AN: Woo dang almost forgot to post this before bed! Working on some stuff for kinktober... -waggles eyebrows- Anyways, hope you enjoy! Also, I apologize if there's any errors, I didn't do my third edit like I usually do but I figured you guys would be willing to overlook a couple of little things in favor of actually getting the chapter out on time XD I'll come back and do a last edit tomorrow when I'm more awake and capable of critical thinking...

Anyways, enjoy and please make sure to leave a review! Let me know what your favorite part was, I love hearing that!

Winter in your Bones
Chapter Eleven: How to canonize a skeleton

Sans stays that night after Papyrus leaves, and the next one as well. In spite of the moment you shared on the sofa (or perhaps because of it), Sans makes no other moves on you for the length of his stay. Frustrated as that makes you feel, you're also grateful for all his help around the cabin while you recover. He takes care of Lucy and Merlin for you, and does the dishes after every meal (something that apparently threatens to make Papyrus' jaw drop straight off his face when you text him as much and include a sneakily snapped photograph as proof). The third night, Papyrus returns for another visit and when he goes away again, he takes Sans with him.

Other than the uncomfortable peeling of the skin on your face, hands, and toes, you're fully recovered and can't really justify asking Sans to stay again when he no doubt wants to sleep in his own bed. Honestly, he probably didn't need to stay the night before, either, but you like to think you weren't the only one who wanted Sans to stick around.

Having the cabin to all to yourself with only Lucy for company feels lonely after having someone else knocking about the place for a few days in a row. Still, you've plenty to catch up on in regards to writing since you got little done while recuperating. Typing had proved painful for the first few days, so you'd finally given up and now you're having to work overtime to catch up. You can't spend all your time working, though, so one evening you dig through some long untouched craft supplies under your bed and fetch out a bag of yarn and some knitting needles you haven't touched for months.

Your mother is a big knitter, and had taught you in turn growing up, though it's something you really only do in fits and bursts. You take up the hobby again now, and after a few rough starts you begin your new project while you watch old movies at night before bed.

Wednesday rolls around and you think you're going to go stir crazy from how much time you've been spending not only indoors working, but alone. Funny how quickly one could get used to having someone else around…

Needless to say, you're delighted when Sans shows up bright and early as has become habit. So much so that you actually hug him at the door, taking him by surprise with the overt show of affection.

You're just about to release him out of sheer embarrassment when his arms go around you and he chuckles as he pulls you in close. "miss me, sweetheart?" he asks, voice lightly teasing.

Your lashes flutter against your cheeks at the familiar, wonderful way his laugh reverberates in his chest and carries on into you. Unable to resist the temptation, you press your face into the fabric of his hoodie where it peeks out from the collar of his coat and say, "A bit."

"only a bit?" Sans asks with a soft huff, grip on you tightening fractionally as your breath tickles his vertebrae. "i must really be slipping," he adds and pushes you gently back in through the door and kicks it shut behind him before any more of the warm air escapes.

Lucy barks excitedly at the new arrival, but neither of you pay her any mind as you pull apart just enough to let you get a look at each other. The moment seems to stretch impossibly long between you, and you swear Sans leans in fractionally, eyes half-lidded as he regards you with an almost portentous thoughtfulness. You tilt your head subtly, a silent invitation that makes the skeleton's blue tongue flick out to wet his lips, breath seeming to come only with a great deal of effort.

The moment passes, though, and Sans pulls back further rather than closing the distance, at least until he lifts one hand to brush a few strands of hair back from your face. The pad of his gloved thumb brushes over your cheek, and you know he's looking you over to see how well you've recovered in his absence.

"looking good, kid," he says eventually, and you don't think you're imagining the fact that his voice seems lower than normal when he speaks. "feeling better?"

"Yeah," you say and smile as you fight the urge to lean into his hand as it lingers on your face. No need to look desperate, after all.

Even if you are.

"The worst of it seems done with, except for a bit on my toes," you say and show him your fingers, which are back to normal, if a little tender still.

Sans releases his hold on you and tugs his gloves off before taking your hands in his and examining them closely. His fingers graze lightly over yours, and you watch the way in which the plates of his palm fold so smoothly with every gesture. When he's satisfied, Sans surprises you by kissing the back of your hand and winking slyly at you. Your heart jumps in your chest and you laugh breathily at his antics.

"i'm glad m'lady's hands are as pristine as ever," he says and you snort. "ready to go?" the monster asks and reluctantly looses his hold on you.

"Yeah, just let me grab my things," you say and move to do just that. Once you've collected your purse and donned your usual protective layers, you turn to regard him surreptitiously. Sans is still standing just inside the door, crouched down and petting Lucy absently with one hand while he texts someone with the other.

Deciding to take advantage of his distraction, you collect the scarf that had been hidden under your coat on its hook, and drop it across his shoulders. He blinks in surprise and brushes his fingers over your gift, confused. "what's this?" he asks.

"A scarf," you answer with a cheeky grin, a blush creeping up into your cheeks in spite of your best efforts.

Sans' mouth twists in a wry smile as he pushes himself back to his feet. "yeah, alright captain obvious," he snorts and tugs it off to get a better look at it.

You'd knitted it with a thick, charcoal gray yarn made of alpaca fleece, some of the softest stuff you've ever felt, and apparently it is for Sans too if the way he keeps running his fingers across it is anything to go by. You had originally bought the yarn with the intent of making something for your father for his birthday, but considering that was in the summer, you'd abandoned the project in favor of a more seasonally appropriate gift. You're glad you did now.

You used a thick cable stitch for the pattern and made it long enough to either double up and loop around his neck, or wrap several times, depending on his preference. You take the scarf back from him, fold it in half, then toss it lightly over his head and push the ends through the loop to secure it comfortably around his neck.

"I made it for you," you admit shyly as you adjust it a little and tuck the tails down the front of his jacket to keep out the cold. When you finally glance up at him from under your lashes, his eye sockets are wide with surprise, and his cheeks are dusted a faint shade of blue. "I, um-" you clear your throat and brush your hands across the front of his jacket to neaten it again, then shove them into your pockets before forcing yourself to continue. "It's a thank you for taking care of me," you say, dropping your eyes again.

"you… you didn't have to do that," Sans tells you, but there's an almost awed quality to his voice that draws your gaze back up to his face. He's running his fingers along the soft yarn of his new scarf again, the gesture verging on reverent now.

The fact that he obviously likes your gift eases something in your chest and gives you the nerve to smile brightly at him. "I wanted to. I mean, it's really not enough, considering everything-"

"i love it," he says with a fervency that surprises you and leaves you temporarily speechless. He's looking at you again, his eyelights bigger and brighter than the norm as he buries his nose in the soft knit, successfully hiding his own blush under the guise of getting a feel for the scarf. "thanks, sweetheart," he says, voice only a little muffled by the fabric.

"You're very welcome," you say, smiling broadly.

The trip into town flies by in a blur of eighties rock and a debate on the best film soundtrack of the last decade. It was a losing battle for Sans considering he simply doesn't have your breadth of film knowledge, but together you do come up with a list of movies to acquire and watch.

When you arrive, you go to your favorite pizza place for the sake of introducing Sans to the best pizza in a few thousand miles (if not anywhere, in your opinion). He is skeptical at first, but after taking some suggestions you both place your order. You each wind up getting a locally brewed beer that the restaurant is well known for, and Sans is impressed. He's even more impressed when the food arrives and the pizza successfully lives up to your hype.

Together, you linger over lunch, laughing and chatting about whatever crosses your minds, and it occurs to you that this is a bit of a date scenario, if unofficially. You did just sort of drag him along after all, rather than properly inviting him.

"so," he says after taking a drink of his beer and leaning back in the booth. You look at him in silent question from across the table and he flashes you a little smirk. "world class pizza and beer… you really know how to show a monster a good time, sweetheart."

You flush a little and laugh as you pick absently at a leftover bit of crust. "Told you it was good," you say smugly.

He gives a sort of half bow in recognition of your victory and you grin. The considering look he's giving you from behind half-lidded eyes as he rests his chin on the back of one hand is making you nervous, though, especially considering that little grin of his.

"i wonder," he muses, a finger trailing absently around the rim of his glass. "are there rules about retroactively inviting a girl on a date?" Your blush deepens, and his grin grows. "cuz this was a pretty good one. seems a shame to let it go to waist, y'know?"

"I- uh," you say, stumbling over your words and laughing to cover your nerves at his question. Damn him for being so smooth about it, the bastard. "Well… I don't see why not."

"oh good," he says, voice practically a purr. He cocks his head slightly to one side and lets one eye slip closed as he regards you with the other. "clever you, beating me to the punch."

Your eyes go wide, and you begin to object, then close your mouth with a snap, rethinking your tactics. "Well, didn't have much of a choice did I?" you ask and lean back in your booth. "You've been such a tease, a clever trap was the only way I thought I'd ever wind up on a date with you."

"tease?!" he objects with a startled laugh, sitting up again. "i'm not-" he begins, but you cut him off.

"You are!" you say, delighted by his protest. "If I did to you half of what you've done to me-"

He's in the booth next to you, suddenly, making your objection dissolve into a startled squeak at his appearance. Sans pushes in close, forcing you into the corner with his body, hands going to either side of your shoulders and pinning you there without laying a finger on you. He leans in, eyes bright and sharp as they burn into yours, face inches from your own.

"sweetheart, if you knew the kind of things you'd been doin' to me without even realizing it, you'd write the pope and beg 'im to fuckin' saint me."

His voice is deep and rolling, verging on a growl that sends a primal shiver right up your spine and a rush of heat straight south. Sans isn't angry, you know, but you've never seen this side of him before either. You want to, though. You want more, and you feel lightheaded when he leans in so close his lips brush your cheek as he murmurs, "so don't you talk to me about teasing, darlin'. turnabout's fair play, is all."

"You make me sound downright wicked," you breathe, turning your head to return the favor of murmuring tortuously against his cheek. He moves closer, invading your personal space in a way you have no objection to. In fact, you tilt your chin up and regard him from under your lashes; when your eyes meet the breath all rushes out of him and he forces himself to sit back.

"oh, you are," Sans mutters more to himself than for your benefit, and a slow smile pulls at your lips while you struggle to get your heart rate under control again.

You leave after that and make quick work of your errands. The ride back to your cabin is quieter than the one into town, though not uncomfortably so, and you wonder if you're just imagining the air of anticipation that seems to be hanging over the pair of you. Sans spends a great deal of the drive gazing out the window, fiddling absently with the end of his new scarf, seeming completely unbothered, leading you to think maybe it's just you after all.

It's died down some by the time you arrive home, and things seem to be business as usual while he helps you bring your groceries in and you get dinner started, as has become tradition. You've got a secret weapon a little more tailored to your goals for the evening than beer, however, and when you pull out the ingredients after dinner, Sans gives you a curious look.

"Ever had mulled wine?" you ask with a smile as he wanders over from the living room to watch.

"lemme mull that over a moment," he remarks with a thoughtful expression that makes you snort as you pour the bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon you picked up at the store into a pot along with a healthy dose of apple cider. "mmm, can't say i have, actually," the skeleton remarks as he presses his chest to your back and slips his arms around your waist while you measure out some honey and add that to the pot as well, using your finger to swipe along the inside of the cup to make sure you get as much honey in the mix as possible. Before you can begin to tug yourself from Sans' grip so you can wash your hand free of sticky sweetness, though, he catches your wrist and guides it up, making you turn a little to look at him, confused. Sans gives you a lazy smile and proceeds to take your finger in his mouth and suck it clean, tongue slipping along the digit with a soft, electric tingle you recognize all too well from the times you've shared drinks. A shiver ripples up your back as the breath rushes out of you, and though the inside of the skeleton's mouth is curiously cool compared to a human's, the hum of his magic over your newly recovered skin is better than you ever could have imagined.

"Sans," you breathe and try to turn, but the arm he still has looped around your waist tightens and pins you in place against him. His teeth graze lightly over your knuckle as he pulls your finger from his mouth and releases your wrist.

"keep going," he tells you, nodding towards the pot on the stove, voice rumbling deep in his chest and bringing goosebumps to your skin. "i want to try it."

You want to try him, but you manage not to say as much and turn your attention back to the task at hand, difficult though it may be with his pubic bone pressed into the cleft of your ass. It's unfair, really, but you manage to not only add the necessary spices, but zest an entire orange into the mix before bringing the lot to a boil. While the mulled wine simmers for a few minutes, sticks of cinnamon bobbing on the dark surface as it does, Sans peels a second orange for you. He manages this with his arms still around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder while you stir the pot occasionally, enjoying the heady scent of spiced wine and citrus that now fills the cabin.

Sans sets aside the orange skin for you to add later, then breaks the fruit itself apart into its segments. He offers one to you and you take it, lips grazing his fingertips briefly before he takes a second slice and pops it in his own mouth. Between you, you polish off the orange by the time the alarm goes off, signaling that your concoction is done. The skeleton pulls away so you can shift the pot off the burner without threat of scalding yourself, and moves into the living room while you pour the spiced beverage into two large mugs and add a strip of orange peel to each.

By the time you join Sans on the sofa, he's got a fire going in the grate, and he smiles at you when you press a mug into his hands. "smells good," he tells you before taking a sip. When he does, his eyebrows lift and a pleased little sound escapes him. "tastes good too," he says earnestly and you grin happily at his praise as you settle yourself down on the sofa.

"Right?" you agree. "I really should make it more often, but I don't generally keep oranges around and it's just not the same without them."

Sans nods thoughtfully and sits beside you, though not so close as you might wish. He sits back and rests one ankle on his knee so his femur winds up brushing your leg, but his attention seems all for his mulled wine while he stares absently into the fire.

Quiet reigns for a time, interrupted only by the soft crackle of the fire. Eventually you turn to look at him and ask, "Tell me about the Underground?"

Your question catches him off guard and he almost snorts his drink. "why?" he asks when he's able to speak again, eyelights on your face, expression a mixture of surprise and dismay.

You shrug and smile disarmingly as you lean back against the cushions. "No reason, really," you say. "I'm just curious. You hear stories, of course, but I've never actually heard a monster talk about it. What was it like down there?" You hesitate then, and continue, "I mean, only if you want to. I understand if you don't."

"no, no it's fine," Sans replies, raising a hand to wave off your concern. His eyes go back to the fire once more, and after a minute's thought, he begins to tell you.

He doesn't give you much in the way of specifics about his own life, but that's okay. You're just pleased he's opening up enough to tell you about the Underground at all. Sans starts with descriptions of the various sectors that made up the once small world of monsters; from the Ruins all the way to the Capitol. You're enchanted by the thought of a land caught in eternal winter, though Hotland sounds an utter misery. Waterfall, however, is the place you decide you'd be most interested in visiting, given the opportunity.

Still, you find the concept of Sans living anywhere permanently snow locked surprising, and you tell him as much.

"yeah, you and me both, sweetheart," he admits with a grimace at his own expense and you smile. "pap and i thought we'd manage just fine up here considering where we lived below. thought we were real tough." He sighs and takes a sip of his wine as though to fortify himself before admitting, "turns out snow in snowdin and snow up here on the surface are two totally different phenomenons."

"Seriously?" you ask, intrigued. "Like, snow down there is less cold or something?"

He flashes you a grin. "bingo, got it in one, kid," he says and fires a shot at you with a finger gun that makes you chuckle. "turns out the weather in the underground is largely influenced by magic, which is why none of us were deep fried in hotland. Turns out it never got much colder that fifty degrees in snowdin."

"Fifty degrees?!" you exclaim and he nods with a sigh, mouth twisting wryly. "Lord, no wonder you broke into my cabin," you muse and he rolls his eyes.

"never gonna live that down, am I?" he asks.

You grin. "Nope!" He looks ready to challenge you on the subject but you intercept and poke him lightly in the sternum with a knuckle and say, "You broke into my house, Sans! And then you cuddled with a stranger! You will literally never live it down so you might as well get used to it."

He sags back against the cushions besides you with a sigh, but smiles. "alright, alright. fair enough, I guess," he says, but before you can get smug, he adds, "but if you start telling strangers, i will bring up the fact that you were completely willing to cuddle a strange skeleton that just showed up in your bed, no questions asked."

You let out a mock gasp of horror and he grins. "You dirty cheat."

"says you," he muses, voice teasing as he takes another drink of his mulled wine.

You're both halfway through your second mug when Sans begins to deviate from his practical description of the Underground and relates a story from years before that has you both doubled over in laughter.

"and there's- and there's papyrus up on the waterfall in that fuckin' speedo of his," the skeleton wheezes helplessly, brushing tears of mirth from his eye socket. "arms spread, looking like he's trying out for the goddamn olympic diving team..."

"No!" you gasp, knowing you're probably quite wicked for laughing so hard, but completely unable to help yourself.

"an' he just... just dives on into the lagoon," Sans continues when he manages to catch his breath a little. "problem is, he doesn't come back up right away, so i'm worried, of course. figured he had to have brained himself on the bottom or something, but he pops back up a moment later, only he- only he-" the skeleton struggles to speak around the laughter that's coming hard and fast now. "he sinks right back down again because he can't fuckin' float!"

You clap your free hand over your mouth and nearly spill your mug of wine as you laugh. "Oh god, cuz you guys are all bone!" you realize aloud, brushing away tears of mirth at the mental image provided.

He nods and a snort actually escapes him as he continues. "so he like... just keeps bouncing to get to the shore again, cuz he's too heavy to float, but too light to just walk it, so his head just keeps poppin' up like a goddamn whack-a-mole!"

"Oh the poor dear," you gasp, fanning your burning face as you laugh. "He didn't do that the whole way to shore, did he?"

Sans takes a moment until he can speak again, but when he can he says, "nah, undyne went in after him and dragged him out after about the fourth time when she could stop laughing long enough to get in the water."

"Thank god for that," you say.

"god bless fish women everywhere," Sans says and lifts his cup in toast and you mirror his gesture before you both take a drink. When the monster lowers his own mug, he gives you a considering sort of look that makes you quirk a brow at him.

He leans in, then, and for a heart stopping moment you think he's about to kiss you, but before you can react, he leans to one side and gently sets his empty cup on the coffee table. Your heart drops a little at the misunderstanding, but jumps right back into motion again when Sans straightens and says your name, a lilt of a question to those familiar syllables.

You hum in answer, not quite trusting your voice with the way he's looking at you with those heavy-lidded eyes of his. His knee brushes yours as he turns, closer than ever now, and drapes one arm across the back of the sofa so his fingers brush your shoulder distractingly. You sip your drink compulsively, and the small quirk of a smile that tugs at his lips threatens to make your heart literally skip a beat, though not so badly as the next words out of his mouth.

"can I kiss you?"

You barely manage to swallow your wine without choking and you wonder if you heard him right, but you don't quite dare ask him to repeat himself.

You nod dumbly, wishing to god you had something sexy, or at least clever to say in response to his question, but you're coming up blank, and anyways more talking means less kissing and you're very not okay with that.

Sans' smile borders on the relieved when it flits across his features before disappearing again in anticipation of what he's finally about to do. It makes you feel a little less like you're about to have a heart attack when you realize he's nervous as well, but then he's leaning in and catching your lips with his, and every other thought goes right out the window.

It's been a long time since you last kissed someone, and for half a stupid, terrified second you're afraid you've forgotten how, but then Sans' lips are moving against yours, gentle and coaxing, and it's just like riding a bike. Better, really, because the last guy you kissed definitely wasn't as good as Sans is proving to be, and it's a good thing he reaches between the two of you and takes your mug because you're pretty sure you would have forgotten it and spilled wine all over yourself and your sofa had he gone on much longer.

He has to break contact to set your cup on the coffee table, leaving you dazed and a little breathless, but you're ready for round two when he comes back, no longer dazed but on your game and hungry for more. Sans slips his hand along your cheek to twine in your hair and yours grab his shirt and haul him in closer so he's half on top of you. The feel of his lips against yours is sheer bliss, a little firmer than a human's, but plenty skilled to make up for the fact and you nibble on his bottom one experimentally. He groans a little at the sensation and when you release him again, his tongue brushes across your lips, making them buzz pleasantly in a more powerful echo of the way they had when you'd shared a beer all those weeks ago.

Eager for more, you part your teeth and he slips inside, making you exhale sharply as you swear to god you can feel that tingle shooting straight up through the roof of your mouth and into your brain where it spreads like so much static across the surface of your mind, a pleasant hum that threatens to render you senseless. It's a bit like licking a battery, you decide as his tongue coils and twines with yours, and that sweet, electric buzz is proving to be completely intoxicating.

You're both finally forced to come up for air and you say, "Holy shit," as he chuckles and trails kisses along the line of your jaw and then down to the crook of your neck.

"holy shit," he agrees breathlessly and you slip your hands up to his shoulders and allow your fingernails to graze lightly over the vertebrae at the base of his skull in a way you've been dreaming of doing for ages now. Sans' reaction is everything you could have hoped for as he gasps and shudders against your skin at the sensation, then pushes you down against the sofa cushions with the weight of his body as he shifts so he can wrap an arm around your waist and pull you in tight against him. You repeat the gesture, but continue it up and over the ridge at the base of his skull before sweeping your fingers all the way down the length of his spine to his hips. The way he arches his back in response makes you smile like the cat that got the cream, and your stomach tightens in anticipation at the almost desperate look Sans gives you when he pulls back to look at you.

"damn, sweetheart," he breathes unsteadily. "you're not supposed to know- " his words cut off abruptly with another helpless gasp when you lean up and run your tongue over the exposed edge of his clavicle where it's peeking out from the neck of his shirt. He swears quietly when you pull him in closer, forcing him down onto his elbows over you as you latch onto the bone and gently suck on it before grazing it with your teeth. When you finally relent and drop back into the cushions again, his face is flushed blue and his eyelights are the biggest you've ever seen them.

"To know what?" you ask and rub your hands lightly down his ribs to settle on the curve of his hips, taking pity on him for the moment and skipping over his spine without touching it.

He blinks, and it seems to you the lights of his eyes come back into focus as he looks at you and laughs weakly. "to know my every fucking weakness," Sans says, voice rough as he shifts to lay on his side beside you so you're nose to nose, legs intertwined.

"Says the guy with the electric tongue," you muse lightly with a snort, pretending not to notice the way his hand lingers on the swell of your hip now, or how he's slipping his arm under your head so he can pull you in closer to him. He pauses at your words, however, and gives you an amused, if puzzled, look.

"what?"

Your eyes go wide and you realize that he doesn't know the affect his physical magic has on you, or any other human most likely if his reaction is anything to go by. "Kissing you's a bit like licking a battery," you explain after a moment, deciding your earlier analogy is an apt enough comparison. He continues to look confused, though, and you realize he must have never actually tried that as a kid. Or maybe he had and it just didn't do anything... "It uh- it tingles," you continue, a little embarrassed at your lame description. "Just a sort of soft buzzing, like static if static was a feeling instead of a sound."

Sans blinks and looks thoughtful. "huh," he says, clearly intrigued if the shift of his brows is anything to go by. "lets run a series of tests, shall we?" the skeleton suggests with a slow smile that makes your pulse jump in anticipation, and you nod. "well, for a basis of comparison we should kiss again, i think," he continues, and you nod again, more than willing to assist.

You tilt your head back and his lips meet yours once more, demanding this time as he shifts so he's laying half on top of you now, forearm still under your neck granting him full control as you submit to his ministrations happily. He slips his tongue into your mouth once more and you sigh and shift, granting him access to the deepest parts of you, which he explores readily. That increasingly familiar electric tingle is back in full force and steals your breath away as he pushes deeper until your lips ache pleasantly with the pressure. You arch your back, bringing your chest into contact with his and he grips your hip with his free hand, making you rock enticingly against him in a way that sends a shiver running up his back.

Sans breaks contact, both of you dazed with the intensity of the kiss, and breathless, he asks, "well?"

"Definitely still tingly," you answer after a moment, struggling to put a coherent line of thought together in the wake of the kiss.

"good to know," he murmurs and drops a second kiss on your lips. You open your mouth again in silent invitation, but this time he simply sweeps his tongue over the flushed surface of your lips, making you hum and press them together when he's done, your eyes fluttering shut at the soft vibration his saliva kindles in your skin. "i'll take that as a sign of the same," Sans remarks with a huff of amusement and you just nod, helpless against the onslaught of pleasure.

The monster lifts his hand from your hip and uses it to turn your head to the side, granting him access to the column of your throat. He presses his lips to the rapid flutter of your pulse, then brushes his tongue over that as well. A little incoherent noise escapes you and your hands slip up his arms to grip his shoulders once more, fingertips grazing over the edge of his scapula. He doesn't bother to ask you how it felt, only continues south, stopping every inch or so to repeat the experiment and drawing much the same reaction from you each time as he slowly drives you mad.

"Sans," you gasp when his teeth graze the exposed skin of your shoulder. You gasp and cry out when he bites down on the muscle there; not hard enough to break the skin, but enough to hurt. It feels good, though, and the sensation is only enhanced when he immediately runs his tongue over the skin that no doubt now bears an imprint of his teeth. Unable to take more of his teasing, for science or not, you haul him back up to your mouth and kiss him fiercely, your tongue finding its way into his mouth this time and bullying his downright fiendish one into submission as you use every little trick you've learned about his body so far against the skeleton.

Your fingers graze over his ribs and rake down his spine, making him gasp and sag against you, allowing you to roll you both over so you're on top now, one knee between his legs, your hips grinding mercilessly against his and the growing tension you feel developing in his pants. You don't let up, but drag down the collar of his shirt and attack his collarbone while his hands work their desperate way down to your hips to give him the leverage needed to roll his hips against you, jeans chafing mercilessly but neither of you quite daring to cross that line yet.

Sans outright moans when you run your tongue up the side of his cervical vertebrae and you smile triumphantly at his reaction. He turns his head to the side, allowing you better access, and you repeat the motion, then drop a kiss on each vertebra up to his chin whereupon he turns and catches your mouth with his once more.

The kiss is languid and coaxing now, and you're not insensible to the fact that he's fighting desperately not to cross a line tonight, no matter how much he, and you, want to in that moment. It's a struggle, but you eventually surrender to his silent pleas until you're both sprawled across your sofa in a tangle of limbs, breathless but pleased, if not quite satisfied.

Your head is tucked under his chin, and as you both lay there wrapped around one another, his fingers tracing absent circles across your lower back, you swear you can hear the soft, otherworldly hum of his soul deep within his bones.

"orange juice," he says out of the blue after a minute of silence.

"What?" you ask, baffled and wondering if you hadn't misheard him. You lift your head from his chest and shoot him a quizzical look.

"for the mulled wine. you could substitute orange juice for the zest and peel if you didn't have an orange," Sans explains thoughtfully, eyes on the ceiling as he speaks, though he looks down at you when he's done, clearly waiting for your opinion.

You blink. "Oh," you say, then fight back a laugh. "Thought you were having stroke or something."

He rolls his eyes but grins as he wraps his arms around you once more and says, "yes, well, you know just how to stroke me, don't you sweetheart?"

You groan and drop your head onto his chest while he laughs and presses a kiss to the crown of your head. "Please, you're awful," you mutter unconvincingly into his shirt.

"awfully good at pleasing you, it seems," he retorts lightly.

"Turnabout's fair play," you shoot back as you lift your face to look at him again, using his earlier words against him.

Sans grins, then pulls you in, unresisting, for another kiss. It's slow and sweet, the type that makes you curl your toes and want to purr, and you close your eyes without even realizing it. You sigh against his lips when he breaks again and you can feel him smile.

"hey," he says to get your attention, and your eyes flutter open to meet his gaze. You're still nose-to-nose with him, so you pull back a bit to look at him without going cross-eyed. He's trying hard to look casual, but with your body pressed so firmly against his, you can feel the way he's tensing up in preparation for asking something awkward. You lift a brow at him, and an amused breath rushes out of him. "do you… i mean, would you like to-" he grimaces and looks pained at his own stumbling efforts to speak. "god, there is no non idiotic way to ask this fucking question," he grouses to himself, a surge of blue coloring his cheekbones.

"I find actually asking the question helps," you muse and he shoots you a flat look that only makes you grin cheekily.

Sans heaves another sigh and gives up. "you wanna be my girlfriend?"

Your eyes widen briefly, not quite surprised (because honestly what other stupid sounding question does a boy ask a girl after making out on her sofa that doesn't involve sex somehow?), but still delighted he actually asked. A blush creeps across your cheeks but you're smiling as you nod a little shyly. It's a ridiculous sensation considering you're long out of high school, but that doesn't stop you from feeling a bit like a schoolgirl when Sans gives you a relieved smile in turn.

You lean in and kiss him again, and this time he's the one that sighs against your lips as you smile and press a second kiss to the corner of his mouth. "It does sound a bit juvenile, doesn't it?" you admit when you pull away, amused.

He nods and absently brushes some hair back from your face with one hand. Something humorous seems to occur to him though, as he fights down a laugh and says, "pap would call you my 'datemate'"

"Your what?" you ask with an incredulous laugh of your own.

"'datemate'," he repeats. "He has this… dating manual," Sans explains with a vague wave of his hand.

"Oh lord," you muse. "Though, I mean, it does kinda have a ring to it, don't you think?"

"i know we've only been together for about two minutes, but i will break up with you."

You throw your head back and laugh.

AN: Thanks for reading! We finally got a real date, a kiss, AND a relationship all in one go! Takes me awhile to get there, but boy did we! XD Remember to leave a review if you enjoyed, and let me know what your favorite part was!