Recuperate
The sun was far above the horizon by the time Sans finally stirred. You hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep, but you didn’t feel very tired. One of those nights, you guess.
“Good morning,” you whispered when he lifted his head. With a sleepy smile displayed on his face, he leaned forward to peck you on the cheek. As much as you wanted to accept and lean into it, your body reflexively flinched away. His smile slipped, but returned a millisecond later.
“heh… sorry,” he sighed, leaning back and sliding off the couch.
“W-want to get some coffee?” you asked. Maybe it would keep you from collapsing due to lack of sleep later today.
“sure, you need anything first?”
“Yeah, just a sec’,” you stretched when you stood up, sighing in pleasure from your popping joints. You smiled as Sans’ almost grossed out expression, cracking your fingers as you made your way to your room.
Snatching the cleanest sweater and dress you can find, you switched your old clothes with the slightly fresher ones. Grabbing a very unused jacket, you slid it on as you made your way back to your living room.
“you don’t want my coat?” he pouted as he opened the door for you.
“Won’t you get cold then?”
“nah, the cold air goes right through me.”
“Okay then, you big ol’ bag of bones,” you laughed, sliding on some boots and starting your walk. You watched as your feet picked up the snow. It was so pretty. So clean. So pure.
“I love snow.”
“i lived in it most of my life.”
“Gosh, that sounds like it would suck after a while.”
“it wasn’t all that bad.”
“Oh, well then,” you smiled sheepishly.
You almost shut down while ordering your drink. Sans ended up picking for you. It wasn’t a bad choice, and you apologized after practically every sip. He just laughed it off, but you still felt bad.
He invited you over to his and Papyrus’ home, in which you politely declined. Spending two weeks at only your home or work really messed with your social skills. It hurt to see Sans look sad, even though he did very well at hiding it.
When you two split ways at your front door, you immediately flipped the blue sketchbook open to a fresh page, and forced yourself to think happy thoughts. Thanksgiving night came to mind first. Two days before everything happened. One of your happiest nights. As you sketched the curved lines, you could see the vivid colors, despite using only a simple pencil. It was certainly a night you didn’t want to forget.
Once the drawing was finished, you placed the cover back to the front. It was time to search through all your other books.
Sans and your relationship was slowly being rebuilt. Touch was definitely at the worst point. It took a week for you to be able to do more than hold hands. It was two days until you were able to hold hands even. Once you were open to more, Sans wasted no time to shower you with kisses, and hugged you with every chance he got. His clinginess was absolutely adorable.
He did his best to hide his nightmares from you. Before you could ask him to stay the night, he would already be out the door. When he did fall asleep with you, he would have safe nights most of the time. But when he did have nightmares, you were too scared to wake him up. You didn’t want to start all over again, but you didn’t want to watch him suffer in his sleep. You felt powerless though. Because of his frequent nightmares, Sans would stay with you throughout most of the day, being as he normally would.
You were drawing one of your flowers while sitting in his lap. His arms were wrapped around your abdomen with his head resting on your left shoulder. A movie was playing in the background, and while Sans was watching the movie, his eyes would constantly wander to watch your hands as they moved. It was interesting to watch the process of your drawing. How you spent a few seconds staring at the bud itself, then turned your gaze back to the paper to draw the lines you had memorized. Every once and awhile he would nuzzle your cheek, making you squeak and scold him lightly before returning to your art.
His eyes began to wander over to the blue sketchbook patiently waiting on the other end of the table. You still had yet to show him the contents, and the bookmark inching closer to the last page told him these were recent drawings.
“hey, babe,” he started, grabbing your attention.
“Yeah?” you hummed in reply, still drawing.
“what’s in the blue book over there?” you froze mid stroke. Not always the best of signs, “hey, it’s okay. you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
“N-no,” you stuttered, setting the book and pencil in your hands on the table, “y-you can if you w-want to see i-it.”
“thanks, babe,” he snuck a kiss to your cheek before leaning over to pick up the blue sketchbook, making sure you didn’t fall off his lap. You already buried your face in your hands, muttering out apologies even before he opened the book up. His chuckle rumbled throughout his chest as he flipped open the cover. Well, he didn’t know what to expect.
He wasn’t sure if seeing himself drawn all all the pages was what he should have expected.
It was just like the drawings of the woman he had seen all those weeks ago. Only he didn't seem to have ‘sad’ expressions per se. They all had his trademark smile, and as he turned to the later pages, his expressions were filled with adoration, love, even flustered faces. You were still mumbling apologies as he got to your most recent drawing.
“color me surprised, but they’re great,” he patted your head to reassure you.
“I-I like to draw p-people I don't want to f-forget,” you stammered out, blushing furiously behind your hands.
So that woman meant something to you. Now he just needed to figure out why.
“don’t worry, i think it's sweet,” a mischievous grin grew on his face as he pecked you several times on the cheek, “jus’ like you.”
“Sans, stop!” you giggled, pushing him away.
Your relationship was getting stronger by the day. You honestly don't know what happened.