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It hits Sans hard enough sometimes to cut through his apathy. It makes the sunbeams that cut across Toriel’s carpet brighter, their edges sharper. It makes the scent of Toriel’s cooling pie a bit fresher, a little stronger.
It is at once liberating and suffocating, and he forces himself to stay calm as he plods to the living room. He’s careful to avoid the squeaking floorboard, picking his feet up so his slippers won’t make muffled scuffing sounds on the carpet. He leans against the doorframe before taking a deep breath and dares glance in.
Every bone of his being relaxes when he sees Toriel sitting cross-legged on the carpet, her profile silhouetted by the sun, papers scattered in front of her and a clipboard propped in her lap. She chews the end of her pen, eyes narrowing in concentration as she reaches down and makes a single, quick mark.
Sans pads across the carpet, still quiet, chuckling at her jolt as he wraps his arms around her neck.“heh. scare you?”
“Sans, I - I did not hear you come in. You startled me!”
“no problem. i ‘ear’ ya.”
Toriel lifts a hand, muffled snorts escaping her as she places it on his arm. Sans tightens his grip, screwing his eyes shut as he buries his face in her shoulder. She’s soft. Her scent reminds him of a summer meadow.
(and any second now he could wake up in snowdin again, he could go on living his life never realizing what they’d found and built when she stepped beyond the ruins’ doors, he could be trapped in the underground forever telling knock-knock jokes to a pile of dust)
“Sans?”
“...sorry.” He bumps her temple with his forehead before glancing down at the papers. “i...thought of a joke you’d like, but forgot it. can i watch?”
Toriel shoots an askance glance at him, her chuckle a little tense this time, but she doesn’t press. “It is not that thrilling. Just student papers.” But she smiles and moves some of the papers so he can settle in beside her.
He looks up at her profile again, watching as she puts her glasses on and reaches for the next set of papers. Her fur is glossy and smooth in the light, her lips upturned, her eyes half-lidded and content.
(he could lose this at any second, he could--)
“hey.”
“Hmm?”
“i love you. ...you know that, right?”
The words are small and soft. She deserves so much more than words heavy with knowledge that there’s no guarantee they’ll grow old together.
But Toriel pulls him close and presses her smile to his skull in a slow, lingering kiss. And she’s here, and warm, and now--and this, at least, he allows himself to have.