#oh sam...

Gaster: ...Go to sleep.

     @mita-rashi

     He’s more than half asleep when she lets herself in, sprawled against the arm of his couch with a forgotten book curled in his lap and his feet up on the low coffee table. Yamato doesn’t even greet her, just cracks open his eyes and watches her putter about, taking off her shoes and her jacket and some of her weapons. He knows that if he lifts his head from the back of his couch that his neck will hurt, and the move might spur her into mouthing off at him, so he just stays perfectly still. 

     The air outside is brisk in a way only fall evenings can be, but his apartment is warm. Enough so that he’s just in his boxers, which means when she makes herself comfortable and tucks her little ice cube feet under his thigh, she is touching bare skin. It pushes a long sigh out of him, but he doesn’t flinch away. It’s just cold, and he’s very comfortable.

     But. Her feet are cold. He imagines that’s not very nice for her. There’s a blanket thrown over the back of the couch, so he pulls that down over her legs haphazardly and lets it lay with a couple of absent pats to her shin, before his hand slides instead to rest against the top of her left foot. His hand is just as warm as his thigh, and he rubs his thumb around her ankle bone a few times before digging it into the arch of her foot almost absentmindedly. Yamato’s other hand pulls the book from his lap-- he frowns when he discovers he’d lost his place, but sets it to the side with silent resolve that he’ll find it again if he feels like it. “Anko,” he starts hoarsely, and considers curling on his side so that he’s just laying on top of her legs. “I am going to get you the most ridiculous fuzzy socks in the world.”

(and Dean's reactions)