Chapter Text
He rubs the glass carefully, swing music flowing through the bar. Dimmed lights hanging carefully from the ceiling. Cushions with heads resting securely and bottoms that seem sewn into the seats. Wood that’s scratched and scuffed, but still retains that attractive color. Patrons laughing and getting drunk, everyone enjoying themselves. Casual banter filling the air with chatter that carries outside into the night. Sans sitting at the bar drinking his mind away and cracking puns left and right. The usual drunken bunny calling for another shot. The dogs sitting at their table playing cards. And by the sounds of it, Dogressa is winning. The crackles and pops of a wood fire that he hardly hears anymore. The smell of high quality and low-quality drinks. The smell of the food he prepares for each person separately. The soft pitter-patter of feet outside the bar. The cars driving by with their headlights too bright for the fog covering the ground.
He sighs carefully, setting down the glass in the shelves beneath the bar counter. It clinks softly, just a small shift in environment and he remembers offhandedly that the glass just happens to be “yours”. He adjusts so he’s standing slightly straighter. Then looks over his crowd of customers, checking briefly for you - even though it’s foolish, he knows you aren’t there. It doesn’t seem as though anyone needs him. So he heads into the kitchen, just for a moment - just to relax.
After all, when his soul hums so beautifully in tune with yours, even though you’re not by his side. You occupy his soul so much so that even the most mind-numbing situation can set him off on a path of thinking. Thinking thoughts he would never expect himself to think.
He thinks of you.
You and your bright smile. Your charming laugh. Your hair as you brush it away from your face. Your patience with his silence, and your willingness to understand his body language. Your vibrant soul makes everything seem to be colored in rose. Your stuttering steps when dancing with him alone. Your hands that fit so perfectly within his. The gentle ways you show your thanks. The way you can bring the entire bar to life just by walking in. And by stars, your eyes. Your absolutely stunning eyes make even the stars seem dull and lifeless.
He pauses, resting his hand over his soul. He exhales with a soft smile, you don’t even cause him to feel nervous. He knows you feel the same, he knows… So he doesn’t rush, and he doesn’t worry. He thinks only of you and everything he adores about you. He closes his eyes and sighs. He drops his hand from his chest and shifts his foot, before looking over his shoulder at the window. The stars giggle and dance, their dresses shifting the world. And he knows everything is right and that everything is okay.
He feels you before he sees you. He reaches down and pulls out your glass, starting to prepare your usual. A milkshake with more malt than suggested. The door chimes and he glances up, his soul deciding to melt at that moment. You’re wearing the jacket he bought for you with the red shirt that compliments the bar. You’re put together perfectly and simply. Your hair falls into your eyes, as always, and your shoulders are relaxed. You look so at peace, so comfortable, as your eyes drift over the bar. As your attention is brought to the full bar and then as your eyes follow your thought process. He quickly walks over to the table as you sit down. He sets down the milkshake and leans over you a bit.
What are you doing here so late?
You look up quickly, eyes almost seeming to be a fire in their own right. Your subtle face when you see him, from a Mona Lisa smile to a shy one is calming. Comforting and makes him feel as though he’s going to melt if you end up grinning at him tonight.
“Hi,” your voice is honey: sweet, thick with sleep, warm, smooth, and addicting. He could just sit down in front of you and listen to you talk all night, he muses for a moment. He smiles at the thought, watching as you work your mouth in a little ‘o’.
“Couldn’t sleep, that’s all!” you hurry to remedy. He nods in acknowledgment, you’ve come in later and later this week. Claiming to be unable to sleep each time. His soul thumps, he knows… he knows and he accepts it. It was gonna happen, whether he wants it or not, he does, and you both might as well let it bloom naturally. He scuffs his shoes on the floor, shoe getting caught for a moment before he’s off to the bar again. Finally mixing that drink for Petunia. He glances at you for a final moment, when he sees your eyes fixed surely on him he smiles.
He pauses as Sans grins that “special” grin of his. That knowing grin, that grin that makes him shudder. Sans leans forward on his palm, closing his eyes.
“How it’s going with the two of you? Smooth sailing?” Sans pauses as he opens his eyes and then scoffs, “Don’t give me that look. I mean that in the nicest way possible.”
I don’t know what you’re getting at.
“You still haven’t said anything to Red?”
Humans don’t feel souls like we do, I want her to start it. I don’t want to rush it. He looks to the side, resuming his task of putting the liquors away - trying to his white lie.
“You’re too nice, Grillbz. Well good luck and good night,” Sans mutters and snaps his fingers. Blue light coming from him for a brief second and then he’s gone.
He sighs and shakes his head. Wiping his hands on a cloth needlessly before walking over to his sign to flip it over. He looks over to you and sits down. His soul humming happily. A warm feeling, like he just had a shot. It’s sharp and comforting. He wants more of it as he rests his arms on the table. Fingers stretched out as he stares into your eyes. You’re so open in a single moment. And he’s given just a piece of the love you feel for him. And the love he feels for you. The moments where you’ve walked in and just started talking with him.
The moment his soul started burning for your presence. The moment you invited him to game night with your friends. The moment you shared your favorite book series with him. All the cherished moments. He decides to not linger on them. He wants to be here, in this moment with you. You’re here and that’s all he’s ever wanted. You’re here, your heart and soul here for him to feel and hear. It’s perfect and it’s okay. He’s okay with this. This peaceful recognition of everything and nothing at the same time.
“How’s your day been?” you ask him as your milkshake straw trails your lips. He blinks a few times, slightly distracted. You’re unfair. Very unfair, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Busy,” he mumbles. You shudder and relax at his voice, biting at your bottom lip. He smiles, he can do that to you. He can make you relax and feel like you’re the only one in the room with just his voice. He does that to you. And you do that him. It’s a balance of power of each other. That balanced power and relationship. It’s real and peaceful.
It’s a welcomed feeling: love.
You nod slightly, your eyes closing briefly. He watches as you lean forward, pushing the chair back so you’re comfortable. Your arms and hood fluff cushion your head as you rest near his hands. Touching. You stare at him. And he feels it.
The bright orbs that look so deep and powerful. Flames flickering within the depths, the patterns in your eyes like an ocean pulling him under. The lighting pushing everything to its limits. Your eyes warm and soothing. Colorful, almost as if your soul resides in your eyes - and with it your emotions. Acceptance and love. The pull of your soul finally gets him and he gives in. Letting you show him everything.
Years of love and affection. The tenderness of it all catches him off guard. The way you’ve been feeling this even longer than him, the fact you’ve known for seeming ever that it’s okay. That you love him and that you’ve loved him. He feels your yearning and peace. He feels your adoration. You pull him under and then smile. He knows, and it’s okay.
He brushes back some hair in your face, clearing the view to your eyes. Swimming back to the shore, back to the present. Back to where he can see you. And you’re glowing in the dimmed bar. He can’t explain it, nor does he want to. You’re you. That’s all that’s needed.
I love you…
So he leans forward, hand cupping your cheek. He sees you close your eyes with him as he feels you lean towards him. He pauses but a moment from your face. Breath brushing over his face, your cheek warm in his hand, soft hair falling to curtain his hand, your hand cupping his face… he takes it all in.
And closes the gap.