It's Not Too Late (Male Reader Edition)

You've made a terrible mistake. You moan and try to shift a little and instantly sharp pain flashes through your head. You try to breathe through it, but thanks to your clogged nose, you only end up coughing.

Yep. You're sick. Damn it! You were supposed to get stuff done today! Your head swims with any sort of movement, making your empty stomach churn. But you're desperate for some water and moving inch by inch, you make your way over to the kitchen. The trip wears you out like a workout but the water is heaven on your burning throat. Blearily, you look through the rest of the cabinets. No medicine or soup or any of the usual things you use to make yourself better. You were used to taking care of yourself when you got sick but this time you were vastly unprepared. You slump into the kitchen chair, wiping your nose with your sleeve. Every movement feels like torture against your sensitive skin. What to do? The little shop down in the circle should have what you needed right? It would be a ten-minute trip. You slowly pull yourself up, stumbling a little. Your legs are on fire after the workout last night. Maybe fifteen minutes. You put on shoes, not bothering to change out of your p.j.'s and shuffle to the door.

Man, how pathetic to get sick like this after your big talk last night. Just from a little run in the rain! Sans would certainly have a thing or two to say if he saw you now.

"_____?"

Crap. Why are you not surprised? Speak of the devil and all that. You slowly turn away from your door. Sans is halfway down the stairs, clearly heading out somewhere. He's looking up at you with concern.

"you ok there? you look awful."

Gee thanks, why don't you tell me how you really feel? That's what you try to say but you only manage to croak out the "Gee, thanks," before you're seized by another harsh coughing fit. This one doubles you over and you brace yourself on the wall.

"oh my god." Sans presses a hand over his face. "i don't believe this. you actually got sick."

You cough a few more times and fight to get your breath back. You don't have the energy to retort. You stagger over to the stairs. "Believe....me. 'M not...happy about...it."

He's suddenly right by your side. You blink groggily at him. How did he move so fast?

"careful there," he warns you, pulling you back from the steps. "don't think you should be pushing yourself right now. where're you heading?"

"Store," you murmur, weakly trying to push past him. If you lost your resolve now, there was no way you'd make it down and back. "Need medicine and soup."

Gently, but firmly, Sans pulls you back to your apartment. He opens the door and leads you back inside. "i'll go get the stuff for you. what exactly do you need?"

You feel so bad, but now your head is spinning and you want nothing more than to lie back down. "Cough syrup. Chicken noodle soup. Crackers." You fish inside your wallet for cash but Sans takes it out of your semi-numb fingers and sets it aside.

"anything else?" he asks gently, helping you ease back onto the bean bag. You shake your head, wincing at the stabs of pain.

"Sorry," you croak, letting your eyes close. After a minute, you feel his phalanges run through your hair. The movement is so soft and soothing that you sigh deeply, a small degree of relief filling your aching head. "Hmm that feels nice." He continues the motion and you dimly feel his other hand press against your forehead.

"you've got a pretty bad fever," he says grimly.

You crack open an eye. "How can you tell without skin?"

"'m not only made outta bone pal," he says with a smile. "i can feel things just like you. now go back to sleep. i'll be back soon."

You make a little hum and let yourself sink back into darkness.

~~

Everything feels so light. Everything is hazy but you still feel completely safe. Blurred images float in front of your eyes. The concrete of the floor outside, the squeaking of a door opening and closing. A deep murmur and gentle touch. The color blue? It doesn't make sense. It just feels good to float and not worry about it.

~~

You're not sure how long you've been asleep when you next open your eyes. You blink slowly, your vision blurry. That's not your t.v. The pictures of monsters on the walls aren't yours. And the couch beneath your aching body most certainly isn't yours.

"you finally woke up."

You turn your head slowly to the voice, propped up by a thick pillow. Sans swims into view. He's sitting in front of you on the ground, book on his lap. He closes it and sets it aside. He offers you a glass of water and you gladly take it. You sip at it for a minute before you find your voice.

"Am I at your apartment?"

"uh yeah. sorry." Sans rubs the back of his skull, grinning a little sheepishly. "i came back and you were asleep. you didn't look very comfortable on the beanbag and you don't have a couch so i'd figure i'd let you use ours. easier to keep an eye on you that way."

So he had carried you over here. That's what the sensation of floating must have been from. Though you can't imagine what the heck that blue glow was about. Probably your fevered mind just playing tricks.

Sans pulls a plastic bag towards him. With a simple glance, you can tell there's more than just the three things you asked for. He starts pulling stuff out; Advil, various soups, a six-pack of 7-UP, several packages of different types of crackers, honey, herbal teas, Nyquil, Dayquil, counter cough syrup and a hot water bottle.

"i've never had to deal with a sick human before, y'know? so i asked the store lady what i should do and she started listing stuff so i'd figured it wouldn't hurt to just get everything right? 'm sorry if it's the wrong stuff, i can go back if you need something else." He starts pulling off the wrapping of the cough syrup. "probably best to start with this. says it's supposed to help your throat. heh, makes sense. it's called cough syrup after all. i'm a skeleton, i don't even have a throat. paps hasn't ever needed something like this either so i hope it works."

He's babbling. You reach out and put your hand on his cheek, stopping his rant. He was worried about you. You fight to keep tears from your eyes. "Thank you," you say softly. "It's perfect."

He visibly relaxes, then pours you a cup of the syrup. He's watching you in a fascinated sort of way as you swallow the medicine and make a face. "Ugh. Gross."

"huh. guess human and monster medicine is the same in that sense."

"Monsters get sick?" You hand the cup back and he starts opening up a 7-UP.

"not quite in the same way that humans do. monsters are made up mostly of magic. there's a little bit of biology involved. obviously not for me and paps but every one is so widely varied, in terms of what makes them up that it just depends on the individual. but most illnesses have to do with a monster's soul." He hands you the soda.

"Soul?" This was unexpected. "I didn't take you for a religious type."

Sans waves a hand dismissively. "'m not talking about the idea of a heaven or hell kind of soul. it's an indisputable fact. everyone has a soul. paps, undyne. i have one. so do you." His gaze flickers downward to your chest for a brief second, like he's looking at something. You draw the blanket closer around yourself without thinking and Sans blushes lightly.

"Can you see mine?" you ask curiously.

"if i focus," he mumbles, playing with a can of soup.

You glance at your chest. Now you were insanely curious. You squint, as if that would make your soul appear. Sans chuckles gently.

"humans don't have the ability to make souls visible."

You cease your efforts, leaning back tiredly against the pillow. "That's a shame. I'd like to see it."

Sans goes quiet for a minute. "if...if you want, i can show it to you. but-!" he cuts off your brightened gasp. "only when you're better. sound good?"

You pout a little, but nod. "Yeah. Thanks Sans."

Sans smiles, and places his hand back against your forehead. His eye sockets tighten slightly. "you're still pretty hot."

"Why thank you."

He blinks at you. "heh. good one," he admits with a laugh and another, slightly deeper blush. He stands, still holding a can of soup. "feel up to eating?"

Your head is still pounding, despite sleeping. "I think I'll just munch on some crackers. what time is it anyway?"

"a little after three," he answers as he heads into the kitchen. Wow, you did sleep for a long time. You grab a pack of oyster crackers and start nibbling on them. Sans soon returns and sits back down on the ground and turns the t.v on. It flickers to the science channel and some show about dinosaurs is on. After checking with you, he leaves it there and starts sipping from a bottle of ketchup. The two of you watch the show for a bit. You tap Sans on the skull gently.

"You don't have to sit on the floor." You sit up slowly and scoot down the couch a little, moving your pillow. You pat the spot your head had been and after a moment's hesitation, Sans stands up and takes the spot. He grabs the pillow from you and places it on his lap. Oh. That's not quite what you had meant but...well. The couch really isn't that big and your aching legs really don't want to squish up. You lay down, hoping that he'll take the redness of your face as a result of the fever and not your blush. You get comfy and glance up at him. His cheekbones are a deeper blue than you've ever seen them and you can't stop a giggle that turns into a cough.

"For a bony guy, you're pretty comfy to lay on," you say when you get your breath back.

"i told ya before; i'm made of more than just bone." His phalanges start brushing against your head again. "this ok?"

"Uh huh," you say with a happy sigh. You resume watching the show, but you're not really processing what's happening. You're starting to feel sleepy again. Every brush of your hair brings a gentle wave of relief from your headache. After a while, you notice Sans' strokes are getting slower until he stops altogether, letting his hand rest against your cheek.

"i can feel the heat. it feels like you're burning," he whispers softly. "i was reading about human sickness while you were sleeping. it said that fevers are human's way of burning out the illness." he rubs his thumb against your skin. "you humans set your insides on fire to get better."

You're pretty sure it's not that intense, but you can't bring yourself to interrupt him. He had actually researched human sickness? Just because you got a little cold?

"humans haven't had magic since the war," he continues. Now you can tell he's talking more to himself. "but your natural resources...your determination. it's astounding. you're astounding."

"I'm really not." The words slip out, barely loud enough to hear. Your emotions are beginning to bubble up. When was the last time you had been fussed over like this? When someone had actually cared? Not because you were a responsibility, or a patient....but a friend? He was treating you with such genuine kindness. You didn't know what to do. "Just look at me. I got so sick for such a pathetic reason."

He starts rubbing your head again. "humans get sick. there's not always a reason for it. no point in blaming yourself for it."

"I can't even take care of a little cold like this on my own. You were heading somewhere, right? I pulled you away from what you were doing, right?"

"'s not a big deal ______."

He silently offers a tissue, and you wipe at your face. A quiet sob escapes from you. You're not even sure why you're crying.

"why are you sorry?" he finally asks. He hasn't stopped rubbing your head and you want to trust him. You want to trust him so bad it feels like your heart...like your SOUL is screaming for it. You open your mouth but the words are stuck in your throat. You're so scared. Scared of blurting out the terrible truth, of showing him the scars on your arms. The scars that YOU dug into yourself. You're scared that he'll leave. But mostly you're scared because you know that he would be right to do so.

"You're being so kind to me," you finally whisper. "I don't deserve it. Sans, I'm a broken, messed up person. I'm trying so hard and I'm so happy being friends with you and Papyrus. But...things have happened in the past. Things I can't change. I don't want to be a burden to you. If I get sick like this so easily, how can I possibly handle the rest of it?"

He doesn't answer, and you feel his hand leave your head. This is it. He's gonna tell you to leave. You grit your teeth, but another sob slips out. But then, his phalanges very gently cup your chin, turning your head slightly until you're looking at him. His eye sockets are glowing more softly than you've ever seen them and he's gazing at you compassionately.

"listen to me _____." He rubs away some of the tears still falling down your face. "believe me when i say i know what it feels like to have nonredeemable sins crawling on your back. to feel like there's no point in life. no point in trying. there was a time in my life when i gave up. you wanna know what i see when i look at your soul?" He puts a single digit against your chest, just below your collar bone and your heartbeat speeds up just a little. "you've got a soul that's been hurt real bad pal. it's still hurting. even i can see that. it's been cracked and glued back together with pure determination. it's fragile, and solid as steel. it's known complete darkness, but is holding on to light. it's a soul that is still fighting. a soul like that? a soul like yours, is not a burden."

His words, his kind, wonderful words unleash a flood in you. You turn over and wrap your arms around his stomach, crying heavily into his shirt. He's so solid; you can feel a very soft hum of energy pulsing through him, giving him shape. He holds you as you cry, rubbing your back reassuringly. You go through several tissues; your nose is dripping an unsightly amount of snot and your breakdown leads to several coughing fits. When you finally calm down, you continue holding Sans tightly. His physical presence is so calming you can't bring yourself to let go just yet.

"Sorry," you murmur again.

"are you feeling any better?" Sans had been mostly quiet while you cried, though you could tell that he was still concerned about your fever.

You cough loudly. "My head isn't thanking me for that, but I personally feel better. I should probably take some of that advil." You start to sit up but Sans gently pushes your head back down to the pillow.

"i got it."

You hear the rattle of the pill bottle and you're surprised to see it in his grip. You were certain the medicine was still in the bag on the floor. Your head hurts too much to question it. You take a few pills and lay back down. You groan, rubbing at your face. "Where's Pap at?"

"he had work."

"Oh? Where at?"

"he helps a friend with tending gardens. he's got quite a gift for making sculptures. i told him you were sick and he plans on bringing you a get well present. so i'll warn you when he gets here so you can pretend to be asleep."

You tap your knuckles against his ribs. "You're mean."

"the meanest." He starts rubbing your head again. Dang, he was pressing his full advantage with that move, wasn't he? As your eyelids start to get heavy again, you hear him clear his throat. "hey. so when you're all better, there's a place downtown i wanna check out. it's a space museum and theater. do you wanna go?"

"Hmm," you hum, almost asleep. "Yeah. Sounds fun. Like a date."

His phalanges twitch and a wide smile crosses his face. "heh. yeah. a date."

You fall asleep before his words really sink in.