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You'd been having a good day.
The dishes were done and put away, you were all caught up on bills, and Sans had even picked his socks up off the floor - after only two reprimands! He was away at work right now, so you'd decided to straighten up the house before he got back. Humming a nameless melody, you gathered clothing into a hamper and began to drag it to the laundry room, intent on washing the blue jacket your boyfriend never seemed to want to take off. You'd finally convinced him to leave it home today, since it was the middle of summer and in the high 90s.
Once done loading the washer, you stepped back into the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of water when the window shattered.
All at once, you were thrown back in time. Flashes of a broken table and blood entered your vision, startling you into dropping your glass. The sound of it cracking apart on impact was muted in your ears, feeling like your head was stuffed in cotton as you tried in vain to focus on the world around you. Distantly, you could feel phantom pain shooting up your back and knew you were hyperventilating.
Calm down thought the rational part of your brain, but your body didn't want to listen. You felt so stupid and so startled at the same time, emotions astrew. The window broke, so what? It was probably the neighbor’s kid, cool it.
You closed your eyes and leaned against the counter, focusing on the chilly, spilled water at your feet and the sounds of a dog barking down the block. You felt the linoleum under your fingers, slightly worn and abrasive against your skin, and could still taste some of the cereal you ate for breakfast on your tongue. Close by, and now more audible thanks to the newly shattered window, you could hear Jeremy, the neighbor kid, being reprimanded by his mother and told to knock on your door to apologize.
You opened your eyes and forced a harsh breath through your mouth. Reality was solidly around you, but your heart was still racing a mile a minute. Why were you incapable of being calm over a stupid, broken window? This was so, so dumb, and your mind was screaming at you take a chill pill and get over it already.
On the floor, you spotted a football and shook your head, carefully plucking it up and walking around the glass shards to the front door. Shakily, you opened the door to see Jeremy staring up at you, appearing to be seconds away from tears.
Heh. Makes two of us, buddy, you thought bitterly, holding up the football with trembling fingers. You blew a strand of hair out of your face before speaking. “This yours, man?”
“Y-yeah.” He sniffled, shoulders hunched and eyes downcast. “I’m s-sorry I broke your w-window, Ms. _____.”
You shrugged, the moment jerky and radiating impatience. This kid needed to leave before you started crying right in front of him. Seeing him looking upset was making you more upset, and that wasn't good.
“I accept your apology.” You managed to say in a steady tone. “But I'm keeping the football, kay? This is the second time you've damaged part of my property.” You could strongly recall the time he demolished part of your garden when his 4-wheeler went rogue. Sans wasn't happy to learn that it'd almost flattened you, too, because you’d been distractedly blasting music in your ears and hadn’t heard the vehicle. “I'll send the cost of the repairs to your mom.”
Oh no, that might've been the wrong thing to say, because Jeremy started sobbing. You'd never seen a twelve-year-old break down like this, and right on your front porch, no less. He began to wail, which made you flinch.
Another flash. More wailing, but distant; you recognized it as your own. You'd been struck, again, and the sound of shattering glass echoed in your memory.
Tears started falling down your face when the flashback receded, and you shoved the football into Jeremy’s hands. “H-hey, don’t...don’t… Stop crying! I-I’m sorry!” You stammered, barely catching a glimpse of his startled face before you slammed the door in it. The sound made you flinch, and you stumbled away from it with a sob and ran to your bedroom.
God, you felt like an idiot. You scrambled under the covers of the bed and allowed yourself to finally break down. Harsh, ugly wails left your throat, leaving you feeling incompetent and gross. For a good twenty minutes you threw a mini tantrum, banging your fists on the mattress and shouting your feelings away, angry at yourself and the football and Jeremy and the window. You knew Sans would be disgusted if he walked in on you looking like this.
“...babe?”
...Well. Speak of the goddamn devil.
You tried to stifle your sobs, but that ended up being a bad idea and you choked on oxygen, coughing and sobbing and shaking like the pathetic whelp you were. That was you; _____, the stupid girl that couldn't handle loud bangs or glass breaking lest she throw a fit! Sans’ footsteps hurried toward the bedroom and you curled in on yourself.
You were so angry at your behavior. A broken window had triggered a panic attack and now you couldn't stop it. You were so weak. You were awful. You were -
“Baby,” Sans gasped, and you felt him begin to push the covers aside. “Baby, what happened!? There's broken glass all over the floor in the kitchen, are you okay!?”
Ah, hell, you'd forgotten to clean up the glass. Add that to the list of reasons you're the worst girlfriend on the planet. Why was Sans even with you? You couldn't do anything right! Stupid, stupid, stupid-
“Sweetheart, please,” Sans said, trying to coax the sheets away from your vice-like grip. “You're gonna throw up on yourself if you keep going. Sit up for me.”
Weakly you pushed at Sans’ hands. “G-g-go aw-” you began, before a harsh cough lead to you almost vomiting into the pillow. Two, boney arms wrapped around your waist and turned you onto your stomach. The bed dipped with Sans’ weight as he climbed in and he lifted you into a sitting position, your back snugly against his.
“Babe, calm down.” He cooed, voice soft. He slowly began rocking the two of you side to side and rubbing your belly, and his soothing motions made you feel bad all over again.
Sans was so good to you. You didn't deserve a boyfriend as nice as him. You didn't deserve anything.
“S-San-” you choked, palming your eyes. You knew your face was red and blotchy from the crying; hell, you'd probably broken a blood vessel. Weakly you tried to break out of his hold, but he just hugged you closer.
“Don't force me away.” He said. “Just breathe. It's okay.”
It wasn't okay. There was glass and water all over the kitchen floor that needed cleaned and you'd made the neighbor kid cry and you were having a panic attack and you couldn't breathe and you couldn’t do anything right and -
…
And…
And Sans was pinching your stomach.
“Hey.” The skeleton mumbled. His voice sounded a million miles away but you knew he was right behind you. “Come back to me. You're hyperventilating.”
Yes, thanks for noting the obvious, you thought. He was still pinching you, in other places now, and it was beginning to get on your nerves. His fingers moved over yours, pinching the knuckles and spaces between, then he did it to your sides and what he could reach of your legs.
Too annoyed by his antics - couldn't he take anything seriously? - you hadn't noticed the way your tears began to decrease and your breathing slowed down. He was cleverly giving you something else to focus on in an effort to calm you.
Sans, despite his size, was stronger than he looked. You swatted at his hands as he pinched your butt and tried to shimmy away, but he held fast to you and kept you in place. Soon pinching turned into tickles, and the last of your sobs and whimpers were quickly replaced by shrieking and involuntary laughter.
“Sans!” You cried, thrashing as his phalanges brushed over your thighs and under your shirt and in your armpits. The sounds of his laughter reached your ears, clear and right next to your head, and you tried to shake him off in vain. “Un-unkle! I give! S-Sans, please!”
Fortunately, the monster relented and withdrew his hands, letting you slump into the pillows with breathless laughter coming out of your mouth. You shot him a glare with no conviction behind it and rubbed your eyes, crusty and irritated from crying so hard.
“Don't glare at me.” Sans grinned, lying down next to you. Despite the expression, his eye lights were dim, looking strained. He reached over and took your hand, threading fingers with phalanges and gently stroking your skin with his thumb. “...are you okay?”
You blinked, still feeling a little wound up, but you were much better. “I will be.” You murmured, throat sore from sobbing. “I'm sorry -”
“There's nothing to forgive.” He said quickly. “I just want to know if you're okay, babe.”
You nodded slowly and he seemed to relax, drawing you close for a hug. Sans didn't have a heartbeat for you to listen to as you placed your head on his chest, but his soul gave off a soothing hum that often soothed you, like it was doing now.
“Can you tell me what happened?” He asked, rubbing small circles in your back. His tone was carefully controlled, letting you know it was your choice to answer. “This was a bad one today...did you have flashbacks?”
You nodded, releasing a shaky sigh. Taking time to gather your words, you fiddled with his jacket. He smelled like the labs he worked with Alphys in.
“The neighbor kid…”
“Jeremy?”
You nodded, slowly giving him a recap as to what’d gone on. You had to stop twice to breathe, still able to remember how loud the sound of the shattering glass was barely an hour ago. Echoes of your anxiety reverberated in your body like muscle memory, and you trembled in Sans’ arms. The skeleton continued to rub your back and murmur soothing words into your hair, kissing the top of your head, and when you were finished, he released a soft breath that tickled your skin and made his ribcage move under your head.
“Did you get cut?” He asked. He saw the confusion on your face and elaborated. “The broken glass...you're not wearing socks or shoes. Did you get cut?”
Oh. “No.” You said, and slowly sat up. “I need to clean it up -”
“No.” Sans said, sitting up and grasping your hand. “You're going to take a nap, and I'm gonna clean the glass.”
You frowned. “Sans -”
“Non-negotiable.” Said the monster. “Let me take care of it, _____. I just want you to relax for a little bit.”
“I can't.” You said, realizing the truth in your words. You still had so much to do; the glass needed cleaned, and you had to call around for a window repairman, and you had work tomorrow, and the electric bill came in the mail today and you hadn't even made dinner yet and you had to finish prep for Papyrus’ birthday in two weeks and -
Sans leaned over and cupped the nape of your neck, forcing you to still as his mouth connected to yours in a kiss and effectively silencing your thoughts. He opened his jaw and coaxed your lips apart, engaging in a small game of tonsil hockey that left you flushed and breathless.
He looked smug as he pulled away from you, one blue iris glowing in his left socket. It dissipated along with his tongue soon after and he winked at you before climbing out of bed.
“I got it.” He promised. “I've got you. I've always got you, _____.”
Your expression softened. You knew. The rational part of your brain always knew, but after what you’d dealt with before it was still hard to believe someone really, actually cared about you this much. The genuine adoration the monster held for you was both frightening and cathartic. Love that wasn't full of fists and shouting matches existed, and you were seeing that for yourself, now.
“I love you.” You murmured, choking up for a different reason. Sans grinned and kissed your cheek.
“I love you, too. Get some rest, I mean it.” He said, nudging you to lie down and pulling the blanket up to your chin. He gave you one last peck before leaving the room, telling you to call for him if you needed something.
You laid there, in the bed you shared with your skeleton boyfriend, in the house you shared with your skeleton boyfriend, and smiled exhaustively. Everything you'd been freaked out about earlier seemed insignificant with a clear mind. You wished you could be as level-headed as Sans sometimes… You were so thankful he was a part of your life.
Soon, your eyes grew heavy and sleep began to close in on you. Thoughts of your previous partner, of previous traumas, were banished by the love and security Sans gave you every day, and you dreamed of happier things.