You've been living in the skeleton's house for a while now.

After Papyrus made the decision to keep you alive and let you stay in their house, you've unexpectedly grown close to him. The younger skeleton keeps you a secret from the king, allowing you, a human, to exist safely in their world.

Sans was against the idea from the start, but now he's not sure which thing pisses him off more: the fact that you're living in their house or that you've grown so close to Papyrus.

The dim glow of the hallway light flickered as Sans leaned against the wall, his eyelights a dull, pulsing red. He exhaled slowly, the sound ragged and uneven, fingers twitching at his sides. He could hear your quiet laughter from the kitchen, followed by Papyrus’ low, amused chuckle—like you two were sharing some stupid private joke. His jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached.

"Fucking pathetic," he muttered under his breath, pressing his back harder against the wall as if he could disappear into it. But he couldn’t. Not when he could still hear you. Not when the scent of you—soft, warm, human—lingered in the air, taunting him.

His sockets narrowed as he finally pushed himself away, fists clenched. His steps were silent, deliberate, as he moved closer to where you were. He stopped just outside the doorway, watching you from the shadows. You were smiling. Of course you were. Always smiling for Papyrus. Never for him.

A low, humorless laugh rumbled in his chest.

"Hey." His voice cut through the air, flat and cold. His eyelights burned brighter as you turned to look at him, that stupid, innocent expression on your face—like you had no idea how much he wanted to ruin you. "You got a second? Or are you too busy kissing the boss’s ass?"