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Sans held the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen in his arms; a little pile of bones held together by a teeny-tiny little soul. His newborn daughter. Her bones had a pale pink stain to them, left over from the time she had spent in Papyrus’s magic, that would go away in time. The little heart glowed with intensity, struggling to support a body on it’s own, but he could already feel the determination emanating from it, the sheer passion she already had for living. Her little life refused to give out and turn to dust.
Pulling his child closer, Sans felt tears build up in his eyesockets. She had been so close to…
“Sans..?” Papyrus managed to rasp, exhausted from labor, “Sans, are you okay? What’s wrong?”
“sh-she- she’s--” Sans blubbered between sobs, “she’s perfect- i- i love her so much already-”
Papyrus sighed and smiled, relieved that nothing was wrong. “What should we name her?”
“i dunno- i just- she’s so- god, i love you, i love you, and i love her, and i can’t-”
Papyrus chuckled and opened his arms to make room for his family. Sans immediately but carefully slipped into his brother’s arms. The pair gazed down at the pink skeleton, one in tears, one with a tired but content expression, and both with nothing but love in their eyes.
“Angel.”
“huh?”
“She’s our little Angel.”
Sans started shaking at the suggestion, joy finally overwhelming him. “angel- our- our little angel- fuck, pap, i’m gonna scare her, take her.”
“You’re fine, Sans…” Papyrus still took Angel into his arms, happy to have his daughter closer to him again. “Hello, sweetie…” His voice became soft and warm when speaking to her, “You are absolutely stunning… Even more than myself, I’d have to say!” Sans peeked over Papyrus’s shoulder to get a better look at Angel’s face. The child looked to her shorter father and opened and closed her hand as best she could, being only a few hours old. Sans felt his soul light up with pride again, the grin on his face starting to hurt.
Papyrus faked a dramatic gasp and tone, “Who’s that? Who is it? Look, it’s Daddy!” Angel made a happy squealing noise in response and reached up to gently smack at Papyrus’s face.
Sans laughed aloud, “yeah, you get ‘im, angie! show ‘im who’s boss!” Papyrus turned his head and glared good-naturedly, just in time for Angel’s tiny hand to hit him again, making Sans burst into laughter once more. “alright, we should probably put her to bed. she’ll need a lot of sleep while she adjusts to a body.”
Papyrus frowned slightly (another tiny slap, Sans was barely able to stifle his chuckle this time), “But… I want to hold her… Keep her safe…”
“she’ll just be in the crib. besides, you need sleep, too. i’ll keep an eyesocket on her.”
Papyrus suddenly looked very tired, energy drained from the excitement, “I suppose you’re right… Will you put her to bed for me?”
“‘course, love.”
“Wrap her in a blanket! And put her in a onesie! Not in that order!”
“alright, alright, i will, hun. go to sleep. i’ll stay up for her.”
“Wake me if you need help. Or if she can’t sleep. Or if-”
“we’ll be fine, papyrus.” Sans leaned in, kissed him, and took Angel from his arms.
“If you say so…” Papyrus shifted, lying on his side in the skeleton’s small shared bed. Almost instantly, his breathing slowed and he seemed to be asleep.
“okay, angie,” Sans whispered, “onesie and a blanket.” He turned and set her in the crib, lingering by it to let her see she was safe. She made a whine-like noise at suddenly being put down, but her father’s finger was wrapped in her hand, so she didn’t start crying. Yet. But so far, so good. Slowly but gently, he pried his finger from her grip while petting her skull and humming lowly. No screaming, no tears. He lifted his hands out of the crib. She made sounds of confusion, but he just needed to grab two things, then he’d be back.
Sans moved across the room, opened the lowest right-hand drawer, and pulled out the smallest baby outfit and blanket he found. He held a tiny yellow onesie with blue dots on it and a fuzzy green blanket with a cartoon duck on it in his hands. Both, and all the other things he had found in Waterfall for the baby, had been washed repeatedly by Papyrus while Sans worked on making his old lab habitable for the three of them.
When Papyrus announced that he was pregnant, neither knew what to do at first. In the end, Sans knew he had to get his shit together. He got a job, raised money, learned to cook, and all around tried to be a better person. He remembered when the two of them were living with Gaster, and always knew he’d do everything in his power to never be like him. Luckily, Papyrus didn’t remember him or the horrible things he did to them.
It was dangerous for a pregnant monster in the Underground. You were vulnerable, weak, with less magic to defend yourself because your body was diverting most of it to keeping both you and the child alive. Sans was more than willing to fulfill his old role of being the sole protector for his family, even if it meant more work for him.
And it was a lot of work. Especially getting the old lab cleaned up. He took apart that old machine, built a whole new room to be the pantry, moved in a bed, crib, washing and drying machines, a sink, stove, and new drawers, plus all the little things, like their books, baby toys, the food itself, clothes, soap, and everything they’d need for surviving. Surprisingly, though, Sans wasn’t as exhausted as he thought he was going to be. At least, not yet; he still had to tackle the whole parenting thing, but up until now had left him tired, but content. He had to admit, he missed having something to be passionate about.
A particularly loud whine snapped Sans out of his thoughts. Angel had been waiting too long. Sans shut the drawer and walked back to the crib, putting his spare hand on her skull and humming again, waiting for her soul to resonate in response. His daughter stopped crying, reaching up to grab onto his arm.
“s’okay, baby girl, s’okay, i’m here.” He whispered to her. Picking her up, he sat on the floor and wondered how to wrestle her into the onesie. Unzipping the front with one hand, he set it on the ground and slipped it onto her one limb at a time. There, clothed baby. The blanket would be the hard part.
After a few minutes of struggle, he managed to wrap the blanket around her body, not too tight, not too loose, but he was having trouble tucking the blanket into itself so it wouldn’t all unravel. Oh, well. He’d be there to help her if it came undone in her wiggling around. Gently, she set his child back in her crib, offering his hand so she knew he was still there. She wrapped her hand around his thumb and stared at her father through the bars.
“what’re you lookin’ at, huh?” Sans joked. Unsurprisingly, she didn’t understand, and kept glaring. Sans stared back, determined to beat his daughter in their first staring contest.
Sans was a sore loser.