Inktober Shorts (29) - Yawn

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Summary: Blue is just your average, unintimidating Sans.

Summary: Blue is just your average, unintimidating Sans

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(Warning: This chapter contains swearing.)

Red grouchily stomped his way through the Star Sanses' base while a scowl rested on his skull, and irritation pulsed within his being

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Red grouchily stomped his way through the Star Sanses' base while a scowl rested on his skull, and irritation pulsed within his being. He would give anything to have spent the last ten hours anywhere else.

Alas, it just wasn't meant to be.

Surprisingly, or very unsurprisingly, the weekly meeting far exceeded its allotted time limit thanks to Ink and his inability to stick to a single subject without bursting into song, a completely unrelated tangent, or becoming distracted. Overall, creating a bad time for everyone involved.

And it certainly didn't do any favors for Red's burning hatred of the far, far too brightly colored base and its owners.

However, there was one thing (besides sitting next to his crush, Sci) that made suffering through the whole ordeal worthwhile. The Star Idiots kept some damn good food in the base's kitchen. High-quality stuff, the shit he'd have to fight other monsters for back in his AU.

Lasagna pasta, fresh tomatoes, onions, herbs, nice-ass potatoes for homemade french fries- It had everything he (or his brother) could ever want all in one place and ripe for the taking.

And no one would even get mad if he ran off with anything! Thus, making the situation almost like grocery shopping but better. Especially since he no longer had to put his neck on the line to obtain a measly handful of basil leaves.

Preparing a mental "shopping list," Red entered the kitchen area. An expansive tiled space lined with multiple fridges, cabinets, counters, stoves, other kitchen-y stuff, and several doors leading into vast walk-in pantries.

Blue, his disturbingly cheery doppelgänger, was already there brewing a pot of black coffee and fixing a small snack. A sandwich from the look of it.

He crept past the other and to the opposite side of the kitchen, carefully making sure to keep the untrustworthy monster in his peripheral vision. Then went about stealthily - i.e., blatantly - cramming things in his inventory.

Nothing happened for some time, just his usual thievery.

Until something did.

Blue yawned. And as he did so, his signature blunt-toothed grin split open and revealed several rows of sharp, blade-esque teeth. Which seamlessly slid back together as soon as he finished, like nothing happened at all.

Red gaped at the other. Skull paling while his eye sockets widened, and the fur around his jacket's collar raised like a cat's hackles.

He instinctively stumbled backward, spine hitting a counter. "Jesus fuckin' Christ! What the hell, man?!"

A frown tugged down the corners of Blue's teeth. He turned toward him, saying, "Language, Red! And what are you asking about? You're going to have to be more specific if you want a proper answer."

"Your fuckin', creepy-ass shark jaws, for starters!"

"My 'shark jaws?'" The Underswap Sans questioned, raising a brow.

"Yes! Those unholy chompers of yours put even Horror's bear trap of a mouth to shame!"

Blue blinked, perhaps surprised. "Oh... Well, what do you want to know about them?"

"What do I want to- You, the Sans from what has been dubbed one of the most peaceful alternate universes, have a set - scratch that - multiple sets of teeth to maul someone with. Why?" The Underfell Sans snapped. All the while, carefully inching toward the doorway.

He received a shrug in response and an uncertain, "I'm not sure they've always been that way."

"Sure they have." Red snarked, narrowing his eye sockets. "Anything else I should know about before you give me another soul attack?"

The blue-clad skeleton hummed in thought. "I have a second pair of arms and a third eye socket. Do you want to see them?"

"FUCK NO!"

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