this is titled “i-have-art-block-and-cant-produce-anything-except-bullshit-so-here-is-a-generic-¾-view-bust-of-lance-BUT-WITH-GLASSES.png” on my laptop. 

idk this is a college au or something he’s reading a really smart astrophysics book or whatever offscreen that’s why he looks so serious it has nothing to do with the fact that I CAN’T DRAW ANYTHING EXCEPT GENERIC ¾ VIEW UNSMILING BUSTS RIGHT NOW

klance under the cut just in case some of y’all dont ship it

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  • [Stuck in their dressing room before a performance]
  • Chloe: We, we gotta get out of here!
  • Fat Amy: Yeah! Thank you, Catherine obvious!
  • Emily: What?
  • Fat Amy: I said thank you Catherine obvious.
  • Flo: Did she say Catherine Obvious?
  • Beca: It’s captain obvious.
  • Fat Amy: Huh?
  • Chloe: The expression is “Thank you CAPTAIN obvious”.
  • Fat Amy: It’s not Catherine?
  • Flo: No…
  • Emily: Who would Catherine be?

Yes, yes, I know,I’ve got an inbox bursting. However, @tyranttortoise has been feeling a little under the weather, and made a post about wanting an imagine about UF!Sans caring for a sick S/O. So, in order to pay them back for those kickass insomnia headcanons they did for me and get me back in the swing of things, I am happy to oblige. I might do Stretch later, but this turned out a bit long.

No use dancing around it. You felt gross as fuck. The vomiting had slowed down about an hour ago (long enough for you to stagger to the bathroom to get rid of the latest leavings of your stomach), but your face was still shoved into the bucket and you remained on high alert for any digestive movements not immediately sanctioned. You hadn’t showered in two days and you looked it, your hair somewhat greasy and your body sweaty. Around the room were plates that had contained toast you’d managed to find the energy to make but not clean up for.

Flu season always hit you hard, and your one comfort right now is that nobody was around to see you-

“doll? you here?”

Well, you supposed even thinking that had been tempting fate. “Red, what are you doing in my house?”

There was a low chuckle as the door closed. “do i have to have a reason now to want to see you?” You could hear his footsteps, slow but sure, in the living room. “stopped by your work. thought i’d surprise ya, but turns out you weren’t there. they said you were sick.”

“Which to some might have been an indication to stay away.” you grumbled. Truth be told you were glad to see him, you just didn’t want him seeing you.

“come on, i’m a skeleton, what am i gonna catch?” Before you could reply the door to your room swung open and he stood on the threshold, drinking in the sight, of you in old ill-fitting pajamas, surrounded by filth. You had been mired in this place pretty much non stop so you weren’t sure, but it couldn’t have smelled good either.

“well, aren’t you a sight.”

You sat up, pushing some hair out of your face. “Sans-”

He chuckled again, that familiar grin on his face. “yeah, not gonna lie, sweetheart.” he walked to the bed and kissed your forehead. “this is really fucking gross.”

“You’re one to talk.” you mumbled, kissing his cheekbone. “Have you seen your bedroom?”

“that’s a performance art piece.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Please define ‘performance art piece for me’ right now.”

He smirked. “someone’s in a mood, i see. did you shower?”

You shook your head. “Been throwing up too much.”

“alright, first thing’s first, hafta settle that stomach. be back in a sec.” he teleported out while you laid back in the bed.

Thirty minutes later he showed up with a thermos, which he handed to you. It was filled with warm soup. “tori’s specialty. ‘ccording to Frisk its pretty good for upset stomach.” You were familiar with Toriel’s cooking habits, and looked at him. “don’t worry, we kept an eye on her to make sure she didn’t put nothin funny in.”

That wasn’t necessarily reassuring, but you decided to risk a draught, keeping the bucket close at hand.

Well, your stomach didn’t immediately revolt….actually…. “That’s the first thing that’s tasted okay in two days.”

He grinned, and tousled your hair. “go shower.”

You got up and started gathering clean clothes. Just before walking in to the bathroom you turn around. “What, no suggestive offers to join me?”

Red rolled his eyes.

“Who is this skeleton I see before me?”

“the threat of being hurled on kind of kills the mood, sweetheart.” he grinned.

“Coward.” you went into the bathroom and started stripping. The shower felt fantastic. You could envision the germs being blasted off your skin, and your stomach was mostly settled.

When you came out he had swapped your sheets and blankets for clean ones and the dishes were gone. You walked outside the room to see him gathering some crackers and water onto a plate.

“Think if I told your brother you just cleaned without being prompted he would pass out?”

“i think you might kill him, honestly.” he came back and wrapped his free arm around your waist, kissing you full on the mouth before guiding you back to your room. “least you smell okay now.”

You smirk and elbow him in the ribs. He grunts, but chuckles.

After making you lie down in bed he sets the plate to the side and wraps his arms around you, your back against his rib cage and your head under his chin.  He opens your laptop and starts queuing up Netflix. “do me a favor, next time just text me that you’re getting sick? you haven’t answered for two days, thought i’d done something wrong.”

“Sorry.” you said, pulling the blankets up to your chin. “But this isn’t my first time being sick, you know, I can handle it myself.”

“i know.” he kissed your cheek. “but that’s the point of me bein here. you get to do stuff with another person that you’d normally have to do alone.”

Its unusually sentimental for Red. “Like, throwing up and lying in your own filth?”

He smirks. “like throwin up and lyin in your own filth.” The show starts up, and you both lapse into comfortable silence.

Red barely leaves your house over the next few days. As usual there’s a complete disconnect between his words and his actions. He teases you about how gross you are while holding your hair back and cleaning up vomit spills. He nags about how much you’re going to owe him for this while basically refusing to let you get up for anything. He smirks and says he’s wasting a lot of time on your feeble human body but refused to go home even when Edge tried to order it. In his own way, it was sweet.

Finally, a night you slept without needing to run panickedly to the bathroom to empty out whatever food you had managed to stuff down. You went to the bathroom to check your temperature and found the fever had broken: you were almost normal. You still felt a bit queasy, but not much more than a light case of carsickness. For the first time, you felt up to pulling on jeans and a t-shirt instead of old sweats. You went downstairs to fix some breakfast, and were greeted by a heartwarming sight. Red, passed out from exhaustion on your couch, with a soft smile. You took a picture to capture the moment before climbing on top of him and kissing him awake to thank him.

Imagine Dirk Gently season one except that Rapunzel was a fucking massive Great Dane or a Pitbull or something.

Imagine that they’ve gotten themselves trapped in Rimmer’s bathroom in episode two and they have to deal with an enthusiastic shaggy beast that Todd’s lowkey convinced is a wolf and Dirk has to try get the bloody thing out of the house somehow.

(Though imagine Rimmer trapping Lydia in the body of a dog with teeth and only realizing it when it’s too late).

Imagine the boys teasing Woozi for not being able to keep his hands to himself when he’s around you despite him being known as “the member who hates skinship”.