[ * Just eat the batter now! ]
No.
[ * Come on, it's not like it actually gives you salmonella. That's just a myth perpetuated by people trying to stop me from living my dream! ]
We're sharing it, if we eat it all then Mom and Flowey won't get any.
[ * Az doesn't even like pancakes. He likes waffles more. ]
"What's taking so long?! Pour the batter already!" Flower yells from his clay pot on the flour and batter covered countertop.
Looks like he wants pancakes.
* [ Spoilsport. ]
Frisk smiles in response to the two of them. Chara groans, crossing their ghost-arms (what else is Frisk supposed to call them?) and pouting. Toriel oversees Frisk with a watchful eye as they maneuver around the kitchen built for someone twice Frisk's size.
Frisk carefully pours the batter into a pan, tiny arms straining slightly under the weight of the bowl. Toriel beams in approval.
"I want chocolate in mine!"
[ * Me too. ]
You don't even eat.
[* Let me take control when you're eating them, then. ]
I want blueberries.
Chara scoffs in disapproval. [ * Lame. Blueberry pancakes are gross. ]
"I want blueberries in mine." Frisk signs to Toriel as they finish pouring the first pancake.
Toriel smiles, "Alright, my child." She opens the refrigerator, pulls out a carton of blueberries, and places them next to the half-eaten plastic baggie of chocolate chips. (Which, coincidentally, are right next to Flowey's pot.) "But you must wash them first."
[ * Won't the heat kill all the germs anyway? What's the point in washing it? ]
Frisk responds by turning up the dial on the stove and carefully placing the chocolate chips in a smiley face.
Flowey scrunches up his face in disapproval, "Hey! Don't do that, it's dumb! Put more chocolate in!"
[ * He likes it. ]
Frisk smiles again.
A few minutes later, Frisk deems the underside of Flowey's pancake to be fully cooked and reaches for the spatula.
"No, no, my child! I will do this part." Toriel intervenes, grabbing the spatula before Frisk will (in her mind) somehow manage to burn their arm off and die horribly. A part of Frisk wonders if Toriel knows about the time she burned Frisk to death.
[ * But this is the funnest part! ] Chara complains.
I don't think that's a real word.
Chara sticks their tongue out, [ * Whatever. ]
Toriel flips the pancake with ease. It lands with a satisfying thump onto the uncooked side, and Toriel smiles. Flowey watches wordlessly.
[ * Are we ever going to tell her? ]
Tell her what? Frisk asks, even though they already know the answer.
[ * About Asriel. ]
Frisk doesn't respond for a while, dumping a sizable amount of blueberries into a strainer and standing on their toes to turn on the faucet.
Maybe.
[ * Do you think she wants to know? ]
Frisk watches the water pour through the strainer.
Maybe.
[ * … ]
Toriel delivers the pancake, chocolate-smile side up to Flowey. He doesn't say thanks.
"Now what do you say to Frisk for making breakfast, Flowey?" She asks, gently.
Flowey mumbles a quick thanks before diving for the maple syrup and smothering his food. Toriel seems satisfied. It's a marked improvement from the first time Flowey had breakfast with Frisk. The marks left behind by the vines are still visible on parts of the countertop.
[ * He's ruining the chocolate! Now it'll just taste like syrup! ]
Frisk pours more batter into the already-heated pan.
[ * You know… ]
What?
[ * When we were in the underground, he liked strawberry pancakes more. ]
Frisk doesn't say anything.
[ * But he covered them with maple syrup back then. ]
"What kind do you want?" Frisk asks, signing quickly to Toriel.
"I can make my own, my child, you should just make yours." Toriel smiles, gently patting Frisk's head. Chara and Flowey silently watch from behind.
Frisk plops a handful of blueberries into the pan and watches them sink through the batter.
[ * Put chocolate chips in. ]
That'd taste gross.
[ * Put them in away from the blueberries. ]
You know I can't do that.
[ * Worth a shot. ]
Toriel takes care of the spatula again, and Frisk watches Flowey carelessly devour his not-strawberry pancakes.
Toriel places the blueberry pancake onto a plate and onto the table with a gentle clink. Frisk climbs up into their chair.
[ * No syrup. ]
Okay.
The kitchen is filled with the sounds of cutlery clinking and the stove hissing as Toriel cooks her own breakfast. Frisk watches, slowly chewing on their own pancake. They're filled with a memory that doesn't belong to them.
It's almost the same, except Frisk isn't there, and Asriel, Chara, and Asgore add their voices to the symphony of their morning routine. Asriel says please and thank you and pours syrup on his strawberry pancakes.
Well.
It's almost the same.