Chapter Text
You stared at your phone for a moment, before looking back up at the house. It wasn't a mansion, you'd seen enough celebrity reality tv show to know, but it wasn't a 'house' either. It was a healthy middle, something that the upper middle class could live comfortably in, but the rich would probably consider it some kind of garage to park their cars. But it wasn't the size that had thrown you in for a loop, it was the...Could you even call it style? You were sure cracked columns, a broken window, and a front door that looked like it had seen a fire wasn't style, it was all damage. You turned your data on, and refreshed the email, but got the same exact address as the one on the bent and dented mailbox. You sighed and got off your bike, and began rolling it up the brick pathway, being careful not to run over any of the violets that flanked both sides of the path. The flowers were drooping, and the leaves were an off brown, probably thanks to a lack of watering and good soil. Was that a shard of glass sticking out of a tree?
Your thoughts, and body, came to a stop as the door flew open and a skeleton monster stood on the porch. Your fingers squeezed the handlebars of your bike a little harder, and you fought to keep...well, you didn't know if you should even call it eye contact. Monsters had come to the surface two years ago, and they were a mixed bunch that could either get easily offended, would literally eat your face, or were the most jolly people you could find. Even though this one was smiling, had a relaxed stance, and the white eye lights weren't the least bit accusatory, you still didn't want to tick off your potential employer. You swallowed and carefully parked your bike next to an oak tree, kicking the kickstand into position. "Um, hi. Are you Sans Skeleton?" You continued when he gave you a nod. "I read about your ad in the paper, we talked on the phone earlier when I got lost-"
"you're the pot dealer?"
"Um..." You kept your smile in place, your fingers flexing and twisting as you processed his words, the ability to pop them already gone for the day. Good lord, you were seriously having to do this again? No, you weren't a pot dealer, you were an herbalist. HERB. A. LIST. You didn't grow pot, nor did you sell the stuff, the things in your garden had better effects than that crummy herb anyway. You had biked half way across town to get here, and this guy thought you were some pot dealer! You'd wasted your time, time that could have been poured into playing Skyrim, sleeping, or writing out a shitty fanfic involving steamy love making scenes to fill the void in your very stagnant sex life! But no, you were here, smiling dumbly at a skeleton, who wanted some dank kush. You kept up your impression of an underpaid Starbucks employee, as you fiddled with your bike, trying to get the stupid kickstand to go back up. "N-never mind, I think I got the wrong place."
"674 juniper lane?"
"Yeah..."
"it's the right place." He shut his door, before making his way down the brick steps, hands entrenched in the pockets of his blue hoody. Oh god, he was confronting you now. "there a problem?"
"Uh..." Great, now he probably thought it was because he was a monster, not because you weren't a fucking pot dealer. "Kinda. It's not really a problem, but more of a misunderstanding. N-not because you're a monster or something," You said quickly when you noticed his...Wait, did he raise an eyebrow? Bone brow? Did the mushrooms in your eggs come from the grocery store or your friend's 'Wonderland Stash'. "but because you think I'm something that I'm not." Great, you started it, might as well finish it. "I'm not a pot dealer. I don't sell it, don't smoke it, and I certainly don't grow it! I know most people confuse herbalists for drug dealers, but-"
"kid, relax and slow down." You paused mid rant, more words built up and ready to be launched in your tirade. The skeleton gestured to your phone, still clutched in your left hand. "i'd read somewhere that pot could relax a person. ya know, mellow 'em out. i'd give 'em some human meds, but uh..." He shrugged. "we don't really got the stomach for it."
Was that a pun? A skeleton with a sense of humor, great. At least he wasn't a spooky scary skeleton, Outlast was enough nightmare fuel.
"anyway," He said. "i just thought all human herbalist sold them, that's what the site said."
"Well, some do, but some don't." You shrugged, hands still clutching your bike, ready to bail and go drink your sorrows away with some iced coffee. "It brings in some coin, but it's actually illegal here in Georgia. I mean, you honestly didn't think you could contact a drug dealer on a normal website, dd you?"
He just shrugged, the movement exaggerated, making him look even smaller than he already did. "guess i didn't think of that. wanted something illegal underground, you just looked it up and kept quiet about it."
"That's not how it works up here."
"got it."
But all he needed was something to calm 'them' down? He didn't have to go straight to the illegal stuff. There was chamomile, lemon balm, lavender, valerian....There were so many legal options to choose from, and you could brew a batch of any kind of tea or tincture he could think to ask. Of course, meeting 'them' would be helpful, you could get a good idea on what dosages and the like you would need to make. Oh no, were you really thinking about helping this guy? You looked him up and down. He was shorter than you, barely hitting the 5'3 mark, and looked like he had a bit of a tummy. Harmless in the long run, honestly. And if anyone could afford a house on Juniper Lane, then clearly he had to have a little cash somewhere. Oh no, it was beginning to look like a good idea. Don't do it, don't do, don't do it-"What if I gave you things to relax that wasn't pot?"
"hm?"
Great, you did it.
"There's lots of herbs that could help, but they're also legal." You began tapping at your phone, bringing up a picture of your tiny patio garden, before holding it up for the skeleton to look at. "I could brew plenty of teas."
"that's a good idea, but not nearly enough," He tapped the picture of your chocolate mint. "these aren't grown by vegatoids or other farming monsters, so we'll need a hell of a strong dosage to actually take effect and metabolize with our bodies."
"That's fine, I can order more plants." Your bedroom only had your bed, your TV, and game systems. You could put some pots in there, and a few more in your kitchen. You could charge a little more since it would take more work. "It'll take a bit longer to get the teas made, but it'll be fine." You slipped your phone into your pocket. "So um, is it okay if I meet the people needing the teas? It'll help me figure out exactly what herbs I need to mix, and how strong each one should be." You were worried about the ones who needed a normal 'strong' dose, would they need an entire plant and a twenty four hour steeping time?
That would probably kill a normal person.
You didn't want to go to jail, you were too far in Dark Souls.
"eh, you sure about that, kid?" The white eye lights in his sockets had shrinked somewhat, it was hardly noticeable, but clearly different. Not that you had been staring! No, it was polite to look someone in the eye when speaking to them...Plus, it was probably the least creepy part about your new employer. His face moved, his mouth didn't open when he talked, and you were almost afraid to see his hands. His eye lights were honestly like running the downhill part of a race, it was painful, but it wasn't as bad as going uphill. "the others aren't exactly fans of humans."
"If I don't interact with them, I won't know a proper dose." You said. "I'm no doctor, but I've got the basics of my craft."
He glanced from you, back to the house, before he gave a lo sigh, and turned on his slippered heel. "alright, follow me."
The interior of the house wasn't as bad as the exterior. The walls were all painted a dark red, and the floors were a dark brown wood that looked like they belonged in an old European tavern. You noticed all the lights were bare bulbed, and there wasn't a ceiling fan in the living room. Sans went over to a couch that was next to the broken window, and took off the cushions, examining the bottom of it. "clear."
He put the cushions back, and gestured for you to sit down. You smoothed out your skirt, before carefully sitting down, almost afraid to do so now that the thing was practically bomb checked. Sans left the room, an up a staircase to the next floor. You watched him enter a door covered with stickers from between the railing in the balcony, you caught a glimpse of red and black, before the door shut behind him. You flexed your hands, the digits getting tangled up in the silky material of your skirt, your mid drifting back to your phone. Would he find t rude if you were playing a dating sim while waiting? There was one lady who had found it rude for your to simply make sure you were talking about the right herb, and an elderly man had thought you were calling the police on him. Then there was some other unsavory people who once again thought you were a pot dealer...
Nope, staying here, bored out of your mind, was probably a safer bet.
A dull, rhythmic clicking sound caught your attention. You frowned and looked around the room, finding nothing in the chair across from you, or from the opening in the kitchen. You eased back into your place, just to scream and back away to the other side of the couch, when you caught sight of someone hanging out of the window. Well, you were sure they were a someone, and not a Halloween prop. The person in question was a skeleton, a massive gash in his skull, and a single red pupil staring at you. He had his skull in his palm, three fingers hooked into the empty socket, and fingers drumming against the window sill. "pretty shitty way to greet someone."
"I-I'm sorry," You said, hand going up to your chest. You honestly thought your heart had exploded, and flopped onto the floor. "You scared me."
"obviously." He continued drumming his fingers, though you saw his smile twitch at the edges. "ain't often the goody two-shoes brings in new blood, or anything with blood at all." He said. "so what're you doin' here, human? got a death wish? cause it's your lucky day, i'm your dream skeleton, can make all your wishes come true."
"..."
No, this was a bad idea. Judge books by their covers, judge creepy haunted looking houses by their exteriors, and judge evil looking skeletons by their looks. "I-I'm just waiting on Sans. I'm supposed to meet the people he wants tea brewed for."
The fingers stopped drumming for a moment, and the swollen pupil grew in his socket, almost taking up the entire empty space, before it closed altogether as he laughed. It sounded more akin to a cough, and you wondered if he was actually sick in body and mind. "so he's actually gonna try an' fix us. gotta hand it to 'im, he's pretty persistent."
You slowly began pushing yourself off the couch, and backing away from the window, praying the skeleton would continue rambling to himself so you could get away and out the door. However, a sharp pain slammed against your skull, and you screamed, pain erupting along your nerves. "stop bringing your meals into the house, eyeball." Your head was wrenched back, and you were once again looking at a skeleton, this one had a hood over its head, but you could see a Christmas colored eye lights staring down at you from both sockets. "look at her, you didn't even get a forgettable one."
"ain't mine, she's the goody two-shoes'."
The blank expression on the skeleton's face was marred by the eye lights shrinking, and the smile drooping down at the edges. "that right?"
The skeleton pushed you forward, until your knees hit the couch. You yelped and fell forward, the skeleton pinning you down with his legs on both sides of your body. Great, this was how you were gonna die. You weren't going to travel the world, get that degree you always promised your grandmother, or finish that pint of ice cream in the freezer. Your entire life was going down the toilet, and it was all thanks to some idiot confusing you for a pot dealer. You felt something hard and warm caress your face, and your head was wrenched from out of the cushions, your gaze fixed on the broken skeleton from earlier. Half of his body was in the window now, leaning against the couch, three fingers still stuck in his empty socket. "now don't go cryin', this ain't gonna hurt a bit."
"you're a horrible liar." The monotone skeleton said, the stiff fingers twisted around your hair, pulling it taunt from the root. You grit your teeth, the ability to scream pretty much gone anyway thanks to how scared you were. How hadn't you pissed yourself yet? "it's gonna hurt like hell, your body's probably gonna keep wriggling when we're done with ya." The fingers pulled away, as did the body pinning you down.
You shut your eyes, and wished you had cleared your browser history before coming here, hoping your family would still deal with your remains after they saw what was on your computer and phone.