In which there is entirely too much winter.

Sans

Wow, the snow's really piling up out there.

I'm sitting on the couch, turned halfway around and watching what the news is calling "a record February snowstorm" cover the world in a soft white blanket. Paps is at work, but I don't know how much longer they'll let him stay there: most of the small businesses in town are closing down, sending people home before the roads get too dangerous. They're pretty bad already, and I watch with interest and a little concern as a car ambles by at about ten miles per hour, slewing slightly from side to side. Paps is s'posed to call me when he's ready to come home, but maybe I should take the initiative. What if he tries to drive in this? I mean, we can pick his car up when the roads are better. There's no reason for him to try and bring it home.

Yeah, I better go get him.

I 'port out to Precious Pets and get a kick out of the way the puppies start to bark as soon as I show up. I can't resist sticking my arm into their little pen on the floor and ruffling the fur of a couple. They go absolutely bonkers, swarming the front of the pen in irrepressible baby-dog joy. Heh. Puppies.

"SANS!" Paps comes up behind me and places an enormous hand on my head. "DO NOT RILE THEM UP! I JUST GOT THEM SETTLED DOWN!" I stand up, sorta wishing I could bring a puppy home with us. But, man, if we don't have legal rights we could become homeless at any time, or worse.

Things have deteriorated rapidly since that little girl got hurt. It's like the mere mention of segregation and registration drove home to some people that there are no laws protecting us. Several monsters have formed gangs with their friends now and are giving vigilante justice their best shot. Of course, this has only helped to convince people that monster gangs are something they should fear. I know Molly Moldsmal, who lives a couple towns over, recently had to move her family back to Ebott to live with her parents 'cause some jerks threw bricks through a bunch of her windows and the house is currently too cold to live in, and way too sharp for a group of monsters that can't wear shoes.

I sigh to myself. It's time to see what I can find out about that little girl and the monster kids that hurt her. I've collected evidence of every "monster violence" incident I could get my hands on, and Alphys has copies of it all. Not all of it exonerates us: anger is what it is, after all, and we're just as dangerous as humans when we don't think before we act. Humans are often meaner than monsters, sure, and that weird thing they have where groups of them start to all feel the same way? That's actually pretty creepy, that hive-mind thing they do. Not that I'm racist, or... or specist, or whatever. But, uh, that creeps me out. And thanks to their emotion-sharing thing, monster-hating humans are quickly becoming more common than human-hating monsters are. But all that still doesn't equal the destructive power of a boss monster on a rampage, and we're just lucky there aren't any boss monsters involved yet.

'Course, Undyne would throw herself right in if she was the sort to notice the prejudice, the drawn faces and muttered comments and the occasional stubborn refusal to sell us things or deal with us in any way. She's great, don't get me wrong, but she's... well, she's not the most observant monster on the planet, and she's inclined to just brush things off as "humans being weird again." Plus it seems like she doesn't get much flak due to being a mass of muscle topped with a bad attitude, a piratical eyepatch, and a smile from hell. If only all of us were that scary. Molly Moldsmal would still have her house, for one thing. Then again, being scary is part of our problem, apparently. Maybe if we were alarmingly Undyne-ish it would just make things worse.

It's getting worse, regardless. Undyne's bound to notice eventually.

Better ask Alphys to have a talk with her.

"we better go," I tell Paps, glancing outside through the storefront windows at the wild white world. The snow-clouds are so thick it makes everything dim and grey, and the swirling flakes are the size of my knuckles.

"BUT THE CAR! LITTLE DAISY! WE CANNOT LEAVE HER HERE ALL ALONE!" Damn. Knew it. Good thing I showed up.

"she'll be fine, paps," I tell him, and on impulse I add, "the puppies'll keep her company, and she likes the snow anyway."

"SHE DOES?" Paps's eyes are wide and innocent and so, so gullible.

"'course she does. who doesn't like snow?" I ask him. And he believes me. Thank god. "now go lock up and let's go home."

Paps locks the front door, I say goodbye to the puppies, Paps scolds me again, and then we're off.

Home feels a lot warmer with Paps there.

"I'LL MAKE SOME HOT CHOCOLATE!" he gushes, and charges for the kitchen. I pull out my phone and dial the café.

"Java the Hut," a cheerful voice singsongs. I feel a grin stretching across my face.

"hey, checkers. you guys closing early?"

"Sans!" Aww, she's happy to hear me, too. "Yep, just finishing up."

"i'll come getcha, then."

"Oh, uh, Roxy's coming home with me. Is that okay?"

"heh. 'course. i can take her to her house, too, if you want," I offer, a little belatedly.

"I think we'd like to have a sleepover," Checkers tells me, her voice a little too excited for somebody who's about to be trapped at home for the duration of an extreme-weather emergency.

"uh, okay." Not sure how well-prepared we are for a sleepover, but I guess I can always pick up supplies from the store and, well, and go back to pay for them when the place is open. Rather not, though.

I've been a little more cautious with my 'porting recently. It seems prudent, being a little, non-scary monster in a world full of edgy humans, to appear as helpless as possible. Not hard, considering I'm like five feet small and live a life of general sloth, but I've never kept my shortcuts an actual secret before. Sometimes I wonder if I should even bother hiding it, knowing how many people have seen it already. But, y'know, outta sight, outta mind. I hope.

"paps, i'm gonna pick up checkers."

"OK! THERE WILL BE HOT CHOCOLATE AND BROWNIES APPROXIMATELY TWENTY MINUTES AFTER YOU RETURN!" my bro calls from the kitchen.

"sweet," I say to myself, and am subsequently way too amused for someone whose pun had no audience. "roxy's comin' over, too," I add at a higher volume.

"OH, I LIKE THAT ROXY HUMAN!" Paps shouts back excitedly.

I chuckle as I step sideways into the empty space behind the world. I slide back into reality beside the big sink at the back of the café's kitchen. Checkers, wiping down a long counter, turns as soon as I arrive, as if she sensed my presence. "Hey!" she says happily, and I grin in response.

"hey. happy snow day."

"Sure is!" she chirps. Man, she's in a really good mood.

"you really like snow, huh?" I ask the question before I can stop myself. I've become almost obsessed with learning everything there is to know about her.

"Doesn't everybody?" She tosses the rag in a double sink near the counter, probably for dishes, and comes over to me.

I try not to study her face too hard, and say nonchalantly, "some people might think snow's all cold and wet."

"So are puppies' noses," Checkers says, still happy but also with a mischievous sparkle in her eye. "And who doesn't like those?"

"point," I concede. I struggle with a decision for a moment: should I ask if the wetness and coldness are what make puppies' noses likable, and possibly win an argument, or should I... "puppies, huh?" Goddammit, Sans.

She gives me an odd look. I shrug and try to look nonchalant. "Doesn't everybody love puppies?" she says, sort of reiterating her previous statement. "I'm more of a cat person," she admits. "How about you? Do you like cats?"

After a moment's thought, I have to respond, "guess i don't really know any."

"Well, they're great!" Checkers says enthusiastically. "At least... I s'pose it depends on the cat, to some degree," she adjusts her statement. "A happy, well-adjusted cat is great. A stressed-out one... Well, maybe it has more to do with the home than the animal," she finishes.

"just like dogs," I agree, stupidly happy to be learning so much about Checkers in this conversation. I take those dumb happy feelings and squeeze them into a little ball and imagine myself chucking them in the garbage disposal. It only helps a little, but it's enough to keep me from being obvious about my feelings. I hope.

"What's that thing they say?" Checkers muses, taking a couple steps closer to me and leaning against the wall by the freezer. "A pet becomes perfect when you learn to accept it for what it is?"

"hard to buy that when it's destroying your shoes." I smirk.

"Or peeing in them." Checkers grins.

We're still smiling at each other when Roxy comes flouncing into the kitchen, pushing a mop bucket. I tear my eyes away from Checkers and give Rox a wave. Hope I'm not blushing; I honestly have no idea how long I stood there smiling dopily at Checkers just 'cause she was smiling at me.

"Sleepover!" Roxy singsongs, and dumps the mop bucket in the big sink I'm standing next to. I get splashed with dirty mop water. I feel like it's divine retribution for being the world's biggest bonehead. "Oops, sorry," Roxy says, a little more subdued.

"water ya sorry for? i know ya like to make a splash."

"I take it back. I hate you and everything you stand for," Roxy snarks. I snicker.

"Is that it? Are we done?" Checkers asks, and flicks the lights off. The emergency lights stay on, shrouding the kitchen in shadows. Checkers stiffens suddenly and crosses her arms. I tense in sympathy: she's told me the emergency lighting at work freaks her out now. After a moment she starts tapping her fingers against her arms, tippety-tappety-tap, and she seems to calm down a bit. It's become a little trick of hers to stave off panic attacks. Grounds her in reality, she says.

"All finished!" Rox chirps, and grabs me around the neck. "C'mon, let's go!" she shouts to Checkers.

"uh, doesn't work like that," I tell her. "it's a one-at-a-time thing."

"Oh." Roxy pouts a little.

"yeah," I elaborate. "distance doesn't matter, really, but mass does. three's one two many."

"Was... that... ARGH!" Roxy groans in dismay as the pun registers. Checkers giggles. She liked that one, huh? I feel my cheekbones warm and I'm suddenly grateful for the dim lighting. I give Checkers a wink and offer her my hand, thinking she wouldn't like to stay here by herself, even for a second. She shrugs and gestures for me to take Roxy first, smiling at her friend's enthusiasm.

A little anxious myself, I pop back to the house with Rox, who immediately releases my neck and shouts, "Papyrus!"

"FRIEND ROXY!" I hear from the kitchen as I slip back into the café. I chuckle.

Checkers is still standing where we left her, and as she comes to me I have to fight the urge to shy away from her, and the equally powerful temptation to lean into her when she puts her arms around my neck. Her whole body presses into me and her breath warms the side of my skull. My arms come up and wrap around her, holding her to me. I want this to last forever. Oh, god, she's gonna notice she's gonna notice...

I clamp down on my feelings and pull Checkers into our living room, desperate to put a little space between us before I do something I'll regret. There's a slight reluctance, though, in the way she disengages from me. She draws back slowly, gazing at my face, a little smile dancing on her lips. My fingertips slide across her sides as she steps backwards, and for a second her shirt catches, hitches up, and one of my fingers skims the skin just above her waistband. I didn't do it on purpose, I swear. It just happened. I yank my hand away like she burned me. "sorry," I mumble. She's so soft, my mind insists on interjecting. Shut up, I tell it.

"It's okay," Checkers says breathily, looking a little wide-eyed and dazed. She puts her hand to the spot I touched and slowly, delicately pulls her shirt back down.

"Brownies!" comes a voice from the kitchen.

"BROWNIES!" Paps's voice echoes Roxy's, for some reason just as excited, even though the brownies were his idea and he can't possibly be surprised. "BROWNIES!"

"Brownies brownies!"

"Uhh..." Checkers glances towards the kitchen. "I see we're having cake."

I snort and have to stifle my laughter with my sleeve. Ugh, it's all wet and funky from the mop water accident. "eurgh," I say blandly, and pull my hoodie off. Checkers takes a step closer to me and gently pulls the jacket out of my hands.

"I'll wash it," she offers. Best friend ever. She looks down at my t-shirt and sees it's got a wet spot, too. "And that," she states as if she's giving an order. I gaze at her for a moment more, and as I realize what she wants, heat surges through my body. Oh, come on, I scold myself, struggling to calm my soul. She's seen you shirtless before. Then, absurdly, it hits me that, yes, she's seen me without a shirt, and not once did she look at me with desire. A ridiculous feeling of irritation bites at me, and instead of chasing away my own wants, it crams itself in alongside them. It doesn't mean anything to her, does it? One of my brows twitches. Fine then. I'm still staring at her, and she's looking at me with just a touch of curiosity, probably wondering why I'm just standing here, doing nothing. I maintain eye contact as I finally grip the bottom of my t-shirt and slowly peel it up and off. Pretty sure I don't have a shine-on; I wouldn't have dared do this if I thought it would be really indecent. But, fuck, I'm standing here in just my pants in front of the girl I like, the girl I want, and for once she's blushing, and she's looking at me with the strangest expression on her face, like she's never seen me shirtless before, like somehow my body is brand-new to her. I can feel my face growing warm along with the rest of me. I'm blushing now, but I still don't look away. I feel like there's a magnetic current pulling at me, trying to drag me across those few empty feet to close the distance between myself and Checkers. What am I doing? This isn't like me. This is nuts! I can still feel her warm skin at the tip of my finger. Checkers reaches out and slowly draws the shirt from my hand, still staring into my eyes, and I have this crazy impulse to not let it go, just to see if I can prolong this strange, silent moment.

I let the shirt slip through my fingers.

My feelings are nuts, but I'm not. Not yet, anyway.

"thanks," I tell her. My voice is a little hoarse.

"Go get a shirt," she tells me, and finally averts her eyes. "It's cold out there."

"yeah," I concur, and head for the stairs. I deliberately don't mention that the room feels hot as hell right now. Shit. Maybe a cold shower will put things back into perspective.

* * * * *

I wasn't kidding about the shower: I ran the water so cold, and stood under it so long, that my bones are rattling now. I try to fight the waves of shivers that are swarming outward from my core as I pull on a nice, warm sweatshirt. So warm. I shiver again, and clutch at the front of the sweatshirt as if I can hold the heat in. Man. Maybe that wasn't so good for me.

I head downstairs and am met with Checkers coming up, carrying a couple mugs of hot chocolate and balancing a plate of warm brownies on the crook of her arm. I take the brownies from her, carefully, so as not to disrupt the equilibrium of the fragile system.

"pure talent," I comment, grinning. A shiver tries to force its way out. I ruthlessly clamp it down. Last thing I need is Checkers asking why I'm so cold.

"Waitress-style," she responds, giving me that beautiful smile. Then she looks at my sweater and laughs. I glance down. Oh, hey, it's the skeleton sweatshirt she gave me for Christmas. Heh. I look back up at her, grinning. She shakes her wrist a little, and a gold chain falls out of her sleeve. I chuckle. She's wearing the charm bracelet. We take a moment to smile goofily at each other. Then Checkers shrugs and says, "If you're done up here, we should go join the others."

"'kay." We head down to the living room, where Paps and Roxy're starting a movie. "what're we watching?" I ask them, and liberate my hot chocolate from Checkers. She uses her newly-freed hand to get a brownie from the plate I'm carrying. I sip from my mug, and am startled at the heat of the drink. I can feel a trickle of powerful warmth tracing the contours of my bones as the molecules turn to magic and flow through me, but the contrast shows me just how cold I really am. This time, I can't suppress a shiver. Luckily, nobody notices.

"The Thief and the Cobbler," Roxy tells me cheerfully from her spot on the couch. "Be warned, it's an unfinished thing. A lot of it didn't get animated, so they plugged in concept drawings instead. But it's amazing! You gotta see it!"

"Oh, yeah," Checkers says, as if remembering something. "You had a big crush on Tack, huh?" Roxy giggles. Checkers continues, "Come to think of it, your current boyfriend's the silent type, too. Maybe you have a thing for quiet guys."

Roxy scowls. "Hush, you. It's not a thing; it's a condition."

I plunk myself down on the couch as the girls dissolve into giggles, and after a moment, Checkers squeezes in between Rox and me. As Paps hits the lights to give this a "night at the movies" feel, I catch Checkers shooting me a worried glance. Her leg is pressed to mine, and she feels so much warmer than usual. She leans over and whispers, so quietly that I doubt Roxy even notices, "Are you okay? You feel cold."

"'m fine," I whisper back. "don't worry 'bout it." I feel a creeping guilt taint my enjoyment of Checkers's touch. I'm a terrible friend and I'm ashamed of myself. Especially after that... whatever that was with the shirt. Seduction for the Romantically Inept. God, what was I thinking? Selfish, stupid asshole. We can't even... You know what? The physical stuff isn't even the worst part. Even if I could give her what a human mate could, the shirt thing was a terrible idea. What if... what if I'd gotten what I... what I wanted? What then? God, I've got nothing to offer her. Nothing. Nothing but a short-lived miserable relationship with a short miserable guy who'll make her miserable, too. And maybe bring some stigma to the table. What would it be like for her, out there in the wider world, if she was dating a monster? She deserves to be happy. Shit, if she does like me back... I'm treading on very thin ice, here. I'm not as dumb as I look. I've noticed that I have control problems when she's around. If we start something... (my soul clenches and throbs in a wordless yes I can't suppress) ... If we start something, I could bond with her. Accidentally. Then she'd never be free of me.

Assuming she can bond.

Oh goddammit, I just fuckin' confused myself. There's something I'll never know how to feel about.

Anyway.

That shirt thing. I hate myself for that shirt thing.

When I got into that freezing shower, so cold it was downright painful, I welcomed it as if the discomfort could negate the wrong I'd just done. I stayed in it until I started to go numb. Didn't get out 'till the suffering stopped, suggesting the real point of the exercise was to punish myself. Stupid. Maybe this persistent chill is divine retribution for being the world's biggest asshole.

Well, whatever I've done to myself, I'm sure some warm sweet things and cozy couch time will fix it. I sip my cocoa again as if I can force that to be true.

Checkers takes my cold hand in her warm one and leans against me, lending me her heat. Pleasure and guilt fight inside me like a couple'a angry dogs. I shiver again. Then I sneeze.

"shit! what the hell?" bursts out of my mouth before I can stop it. While not entirely unpleasant, that was all kinds of alarming. Everyone's turned to look at me. I sneeze again.

"I THOUGHT ONLY HUMANS DID THAT," Paps says curiously.

"obviously not," I grump. My throat is starting to get this strange gluey sort of feeling, and now my body can't seem to decide whether it's cold (from the chill at its core) or hot (probably due to the room's temperature being so much higher than mine). "y'know what?" I say, and pull my hand away from Checkers's as I stand up. I ruffle her hair a little to take any rejection out of the gesture. She slaps at my hand. I grin. "this is a sleepy sorta day," I continue, glancing out the window. It's midday, but the storm clouds are so thick it looks almost like evening. Snow is blowing almost sideways in the wind that's whipped up, and damn if it doesn't actually make me tired. "i'm'a take a nap," I finish, and head for the stairs.

"Oh, okay," I hear behind me, and the disappointment in Checkers's voice is almost enough to make me turn around and go back. Instead, I turn just long enough to give her a grin and finger guns, and then head up the stairs.

Don't wanna worry anyone. I'm sure it's nothing. Just gotta hide out 'till everything's back to normal.

As my door clicks shut behind me, I stifle another sneeze with the sleeve of my hoodie. Ugh. Sneezing ain't that bad, but I can tell it'll get old real fast.

I bury myself in a pile of blankets and try to leave the world behind.

You

It's still pretty gloomy outside, and the snow is still falling in heavy bursts, but Papyrus and Roxy clearly couldn't resist the opportunity, so after the movie, the three of you came outside to play in the snow. It's getting really deep; there are drifts that are almost up to your knees already. The streets are silent and empty, but the lights in all the houses are on, so you don't feel as alone out here as you might have otherwise. The strange twilit ambiance and the soft "shh" sound of the falling snow are really, and you hate yourself for thinking this, pretty "cool."

If Sans was here, you'd share the pun. Ah, well, he'd probably have beat you to it, anyway.

You've got to admit you're enjoying this. Papyrus and Roxy are working on a snowman that, for reasons only they understand, looks like Papyrus but with bulging snow "muscles." Roxy's happy giggles and Papyrus's loud NYEH-HEH-HEHs entertain you as you walk around the yard quietly, putting footprints into the pristine snow with both deliberation and satisfaction. The temperature is just barely high enough to help the snow stick together: the snow-Papyrus your friends are working on is looking surprisingly good, but on the downside, you're all developing a frosty buildup on heads and shoulders that's starting to make you feel a little heavy and damp. No matter how much snow you get tonight, it won't last more than a few days if the temperature doesn't drop.

You reach a large patch of untouched snow and flop onto your back in it. You lie there peacefully for a moment, letting the large flakes of snow speckle your face and melt into chilly rivulets that run down your cheeks.

You make a snow angel.

Then you lie in it listlessly, missing Sans.

Miss him? That's crazy. I just saw him! you scold yourself. You'd invite him to come outside with the rest of the group, but you're a little worried about him, and you don't want to disturb his rest.

"Y/N! Y/N! COME SEE WHAT WE MADE!" Papyrus's excited shout, followed by Roxy's enthusiastic, "We sure did make that!" brings your attention back to the moment at hand. You sit up from your snow angel to give them your attention.

They've made not only a muscly Papyrus, but a muscly Sans, a muscly Roxy, and a muscly you, as well. Wow, they're fast. And pretty talented, too.

"Why are we so buff?" you have to ask.

"BECAUSE IT IS BEST TO BE BUFF, AND WE ARE THE BEST!" Papyrus enthuses. Then he flexes for you, as if he's forgotten he doesn't actually have muscles. Roxy laughs and flexes, too. You chuckle.

"Let's go in," you suggest. "It's getting colder."

As the three of you enter the living room, shaking snow off your coats, you hear a faint, muffled sneeze from Sans's room. Unconsciously, your hand lifts to your chest, as if you can still the anxious flutter of your heart. He seemed all right when he went to his room, but you can't help worrying, all the same. If sneezing isn't normal for monsters, is something happening to him? Is he getting sick? Should you bother him, or let him rest? He'd tell you if he needed help, right?

... No. No he wouldn't.

As Papyrus and Roxy head to the kitchen to warm some more hot cocoa, you take the stairs to the upper floor and head down the short hall to Sans's room. You knock gently.

"Knock knock," you add, a little late.

In the room, you hear the rustling of blankets. "who's there?" The voice is a little off, somehow, rough and tired, but not in that "just woken up" way that you've grown accustomed to.

"Icy."

"icy who?"

You crack the door open and pop your head inside. "Icy you're too lazy to answer the door."

Sans snickers and pulls the blankets down so he can see you. He's piled on several comforters, but his face is a little drawn and his normal clean ivory coloring has given way to an unhealthy paper-white pallor.

"Are you still cold?" you ask, coming into the room. He opens his mouth to respond, but answers instead with a sneeze. You feel his forehead, and then place your other hand on the side of his face in alarm. "You're like ice! Sans, are you sick?"

"not sure. maybe," he answers. "never been sick before. it'll be a new sick-sperience."

You groan. "Well, you can't be that bad-off, if you're making jokes like that one." Sans chuckles, and then shivers. He pulls the covers up to his ear-holes.

"'m sure it'll work itself out," he says casually. "gonna try 'n' sleep it off."

"I don't like how cold you are," you tell him frankly. "Sometimes humans get fevers when they're sick, and..." Catching Sans's curious look, you interrupt yourself with, "We get too hot."

His brows raise in interest, and he lets out a short, involuntary "hmm."

"Anyway, letting a fever go uncared-for can really hurt us, even kill us," you finish. "If your chill is the same way... Well, we have to try and get your body temperature back to normal."

"good luck with that," Sans tells you. "i don't even know why it's so low in the first place."

You touch his forehead again, and shiver in sympathy. No. This is unacceptable. You're not going to let him brush this off, and you're not going to let a lack of knowledge stand in your way. By god, you think to yourself as you head for the door, throwing a "Be right back," over your shoulder, I'm going to help, or die trying.

Sans

I have to chuckle again at the determination in Checkers's face as she practically storms out of the room.

Oh, man, chuckling kinda hurts.

My throat hurts.

So does my head.

Everything kinda hurts, to tell the truth.

And having Checkers here helped, weirdly, even though I didn't wanna worry her in the first place.

She comes back in a few with a hot mug of tea, intent on making me drink it. "checkers, you don't gotta..." I start, trying to fend her off with one hand while I pull the blankets to my chin with the other.

"Hush, you," she says back, and sits on the edge of my bed. She presses the mug into my hand.

"i prefer coffee," I mutter, a bit grumpy from being babied. I take a sip of the tea. Surprisingly, it does help. It's sweet and soothing, weirdly warm and cool at the same time, and almost instantly my throat feels a little better.

"Caffeine'll dry you out. This is mint tea with honey. It's good for colds."

"hmm." I take another sip. The heat from the drink is pouring into me in a way the hot chocolate from before didn't. It's too soon to feel hopeful, but I at least feel a little less chilled. "is colds a human sickness?" Sure sounds like what I've got.

"Yeah, though strangely they usually involve a fever, so we're too hot during the cold."

Ah, it's plural. I feel dumber than usual. But, uh, whoever named "colds" might be even dumber than me.

I finish the tea while Checkers keeps me company. She does most of the talking on account of I don't have any energy. When she tells me Paps gave us all snow doppelgängers, I'm not surprised, but when she adds that he also gave us all bulging muscles, I laugh so hard I choke on my tea. When I recover, I have to ask, "did he make me any taller?"

Checkers laughs. "Nope. He seemed to think the only things we need to be perfect are more muscles."

"nice to hear i'm practically perfect, anyway." I shrug and finish my tea. Checkers feels my forehead again as she takes the mug back with her other hand.

"Still cold," she says worriedly, and looks at me like I might know what to do next.

I shrug. "don't look at me. i'm the only monster i know that's been sick." Then I sneeze again. Goddammit, that hurts too, now. I think I do feel a little less chilled after the tea, anyway. Though that could just be 'cause Checkers made it.

'Cause... Checkers...

Oh goddammit.

Toriel's voice echoes in my ears, a shadow of something she said at her New Year's Eve party. It is the malice that hurts us, really. That shower. I took that shower to punish myself. I wanted to hurt.

It wasn't the shower that did this. It was my feelings about myself.

How in the world am I supposed to fix THAT?

Checkers's face has tightened a little, and as I watch, a tear escapes her eye and trickles down her cheek. "hey," I say, concerned. "what's all that about?" My acknowledgement allows her to both wipe the tear away and make a bunch more. Guess she hoped I wouldn't notice she was crying.

"Wh-what am I supposed to do?" she asks, wiping her eyes some more. "Sans, what's happening? What if you're dying?" A sob escapes her. I feel like a heel. I didn't just hurt myself with that stupid shower. Looks like I hurt Checkers, too.

I get a little colder. I shiver. Checkers cries some more. "checkers, i'm not dying," I tell her, desperate to make her feel better. The truth is, I don't remember how to like myself, and while I don't think this'll kill me, my soul shrivels as I realize this might not go away. Since Sick Sans is even more miserable than Normal Sans, the thought's fuckin' discouraging.

I reach for Checkers, intending to comfort her, when the door bursts open, slamming against the wall so hard it bounces closed again. "BR-AAH!" Paps is cut off when the door hits him in the face.

"brah?" I ask, grinning. "is 'brother' too many syllables now?"

"WHAT ARE YOU STILL DOING IN BED? YOU HAVE MISSED ALMOST THE ENTIRE SLEEPOVER SO FAR! AND (Y/N), YOU HAVE BEEN UP HERE A LONG TIME! YOU ARE ABOUT TO MISS THE PILLOW FIGHT!"

"No she's not!" Roxy's voice comes from behind Paps, and a throw pillow sails over Paps's shoulder and flops onto the bed near Checkers's knee.

"Missed me," Checkers says, laughing, trying to wipe her tears away before anyone can see them.

"It's hard to aim over Papyrus," Roxy replies, sounding sulky.

"Sans is sick," Checkers announces.

"i'm fine," I say. I sneeze again.

"THAT IS SILLY, (Y/N). MONSTERS DO NOT GET SICK."

"see? monsters don't get...hah-choo! ... sick." Oh for the love of...

Paps squints at me. "BROTHER, YOU DO LOOK UNHEALTHY. DO YOU FEEL UNHEALTHY?" He comes over and gasps. "YOU LOOK AWFUL!" Then he pats my head. "YOU FEEL VERY COLD ALSO! ARE YOU HURT?"

"i'm not hurt, paps, i'm really okay, don't make this into a big deal."

"YOU ARE NOT EVEN PUNNING! THIS IS VERY SERIOUS! I SHALL CALL HER MAJESTY RIGHT AWAY!"

Alarm shoots through me at the possibility of Paps convincing Tori to come out in a snowstorm. I could always go pick her up, but this whole thing is fuckin' embarrassing, and really, I don't want her here. Besides, I have to admit to myself, my magic feels a little funky right now. It might be unpredictable. It might not even work. There's a distinct possibility that all my energy is going towards trying to heal myself. I groan. "paps, don't. seriously."

He must hear the warning in my voice, 'cause he relents, a little sulkily. "HER MAJESTY WOULD WANT TO HELP."

"her majesty can't get here right now," I reply irritably.

Paps huffs. "I AM ONLY TRYING TO HELP. YOU ARE BEING VERY UNGRATEFUL."

Remorse stabs at me, and I feel my body temperature plummet. "s-sorry, paps, i'm j-just being a grump." I've started to shiver, and this time, it's not stopping. For the first time, I start to feel afraid. What if this can kill me? And, you know, what if this time it's permanent?

Checkers shoots an anxious look at Roxy, who's peeking out from behind Paps, looking worried. "Rox, you okay over there? Think you can enjoy the sleepover without me for a while?"

"Yeah, of course," Roxy says, and grabs Paps by the hand. "Let's go have that pillow fight. It's a sleepover! Entertain me!" By the look on Rox's face, Checkers has given her some sort of signal. Give Sans some space, or something like that.

"BUT I AM WORRIED ABOUT MY BROTHER!"

"i'll be fine, paps," I reassure him. "humans get sick all the time, and then they get better, right? remember when (y/n) threw up in the trash can?" Checkers winces.

"OH, YES, THAT WAS DISGUSTING AND FASCINATING! AND I SUPPOSE SHE DID GET BETTER. AND I WOULD BE A POOR HOST IF I LEFT FRIEND ROXY TO ENTERTAIN HERSELF SO I COULD SPEND THE EVENING WATCHING SANS REGURGITATE." Then he looks at me curiously like he thinks it might happen. He knows we don't do that, so I'm not sure what he's hoping for. 'Course, I remind myself, he also knows we don't get sick, and look at me now.

Paps reluctantly follows Roxy when she leaves. I hear him suggesting "get well spaghetti" as the door shuts behind him. Checkers turns back to me.

"You know something about this," she accuses.

I've been trying so hard not to lie to her recently, 'cause 1) she deserves the truth from me after all she's done for me, and 2) she's weirdly adept at seeing right through me. If I tell her I don't know what's happening, she'll somehow know that I know I'm a big fat fibber. I try a shrug.

Checkers narrows her eyes at me.

Eh, whatever. I'm too miserable right now to fight her on this. I feel a humiliated blush rising on my face as I force the words out: "i don't like myself very much." My voice is so low even I can barely hear it.

Checkers blinks. "That... uhh... that kinda came out of nowhere." I look away from her, towards the wall, trying to hide my shame. Why am I so weak? "I mean, I know you don't feel good about yourself," Checkers continues, and I have to look back at her in surprise. Then a little huff of laughter puffs out of me. Heh. Yeah, of course she knew. "I don't see what that has to do with you being sick, though," she finishes.

"self-malice," I say in almost a whisper. "i think i hurt myself by hating myself." No way am I telling her about the trigger for all this, that goddamn shower. That would mean admitting I... well. That I want to take her to bed, put my hands all over her, and basically beg her to sit on my face and/or any number of ridiculous humiliating things. No fuckin' way. I'll take it to my grave.

I expect Checkers to come up with some banal thing like, Well, you just have to start liking yourself 'cause you're so very, very likable, or something else useless like that. If I could start liking myself just by trying, I'd have done it a long time ago. I glance up at her, bracing myself for the awful feeling of desolate isolation that comes from receiving that peculiar combination of pity and lack of understanding. When the people closest to you just can't understand, but they still think they do, well, nothing makes you lonelier.

Checkers leans over and kisses me on the cheek, and her lips are wet with her tears.

... Not what I was expecting. She's... she's crying for me. That's not pity. It's something... more raw. More real. And, "Then I'll have to like you enough for both of us," she says, and kisses me on the other cheek.

Okay, I'm definitely resembling a big toothy tomato right about now. And... I... I feel warmer. I look up and meet her eyes, and she sees my surprise and confusion immediately.

"It's all about intent, right?" Checkers asks, and kisses me on the forehead. And damn if all this isn't starting to chase the chill away. Holy hell, she's figured it out. She's figured out how to fix the dumbass thing I did: she's fighting hate with love.

How'm'I supposed to respond to this?

"you don't haveta..." I start, trying to pull up the blankets to cover my face. I'm starting to feel mildly panicked. Checkers smirks playfully, grabs one of my hands, and kisses it.

"You're the smartest person I know," she says as she drops it. She reaches for my other hand and I try to jerk it away, but my reflexes are shit right now and it gets tangled in the wads of plush comforter. Checkers lays one on me, right on the knuckle.

"You know how to make me laugh," she says, and I expect her to drop this hand, too, but when I try to pull it away, she hangs on. She turns it over and kisses the cupped center of it. "People are always comfortable around you. That's an amazing talent." I give up the fight and collapse back onto my pillow, trying to look annoyed and resigned but feeling incredibly flustered, yet warmer than I've been for hours. I suppress a smile at the thought, not wanting Checkers to think I'm enjoying this at all, even though I think she probably knows my attitude is bullshit. I just keep thinking, magic kisses, and struggling not to chuckle. Or kiss her back. One of those. Checkers picks up my other hand and starts alternating between the two, and now each kiss comes with a compliment and I can't look at her anymore, I can't cope with all this, I just can't. Something huge and overwhelming is moving in me, and I don't know how to deal with it.

Kiss. "You have a great voice."

Kiss. "And a beautiful smile."

"You always think of others first."

"I love spending time with you. We share so many interests."

"You're the best at Mario Kart. Don't laugh, it matters."

"You're so deeply kind. It's... it's humbling. It really is."

When did I start crying? My blush has faded, and my face is wet with tears, and I'm laughing a little, too, as Checkers leans over me and kisses the protrusion of bone just above my nasal cavity. I choke on my laughter as my perspective shifts suddenly and I realize how close she is to me, physically and emotionally, and she pulls back a little and looks into my eyes with that knowing, mischievous smile, and I suddenly think, I love her, and I know it's true. God, I do. I love her. I love her so much. I squeeze my eyes shut as my face crumples, tears flowing freely now.

Checkers lays down beside me and kisses my cheek once more. "How do you feel?" she asks gently.

Weak. Desperate. Raw. Full of love. More honest than usual. But not that honest.

"warmer," I tell her. It's the truth. And it's good enough, for now.

~ Author's Note ~

I know I said I was taking a break, but I've decided I really don't like that last chapter, and I didn't want to leave the story on that note, so here's the next chapter, and I'm starting my short hiatus NOW. Yes. RIGHT NOW. See y'all in February and I'm serious this time. Probably.