Sorry I’m just a stupid XD anyway, this is what I do when I black out I guess XD but not including the comic page, they’re named “AcK, wHY THE HECKing HEcK, YES IT IS THEM” and that last one XD if you can’t read the end it says “INSERT TOUHOU REFERENCE WHICH IS A REFERENCE TO JOJO I THINK” XD
You call for Sans, but he doesn’t answer, so you go upstairs to his bedroom and knock.
Still no answer.
You know better than to waltz into his bedroom without permission, so you’re about to just turn on your heel and go find Papyrus, but.. as soon as you take a step, you hear “COME IN!” from the other side of the door.
You walk inside to discover Blackberry sans-shirt and sprawled across his bed (*which resembles the Death Star, by the way–yeah, strap in because this is now my SF!Sans bed canon). As soon as he spots you, he lets out a stage gasp. "HUMAN! YOU CAUGHT ME IN THE MIDDLE OF CHANGING!“
Uh.. “But you said to c–”
“YOU MUST HAVE BEEN PLOTTING THIS FOR DAYS, TRYING TO FIGURE OUT MY DRESSING HABITS! ALL SO YOU COULD SEE ME WITHOUT A SHIRT!!”
You stare. Mostly because you’re confused, but also because you’re interested in his bones and he’s not moving to hide them beneath a sheet or anything.
“I.. I WONDER WHAT YOU HAVE PLANNED NEXT! WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO NOW THAT YOU HAVE ME ON THE BED, HALF-UNDRESSED!”
It doesn’t sound like a question, and you’re unsure how to answer. Is he trying to give you control? That’s not really his style. There must be something more to this.
“OR.. MAYBE NOW THAT YOU HAVE OOGLED ME FOR SO LONG, WE SHOULD MAKE THINGS EVEN.” He stands up from the bed and crosses the room, his grin suddenly seeming devilish. When he reaches you, his fingers reach out to grip the hem of your shirt.
There it is; there’s the “something more.” You can choose to pry his fingers away or let him divest you of your shirt, but either way, you’re going to end up making out with Sans on that Death Star bed. That’s a fact.
You spent another night on the Swapfell brothers’ couch and wake up to the terrible smell of.. breakfast burritos. You groan, rolling over and burying your face in the cushion in an effort to block out the scent. You don’t know if you can stomach Sans’s cooking this early in the morning.
“HUMAN! GO MAKE YOURSELF USEFUL AND WAKE UP MY LAZY SHIT OF A BROTHER! IF YOU’RE BOTH NOT AT THE TABLE BY THE TIME I FINISH, THERE WILL BE CONSEQUENCES!”
“There will be even if we are,” you mumble under your breath, pushing yourself off the couch.
“WHAT WAS THAT, HUMAN?!”
“I said, okay!” you call back, marching toward the stairs. You’re a little grouchy when you first wake up, especially after sleeping on that lumpy couch, so you swing open your bonefriend’s door without even knocking. "Hey, Pap, ti–“
Your voice cuts off. He’s sleeping shirtless on his mattress, a single sheet half tangled around his legs, half pooled in the floor. From the look on his face, it doesn’t seem like his sleep has been peaceful, but you’re honestly too busy staring at his ribcage. You had always wondered what he would look like without that fluffy jacket and sweater, and you’re not disappointed. You find yourself drawing closer, gravitating toward his bed, all the while holding your breath lest one wrong move wake him.
Your fingers move of their own accord, stretching out toward the exposed bone. You can see little cracks, little scars marring the ribs, bulging ossifications across a few spots that seem to have healed crooked. As much as you want to trace your fingertips across each spot, each imperfection, you also want to desperately hug him, as if that could retroactively take away whatever pain he endured in the harsh Underground.
Your hand is barely an inch away when you notice his eyesockets are wide open, and he’s watching you with a guarded expression. "Shit, ‘rus!” you gasp, quickly withdrawing your hand and stumbling back. Your heel catches on a discarded shirt on the floor, and you slip backwards with a tiny shriek, prepared to land unceremoniously on your ass, but.. the impact never comes. Instead, Papyrus has teleported to catch you, one arm around your shoulders, the other grabbing one of your flailing hands.
“you ok?” His concern gives way to a slight lazy grin. “you’re actin’ kinda cagey there, darlin’.”
“Y-yeah, sorry! I just..” Your gaze starts to slide back down to his ribcage, but you manage to correct yourself and meet his gaze again. "I came to get you for breakfast..“ Your voice sounds tiny suddenly, and his grin widens a bit.
"ok, thanks.” He lets you go, and you realize your face is absolutely burning. Quickly, you turn around and leave his room, and in the next moment, you realize he’s following you.
Breakfast is awkward, and he wears a shit-eating grin the entire time.