there's no way this won't be great

[skelepun]

Who: Sans + Toriel + Ivan + Frisk
When: April 14th/morning of the 15th
Where: Gardens, bars, and rooms
What: The goat asks out the skeleton. The skeleton gets drunk. The hunk teaches the skeleton how to be a player. The kid learns what a hangover is. Fun for everyone.
Warnings: Drunkenness? Hurt goat feelings? Ivan?


gardens; closed to toriel

There are a few similarities between the gardens here and the Waterfall marshes. Despite every logical impulse, it is easy to pretend for a little while that the sky stretching above isn't a cavern ceiling or ship's hull. With just a hair of concentrated effort, those trappings of reality melt away into something wholly imagined. The glitter of crystals turn to stars, and the shine of light off metal becomes the sun.

It's peaceful. With the feeling of grass poking up between the gaps in his bones, Sans can't remember when he fell asleep and isn't keen on waking just yet. Even the warmth feels like the genuine article, soaking into his bones like a heat lamp. As reality drips in clearer, bit by bit, Sans notices that warmth is located to his back specifically. Another few seconds remind him that the grip around his rib isn't, in fact, a furry blanket -- rather, it's a furry arm, pressed in close and in a position he definitely didn't remember falling asleep in.

So much for staying asleep.

"Whoa, uh." He leans up and away, rubbing at his eye socket and feeling like the world's littlest spoon. "Hey, T." Nudge nudge. "Wake up, Tori. Think we conked out."

bar; closed to ivan

Well. That went well.

Toriel was many things, and kind might top the list. Maybe if she were to get angry at him, or ask for an explanation, or even react beyond quiet understanding, Sans would feel less low right now. He would be so content to coast along as best friends, full satisfied by that arrangement. Companionship without complications or strings. Sans' favorite kind.

She was just so understanding. Ironic, considering Sans understood only about 10% of his own reaction. Even more ironic, the person he wishes he could talk to about this, the person he's sure would have all the answers he needs, is Toriel herself.

Welp. Sans would just have to resort to his second best friend: ketchup. Maybe Miles would be back tonight. Sans wasn't hopeful -- he might not have ears, but he kept them to the walls all the same, and word was Miles had some further recouping to do -- but today was a day of surprises.

Of course, Sans was wrong about everything except for the surprise part.

"'Sup, Ivan." He nods, sliding up onto a stool. "Usual, please. Extra vinegary, if you have it."

nomo deck; closed to frisk

If Sans didn't know any better, he would be sure there were hamsters skittering around in his skull. Hamsters with tiny hammers tied to their tiny feet, pounding with each frantic footfall.

Hamster hammers. There's a pun in there somewhere, but it's a testament to how prominent the ache in his head is that Sans can't think of one for the life of him.

He had a reason for setting his alarm this morning, but pulling the covers over his skull takes precedent. Whatever or whoever it is can wait. Sans has the hangover of the century coming on and he's not about to miss a moment of this groundbreaking personal event.

Ow.

Comments

[skelepun]

"Can't what? Scrapbook? Knit a sweater? Play the flute? 'Cuz I'll have you know, I'm an excellent flautist." He enunciates the word, as if trying to put a very different word in Ivan's mind. It's just too easy.

Still, torturing the guy only goes so far. At the end of the day, Ivan seems game to help, even if it is in his own unique way.

"Anyway, I think the world you're looking for is 'bone.' And sure I can. But that's not the problem."

1/???

[skelepun]

At first, Sans laughs. It's instinctual -- Toriel tells a funny joke, Sans laughs, and around they go until they get sick of laughing. That last part usually never happens, which is just fine by Sans.

Besides, that's a pretty great set up. Skeletons, carbon dating, that works out to one hilarious zinger.

2/?

[skelepun]

And he's just gonna keep laughing, 'cuz man. The more he sits on it, the funnier it gets.

3/?

[skelepun]

Yep. Still suuuper funny.

He certainly isn't chuckling and avoiding eye contact for any reason other than good ol' mirth.

4/4

[skelepun]

Sans takes a breath, skull sunk low into his hoodie. He's not laughing anymore, though there's still a quiet chuckle in his voice when he finally does speak.

"I, uh... I dunno if that's a good idea, T."

these two are a mess, my god

[inruins]

Throughout the laughter, Toriel waits. She waits. She will admit only to herself some uncertainty, maybe hurt at the laughter.

"I see." She laces her fingers together, it is obvious she's disappointed, but she offers Sans a slight smile anyway. "I... well, if you are not interested, I understand. I do like you, romantically, but I would not trade our friendship either. If that makes sense?"

[skelepun]

"It's not--y'know, it's not that clear cut." Toriel is objectively a beautiful monster, heck -- she's a boss monster. Even more than that, she was smart, funny, tough as nails, funny, and could kick his ass if she really wanted to. Not to mention funny. Sans never was one to feel attraction one way or the other, but as far as companions went, he would be hard pressed to do better than her. When it comes to leagues, she's at least several thousand leagues outside his.

That's the kind of wordplay Toriel would love, and Sans wants to share it with her. Instead, he fiddles with his finger bones.

"We're always gonna be friends, Tori, you know that. And it's not you, it's me."

[inruins]

She isn't upset with Sans, or angry- he has a right to answer how he wishes. "I'm glad to hear that. I wouldn't want to scare you away with this." Apparently the both of them have drifting gazes in the moment.

"I just... well, I had to ask." She laughs, a bit awkwardly rubbing the back of her neck. I shouldn't have asked settles somewhere in the back of her mind. She brushes it aside to keep smiling as she looks back up at the skeleton. She can be disappointed in her own time.

Her gaze drops to her lap for a moment. "If you do not feel the same, it is perfectly alright. If it is not clear cut, it means- it's better to leave it this way..."

[skelepun]

"Yeah." Sans nods, fingers interlocking at the back of his neck. This awkwardness, it's unbearable. He's never felt this with Toriel, not even when they were nothing more than a few mysterious voices drifting through a door frame.

"And, y'know, I do love you, T. Always have, always will."

[inruins]

The awkwardness is uncomfortable, a little weird. She won't hide from that.

"I am... glad to hear that. I love you too, my friend." She hesitates before reaching out to touch his shoulder. The touch is as friendly as ever, fond. Meant as reassurance nothing has changed between them.

Her hand drops away after a moment, a light attempt at humor falling from her lips. Self deprecation is easy to spin out, easy to rely on to break the awkwardness. "Thank you for at least hearing this old woman out."

[whatdidisay]

Ivan looks increasingly more incredulious until Sans cuts to the chase and then, even though he knows he doesn't want the answer-- "Sure you can?" Good God. "Nevermind, I don't want to know." His sense of self-preservation is still working, Ivan's pleased to find.

Returning to his own drink and downing most of it in one swallow, Ivan is finally ready to tackle this. "So? If that's not it, what is?"

[skelepun]

"Has anyone ever told you that you're a real prick?" Sans was still beaming, despite the passive aggressive edge to his voice. "Though I guess you'd take the association as flattery. Anyway--

"Haven't you ever had a best friend who wants to take things somewhere you're not sure you want to go?"

[whatdidisay]

"No," Ivan says, secure in the knowledge that no one has, and most likely, no one will. Anyway, the insults everyone tends to go for are things like idiot. At least Miles and the rest of his family does. Speaking of--

"Er. My cousin? He drags me plenty of places I don't want to go." Somehow, though, Ivan doesn't think that's where he's going with this. "But probably not like what you're implying."

[skelepun]

"Yeah? Well, I don't claim to know much about how humans fraternize with their cousins." Sans drummed his fingers against his cheekbone, weighing the logic of seeking true blue advice from a man so profoundly... well, Ivan. "But what I'm talking about is taking your best friend on a date. Kinda a sticky situation. And she's got fur, so, y'know. Sticky's a problem."

[whatdidisay]

"You need to get out, meet more Vor," Ivan counters. Ah, what a bunch of inbred individuals they are. He's got a lot going against him, it's true, but some things for him. Or so he'd like to think. "Do you want to date her? I mean, you said you weren't sure so I'm going to guess a soft sort of maybe. Why not?"

He highly doubts it's a fear of marriage or commitment or a sticky issue.

[skelepun]

"Eh... maybe." Sans grunts, rolling enough that his eyes glimpsed into the cruel light of morning. Or at least, ship lights. "I'm kinda in the midst of a grown up skullache, here, kiddo. They can take a while to wear off."

[skelepun]

"Well, she's divorced." Sans would feel bad about airing Toriel's dirty laundry so bluntly, but, well. Tori never showed much, if any, regret or remorse about her separation from Asgore. If anything, she might take issue if he didn't mention that. "And she's got a whole gaggle of kids, several of which probably aren't too used to point number one."

Sans finishes his drink off, trying to remember if it's the second or third he's been served. Even if Ivan was rusty with his barkeep conversation, he sure had the bar-part down.

"Anyway, romance isn't something I've got a lot of experience with. Bad jokes, hanging out, I've got all that down. Never really had the occasion to practice my kissing. Not the lip kind, anyway."

[whatdidisay]

Divorced women are a lot of fun, Ivan wants to say. He and Lady Donna had a great time. But then again, Lady Donna never had any children with her -- what was it? Two husbands at this point? He really should see what's going on with her these days when he gets back to Barrayar.

Ivan slides him another drink as Sans continues, happy to help keep this up. He knows what a bartender is supposed to do, dammit. Having learned his lesson from asking about sex, Ivan keeps his mouth shut about how kissing works, although there's the light of skepticism in his eyes.

"If she's the one wanting a relationship," Ivan says as he pours himself another drink, "then why is her being divorced an issue -- she's clearly over it. Except for the kids, I guess, but they're kids. I've heard they're capable of getting over upsets better than adults." He does not Do Children, as a general rule. They're monsters -- resilient little monsters, but awful all the same.

Taking a drink, Ivan frowns, trying to work Sans' problem over in his head. "So the only thing that's stopping you is-- the fact she's divorced and has kids and you don't know how to do the romance thing? I can't help with the first two, but I can help with the last one." Not that Ivan's been big on solid, long lasting relationships. But he knows the steps to get there well enough, thanks. Enough that plenty of women thought he'd be willing to -- ugh -- commit. Permanently. He's twenty five, he can wait to get married until he's much older, thanks. If ever.

[skelepun]

"Heh, well thanks for not pulverizing this bag of bones for being a big coward." Sans grins, giving her a squeeze in return, trying a little too hard to strike back as if the question never left her lips in the first place.

"You wanna go get lunch or something? I donated some of the snails from that giant crate to the kitchen, maybe Loki's fried 'em up or something."

[inruins]

She blows out a low laugh at that, "Oh you're fine. Don't worry about it." She means it. Even if Sans is sliding into comfortable denial- she can at least move to that familiar beat. Denial is very... Sans. The fact he hasn't run off is better than she expected.

"If you would like to. Fried snails would be lovely."

[skelepun]

If Ivan saw fit to voice that opinion, Sans would be quick to remind him that just one of them is a monster -- the other two are quite human. And in one case, quite murderous. Also he killed that one. Hence his complication.

But if their conversation so far was anything to go by, an evening drinking with Ivan Vorpatril isn't the place for complication. Sans keeps that particular wrinkle to himself.

"Oh yeah? I didn't know you gave lessons. Whaddya charge?"

[skelepun]

"Great."

There's a beat of silence that stretches out longer than it should, their usual amicable friendliness soured by Sans' fidgeting. Of all the times for any part of him to be overactive, it has to be his mind?

"Can I meet you there? I think there's a work thing I forgot to do."

[inruins]

For all her trying, all their trying to shift to before she asked- it doesn't seem to work. Toriel's hands tightened into loose fists against her knees. "...Certainly. I'll see you there in a bit then."

So much for her assumption he might not run away.

[gainedlove]

That admission makes Frisk frown, and they wriggle themself a little more upright to reach and put a tiny hand across Sans's forehead. He doesn't feel warmer than normal...

"Did you get sick? D'you need medicine?"

[whatdidisay]

"For you," Ivan says with a gesture, "free."

See how nice of a guy he is, Sans?