Disgust
You never knew Sans could cook.
Well, more like bake, considering he’s made what looks like a chicken pot pie, quiche, and macadamia nut cookies. You brought baked macaroni and cheese, which is… edible(?).
You tried, okay? It’s not ramen, and it’s not burned, so that’s a plus, right?
Although… by now even Papyrus’ fettucini alfreido/spaghetti fusion looks better than your craptastic dish. Didn’t he used to set the kitchen on fire, once upon a time? Apparently not anymore.
Why did you ever come? Toriel’s made a fantastic looking Turkey, some stuffing just now coming out of the oven, homemade mashed potatoes, and most everything else that screams Thanksgiving. Undyne even brought what looks like fruit salad – is that a cheesecake cradled between Alphys’ claws? Oh no.
“Psst. Sans.” You elbow him in the side, the big-boned skeleton casting you a curious side-glance.
“psst. what’s up, bud?” Oh no. Frisk made Pumkin pie? On their own? From scratch? Your baked macaroni looks like trash. You’ve set yourself up for disaster.
“Kill me now. Please.”
“what?” He looks extremely surprised you asked. Has he not seen the thing you created and called ‘food’ yet? You gesture towards Toriel who is currently in the process of heating it up.
You didn’t know skeletons could crunch their faces in disgust while chuckling. The more you know, or so you’ve heard.
“Sans. Please.”
“aww, c’mon pal. i can’t kill you. ‘sides…” Oh no. You regret everything. He’s giving you… the look.
“we don’t want anyone to pasta way, now do we?”