"Look at the state of the house! We leave for, what, two months, and come back to a pig sty!? We can't fucking trust you with anything!"

"And look at yourself! You've been pigging on food, haven't you? You've probably been spending all our hard-earned money on food so you can stuff your greedy face behind our backs."

"I wish I'd never given birth to you."

"Should've used birth control."

"I wish you'd just di-"

...

You woke up, tangled in the bedsheets, gasping and heaving, a sick feeling in your stomach, arms and legs almost numb. It took a few moments for your eyes to adjust to the darkness and see the ceiling, to drive the echoes of your parent's voices out of your head, to tell yourself that this is reality, it was a dream, they aren't home yet .

...

You couldn't make their voices stop.

You knew you were awake, and that you were fine, but you were sticky with sweat and it was dark and damp and cold and you felt so sick and they were whirling in your mind, always there, always there...

You let out a little choked sob, reflexively rolling over and grabbing your phone off the bedside table to check if Sans had sent you anything, further tangling yourself in the bed sheets, but...

... Nothing...? Why hadn't he...?

Oh yeah. He... was downstairs. On your couch.

That... you'd let him sleep on.

...

You shook your head as a thought passed through, immediately banishing it. No, you weren't going to go downstairs and see him, he wasn't someone you would go to for comfort, ever . The only reason you even checked your phone was out of reflex, you weren't searching for comfort from him. No...

You could deal with this yourself.

You put the phone back on the bedside table and started unwrapping yourself from the sheets, your arms cold and shivery. You weren't even sure how you'd managed to get the duvet into such a crazy position- you must've been throwing yourself back and forth like a rocking chair.

... You still felt sick.

Swallowing the rising bile in your throat and sitting up, you tried to focus on calming your heartbeat, closing your eyes and breathing slowly. It was pounding fearfully against your ribcage, as if it wanted to break out and run from this goddamn house.

You didn't blame it.

... Eventually, it slowed, and you wiped your forehead on your arm, still feeling sick. And...

... Lonely.

You knew Sans was downstairs, but you still felt alone, in this dark room, empty and silent but for your breathing, with the sweaty bed sheets and slightly damp mattress (ew).

You'd never get back to sleep like this.

...

M... maybe just...

You could... swallow your pride? For one night? He was your stalker, after all, he'd probably seen you much worse than this. He wouldn't judge... And right now, even if it was him , the prospect of being close to anyone made you feel just that bit better.

...

Just one night.

You sniffled, and got out of bed, crossing the floor as silently as you could. It was so cold... and quiet... The hairs on the back of your neck were prickling.

... You went down the stairs, into the dark, previously calmed heart pounding again. When a stair creaked, you almost turned back... but you screwed your eyes shut and kept going. Something in your chest was telling you that being with Sans was the best choice you could make right now.

Besides. One night. And he was better than no one.

...

You pushed open the living room door, slowly, feeling so exposed and watched in the dark.

He was asleep, breathing softly. He was lying on his side, facing the sofa, his back to the inky room, so still and quiet. But even now... just hearing someone else's breathing... you felt that bit less sick and unsafe.

... You closed the door behind you and headed over to the couch, standing by it, looking down at him, sleeping so soundly, eyesockets shut and chest rising and falling under the blanket.

...

What now?

You swallowed, lower lip trembling and eyes welling with tears. You were too embarrassed to wake him up, to scared to go back up the stairs in the dark and into your room, too cold to keep standing here, and sick to your stomach, plagued with your parent's voices nagging in the back of your mind.

Here you were, in your own living room at 2 or 3am, frightened and about to sleep next to your stalker so you wouldn't feel quite so alone.

... Would he be mad if you woke him up?

You swallowed again and sucked up the last remnants of your pride, just... lying down next to him, his back to you. There was very little space and you were nearly hanging off, but...

Immediately, it was so much better than being alone.

And that thought made you start to sob.

I mean... that, and how cold and exhausted and nauseous you were.

"... hm..."

... He stirred.

You tried to hold your breath and silence your sobs but it was about as effective as trying to baptise a cat. It just made it worse, little wet sounds escaping your throat, shoulders bouncing and chest fluttering.

"... y... y/n!?"

Don't look at me.

I'm pathetic.

"... are you crying?"

Don't hate me.

You're the only one who cares.

You sobbed.

You're the only one who lov-

Suddenly, you were bundled into his arms, and being rolled over, and then stopped. He was cuddling you, your back to the sofa, pressed against his chest and your face under his chin, covered on all sides. He shuffled, a little, pulling the blanket more over you, his body heat instantly chasing away the cold that had plagued your skin, and you momentarily wondered how a skeleton could be so warm.

... Your sobbing became more intense as you instinctively cuddled closer to the warmth. Now that you were here, in his arms, protected, the darkness wasn't quite so scary and silent.

...

Just one night.

"shh..." He wiped a tear from your face with a phalange, so gentle, eyelights soft and concerned. "what happened?"

"N-n... nightmare...!" You managed to squeeze out, between the heaving breaths, gripping onto him with white knuckles.

He gently guided your head against his chest, petting your hair soothingly, completely snuggling you.

"... it's okay now," he cooed, his fingers running through your hair. It felt so nice . "i'm here."

... He's here.

Sans is here.

...

If the floodgates weren't open before, they were now.

You let out a little harrowing, cracked sound, and he cuddled you closer, letting you cry. You'd never heard someone say that to you before. Never...

You were always alone. Had to fend for yourself and hope for the best as you would try and comfort yourself through panic attacks, and depression episodes... it was so hard, and it never really worked...

Right now, you didn't even care that it was your stalker who'd said it. You didn't care that the guy who'd made you feel so unsafe and alone was now making you feel safer than you'd ever felt before. Your life was fucked up anyway.

Someone had said it.

... You cried yourself into exhaustion, getting sleepier, the sick feeling in your stomach gone, warm again, eyes heavy from the previous river of tears. You were so sleepy that you didn't notice Sans bundling you up and walking, the rocking sensation lulling you. In fact, you only noticed you'd moved when Sans put you down on your bed and clambered in next to you, pulling the larger duvet over both of you and snuggling you close, rubbing a hand up and down your back soothingly.

"... I-I'm sorry," you choked out, voice hoarse and scratchy, making it almost painful to speak.

"..." His huge hand stopped rubbing your back for a second. "... what? what for?"

"W-waking you up."

"it's fine," he said, immediately, continuing the back rubs. "i get to sleep with you."

If it had been any other moment other than this one, you would have found that to be extremely creepy and it would have made your skin crawl... but now...

It made you feel so much better. Somebody wanted you around. They cared about you, and it wasn't artificial for their own benefit. It was genuine love and it felt good.

You sniffled, your tears starting to slow, and your heaves stopping all together.

As you calmed down, you started to realize how odd this situation was. You had been hysterical, so you knew why you went to him, but was that really a wise decision? He was your stalker. He had always been watching you, and that is so illegal and morally wrong but...

Was he even a bad person? He never hurt you... never threatened you. Hell, he even stopped himself a few times when you said he was getting too creepy over text. He clearly cared for you, on some type of level. He just wasn't all there, mentally. Morals didn't matter to him.

...You fell asleep.

...

...

Holy shit.

You... were in his arms.

... His breathing was so slow. His eyelights were just... totally trained in on your sleeping face. In a trance... eye sockets lidded, eyelights soft and fuzzy, entranced... you were so close ... mere... inches from his face. There was nothing he could do but stare, his chest so light , so... he couldn't even put the words to describe it.

He felt like he was going to just... melt. Or float away. Whichever came first.

He couldn't even imagine a more perfect moment. You were here... cuddled up to him, so soft and small... And yes, he was upset you'd been upset. When he'd seen your crying face his Soul had started to panic, tugging, fighting- and it'd physically hurt when he heard that little sob, and saw the way you covered your face with your hands subconsciously when he noticed you there, as if trying to hide yourself, or stop him from looking at you.

You were ashamed by your own sadness. By your own fear, and vulnerability.

He wanted to whoever had made you feel like that.

He'd find them, and he'd kill them, slowly, painfully, excruciatingly ... He'd make sure they lived . He'd make sure they lived a long, loonng time ...

... But his anger slipped away as he stared at your angelic, sleeping face. You'd come to him for comfort... You'd come to him , without him even needing to push you to open yourself up to him. You'd left your own bed and gone downstairs to sleep next to him.

It filled him with satisfaction.

He snuggled a little closer, hooking his leg over yours, enveloping you, relishing in the feeling of your body against his for the second time. The tip of his nasal bone was touching your nose, and every breath you took, he could feel on his face, warm... and sweet. He knew he really should have his eye sockets closed, but... he just... couldn't bring himself to stop staring. You didn't look angry or scared or weary or upset... just... you. Completely content as you slept, safe away from reality in your mind.

...

Maybe one day, he could make you feel safe and happy enough to look like this all the time?

Maybe, you wouldn't look quite so weary and upset and alone, if you were with him...?

... He sighed, happily.

... He really should close his eye sockets now...

...

Just a few more hours of staring.

...

...

Ugh...

Noises...

... Fuck off noises...

Sans grumbled to himself, snuggling around you tighter and nuzzling his face into your hair, still in that luxurious sleepy haze. You were warm, the bed was warm, and a tiny sliver of sun was peeking through the curtain and casting over his skull.

You made a sound, too, in the back of your throat, stretching your toes a little and pushing your face into his shirt.

... More noises. Sounded like voic-

Suddenly, you shrieked, sitting up ridiculously fast and shoving him in panic. He barely had time to register or shout in alarm before he was toppling off the bed, falling-

...

"O-oops." You said, quietly, peering down at him from the edge of the bed.

Sans was lying on the floor, his back and skull on the ground- but one foot still on the bed, and another in the air.

...

He blinked, twice.

"A-are you okay!?" You asked, voice so full of concern, leaning over the edge of the bed and looking down at him. There was something about seeing you above him that immediately set his mind whirring (and magic racing), so he just responded with a light chuckle to assure you. You relaxed, concern falling into a relieved smile, with knowing he was alright.

...fuck.

"why'd you shove me off?" He asked, not getting up, raising a brow bone flirtingly.

You rolled your eyes at his display, clearly not falling into it. "I-"

...

You blinked, and tried your best to listen downstairs, trying to tune in and make sure you weren't just being paranoid from your dream last night, and hearing things, but...

Noises. Footsteps. Voices.

...

You paled like a mood coming out from behind a cloud.

"... Oh shit ."

Sans's face morphed into one of confused concern at your sudden fear, and he sat up a little as you skittered off the bed toward your closet, throwing it open and searching through like you were looking for the will to live.

"... what?"

He stood up, heading over to you, panic starting to race through his system. What shit? What!? Why were you panicked? Who was making you panic!?

he would kill them.

"Th-they're home!" You whisper-shouted, r... removing your clothes , nipping any response he could've mustered right in the bud. You just started tearing your pjs off and he had to force himself to look away and train his eyelights on a section of floor so you wouldn't hate him for goggling at your breasts, (despite the fact that he'd seen them already... soft, a-and round...)

You chucked your pyjama top at him, and he caught it, feeling kinda like a butler in a Hollywood movie. Some fabric flopped over his skull- y- your pyjama pants!? His whole body stiffened.

"...what? who's home?" He asked, brain only just catching up, pyjama pants still on his head.

"My parents!" You said, muffled, and he removed the pants from his skull just in time to catch a glimpse of your stomach skin as you pulled a shirt over your head. It was far fancier than anything he'd ever seen you wear, or try to wear...

"... oh. fuck."

You turned to him, panicked, and he could tell from just standing there that your heart was beating a mile a minute, your poor little body shaking from pure terror.

... You swallowed, eyes desperate. "You can't be here."

"i'm not leaving you." He said, immediately, holding his ground. There was no chance in hell that he would ever leave you to fend for yourself, ever again

...But you looked betrayed.

"Sans, I'm gonna get in so much trouble!"

... He took in your panicked visage. Your pleading eyes, messy hair, shirt ruffled from spending so much time unworn in your closet, skin pale, chest rising and falling rapidly... How your hands gripped the fabric of your shirt with white knuckles, and your entire body shook with fear...

...They were bad people.

...

"what do they do to you?"

... You blinked. "W-what?"

He tried to keep his tone soft, avoiding any signs of confrontation, knowing how much you hated it, eyelights glancing down to your feet, then back to your beautiful, fear-filled face, again.

"they clearly aren't nice to you."

abusive.

... You took a breath, your back straightening and eyelids fluttering shut for a moment, an attempt to calm yourself and remove anxiety, at least a little bit.

"... You need to go home." You said, tone small, and shaky, an adorable attempt at sounding confident and demanding, that left him softening.

He shook his head, smiling to himself, despite trying not to, trying to avoid offending you. "i'll hide in the closet, but i'm not leaving."

"..." You scowled, storming past him, and out the bedroom door.

...

He looked longingly at the warm bed, duvet ruffled, the imprint of your bodies still pressed onto it. He just wanted to grab you close and force you back into the bed with him, where it was snuggly and safe...

...

He got in the closet, and waited.

...

As much as you tried to tune out your parents, you could never quite manage it 100%.

You hadn't thought they'd come home today. You had hoped for a few more days. Or weeks... Why did it have to be today, of all days? When Sans was here!? DId the universe really hate you that much, that it had to be that specific date! If they saw him they'd never stop. They'd be so furious, and they would never stop yelling! Lecturing you, screaming, taking away your privileges, or worse....

You bit your lip as your dad yelled in your face, mom in the other room, checking out the house. You weren't even sure what he was yelling about, most likely something about the house not being perfect . Regardless, all you knew was that he was angry, really angry, and that if you spoke up at all as he let loose, well... things would end up far more than just verbal.

It's easier to stand there and take it, let him have his fun, and then leave as fast as you can. That way the scars are only mental, and you knew how to hide those.

"-How even dare you!? We work so hard to keep this family together and all you ever do is-"

Just stay calm. You kept your eyes on the floor. Don't move, don't speak.

"-If I had half the mind I used to I'd just kick you out right now-"

Just stay silent.

You swallowed, tearing up, and shutting your eyes. Just wait for him to shut up... Shut up...

"-Maybe if we'd used contraception we wouldn't-"

Shut up shut up shut up shut up-

Before you had the chance to break down into tears, Sans appeared in front of you. Literally out of thin air, his body forming a physical blockade between you and your father, acting almost as a shield. His huge back was to you, his height overshadowing even that of your dad's, who was actually a pretty tall guy, standing at 5'11, almost 6 foot even.

... W... what!?

You specifically asked him not to come downstairs! Your stomach dropped to the floor as your dad took a second to pull himself together, stumbling back, mouth falling open, clearly in shock for a moment, before it was replaced with rage and annoyance. Your parents were going to be pissed ... Why would he do that!?

You were going to be in so much trouble.

You knew you were supposed to be mad at him, but... you couldn't deny that you felt so much better with him here, protecting you. You felt safe. Something you never expected to feel around Sans.

"W-who the fuck is this?!" Dad shouted, finally forcing words out, his whole face going red as he stood up straight and tried to look Sans dead in the eye sockets. "Why are you in my ho-"

"don't talk to her like that."