The Smell of Old Books (Sans/Reader)

Favorite Sweater

Why did you agree to this?

You should've realized that it was an awful idea from the start. Sans probably didn't even like you the same way... You felt as if you were too plain and boring and awkward and obviously way too anxious for anyone to even like you. Much less someone like Sans.

You felt so conflicted. Sans and you had been friends for less than a month, and yet you felt like you had known him longer in some odd way. Almost every time you met him, however, you'd done something cringingly embarrassing. Hell. You spilt an entire bottle of ketchup on both of you. What made you think he would ever like you back?

Even... What made you like him? You didn't necessarily have some fetish for monsters. Wait. No. It wasn't like you had a fetish for anyone. Your social skills were obviously lacking at best, and romance was an endeavor you participated in never. (You had, like, one stupid crush in middle school).

Sans was different. Sans was, well, Sans. He has hilariously awful puns. His easy-going attitude, his midnight texts, his star obsession, his weird ketchup drinking, his dorky cute blush you just realized was a blush...

Oh hell. You knew you were falling for him.

Falling as hard as that damned family-sized ketchup bottle.

You shuffled nervously in front of your slightly cracked bathroom mirror. You felt silly looking at yourself and way, way, way too fancy looking to be making spaghetti. Undyne would be half proud of you, though.

You wore your favorite sweater you saved for special occasions. It was a loose (but still managed to be tighter than your usual attire) pastel pink and white striped sweater that was a bit too long on the sleeves. With it, you wore a flared white skirt along with white tights. You felt nice for once, sure, this was your favorite outfit. But feeling cute didn't keep you from feeling overdressed.

To balance it out, you threw on a pair of scuffed black combat boots. And, for the hell of it, you let your hair down for the first time in years.

_____________

Undyne squealed when she opened up her front door and drew you in for an almost life-threatening tight hug. She literally screamed that you looked hot and irresistible, saying you should wear your hair down more often.

She went to whisper to you that Sans was going to have one extra bone that night. At first, you didn't get it. But soon enough, you felt your face flush and you yelled at her for it.

Although she looked just fine, Undyne said she wasn't ready to go yet. You sat on her couch while you watched Undyne curl her hair, sitting on the ground and glaring into her mirror.

"FRICK," Undyne yelped, pulling the iron away quickly, "I frickin' hate these stupid things!"

You giggled, "Then why are you doing it? I thought we were just going to Papyrus's."

"Alphys and I are going on a midnight date," she brought it back to her head, more cautiously this time.

"Where is Alphys anyways?" You asked curiously, looking around the room for emphasis.

"Work," Undyne replied, "She needed to stay late at the lab today. Something about doing extra tests... That might mean I'll have to go after a few hours. You think you'll be okay?"

No, "Y-yeah," you stuttered awkwardly, not so sure what to expect, "don't you think that Papyrus will understand what's going on though?"

Undyne laughed heartily, "Paps doesn't think of anything besides his spaghetti while he's cooking. Probably why he's a better cook than I am."