Transmission, Intermission - [Sans x Reader | Old Version!]

2 - Hey, mami

"Jump in," he says, opening the front passenger door. "I'll take ya to Tori's place so you can talk with her about it."

"What makes you think I'll hitch a ride from a stranger?" you ask, remaining in place. "And with questionable music, to top it all off."

While you're usually not one to make shallow judgements based on taste, you can't ignore how obvious he's being right now. There's a bell of warning ringing at the back of your head with the low rumble and suggestive beat of the song playing on the radio, and his beyond relaxed driving pose. Only one hand's on the wheel, the other hung over the open car window. He's either pretending or he's for real about his attitude, something hard to tell with how little you knew him. "C'mon, lady. We know our names and you know some of my past, don't ya? I'd say we're acquaintances, at the very least."

"I must refuse." You cross your arms, pointing at the minivan parked not far behind him. "I've got my own car to drive in."

The skeleton's gaze follows yours, his grin almost stretching when he gets a good look at where you're pointing at. "A minivan?" He snickers, a rumble similar to the song's leaving him. "You really are a mom, huh?" His irises move on back to you, and you further protect yourself with the cross of your arms when you see he's eyeing you up and down, a different light flaring in his gaze. "You've got the looks of one, too. Tell me why Frisk decided to run off into the Underground all on their own? You sound and act like a good mom, as far as I know."

Sans hits another weak spot, one you try to mask by showing anger on your face, using the excuse of him having checked you out. "I doubt I should answer a guy who's just looked me up and down." You form a scowl, persisting. "You really have no shame, do you?"

He shrugs, the arm hung over the mirror slipping back inside the car and lowering the volume some. "What can I say, lady? Ya don't wanna be acquaintances, ya don't wanna be friends, and you're set on me being your enemy. The only thing I've got left's to try flirtin' with ya."

"You really don't." You huff, letting your arms fall back to your sides, self-consciousness showing when you see his irises follow your movements. "Are you that intent on pissing me off? Stop staring at me like that."

"If I stop, will ya try to listen, for once? I just wanna help you and your kid out."

Humor vanishes from his skull, the serious note to his words augmented when he makes eye contact with you, music low enough not to distract you anymore. "Fine." You break away, looking back to your van. "But I won't ride in your car. I still don't trust you enough to be all alone with you." You pause, crossing your arms again when you feel too exposed, his comment on how you 'looked like a mom' making you assume only one thing: he'd noticed how unusually… pudgy you were over some areas. While Frisk was now almost six years old, you still had noticeable remnants of your pregnancy shown on your figure, these you had tried your best to fix by creating a more vigorous exercise routine compared to before. But even to this day, you were still prominently similar in some aspects to the day your ex decided to break the marriage up, or aka: the day after you gave birth to Frisk. 

"(Y/N)?"

You look towards the skeleton when he calls out for you, a bit offput by him using your name. Truth be told, you'd already grown used to him calling you 'lady'. Any other name felt strange coming from his teeth. "You good?" he asks, a subtle furrow present on his skull. "You've been spacin' off for a while now."

"I'm good," you reply, careful not to let your voice break. It's not until you see him wipe the car door with his jacket's sleeve that you notice rain's began to fall, tainting the inside, a cause of him having left the window open. "You should close the window. I'll follow behind in my van."