Tiny Raven

—Sans—

He hadn’t meant to come home late.

Sans had been forced to stop working his hot dog cart by the arrival of winter. As the first snows melted to slush people stopped going outdoors during the day, and it wasn’t profitable enough for the company to continue running his stand.

He’d secretly been grateful. He could use the extra time to catch up on sleep.

He was selfish.

Less than a week later Papyrus was in a panic about the decrease in household income. Sans had tried to tell him it was okay, they’d figure it out, but that had only drawn his brother’s ire.

Lazy.

They had talked about it a few times, and Sans had been looking around for another job as he could, but he hadn’t found anything yet. It was after the holidays, all of the seasonal work had dried up.

Papyrus had finally lost his patience.

He had dragged Sans out of bed early, barely giving him enough time to get dressed before locking him out.

“COME BACK WHEN YOU’VE FOUND A NEW JOB.”

Sans had been all over the city, filling out applications and hoping to hear back from someone.

Anyone.

He’d been busy.

He lost track of time.

Excuses.

He hadn’t meant to come home late.

“WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!”

Sans kicked off his shoes in the entryway.

“i was lookin’ – looking for a new job, pap,” he explained softly.

Papyrus huffed, stepping in front of Sans to prevent him from getting further into the apartment.

Frustrated and tired, Sans glared up at his brother, only to see the orange tears in the corners of his eye sockets.

Guilt strangled his Soul.

He was such a shitty brother.

He was supposed to be back ten minutes ago. Papyrus must have been worried sick.

After all, with his low hp …

It wouldn’t take much.

“WHY DIDN’T YOU CALL?”

Sans flinched as Papyrus’ voice broke on the last word, looking away.

There was a small pile of dust in the corner.

Strange, for how fastidious Pap was with the cleaning.

Sans closed his eye sockets with a soft sigh.

He didn’t have a good excuse. There was nothing he could say to explain this away. There was only the truth.

Papyrus would not like the truth.

“didn’t have my phone.”

Papyrus had always been fast. Agile. Even as a babybones he had been able to match Sans.

The only reason Sans could beat him was because he had better reaction time.

But between a couple hours of sleep and a day walking the city, he was slow.

Bright stars bloomed in his vision as his head hit the wall with a loud crack.

Far too slow.

Sans would have fallen as his senses came back, had Papyrus not been holding him up by one arm.

“BROTHER.”

His voice was calm, gentle, almost sweet, at odds with the way his hand tightened around Sans’ humerus.

“YOU KNOW YOU’RE TO HAVE YOUR PHONE WITH YOU AT ALL TIMES.”

Sans shrank away from Papyrus’ stern glare, wincing as his grip became painful.

“WHY DIDN’T YOU HAVE IT?”

“i-i-“ Papyrus’ grip tightened at Sans’ stuttering, cutting him off. He clenched his teeth, trying to breathe through the pain.

He couldn’t think of a way to deescalate the situation, and anything he said could set Papyrus off.

He closed his eyes, praying for a miracle. 

“i … ” his voice broke, and he swallowed hard. The dry click was deafening to his ears.

He took a deep breath, trying again.

“… i left it.”

Papyrus’ eyesockets darkened, and his grip on Sans’ arm tightened enough that Sans worried he’d crack the bone.

He fought the whimper that threatened, a lump in his throat.

“WHY.”

Sans struggled with himself. His instincts telling him to fight back, to run, warring with the knowledge that he needed to not struggle.

Struggling would make it worse.

Papyrus’ had flexed.

“i forgot it,” Sans yelped. He looked frantically down the hallway, toward his room. “i was in a rush this morning!”

Orange flushed across Papyrus’ cheekbones as he realized what Sans meant.

As he remembered rushing his brother out of the apartment, not giving him enough time to get everything.

“OH!” He dropped Sans, covering his mouth with both hands. “OH DEAR.”

Sans shuffled back a step, inching his way down the hall.

“WELL!” Papyrus said after a moment. “I SUPPOSE THAT WAS PARTIALLY MY FAULT. … WELL … NO MATTER! THE PAST IS IN THE PAST AND TO BE GREAT WE MUST LOOK FORWARD TO THE FUTURE!” Papyrus flashed a bright smile down at Sans, the entire incident forgiven and forgotten. Sans returned the smile, smaller and with caution.

“WITH THE FUTURE IN MIND … WERE YOU ABLE TO FIND WORK, SANS?”

Sans shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away from Papyrus, unable to meet his brother’s eyelights.

“not yet,” he was ashamed to admit. “i applied everywhere i could. even talked to the company that owns the hot dog stand. they sell hot cocoa for the holidays.”

Papyrus sighed, rubbing at his nasal bone in frustration.

“THAT’S ALRIGHT, BROTHER. MY EXPECTATIONS WERE OBVIOUSLY TOO HIGH! I WAS HOLDING YOU TO MY OWN GREAT STANDARDS!” he laughed loudly, hands on his hips. “I NEVER SHOULD HAVE EXPECTED A LAZYBONES LIKE YOU TO FIND GAINFUL EMPLOYMENT IN A SINGLE DAY!”

Sans forced his smile wider, winking and pointing finger guns at Papyrus.

“got me there, bro. i’ll never be as cool as you.”

“EXACTLY! WE CANNOT ALL ACHIEVE THE SAME GREATNESS OF THE GREAT PAPYRUS! NYEH HEH HEH HEH!”

Sans grinned at his brother, glad Papyrus had forgiven him so easily. For forgetting his phone, for coming home late, for not finding a job …

Paps was so cool.

“GO WASH UP FOR DINNER, SANS,” Papyrus said before heading into the kitchen. He opened the oven door and Sans was assaulted by the acrid smell of something burning. “IT’S NEARLY READY!”

“you got it, pap.”

It had been nearly two weeks since he and Red had exchanged numbers.

He had told Papyrus when he got home.

“WAIT FOR HIM TO TEXT FIRST,” Papyrus had suggested. “YOU DON’T WANT TO SEEM PATHETIC AND EAGER, AND I DON’T WANT YOU BOTHERING MY FRIENDS.”

Sans had waited.

And waited.

And  w a  i   t    e     d .

He had held onto his fraying hope, patiently waiting for a call or a text. For something, some communication from Red.

Sans stared at his phone, lying on the mattress next to him.

By the end of the first week, Sans would’ve accepted a carrier pigeon.

But Red didn’t call. He didn’t text.

He didn’t send any pigeons.

Then, over their dinner of burnt mystery casserole, Papyrus had made a gentle suggestion.

“MAYBE RED WAS JUST BEING … NICE?”

And Sans felt the hope in his Soul fade under the weight of doubt and anxiety. He had explained his concern to Papyrus, but the other hadn’t had many words of comfort to share.

He flipped his phone open, saw no new messages, and closed it again.

He must have annoyed Red at the museum somehow.

But there were too many things to apologize for. He had done so many things wrong.

He’d talked too much, too obsessed with astronomy.

He’d focused on his own interests, not even asking Red what he wanted to do. 

He had taken advantage, letting Red get him a ticket to the planetarium.

He was an idiot.

Sans frowned, as he opened his phone again, navigating to the text Red had sent him.

Red had traded numbers after all of that. 

Why would he do that if he hadn’t meant it?

“text if ya wanna hang out.”

Why would he have said that if he hadn’t meant it.

“HE WAS PROBABLY AFRAID OF MAKING YOU ANGRY.”

Sans sighed, rolling onto his back and staring at his dark ceiling.

He wished he was brave enough to demand answers from Red.

The first outing could have been a prank, something Sans had accepted. Papyrus had warned him that Red’s sense of humor could be mean.

But …

There was no reason for him to ask again.

No reason to invite Sans to the museum.

If that had been part of the same prank …

… Red wasn’t that cruel.

Right?

Was Sans really so horrible that Red had decided to torment him?

“HE DOES JOKE ABOUT HIS STANDARDS BEING LOW, BUT … “

Sans sat up, playing with his phone idly as he thought.

Whether it was a prank or not didn’t matter. Maybe Red had been interested in getting to know him better after the coffee thing went well.

Well … he got what he asked for.

It was obvious when Sans thought about it. Red had just been too … nice to tell Sans that he wasn’t interested anymore.

Too nice to tell Sans the truth.

(To tell him that he was a  stupid, worthless, lazy trash bag)

“… NOBODY HAS STANDARDS THAT LOW.”

Red had been trying to have a good time. Sans had ruined it by being ungrateful and selfish.

Once he’d gotten home, after giving Sans his number, Red would have had time to think out the day. He would have realized how shitty Sans had been. Maybe he had talked to Edge.

Maybe he’d talked to Papyrus. It would explain why he’d brought it up at dinner.

Maybe he didn’t tell anyone, ashamed to have even given Sans a chance.

Sans had been self-interested, self-centered, only caring about his own enjoyment.

He hadn’t even asked Red if he wanted to see anything else in the museum.

Sans resisted the urge to hurl his phone into the trash tornado, instead shoving it into his pocket. He didn’t need to break it further, it was already near-unusable.

It didn’t really matter. Nothing did.

The outcome had been decided and nothing could change it.

Red didn’t want to talk to him anymore.

He sighed, slumping against the wall.

Red probably regretted his decision to exchange numbers as soon as he sent a text to himself. Too late to take back.

He probably hoped Sans wouldn’t contact him.

Sans didn’t want to be annoying.

With a groan he rubbed at his eye sockets with the heels of his hands and focused on his breathing. Trying to calm down.

He didn’t want Papyrus to see he was upset. Didn’t want to bring his brother’s mood down like he always did.

If Papyrus was right – and he rarely wasn’t – then Red would text. If (when) he didn’t it was because he had more important things to do than entertain someone like Sans.

In all likelihood, he did have better things to do than talk to Sans.

In the end, Sans’ best option was to do … nothing.

Fortunately, that was the one thing he was good at.