#not bcuz she attacked it but because everyones voices kept going from like

[listeningtoabundleofpodcasts]

halfway through season 2 and i keep getting jumpscared whenever anyone raises their voices. my volume needs to be turned up super high to hear whenever anyones just regularly talking and then like jonathan starts raising his voice and there go my ear drums.

[brilliantlyyours]

okay prompt!! kinda!! but jace following simon cause there is a suspicion of a shifter/demon thing who’s a teacher and jace is overprotective and jace reveals himself from his invisibility rune and simon panics and everyone stares and girls giggle.

Oh you want some college Jimon?

CAUSE I CAN GIVE YOU COLLEGE JIMON. (well not really college bcuz Simon is the only one in college....but WHATEVER)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

“Alright, listen up.” Alec called the meeting room to attention. “There’s a shifter demon rumored to be skulking around the University.” Jace rolled his neck. He hadn’t slept that well last night, and shifter demons were probably his least favorite. Clary perked up next to him at the mention of the University.

“NYU?” She asked, fingers tapping anxiously on the table. Alec nodded. “We don’t know why he’s there; we do know he’s posing as a teacher. Magnus thinks he’s seeking out something supernatural, likely one of the teachers or students there.”

Clary stiffened. “How long has he been there?” She asked, her voice strangely tight. Jace shot her a look. Why was she concerned about this? 

Alec flicked his tablet screen, scrolling through a few pages. “About a month.” Clary exhaled harshly. “What is it?” Alec asked, looking up from his screen.

“Simon started taking classes there. About a month ago.” She said. Jace felt a chill run down his spine. Sure, he and Simon had grown closer, and maybe Simon could handle himself better in a fight, but one-on-one with a demon? It was hard, even for Jace. And that’s not even considering what happened a few weeks ago, when Valentine took the Institute....

He felt a bit responsible for the idiot now.

“You think the demon’s after Simon?” Izzy asked. “Why? He’s just a random vampire.” Alec nodded at her. “Izzy’s right. I don’t see why a shifter demon would be targeting a random vampire, and I don’t think it’s working for anyone.” That made sense. Everything his siblings were saying made sense. But Jace had a pit in his stomach. Something wasn’t adding up. 

“Except he’s not a regular vampire anymore.” He muttered, more to himself, as the pit in his stomach solidified. “He’s a Daylighter now.”

The room went quiet.

Clary dug her phone out, tapping quickly at the screen before bringing it up to her ear. She held it there for a few moments before putting it down on the table. “Dammit! I think he’s in class right now.” She swore.

Before Jace could think about it, he went over to the weapon racks, yanking his and Clary’s blade’s off. He tossed her’s and went about buckling his around him. “What are you doing?” Izzy asked, smirking. He ignored the implications of that for right now, focusing on Clary. “You know what his classes are?” She nodded.

“Good. We’re going to get him.”

Jace slipped around another corner, narrowly avoiding bumping into a group of tired-looking students. Alec’s warning still in the back of his mind. “Make sure it’s actually a demon you’re attacking. Don’t go charging in like you usually do.” Jace rolled his eyes. He didn’t charge in. Maybe he walked a little quicker this time. Maybe his mind kept coming up with horrible visions of a demon sinking it’s claws into Simon. Simon crumpling too the floor, bleeding out before Jace could save him...

His veins itched.

He could still feel Simon’s teeth in him, sometimes. Late at night, he woke up from fever dreams and he could almost smell Simon. Like he was leaning over him, pressed flush against his chest. 

Jace jerked his head from side to side, like he could wipe away the daydream just like that. He talked to Izzy about this; it was normal to get these visions after a vampire feeds on you, it was normal to feel attraction to vampire’s who fed off of you, something to with venom and addiction.

He didn’t know if Simon was getting the same dreams, but he did see his eyes stray to that stretch of skin on his arm; the two puncture scars that didn’t fade after the iratze. He would catch his eyes, and he could hear his own voice in the space between them.

“I would’ve let you.”

But it was supposed to fade. Magnus told him three weeks, at the most. Three weeks for the dreams to stop, three weeks until Jace wasn’t hyper-aware of every time Simon walked into the room, three weeks until Jace would stop feeling an unrelenting ache to touch him, feel him, make him real.

It’s been two months, and Jace still wakes up breathless and sweaty, a name on his lips.

He had done a pretty good job of repressing what exactly that meant for a while, but it was all hitting the fan as he flew up another flight of stairs. He and Clary decided to split up, because she couldn’t exactly remember if he had economics or English; and maybe they shouldn’t have, because Clary was still a new shadowhunter who definitely couldn’t handle a shifter demon on her own, but all Jace could think about was making the wrong choice and being too late.

His skin buzzed as he turned down another hallway, ducking around another group of students, and his eyes were inexplicably drawn to Simon.

He was talking to a group of girls, laughing and sliding his bag further up his shoulder. Alive. 

Jace sighed in relief, slipping halfway into an empty doorway to keep out of Simon’s sight. He was glamoured, of course, but Simon would probably start freaking out if he saw Jace shadowing him. He was content to watch, hidden, for anyone threatening nearby.

Suddenly, Simon checked his phone. Sending a smile and a wave at the girls he was talking too, he ducked into a classroom  across the hall. Jace was nearly on his heels, careful to stay out of sight as he took a seat in the very back. He angled himself so Simon couldn’t see him, but he could see Simon and the rest of the room.

As the students continued to fill in and the aimless chatter increased, Jace slipped his stele out and ran it over his heat signature and hearing runes. If the professor was a demon, his heat signature would look different from the rest of the class.

Just then, the professor entered through a door in the back, nearly tripping over himself and scattering a few papers on the floor. Jace leaned forward, narrowing his eyes.

His heat signature was blank.

Jace reached behind him, resting a hand on his seraph blade. Heat signatures can’t be blank. Even creatures who were technically dead still gave off a signature if they moved around. Having no heat signature could only mean one thing. This was an amatuer trying to mask his supernatural presence.

Jace grit his teeth. He couldn’t see how this would end well. He couldn’t attack a seemingly innocent professor in the middle of class; Alec would chew him out and Simon would have to deal with the fallout. No, he had to be provoked.

He would just have to get Magnus down here to wipe the students memories.

He slipped out his phone and texted Alec, giving him the room number and writing, “Need a memory wipe. Soon.” He shoved it back into his pocket. Deactivating his glamour rune, but still keeping the one on his blade up, he strode down the main aisle while the professor had his back turned.

Simon nearly fell on the floor when Jace slid into the seat next to him. “What are you doing here?” He hissed, eyes sliding over the sheath on his back. “You can’t bring stuff like that here!”

He spoke a little too loudly, drawing the attention of a few girls in front of them. Their eyes slid over Jace appreciatively, and Simon pushed down a groan. Jace leaned closer, over the arm rest, until his lips were barely touching Simon’s ear. “Demon hunting.Your professors a shifter.”

Simon did groan then, leaning until his head thunked against the back of his seat. Why, why couldn’t there be one part of his life with no supernatural influence? Jace drummed his fingers on Simon’s desk, eyes trained on the professor-demon.

Why was Jace here? If they needed to hunt a demon, surely Clary would have brought up the fact that he goes here. So why wasn’t she here doing the shadow-hunting?

“You’re his target.” Jace’s whisper brought him out of his musings. “What?” Simon whisper-yelled. Someone cleared their throat in front of them. 

“Mr. Lewis? Is there something you and your.....” The professor-demon stood in front of them, seemingly starting to lecture them, before his eyes caught on the sheath on Jace’s back. Said shadowhunter sent him a smile, all teeth. “Nothing, sir. Just chatting.” He said, playing the part of an inattentive student perfectly.

Simon held his breath. The air between them was charged with tension. Surely he wouldn’t attack Jace in the middle of a lecture hall, right? The professor flicked his eyes from Jace to Simon, staring a little too hard at his mouth. Suddenly, everything happened at once.

The demon must have thought he could take his chance before Jace could react. He lunged at Simon, finger’s morphing to claws at his throat before being yanked back. Jace threw him on the ground as his classmates began yelling. He saw someone whip out their phone and he yelled, “Jace!” just as he was reaching for his seraph blade.

Jace’s eyes flicked to Simon, and to the students surrounding them, all either watching or filming. He grunted, abandoning the blade and instead rearing his arm back, punching the demon square in the nose with enough force that he was knocked unconscious. The students watching cheered at the violence, just as someone picked up the emergency phone to call campus security 

Jace stepped away from the crumpled body of the demon, thankfully morphed back into its human form. Magnus and Alec should be here soon; they could deal with the body. He went over to Simon, eyes trailing the shallow gashes in his neck, already partially healed over. 

He didn’t think about it, still buzzing with adrenaline, before reaching a few fingers to stroke over Simon’s neck. They locked eyes and Jace stepped closer. “Are you alright?” He said, softer than he intended. Simon nodded. He had another scratch on his cheek, just below the cheekbone, Jace’s other hand came up to run across it.

Simon didn’t push him away, just kept his gaze locked on Jace.

The moment was broken by giggling. A group of students were watching them, whispering to each other. Simon grabbed Jace’s hand from his cheek, a crooked smile not at all matching the scenario they were in.

“Let’s get out of here before the police show up.” He murmured. Jace nodded. He followed Simon out the door, followed by the whispers of gossipy college students.

He found that he didn’t really care.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Holy shit that was longer than I thought it would be! But I hope you enjoyed!

[dragonasheswrites-blog]

The Heaven We Didn’t Choose, Chapter 16: In Which Monsters Celebrate

...A holiday that is actually rather tame, given the circumstances.

First: Chapter 1: In Which a Child Makes a Friend

Previous: Chapter 15: In Which Sans is Hired

Next: Chapter 17: In Which Alphys is Terrible

Click here for the story overview.

Sans stared at the items in his hands.  Why he’d ever thought this was a good idea was beyond him.

It had started off so simply.  In the Underground, clothing either had to be made by hand or repurposed from whatever fell into the old dump in Waterfall.  It had been Sans’s job to clothe himself and his brother, and he’d been...decent at it.  They were hardly fashionable (Papyrus had started dressing himself as soon as he was physically able, and wound up looking like a goth Halloween decoration) but they had adequate protection against attacks and the elements.

So.  Soon after Papyrus declared himself Boss and began enforcing his rule with more violence than Sans had been comfortable with, he’d found a door.  It was stupid - he couldn’t open it, and without some idea of what lay beyond he really couldn’t teleport to the other side - but he’d liked the door.  It represented something new, something different.  Something to hope for.  An escape.

Kinda like the barrier, now that he thought about it.

And yeah, okay, he may have told a few shitty jokes to himself out there, just for the sake of hearing his own voice, but it wasn’t like he’d expected anyone to talk back to him.

And yet, someone had.  Tori - though he hadn’t known she was Toriel, Queen of Monsters at the time - was funny.  Depressed as hell, and more than a little morbid, but when she put her mind to it she was hilarious.  For someone who hadn’t heard a decent joke in years, even from his own mouth, she was a small miracle.

They bonded over dumb jokes and self-loathing, even if they would never have admitted to either.  Maybe it was their sincere love of bad jokes, or maybe it was because there was a very solid door between them, but they became...allies, of a sort.

As allies, they exchanged stories and experiences.  Sans heard all about life in the Ruins (the most boring place in the Underground) and Tori heard about Snowdin (a very close second).  Once they realized that their respective lives were awfully dull, they moved on to something a little more practical: survival tips.

Like her daughter, Tori had an impressive fashion sense...and was very aware of the fact that Sans did not.  She was hardly subtle about it.  When he’d described the clothes he and his brother wore, she immediately offered her collection of knitting and crocheting patterns for him to choose from.  Yarn made from spun fiber was fairly common in the Underground, thanks in part to Muffet and her wild bands of spider mercenaries, so he agreed. He was never sure how she got them outside the door - there was never evidence of any evidence that it opened in any way - but from time to time he would find carefully copied patterns waiting for him at his spot.

He’d gotten pretty good at crocheting, actually, before everything went to hell in a handbasket.

Sans would’ve been content to live his life that way: avoiding Boss, swapping dumb jokes with Tori, slacking off work and bugging Grillby.  A few cases as the Judge here and there, a few run-ins with Muffet, maybe a trip over to MTT’s arena if he needed to blow off some steam; everything was pretty good.

Then Alphys - mad scientist that she was - tried to come up with ‘the ultimate weapon’ and accidentally brought a certain prince back to life as a weepy, over-sensitive flower with horrifying powers, and Sans’s life had gone to shit.

Which led, more or less directly, to a skeleton sitting at his sentry post one evening in the middle of December with a bunch of soft brown yarn and a crochet hook he barely remembered how to use.

He had pulled and reworked the little disk he was trying to make several times already, but it still looked lumpy and misshapen to his eye sockets.  With a sigh, he pulled the trailing end of the yarn to unravel his stitches - again - and grabbed the pattern out of his inventory.

What he was trying to make was a hat and mittens.  Simple, right?  He’d made much more complicated things Underground.  Hell, he’d made Boss’s first few undershirts for his Royal Guard uniform; the Guard had armor aplenty, but hadn’t been equipped to deal with someone as...skinny as Boss.  Some sort of padding to protect bone from harsh metal - and to keep the large armor on at all - was necessary, but trying to crochet around bones without a reliable pattern was awful.

He’d gone through a lot of yarn on those undershirts, more than he could’ve afforded at the time if he’d been inclined to pay.  That was probably when Muffet had started that bounty on his head.

The point being, he should have been able to pick crocheting right back up.  It was easy.  Once upon a time he’d practically been able to do it in his sleep.  He probably had done it in his sleep at least once.

But no matter how he twisted and looped and tucked and wrapped, everything kept coming out lopsided.  The urge to tear the wimpy human yarn apart was growing stronger.  Hmph.  Muffet was one of the monsters who hadn’t elected to move to the Surface - she was ruling her extended family-slash-crime syndicate from a roomy cave on the border between Waterfall and Hotland, last he’d heard - but maybe he could armor up and pay her a visit?

Nah.  He didn’t have the guts to go back to the Underground so soon after his confrontation with Asgore.

(Heh!)

He dutifully made a new loop and started crocheting a few stitches.  He wanted to give up, but...sentry duty was terribly boring after dark.  He adjusted his lantern so he could see better, then carefully connected his row together so it formed a small circle.

Well.  That try didn’t look half bad, actually.  Maybe he was actually getting somewhere.  He made a few chain stitches and started on the second row.

It took him a few more false starts, but he managed to create what looked like a small skullcap by the time one of the heavy-armored guards who hailed from Hotland stomped up to his post, leaving steaming footsteps in the snow.

“...,” said the guard.  “... ….”

Sans narrowed his eye sockets at the guard.  “Whatever, pal.  You here to take over?”

“....”

“Ooookay.”  He barely remembered to snatch his project and slip it into his inventory before leaving his sentry post and heading back into town.

‘Christmas present in progress,’ his inventory called it.  He felt his skull turning colors.  How...embarrassing.  Accurate, but embarrassing.  Why did magic have to work on intent, anyways?

Okay, so he’d decided to make Frisk a Christmas gift.  She was human; Christmas was a human holiday.  If only she was a monster...but no.

Monsters were so much easier to deal with, sometimes.  Their winter holiday - Takersfaire - was traditionally a time when everyone put out the crap they didn’t want in booths, and folks snuck around and stole what they liked from other booths.  It kept them sharp, especially on the Surface where stealing was generally discouraged.

And sure, humans sometimes celebrated Takersfaire (even if they were too nice about it; most wouldn’t even take a half-hearted swing at a monster caught stealing from their booths) but he didn’t know if Frisk was one of them.  He’d never seen her steal anything while watching his and Boss’s booth, but then again that was the point.

So...Christmas gift it was.

He felt stupid.  He and Frisk were barely kind-of friends.  But...he’d been cleaning out his closet, looking for a place to hide his new sock collection, and he’d come across his folder of crochet patterns.  There was a pattern for a neat hat with matching mittens that he’d never gotten a chance to try, and on a whim he’d picked up some yarn while he was getting socks and gloves for his uniform.

Frisk just happened to be the only human adult he really knew; that was it.  And the mittens, at least, were clearly designed for a human; he wasn’t sure how Tori had gotten ahold of the pattern, now that he thought about it.  They were far too small for her and far too big for a skeleton, at least without serious modification.

He was going to justify it by making a matching set for Attie, but Christmas was only two weeks away.  With the way his crochet skills were going he doubted he’d be able to finish anything.

Sans shuffled into his apartment (Boss was gone again) and flopped onto his couch.  He didn’t know where this motivation to make things was coming from.  Maybe it was because he’d taken to secretly working out between jobs sometimes; Undyne had been getting on his case, and he’d noticed shifts in his magic from the exertion.  It was almost like he was...getting more energy, or something.

Mostly, it made him twitchy.

He sighed and took the ‘Christmas present in progress’ out of his inventory.  Might as well do something useful.

That was his routine over the next week or so.  He got up, went to his jobs, worked out (but not too much; he had a reputation to uphold) and slowly made progress on Frisk’s present.  He was getting better at stitching; by the time he finished up the mittens, he was no longer pulling out rows for uneven stitches.  He did have to redo a good portion of the left mitten because he’d gotten stressed out and pulled the stitches too tight, but that was just because he was a neurotic mess.

He was sitting in his sentry station one evening having just finished tying off the second mitten when he got a text from Undyne.

Capn Undie 4:52 PM SO You ARE coming to Takersfaire in New Home, RIGHT???

Shit.  Right.  Takersfaire was that evening.  He knew he’d told Boss he wasn’t going, so he was probably working...right?  He checked his inventory.  The crumpled piece of scrap paper he’d written his work schedule on was one of five items labeled ‘Piece of junk,’ so it took him a bit to find it.

You 5:03 PM Uh u have me working a double shift 2nite

Capn Undie 5:12 PM CRAP I DO

You 5:15 PM Yeah bcuz the dogi r still out Puppies need food n stuff Who knew

Capn Undie 5:20 PM BUT THEN WHO WILL WATCH YOUR BOOTH???

You 5:22 PM Boss…?

Capn Undie 5:25 PM NO HE’S TOO HARD ON THE KIDS YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO DUST KIDS ON TAKERSFAIRE

You 5:30 PM Wait he dusted a kid? When was this?

Capn Undie 5:34 PM Nah, I got him in time BUT HE ALMOST DID

You 5:39 PM I dont know what u want me to do about it

Capn Undie 5:43 PM I WANT YOU TO Wait Oh.  Nevermind.

You 5:48 PM So am I working or what Hello Undyne? Hello?

He leaned back in his seat, propping his feet up against his sentry post.  Weird.  What was that about?

Sans hadn’t actively participated in Takersfaire since he was a babybones, but he did usually watch his and Boss’s booth.  He hated it.  Strong monsters sometimes used Takersfaire as a time to show off: the fancier the booth, the more confident its owner was that he’d be able to hold onto all his items.  It ran a little contrary to the spirit of things, but traditions were weird.

Because Boss was Boss, the skeleton brothers’ booth was always one of the most elaborate in the Kingdom of Monsters.   Also because Boss was Boss, most of the items were bones.  There were a few real goodies as well - electronics that Sans fixed up, plates of whatever Boss’s favorite dish was, envelopes of money, etc. - but mostly it was bones.  Bone attacks, at that, just to make things a little less fair.   Touching them wasn’t exactly what most folks would call safe.  And yet, Sans was expected to guard it.  And stay awake while doing so.

It worried Sans that Boss had taken the news that he was on duty during Takersfaire so well.  A calm Boss always had something up his sleeve.  He had no idea what it could be, though.

About an hour later, Sans was woken up from his usual nap by his text alert.

Capn Undie 6:55 PM *1 picture message received PUT YOUR EYE SOCKETS ON THIS

The picture was Undyne in full armor, posing dramatically, her helmet was tucked under one arm and the other around the shoulders of a human woman.  The woman was wearing a beaked mask of dramatic red and orange feathers that matched the hues of her long, flowing dress.  Sans couldn’t place the outfit's reference (some sort of bird??), but after a careful examination he was stunned to recognize the woman as Frisk.

He was so distracted that he almost missed Attie by Frisk’s side, which would have been a tragedy.  Her face was painted in an obvious facsimile of a skull, and she was wearing a hooded onesie with the pattern of a skeleton printed on it.  He considered being mildly offended (humans and their obsession with naked skeletons were a source of constant confusion for him) but Attie had put a pink skirt on over top.

You 7:04 PM Wow I dont recognize those monsters Who r they?

Capn Undie 7:10 PM *3 picture messages received

The first two pictures were both of a twirling Attie.  Behind her was a booth decorated in ribbons and strands of beads, a large Delta Rune symbol on the front.  The ambassador and her daughter had brought what looked like chocolate cookies in cheerful baggies, as well as some small toys and colorful pieces of clothing.  There was nothing particularly expensive, but the items were personal and useful...especially to those who still lived in the Underground.

The final picture was of Frisk.  She was looking at something off to her left, her head turned to expose the gentle curves of her neck and shoulders.  One hand was raised, lifting the mask just enough to reveal her face.  She was smiling, the same way she always smiled at Attie.

On the table behind her, one of the bags of cookies was missing.

Sans put his head down on the counter of his station, trying to control his trembling arms.   This was the woman he’d killed - sometimes slowly and painfully - dozens of times.  Maybe hundreds of times.  His memories of previous timelines had always been a little fuzzy; he didn’t know, really, how much pain he’d caused her.

And yet…

Don’t.  Don’t even think it.  It’s pointless.  It will only bring heartbreak.

...and yet...some part of him seemed to gravitate towards her.  She wasn’t just the young woman who broke the barrier, or the Kingdom of Monsters’ primary ambassador, or even Attie’s mother.  She wasn’t just someone he’d had an on-and-off passive-aggressive feud with for the past eight years.

She was someone who cared enough to advocate on his behalf.  He had no doubt that she was the one who had sicced Undyne on him.  Undyne rarely cared for anyone but herself (unless caffeine was involved), and yet she’d gone out of her way to help him on multiple occasions.  She’d befriended him.

He owed Frisk a lot.

Staying out of her life so he wouldn’t drag her down seemed like a small price to pay for all she’d done for his sorry ass, but…

“Attie misses you.”

...was that really the best option?  He really didn’t know what was “best” anymore.  He was beginning to doubt that Boss knew what was best, and the past ten years of his life had revolved around the fact that Boss always knew what was best.  The obvious course of action would be to talk to Frisk or someone close to her, but his soul clenched at the thought.

It was a fear of rejection, he realized.  If Undyne or Tori or someone else who knew Frisk well told him to stay away from her, he would have no reason to wonder.  He would have no reason to hope.  It was...more frightening than he wanted to admit.

Capn Undie 7:58 PM OI BONEHEAD!!!! ARE YOU ASLEEP???

You 8:05 PM Nah They look cool Thanks for the pics

Capn Undie 8:07 PM YEAH!!!  They clean up nice, don’t they? Hey, Attie wants to stop by your station after this.

You 8:10 PM You wanna let a kid go tramping down the mountain in the dark and the cold? Also it just started snowing Again

Capn Undie 8:19 PM Fishsticks Frisk got pulled into a meeting Maybe another time BUT I’m gonna take LOTS more pictures So many pictures it’s gonna BLOW YOUR PHONE UP But I’m NOT gonna send them to you YET I HAVE A PLAN GO VISIT ALPHYS SOON I PUT UP WITH HER FOR AN HOUR AND I WON’T LET IT GO TO WASTE

You 8:31 PM Fine

Sans groaned.  He’d been putting off going to see Alphys as long as possible (her broken surveillance equipment was still burning a hole in his inventory), but it looked like his luck had run out.  He really did need to see her records, and if Undyne was willing to consult the Royal Scientist about something...well.  It was probably important.

Everyone knew Undyne and Alphys had hated each other for years, ever since that little incident where Alphys had ‘accidentally’ added something experimental to the captain’s tea during a meeting, and Undyne had responded by trying to get the scientist fired.  Neither had ever forgiven the other, though Alphys remained disturbingly obsessed in that odd way she tended to fixate.

Regardless, Sans had a pretty good idea of what Alphys was messing with, and he didn’t blame Undyne for her reaction.  It was one of the reasons he avoided Alphys in general.  If she was trying to dose people with what he thought she was using…

He put his head back onto the sentry station counter.  Dozing through the rest of his shift seemed like a great option.  He almost managed it, too, but a distant bark from Lesser Dog at the next station over woke him up about half an hour before the end of their shift.

Teleporting over, he evaluated the situation.  There was an abundance of dog tracks in the thin layer of snow, but Lesser Dog was...completely fine??

“Heya, LD.  Heard your alert.  What’s up?”

*Lesser Dog is fine!  And not hiding anyone!*

“Uh-huh.  Do I need to get Undyne?”

*No!*

“‘Cause you know she’ll be upset if she has to leave her party to deal with something out here.”

*Lesser Dog is not hiding anyone!*

“LD…”

A shifting under Lesser Dog’s station revealed two white pointed ears and a small black nose against the backdrop of snow.  The nose twitched, then retreated.

Lesser Dog tried - and failed - to look like he hadn’t noticed.

“And who was that?

The sentry gave a huff and woofed something Sans didn’t catch.  A sleek grey female dog and a white puppy wiggled out from under the wooden counter, ears pulled back and tails low.

It took him a moment to recognize Lesser Dog’s mate and pup.  The puppy had been born not long before Frisk fell into the Underground, and was - if Sans recalled correctly - the only survivor from his litter.  He didn’t know how long dog monsters took to grow up, but the pup was still in stripes.  So...longer than actual dogs, then.

“Celebratin’ Takersfaire, then?”

*Yes,* the female woofed.  *Darker Dog was a bad girl for bringing Tiny Dog up here.  Sorry.  Please do not report Lesser Dog to fish-captain.*

The sadistic part of Sans wanted to, just because it was funny watching the dogs squirm.  Besides, he knew Undyne wouldn’t be too hard on them; she needed every available sentry, she didn’t believe in dusting kids, and it wouldn’t make sense to punish Darker Dog when the other two were off the hook.

“Eh, don’t worry about it.  You helpin’ your dad keep an eye out for humans, pup?”

Tiny Dog yipped excitedly.  He clearly shared none of his parents’ concerns about consequences.

“As long as everyone’s safe.  Hey, let me know if you run into any trouble, ‘kay, LD?”

Lesser Dog woofed his surprised agreement and gave his mate a fond lick on the mouth.  Sans immediately retreated back to his own station; the dogs were notoriously shameless when it came to PDA, and he did not need to see that.

He’d just sat down and settled in when his phone buzzed again.  He unlocked it, expecting to see more pictures from Undyne, but was instead greeted by the harsh and imposing features of his younger brother.

Boss 1:44 AM IN YOUR ABSENCE, I HAVE SUCCESSFULLY DEFENDED OUR BOOTH!! *1 picture message received

Boss had decorated the booth himself over the past week, entirely without Sans’s help (for once).  It was black and appeared to be covered in tiny white painted bones of various kinds.  Whatever Boss’s flaws, he had a good eye for style...and a lot of patience with things that held his attention.

An elaborate bone display was set up on and around the booth.  A few plates of something (lasagna, maybe) were barely visible through the latticework, but he couldn’t quite make it out.

You 1:48 AM Nice boss

Boss 1:54 AM I WILL HAVE NONE OF YOUR SLANDER!!! I AM NOT A NICE MONSTER!! I AM CRUEL AND FEARED BY ALL, HUMAN AND MONSTER!! THE GREAT AND TERRIBLE PAPYRUS, SCOURGE OF THE UNDERGROUND!! AND ALSO THE SURFACE!!

You 1:59 AM Right of course

Boss 2:01 AM NATURALLY, I AM CORRECT!!

“I’m here to take over for ya,” said a gruff voice.

Sans pocketed his phone and looked up.  “Heya, Doggo.”

Doggo tensed when he stopped moving.  “What?  Hello?  Ya still here?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Grrrrr.  Get out of here, bone bag.”

Sans smirked and walked back towards the barrier.  As soon as he was clear, he teleported straight home.  He didn’t care if Boss punished him for it; two six-hour shifts back to back were exhausting enough without having to walk an hour back into town.

He fell asleep to dreams of a little skeleton girl in a pink dress who kept burying him in leaf piles, and asking him why he was crying on such a happy day.