Reset {UNDERTALE}

New Pal

                Time, for the first time in what had to be years, marched on. The days turned into weeks, weeks into months. Slowly, the initial thrill of being alive faded for Sans. Of course he was still grateful and focused on the present, but he wasn't Papyrus; even four resets ago, he wasn't given to being giddy, and after the initial burst of joy, he'd mellowed into a slightly happier version of himself. There was, of course, always the worry that today would be the day another reset happened, but for every anxious glance at the calendar, there was a wave of relief at the sight of a new day.

He still went to the door, of course. By this point, he and the lady didn't swap as many jokes, but that was only because they'd both used up their best material. So they talked, Sans sitting in the snow and leaning against the door, imagining that she did the same on her side. Truth be told, he didn't know a thing about her life, aside from her love of awful jokes, cooking, and teaching. But still, it felt like she was the closest to...being like him. Obviously without the resets, but her voice had the faintest bit of sadness in it despite her cheeriness. It was kind of terrible to admit, but...it made him feel a little better that someone else had that sadness. He didn't feel quite so alone.

And, in addition, she was probably the second-kindest monster he'd met (Papyrus, of course, was first.) After joking about living on hot dogs because of Papyrus' new love of cooking and his lack of skill, he'd come the day after to find a slice of pie, still steaming slightly, set just outside the door. He gave a little, amused laugh, then knocked on the door.

"Knock kno-."

"Who is there?" She cut in excitedly. Sans laughed.

"Noah."

"Noah who?"

"Noah-nything about this pie?"

She laughed brightly. "It is for you, my friend! As much as I admire you encouraging your brother, I know that first-time chefs do not always make good choices with their ingredients. I hope you enjoy butterscotch."

"I love the b'scotch." Sans took the plate and sat up against the door. He took a bite (and was grateful that she couldn't see; he still wasn't quite sure what it looked like when he ate, but he assumed it was pretty terrifying.) and immediately melted against the door in bliss. After weeks of spaghetti and 'dogs, this was heaven. He swallowed with a laugh. "So you tell the best jokes and you can cook like no one else. Lady, I am smitten."

He could practically hear the blush in her laugh. "Do not tease an old woman like that!"

"Listen, there are two things I never tease about: bad jokes and good food. I would marry you right here if I could."

She let out another flustered laugh. "You do not even know my name!"

Sans swallowed another bite of pie before, very carefully, replying, "Well...you could tell it to me."

"No." Again, the sudden firmness surprised him. "It is not something that needs to be shared."

Sans swallowed. "That's fine. I get it."

An uncomfortable silence stretched between them. Sans picked at the pie, and he could hear claws tapping awkwardly on the door. She was the first to speak.

"I...am sorry, but...it really is—"

"Don't apologize. Look, I really do get it." Sans tilted his head back with a small huff. "I've got plenty of stuff I don't want to bring up either."