Will we ever get a short story in SSLL about detailed events that unraveled when the reader was drunk(from one of the skeletons point of view)?
It’s in the third bar he searches that Red finds you.
You’re sitting at the bar, your phone in one hand, talking to someone. Immediately, his expression darkens; he doesn’t like the look on your face–scrunched up, angry but holding back tears. He comes up to you, but he can’t hear what you’re saying; the music is too loud.
“sweetheart?” he prompts, touching your back. You jerk, but spin around on the barstool with a bright smile, steadying yourself with a hand to his chest.
“Red! Red, you’re here!” You’re grinning deliriously, your eyes appearing glazed. Without even hanging up the phone you tap Red on the sternum with the edge of it, and he reaches up to easily slide it out of your grip. "H-how’d you find me?“
“there aren’t that many bars near your house, darlin’,” he says, speaking louder than usual in an effort to be heard over the music. He can hear something coming from the phone, so he raises it to hold it to the side of his skull.
“You slut! How dare you think that you can just go off and drink with those monsters behind my back! You’d better get home right now, or we’re done!”
“you’re a real charmer, ain’t ya?” Red growls into the phone, and your boyfriend stammers in surprise.
“Y-you again?! I don’t want you or your undead family around her! Which bar are you at? I’m going to bring her home myself.”
“ya'see, that’s where you’re wrong. i may be a skeleton, but.. i know i have more guts than a coward like you.”
The song changes in the middle of his conversation, and you lurch up from the barstool, gripping Red’s arm. "Red, Reeeddd, I wanna danceee!“ you whine, and Red cuts off the call in the middle of your boyfriend yelling empty threats. He pockets your phone and grips your forearms. You’re unsteady on your feet, and obviously quite drunk if you didn’t notice him talking to your boyfriend on the phone.
"sweetheart, maybe ya should get some water instead.”
“Don’t be a buzz kill, Red! I thought you were a fun guy.” You grin, tugging on his arm and leading him toward the dance floor. There’s a giggle in your voice that isn’t usually present.
Red smirks. "‘course i’m fun. 'lright, lemme text stretch.“ He pulls out his own phone while he lets you tug him further into the writhing, drunken bodies, and sends a text with the bar’s name to Stretch. Then, he turns his attention to you as you start dancing. You’re completely off-beat and your moves mostly involve swaying and flailing your arms above your head, and every now and then, you take a step that almost has you toppling backward. Red ends up putting his hands lightly on your waist, trying to keep you steady. He’s enough of a decent person not to take advantage–whoops, scratch that, it lasted all of two seconds before he "accidentally” grips your ass.
His crimson eyelights are locked on your eyes, which seem glazed over. You stumble and clutch the front of his fur-lined jacket. “Ohhh, it’s sooo soft,” you murmur, the words slurring together as you lean forward and rub your face against the fur.
“sweetheart,” he says, and there’s a plea in his voice. He knows he should tell you to stop it, but he can’t bring himself to utter the words. Instead, he just holds you steady, until someone else suddenly pops up beside you both.
“the hell are you doing, red?” Stretch is glowering in disapproval–you’re still rubbing your cheek against the fur and smiling deliriously–and Red shakes his head.
“hey, don’t look at me. i ain’t makin’ her do any of this,” Red insists, and you lift your head to look over at the orange blur.
“Heeeyy, it’s Stretch!” With one hand still on Red’s jacket, you reach out and touch Stretch’s hoodie. “Your hoodie isn’t as soft, but it’s still nice.”
“wow, you’re drunk.”
“told ya,” Red mutters.
“Mmm, Stretch..! Thank you for bringin’ me food! Even though.. even though…” You trail off, your gaze beginning to water. Your vision blurs even more, and you reach over to grab onto Stretch’s hoodie with both hands. He grasps your elbows in surprise to steady you, while Red keeps a hand on your back.
“Even though.. I got su-suspended from work today, and my parents won’t..won’t stay outta my life, and.. that asshole won’t just leave me alone.”
Oh great. The floodgates have opened, and you start crying. Even though you’re drunk, you still feel a flush of mortification, and you bury your face in Stretch’s chest to hide it, weeping onto his hoodie. Stretch and Red both exchange a glance, before Stretch leads you off the dance floor, to a more secluded portion of the bar. Two monsters being seen with a crying, drunk girl probably isn’t in their best interest.
“slow down, honey. what happened?”
“explains why she’s wasted,” Red mutters, and you feel his hand rubbing your back again while Stretch keeps holding you up. Your arms go around his waist–you really just need a hug right now; you need someone to tell you that everything will be all right despite the fact that your world is crashing around you.
“It’s stupid, it’s nothing, but it’s.. it’s so hard. I don’t know how much longer I can deal. I.. I’ve been sleeping in the guestroom, and everything I do is the wrong thing, even.. even though, hanging out with y-you guys… it’s the happiest I’ve been in so long..” You’re sobbing now, your entire body shaking. “So, please… please don’t leave.. please? I k-know I’m a mess right now, and I’m sorry. I’ll.. I’ll be stronger tomorrow, oka-ay? Just.. don’t leave.” Your voice is wavering, and you can’t help pleading your insecurities; the filter between your brain and mouth has been obliterated by some good ol’ Jameson.
“no one’s goin’ anywhere, sweetheart,” Red’s mouth is close to your ear, his breath stirring your hair. “so don’t ya worry about that, ok?”
“yeah, it’s going to be all right,” Stretch murmurs, his arms moving to encircle you, which makes you relax. You really needed that hug. You hear them mumble something, and you catch Sans’s name, but you’re too busy crying to really process the information.
“where’s the boyfriend?” Stretch asks Red.
“We got in a… a fight. Well, we’ve been in a fight ever since I came back.. We’re always fightin’… He doesn’t like..” You trail off; you don’t want to admit that they’re the cause of the fight, even as wasted as you are. “He said he was g-going to a bar to score some numbers, so I.. I wanted to drink. It’s been a lonnnngg week.”
“drinkin’ when you’re sad ain’t the way to go, sweetheart.”
“I just.. just wanted a vacation… I’m s-sorryy…” You voice breaks again, and you feel the bar begin to spin. You’re getting tired, and the lights are starting to blur together. You push away from Stretch and attempt to sit on a barstool, but really, you just want to lie down. Just as your knees start to buckle and your hand slips from the stool’s padding, you feel another set of arms take hold of you. One arm goes around your shoulders, while the other hooks beneath your knees, and you’re hefted up bridal-style against someone’s chest.
They’re surprisingly strong, and you allow your heavy head to loll against their shoulder. You feel a warm breath at your ear, this one smelling strongly of ketchup–which makes your weakened stomach churn.
“let’s go home, kiddo,” Sans murmurs, having arrived on the scene after receiving a text from Stretch with the address.
You grip onto his jacket like a lifeline, and the desperate syllable cracks on its way out, “Please.”
When he carries you outside, you’re already out of it, but Edge is standing there beside his sleek convertible. His arms are crossed, and he’s wearing a deep scowl. Despite his irritation, worry enters his gaze when it lands on your form cradled in Sans’s arms. “WELL? WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO HER?”
“rough week. suspended from work, problems with the parents, and it sounds like the douchebag boyfriend is making her life hell.”
“…….SHE HAS A BOYFRIEND?!”
Edge’s jaw is agape, and Red shrugs, sliding in the passenger seat as Sans climbs into the back with you and Stretch. “c’mon boss. i’ll fill ya in one the way home.”