, slam the glass on the table and strut out the place, head held high like you’re too good for this shit hole. When in actuality you’re dying a bit inside.
But those fuck heads don’t have to know that.
Sniffing miserably you feel your eyes heat up as you hold back tears. It wasn’t like this guy was the love of your life or anything, but god dammit it was a real kick to the ego when your date literally RUNS from you.
Sighing again you pull out your keys, head still pressed against the door, and fit them into the lock. Before you can turn the handle though, the door swings open and you nearly topple forward onto your housemate.
You squeak in surprise and right yourself as you hear a low chuckle and the sound of bones brushing against fabric as you set your eyes on a pair of pink fluffy slippers.
You let out a long, suffering groan.
Of course it would be this particular skeleton to find you in this pathetic state.
Yeah, that’s right, a skeleton. You live with one…well two actually. Brothers. It’s a long story, but the short version is, one of them burnt down your house. Not maliciously or anything, he’s just….a terrible, terrible cook.
But he’s also a sweetheart and the loveliest person/monster/skeleton you’ve ever met, that’s why you’re living in a house with them, because he (Papyrus is his name…yeah, don’t ask) was so distraught that he had destroyed his best friend’s house, that you just HAD to come live with him and his brother, free of charge of course, until you found a new place to live.
That was nearly a year ago, because every time you mentioned you’d found a new place to look at, Papyrus would just give you the biggest puppy-dog eyes, which is weird because he’s a skeleton and doesn’t actually have eyes, and beg you to stay.
And you’re just such a sucker for sweetie pies that you can’t say no.
THIS guy, on the other hand, is an asshole.
Papyrus’s older/younger (you’re not quite sure) brother; Sans. He seemed pretty cool with you moving into their spare room at the start. You cooked for them, despite Papyrus insisting on giving you instructions at any given moment, you sorted the bills, because Papyrus (despite being mighty and brilliant) has no idea how the real world works, and Sans is....well, Sans and you tidied all the shit left around the house without a single complaint.
You even laughed at his terrible puns (though you had to admit, they did tickle your funny bone every now and again…oh god he’s rubbing off on you)
But gradually he started becoming snarkier and ruder to you; constantly taking the piss out of you, scaring the living crap outta you by just appearing out of nowhere, and he stares. Like, A LOT. Even when you catch him staring, he doesn’t break eye contact, his permanently fixed grin just widens and he carries on staring until you go red and look away.
Papyrus says it’s just Sans’ way of accepting you into the family.
YOU think he’s trying to run you out of the house, but you’re made of tougher stuff.
He can kiss your ass for all you care.
You right yourself, tugging at your dress to straighten it. Sans’ eyes (those weird little dots of light in his sockets) flick down and up, his permanent shit eating grin faltering for a split second before returning full force.
“heh, i take it the date didn’t go so well, otherwise you wouldn’t be throwing yourself at me like that, buddy”
Although it’s not much of a height difference the extra two inches on your heels gives you the perfect opportunity to glare down at him.
You flick your hair over your shoulder and quirk your red tinted lips into a haughty smile.
“You wish, bonehead, I was just dizzy from how hot the make out sesh with my date was”
You lie, and he knows it’s a lie because his grins widens to the point that you think his jawbone might crack.
You hope it does.
“make out sesh? you mean the one with the door? cuz from what I could see you two were getting pretty intimate”
He’s crosses his arms over his chest, his stupid puffy jacket rustling as he does so as he leans casually against the door frame.
You stiffen, your hands clenching into fists. How much trouble would you get into if you just beat him to death with your purse? It was late; there wouldn’t be any witnesses….
You entertain the thought longer than any sane person would.
“want i should leave you two alone? wouldn’t wanna ruin the end to your ‘hot date’”
He winks at you and you feel your face blaze red.
“Fuck off Sans”
You snap as you enter the threshold, purposefully bumping your shoulder into him as you go past, though you’re soon reminded that he doesn’t have soft flesh to cushion the contact as his humerus slams into your arm.
You wince and mutter a quiet ‘ow, fuck’, ignoring the laughter behind you as traverse up the stairs, being careful not to stomp because it’s 11pm and Papyrus is more than likely tucked away in bed sleeping soundly, and make your way to your room at the end of the hallway.
You spare a moment to cast a quick glance down the balcony to the floor below, but find that the door is closed and Sans is nowhere to be seen.
You scrunch your face up at where he was standing and swing open your door, glad to finally be in the privacy of your own room so you can wallow in self-pity before passing out.
Tonight sucked ass.