Fairytale Complex - [Sans x Reader]

Chapter Twenty Four | Hotel (Part 2 of 2)

A brunch, dessert, and some splashing in the water later, and you're not feeling as... defeated as you previously felt.

Currently, you're only tired and sore all over from how monumental that splash fight was, the near-empty pool area providing a sort of freedom to act wildly.

Now that you've both settled down into a pair of folding chairs, sleep is - strangely enough - seeping in again. Though... Perhaps it's not that strange, if you consider how one stressful thing has quickly followed the other. What was once hard to admit is undeniable: you're exhausted, and you need much more rest than what you've gotten to make up for it. It's only when the thin clouds part and the harsh sun hits at a particular angle that you're forced to do something. But even then, that's just you turning to the side and letting it hit your back rather than your face.

And oh boy, does that initiate something - something you're not quite certain what to label as, though it's definitely anything but expected.

There's the sound of Sans standing up from his chair, and - with you facing opposite to him - you're left to guess what he's doing next, and your other senses multiply by the double. You grow more alert, and you have to hold back a squeak as he squeezes some sunblock on your back without a word of warning. He knows exactly where to linger longer and tickle at, until you're prompted to speak up.

"Just what're you planning, osito?" you call out, narrowing your eyes - despite still looking away from him.

"Whaddya mean, doll?" he asks, and you can almost imagine the overconfident look on his skull.

"You're taking your sweet time doing this." You involuntarily scoot even further away from him when he hits at a highly ticklish spot - cold sunscreen and colder fingers combining to worsen it. "And I could've just covered up with my towel, y'know?"

And now, you've added fuel to the fire, because he stops right as he squeezes some sunscreen on your neck without rubbing it on his hands first to lessen the frigid feeling, and - by God - does that piss you off.

"Well..." He leans in over you, one hand pressing next to your waist while the other lands on your shoulder, gripping in a way that suggests he's not done bothering you. "Noone else is here, and you look a lil' tense, so..."

"Oh, my God." You fake a gasp. "...You want to give me a massage, don't you?" you speak up, louder - and intentionally so.

With how much longer it takes for him to move or do anything else, you assume you've hit a weak point.

"That's so embarrassing," you whisper, grinning. "No wonder you're going around in circles about this."

"...That's not it," he says, after another while of silence. "It's not embarrassing."

Sans returns a hand to your neck, finishing the rest of the job before he adds some more sunscreen on your arms and legs next.

"I wanna make ya feel good." The hand near your waist stays there. It inches a bit closer to your stomach, almost half-hugging you, at this point. "I said it last night, didn't I?" His voice is strained, as are each and every one of his movements while he spreads the sunscreen this way and that. "Feels like I haven't shown how much I care, and like you've been doing most of the cuddly stuff, so..."

"Are you kidding?" you exclaim, sitting up on par with the rise in your tone. "Do you even know how cuddly you are when you're asleep?"

And you say that while holding him by the shoulders and with a stern brow.

"I damn near almost missed my trip to the bathroom one time, cuz you were hugging me too tight, and I couldn't find a way to get out without waking you up!"