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"I dunno, Tor..." Was what Sans said. He kept his tone mild, tapped his phalanges lightly on his ceramic mug. Once, twice.
Within the mug was the tea he'd taken to drinking when he ended up in Toriel's living room for these late evenings. The tea she remembered that he'd liked. Had started stocking in her house, had started brewing for him when he lingered after the dinners he was more often then not present for, waving the kid to bed and settling in to quiet. Sometimes only leaving to take a shortcut back home and wish Papyrus goodnight, before he was right back to the spot on the couch he had left.
The question she had just posed, he couldn't deny it had been danced around before. The idea of a place for him in Toriel's house that was permanent. Nights in her bed turning to their shared bed, mornings that were a given instead of an occasional. Their orbit had been slow, exceedingly so. It had been, what, six years? Seven years? Since Monsterkind had come to the surface. The fact that Sans was only uncertain by that small degree was a huge mark of progress for him. Though the snow had just melted, Sans having returned from down south a mere two weeks ago. This year, Toriel had joined him for most of it, longer even than Papyrus, for once. And now they were back, and Toriel was asking if he had ever thought about moving in permanently.
Toriel had visited the skeleton brothers' home, of course she had. It was easier for Sans to be the one to make the trip, generally, but that didn't mean that Toriel and many of their other friends didn't enjoy paying the brothers a visit often enough. Papyrus loved to host, so Sans barely had to do anything but enjoy the atmosphere. Sans' room, on the other hand, had never opened its door on an invite, to Toriel, or to anyone, really. Even Papyrus tended to leave the space alone, most of the time. Unless he was seized by a fatal urge to clean house, and put his olecranon grease to work clearing Sans' mess. Most of the time, these days, it wasn't as bad as it had been. But it was still...
Sans tried to soften his ever-present grin, meeting Toriel's now-uncertain gaze. Her ruby eyes glimmered in the lowlight, her own mug cradled gently in her paws. She was patient, they both were. It had served them well so far. It was... difficult, for Sans, to do anything but minimize (ironically), and make light of his more permanent problems. Things like his frailty, his memory, his...laziness. Laziness that maybe, possibly, wasn't actually 100% his fault, and was a direct symptom of a combination of an ever-present fatigue and an imbalance in his brain's magic allocation. Or something.
Even though Toriel knew about it, had been there through some of the worst lows, Sans still found it difficult to let her see him in that serious, unenjoyable way. So much of their relationship was making each other laugh, was having fun together. Sans had felt like a parasite for his entire life. He didn't want to drag down something that was so good.
"What about Papyrus?" Is what he finally said.
Toriel bit her lip with a dulled fang. "Well, I have been thinking about it quite a bit! If you truly are...moved by the idea, there are a few things we can do. If... if Papyrus wishes to, we can certainly make room for him in the house as well, though not in our bedroom, of course. If he wants to explore independence, I am sure the two of you could give it some serious discussion." She winked more than once throughout her statement.
Sans had offered Papyrus independent living before, when they had first moved from New Home to Snowdin. The conversation then had been a little back-and-forth, each of them adamant that the other one's preference was stated first. Sans was...pretty sure, that Papyrus liked living together. Though part of him was worried that it was obligation, or concern, that was keeping his brother close to him. Papyrus was in his 30s now, and had been stepping in to caretake for Sans more than frequently over the years, maybe for as long as he had been old enough to. Though Sans was loathe to admit it, he needed the help. Without Papyrus, and, in more recent years, without the extended support network of all of their friends, Sans probably-or almost definitely, wouldn't have made it to today. The reminder of the passing years also put a sudden damper on his thoughts.
Sans was in his mid 40's. He'd have to ask to be certain, but he was reasonably sure he'd be 45 this year. It wasn't too old, in the grand scheme of things, and Tori certainly had him beat in that regard. But Sans was tired, like he always had been, and knew, somewhere, that even if he had all the will in the world, he was much closer to the end of his life than to the beginning.
"You're right, he's the best. I'm sure he'll be packed with excitement no matter what happens. And I'll make sure his options are well-delivered." Sans grinned as Toriel began to giggle and snort, trying unsuccessfully to hold it in.
"To uh. Get to the foundation of the issue, though..." Sans coughed, and Tori caught onto the shift, her laughter slowing after his last joke as her body turned fully towards him.
Sans hummed somewhere in his hyoid, leaning back into the couch. "You know me, Tor. I'm... I'm not the cleanest guy in the world. And not- y'know. The most helpful. I wood-n't wanna put too much on your back, havin' to take care of me, if I lived here." He lightly knocked the coffee table to nail in his joke.
"Oh Sans," Tori set her mug down, leaning forward to rest a large paw nearer to him. "I do not need you to cook for me or clean for me. I have been doing these things for myself for longer than I can recall. What you do for me is more precious than that. You make me happy, you protect me from my bone-liness, you listen and you give me one of my favourite things in the world. Your company is enough, Sans, more than enough."
Her gaze sharpened as Sans tried to fight the flush of magic to his face. "And you are speaking around it, but your condition is a worthy burden. It makes me happy to be able to carry some of it for you, whenever you would let me."
The honesty in her words was brutal. There was no lie in it, no dismissal of Sans' condition being anything other than work, acknowledgement of the burden. And yet, somehow, joy in carrying it. Sans let out a breath, low and long, taking Toriel's paw in his hand, rubbing the pad of it gently with his fingers. "Love ya too, Tori." He said, simply. And she smiled so wide.
The love suffusing his soul felt now like a physical thing. He let her kiss his face, moving his teeth against her tongue for a moment. Instead of pulling apart, Toriel shifted the both of them so they were leaned into each other, and Sans let his head dip to rest against her arm and chest. It was a long time before he spoke again, the final lingering thread of his doubt dragging his being down and down the longer he thought about it.
"Tori, what if...what if I'm not around for as long as you want me to be?" He caught himself. "For as long as we want me to be?" He felt her tense beneath him and hurried to continue. "Not- not that anything's gonna happen anytime soon. I probably got at least five years left in me. Maybe ten. But no matter how many I get, you'll get more. I don't want- that's gonna hurt you. A ton. A skele-ton."
His voice only lost its tone the longer he tried to be light.
Toriel brought her arms around him and he felt her rest her furry chin on the top of his skull. She held him for a long moment and Sans just remained still.
She cleared her throat, and her voice trembled when she spoke. "I... I will not say I have not thought about it. That it has not kept me up at night. Sometimes..." She sniffed, briefly, voice breaking. "Sometimes I wake up and think it has already happened. That you are already gone. I- I know I should not mourn you when you are right here, but I know- I know-" She couldn't continue, dipping her head down further to press herself into the back of Sans' spine. He felt the wetness of tears on his vertebrae, on the collar of his shirt.
"Oh, Tori..." He said, reaching around to stroke her head and behind her ear. She huffed out a strangled sob, and he let her.
She surprised him, when she spoke again. "It is... selfish of me, perhaps. To want to wake up next to you for the reassurance, temporary as it may be. To want to take up more than my fair share of the time you have left. But it is what I want." Her voice gained strength and conviction, and through Sans' exhaustion, he found that he understood. It was sad, but it was his life. All he could really do to minimize the hurt, in the end, was make sure everyone knew that he wasn't making the choice to leave. Would never make that choice again.
"I can give ya that," He said, simply. He let his eyes close. "And I'll give you as long as I got, if you'll have me."
Toriel's voice was a whisper. "That is all I could ask."