#my sparkly rock collection is the envy of pretty much NO ONE who see it

[wlfgrrl]

[*actual pic of me upon spotting a ‘sparkly’]

[thewritingstar]

Like Fallen Snow

ahhh im super excited because I was @empress-of-mischief secret Santa for the Powerpuff secret Santa! I hope that this fic fills you will joy my dear. I rarely write for the blues and wanted to give it my best. I hope you had a wonderful xmas too. 

Pairing: Boomubbles

Fandom: PPG

---

Christmas was an exciting time of the year. Even Boomer who would rather be alone in his room blasting rock music in his headphones could be found sitting in the living room with his brothers early in the morning. It would start with them racing out of their bedrooms at an ungodly hour and putting on a pot of coffee for their monkey of a father before summoning their demon dad for gifts.

Having super villains for dads had some perks like giant lasers, rocket ships and enough weapons to destroy entire cities as if they forgot that the boys themselves were better than any military grade weapon. So when it came time to open gifts, even Boomer could give enough to smile as he unwrapped a taser gun that he automatically shot at Butch and blue fuzzy socks that matched the red and green ones.

Making sure the superpowered boys were happy on the holiday was something that Mojo and Him had decided was the best, not to keep them entertained but also to keep the running feud of who the best father was. Even though Boomer was happy to accept anything wrapped up with a bow, he had always felt something missing. He had to give Him and Mojo credit because as they got older, the gifts actually became personal.

They were now in their junior year of high school. The boys ‘bad-boy’ vibe wasn’t really cutting it with them and giant machinery wasn’t going to be the hot ticket for the year. Instead Brick ended up with a ton of books and gourment coffee, Butch calling him a big ass nerd of course, which was to prove his point that he was smarter than all of them and may or may not have been to either aggravate or impress a certain puff. For Butch his collection of vinyl recorders, skateboard parts and sport equipment was enough to keep him satisfied and have enough to spark envy with Buttercup. Boomer appreciated the brand new wall of guitars that he had been begging for, drums and a flute that he didn’t remember knowing how to play but hey, how hard could it be?

“Boomer, my dear boy, you keep looking at your phone. Is there somewhere else you’d rather be?” Him asked as he narrowed his eyes in a way that made Boomer snap his phone off.

Embarrassment crawled through him as all eyes were on him and even Mojo who was in the kitchen making pancakes but more or less listening in.

“Oh um, it was just I had a present for a couple friends and was wondering if I could give it to them before it gets dark.” Boomer responded.

“It's eight in the morning, dumbass. It's not close to being dark yet.” Butch said as he threw a football at the blondes head and let out a scream when the rubber turned to dust from the blue laser beams.

“You can say Bubbles.” Brick snorted and Boomer shot him a glare. That was a secret!

“Oh? She is quite the cutie.” Him smirked and Butch barked out a laugh as he smacked Boomers side with a wag of the eyebrows.

“Forget it, you all are weird. I’ll see you for breakfast, I’ll be quick.” Boomer huffed and went up to his room to change before flying out the window.

“Tell your little girlfriend hi for us!” He heard Butch shout and he knew damn well the whole neighbor hood could probably hear him.

“Not my girlfriend.” He mumbled to himself as he found his way to the park.

--

Since the beginning of his life it had always been the ruffs vs the puffs. Destined by his fathers orders and demands, Boomer always followed in that direction no matter what. He didn’t waver from the line drawn in the sand. Even though his brothers began to tip toe around it when they got older, stupid hormones, and yet he never strayed.

He could maybe understand their reasoning. It would make sense to be drawn to the enemy in a way he rarely understood, but still his blood flowed with destruction and determination to rule the world and some girl with pigtails wasn’t going to change that. Or so he thought.

He would consider himself an introvert to his counterpart��s over the top bubbly personality, her name truly suited her. Unlike their siblings, they seemed to rival the most in the sharing of traits.

And yet they had become friends first. It was a bonding experience over milkshakes and a painstaking talk about how they don’t live up to their siblings' powers, how they felt like they were the weak ones. He thought about how Brick and Butch had more muscle power but to hear Bubbles have her own doubts made his stomach turn and for some reason, their friendship bloomed.

Boomer could say that she was his best friend. Not too many people had gained the title of being his friend compared to her, who had most of the school fawning over her charm even if she didn’t notice. But that's what he liked about her. She was like him and while he was confined to her and shared his fears, she could do the same because at the end of the day, they were counterparts. One half of the same coin that would understand the other without any words.

So maybe that's why he was extremely nervous right now. They had been besties, as she called it, for a while and even though gift giving wasn’t out of the ordinary, he wondered what it would be like to be more.

Tell your little girlfriend hi for us!

Much more.

His thoughts were interrupted when the blue puff landed at the foot of the gazebo and sat on the bench next to him.

“Hey Boomie.” She smiled brightly and at first the nickname bothered him but now it was stuck like honey. It was weird when she didn’t say it.

“Hey Bubs.” He returned the smile. “How was your morning?”

“The usual. Blossom with her books and magazines, Buttercup and her weights and well I now have a new spring wardrobe. How about you?”

“Exactly that but I got a new guitar to tune.”

“Oooo you’ll have to play for me sometime.” She gushed and he felt the heat rise to his cheeks. It was the cold's fault, not the pretty blonde, he swears! “Now it's time for the present!” She clapped and put a tin that smelled that vanilla and cinnamon on his lap.

He already knew what they were as he had been bugging her to make her signature holiday cookies for months. Worth the wait.

“So I made you all some cookies, without my sister's help of course and then this is for you.” She handed him a box. The box was black with a navy blue bow. It was so perfect that it was almost comical. Opening the box, he removed the sparkly blue tissue paper.

“Oh wow, guitar picks.” He smiled as he took one out. It was wooden and had a small B with a heart engraved on it. “It's almost like you knew.”

“I had a feeling. You had been talking non stop about wanting one and whether I’d admit it or not, Him makes sure his dear baby boy gets a good present.” She giggled as she poked his cheek.

He rubbed his thumb over it, examining it and thinking about how nice it's going to feel while strumming. “These are really nice quality.”

“I made one from each adventure we went on. That’s made from a pine tree from our first camping trip with our friends. And this one is from the beach last summer.” She held up a slightly white one and at a closer look he realized that it was probably made from sea glass.

“You made these?” He asked in disbelief. “Is this made of bamboo?” He gasped. “When we raced to China?”

“Yep! I know it’s kinda lame but those places meant a lot for us, as friends.” She stumbled over the last part.

“I don’t think it’s lame at all. Pretty cool.” And he meant it. It was probably the most thoughtful gift he had ever received because it took him back to those happy days they had spent together.

“Cooler than a rocket?” She giggled.

“Even cooler than a rocket. Thank you.” He said and fished out her present from his pocket. “Mines not homemade but, ya know.” He scratched the back of his neck and handed her the small poorly wrapped box. “Don’t even comment on the wrapping.”

She held in a laugh. “I’m not.” Liar.

Carefully she tore off the paper and opened the box. “Boomer.”

“I hope it's the right one.”

She stared at the silver chain that had a silver pendant of the moon. When they walked through the mall, it had caught her eye and she spent the next hour talking about astrology and the phases of the moon. The minute that she went into another store, he ran back to purchase it. In the middle of August mind you.

“It's beautiful.” He could hear the sincerity in her voice as she turned her back to him and he helped her with the clasp. “Thank you, I love it so much.”

They sat in a comfortable silence for a couple minutes, taking a few bites of the cookies. The peaceful morning in the park with no one around was perfect, he wasn’t a fan of crowds and maybe that's why she chose this spot because she knew they would be the only ones here.

“Oh look, it's snowing.” Bubbles gasped as she held out her hand to catch the small flakes coming in. “Isn’t it beautiful?” She asked and when he said yes, his eyes hadn’t come off of her.

She stood and walked a few feet out to twirl in the new snow and he shoved his hands in his pocket to keep them warm as he watched her with a smile. If she would have asked him to join her a couple years ago, he would have probably said no and told her to shove off, and now, he would have gone anywhere if she just asked.

Staring at her made him realize that he wanted something more with her. There had been a few occasions where the air around them shifted and for a single second, it was like she thought the same thing, but they would get interrupted and that moment would die and he would sit there and remember that he is her best friend, nothing more, nothing less. But what if he was?

He got to his fit and joined her, kicking around some snow with his shoe as his mind kept racing about every single possibility. Does he just tell her? Just ask? What if he read the signs wrong? What if he messes everything up?

“Isn’t it romantic?” His thoughts were ripped away as he turned towards her. She was looking up at the sky. “Like a Christmas movie. The first snow of the season is said to bring promise to a new love, funny huh?”

Boomers eyes widened suddenly. Was...was she wanting this to turn romantic? This entire time had he been pining from a far when she was ready to take the leap? No. they had talked about relationships before, well hers at least. She was probably just saying it because she was a hopeless romantic.

But then again, Bubbles had always been the bold type. Always telling him that she had been dropping hints for some guy and now come to think of it...had she been talking about him?

“Yeah, romantic.” He decided to finally respond.

He watched as her smile turned down slightly as she looked at him with a gaze he didn't recognize. “Well, I should probably be heading back home now.” She said somewhat sadly.

“Oh yeah, before the snow sets. Thank you by the way.” He held up the boxes and she gave him a better smile.

“Of course. And thank you for this.” She tugged on her necklace. “I’ll see you soon.” She said as she turned around and began to walk.

Something within him was yelling. An eternal battle now raging in his mind. What if he? No, he shouldn’t. But, imagine the positives.

He was hoping for a Christmas miracle.

Boomer ran up behind her, matching her speed as he grabbed her hand and turned her towards him before dropping it and rubbing his arm.

“Hey Bubbles?” Boomer asked nervously. His cheeks had decided to betray him and turn a pretty pink shade as Bubbles tilted her head.

“Yes?”

He sent his boxes down as her eyes remained on him. His hand shook nervously at his sides while her baby blue eyes looked at him. Butterflies were doing cartwheels in his stomach now but he was already here so...

“I have one last present but-” He gulped. “Y-you have to close your eyes.” He said as he took a step forward.

“Close my eyes?” She said with a small smile as he came even closer to her. His hands took hers softly as his thumb rubbed a slight circle on her hand.

“Yeah but if you don’t like it, you can return it.”

“Is that so?” She giggled as she stared into his eyes almost knowingly. “Well, I shouldn’t keep waiting then.” She said as her eyes closed and he felt like the world had disappeared around them, leaving them in the snowy park.

Boomer calmed his breathing as he stared at her. The soft pink of her cheeks from the bitter cold and how the smallest bit of snow landed on her lashes. Never before had his heart pounded as heavily as it did now as he closed the gap and kissed her with the gentleness of the first fallen snow.

He felt the sudden push against his lips. It was a beautiful sensation that he never thought would happen as she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him further. It was an answer to a question he had been asking for months, hell, maybe even years. Wondering if he could step over this line in the sand and it would be okay. That their friendship, trust and loyalty wouldn’t be corrupted but instead, stronger. It was clear that the line had been stepped over, no, completely erased without a second thought.

Their lips pulled apart and he couldn’t tell if the redness up her neck was from the cold nipping at their skin or the intense blushing from what just happened. All he knew was that she was smiling at him, just like she always had before.

“Boomer?” Her voice was just loud enough for his ears.

“Yeah?” He said almost out of breath.

“I don’t need a gift receipt.”

That fluttering in his chest began again as his face broke out into the brightest smile she had ever seen.

“That's great news.” Boomer smirked as he spun her around and dipped her by the waist like he saw in all those cheesy romance movies. “Because the return date had just expired.” He said just as he kissed her again.

---

His hand was warm from the take out cup of hot chocolate while his other hand was laced with hers and it felt more natural than breathing. She took her own cup to her lips, tasting the sweet chocolate as it helped to heat up the rest of her body and he wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or not because he was still in disbelief that he was here with her.

Bubbles caught him staring and instead of a playful scold, she inched closer to him and placed a quick peck on his cheek.

“Merry Christmas Bubbles.”

“Merry Christmas.”

---

I hope you liked it <3 

[popatochisssp]

Fur a Good Time, Call... 13/15

Series: Undertale, Horrortale Relationship(s): HT!Sans/Reader, HT!Papyrus & Reader, HT!Sans & HT!Papyrus Chapter Warnings: discussion of past suicidal ideation

You work at an animal shelter. You love all your fuzzy buddies and can’t imagine a better job for yourself than looking after cats and dogs all day, even when the work is hard and often gross. What can you say? You’ve got a lot of love to give!

You’re just not quite sure yet how you feel about the new monster who’s been helping out these days, and this riddle wrapped up in an enigma is something you just can’t resist investigating…

AO3 Link

Heart

It’s far from the last time you go to Grillby’s.

Now that Sans has broken the metaphorical ice, he seems intent on keeping his promise to Grillby to do better. The cozy little monster pub quickly becomes a regular spot for you, lunch breaks and date-nights alike.

You meet the occasional human here and there, friends or dates of the regulars or just people lucky enough to have stopped in and gotten hooked on the fire elemental’s stellar cooking…but mostly you get to know the monsters.

Audrey’s fascinated by human cuisine and takes cooking classes with Burr every Thursday night. Apparently, it’s their designated couple’s activity, and they’re such a subtle pair you never would’ve guessed they were together until they told you.

Some weird cat guy whose real name you can’t get out of anyone for the life of you—surely he can’t actually be named Burgerpants?—loves coming in and getting really high in the corner booth. You’re not about to judge, though: he’s always wearing a retail uniform when you see him and however tense and stressed out he is on his way in, BP’s always chill and smiling on his way out, so whatever works for him!

The dogs are a hoot and a half, especially when they find out that you work with dogs for a living. They only get more excited to learn that you and Sans actually have a dog at home, which leads to Buddy coming to visit Grillby’s one night and…

Well…it’s a good thing that you’re already used to loud barking from your time at the shelter. Your ears didn’t stop ringing for hours after that night.

Dino gushes about his son, Franco loudly negotiates gigs over his bluetooth, and Grillby…

Grillby doesn’t say much, actually, but his warm and glowing presence behind the bar is steady and reassuring.

You love it.

You love Grillby’s, and you love all the incredibly sweet and fascinating people you meet there, but most of all, you love what going so often is doing for Sans.

He’s…lighter these days, a little more unburdened. He smiles easier, jokes quicker, laughs louder, and it’s delightfully different.

……No.

On second thought…it’s not different at all.

He’s still Sans—your Sans, all the way down to his marrow—but just…more.

It’s Sans the way he is when it’s just you and Papyrus around, but more often, even at work where he’s usually so closed off and shy, and it feels like the coolest damn thing to get to see other people finally getting to know the sweet and funny guy you care so much about.

Your relationship with Sans takes a nice, easy slide into the comfortable; so comfortable, in fact, that you manage to give poor Papyrus another conniption about it.

“What Do You Mean, You Don’t Have Anything Planned?!”

Silently, you and Sans share a look and shrug.

You know that you, at least, feel an awful lot like a kid being scolded by the teacher for not handing in an assignment. It’s hard not to feel that way with Papyrus looming over you, hands on his hips and impatiently tapping his foot.

“I Am So Disappointed,” he tsks, completing the illusion. “You’re Just Going To Sit Around The House Like Lumps—”

That had been your plan.

“—On Your Own Six-Monthiversary???”

“i don’t think that’s a thing.”

“Of Course It’s A Thing, Sans!” Papyrus snaps. “Human, Tell Him It’s A Thing!”

“……I…guess?”

“There, You See? They Agree With Me! You’re Being A Terrible Datemate!”

Okay, you can’t let that go unchallenged.

“I don’t think that, baby,” you say to Sans, quietly but Papyrus hears you anyway.

“Don’t Tell Him That! He’ll Never Learn Without Consequences!”

You raise your eyebrows. “He would learn with consequences?” you ask incredulously.

“………Stop Making Valid Points!” Papyrus demands in return.

“i feel so attacked right now,” Sans chimes in, but he’s laughing so you doubt his feelings are really hurt.

“Well, How Do You Think They Feel?! Look At Them!”

Sans looks at you and you smile up at him.

“yeah, cute as ever.”

“No! Heartbroken! Let Down! Devastated!”

You don’t really want to make Pap a liar… You frown, just a little bit, utterly fake and disingenuous.

“Yes, Perfect, Like That!”

It’s a struggle not to ruin the expression by laughing.

“Sans, Your Poor Human Naïvely Hoped Against All Logic And Reason That You Might Do Something Special For Them On This Most Important And Momentous Of Days! That You Would Go Against Your Very Nature And Find One Tiny Romantic Bone In Your Body— ”

“ouch, ‘tiny’?”

“—And Sh………You Are Vulgar, Oh My God! For Once In Your Life Of Laziness And Terrible Puns, Be Serious—And Don’t You Dare Say You Can’t Be ‘Serious’ If You’re ‘Sans,’ I Am All Too Aware That You Are Sans!”

You give up, you’re laughing.

Your boys are just too fucking funny, watching them argue is like watching the best improv sketch you’ve ever seen.

“Look, You’ve Made Them Hysterical!”

“oh no. i’m the worst.”

“No One Is Arguing That, And You Are So Lucky That I’m Here To Help You.”

You take a moment to try and get yourself together, deep breaths and not looking directly at either of these damn jokers.

“Oh, Good,” Papyrus grins at you. “You’re Coming Around To Acceptance! I Think You Skipped Over Anger And Bargaining Somewhere In There, But I Admire Your Efficiency!”

Pfft! “Thanks,” you eke out, just barely tamping down a giggle.

“Now, Then,” he says, very seriously, settling a comforting hand on your shoulder, “Sans Is Going To Make Up For His Grievous Oversight And Take You On A Lovely Six-Monthiversary Date.”

“i am? cool.” Sans slings an arm around you, gently pulling you out of his brother’s grip. “been dyin’ for some cheesy fries—”

“No!” Papyrus tugs you back, glaring at Sans. “No Grillby’s! It’s Bad Enough That That’s Your Usual, You Don’t Go To Your Usual For A Six-Monthiversary! It’s A Special Occasion!”

Sans frowns, but seems to take the proclamation in stride. “alright, so…what do ‘i’ have in mind?”

“That’s! ……” Papyrus squints down at you. “That Obviously Has To Be A Surprise.”

Without further ado, you’re nudged carefully yet forcefully to the stairs—shooed away like a too-curious cat from a museum.

“Wait, Pap, what—”

“Don’t Argue!” he chides, unmoved by your confusion. “Go Wait Upstairs For Awhile! Sans Will Get You When His Surprise Is Ready!”

You spare a last look at Sans, who seems only mildly amused by whatever is happening here. He gives you a little wave that makes you smile, and you willingly disappear up the steps.

Down below you, you can still hear a faint exchange, hissed whispers and murmuring, but you can’t make any of the words out, so you don’t bother to keep eavesdropping.

Besides, a romantic surprise sounds…kind of nice.

Whether it was actually Sans’ idea or not, a date with your funnybones was always something to look forward to.

-

You decide to go hang out in Sans’ room while you wait.

You suppose Papyrus’ room is also an option—you don’t think he’d necessarily mind you waiting there—but you feel a little more comfortable encroaching on your boyfriend’s space than on Papyrus’.

You hang out with him in there a lot, for naps and indoor tornado-watching and majorly nerdy (but interesting), casual geology lessons with his rock collection, so it seems like the best option for now.

The piney scent of air freshener tickles your nose when you walk in and you figure Sans must’ve cleaned sort of recently. He’s been pretty good about that lately, maybe especially because you’re in here more often, and it makes you happy that he has a mostly tidy area for himself.

You still remember how cluttered it used to be, and even with a stray sock or discarded t-shirt on the floor here and there, it’s a major improvement.

(You are…a big enough person to admit to some envy over it. Your own room could certainly do with some attention and you make a mental note to take care of that soon.)

Sans’ desk is, naturally, the most organized: it’s where all his rocks are, meticulously sorted and catalogued by means that are…probably very scientific and make perfect sense.

To you, it seems totally random, but you still like to look at all of Sans’ cool specimens and see how many of them you can remember.

Tiger’s eye is easy and so is jade. You remember that the purpley-green one carved into an obelisk is fluorite because Sans made a hilariously terrible pun about it one time that apparently burned it into your brain.

The smooth whitish one in the middle of the desk is harder. It’s iridescent, which you’d think would make it easy to identify, but apparently you were really bad at telling the difference between moonstone and opal.

Sans, being your oh-so-hilarious funnybones, loved to swap them out on you and snicker when you got it wrong, so you pretty much give up on that one entirely.

The polished purple ball is definitely amethyst…ooh, or is it charoite? It looks kind of squiggly and you can’t remember if amethyst is ever that squiggly…

You need more light.

You flick on the desk lamp and the rocks illuminate, sheens and glitter galore that make you feel like some sort of goblin with a primal urge to hoard the shiny, sparkly things before you.

The purple is charoite for sure, and you’re…roughly eighty percent certain that the other one is an opal today, too many colors in it to be moonstone.

But you’re also a little distracted by the weird glint the extra light is causing down by the floor, behind the desk.

You bend down to investigate and find a stray rock, wedged between the desk-leg and the wall. It’s the work of seconds to get it free and when you’ve got it…

Huh.

It’s a decently-sized black rock, dusty where it had been face-up and shiny where it wasn’t. It must have been stuck down there a good long while.

You take your shirt to it, carefully wiping it off and making sure to be mindful the places where it sharply curves into peaked edges, and soon it’s shiny all over, gleaming almost mirror-like from your hand.

You’d never been quizzed on this one before, but obsidian was one of the more recognizable types of rocks out there.

Volcanic glass, your brain helpfully adds and you feel a burst of excitement at knowing a rock fact Sans didn’t have to tell you.

You wonder if he’d be proud of you for that and shake your head, feeling silly for the thought.

Of course he’d be proud of you, and then he’d probably immediately find a way to make a pun out of it. You weren’t sure how, ‘obsidian’ didn’t seem like a very punnable word, but if anyone could find a way, it would be Sans.

You smile and go to set the rock back on his desk where it belonged, but pretty quickly realize there’s a roadblock.

You don’t actually know where on the desk it belongs. There’s clearly some sort of system but you have no clue what it is.

Messing up one of the few things Sans has bothered to organize, even in a tiny way, feels…kinda rude…

You elect to hold onto it until Sans comes to get you.

Since you have no idea what the surprise is and what the wait time on it is, you also plop yourself onto the bed and get comfy.

No sense standing around forever for no reason, right?

You intend to take out your phone and start playing games to pass the time, but you end up playing with the little obsidian chunk in your hands instead. It’s enticingly smooth beneath your fingers, cool but rapidly warming to the heat of your body as you keep stroking your thumb over its surface without rhyme or reason.

Its edges are a little sharp and kind of jagged, but they’re pretty easy to avoid once you properly map them out and besides that, you like the way they look. It…it’s got character, like a lot of your favorite things in this life.

A lot of your favorite people.

You start to wonder if Sans would miss this particular little rock if you just went ahead and kept it, like that shiny-hoarding goblin you felt like a few minutes ago.

…Nah, that would be pretty uncool of you.

You’ll give it back when—

“hey, babe, y’ready for, heheheh, ‘my’ surprise?”

You sit up, grinning and chuckling a little yourself to see Sans holding a blanket and a picnic basket, of all things. “Oh boy, am I ever! Papyrus…does know it’s nighttime, right?”

“………”

You follow Sans’ gaze when he doesn’t answer you right away. He’s looking at the obsidian in your hands and you scoff.

“Oh, right, I, uh…I found this! I wasn’t sure where it was supposed to go, so I—”

“where?”

“What?”

“where…was that?” The tightness in Sans’ voice makes you frown. You’re suddenly extra glad you didn’t just steal it because it seems…important, somehow?

You can’t read it all, but there’s a lot of emotion on his skull right now, more than there should be for just some average, run of the mill rock.

You wonder what the story is, but ultimately, you don’t need to know.

“It was behind your desk. It must’ve fallen off or something,” you say. You hold it out to him, smiling gently. “Here, you can put it…wherever it’s supposed to be!”

Sans reaches for it. He’s unusually slow in taking it from you, his bony fingers just…hovering over your open palm for a long moment.

You look up at him in surprise when instead, he closes his hand around yours, the obsidian still inside.

“keep it,” he says.

“What…seriously?” Your eyebrows knit in something approaching concern. “But…”

“but nothin’. ya’ like it, don’tcha?”

Damn him and his ability to read you like a book sometimes. “Well…yeah, but…”

You weren’t sure how, but…it was an important rock to him, right? It had to be! Some…some sort of memento or…stars, maybe a family heirloom or something!

“i want you to have it,” Sans says simply.

His tone is surprisingly firm. You’re not sure you’ve ever heard him speak so matter-of-factly, so you know he means it, but still…

“It’s…it’s not important…?”

“nah.” That feels like a lie, but he immediately follows it with, “it was supposed to be away, i must’ve missed it in the great rock purge of 20XX. doesn’t belong on the desk, anyway, you’d be doin’ me a favor if ya’ just took it. really.”

“……You just don’t want to dig out the shoeboxes for it,” you accuse.

Sans laughs, deeply amused…and maybe just a little bit relieved.

“ya’ got me,” he admits. “s’a lotta work for one little stone and, uh, between you an’ me…i didn’t really get’cha anything for our six-monthiversary.”

You give him an exaggerated gasp of shock. “No!”

“i know, i know” he sighs, just as dramatically. “m’a cad. a scoundrel. a ne’er-do-well…whatever that is.”

“Harsh, but fair.” Sans releases your hand and you look at the…your obsidian. “Well…I’m honored by your thoughtless, last minute gift of rock.” You grin at him a little slyly. “Great minds think alike?”

Sans grins back. “you know it,” he says, and out comes the convenience store paperweight from his pocket, the one you’d bought him all those months ago back before you’d even been dating. “take it with me everywhere.”

You know he does and that makes you feel stupidly warm and gooey.

“I guess I can return the favor, now,” you say, slipping the obsidian into a pocket of your own. “Couples’ pocket-rocks: we’re gonna start a new trend.”

“heheheheheheh, trendsetters, that’s us.” Sans leans down to nuzzle the top of your head, gentle and sweet as always. “just be careful with it, yeah? s’a little sharp—you’re squishy.”

“I choose to take that as a compliment.”

“good, ‘cause it is one.” You get another gentle bump of teeth against your forehead and Sans pulls you to your feet. “c’mon, let’s go, i’ll tell ya’ all about your present on the way.”

Sans surprises you by actually walking all the way downstairs with you instead of just shortcutting you wherever it was you were going.

True to his word, he gives you a whole miniature lecture in the course of the trip about the care and keeping of your new obsidian—you learn that you can wash it with warm water and gentle soap, but not to use anything abrasive on it because that could damage the polished sheen.

You cut in when he starts to say it’s formed from molten rock to tell him that you know it’s volcanic glass, and just as you thought, he looks both surprised and proud of you for already knowing a rock thing.

He also says your observation was ‘ingenious’ but his inflection makes it sound an awful lot like the word ‘igneous,’ so you were right on both counts.

You sure know your big dork of a skeleton.

You notice the conspicuous lack of Papyrus and Buddy as you walk to your destination and figure Pap probably made the both of them scarce to give you and Sans a little privacy for your apparently very important milestone date and the consideration is appreciated.

So is the big, fluffy blanket that Sans slings around your shoulders as soon as you step out into the moderately chilly backyard.

Winter is on its slow way out still, but by now all the snow is melted and the air is what you’d describe as brisk instead of outright cold. With the blanket, it’s more than bearable, which is probably a good thing.

With the picnic basket and the telescope set up in the middle of the yard, you think you’re probably going to be out here awhile.

“Stargazing?” you ask, unable to disguise the excitement in your voice.

“heheheh, stargazing,” Sans agrees. He waggles the picnic basket enticingly. “plus snacks. Pap snuck a couple thermoses in there, could be soup, could be tea…”

“Could be cocoa.”

“endless possibilities.” The red of Sans’ eye-light looks pleasantly soft and warm beneath the cold, white moonlight and you find yourself instinctively leaning in. “happy six-monthiversary, babe.”

You kiss him. You don’t think there’s anything else you can do.

-

It takes…longer than you’re willing to admit to get to the actual date part of your date.

It’s hardly your fault that Sans’ nuzzling is addictive, or that his big hands stroking your back and shoulders through the blanket is something you never want to pull away from.

Eventually, though, you pick at the snacks while Sans fusses with the telescope a little, telling you how to use it while he picks a good spot in the mostly cloudless night to settle it on.

You’re surprised that Papyrus just had something like this lying around, and Sans surprises you even further by admitting it’s his—the same one he once told you he rented out Underground.

“could only look at a ceiling back then,” he says, distractedly. “view’s way better up here. c’mon, take a look.”

You get up and wander over to the telescope, hesitating a second because the last thing you want to do is damage one of Sans’ older possessions.

“don’t worry, i wiped the paint off the eye-piece,” Sans promises. “Pap made me, you’re safe.”

You laugh. “God, of course you pranked people with it, I should’ve known…”

Still, you trustingly look through the telescope, hoping Papyrus really did have your back on this one.

You forget all about it when you see the stars, closer and brighter than you’ve seen them in a long time—maybe ever.

“Wow…”

Sans comes up behind you, helping you adjust and move the telescope around here and there to different corners of the heavens. It really is a view that’s just…

“beautiful…”

You pull away, tilting your head back to find Sans observing the sky with just his own eye-sockets.

The dreamy awe on his skull makes you feel even cozier than your blanket and you gently nudge him in the ribs. “You want a turn on your own telescope, or…?”

Sans doesn’t even look at you as he says, “nah, m’good. this is plenty for now.”

You huff out a little laugh, leaning back against Sans and just looking up with him. “You really love the sky, huh?”

“understatement,” he murmurs. “it’s wild that ya’ just…have this, all the time.”

You can’t imagine what living your entire life in a cave must’ve been like. You don’t care to, it can’t have been good, even before it got a million times worse with the famine and everything attached to it.

“What’s your favorite kind of sky?” you ask him, curious.

“what, ever?” You make a noise of agreement and Sans pauses to consider it. “sunrise, probably. all the colors…an’ the sun, that was a hell of a thing, that first time…”

Sounds right. You’d seen some truly incredible sunrises in your time on this planet and even when you took them for granted, you still always thought they were pretty.

“even…even this, though,” Sans says. “even when it’s night an’ the sun is gone, ya’ still get this. the moon, an’ clouds, an’…an’ stars, damn…there’s so many, i never…i never thought…”

He trails off and you let him. You can guess the ways he may have finished it and you don’t need him to say any of them.

Instead, you say, “There’s a million constellations, too. You know any? I can pretty much just point out the dippers, and that’s on a good day. Well, night.”

“heheheheh…funny you ask, i, uh…” he sounds a little shy as he admits, “i used to wanna learn about that stuff…constellations, y’know. …never got around to it.”

“How come?”

“……”

You can’t look up anymore when Sans settles his chin atop your head, hugging you closer to him.

“…never had much hope,” he says eventually. “lot of us did, i guess. even after the…the human.” He chuckles a little and it sounds tired. “Pap always believed…that we’d get up here one day, see the stars for real. but i…i dunno, it was harder for me to…to think that way. it didn’t seem like a thing that’d ever happen.”

“It did though,” you’re quick to remind him. “You’re here. You’re out.”

You get a grateful little squeeze for that. “yeah, i know. just…wasn’t always that way. didn’t see much point learnin’ stuff i was never gonna get to use.”

You reach up, idly petting at one of the arms Sans had wrapped around your midsection. The worn, blue fabric of his hoodie is much softer than the sturdy bones beneath it, but you find you love them both in equal measure.

“i, uh…actually, for awhile there…” Sans speaks haltingly, carefully weighing each of his words, and you keep quiet and let him. “when we…started collecting souls again…and seeing the surface seemed like it was actually gonna happen…i…i kinda hoped i…wouldn’t see it?”

“…What do you mean, baby?”

Sans takes a breath from behind you, holding it before letting it out in a whoosh.

“i…i used to hope i’d dust before we ever got up here.”

A bolt of fearful grief strikes through you, robbing you of speech.

Sans keeps talking, though.

“thought it’d be hunger,” he says, too casually for the subject matter. “always…i always felt it the most in between humans…hoped i would……an’ then i wouldn’t have to…to do it again. or maybe karma’d get me, one of ‘em would…would see me comin’ an’ fight back, dust me then.”

This wasn’t…entirely new to you. Sans had talked about this once before, briefly, telling you in passing about feelings like these.

It had come on the heels of so much other shocking information and it had been painful to hear then, but it feels so much worse now to hear Sans talk about dying.

You think you hadn’t loved him then, not the way you do now, and stars above, you do love him now.

The very thought of Sans not being around wouldn’t feel so much like losing a limb if you didn’t.

You’re not sure if you make a sound or if he can just feel that you’re upset, but Sans nuzzles at you, making hushing noises of comfort.

“s’okay, baby, s’okay, i’m not…you don’t gotta worry about me, i never… made an attempt or anything, i don’t…i don’t got that in me. s’just how i felt sometimes, on the bad days. i wanted…to punish myself, i think. for doin’ the stuff i did.”

His arms uncurl from your body and his hands are held out just in front of you. By the moonlight, you see the pale bones of his metacarpals, scraped and rough, and you don’t hesitate a second to fill them with your own hands.

“You don’t…” You bite your lip. “Do you…still think that way…?”

You’re a little afraid of the answer, but you need to hear it.

Sans spins you around to face him, your arms briefly tangling in your urge to not let go of Sans, but when you get it all sorted out…

He’s smiling at you, warm and real.

“no,” he says. “i don’t. not really.”

Your relief is so strong that for a moment, you feel weightless.

“got my bad days. happens, but…not bein’ around doesn’t really appeal the way it used to, y’know? got more stuff i wanna stick around for.”

There aren’t words for how happy you are to hear that.

“i got Pap, the guys at grillby’s, all those fluffy idiots at the shelter…” He chuckles a little and adds, “the fluffy idiot back in the house.”

“Hey,” you manage to say sternly, “that’s no way to talk about our son.”

One of his hands leaves yours, coming up to cradle your cheek.

“i got you, too,” he says softly, looking down at you with lidded eye-sockets.

For a second, you’re sure your heart is about to beat out of your chest, but he breaks your gaze to look up again.

“an’ i got the sky. there’s a whole lot of stuff for me to hope about these days, and...” Sans smiles just a little bit wider. “hell, i think i’d even say i’m…happy.”

Stars, you’re happy, too.

Here, in the arms of the strongest, most wonderful man you know, you don’t think you could be any happier.

You really do love him.

You press your face into his hand, turning just enough to be able to kiss it.

“Hey,” you say against his palm, “let’s learn constellation stuff.”

Sans snorts, building into a not-entirely-dismissive laugh.

“what, for real?” he says, like he can’t quite believe you said it. “you don’t think it’s, uh…heheheh, a little late for me to be learnin’ new stuff?”

He raps his knuckles against his skull with a hollow ‘tok-tok,’ but you don’t let it deter you.

“That’s why I wanna do it together!” you explain. “We can help each other out, it could be fun. Couples’ astrology!”

You see him trying and failing to hold back another laugh. “astronomy,” he corrects you. “unless you’re askin’ me what my sign is. real roundabout way of doin’ this, you’re supposed to ask my sign an’ then date me, what if we’re not compatible?”

“Pffff, shut up, we’re compatible,” you insist. “You know the right kind of star-charts to google, and me…” You smirk at him, a crafty glint behind your eyes. “I make some killer flashcards.”

Sans stares at you for a few seconds, processing.

You go on high-alert when his eye-light starts doing that shivering thing again, but this time… This time, it doesn’t stabilize into its normal, perfectly round shape.

Your mouth drops open when you see it.

“Sans,” you breathe, your eyes going wide. “That’s adorable, I didn’t know you could do that!”

“………do what?”

“…Oh my god.” Your hand comes up to cover your mouth. “You don’t even know you’re doing it…?”

Sans frowns a little, starting to look concerned. “doing what?”

It’s so, so hard not to squeal, but… “Your eye is a heart, baby.”

The big, red heart-shape taking up Sans’ eye-socket is the cutest, sweetest thing you’ve ever seen. You love it, almost as much as you love Sanswhich, as you’re starting to realize, is a hell of a lot.

Sans is maybe not quite as thrilled about his eye-light’s new trick as you are.

As soon as he realizes what you’ve told him, he’s practically blushing his skull off, hurriedly covering his face and whirling away from you like you hadn’t seen what you’d just seen.

Unfortunately for his pride or his ego or whatever was bruised right now, you aren’t exactly prepared to let it go.

You chase after him, trying to tug his arm away. “Come ooooon,” you whine playfully, “that was cute, I wanna see it!”

“no, nuh-uh,” Sans grumbles, trying to be gruff to scare you off, but he can’t fool you after that affectionate display.

He’s a softie, through and through, and you can’t get enough of it.

“Saaaaaans…!”

“no! quit it! it’s not, don’t!”

There’s a bit of a scuffle that’s about as one-sided as you could imagine: you’re a wily little human and he’s a gentle giant of a skeleton who’d never lay a hand on you.

Even when your blanket falls off and you both hit the ground on top of it, Sans manages to roll so that he takes most of the impact and you end up…well, exactly where you want to be—on top of him, bracing yourself against his rib-cage while he lies on his back beneath the moon and the stars.

You take a moment to catch your breath, winded from the little play-fight and your laughter. It’s a little disappointing to see that his eye-light is back to its normal shape, but you try not to get too down about it.

If you got him to do it once, you could get him to do it again. You’d just have to try harder from now on.

Sans is…very handsome from this angle, in this lighting. You think he’s handsome pretty much all the time, but right now especially…

You wonder if now would be a good time to tell him that thing you just realized, with that four-letter word that so many people were scared to say.

You open your mouth, ready to tell him.

“I—”

“y’shouldn’t play rough like that, that’s grounds for a break-up.”

“…snrk!”

So like Sans to break the tension with a shitty joke.

It’s part of the many, many reasons you love him.

You laugh and he grins proudly, his embarrassment easily forgotten and you’re happy to help it along by leaning down for a kiss.

“Stop trying to distract me,” you say against his teeth. “Let’s talk about those flashcards. Four-by-six?”

“ya’ gotta be kiddin’, with the size of my hands?” They land on your hips, holding your much smaller self steady with ease. “five-by-eight is barely good enough. lined or unlined?”

“Lined,” you say forcefully. “Don’t you ever suggest unlined to me again, I’m offended.”

Sans laughs. “offended over note-cards, an’ you call me a nerd?”

You hit him with the flattest look you can manage.

“Sans, you gave me a lecture on the care and keeping and properties of obsidian on the fly. No prior notice. Yeah, you’re a nerd!”

“that’s in these days, though, right? nerds are hot?”

Yours sure was.

“Eh, you’ll do,” is what you say.

It seems to be the right thing because Sans happily pulls you down for another nuzzle that you enthusiastically return.

All things considered, it’s probably the best six-monthiversary date you’ve ever had.

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