Toriel sighed, crossing the room to the white basket set beside the skeleton's dresser. They rarely visited his room while they were together, and the state of disarray was largely the reason why. At least he had finally taken down the trash tornado, exchanging it for a small waste bin(which had trash items scattered near it, with fewer actually in it).

"well, i mean, at least i folded it this time," he gave with a shrug.

"It's not much more effort to get these put away," Toriel said, a chuckle beneath her words. Sans muttered something about getting distracted, which she ignored as he came up beside her to grab a shirt off the stack. Toriel helped him put away his clothes, stopping him when he grabbed a flannel shirt.

"Button-ups get hung up," she told him. Sans gave her a confused look for a moment before shrugging. He wasn't used to having a closet, or the concept that wrinkled was not the natural state of clothing. Toriel handed him a few more button-ups and a sweater so he made his way to the closet. Toriel grabbed the balled white socks and opened the top drawer to put them away but the drawer was mostly taken up by three shoeboxes. She squinted in confusion. She set the white socks with another lone pair of white sock in the remaining space of the dresser drawer and stared at the three relatively plain shoeboxes. Curiosity drove her to thoughtlessly grab the lid before pausing.

What might be in there? Oh no. She knew what she kept buried in her sock drawer and it wasn't anything she wanted anyone else to see. Well, maybe Sans, since they had used the item during their alone time on a few occasions…but still, this was kind of invading his personal space, wasn't it? Although she was incredibly curious to know the number of items he might have to need three boxes, if that indeed was when he kept in there. But, Sans hadn't seemed hesitant in the slightest when she started to put his laundry away, so perhaps that was not what they were?

Toriel bit her lip, slowly lifting the lid to reveal…

More socks?

Not the standard white with grey heels, but colorful, patterned socks. These socks were mostly patterened in dark blues and purples, seeming to get bluuer nearer the left side of the box.

"oh yeah, try not ta' move those. i got 'em organized how i want them," he said, buttoning the last shirt onto a hanger.

"What are..? Sans?" this mahn never organized a thing in his life, Toriel thought.

"my sock collection," he clarified. Toriel blinked at him.

"You mean Papyrus was serious about this?"

"eh? yeah, why wouldn't he be?" Sans slid the door closed.

"Oh, I just did not think he was…getting the right impression of it. If one simply has very many spare socks, some might say they have a collection, but in reality they just rarely make it to the laundry, hence the spares…why do you collect socks of all things?" Toriel tilted her head to examine the skeleton's face in moderate confusion.

"why not?" he returned simply. "some people collect rocks. at least socks have some value." Said the guy who'd finally gotten around to feeding his pet rock regularly.

"Are…are these all women's socks?"

Sans' grin twitched and a hand came up to rub the back or his cervical vertebrae.

"well, i mean yeah. men's socks only come in black and white. so if you want blue socks, or fuzzy socks or uh…" he paused, noticing that his girlfriend had gone to lifting the lid of another box. He started to sweat. There was nothing but socks in that drawer, but some of the socks he had were a little…upon consideration…

"Skull and crossbones! How funny," Toriel laughed lightly, selecting the pair from the collection. 'Oh' she thought. These weren't quite the typical pair of socks. Scandalous. She put the thigh highs back in with the others and closed the lids to the boxes with a warmth in her face she felt rather silly for. They were just socks.

"uh, yeah, so uh i don't actually wear those because they'd look ridiculous on me but it's always an impulse buy. i know they'd look much better on a woman, or uh, someone with flesh on them but–not that i really care too much how i look but uh…" he saw Tori's mouth twitch into a smile and felt a bit more magic than needed tinting his cheekbones.

Tori thankfully shut the drawer then and allowed him to move on from that conversation.

It was about a week later that he landed himself at Toriel's kitchen table for breakfast. He wasn't normally up that early but Papyrus had gone overboard with de-bugging the house that morning after finding the dog had fleas again, and Sans wasn't entirely sure the toxic fumes wouldn't kill him, so Papyrus was hanging with Undyne and he had been sent over here until the house was habitable again.

He mussed up Frisk's hair as he sipped his third cup of coffee. Frisk sent a glare and fixed their hair before they ran out to meet up with MK to go Christmas shopping. Eleven was a fun age. Lots of glaring.

"still gonna give them that rc plane?" Sans asked as Toriel came up behind him, watching Frisk and MK chat as they walked down the street.

"Of course. They have had…a bit of an attitude lately, but I think they just are not having an easy time adjusting to their new school. I wish I could teach secondary school, but I am needed at the primary."

"eh. maybe." Sans tipped back his coffee cup. Toriel didn't normally drink coffee, so Sans knew that was especially for him when Papyrus had dumped his sleeping body at her doorstep at 7am. He was going to drink the entire pot to make it worthwhile. He was so caffeinated as it was now that there was no way he was going to sleep until the inevitable crash around 5pm tonight. He looked up at Toriel to make some sort of joke about the caffeine high, but he noticed her clothes were different from earlier. Her long blue dress was now a shorter purple one, the skirt ending at her knee, black tights underneath, always a little on the modest side.

"you going somewhere today?" he asked. She normally wouldn't wear tights unless it got cold and she was going out somewhere. She only owned one pair of shoes, which she hated wearing, being very large men's rainboots in the largest size she could find.

"I have a bit of grocery shopping, but that can wait until the afternoon, when the roads are clearer." Ah, yeah. Ice. She was a nervous driver, unlike his brother.

"you changed into tights, i thought you might be headed out right away," he commented, standing to refill his coffee mug. He tipped his coffee cup up again, noticing the curious expression of hers over the rim of the mug.

"what?" he asked, setting the cup back on the counter.

"You know, Sans, you and I have something else in common." She smiled.

Sans sent her a questioning gaze. She giggled, touching her hand to her mouth.

"Well, you know," she grabbed onto the middle of her skirt.

"I do not actually own any tights." At this, Sans' expression became more confused, before his eyelights dropped down to the hand clutched in her skirt.

"We both have an affinity for certain articles of clothing." She lifted the hem slowly up her legs, and Sans felt magic collecting around his face once again. He looked back to her face for a second before he caught the contrast of white fur slowly revealed over the black. What she was wearing, were, in fact, a pair of socks. Tall, black thigh highs with a delicate pattern of black lace at the top. Set against her short white fur, he could see all the detailing in the lace, brushing against her thighs. Damn. They did look good on fleshy monsters.

"Tell me, do I rock these socks?" She asked, reminding him of his collectable rocks example. He hadn't even realized he'd taken a step forward until she spoke. He gulped audibly, an interesting feat for a skeleton.

"hell yeah, tori. you rock my world."

"Sans," she started, her tone dripping with implications, "do you wish to knock my socks off–"

She was almost interrupted by his sudden outburst of "no!"

"l-leave 'em on," he stuttered. She raised an eyebrow. His face burned brighter.

"e-everything else can c-come off, but could you keep the socks on?" Toriel blinked once before a smirk settled onto her face. He was trembling. Or was that the shakes from too much caffeine?

"That doesn't sound like a problem." She dropped her skirt back down and grabbed his hand.

"fuck yeah," she heard him mutter as she lead him out of the kitchen.

"hey tori, y-you think you could wear my crossbones ones the next time?" Her replying laugher was kind and soft.

"Of course," she gave with a wry smirk.

...

Reposted from ao3, where I've been dwelling.