Chapter Text
“You and your brother don't act like real brothers. I should know, me and my own brother certainly don't act like that,” Bree hummed, somehow managing to keep her tone all sweet-like and honeyed, despite her choice of words.
Sans, no, Red, because why should the classic Sans have to give up his name when it was his universe? Not to mention the other two Sanses would certainly kick up a fuss because why can't they keep their names and he can?
Damn it.
Red was currently scowling down at his drink, for once, not mustard but also not something that hits as hard as the good stuff from his Grillby's. It was still the strongest thing the fiery bartender had, though.
He missed his Grillby. At least that purple bastard wouldn't care about cutting him off unless he felt the skeleton actually had little means of paying off his tab. Or close to drinking himself to dust.
He ran his hand down his skull. Great, now he's feeling homesick while dealing with… what was it that he was planning to drink to drown out his sorrows again?
Not that it really-
“Does your brother hate you or something? Like, in a real way and not in a playful way,” Bree's voice spilled so softly into his ear. “It kind of scares me.”
“boss? nah, we don't hate each other. ‘s jus’ how we are,” Red replied, his phalanges trailing lightly up and down his date-mate's arm. So soft, though her perfume was always a bit strong for his liking.
“Still. That's not how real brothers act.”
Red felt his mood drop even more as snippets of his last conversation with Bree came back to him, finally remembering why he wanted to get hammered. He grabbed his glass and shot it back, trying to push the conversation far from his thoughts.
He'd felt so… judged by her, despite the lack of derisive tones or hateful sneers. Her pretty face was unmarred by such, yet her words managed to dig underneath, making him feel ugly.
Or probably ripping apart his act, revealing his true colors. There wasn't any way to pretend he could change.
His mouth twisted into a snarl, and he barked out for another, but Grillby just shook his head.
Red barely resisted the urge to throw his glass at the nonverbal bartender, his claws curling slightly, but he stopped before he could mar the surface and got off the chair with a huff.
Who needed him? Or his pathetically weak alcohol.
“.. huge. Huge. I'm telling you, this rat was big enough that if the landlord saw it, he'd start demanding rent from the thing.”
Red was about to leave, but stopped when he heard the nearby voice. It wasn't anyone he knew, but he swore that it sounded familiar. Like when you're watching some human movie and you can just barely recognize the actor, and it starts to nag at you until you finally look the person up and see where you remembered them from.
His eyelights traveled from table to table until he caught the source of the voice, vision blurring for a bit before the human cleared up and-
Oh. What the fuck was she doing here?
His anger tried to flare up, but it only felt hollow, for some reason, as he stared at the table where that human Bree had brought on as a possible roommate, sat next to, who was that, Burgerpants?
“Damn,” Was Burgerpants’ reply, his tone sounding like he'd been saying the word like, ten times already. And looking like he just wanted to go home.
Which was the opposite of what Red wanted. Not about the poor monster, but himself. He definitely didn't want to go home.
“beat it,” Red muttered as soon as he approached the table, referring to the cat monster. He sat in the same seat as soon as said cat monster did make his escape, and Red chose to pretend he didn't see the look of gratitude on the overworked cat's face.
“Bye,” the human waved to the retreating back of Burgerpants, before directing her attention to him. Her face was a bit flushed, probably buzzed, but definitely not as drunk as Red.
Her mouth opened, seemingly about to address him, but she seemed to finally recognize him as well before shutting up.
Red couldn't really tell, but he thought there was a fond look in her eyes before she recognized him.
“yer arm healed up?” He asked, breaking the silence. He eyed the mentioned limb, trying and failing to stop himself from reliving the memory of his brother accidentally breaking it. Whether or not it was deserved, he wasn't partial to the sound of broken bones.
“Uh, yeah. ‘S all good,” She answered, holding up her arm.
Red studied the raised arm, almost expecting to see some kind of scar from the surgery, but it was, if course, hidden underneath a sleeve.
Was it normal for a human to heal up this fast? He tried to rack his brain, but with the alcohol in his system, it was actually hard to remember exactly when they first met, and then the incident.
“good fer you,” He finally settled on, deciding to ignore his suspicions. He eyed her drink, only halfway empty.
“Yep, but it's nothing, really. I've had a lot more bones broken during my childhood. Not that I'm saying it was nothing, the breaking my arm thing, cause I sure as hell won't want a repeat,” She ran the tip of her finger along the rim of her glass while she rambled, avoiding his eyelights.
“yeah, you gonna finish that?” He asked, after a quick look to ensure Grillby wasn't looking over here.
She blinked, looking at her drink for a moment, had some kind of brief remorse in her eyes, before inhaling through her nose and sliding it over to him. “Nah, you can have it if you want.”
There was another brief look, like she regretted agreeing to it or she was planning on saying something else like, ‘yeah, beat it,’ but Red was quick about grabbing the offered drink and downing it. The taste wasn't bad, but he only cared about how it burned going down his nonexistent throat.
“So, come here often?” She asked, then promptly looked like she regretted it.
Red snorted, momentarily forgetting a lot of stuff, which was great. He actually felt happy for once since that stupid conversation with Bree, and- whoops, there goes that progress because thinking about her just made him remember, and remembering was steadily getting him pissed off all over again.
“I don't always come here, but that's only because I've been working more after finally getting a well-deserved promotion -in spite of you all- and I'm not really much of a drinker, but Sa- ah- some friends of mine convinced me to check this place out, and it turns out, the drinks here are great, and so are the fries. I love the fries here, actually, best damn fries I ever had- hey Grillby, your fries are the best!”
Wasn't that nice? He could hear cheers following after her yelling out to the bartender/owner. She talked a lot. It was pretty distracting.
“So, yeah, this place is great. And I'd been having a pretty nice conversation with BP, who you kinda scared off. If you don't mind, I think I might go ahead and-”
“stay,” Red interrupted, gripping the glass a little too tightly at the possibility of her leaving their table. He didn't want to be alone right now, even if she was talking off his nonexistent ear. In fact, it was exactly why he didn't want her to leave. She had a nice voice, and was actually tolerable to be around. Why was he even feeling hostile towards her?
A quick search through memory lane promptly reminded him why, but his date-mate's description wasn't exactly fitting her. He'd never be this comfortable around a trashcan of a human, unless she was really fuckin’ good at acting. But he wasn't getting those kinda vibes from her, and Red was pretty damn good at sniffing out fakes and otherwise terrible people to be around with.
And his opinion of Bree at the moment wasn't looking so shiny.
“Okay, I guess I can stick around a lil’ longer,” She shot him a, albeit strained, smile. He couldn't bring himself to care if she was feeling uncomfortable around him, as long as she just kept talking about whatever inane shit and just didn't stop talking.
Throughout the hour, Red was half-zoning out and half-listening avidly to the human. Her voice sounded so nice and her hand was nice in his. He liked playing with the fingers, bending them and straightening them, watching the metacarpals shift and flex under her skin.
She finally realized this, and tried to pull her hand away, and okay, maybe he was reluctant to let go and she tugged a little harder, mouth ready to complain and-
There was the sound of something popping, and it even sounded a little wet- oh, she inhaled in sharply, and choked out in pain as she cradled her hand close when he let go in surprise.
“Fuck- shit, shit!” She hissed to herself, and Red was pulled sharply out of his drunken daze to realize he might've dislocated a few of her fingers, might've bent something that's not supposed to get bent, and his soul plummeted into delayed panic.
“oh shit- my bad,” Red breathed out, reaching out, trying to think of someway to help, and she just flinched away.
“No, no, don't touch! You've done enough! I've already been to the hospital because of one of you, and I'm not eager for a repeat experience!” She snapped at him, and dug something out of her pocket. Monster candy?
He opened his mouth, but didn't really know what to say. He was stuck between questions and instructions for monster candy, when she grit her teeth and forced what was out of place, into place and tried her best to keep them there as she got a candy in her mouth.
Since it was immediate, her hand fixed itself with the help of the monster candy.
Wow. This chick was awesome.
He was about to tell her so, when the words died in his mouth. She looked pissed off, but also afraid.
“Hah, I think I'm just gonna pay my bill and go home,” She finally spoke up, ready to gather up her stuff.
“wait, no. stay,” Red protested, genuinely not wanting to be alone. He reached to grab for her, and stopped himself because she flinched again. “‘m sorry. real fuckin’ sorry i did that, but please don't go.”
“Why? You almost broke my hand. You really did, and it hurt. Why should I stay?” She demanded, the heat behind her words making him flinch in turn. “I'm done here, I don't need to deal with this. All I've done is…”
Red tuned out most of her words, only focused on her voice itself. Even as angry as she was forcing herself to be, even with that little wobble that was threatening to grow and might have the chance to turn into yelling, or worse, crying, he still wanted to keep hearing her. Because if he couldn't, then he was left with his own thoughts, and those thoughts only seemed to gravitate back to Bree and her idea of family, that Red and his brother didn't fit that ideal, that she was judging them, that- that…
She stopped talking.
Red looked up, confused as to why she was now looking conflicted, and concerned. But why? His cheekbones were feeling wet, he realized- hot, fat tears were forming in his sockets and running down his skull, he realized, mortified.
He rubbed them away, now more open to the idea of being alone. Because he didn't want anyone seeing him like this. He was glad she was going, actually! All she did was talk and talk and talk, jumping to a different subject like some kind of verbal parkour. He couldn't even remember more than half of what she'd been talking about.
Red flinched when his hand was grabbed. He peeked under his other hand, which shielded his teary skull, seeing her hand over his, squeezing just a little.
He swallowed thickly, making sure his eyesockets remained dry before putting his arm down from his face.
This was nice, too. The warmth of her hand seeped into his bones, and he doesn't really get to hold Bree's hands, even if any of his brother's counterparts could do so at anytime. She said it wasn't like him at all.
Red tentatively looked up at her face, seeing her look… well, not happy. She was looking pretty reluctant, in fact. Like she still wanted to get up and leave, yet she still sat there, holding his hand.
His cheeks started to feel hot in a different way than when he'd been drinking. But he felt warm overall too, in a nice way. Better than Bree ever let him feel with her, because he had to be tough, he had to be mean and sexy and wear the same act he would back in his universe, outside the safety of his and Papyrus’ home.
This feeling of contentment washed over him, and he sighed, basking in the glorious feeling of being able to let himself relax, feel safe enough to be himself in ways he hasn't felt in so, so long, that didn't involve being alone or being with his brother.
And it was with her, not Bree, his date-mate.
Red couldn't really bring himself to care. He rested his skull on the table, unable to tear his eyes from the sight of her hand atop his. It was only him and her in this moment, and it was all he needed for this moment.