Are you sure you know what you're doing?
“Are you sure you know what you're doing?”
“obviously.”
He's concentrating very, very hard. You're not sure he can do it, to be perfectly honest. It’s kind of funny to watch him try regardless.
“Sure you don't need any help?” It's probably the twelfth time you've offered. He just doesn't seem to know how the damn thing works.
“no.” It's a blunt answer, but there's a lot of frustration behind his voice. There's magic sparking at his phalanges, but even then it doesn't work.
“Sans. Here.” Unable to keep him suffering any longer lest you bust your gut, you hold out towards him a pair of nice, fashionable white gloves.
“what. are those.” He's about to throw his brand new phone at the wall. You've been watching him try to unlock it for the past hour. He's so stubborn.
“Gloves.” You're hysterical. You can't believe you did that. Skeletons can't use touchscreens, Papyrus told you. But for some stupid reason Sans hadn't known that and had been willing to try. And try. Andtry.
Apparently Mettaton had had the same problem originally, which was why he wore gloves. Alphys had told you so when you were thinking about getting Sans a new phone in the first place. And now, it looked like he might hit you. Or cry. Maybe both.
“are you fucking kidding me?” He's still staring at the gloves in your hands, and you aren't sure if he's going to take them or not. You can't stop laughing - he looks so angry.
“Yes-” Wheeze. “I was.”
Between taking the gloves, throwing the new phone at the wall, crying, or hitting you, he does none of the above. He just sits there, staring at you as you cry with laughter. There's no way you aren't going to hell for this.