Summary: Sci is terrible at hiding things from himself.
(Warning: This chapter contains mild swearing, implied/referenced sex as well as talk about said sex... and future sex.)
Sci awoke with a tiny stretch, squinting at the whispy golden light streaming through his shared bedroom's closed grey curtains. There was a bony arm slung around his waist alongside a pleasant ache in his pelvis from his and Red's late-night "activities." The mere thought of which almost had him blushing.
A brief glance at the alarm clock sat atop the nearby nightstand showed how much said "activities" caused him to oversleep (or undersleep, depending on when he and his lover actually went to bed).
On its digital interface laid "8:23 A.M."
Definitely the latter option then, given Sci's unhealthy relationship with long, napless shifts at work.
Something that he had to be dressed and ready for by 9:30 A.M.
"Ugh... Guess I better get up." He murmured to himself, slowly inching out from under the sheets, careful not to disturb his bedmate. Then he picked a discarded green t-shirt (bearing a science pun, of course) and a pair of plain black shorts off the carpeted floor and slipped them on.
From there, the mostly dressed skeleton tip-toed his way downstairs and to the kitchen- i.e., the sacred haven of any sleep-addled person's most prized possession: the coffee maker.
By the time he had it clean from yesterday's brew and new one trickling into the pot, a set of warm arms captured his waist and tugged him into a hug.
Sci gentle turned his skull to see Red's half-lidded eye sockets and dorky grin.
"Mm. Mornin', beautiful." The bulky, sharp-toothed skeleton sleepily muttered.
A soft smile graced the shorter's jaws while he greeted in return, "Morning, gummy bear. Coffee should be done in a couple minutes."
"Awesome," His datemate mumbled as he pressed a chaste kiss into his cheek. Thus, making the scientist blush a light green before he pulled away and stumbled off to the living room.
No doubt to half-sleep, half-watch TV on the couch during his wait for their home-brewed bean water.
Sci opted to stay in the kitchen until the coffee was done.
(After all, if he got on their sinfully soft sofa without it, he doubted he'd have the strength to will himself get up and go anywhere else.)
When the machine finally beeped, signaling the coffee's readiness, he snagged two mugs from a cabinet, filling them up to the rim with delicious caffeine, and cautiously made his way to the couch and coffee table, where he handed his eager lover a cup.
"Thanks!" Red said, quickly downing half the cup in one sip.
Sci slowly drank from his own cup and settled into the space next to him. "No problem."
There, they relaxed on the plush cushions with the ambient sound of some random cooking show.
Though, their relaxation hardly lasted.
Their front door went flying across the room without warning, banging against the adjacent wall and splintering into pieces to reveal a disheveled blushing Geno.
"How dare you fuck me- I mean, Sci!"
Red flinched back. "The fuck-"
Meanwhile, Sci proceeded to spit out his coffee and coughed. Once calming his nonexistent lungs, he interrupted by crying a loud yet equally embarrassed, "How do you even know that?!"
The bloody glitch huffed, placing his hands on his hips. "We're the same person, Sci. Any memories you make, I get ."
All color swiftly fled from the scientist's face. "Wait, does that mean you know about..."
Geno grimaced, suddenly looking as uncomfortable as Sci felt, and glanced away. "Yes. As much as I wish I didn't, yes."
Thankfully, the other didn't mention anything further about it and shook his skull.
"But that's not why I'm here." the Aftertale Sans turned to Red with renewed fury, jabbing his phalange at the sharp-toothed skeleton's face and saying, "Next time you fuck him, you better give it your all because I know you can do better than whatever that was last night."
Then just as abruptly as the bloody glitch appeared, he left- calmly walking away like nothing happened and leaving the front door splintered on the floor. Consequently, allowing a cool autumn chill to invade the house.
Jaws agape, Red sputtered, "W- what the hell was that about?!"
"I... I think he just gave us his blessing?"
"To fuck?"
"I- I guess."
Together, the two awkwardly sat in silence and stared at the space their door (and Geno) used to be.
"Did the sex suck last night?" Red suddenly asked, self-consciously picking at the hem of his boxers.
"No, it was great! Don't worry about what Geno said." A bright green blush deepened on Sci's skull, and he shyly added, "Though, I wouldn't have minded if you were a little rougher..."
His datemate instantly perked up and purred, "Well then, don't worry, sweetheart. I can certainly do that next time."
Somewhere else, deep within the dark corners of the multiverse, there laid an ominous stone castle atop a barren knoll surrounded by a thick white fog and jagged trees.
In the confines of its walls, a hoodie-clad Sans began quietly laughing to himself.
Nightmare stilled his quill and glanced up at the soft noise, eyeing the murderous skeleton who so graciously decided to invade his office space. The one currently occupying the sizable, purple reading chair pushed into a corner alongside some over-filled bookshelves, a small wooden table, and a curtainless window.
"Killer, what are you snickering about?" He eventually asked, somewhat pondering whether or not he would regret it.
Stifling his laughter as he stared out at the moonlit sky in amusement, Killer replied, "Oh, nothing. Just the fact a Sans has become a man with the blessing of a moody bastard."
An incredulous expression crossed the dark lord's face. "I don't want to know what the means, do I?"
His follower shrugged.
"Eh. Probably not." The target-souled murderer paused before turning toward Nightmare, empty eye sockets laden with curiosity. "Unless you want to gossip about someone's sex life."
"No." Nightmare deadpanned, shifting his attention back to his work.
"Aw, come on! You know you want to hear about it." Killer whined.
The Guardian of Negativity sighed. "No, Killer. I truly don't."
"It's a tale of love with destruction, death, and an unholy love triangle- You know, perfect story material."
His quill halted mid-sentence, and his cyan eyelight slowly returned to the slyly smirking skeleton.
Nightmare sat the writing utensil flat on his desk, leaning back into his chair and clasping his hands together- not all that unlike a stereotypical movie villain (or a businessman interested in a proposal).
"I'm listening."