Flesh and Bone
by pumpkinpye

(AN: Am I always going to leave an author's note? Maaaybe. Thanks for reading, peeps. Enjoy!)

It had been a busy night. Frisk dropped into the chair across from Sans and pulled the apron over her head with a sigh, hardly caring when her hair flopped into her eyes. She was tired, her body ached in places she hadn't realized it could ache, and all she could smell was the beer and grease that had been splashed on her by just about every customer and staff member in the bar. Now all she wanted to do was eat, shower, and go to bed.

Judging by the look on Sans' face, however, she wasn't going to be doing any of those things any time soon. She loved him—not that she'd used the 'L-word' yet; they were still only a few months into the relationship and she didn't want to scare him away prematurely—but he had his moods sometimes, and she was still learning how to push and pull him out of his funks when he got all quiet…or, alternatively, smiley and punny and difficult to pin down. Resigned to having to try and worm whatever it was out of him before they left she stole one of his fries and leaned back in her chair, gazing at him through her bangs. Then, when he continued to simply scroll through whatever he was looking at on his phone instead of acknowledging her presence, she stole another fry…and threw it at him.

"Hey, Sans, look at your phone tater, I want to go homefry."

He glanced at her briefly but said nothing; it was the only response she'd expected. She pillowed her head in her arms on the table to wait for him to decide he wanted to talk. Maybe she'd have time to take a quick nap…

"Who's Mark?"

She raised her head, confused by the question. "Mark who?"

"You tell me," Sans muttered with a shrug, still looking at his phone. "Who is he? Friend? Co-worker? Family member you haven't mentioned before?"

She blinked, mind stumbling tiredly for an answer. "I don't know a Mark, Sans."

Unexpectedly she saw a flicker of blue in his eye socket. It took her a moment to understand that he wasn't trying to initiate some ill-timed intimacy…he was angry. He banished the flame an instant later, but it didn't change the fact that she'd seen it. She sat up in the chair, feeling her stomach start to churn. What in the world was he angry about?

"Look, Sans, you're going to have to be clearer with me because I have no idea what you're…"

"Mark," Sans snapped, showing her the screen of his phone. Only then did she realize it was actually her phone he was holding…and there was a picture on the screen, pulled up from her saved images, of a tall, muscular, dark-haired Adonis in low-riding jeans and not much else. She didn't need to see the filename to know it read 'mark dot jpg '.

She couldn't help it; she laughed. "Is that the Mark you're worried about?" she asked. "Well, you don't have to worry, I've never met him. It's just a picture I found on the internet a few years ago and saved because, well, I guess I thought he was kind of hot." Still is, she admitted to herself…not that she was about to say that aloud. "Now, if you don't mind, nosybones, can I have my phone back so we can go home?"

"Is that the kind of guy you think is hot, Frisk? Someone with muscles and hair? Someone tall and tanned? Someone human?"

Frisk sat up so fast the chair rocked precariously for a second. What the hell? "Sans, what are you talking about? I'm not…"

"Do you look at pictures like this when I'm not around? Do you imagine yourself with guys like this? Do you wish…" He faltered for a moment, but pressed on mercilessly. "…wish I looked like this? Handsome, with skin and…and an actual dick?"

She blinked again, not sure she could've been more surprised if he'd tried running her over with a car. Where was this all coming from? "Sans, stop; why are you so upset? Most people have pictures like this on their phones. I actually forgot that one was on there. I don't look at it anymore. I'm not interested in looking at it anymore…"

"You know what, never mind. Doesn't matter. Let's get outta here." He stood and tossed her phone onto the table, turning away and shoving his hands into his pockets as he headed for the exit.

Frisk grabbed her phone and followed him.

Once they were in her apartment she kicked off her sneakers and trailed Sans into the livingroom, hovering silently as he stretched out on the couch and turned on the television. She gave him another moment to acknowledge her before marching over and turning the television off again.

"Hey, what gives? I'm tryin' to relax."

"Relax later. Right now, we're having a conversation."

"Are we? All I'm getting is a lot of static."

"Sans, stop it or I swear to god I'm dumping all the ketchup down the sink. Now, please, what the hell was all of that at the bar? Are you seriously going to give me the cold shoulder over a picture I downloaded before I even met you? Yes, I thought he was hot; most girls—and probably some guys—would, too. But that doesn't mean I'm looking for someone like that. Sex is about more than physical appearance; it's about personality, connection, chemistry…"

"So you're telling me you wouldn't rather be with someone with skin and hair and muscles who has personality, connection, chemistry…?"

"No, Sans! I want you! That's why I'm with you!"

"You sure? A lot of those guys there tonight were checking you out, you know. Good-looking guys—all hairy and full of organs…"

"Sans..."

"Those guys could probably hold you at night without bein' too bony or making you cold. Could take you out to dinner without everyone staring at 'em. Could have actual sex with you instead of the whatever-the-hell-it-is we have. Have babies and grow old with you…"

Okay. Whoa. Frisk felt her throat go dry. This was definitely about more than the picture. "Sans, wait, hold up. Are…are you afraid I'm going to dump you for a human?"

"No. I'm afraid you're gonna wake up one morning and realize you are a human." And, with that, he apparated away.

Frisk was left staring at an empty couch. After a moment she turned around and sat. And then she lay down and let out a couple of tired sobs before curling up where he'd been. Stupid skeleton. Maybe she would dump his ketchup anyway.

She woke hours later to the feel of a familiar tingling kiss on her forehead. Blearily she opened her eyes and realized she was in her bed and that Sans was busy trying to untangle the blankets so he could pull them over her. Wearily she ventured out a hand, patting the bedspread until she found his fingers. "Sans…"

"Hey, kiddo. Sorry...'bout earlier. But you need to go back to sleep, all right? We'll talk in the morning."

"No. No, please; don't go."

"S'okay, kid. I'm not going anywhere."

"But…but...you're not leaving me...are you?"

He laughed: a hollow, mirthless sound. "No. No, I'm not leaving you. Though I wouldn't be surprised if you wanted to leave me after that little tantrum I threw in the bar. Sorry, kid. I'm a screw-up."

"You're not a screw-up, Sans."

"Really? I have an amazing girlfriend who works hard and instead of takin' her home to make her supper an' rub her feet I steal her phone and accuse her of wanting to bone every human she sees. Sounds pretty screwed up to me."

"Sans, c'mere. Lie down."

"Kid…"

"Please."

Not until she'd wrapped her arms around his humerus bone and lay her head against his clavical did she bother to continue the conversation. "I know I'm a human, Sans. But, honestly, it wasn't something I thought much about when I first kissed you. I just…went with my feelings. Since then, though, I have thought about it a little—our lives together, wondering if you'll still be around when I'm old and wrinkly…"

"No worries, kid, I'm sure you'll still be raisin my temperature when you're...ahh!"

She pulled her fingers away from his ribs and grinned as he swatted at her hand. "Do you mind? I'm trying to have a serious conversations here."

"Kid, I'm not gonna care what you look like."

"And I don't care what you look like, either. It's you, Sans. It's you I, well…" She bit her lip and then plunged in. "It's you I love. I don't want anyone else, because no one else would be you. I…I love you." He'd gone very still. Frisk felt her heart start to hammer and hastily backpedaled, determined to salvage what she could before he apparated away again. "It's, uh…it's okay if you don't feel the same way, though. It…it's pretty early in the relationship, and we're still working a lot of stuff out. It's probably a bad idea anyway to get too attached before we know it's going to work…"

"Frisk, stop. Please...stop talking."

She clapped her mouth shut and pressed her face into his shoulder, afraid to look up and see the derision in his expression, or worse...pity.

"Do you want to know why that picture bothered me so much?"

She nodded wordlessly against his arm, trying to draw encouragement from every moment he remained beside her in the bed.

"Because I…I've kind of had this feeling you only started up with me because you…you felt something, you know, physical for me...and that, one day, when you finally got tired of me and my magic tricks you'd go out and find a human to be with. So many human couples in that bar, so many men starin' at you; you coulda picked any of 'em, you know. I know I'm not much to look at, 'specially compared with them, and when I realized I'd grabbed your phone by mistake and found that picture when I was tryin' to check out your selfies I thought maybe you were already gettin' tired of me, startin' to think about what kind of future we could possibly have and deciding it was time to cut me loose…"

"Sans…"

"No, let me finish. I love you, Frisk. I think I was in love with you long before I realized it. I can't remember a time when you weren't my first thought when I woke up and my last before I went to sleep. I…I'm not sure what I'd do now, if you went away…"

She couldn't pretend anymore that she wasn't crying. She sniffled quietly and raised her head to look at him. "I'm not going anywhere. Ever."

"Me either, kid. Never. You're going tibia stuck with me for awhile."

The sex was urgent and noisy. Frisk laughed and sobbed and almost inhaled some of her hair when Sans accidentally cracked the headboard. When they were done she heard one of the glasses shatter in the kitchen. She chuckled against his ribcage.

"I love you. I love you so much. I might say this a lot now. I hope you're ready."

"The real question is 'are you ready?'"

She sat up and traced a finger over one of his clavicals, smiling faintly as his eye began to burn again. "And what, exactly, should I be ready for?"

His hands flared and he grinned as he reached for her. "Being bone tired tomorrow."