Fic: Chocolate Chips and Hand-Me-Downs
Title: Chocolate Chips and Hand-Me-Downs
Fandom: Undertale
Word Count: 1407
Rating: Teen
Warnings: Implied child abuse
Summary: Sans has a meeting with Asgore every few weeks.
Author’s Note: This is yet another fic heavily inspired by Zarla's Handplates AU, especially this post, and also this related comment thread. I've also drawn inspiration from UncannyCookie's wonderful fic, Project SA-N5.
Sans meets with Asgore regularly in an isolated, hidden location. Not because he wants to, but because that seems to be the best way to keep Asgore from trying to track down where he stays the rest of the time.
Today Asgore looks at him with sad eyes and offers him a chocolate chip cookie. “My child, there is nothing in the world I regret more than not doing enough to protect you.”
Sans can feel his eyebrow ridges rise. “Really?” he asks. “Not even when your kids died? I didn’t know I meant that much to you.”
Asgore’s expression becomes deeply pained. Sans hadn’t even been trying to hurt his feelings this time; wouldn’t it be just fucking perfect if he finally found the limit to Asgore’s apparently infinite patience when he hadn’t even been trying to?
“I suppose I deserve that,” Asgore rumbles eventually. Sans clenches his fists down under the table where Asgore won’t see; what will it take? “I will never stop missing Chara and Asriel, you know. But what happened to you - for that, I blame myself. I should have kept a closer eye on Gaster’s research. I knew that he considered ethics secondary to progress, but I chose to give him free rein anyway.”
Sans doesn’t understand why Asgore insists on these meetings, unless it’s to relieve his guilt, but no matter what Sans does, no matter how he tries to convince Asgore that he’s not worth feeling guilty over, nothing seems to help. It just seems to make Asgore feel worse.
“Whatever,” Sans says with a shrug. “It all worked out in the end, didn’t it?”
“Perhaps,” Asgore says, although he doesn’t sound very sure. “Sans, I wish you would reconsider. There is a place for you in my home; there always will be.”
“No,” says Sans without needing to think about it.
“Gaster is locked up, I will make sure he is never able to get near you or hurt you again.”
“No,” Sans repeats, getting up from his seat. He’s ready to walk out.
“Please don’t go,” Asgore says quickly, lifting his hands with his palms turned towards Sans. “The choice is yours, always. I just wish I knew what you needed me to do, to prove that it will be safe.”
“I don’t need anything,” Sans insists. “I don’t need anyone. I can take care of myself fine. It’s better that way.”
Asgore lets the subject drop, much to Sans’s relief. He finishes the last bite of his cookie; he’d tried to make it last as long as he could, but it’s all gone now. He looks down at the crumbs on his skeletal fingers. He doesn’t usually do this; it’s too risky, but the cookie was really good.
“Do you have any more of those?” Sans asks. “To save for later, I mean. It’s kind of hard to enjoy a cookie when someone’s staring at you while you eat it.”
Asgore blushes and pulls out a paper bag. It looks pretty full. Sans would kind of like to take another cookie right now, but he controls himself. That’s not why he asked for them.
“Would you like some more tea?” Asgore offers, holding up his thermos.
“Nah. It goes straight through me,” Sans chuckles. He doesn’t like leaving Papyrus alone for too long. He stands up and brushes crumbs off his shirt. There’s a chocolate chip stuck in a crease in his hoodie; Sans pulls it out and eats it, and it leaves a chocolaty stain on the blue fabric. His clothes are already pretty grubby though, so it’s not like it’ll stand out.
“I’ll be back here in two weeks,” Asgore says quickly once he sees Sans is ready to leave. “Is there anything you need, anything I can bring you?”
Sans has been thinking about this. “Some stuff to sew with would be neat,” he says. “To fix up some of my clothes that have holes.”
Asgore is usually happy to bring Sans anything he asks for, even if it’s something expensive or difficult to get, but this time he looks troubled for some reason. “Sans,” he says, “I’d be happy to take your damaged clothing away to be mended by a tailor. Or I could just bring you new clothing. Anything you want.”
“No,” Sans snaps. “I want to do it for myself. I don’t need you!” It’s a complete lie, of course. If he really didn’t need Asgore, he wouldn’t be asking him for needles and thread.
Asgore raises his hands in surrender. “Okay,” he says, “that’s fine. But if you change your mind...”
“I won’t.” Sans walks briskly to the opening of the little cave, and stops for a second when Asgore speaks behind him.
“It was nice to see you, my child. Please do take care of yourself until next time we meet.”
Sans looks down at his feet. No matter how mean he is towards Asgore, the other monster is always kind in return. “Yeah,” he mumbles, “thanks. You too.”
It takes him a long time to get home. Not because he met Asgore that far from where he lives - although he’s not stupid enough to meet the king very close to his home either - but because of the roundabout route he takes, and the time he spends lurking in corners and waiting to make sure he’s not being followed. Finally, he sees the tiny opening - barely a crack in the cavern wall, really - that leads to the little cave he lives in, and inside that is the small shelter he built out of boxes and scraps of wood, and inside that is his brother.
“Sans, you’re back!” Papyrus squeals excitedly. He’s pretty good at keeping his voice down, usually. He’s had a lot of practice, and Sans always reminds him to be quiet, but Papyrus is someone who loves to shout and make lots of noise.
“Shhh,” Sans whispers. “Yeah, I’m back, bro. Have you been good?”
“Yeah!” Papyrus grins up at Sans, so happy to see him. Sans doesn’t really get it, he’s nothing special, but Papyrus doesn’t know many people, even fewer than Sans does. Just Gaster and himself, really, and Sans supposes that even he must look pretty awesome next to Gaster.
“I brought you a present, bro,” Sans says, taking out the bag of cookies. Papyrus immediately reaches out with both hands, but Sans knows if he gives him the whole bag Papyrus will eat all the cookies in one go and make himself sick, so he opens it and takes out just one.
“What is it?” Papyrus asks, taking it carefully. He has to push the sleeves of his sweater up to free his hands, and they bunch up around his elbows hilariously. Papyrus doesn’t know any better, really, but Sans feels bad that he has no clothes that fit him, only hand-me-downs. But if Asgore comes through, in a couple weeks he’ll be able to adjust some of his old things so that they fit Papyrus better. He’ll probably screw it up, but it’s got to be better than dressing a little kid in teenager-sized clothes.
“It’s a cookie. It’s for eating.” And just as Sans had expected, Papyrus sticks the whole cookie in his mouth at once.
“Mmhss guuh,” Papyrus mumbles, crumbs spraying everywhere. He finishes the mouthful and says with astonishment, “There’s chocolate in it!”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Can I have another one?”
“Not right now. After dinner,” Sans says, because he figures that’s the responsible thing to do. Papyrus grumbles and stomps away, but not a minute later he’s running to Sans wanting to show him a picture he drew, and Sans looks at it and makes all the appropriate noises.
Papyrus is so happy, so loving, all the time. Sans isn’t sure how he does it, but maybe it’s one of the improvements Gaster made. He’d learned a lot from making Sans; when he got to making Papyrus he’d done a few things differently. Papyrus isn’t physically weak like Sans is, he’s tough, and Gaster had been able to run experiments on him that he’d never dared attempt with Sans.
Even through all of that, though, Papyrus never became angry and spiteful like Sans has. Sans supposes it just proves that Papyrus is the one Gaster got right. Papyrus deserves better. Sans isn’t sure he can provide it, but he has to try. He can’t trust Papyrus to anyone else.
Fandom: Undertale
Word Count: 1407
Rating: Teen
Warnings: Implied child abuse
Summary: Sans has a meeting with Asgore every few weeks.
Author’s Note: This is yet another fic heavily inspired by Zarla's Handplates AU, especially this post, and also this related comment thread. I've also drawn inspiration from UncannyCookie's wonderful fic, Project SA-N5.
Sans meets with Asgore regularly in an isolated, hidden location. Not because he wants to, but because that seems to be the best way to keep Asgore from trying to track down where he stays the rest of the time.
Today Asgore looks at him with sad eyes and offers him a chocolate chip cookie. “My child, there is nothing in the world I regret more than not doing enough to protect you.”
Sans can feel his eyebrow ridges rise. “Really?” he asks. “Not even when your kids died? I didn’t know I meant that much to you.”
Asgore’s expression becomes deeply pained. Sans hadn’t even been trying to hurt his feelings this time; wouldn’t it be just fucking perfect if he finally found the limit to Asgore’s apparently infinite patience when he hadn’t even been trying to?
“I suppose I deserve that,” Asgore rumbles eventually. Sans clenches his fists down under the table where Asgore won’t see; what will it take? “I will never stop missing Chara and Asriel, you know. But what happened to you - for that, I blame myself. I should have kept a closer eye on Gaster’s research. I knew that he considered ethics secondary to progress, but I chose to give him free rein anyway.”
Sans doesn’t understand why Asgore insists on these meetings, unless it’s to relieve his guilt, but no matter what Sans does, no matter how he tries to convince Asgore that he’s not worth feeling guilty over, nothing seems to help. It just seems to make Asgore feel worse.
“Whatever,” Sans says with a shrug. “It all worked out in the end, didn’t it?”
“Perhaps,” Asgore says, although he doesn’t sound very sure. “Sans, I wish you would reconsider. There is a place for you in my home; there always will be.”
“No,” says Sans without needing to think about it.
“Gaster is locked up, I will make sure he is never able to get near you or hurt you again.”
“No,” Sans repeats, getting up from his seat. He’s ready to walk out.
“Please don’t go,” Asgore says quickly, lifting his hands with his palms turned towards Sans. “The choice is yours, always. I just wish I knew what you needed me to do, to prove that it will be safe.”
“I don’t need anything,” Sans insists. “I don’t need anyone. I can take care of myself fine. It’s better that way.”
Asgore lets the subject drop, much to Sans’s relief. He finishes the last bite of his cookie; he’d tried to make it last as long as he could, but it’s all gone now. He looks down at the crumbs on his skeletal fingers. He doesn’t usually do this; it’s too risky, but the cookie was really good.
“Do you have any more of those?” Sans asks. “To save for later, I mean. It’s kind of hard to enjoy a cookie when someone’s staring at you while you eat it.”
Asgore blushes and pulls out a paper bag. It looks pretty full. Sans would kind of like to take another cookie right now, but he controls himself. That’s not why he asked for them.
“Would you like some more tea?” Asgore offers, holding up his thermos.
“Nah. It goes straight through me,” Sans chuckles. He doesn’t like leaving Papyrus alone for too long. He stands up and brushes crumbs off his shirt. There’s a chocolate chip stuck in a crease in his hoodie; Sans pulls it out and eats it, and it leaves a chocolaty stain on the blue fabric. His clothes are already pretty grubby though, so it’s not like it’ll stand out.
“I’ll be back here in two weeks,” Asgore says quickly once he sees Sans is ready to leave. “Is there anything you need, anything I can bring you?”
Sans has been thinking about this. “Some stuff to sew with would be neat,” he says. “To fix up some of my clothes that have holes.”
Asgore is usually happy to bring Sans anything he asks for, even if it’s something expensive or difficult to get, but this time he looks troubled for some reason. “Sans,” he says, “I’d be happy to take your damaged clothing away to be mended by a tailor. Or I could just bring you new clothing. Anything you want.”
“No,” Sans snaps. “I want to do it for myself. I don’t need you!” It’s a complete lie, of course. If he really didn’t need Asgore, he wouldn’t be asking him for needles and thread.
Asgore raises his hands in surrender. “Okay,” he says, “that’s fine. But if you change your mind...”
“I won’t.” Sans walks briskly to the opening of the little cave, and stops for a second when Asgore speaks behind him.
“It was nice to see you, my child. Please do take care of yourself until next time we meet.”
Sans looks down at his feet. No matter how mean he is towards Asgore, the other monster is always kind in return. “Yeah,” he mumbles, “thanks. You too.”
It takes him a long time to get home. Not because he met Asgore that far from where he lives - although he’s not stupid enough to meet the king very close to his home either - but because of the roundabout route he takes, and the time he spends lurking in corners and waiting to make sure he’s not being followed. Finally, he sees the tiny opening - barely a crack in the cavern wall, really - that leads to the little cave he lives in, and inside that is the small shelter he built out of boxes and scraps of wood, and inside that is his brother.
“Sans, you’re back!” Papyrus squeals excitedly. He’s pretty good at keeping his voice down, usually. He’s had a lot of practice, and Sans always reminds him to be quiet, but Papyrus is someone who loves to shout and make lots of noise.
“Shhh,” Sans whispers. “Yeah, I’m back, bro. Have you been good?”
“Yeah!” Papyrus grins up at Sans, so happy to see him. Sans doesn’t really get it, he’s nothing special, but Papyrus doesn’t know many people, even fewer than Sans does. Just Gaster and himself, really, and Sans supposes that even he must look pretty awesome next to Gaster.
“I brought you a present, bro,” Sans says, taking out the bag of cookies. Papyrus immediately reaches out with both hands, but Sans knows if he gives him the whole bag Papyrus will eat all the cookies in one go and make himself sick, so he opens it and takes out just one.
“What is it?” Papyrus asks, taking it carefully. He has to push the sleeves of his sweater up to free his hands, and they bunch up around his elbows hilariously. Papyrus doesn’t know any better, really, but Sans feels bad that he has no clothes that fit him, only hand-me-downs. But if Asgore comes through, in a couple weeks he’ll be able to adjust some of his old things so that they fit Papyrus better. He’ll probably screw it up, but it’s got to be better than dressing a little kid in teenager-sized clothes.
“It’s a cookie. It’s for eating.” And just as Sans had expected, Papyrus sticks the whole cookie in his mouth at once.
“Mmhss guuh,” Papyrus mumbles, crumbs spraying everywhere. He finishes the mouthful and says with astonishment, “There’s chocolate in it!”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Can I have another one?”
“Not right now. After dinner,” Sans says, because he figures that’s the responsible thing to do. Papyrus grumbles and stomps away, but not a minute later he’s running to Sans wanting to show him a picture he drew, and Sans looks at it and makes all the appropriate noises.
Papyrus is so happy, so loving, all the time. Sans isn’t sure how he does it, but maybe it’s one of the improvements Gaster made. He’d learned a lot from making Sans; when he got to making Papyrus he’d done a few things differently. Papyrus isn’t physically weak like Sans is, he’s tough, and Gaster had been able to run experiments on him that he’d never dared attempt with Sans.
Even through all of that, though, Papyrus never became angry and spiteful like Sans has. Sans supposes it just proves that Papyrus is the one Gaster got right. Papyrus deserves better. Sans isn’t sure he can provide it, but he has to try. He can’t trust Papyrus to anyone else.