Disgusted arousal burned through you, as you shoved your chair back. Forcing Sans to stumble and fall out of your wan onto the couch.

More than aware of the underworld proclivity for Levels of Violence. Having narrowly escaped it yourself, you were not going to invite anything of the sort while you still lived. Leaving the main house, Intending to go to the doghouse and wait before the Bossman came home to 'train his new attack human.'

Sans watched you pass on by him then grinned. Rolling over to follow you. Observing as always, as you tucked the journal back in your "toy bin." Ignoring all the dog toys as they squeeked.

"heh," Sans snickered.

"What?" You snapped.

"i was gonna take you out to Chillby's, instead of suffering bossman's lasagna." That toothy grin widened. And you knew what was coming. "but if you wanna be a bitch that badly~"

"Oh my god shut the fuck up Sans." You threw the bounce ball at his head. Which he easily side-stepped.

When his hand slipped out of his jacket pocket, you could only yelp when his gravity magic coiled around your soul. Unbothered by your own weight. The red smoke matching the little ball of light poised at the tip of his pointer and middle fingers. Levitating you behind him as he walked just a bock away.

"I'm not hungry fucker!"

"i can't just lock you up in the doghouse and leave you there all alone." His skull turned fully around to snicker at you. Still walking forward. "no matter how many *bones* i give you. so you're going for a walk."

The noise you let loose caught the attention of no less than 10 rabbits loitering around the bar. Speedily dodging your flailing limbs as this daily routine repeated itself again. Weaving through the card players and hushed conversation as all the lower monsters bowed down to a boss.

"hey chillz." Sans greeted the ice elemental. Slipping into the well worn seat of his while depositing you right next to him. The red haze smoke dispursing at last. "we'll have the usual."

Not a word was spoken, nor an icy spark splattered to the counter. Just a pair of frost covered glasses sliding across the counter. Followed by a bottle of mustard, and some lemonade.

"thanks."

Chillby nodded. Always coming and going with the sound of ice or chimes clinking together as he left for the kitchen.

With a heavy sigh you draped over the countertop. Wincing at the punching smell and sound of mustard being squirted directly from the bottle into Sans' mouth. The skeleton holding no care or class about it. But at least there was no forced conversation yet. That took up to three bottles at least.

"say toots." You made sure to swallow your cucumber soup quick. Tense, bracing for whatever stupid pun or invasive question would come out of his mouth. "you ever dance?"

Your head whipped over so fast you felt your neck pop. The only sound that managed to freak the skeletons out. Though Sans only shifted his head into the fur of his jacket for comfort. Hardly hiding the red flush that now brushed over his face, from nasal bones to zygomatic.

"What?"

"dance doll. ya ever dance before."

Oh yeah sure, tooooootally danced before. Got asked out a lot too. As a prank. And if they followed through, we're quick to mock the excess of your body or oogle the only two parts any human ever seemed to care about.

Sure, you danced....

"Does this look like a body made for dancing?" You leaned back and gestured to your fatness. A wave of shame and memories of school just piling against your self control. Forcing the 'collected bitchface' you kept around these monsters. No weaknesses could be seen after all. Kill or be killed.

"looks like a body made for livin', and you're not looking too lively tonight."

Before you could jump into the argument brewing. Or react at all to what could be an insult, praise, flirt, and innuendo all at once. Sans stood from his seat and walked over to the jukebox. Slipping in a few random coins, a bottle cap, and a mood ring. Leaving you stewing in questions he seemed deadset on ignoring. After all, why would your soul guardian give a flying fuck about your life, when his job was just to take it someday?

"hey everysoul, since we're all in neutral territory-"

The lights shut out in the bar. With a horrible second sound of scraping, platters and the helps of other partons. You worried what you would see when Sans' dramatic ass was done murdering monsters. Instead of piles and piles of dust. A spotlight appeared over the skeleton now standing alone in the center of the barren floor. Standing in some starting slant pose you vaguely remember from some MTV videos. The floor which was normally coated in a thin sheen of ice (or maybe wax hard to tell). Now boasted square lights beneath the cleared surface.

"why don't we live like it for once?"

The jukebox in the corner lit up with a kaleidoscope of colors befitting the age of its design. A funky little synthetic tone rang out with a bass in a bouncy tune. Sans began moonwalking in place. Some of the hounds yipped with joy and joined in, sychronizing with the beat after some circles and jumps. There were hoots and hollars from the booth patrons. And a magical blue-sparkling pop in front of everyone's faces revealed another round of drinks.

🎵Well, you can tell by the way I use my walk I'm a woman's man, no time to talk 🎵

The scene was just so absurd. So unlike the horrors and death and violence you knew this place to be. You gwaffed loud and raised a glass with the other cheers. Momentarily forgetting your own dancing woes as the disco song went on. Floor lights blinking their hues.

Chillby returned with some ice cream. Your favorite.

"I've never seen him dance since we fell." The frost elemental remarked.

Your tongue was mid swipe on the sweet frozen cream. Chillby was quite the chatterbox, but never really reminiscent. More snapping at clients to behave themselves or taking orders.

"Didn't know he danced at all." You commented. Watching this skeleton easily do a wave. Despite the apparent boney limitations.

"There's a lot of things we haven't done for centuries. Takes a lot of courage to show any sort of joy now."

Joy?

You watched the elemental return to the kitchen. Then returned to the dance floor. Picking your ice cream thoughtfully as you watched these -normally viscious- monsters enjoy themselves. The music switching over to some jazzy swing. Their enjoyment bright and infectious. As if a thousand years of darkness and suffering had never happened. As if their situation -and your own by extension- wasn't fucked up.

This. . . This is what monsters wanted to be.

Red eyes caught onto you as you finished up your treat. Bright and low lidded as you idly licked your fingers clean. Sans attention was ever a mix of guarded hostility or blatant lust. But never that. That look was for Hollywood as far as you were concerned. Not selfishly for yourself.

With a glow and whip fast red smoke, you felt gravity shift as his hand waved you in. The ice floor doing nothing to help your digging heels. Horrified by the history of bullying and associated dancing. Dragged out none the less on the dance floor, until boney hands were squeezing your plump sides.

"Hey there sweetheart," Sans leaned in. The smoke pupetteering your body in this new dance. "come here often?"

"Seriously? You can do better than a generic pick-up line." You knew better than to fight his gravity. Though your body protested some angles, he didn't push you beyond your limits, or made it lewd. Minus the shitty situation, this was actually kind of fun.

"heh, you saying i should up my game?"

"I'm saying you can do better."

"Challenge Accepted."

"Did you just capitalize both- EEK!"

Lifted high above his head, you felt yourself spinning, dipped, swung, and dancing again. Never left a moment without the undead touch. Your back, your waist, your legs, arms, face. Nothing went untouched. Song after song blurring as the exhilaration of dancing burned away worries, fears, and depressing memory. Though somewhere between "A Change is gonna Come" by Sam Cooke and "Shake your Booty" by KC and the Sunshine Band. Sans had had enough. Beads of sweat dotted his skull, and you were dragged with him back to your stools to rest. While a new crowd filled the dance floor.

"hey, chillz! you got that everclear?" Sans requested.

"Oh god no." You knew well where this was going. Some dumb challenge and a long hangover in the morning.

"what? you said my game was weak. might as well test that assumption on the liquor." His eyes wiggled suggestively. "or are ya too chicken to test it?"

"You're gonna be slurring and drunk after the third shot." You bet. Grabbing the cold shot glass Chillby summoned to your corner.

"and you're gonna fall into my arms, fawning the cute way you do."

"Cute huh?"

"any squishy flesh is cute to a skeleton."

"Oh you ass."

Sans winked as he downed the first quarter shot Chillby poured for you both. Chasing his down with another shot of mustard while you hacked and slammed the counter top.

"if i didn't see you down that shot, i would've guess you were choking on a cock doll."

"As if you're immune to the burn." You quipped back. "Could put you in a crematorium if its not hot enough."

"heh, just a ghost pepper will do...though i'll be nice and just ask for a jalapeños for your sake."

"Jackass."

"Hey, an upgrade!"

Another shot. Another coughing fit. Both your faces were flushed with alcoholic heat. Though Sans was ahead with the three previous bottles of mustard.

"ya know, i've always wondered what human taste like."

"Next attempt."

"i didn't even finish!"

"Don't need to, to know its a sex invite. Next shot."

The next quarter was poured. Your esophagus protested hard to the fire. Your mind buzzing over in a fast buzz turning tipsy. Without a word Chillby set a few slices of lime which you used to ease the pure ethanol flavor on your tongue. While Sans sank deeper to the boozy effects.

"if you're in a humerus mood, we can hold hands while walking on a hamate."

"Is that a bone pun?!" You snorted.

"three puns for the price of one. gotta stay within my radius" Sans leaned on the bar more. Tucking his skull on his hand while he watched you puzzle and parse the puns themselves.

"When did you learn japanese."

"alphys."

"She's an anime fan?"

"the other one."

"Oh..."

"'-taku."

"I never would have guessed!"

It was easy slipping in and out of conversation. Though somewhere between shot four for you and nth for Sans, the game was lost to mutual puns and mocking commentary. Bitching about anything. Cackling over stupid shit. You had smartfully swapped further booze for water. Though Sans managed to finish the everclear on his own. Thr bet forgotten. Somewhere between the poker dogs finishing their games. And the croaking of froggits. You finally had enough.

Stretching your hands over your head, you groaned as your spine popped. Moaning in delight. Feeling the lightest you've ever been since going on that hike. When you looked over Sans was just watching you. Though his eyes were too low to be appropriate.

"Eyes up perv." You commanded with no real venom. Feeling rather warmed at the lavacious attention you've never gotten before.

"patella the truth: i could watch your fat all day."

You scoffed. And there flew the warm fuzzy feeling of his attention.

"i'm being serious sugar, you're a gorgeous human. well worth the cussing you dish out."

"I'm going back to the house." You announced. Leaning on the bar while you got your balance. Unsure how to handle all his backhanded praising.

"eh-" Sans sat up. Phelanges digging to the wood a moment as he swayed farther back than intended. Releasing only when his world likely stopped spinning with his eyes. "good call bosslady."

Realizing he was drunk enough for balance problems. You huffed while tucking yourself in his side. Grabbing and throwing his arm over your shoulder so he could lean on you for support. The endless smile of his was gone as his drunken mind processed your action. But when comprehension hit. His smile was smug and bright.

"What?" You were surprised to feel how light we was. Figuring his "mass" and apparent large volume was related to magic shenanigans. He was very warm.

"when i said you'd fall in my arms, i did not expect it to be willingly."

You let go of his arm. Feeling his light weight slide off your back. Though, as he face planted on the icy flooring: his hand managed to snag your shirt on the way down. Dragging you with him with a yell. At the last minute there was a twist. Making you land over his broad body with a rough 'oof'. Rather than the floor. His arms wrapping throughly around your back. Squeezing your ass and tracing the dimples and hidden curving bones.

"Let me go you little shit!"

"sssssshhhhhh, i'm sleeping."

"No your not, get up!"

As you finished that sentence you noticed the times new roman Z's floating up from his open and slowly drooling mouth. His arms were unforgiving around your back. And privately.....He was not the worst mattress to lay on top of in the world. With the help of booze, exhaustion, and a surprisingly warm and soft skeleton. You fell fast asleep with him. Tucking your head over his soul where it hummed gently in his ribcage.