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So it turned out there was more than one of you. Which was pretty cool, if you were being honest. Life was weird, time was weirder, the universe was probably the weirdest. You didn’t spend your time thinking about that stuff, so it didn’t really bother you too much.
You weren’t really sure how exactly you’d all ended up in the same place, but you weren’t gonna question that too deeply either. It was just what it was.
This other you, this other Papyrus, was almost exactly like sans. Your sans. Your excited, ambitious little brother. This was a tall excited, ambitious, very sans-like version of yourself. It was equal parts weird and funny.
And then this other sans was almost exactly like you. The other sans. A short, pretty small, lazy, laid back version of your brother. Like a really small you. Equal parts weird and cool, for this one. He offered you a lighter instead of telling you you were gonna ruin your ribs, and winked a lot and gave these lazy grins that were eerily similar to yours.
He was pretty fun to talk to, if you were being honest.
“Y’know,” he said, leaning back on his bed, eyes twinkling in amusement, “Other than my bro, you’re probably the coolest guy I know.”
“Heh,” you snorted, smiling vaguely, “Same.”
You breathed out through your teeth, watching the smoke swirling and disappearing into the air. It wasn’t your first time up in his room like this, and you weren’t gonna ask where he got all of it- a magician never reveals his secret and you never rat a magician out to brothers who would disapprove.
“Hey dude, watch this,” you glanced over at him, his face paused in what was probably concentration, before he breathed out, rings of smoke coming in puffs from his eye socket.
“Sweet,” you laughed, getting comfortable against the wall, letting the comfortable haze settle into your bones and senses, “You gotta show me how to do that sometime.”
He glanced over at you, leaning closer with that oddly familiar lazy grin on his face with the intent of blowing smoke in your face again, but somewhere in your hazy mind you got the wrong idea. You?? You went ahead and kissed him?? instead of waving it out of your face and making a joke like you were supposed to.
He reacted slowly (you weren’t any better- your brain was still busy trying to catch up to your actions), blinking with this little gasp and then blinking a few more times before slowly opening his mouth?? giving you perfect access?? You thought maybe you should be surprised or something, but you took the opportunity instead, putting a hand on the back of his skull and liking the way his arms came up to wrap around your shoulders.
It was a sloppy kiss- neither of you had very precise control of anything- but it was really nice and you could taste the smoke in his mouth. You pulled back, and he looked at you for a moment, before giggling.
“Dude, you are so high.”
“Shut up,” you laughed, shoving him half-heartedly. He laughed some more, slumping heavily against you.
He looked up at you with half-lidded eyes and that lazy-ass grin of his. You took a moment to process the perfect angle, and made up your mind.
You tilted his chin up and gave a little grin of your own before closing the distance again, giving him plenty of time to pull away if he wanted to. To your pleasure, he didn’t- he practically threw himself back into the kiss, actually, pulling himself up to reach your mouth better.
Somehow you’d miraculously managed to hold onto your cigarette through all of this, long since burned out. You dropped it in exchange for putting both hands on his bony little waist and clumsily pulling him onto your lap. He seemed to like that a lot, wrapping his legs around you and smiling into the kiss. You felt a smile crawling onto your face in response.
This was nice.
This was really nice and… and warm and fuzzy and you were both trying to press closer and closer- he accidentally elbowed you in the head but that was fine and you both both giggled like idiots for a minute, and then you accidentally kneed him in the groin and that was fine and instead of giggling he sort of choked on the air and yeah, that was really nice.
He was a lot like your brother (a lot lot like your brother- they looked literally exactly the same), which was weird, and also a lot like you, which was also weird.
But it was also pretty convenient, because he was sensitive in that little place on the back of his neck, just like your brother (you know this because once your brother was making dinner and you’d snuck up behind him to try to scare him- a hand brushing the back of his neck and he’d jumped and let out a sort of surprised gasp-y shriek that had your face heating up- and that was it, it wasn’t like you’d thought about it a lot since then, it wasn’t like you were glad you could finally try it out again), and his upper ribs were bordering somewhere between ticklish and delicate, just like yours.
You could work with this.
Your mouth wandered from his panting mouth to the vertebrae of his neck on its own accord, hands sliding up under his jacket to the base of his spine.
“Is this okay?” you panted, because his sudden intake of air was sort of concerning and you weren’t an asshole, even if you weren’t quite thinking straight.
“Yeah, y-yeah,” he nodded, almost breathless. That was all you needed to hear, and he let out a low, “Yeah,” because his spine was just as sensitive as yours and that was really really nice.
The way he squirmed when you kissed his collar bone was really nice too, and the way he dragged his hands down the back of your neck was even nicer.
A part of you thought this was probably pretty weird?? This guy looked like your brother- sort of was your brother in a weird way, if you really thought about it (which you were trying pretty successfully not to do) and you were pretty sure this is exactly what your brother would look like if it was him in your lap, minus the smell of smoke in the air and the laid back yet somehow vaguely stressed out vibe this sans had going on. It was probably pretty weird, but it was also really not weird?? It didn’t feel weird. It felt perfect. Felt right.
This sans was kind of sad and pretty funny and also pretty cool and could probably really benefit from relaxing- actually relaxing, not just laying around. This kind of relaxing, the nice slow kind kind of relaxing neither of you had experienced in a while.
He needed this. You needed this.
You both really, desperately needed this.
So you just went ahead and indulged yourself.
You moved to lay him back, but he moved too fast and landed with a grunt of discomfort that had you snorting and him glaring with the tightest twitch of humor in his eyes. You propped yourself over him and leaned down, pressing your teeth against his forehead in apology. He sighed lightly and seemed to melt under it.
Getting out of your clothes was at least five times more difficult than it had any right to be. You managed to get his arms tangled in his jacket trying to pull it off over his head before remembering it had a goddamn zipper, and tried to unzip your hoodie before remembering that it didn’t have a goddamn zipper.
You managed to wrestle yours off without ripping it, and by the time he untangled his arms and tossed his jacket somewhere out of mind, your mouth was already making its way down his ribcage and your hands were mapping out all the ridges of his spine.
“Shit, dude,” he breathed, hands fisting in the sheets, and you laughed against his bones. You jerked a hand around his spine and he arched up into your hand and yeah, yeah that was so nice you wondered if you could do this again once it was over.
Maybe, you thought absently, more distracted by the way he kicked off his slippers and pulled you flush against him with his legs hooked around your waist. Very distracted by the way he ground up against you, pelvis on pelvis.
“Fuck,” you moaned, and it was his turn to look proud of himself. It was pretty cute, actually. He was pretty cute, chest bare and face flushed and panting and wanting, all for you. For you, not his Papyrus, which was oddly satisfying.
You ground back down in return, reveling in the groan he gave.
“Fuck.” he agreed.
You moved clumsily and kissed some more, this time with a bit more fever and spit, which wasn’t as gross as one would think. You wanted to stick your hand down his shorts and see which places would get the loudest sounds. You wanted to lick your way up and down his entire body a few more times. You wanted to feel his mouth against your pelvis maybe, yeah that would be so good, this was so good, this was,
“So good- god, you’re so good,” you said mindlessly, somehow working up a rhythm that didn’t require too much effort from either party.
He moaned at your words, “You- hah- y-you too— fuuck,”
“Fuck.” you agreed.
“Fuck,” he somehow found a way to laugh, “Fuck me,”
Orgasm hit without warning, and your own laugh got swept away in the wave of pleasure that stuttered through your bones. Sans wasn’t far behind, a messy, hazy picture underneath you.
You collapsed on top of him, breathing heavily.
“…What a workout,” you managed.
He grunted in agreement, and you didn’t have to look up to know he had that vague lazy-ass smile on his face again.
“That deserves a nap,” he said matter-of-factly. You couldn’t agree more. You told him so, but with a bit more swearing and lot less coherency.
He patted you absently on the back, legs tangled in your, “That was… shit, man, that was…”
“Yeah,” you said, understanding completely, “It sure was."
He laughed again, and then you laughed again, and you wondered vaguely where your cigarette had fallen (and how you were gonna explain yourselves later) as you drifted almost alarmingly quickly to sleep, exhausted.
…Shit, man.