The Smell of Old Books (Sans/Reader)

Spilt Ketchup

   The only person that you knew would go grocery shopping at midnight was, of course, yourself.

You still felt exhausted and worn out, despite all the coffee you had downed mere minutes ago. Work was exhausting. Well. It was more like the ride to get back to your crappy old apartment complex was the exhausting part.

Since you didn't really have enough money to get a car, you relied heavily on the subways and your own feet. The subways, while crowded, stuffy, and long, were reliable and cost-efficent. Not with your own money, of course. Dad always bought you a year-round subway pass for Christmas.

It was nice too. Not really having to focus on anything for an hour or so. You didn't mind the subway, it was just that sometimes it got too crowded for your liking (or anyone's, really).

It only bothered you sometimes that you didn't have a car.
This was definitely one of those times. (The subway ride had been delayed for about an hour, dropping you off at your stop around 11:30.)

You pushed the small cart from aisle to aisle, aimlessly wondering. You had already decided to keep the bookstore closed for the entire weekend – a feat you hadn't done for years. It wasn't like you really had someone to close the store for, and some extra cash always sounded good to anyone.

The reason why you were shopping so late in the night when you had tomorrow off wasn't for any special reason. It was just because you were lazy and didn't want to get out of your house tomorrow. Except for the potluck.

You were a bit nervous thinking about it; you hadn't really been to any sort of party since high school and that was years ago.
You desperately hoped you wouldn't make a fool out of yourself and do something dumb. And you hoped that Undyne's friends would like you. If they didn't, well, maybe Undyne would stop caring for you as well...

Sighing, you tried to make yourself stop thinking about all the negatives that could happen. It wasn't going to make anything better.
Instead, you tried focusing on what you wanted to make.

Mom had always been the better cook around the house, while you and dad just watched and ate. You had her old recipe books, dusty and old tucked away on a bookshelf.
You remembered a few favorite dishes that you loved as a child, but nothing really screamed out for you to make. It was a first impression, after all. The best dish to make would be something that you could easily make a lot of.

Damn, that reminded you, you totally forgot to even ask how many people were going to be there.

You groaned. How much am I supposed to even make?

It would be better if you made more than needed, although you hardly ate anything as is. Leftovers might mean bad news, especially if it was something gross.

Leave it up to you to over think a simple potluck.

Then it hit you.

Whenever your family did something involving food, your mother always made pumpkin casserole. It was an easy dish, you had even helped her out making it before. You even made it all by yourself one Thanksgiving.

You smiled slightly to yourself, albeit a bit tiredly. You wished the coffee would kick in.

Although you weren't making the most exciting or unique dish, it still (might?) come out tasty. Besides, it wasn't easy to screw up a casserole of all things.

You picked out the ingredients for the dish, picking up items like canned pumpkin and flour. While shopping for the items, you did a little bit of grocery shopping for yourself.
Which mainly included a lot of frozen items and hot cocoa. You could hardly be bothered to really make a huge dinner for your party of one.
And hot cocoa was a wonderful godsend.

You were almost completely finished with your groceries before you decided to head towards the sauces isle.

There wasn't anything too interesting or eye-catching in here, you just needed to grab a bottle of mayo for sandwiches and other stuff later.

A thing that was eye-catching, however, was the other person in the aisle.

It was a skeleton, a sight that you hadn't really gotten used to yet. He wore cerulean, over-sized jacket along with black gym shorts that had a white stripe in the middle. To finish the look, he wore a pair of pink slippers.
You almost giggled a little bit at his slippers, but then you'd thought about how you'd probably do the same thing at this time of day. And also, you wouldn't really want someone to laugh at you for doing so.

You noticed he was on his tippy-toes, reaching for a bottle of ketchup on the top shelf. He was a bit shorter than you, but only by an inch or so.

Hating be short, you felt a need that you didn't completely understand.

You walked up next to him, trying to grab for the same bottle he was only moments ago. He stood normally and you could feel him staring at you. You felt too nervous to even return a glance, let alone say anything to him.

You heard him chuckle a bit, a low but almost nice sounding voice, as you stood on your tip toes as well.

"i guess we both need to ketchup on our height?" he said, watching you grab the bottle of tomatoes.

His pun surprised you as your fingers caught the very edge of the bottle. You turned to look at him as you accidentally chucked the ketchup, hard, on the ground between you both.

The ketchup bottle broke open, exploding strands of ketchup on both you. It landed everywhere – on your face, on his skull, in your hair, all over both of your pants, and even onto the shelf on the other side.

You looked at him in horror and you both seemed to be too shocked to say anything.

Finally you realized what you just did and almost screamed, "Oh my god, oh my god. I am so, so, so sorry! I-I didn't know that it was gonna fall like that but I guess it was my fault because I kind of chucked it down on the ground, huh? Oh my god, I'm so sorry."
He seemed surprised by your rambling, his eyes (eyesockets?) widening, "hey, kiddo, it was just an accident. it's-"

You accidentally cut him off, to anxiety ridden to really understand anything besides your feelings, "Do, like. Do you want me to pay for some new clothes? I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry... You probably don't want to go home with ketchup all over you – I'm so sorry!"

He finally cut you off, "hey, don't worry about it. it's not anything to get too saucey about."
Your anxiety filled nerves laughed at his joke, a bit harder than you would usually, "I-I... That was pretty good."

He smiled brightly at you, "what can i say? i've got quite the funny bone."

You smiled back at him and laughed, you felt your hands shaking nervously, "I. I'm really sorry about spilling ketchup all over you."
Taking a deep breath, you shook your head, "I can pay for some new clothes if you'd like. It wouldn't be a big deal... I, I just know I wouldn't want to go home in ketchup soaked clothing."

He shook his head back at you, "kiddo, look. you've got ketchup all over you, even more so than i do. besides, i love ketchup. so it's no big deal."
You felt so anxious, adrenaline pumping through your veins, "T-Thank you. I'll feel bad if I just leave without even doing anything in apology though."

"m name's sans. sans the skeleton," he held his hand out to you, his grin plastering his whole face.
You stared at him for a moment, confused.

"i might be more dead by the time you shake my hand," Sans joked around, trying to ease the tension you had.
Cautiously, you shook his hand. It was bony, of course, but not neccesarily in a bad way. It kind of felt like someone's hand who worked in construction - callused and rough. It was nice.

"My name's _____," you smiled nervously, only then realizing how sweaty your palms must've been, "It's nice to meet you, Sans."

The name felt familiar, but you really had no clue to who this monster was. A nagging feeling of nostalgia kept coming up to mind but you pushed it away.

You only knew two things about him anyways. He was way too nice to you for spilling ketchup everywhere on him and that he probably really liked puns.

"_____, huh? nice," he said awkwardly, and it was only then you could tell he was probably just as anxious as you were.
"I guess it would hurt to be fibulaing to you at this point," you laughed.

He looked at you for a second before chuckling again, letting go of your hand, "i don't know, it might be pretty humerus."

"I was about to offer to grab some more ketchup for you, but it might not be a great idea?" You smiled at him widely, feeling a bit too giddy for someone who just spilled at least forty ounces of ketchup on yourself and a stranger. It was probably just the coffee kicking in.

He laughed again, and you felt an odd sensation of wanting to make him laugh again and again (what could you say? The skeleton had a nice laugh), "i guess us shorties have to make do with smaller bottles of ketchup."

Your smile wouldn't fade away, it just kept growing, "Sadly, it seems... I'd hate to ask a personal question, but why did you need a family sized bottle of ketchup?"
"i love ketchup," he smiled.

You kept laughing for some odd reason, feeling a bit silly.

"look, kiddo, if you really feel that bad about spilling a bottle of condiments on us," Sans seemed to look a bit nervous, "you could always, well. give me your number?"

Was he hitting on you? You thought as you felt your entire face turn red, almost as red as the tomato sauce all over your pants.

"i-i mean, like," He awkwardly stuttered out, uncomposed, "if you want to. it would be nice to talk to a fellow pun lover."
You grabbed your pocket out of your phone and took a deep breath, handing it to the skeleton, "We should start a club together. Call it the punnies."

He laughed as he held his phone out towards you. You both exchanged phone numbers and you felt just a little bit silly. You hadn't really heard of anyone exchanging numbers after literally ruining both of your clothes.

You gave your phones back and you noticed a small blue hue on Sans's face but you didn't comment on it. Instead you looked at your phone and held in a snort, "Oh my gosh, you put yourself as the Sansmaster?"

Sans looked at you and smiled shamelessly, "what can i say? at least i'm not boring and put my name as _____."
You couldn't help the ugly snort that came out this time, feeling like a little high school girl all over again. You even stuck your tongue out at the skeleton, "The Sansmaster, oh my gosh. That is definitely one way to get to know someone."

"if you're saying puns are the way to go," Sans winked, "i've always got a femur."

Giggling, you smiled widely, "Tibia honest, I feel like that might be the better way for you to go. The Sansmaster is so – dorky."
He shrugged, a smile plastered so dorkily on both of your faces.

You couldn't help it. You were almost positive that the reason you were so giggly was because of the adrenaline mixed with the coffee.

Sans and you walked around the store, asking for attendance with the ketchup mishap. Both of you ended up helping the employees with the clean up (It was easy to tell how grateful they were for it). You talked for hours on end until you finally realized it was three in the morning and almost all of your frozen items were thawed.

You instead just bought the items for the pumpkin casserole along with your precious hot cocoa, as you assumed grocery shopping could wait another week or two.

Both of you left the store and parted your ways, although Sans had seemed a bit hesitant at first – wanting to walk you home even. However, you felt a little silly and declined despite his persistence. You both ended up bidding your farewells at the grocery store with a promise to talk to each other again.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you fell asleep with a smile on your face.