When Lightning Strikes

Chapter seven

You were bundled up in some of Sans's long sleeves, hoodies, and several layers of blankets that hid water bottles filled with hot, hot, h o t water on the couch. Sans was checking the temperature of your finger tips, one of the easier ways to figure out if you've been getting enough to eat in general, and enough protein to eat more specifically.

The colder your fingers were, usually, the sooner you needed something with protein. Jerky was your favorite go-to snack for what you needed, but Sans didn't like how much other unknown stuff that put inside you. Protein smoothies, while more gross, were more healthy and generally better for you.

"Still Too Cold," he said, frowning. You sighed, you knew what this meant. "Don't Pout Sunshine, It's Just One Smoothie. You Can Handle It." You grumbled at that and crossed your arms, unhappy at the situation you were in.

Of course, this situation could be worse, but if you had resisted the temptation to eat those donuts that Sans had made (he made them! How were you supposed to resist?) then your body wouldn't have reacted so badly to that virus you had. You wouldn't still be recovering from using magic. (but they were so so S O delicious, they were so so S O worth it!)

"Stoppit!" a thin, well worn, Berry Yummy Cookbook by Anna Bryant landed in your lap, startling you out of your daydream, "No More Donuts Until You're Better! Don't Even Think About Them."

You bit back a hungry whine, jutting out your lower lip even more in an exaggerated pout. Only the static of magic warned you what Sans was about to do, before he teleported right onto your lap, trapping you onto the couch with no way to escape.

"Open Up You Little Baby." he said, shoving the smoothie into your face.

"Not a baby!" you tried to shove him off of you, with no success.

"Then Stop Acting Like One."