The Queen's service Au!Sans' x Reader {SEQUEL}

Enemy

(A.N: I know that some of you might've gotten confused if I hadn't had put this here- but when I refer to Sans in this chapter- I'm referring to a recently resurrected Red. Just to clarify! XD Please, read on. *bows* u w u)

"The hell is this-?"

Sans grumbled as he peered out at the blotted, shrieking streets of New York with a gruff scowl, everything familiar- yet new all the same. His phalanges found his skull, rubbing it anxiously as his weight leaned against the rusted roof-railing, taking in the impatient, death-defying traffic. "Well, ain't this fuckin' peachy..." he muttered with a sigh, teeth stretching into a slow, glinting grin.

Yes, it was just peachy...

—

It didn't take him so much as a minute to find his way to solid ground. And by that, one meant the New York pavement- something he was dreading. Dreading the curses, the stares, the derogatory, snide comments that he often turned the owners of into pavement pizza. Respectfully of course. But it never came. Even as he hunched his back in a threatening slump, it was like he wasn't even there- he stuck out like a sore-thumb, a good head above the crowd but none paid him any mind. What the hell was going on here? Where were the disgusted looks? Did humanity finally get off its high horse and just- just accept monsters?? He glanced down at the passing crowd as he stood in the centre of it, serving as a road block, people swarming past him.

A small smile up at him from a passerby answered that for him. He reared back, spine against the wall of a storefront, ribs heaving with anxiety. A human. A human that wasn't (y/n) had smiled like he was.... normal. If he wasn't confused enough before- he sure as hell was now. Humans were friendly— or at the very least tolerable of monsters. It seemed that the turn of the century had happened without him- it had only felt like a month in the Nether if he were being honest. He shuffled along the wall, spine flush against it till he shifted around the corner with a set frown. He wouldn't be taken as a fool—

He crossed along the pedestrian walk with great awkwardness, people scrambling to avoid his cautious wake as he strode across- careful to not overstep his bounds and step on the black of the road. That would just be invitation for someone to run you over-! With that ordeal out of the way, he furrowed his non-existent brow. He hadn't planned this far ahead, he didn't think he'd make it this far. He continued to dawdle along, his gaze lifting up to the labelled windows. He found his reflection, gleaming against the glass. He was battered, his clothes mere beaten rags that hung loose from his tired bones. And after all that money spent making him look 'gentlemanly'. He sighed, arms flopping to his sides as he drudged along. If he was going to live in the new world order, he needed to look the part. And glancing around at today's standards— he grinned- it meant a slob.

—

Gaster was going to have a fit.

Sans grinned widely from the Goodwill change rooms, the most he had in a century of life-or-death. Its doubtful one would smile even after that gladiator-esque fate as he was but he maintained his sharkish grin in view of the mirror. He liked it. 'It' meaning the stained, crimson turtleneck that draped over his rib cage snugly. 'It' meaning the ensemble of black basketball shorts- the worn black, fur laced hoodie and pink slippers that his feet burrowed into without hesitation. 'It' meaning the slightly-smelly wardrobe he had just pulled from a donations box. He sighed- how had he not known such comforts before death? And the best part- it was only fifty cents! Cha-ching! Worth every penny in his opinion- there was next to no price for comfort these days.

Rolling his shoulder sockets with a husky sigh, he pushed open the doors. Today, was a good day. There was just one problem that faced him, confronted him with puzzling solution— he hadn't the faintest idea where Grillby's was...