A.N: Hey guys!

So, yesterday was my birthday! (if people care about that kind of thing) So as a gift from me to you, here's the next chapter a little bit early! And I swear it's pretty much all fluff compared to previous chapters.

Please enjoy!

Chapter 20

Validation

Several times throughout the night, Corbel would wake up with a strange feeling. His body was heavy and his mind was clouded. It was difficult to move and difficult to focus on anything. But in the back of his mind, there were thoughts. The dregs of a pleasant dream, perhaps? It must have been a dream . . .

Ugh, what time was it . . . ? Still early. Too early to get up.

He rolled over in bed and brought his sheet more tightly around himself. Maybe he could still go back to sleep for a while longer and catch the rest of that dream . . . If he thought about it enough, maybe he could convince himself to continue where it left off.

It was as he stared blankly through the darkness of his room that he noticed it, folded up and resting in the seat of his desk chair.

Sans' jacket . . . ?

No, one of his . . . that happened to look like Sans' jacket. He scoffed at himself. Just because it was a hoodie, didn't mean it belonged to Sans . . .

But still . . . strange that he would leave it there . . . with nothing else around it. And even in the dark, he could see that it looked blue . . . he didn't own any blue hoodies . . .

With a low groan, Corbel reached out toward his desk and waved his arm . . . Huh? He usually had his chair close by. It was his support in the morning . . . Why would he move it so far away? Even if he were to reach out as far as he could, he wouldn't be able to get to it.

His groan deepening, he shifted in bed to inspect the curious article. He had to actually stand and make his way across the room in order to finally reach the chair. It was a slow process and his legs weren't quite willing to work with him at the moment, but he eventually made it and took the hoodie in his hand.

The fabric was not very thick. It was well- loved and old. And for some reason, even though it had been lying there for a while, Corbel felt warm when he held it. He recognized the feeling immediately.

"Sans . . ."

A smile spread across his face before he knew what was happening and he clutched the jacket to his chest.

Wait . . . what? Why was Sans' jacket here? Why did he have it again . . . ?

As soon as he asked himself that question, a blurred image ebbed at the edges of his memory.

Sans was grinning as he stood at the door to the apartment. He wasn't wearing his jacket but he waved at him all the same.

"I'll be back for my jacket so take care of it, got it? See you tomorrow, Daydreamer."

Corbel's cheeks went warm . . . Daydreamer. Well, it certainly felt like that was the case.

Other images began to parade through his mind. Sans seated nervously on the couch out front, gripping the fabric over his knees. He could feel the tremor in his hand when he reached out to take his. The smile he wore when he turned to look at him.

He remembered the electric shock that coursed through him when he heard Sans say what he said.

"I love you, Corbel."

The pulsing Soul inside his chest seized for a split second and it felt for a moment like it wouldn't start up again.

"If you still want to . . . Maybe we could . . ."

Corbel touched his mouth with his fingers. He'd kissed Sans in that moment without even thinking. It felt as if something had taken over his body when his mind vacated and drove him forward. Was it instinct? His own autopilot feature. It wouldn't have been the first time his autopilot feature stirred trouble for him, but . . .

. . . Sans had pressed back against him. Sans kissed him back . . . and he didn't pull away at all!

Corbel's grip on the jacket tightened. He wanted to feel that electric shock again. He wanted the excitement of feeling that fluttering in his chest. That euphoric lightheadedness that came with . . . whatever this was.

He wanted to see Sans again.

Assuming that having his jacket meant that there was a chance that his dream was actually a bit more than that . . . He knew that he would be seeing him again later that afternoon. After PT . . .

But what if . . .

What if he gave Sans a call before PT and they could hang out beforehand. Or, at the very least, they could solidify a time and place for their meetup later. (There was nothing in the "dream" that said exactly when they were planning to meet.)

Sans had a phone. He could give him a call . . .

Wait . . . What time was it again?

Early.

Too early to get up.

That's right. Maybe he should let Sans sleep for now.

He could confirm with Sans about that dream later.

For the moment, Corbel shuffled back to bed with the jacket in hand and fell gracelessly to the mattress.

Though PT went smoothly, Corbel found that he was distracted when he was given a new task and he had to be told twice before each exercise what he needed to do. Even during the exercise, he had to be reminded.

Gaster studied Corbel's movements and his mindframe, monitoring how he was responding. Something was definitely off about him today compared to his last check in. Though, physically, he seemed to be doing better and he wasn't nearly as reliant on his crutch, there seemed to be a delay in his mental state. He hoped it was only due to distraction and had nothing to do with the lingering after effects of the cave-in.

When Gaster asked his son if there was anything on his mind he'd like to discuss, Corbel turned his face away for a moment, pondering with his eyes locked to the corner for a long while as he stared at nothing. Right before Gaster was going to call for his attention again, Corbel shook his head, but didn't speak. He was exceedingly slow to respond and Gaster was beginning to worry just a bit.

When asked if he was feeling well, Corbel hesitated again before shaking his head slowly.

Immediately, Gaster was on alert. "What's wrong, Son? What happened?"

"I mean . . . I'm fine . . . I just . . . I don't know."

Gaster frowned with a bit of a pause, "Are you sure this isn't something you'd like to talk about?"

Again, Corbel hesitated, "Dad . . . Do you ever feel like . . . Maybe you're stuck in a place you shouldn't be? That no matter what you do, it just doesn't feel like you should be doing it? Like things happen and it just doesn't feel . . . real. Do . . . you ever not feel real . . . ?"

Still, Gaster frowned as he looked to his son. Did this have anything to do with his prosthetics? "You're going through a very major transition right now." He explained, "There is a lot to get used to. Of course it's going to take some time. But I'm sure with time and with patience, you will adjust and begin to feel perfectly fine."

Corbel hummed, "Yeah . . . but I don't think that's quite right. Maybe what I mean is overall. I know I still need to get used to . . . my new body. That's not the issue . . . I guess what I should have said is . . . maybe I feel real, but . . . nothing else does."

Gaster remained quiet, his frown deepening.

"I guess that's a no." Corbel sighed, "Then, how can I . . . I guess the best way is . . . Ever since the accident . . . I've been feeling . . . hazy . . . sluggish . . . confused . . . like I try to do things, but it's never the way I feel I would normally do them. I'm slow and uncoordinated . . . and when I'm done, it doesn't feel like I did anything. Like . . . maybe I dreamed the whole thing and I still need to actually do it . . . I'll look back at the thing and instead of a memory, it feels like a story I imagined. Last night was the worst."

"What happened last night?" Gaster asked.

That one question got the quickest reaction of the entire day. Corbel immediately drew in a sharp breath, his eyes going a bit wider. Within moments, his face began to flush.

Of course Gaster took mental note. What could have possibly happened to get this kind of immediate reaction out of him?

"Th-that's just it." Corbel responded, "I can't tell. It feels like . . . a memory within a dream where you follow along without question because everyone else is acting normally about it . . . but there's always that little voice in the back of your head that tells you, 'wait a minute, that doesn't make sense. You know that didn't really happen.' But you still accept it as truth . . . it's so weird to try to explain and I know I'm not making any sense."

Gaster set his clipboard on the counter a while ago and his eyes stayed glued to his son as he fought with himself to try to explain. As he did, words came to him. Maybe they were more like what Corbel was trying to say. Delirium . . . Detached . . . disassociated . . . an out-of-body experience.

"Well . . . I didn't sleep well last night . . . so maybe that's what it is . . . Maybe my own mind is blurring the line between the dream world and the real word because of fatigue."

Gaster hummed as he thought over everything Corbel told him.

"Still. This can't be ignored. As a scientist, I am indeed intrigued with what you're experiencing and feel it is definitely something that needs to be monitored and recorded so we can fully understand and explain it. But as your father, I have to say I am concerned. You say this has been happening since the incident?"

Corbel nodded.

"Your skull was nearly crushed in the debris. You were fortunate to walk away with only a single scar."

"I was fortunate to walk away at all." Corbel muttered.

"You really were. What I wonder is, maybe the damage had more lasting effects than we previously anticipated. Tell me. Have you been experiencing any additional symptoms?"

"You think I'm mentally unstable . . . ?"

"I'm covering all of the possibilities."

"I . . . I guess I'm . . . I am having some trouble concentrating . . . But mainly that's because of the headaches."

"You have been suffering headaches?" Gaster questioned, seemingly in response to the buzzword.

"Yeah," Corbel admitted with a sigh, "I guess they're kinda frequent. I thought maybe they'd go away on their own if I got enough sleep or something . . . Drank more water. I . . . honestly didn't think to attribute it to the accident . . ."

Gaster hummed in thought as he wrote everything down on his clipboard. His mind was working in overdrive trying to think of a possible diagnosis and a possible solution.

"And this has been affecting your concentration . . . Anything else?"

"I mean, it's been kinda difficult to focus when I'm reading . . . ? It's been taking longer to do my assignments . . . But again, I never thought to think of it as a side effect."

"I have noticed you taking a bit longer on your checklists when you come here. And come to think of it, you seemed to have been having trouble adjusting yourself to read it. You've been squinting."

Corbel halted for a moment.

"You think I need glasses!?" Corbel nearly accused, "Aaalll of that and you get glasses out of it!?"

"Again, I'm exploring the options. Glasses is a possibility. And, of course, we won't know for sure until we delve further into that possibility."

Corbel groaned. "An eye exam . . . ?"

"An eye exam." Gaster confirmed with a nod, "If it does turn out that you need glasses, I have a feeling it will alleviate several of your symptoms."

With a bit of a huff, Corbel reluctantly agreed.

"Alright then. Let's get this over with."

The exam confirmed Gaster's suspicions. After a few tests, it was evident that Corbel was having difficulty focusing out of his right eye where all of the damage had been. Thinking back on it, Gaster thought he should've expected something like this and got to work right away on something that would help Corbel cope.

Corbel, on the other hand, seemed a little upset about the discovery. On one hand, he was glad that they knew the cause of all of his discomfort. On the other, however, it was just one more thing that was wrong with him now. One more challenge to strap to his back. Not only that, but his vision was only ruined in one eye and he was dreading the possibility of walking around with a monocle. It sounded silly to think about, but he knew it was a possibility.

His father assured him that whatever the solution was, it would not involve monocles. That made Corbel feel a little bit better about things.

At the end of Physical Therapy, Gaster sent Corbel home with a promise to get his new glasses done by their next session. He also told Corbel to ditch his crutch as much as he could. He'd progressed to the point that he should be able to do without it. He did say, however, that even though he was becoming stronger, not to push himself too far. If he absolutely needed it, he could use the crutch or a light cane to walk. He would be sure to find something to his liking at the dump.

Corbel scoffed at the suggestion, joking that his father would have him looking like a 150- year-old by the time this was over. Gaster assured Corbel that 150 years was not that old. But he did leave the overall aesthetic choice to his son. He was only suggesting things that may help him live more comfortably. Corbel thanked his father before they ended their session.

On their way out, Gaster suggested Corbel stop by Waterfall, saying his mother would enjoy the company for dinner, but Corbel had to politely refuse. He already had plans for the evening. But he would definitely make it a point to come by soon. When asked about those plans, Corbel went quiet for a short moment.

"I have to confirm something. I have to prove that it's real. Part of that whole thing that we were talking about earlier."

"I assume that it has something to do with whatever it was that happened 'last night'? The thing you refuse to talk about?"

"Uuuhhhyeah." Corbel answered slowly, "I need to figure it out . . . but when I do, I'll . . . I'll let you know, okay?"

"And how do you plan to prove to yourself that it is real?" Gaster prodded, "This time tomorrow, when you're doubting the validity of your findings, how are you going to prove to yourself that what you experienced is real?"

Corbel paused, looking back to his father in confusion.

"What . . . ? I mean . . . I'll find a way, I guess. Physical proof . . . ?"

He thought about that for a moment, and his thoughts led him back to Sans' jacket. Wasn't that what the jacket was supposed to represent . . . As far as the dream was concerned anyway . . . And yet, here he was, still questioning it.

But then . . . What other way was there?

"Corbel, you're a scientist." Gaster reminded him, "I know it has been quite some time since you've been assigned at the lab, but I would hope that what you've learned there would translate to your everyday life as well."

". . . What?"

What did being a scientist or his time in the lab have to do with his situation? What was he talking about?

"As scientists, what is the one thing we're always doing? At every step of the experiment. Before, during, and after. Especially after."

Corbel's expression widened then.

"We document."

"We document." Gaster confirmed with a nod, "And if ever we are not sure of ourselves, if we need to confirm anything throughout the process, what do we do?"

"We refer to our notes."

"Our documentation of the experiment. This will be my last suggestion to you today. If ever and whenever you start to feel a lapse in reality or in your perception of reality, write it down. Document it. It will be your proof to yourself that what you saw and what you felt was, indeed, real. If ever you are unsure, I want you to look back to your notes and use them to help sort things out."

"So, your suggestion is to keep a diary . . . ?"

"Semantics. What you call it is up to you. But a daily journal may not be such a bad idea in a situation like this one. Don't you think?"

Corbel thought it over and eventually gave another quick nod.

"I mean, it can't hurt, right?"

Later that evening, Corbel sat on the couch in the front room with Sans' jacket in his hands. Per his father's suggestion, he'd invested in a composition notebook and he'd written down every aspect of the dream he could remember. His plan was to test things out with Sans, casually hint at things and gauge his reactions to those things. If he responded positively, Corbel would check it off of his list, and if he didn't, Corbel would cross it out.

. . . Though, how he was going to "casually" bring up a confession of love he had no idea . . .

So, Corbel sat with his hand gripping tightly at the jacket and his leg bouncing uncontrollably. He was expecting Sans to show up sometime within the next hour, and every minute that passed, he was feeling more and more nervous about the encounter.

What if he responded negatively to his experiment . . . What if he'd been worrying about this and driving himself crazy about this for no reason at all?

Well . . . It isn't like he wasn't used to it by now . . . After all, how many similar dreams had he had before now . . . ? He had always picked up and carried on before.

It wouldn't be anything new.

. . . But . . . But what if Sans reacted positively . . . !? What if . . . It was all true!?

The door opened without a knock. Someone with a key . . .

Corbel's roommate shuffled in, dragging a bag low at his side.

"Hey, Teri." Corbel greeted to the sleepy monster.

The newcomer's brows raised momentarily as he scanned the room.

"What? Your boyfriend isn't here tonight?"

"M-my . . . My boyfriend?"

"You two were all over each other last night . . . and that's his jacket, right? I just assumed . . . Hm. Was it just a fling then?"

"A f- . . . A FLING!?"

"Not the type, huh? Well, either way, you kept the room decent, so thanks for that . . . Anyway . . . G'night, Corbel."

Corbel stared after his roommate as he shuffled away, dragging his bag behind him as he went to steal an hour or two of sleep before he had to be up again.

So . . . That actually happened . . . ? And if Teri, an unbiased third party with no coaching or knowledge of the situation, could confirm it so effortlessly, then there HAD to be some truth to it.

The corner of Corbel's mouth pulled into a tiny smile.

It was real! That whole thing was real! And if that was real, then their conversation, the reason Sans left his jacket . . . He did it for him because . . . He wanted to prove himself.

And if all of that was true, then it meant that Sans was really . . .

Really his . . .

"Boyfriend." Corbel said aloud.

As he said it, something caught in his chest and that something began thundering harshly against his new ribs. It continued without relent and as strange as it felt, Corbel welcomed the thrill.

Man, it was beating so hard that he swore he could hear his Soul rattling around and knocking against his chest!

Wait . . . No . . . That was the door. Someone was knocking on the door. Someone without a key.

"Sans!"

Corbel sprang up immediately, rushing toward the door. He opened it quickly with a wide grin on his face.

He was met with a very laid-back looking Skeleton with his hands in his pockets as he shifted away from leaning on the wall of the little entryway.

"Hey, Sans." He greeted, nearly unable to contain himself.

"Hey, Corbel." Sans responded, his own smile growing, "Good evening."

Sans took a look around, glancing past Corbel and into the apartment. He noticed the blue jacket draped over the arm of the far couch and his smile became a smirk.

"So, hey . . ." He began as if preparing to ask a huge favor, "I think I might've forgotten something here last night when I left. Have you seen it?"

Right away, Corbel's focus shifted and he turned to look at the jacket as well.

"Yeah." He answered instinctively, before another thought came to mind. "I-I mean, I dunno. Would you like to maybe come inside and take a look?"

A puff of laughter escaped Sans then. He lowered his head and shook it slightly.

"Nice save." He acknowledged, changing his shaking head into a slight nod, "but don't worry about it. I think I may have found what I'm looking for right here."

Immediately confused, Corbel spun back around to face Sans.

. . . Only to be completely caught off guard as Sans stepped forward and took Corbel around the torso, pressing the two of them together. He leaned up then, and pressed his mouth to Corbel's in a sneaky kiss.

The whole thing went so quickly and so smoothly that Corbel didn't get a chance to even process what was going on before it just happened and he found himself in the middle of a kiss with Sans! His eyes widened and he drew in a sharp breath through his nose. That electric shock returned and shot through his entire body.

He was frozen in that shock for a moment more before he even had the thought to pull away. When he did, he could immediately feel his face becoming warm. His eyes were still wide and he seemed to have forgotten how to breathe.

Sans' smile widened again and became coy. He reached slightly upward to brush at Corbel's cheek with his thumb, careful not to irritate the scar under his eye.

"Ah, there it is." He hummed.

Corbel knew he was blushing like mad at the moment and he couldn't even think of a single thing to say in response. When he tried, he only stammered.

"I-I . . . but . . . y-you you just . . ."

Sans stood and waited as Corbel struggled to find words. All the while, he didn't turn his face away from Corbel's frantic expression or the furious blush that was threatening to take over his entire skull. He turned his eyes away as a small, embarrassed smile pulled at his features.

Cute.

Finally, gathering himself long enough to sigh and sort out his thoughts, Corbel jabbed a thumb behind him.

"D-didn't you . . . y-you came for . . ."

"Oh! You thought I meant the jacket!?" Sans chuckled.

Corbel nodded.

"No, I left the jacket on purpose. I didn't forget it."

Corbel turned his eyes up once again toward Sans, "Th-then . . . w-what . . . the-the thing you actually forgot was . . . ?"

"This right here." Sans answered, still thumbing at Corbel's cheek, "This face. That blush. I wanted to take it with me last night and forgot to pick it up. So I had to come back for it."

"I-I . . . b-but I . . . w-when you . . ."

Corbel was back to being a stuttering fool, unable to form a sentence and all the while, Sans could do little more than smile back at him as he fought through it.

"Last night," He finally interrupted, "You were the one who kissed me. You just did it because it was what you were feeling. A guy's gotta admire something like that. And then there's me . . . I let everything get to my head to the point that it completely slipped my mind to reciprocate. And all night after I got home . . . the only thing I thought about was how much I wanted to see you again, just like this. I never actually showed you what I was feeling like you did . . . tch, no wonder you didn't believe me. No wonder you doubted it so much."

"N-no . . . that's not it!" Corbel defended, "Well . . . I-I mean I still wasn't sure about it when I woke up this morning . . . and I-I was still convinced it was a dream until a few minutes ago . . . B-but-but it's not because of you, I swear! Turns out that I . . . w-well, I- um . . . l-let's go inside."

Hesitating slightly, Sans tilted his head. Hm? What was that about?

Lowering his hand from Corbel's face, Sans gave a nod and Corbel stepped aside to allow Sans to enter.

With the slightest hesitation, Corbel took Sans' hand in his fingers and led the way, scooping up the jacket, but otherwise bypassing the living room altogether. He led Sans through the hall and to his room.

Sans raised his brows for a moment.

"Gotta say, after you were so flustered about it yesterday, I didn't think we'd be at this stage yet." Sans joked.

Corbel's hand tightened for a split second and he hesitated mid-step as he thought about what this must've looked like to Sans.

"That's not . . . You know that's not what I . . ."

Sans chuckled a bit at the reaction, "So you have thought about it before . . ."

"Wh- what? I mean no! I-I mean, well yeah, but . . . Ugh stop it and get in here!"

Sans' laugh became a bit more full as he obliged, giving Corbel's hand a little playful squeeze in turn, just to let him know that he was only messing with him a little.

Once they were inside and Corbel shut the door behind him, he gestured for Sans to take a seat on the bed while he took his at the desk. Again, Sans obliged with no hesitation.

When Sans was seated, he took a quick look around Corbel's room. He'd been in here a few times before, but somehow, this time it just felt different than it had in the past.

It was always pretty well kept. His bed was always made and it was rare that he had anything on the floor. His books might have been strewn over his desk with a paper or two out of place, but that was usually it.

That night, it was a bit different. His bed was made and all, but the rest of the room seemed more disorganized than he expected of Corbel. There was a small pile of clothes littering the corner that hadn't quite made it into his hamper and shirt arms and pant legs hanging out of various drawers of his dresser. His shoes had been kicked off near his bed instead of placed inside of his closet like they usually were.

There were several open books and notebooks scattered over his desk and piles of loose papers scattered over those . . . Was that a graduation application!? Was he already finished with his Master's program!?

Corbel sighed, his hands clasped between his legs as his elbows rested on his knees.

Taking it all in, Sans' smile fell slightly.

"Hey, Corbel?" He tried cautiously, "Something's bothering you, isn't it? What's wrong, bud?"

Corbel snapped up at that moment, shaking his head in answer and almost instantly regretting the motion. He grimaced, squinting through the discomfort back toward Sans.

"C'mon, don't lie to me. What happened? Was it today's PT? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Corbel answered quietly, "Just another headache, that's all."

Sans frowned now, "Just 'another' headache?" He pushed, "How often have they been happening?"

At first Corbel groaned. He didn't want the night to become a repeat of the day. He just wanted to talk normally with Sans. Hang out and maybe discuss their . . . their relationship . . . And what to do next.

But when he locked eyes with Sans for a few moments, he was able to see the genuine concern and worry. He just wanted to make sure he was okay.

"It's been happening almost every day since I woke up after the accident. Sometimes, it's several times a day. It's usually worse at night."

"Since the cave-in . . ." Sans muttered, as his mode completely switched, "I know you probably don't want to talk about it more right now, but . . . Does that have anything to do with what happened last night . . . ?"

Corbel tilted his head this time. Did Sans actually . . . Already understand?

"Sometimes I get migraines too. They really suck. And the symptoms can vary. Sometimes, it's just a really bad headache. Other times, people can feel nauseated . . . And sometimes, people can feel hazy or disconcerted, like maybe they're not quite in control of their bodies. Or that they're in a trance or . . . a dream."

Corbel's eyes widened slightly. Again, bad idea. A shooting pain shot through the right side of his head.

"How did you . . . ?"

"Ah, god . . . damnit." Sans shook his head. Just another thing he'd messed up so early in this thing. "I should've known the second time you said you felt like you were dreaming. You were telling me you were suffering and I just used it to pester you."

"No, Sans. That's not how it was at all . . . At least, that's not how I took it! I admit that I did have trouble putting the pieces together. But what you just said . . . It's exactly what's been happening. You actually understand what's happening to me. And that alone is a huge help, so thanks."

"Did . . . Did you tell your dad what was going on? Didn't he tell you all of this already?"

"Well, I did tell him, but I . . . Didn't explain it well. I was kinda out of it all day today, actually. And he said that he thought it was a lasting effect of the accident . . . Since my skull had been badly damaged and can't fully heal. And we can't use a graft . . . It could cause lasting damage to my eye . . . Which is why I'm stuck with this scar. But anyway . . . Now I know what it is and I can tell him about it!" Corbel smiled and nodded his thanks to Sans. Again, that pain shot through and he fought to keep from frowning.

Sans sighed, moving over on the bed. "You should lie down, Corbel." He suggested, "It'll help relieve some pressure and help you feel better."

"No, it's okay. I'm fine. And besides, it's just-"

"Corbel, come here." Sans instructed, gesturing to the spot on the bed beside him. He also didn't make to stand and switch spots or anything. So, he would be . . . Joining him . . . ?

It wasn't that far at all between them, but still, Sans held out his hand for Corbel to take and after a few moments, Corbel slowly accepted. Following Sans' lead and taking the spot beside him.

Together, they shifted so they were leaning back against the wall, sitting across the width of the bed.

Corbel had to admit that just leaning back against the wall instead of forward in his knees felt a lot better.

"There we go." Sans hummed quietly as he felt Corbel relax beside him. It seemed he also knew how sound-sensitive these headaches could be. He definitely had some experience with them. "How are you feeling?"

"A little better." Corbel answered honestly.

"Was it like this all day? Even through PT?"

"Well, PT was a little different. It was more the disconnected feeling like last night. I was feeling sluggish and foggy. I feel bad for Dad, actually. I don't know how many times he needed to repeat himself before I finally got the damned point . . ."

Corbel sighed and let his eyes close. "Yeah, this is a lot better."

"Looks like you're about ready to pass out." Sans observed, "Maybe I should . . . yeah. I'm gonna let you sleep, okay? I'll see you tomorrow."

"No . . ." Corbel groaned, reaching out blindly to grab at Sans' hand, "Not again. Please stay?" He asked.

Sans hesitated for a moment, before switching the hand Corbel took and using his other hand instead. With his now-free arm, he reached over and draped it around Corbel's shoulders. He pulled the younger Skeleton closer and used his arm-draping hand to tilt Corbel's head so he could lay on his shoulder. He then stroked softly at his arm and made soothing circles into the other hand.

Again, Corbel sighed as he settled in, "Thank you, Sans."

In response, Sans gave a short hum, "Of course."

". . . Will you be here in the morning? Will you stay?"

"Do you want me to stay 'til then?"

"Of course I do! I just asked you to! There's still a whole lot I wanna talk about with you . . . I'm just . . . not up to it right now is all."

His voice was fading already and right away Sans knew that he wouldn't last much longer. He really was worn out after everything that happened, wasn't he? He really did need his rest.

"Then I'll stay. We'll pick this up again in the morning. Maybe over breakfast?"

Corbel hummed again, "That sounds good."

Not even ten minutes later, Corbel had fallen asleep, the deep and even breathing tipping Sans off as much as the loosened grip of his hand.

"G'night, Daydreamer." He whispered to him.

He couldn't help the smile from spreading as he leaned to rest his head atop Corbel's. If he was being honest with himself, he still couldn't quite believe this was really happening either, but whether he believed it or not, this is where they were and he . . . was happy with where they were. So, he let his eyes drift closed as well, still stroking at Corbel's arm as he slept, and he allowed himself to enjoy their first night together.

Hours later, the two still slept, lying completely and comfortably on the bed in each other's arms. Corbel was curled in and lying on Sans' chest. The soft thumping sound in his ribs soothed him and made it that much easier to sleep. It was a comforting stable sound and for the few seconds he was awake, Corbel wondered how he'd ever been able to sleep without it before.