#*crickets*

The living room is the absolute perfect temperature.

A slow day meant to be spent indoors with a loved one, doing.. pretty much not a damn thing in the company of each other.

It's comfortable. A preferred pace of literally nothing as you faintly register the fact a calm rain has started. The short-term and brain-deteriorating content on your phone all you were really caring about—without actually caring much about it.

Something you do to shut your mind off and pass a bit of time, really. A popular activity when you're sitting with Sans in the living room, butts imprinted on the cushions that sink.

In your typical position of you sat upright and flush to the backrest, while Sans… He takes a much more cuddly approach. Something you would have taken for your own, but he long established you as his teddy bear before you could protest.

..Not that you would have objected.

His legs slung over the arm of the couch, head tucked into your lap, and a little on his side facing away from you so he can read his Kindle.

The situation perfect for mindlessly scritching his skull as you just as mindlessly watch video shorts. The two of you parallel playing in content silence, snug as a bug.

…

Up until the random and unfiltered stories turned to something that actually sparked a coherent thought and an interest.

Super cute and various trends girlfriends record and do with their boyfriends. 'Would You Rathers', something where they try to finish each others' sentences, a.. 'Blindfold Kiss Challenge'? And…

The worm thing.

You forgot all about the fabled worm thing…

Would Sans do that with you?—Why was that even a question, of course he would. In a soulbeat. Dumbass cutesy shit is what he lives for. Y'all have even baked a cake with you blindfolded and him muted, so.. Like…

Movement from your lap draws you out of the one train of thought you had, though you quickly find a new one upon looking down to see what it is he's doing.

Getting impossibly more comfortable on you. Like he belongs there, on you, in your care and against your warmth.

You're struck with cuteness aggression, but you keep your hands to yourself for now.

During his adjustments, he caught your soft gaze in his peripheral, and he stops to more properly turn his head and look up at you.

His smile shifts lopsided upon 'catching you' looking at him all sweetly, and his smirk opens to prompt, "yess..?" Hoping to get something out of engaging you. Maybe a little compliment about how cute he is, because why else would you be gazing down at him like this?

But.. all he gets is a stupid and horrendously blunt question, with a tone of voice as neutral as possible, "Would you love me if I were a worm?"

…

…

He quirks a brow, though there's no other change in expression the way he's staring at you.

You push, not any deterred, "Serious inquiry."

Sans' smile very quickly changes to something bordering on insanity, his eyesockets squinting in absolute mirth—the change so fast you get a little whiplash of surprise—the type of face you've come to recognize as 'you hit his autism jackpot with this one.'

What has he done?

"i just gotta show ya somethin'."

He's already standing up, Kindle long-gone to his Inventory, and your hand is taken to pull you up to your feet with him.

You're.. being dragged to his room?

The smile he's sporting is audible, "been waiting for this question."

"Literally what? What does that mean?"

His door is slammed open, and he drops your hand to jog in.

"Sans."

You know he is absolutely vibrating with excitement when he puts in the physical effort to get on his stomach(?) and reach far beneath his bed.

Sans slings out a few sweaters that were folded, a box of Jordan's with.. you ignore the price tag you caught a glimpse of. Some heavy textbooks you could squash a horde of roaches with in one blow, more clothes (?).

Three over-flowing folders. Unnecessarily fancy ones made of brown leather, corners decorated in gold trim, and is the type with the three rings that hold papers in place.

He sits up onto his knees with them in hand. And while kicking his things back under, catches you staring weird. "what?"

Pointing at his alpha-wolf-CEO-ass folders, "How much did you spend on those?"

"garage sale. 5 gold each."

Huh.

The used-to-be-expensive folders get thrown onto his mattress, where—with excessive and giddy flare, paired with a wink at you—he swings the first one open.

Front page is labeled "The Varieties of Glass Enclosures: The Pros and Cons to Each Kind".

…Ain't no way.

He begins his presentation, "so," flipping through to pictures of different glass jars and bottles, "starting off small, we got these. cutesy and portable, sure—something i think you'd like to live in if you were a worm, but the lack of space would make it difficult to spoil you rotten. and also, a lot of these have such narrow openings, so you wouldn't even get to have a cool rock."

You're given a very pointed and serious look, "you need a cool rock." Turning back to his folder, "so these are a no-go."

He skips about twelve pages to get to aquariums that could take up an entire garage, "you'd be a worm, so i imagine it'll be okay for me to commit federal fraud under your credit lender to buy you the best of the best."

"while we're here, could you please pick out an enclosure for yourself? it would really save me the stress on my heart organ if you did it yourself. i'd hate to inconvenience you with any poor choices i make."

"…" Safe to say you're blanked the hell out.

He playfully pushes, "…well?"

You pinch your brow and shut your eyes, trying to figure out if this is real or not. "Can I decide later?"

A shrug of bony shoulders tells you that's not a problem at all, "yep!—ah, while we're also here, and something i think you'd have a far easier time deciding on than your permanent place of stay…"

Another folder is taken from the pile, and opened up to a random page somewhere in the middle.

Clothes he's drawn pictures of. And as he goes through the papers, you see he's made dozens. "how about we pick out some wormy clothes for you? something nice and presentable!"