Frisk and Sans were drunk. Or, more accurately, Frisk was drunk and Sans was merely tipsy. Quite a difference in the effects of magic-infused vodka. Wingdings had told them not to bother him, and Papyrus was out for the night.

So what did the two do?

Drink.

And drink.

And drink.

Turns out, Frisk was flirty when she was drunk. When she had first flirted with, Sans had been happy to play that game, but an hour and many bad pickup lines later, he was done.

He managed to escape to his room, shutting his door behind him in hopes that a drunken Frisk wouldn't be able to get it open, and collapsed on his bed. Shutting his eyes, he ran his hand down his face and sighed. He had been making sure to be good around her, not pushing it too far-to not make her uncomfortable or to save himself for falling deeper, he wasn't sure- but christ was she making it hard tonight.

He heard his door open, and let out a groan, not up to dealing with more of Frisk's pickup lines. However, when he looked up, he was met with Frisk standing there, the empty vodka bottle hanging loosely in her hand and an… odd look on her face.

"Sweetheart?" he asked, sliding up on the bed and pulling himself into a sitting position. "You good?"

"Sleep with me." She mumbled, before letting out a soft hiccup.

He blinked, then said "O-okay, I mean we've fallen asleep together before, so I guess this is fine… is it a nightmare thing? 'Cause if ya need to talk, I understand, I get them too-"

"No." Frisk said, her tone becoming demanding. She dropped to bottle and it rolled away as she climbed up onto the bed and straddled him. "Sleep with me."

Sans let in a sharp breath at the words and her actions. He was sure his entire skull was red. "U-um, listen toots, I'd love to, trust me. But right now, y-you're-uh-drunk, and not in your right mind. I don't wanna take advantage of ya, y'know?" he said, before nervously scratching the back of his skull. "And-uh-since you won't remember this anyway I might as well tell ya-I want our first time to be s-somethin' special, s-something you'll r-remember."

As he talked, Frisk slouched more and more, before leaning against him and resting her head on his clavicle. She let out a sigh, and Sans's breath hitched as he felt her warm breath on his neck. "I-I like you." She said after a moment of silence. "Like, really like you. And I don't know why, I mean you've done horrible things. You assaulted me, treated me like a whore, killed people right in front of me—but at the same time, I do know. You're smart, and funny, and badass, and you like space, and drink mustard straight from the bottle, and make fun of your brother, and when you care for people and love them, you love hard, and I see that in the way you treat your brothers and every time I see it, it just makes me like you even more, if that's even possible." Sans felt something drip onto his ribs and realized that-to his horror-she was crying. "And when I first realized this, I was so confused. That's what I had talked to Toriel about, that's what I meant—but quickly my brain began creating scenarios. Daydreams, really. Of us going on dates, having picnics in the park, and going out to dinner at a restaurant while dressed to the nines, or sitting on top of Mount Ebbot at night and watching the stars and you pointing out all the constellations to me and holding my hand while tracing them and- and… and I also have been having dreams. About you, every night, taking me, making me yours. And when we first met you made it clear that was fine, but as time went on, I- I began to question if you really meant it, if you really liked me or if you were just keeping up the flirty badboy façade, and I'm just so scared." Her words had been tumbling out in a flow, like water being realeased from a dam, but now they slowed, as if you she was choosing each one carefully. "I want you. And… I want you to want me. But I don't believe that that could ever happen. I have so much shit in the past that you don't know about, and that you need to know about, but I'm afraid. So instead I just keep quiet, but I want nothing more than to just tell you, to let it all out, and to ask if… if you'll let me be yours." After those words, she fell silent, her breathing shaky as the tears continued.

Sans was frozen, his mind struggling to process all the information. They both stayed silent for a while, and Sans finally managed to say "Sweetheart, I-" before hearing a soft snore.

He let out a sigh. She always falls asleep right when I'm ready to speak, huh. he thought, before slipping out from under her and tucking her into his bed. He paused for a moment before giving a soft kiss on the top of her head, and leaving the room.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Frisk opened her eyes and quickly shut them, the light streaming in from the open window far too bright. She cautiously opened one eye a bit, then the other, and slowly worked towards having them open all the way. Once she could see, her gaze fell upon two pills and a glass of water on the side table. She inspected the pills for a moment before seeing that they were just advil, and downed them in hopes it would get rid of her pounding headache.

God, how drunk had she gotten last night?

She scrambled to organize her memory. She remembered drinking with Sans-oh god she had used those pickup lines on him- and then she gone into his room and somehow had ended up sitting on his bed and she talked to him about… something. She wracked her brain to remember more, but it seemed that was all she was going to get. She finally noticed that she was in Sans's room-wait the last she remembered she was on his bed had she- she lifted the sheets up and was relieved when she was met with her fully clothed body. Okay, so she hadn't done that with him. Good.

She stumbled out of the bed, her body still in the process of waking up, and walked in to the living room. Sans was sitting on the couch reading a book with glasses taped to his skull. She held in a chuckle at that, and sat down on the other end of the couch.

Sans eyed her suspiciously. She hadn't said anything or acted weird, so it seemed his assumption about her not remembering anything was correct.

"Sans," she said, biting her lip. "What… exactly happened last night? I remember drinking with you and getting drunk-sorry about those pickup lines by the way- and at one point I followed you into your room and talked to you about… something, but I don't remember what."

Sans closed his book and set it down along with his glasses. "Well, you remember the beginning well enough. Like you said-you got drunk, used some god awful pickup lines, and then followed me when I went to my room. As far as what you said…" he paused. He hadn't slept last night, instead caught up in the same internal struggle that was going on right now. Should he lie about what she said to spare her any embarrassment over it, or should he tell her the truth and hope that at least parts of her drunken rambling was true?... no, she deserved to know the truth, the whole truth, even if his hopes were in vain. "Last night," he said, god I hope I made the right choice, "you-uh-well you started off by-uh-asking to sleep with me. A-and I turned ya down, y'know, you were drunk, not in your right mind, not consenting, all that stuff. But then you-uh-kept talking. About…a-about how you l-liked me. About how you didn't know why but ya did know why and you listed off a lot of reasons, most of which weren't true. A-and then you started talking about these d-daydreams you had about us-uh-dating. And then about these o-other dreams y-you'd been having about uh-me a-and you-uh-together-uh-sexually. And then ya kinda finished it all off with somethin' about how you-uh-wanted me, and you wanted me to-uh-want you, and how you had a lot of shit you hadn't told me about and needed to tell me about, but you were scared and never did tell me or-uh-ask if I-I'd let you b-be mine." He hadn't looked at her once during the entire thing, instead staring intently at his hands nervously fidgeting in his lap. At least they weren't shaking. As he continued, he began to scratch at his palm, causing a small layer of dust to come off. "A-and I know you didn't actually mean any of the things you said, you were drunk and rambling and just saying whatever and I know that but-" he slowed down, knowing she needed to understand what he said next. "But, I just want to say that I-uh-like you. And that'd I'd love to go on dates with you and treat you nice, and then take you at night, and wake up to your beautiful face in the mornings. And I understand why you don't like me, I'm harsh a-and I'm rude and mean and a straight up asshole and I've treated ya like shit even though I'm the one here who's shit, heh you think you have baggage honey I've got loads, and-"

"Sans." Frisk cut him off. He kept staring down at his lap, oh look now his hands were shaking, fucking joy. "Sans, look at me."

He complied, and sucked in a breath at how close she was. He must have been so distracted by his thoughts he hadn't noticed her moving. His hands began to shake even more when he saw that her eyes were brimming with tears, and scratched his palm harshly when a tear streaked down her face.

"Sans." She said. God he loved the way she said his name. Too bad he wasn't ever going to hear it again, with her never talking to him again after this. God why did he do that he should have just told her half of the truth, the part about what she said, not all that shit about him, she didn't need to know that. "Sans. It was true."

…What?

"All of it. Everything I said last night. It was true."

No no no this is dream this isn't happening there's no way she actually meant any of that there's no way she would like him-

"Please, just stop thinking for one minute, and listen to me." Frisk said, gripping his shoulders. His hands stilled. "I. Like. You. Okay? I know I listed all my reasons off last night, so I'm not going to make you hear them again, but they were all true. And there are so many more, so many reasons as to why I like you and why I want to be with you. And don't ever say those words again, about you being shit and me lying to you, because it's not true. You're amazing and wonderful and I would never, never lie to you about something as important as this."

A single glowing red tear built its way up in Sans's eye socket and slid down his cheek. "You mean it sweetheart?" he asked, his voice quiet and soft.

Frisk nodded. "Absolutely." She said.

More tears built up in Sans's eyesockets, but he paid them no mind. Instead he lifted one hand and cupped her cheek, rubbing his thumb over the smooth skin. He leaned in slightly as he cupped her other cheek, and looked at her, asking for permission. She gave the barest of nods, and he leaned in and kissed her.

Everything he had dreamed was nothing compared to this. Her soft lips felt like heaven against his bone, and he kissed her with fervor, sending a bit of magic towards her lips. He used her surprised gasp as an opportunity to slip his tongue inside her mouth, trying to reach every nook and cranny. Her tongue met his and they danced feverishly, battling for dominance. Sparks of magic began to pop in the air as he ran one of his hands through her hair, his phalanges playing with the soft strands. She was amazing, she was wonderful, she was everything.

They both drew back, gasping for air. Frisk rested her forehead against his skull. He let out a weak chuckle at her disheveled appearance. Flushed cheeks, swollen lips, and panting for breath.

She was perfect.