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Chapter 5

Mothers and Fathers

"WOWIE!"

The all-too-familiar cry woke the comfortably ensconced Sans to sudden awareness of his situation, pillowed against the queen's stomach with his hands running up and down her back and his head nestled between her breasts. Hastily he pulled himself away as far as Toriel's encircling arms would allow. Toriel let out a startled bleat as she whirled toward the source of the exclamation: at the edge of the living room Papyrus stood, eyes bugged out and gleaming as though he'd just won a Michelin star for his cooking, grinning manically and bearing aloft on his shoulders again the smiling figure of the diminutive ambassador.

"Jeez, bro!" exclaimed Sans. "Couldn't you have given me a warning or something? This is..." He looked up at Toriel's face, which was now turned back toward Sans and regarding him with a dewy-eyed expression. "...sort of bad timing..."

But Papyrus was still transported with delight, swinging his arms wide as if to hug the entire room. "My big brother's in love! Oh! The great Papyrus has a magnificent idea! We should double date! I'll tell Mettaton when to make reservations for four instead of two and--" Frisk began laughing aloud.

"NO, Papyrus," Sans burst out. Papyrus cut himself short in mid-sentence, his mouth open still in a look of comical surprise.

"I think what dear Sans is trying to say," Toriel interjected in her gentlest, most conciliatory tone, "is that he prefers to spare me the inevitable stress and undue attention that would come with a date in a public place, especially a date also involving your glamorous and eye-catching partner, and wishes the time we spend together to be more private and serene. Is that not so, Sans?"

"Oh, absolutely," Sans rushed to reply, clutching gratefully at the straw. "I mean, sometimes you just want to forget you're royalty, huh? No fancy clothes, no being waited on, just, uh, like, quiet walks in the woods or something, holding hands..."

"My, Sans, you really are a romantic at heart," cooed Toriel, leaning down to nuzzle Sans's cheekbone with her soft nose. Sans blushed indigo.

Frisk tapped Papyrus's shoulder and with a commanding sound and a downward jab of their finger asked the skeleton for aid in dismounting.

"Yes, Ambassador, as you wish!" Papyrus dipped one knee to the floor and Frisk stepped off. The child then ran to Toriel, hugged her tightly, and whispered something in her ear that Sans could just catch: "Mom, I'm so happy for you."

"I'm overjoyed as well, my child," said Toriel, returning Frisk's embrace. "Thank you for encouraging me to be truthful."

"Weren't you making pie?" came Frisk's next whisper.

"Oh, dear, the pie!" Toriel released her child and swung round to look toward the kitchen. "We have some pie crust dough in the refrigerator but we haven't even started making any pies yet." She started to scramble to her feet.

"Wait,"_Frisk signed, and Toriel sank back onto the couch. _"Have you kissed yet?"

"What?" Sans stared at them. "Kiddo, it's kinda hard to kiss when you don't have lips."

"Mom can kiss you," Frisk signed. Papyrus gasped with excitement.

Toriel's eyes lit up, gleaming with ardor. "My child is right. We should celebrate this moment in the most romantic possible way and what could be more romantic than our first kiss?" She brought her face to within inches of Sans; he could feel the warmth of her exhaled breath over his cheekbones.

"Gosh, Tori," murmured Sans, "you really wanna do this in front of your kid?"

"Sans," replied Toriel sotto voce, "my child has been in the same room as Alphys and Undyne kissing. After witnessing that I doubt whether they have much innocence left to protect."

"Well, okay," Sans replied, with a not unpleasant shudder of anticipation. "If you think you can do anything enjoyable to my bony face with your much nicer one, Tori, I'm game to try."

"I'll see what I can do," Toriel purred before closing the gap between them and planting her soft lips on Sans's maxilla. Soft but insistent was the pressure of those warm lips on his bone, and Sans felt heat rising in his chest, along with it an urge to vocalize his pleasure that he subdued only after a struggle. Just before Toriel pulled away she flicked the tip of her tongue between her lips, brushing against the surface of his maxilla, and Sans quivered. "Was that enjoyable, Sans?" she asked, her voice low and sultry.

"...oh, gosh...yes," Sans managed to say.

"Wow!" exclaimed Papyrus. "That was almost as passionate as when Mettaton first kissed me..."

Frisk clapped their hands and beamed. "Maximum date power!" they signed."Now pie."

"Yes, yes, pie," reiterated Toriel, reluctantly withdrawing her arms from round Sans and levering herself off the couch. "We should start working on the fillings. Shall we say that recess is now over and it is time to resume lessons?"

"Uh, almost, Tori. If you don't mind getting the kitchen warmed up for me while I spend a few minutes talking the ambassador here. Can I borrow your child for a quick chat? In confidence?"

"Well...all right, Sans. I shall start preparatory work while you speak with Frisk. But I do ask that you not keep me waiting long." Toriel leaned over the back of the couch and nosed the top of Sans's skull. "After all, we have yet to discuss what sort of desserts you wish me to teach you how to make. Cream pies, perhaps?"

"Heh. Heh." Sans resisted the urge to squirm. "Papyrus, bro, I take it you're done with puzzle books for now? Mind doing a little shopping for me?"

"I would be glad to, Sans! What do you need?"

"Pick up a carton or two of vanilla Nice Cream to go with the pie. Also some whipping cream just in case we run out."

"With pleasure, Sans!" Papyrus bowed with hyperbolic courtesy to Toriel and Frisk. "I shall return as swiftly as I can to assist you, Your M--Lady Toriel." He strutted to the front door with the air of one intent on an urgent mission and made his exit.

Toriel watched Papyrus go then headed for the kitchen. "Promise me you'll join me soon, Sans! I will occupy myself in the meantime with some washing-up." She gave Sans a demure wave with the fingers of one paw before disappearing into the kitchen, and soon the sounds of clattering dishes and running water emerged, mixed with the low, melodious sound of Toriel humming a tune.

"All right, Frisk. I got a couple things I wanna chat with you about. C'mere, sit." Sans patted the couch and Frisk obligingly threw themselves down next to the skeleton, bouncing up and down a little on the springy cushion and kicking their heels against the front of the couch. Sans watched them for a few moments.

"You look pleased as punch, kiddo," Sans said at length. "So, did you get what you wanted?"

Frisk nodded enthusiastically, treating Sans to a broad smile.

Sans chuckled. "Always gotta play the matchmaker, don't you, Frisk? Like with Alphys and Undyne, and those two dudes from the Guard who are always eating Nice Cream together now. And I'll bet you had something to do with my brother and Mettaton hooking up too, huh?"

The young human shook their head, vocalizing an emphatic sound of denial, and fumbled in their pockets for their notebook and pen. "That wasn't me,"_they scribbled out. _"That was all Undyne and Alphys."

"Still, you're the one that helped get them together, so I'm gonna credit you with setting up Papyrus too." Sans grinned, but then his voice took on a serious tone. "You've been lucky, kid, and this time you were lucky again, but you're not always gonna be able to count on that. You're way smarter and got better judgment than most grownups but you are still just a kid. You can't always assume two people belong together just because they like each other."

Frisk stopped bouncing and kicking, their expression becoming a little glum. "Are you mad at me?" they signed.

"Me? No! In fact I'm kinda grateful you were able to draw your mom out. All I'm saying is, sometimes these things are messier than they first appear. Just advising you, as a friend, to be more cautious in future before pushing anyone into, well, trying to date someone else up. Promise?"

"_I promise,"_Frisk signed, ending the gesture with a hand on their heart and a solemn bow of their head.

"So, I gotta ask," Sans said, "why do you do it, kid? Why are you so keen on getting folks hooked up?"

Frisk shrugged and looked pensive for a moment, then wrote out their answer. "I just want to see people happy. So when I see that two people really like each other but are too shy to say so, I want to help them do that."

"Just out of the kindness of your heart? Well, kid, I gotta say that if there's anyone I know who'd want nothing more than to see everyone happy, just because, it's you, Frisk." Sans lightly touched Frisk's knee and the child lowered their eyes, smiling modestly.

"But I don't think that's the whole story. I don't think you'd be doing this unless you were getting something out of it."

Frisk's expression darkened and they began scribbling hastily. "Sans, believe me, I'm not--"

"Hey, kid, don't get the wrong idea," Sans quickly interjected. "I'm not accusing you of running some sort of game. I think it's more like...you're looking for something you didn't get when you were younger."

Frisk frowned and tapped their pen against their pad for a second or two before replying. "Like what, Sans?" was all they wrote.

"I dunno, you've never liked to talk much about your past so I can only guess. And what I'm guessing is...you didn't get to see a lot of happiness and togetherness back then."

Frisk closed their eyes for several seconds, head turned toward the floor, and for a moment Sans thought they were on the edge of weeping. "No,"_Frisk eventually wrote. _"My--" Here they paused before scribbling the next words. "--human parents were always mad. They fought a lot. Over me and other things. Then one day when I was still really young my original dad was just gone."

A cold shiver passed through Sans. Frisk's last words reverberated in his mind.Dad was just gone...just gone...gone... "That's rough, kiddo. I'm sorry," he said aloud.

"I think my mom blamed me. She was even more unhappy and mad all the time. Then one day she came home with a new boyfriend. Maybe she'd be happy now and not mad, I hoped. But she wasn't. There were more fights. She--" Frisk's pen and notebook slipped off their lap to the floor as they buried their face in their hands, and though they made no sound Sans could tell from the shaking of the child's shoulders that they were crying.

"Aw, jeez, kiddo..." Sans looked around indecisively. _Should I get Toriel?_Instead he found himself asking, "Do you want a hug, kid?"

Frisk kept their face hidden in their hands but they gave a small nod. Sans put his arms around them in a cautious embrace, feeling their slight body shudder periodically with silent sobs. Slowly though the sobbing quietened. Frisk dropped their hands away from their face and leaned against Sans's chest with eyes closed.

"Are--are you afraid of me, Sans?" Frisk whispered.

"Huh? Why would you ask that?" asked Sans, not breaking the embrace.

"It's the way you hug." Frisk said nothing more for many moments. "I can't blame you. I hurt so many of you," they whispered at last. "I'm so sorry, Sans."

Did you hurt us? Sans asked himself. He'd seen so many momentary glimpses of different Frisks in his nightmares and in random scraps of memory, kind Frisks and angry Frisks, Frisks who were angels of mercy and Frisks who were angels of death. Which of the visions had been even been real? Some of them must have been, surely, but not all of them. "You've made up for it, kid. You went back and did right in the end. That's all that matters."

"I was in pain," came the scarcely audible murmur. "I was frightened. I thought everyone was an enemy. Even Papyrus. But after I--after I k--" Again they were forced to stop, racked with noiseless sobs.

A chill went through Sans's bones. So that one is true, anyway. Frisk did kill my brother once. For a fraction of a second anger rose within him and a blue light flared in his left eye-socket but just as quickly it died. That was a different Frisk, Sans admonished himself. Not this kid who won't even swat a mosquito. "You don't need to punish yourself, kiddo. You don't have to dwell on it."

"Mom sa--saved--m--me," they went on, pushing the words out despite the stammering and the tears. "W--w--why did it ta--take me so--so--l--long--"

"Shhh. Frisk, shhh...stop trying to explain. Just breathe, kiddo, you don't need to talk. It's okay now. You're okay now." Sans gingerly patted the young human's back until the sobs stopped and the rise and fall of their chest slowed to a calm and regular pace. "Who cares how long it took? You got there, didn't you?"

"I g--guess so," whispered Frisk. "You really don't hate me?"

"Hell, no!" Sans replied. "Can't say I wasn't a little nervous at first, when I first saw you in Snowdin and recognized you, or thought I recognized you anyway. And I kept a close eye on you. But jeez, kid, every single thing you did..." Sans looked Frisk in the eyes. "Your mom was one hundred percent right about you. You know, it stung a bit, leaving you to yourself in the royal hall. I really thought...heh." Sans paused, feeling an unfamiliar emotion stirring beneath his attempt to maintain an even tone. "I'd spent all that time watching out for you, so it was a bit hard to see you go off alone to face King Asgore. One way or another...I figured I wasn't gonna see you again." The emotion was bubbling closer to the surface; it was time to deflect if he could. "Turns out you humans are made of sternum stuff, heh heh, sterner, sternum...oh, hell." Abruptly Sans wrapped his arms snugly around Frisk's body, cradling them against his chest. Frisk responded first with a squeak of surprise and then with a tight embrace in return. "I thought I'd lost you forever, kid," he said, his voice tremulous.

"You didn't lose me," whispered Frisk in reply. "D--Dad."

"Uh." Sans stared into Frisk's face, eye-sockets wide with shock. "Did you just call me what I thought you called me?"

Frisk looked placidly back at Sans, their face now at its most neutral, as if calling animated skeletons "Dad" were a routine matter for them. "You're gonna be my mom's boyfriend, right?" they whispered.

"Well, yeah, but--"

"And I miss having a dad," they went on. "A real dad. Mom's wonderful but she's so busy sometimes. Half the time I'm hanging out with you anyway. You're practically my dad already."

"You got a point there but--"

"Sans? Frisk?" Toriel's head popped into view from the kitchen. "Are you done with your conversation?" Her eyes narrowed and her face grew worried, and she hurried over to the two figures on the couch, scooping up her child's fallen writing implements along the way. "Frisk, dear child, have you been crying? Sans, what have you two been talking about?"

Frisk quickly held up their hands, palms outward in reassurance, then signed, "Mom, it's okay! It's all good!"

"Are you sure?" Swiftly Toriel wiped her paws on her apron and kneeled to put one arm around her child, the other around Sans. "Are you both really all right?"

"Yeah, Tori," Sans answered. "It got a bit emotional, that's all, but we're fine, aren't we kid?"

"Yes. I've never been better," Frisk whispered, looking from Toriel to Sans. "Mom. Dad."

Toriel's eyes widened and her jaw dropped open. "'Dad'?"

The front door flew open. "I HAVE RETURNED! BEARING GIFTS OF CREAM, ICED AND OTHERWISE!" Papyrus cried, before he noticed the attitude of the others. "Toriel? Frisk? Brother? Is everything quite all right?"

"Depends, bro," Sans replied. "How do you feel about being an uncle?"

"WOWIE!"