Before we start off this chapter, I wanted to give a big thank you to LuminousMoonRay, who sent me a wonderful picture of Frisk and the skelebros! It's hosted publicly on my tumblr account (blazichu) at /post/137063842599/early-this-morning-i-received-a-message-from-the if anyone wants to see it!
Since it was rude to take a shortcut into someone's house- not to mention ill-advised after last time- they took the bus to cover most of the distance between the apartment and Toriel's house.
Though clearly unimpressed with the state of said bus, Papyrus was all too happy to tell Frisk about the places they passed. They didn't even mind being crowded against him, since the proximity made them feel safe among so many foreign humans. That was bad enough, but the staring made it even worse, and they spent most of the ride joined to him at the hipbone.
Sans slouched and acted like he was asleep, but the lack of muted snoring was the first thing to give him away, and the wide berth the humans slowly gave them was the second. Frisk knew first-hand that, until he brought the whoopee cushion out, Sans could be pretty intimidating. They felt a little bad for the humans.
Even with the thinning soles of their boots to cushion the landing, the pavement sent a shock through their bones as they hopped off of the bus's platform and, as soon as they were on the same level again, Papyrus took their hand. It made Frisk feel a little silly- especially after traversing the Underground three times on their own- but they held onto him without complaint.
The scuffling of slippers on concrete told them Sans wasn't far behind. At first.
Frisk's focus was elsewhere: on the fact that, without flesh, their boots weren't pinching their toes anymore, on the hardness of the ground as they walked, on the way the dress's skirt billowed in the breeze and how it felt on their bones. It distracted from how naked they felt without their sweater, in spite of the borrowed clothes.
It was Papyrus- long since accustomed to stopping and making sure his brother was both conscious and on the right track- who thought to double-check.
Sans had been stopped by a woman from the bus and was casting repeated, nervous looks past her; he forced the usual grin and almost imperceptibly shook his head when Papyrus looked back.
The sudden stop jarred Frisk back into reality soon enough to hear, "-raised them very well."
"I… yeah. They're a great kid. We need to get going- but, uh, thanks?"
He bid a sudden retreat- the fastest Frisk had ever seen him move- and purposefully avoided eye-contact once he'd caught up to them. The glow of his irises against his cheekbones almost made him seem flushed, which certainly added to the 'I'm very uncomfortable right now' look. For Sans' sake, they kept going, but Frisk risked peeking back towards the bus stop.
The grey-haired lady smiled at them and waved and, automatically, they waved back with their free hand.
When he noticed, Sans took the hand in question, urging them to turn all the way back around. He still looked flustered, but, with distance, it was beginning to fade.
"Don't encourage her."
Papyrus let out a small, scandalized gasp. "Don't encourage her? That's a terrible thing to say. Sans! What's gotten into you?"
The scolding seemed to help, because Sans let go of Frisk and shoved both hands in his pockets. "I guess you could say that she got under my metaphorical skin. But, you know. Dermis the breaks."
Papyrus sulked for the rest of the walk, but it certainly improved morale on Sans' part.
They stopped at a relatively small piece of property; it didn't have a yard so much as it did a vegetable garden that had gone out of control, and the little white fence didn't do the best job of containing the plants.
It was late enough in the season that the vegetables' leaves spilled out into the walkway, and Papyrus stopped to marvel at the abundance of fruit ripening on the vines.
"You guys have a whole lotta plants to choose from up here." Sans said by way of explanation. "She got a little carried away."
"I helped!" Papyrus announced, and finally released Frisk's hand to pat the tupperware containing last night's masterpiece. "This is where the tomatoes came from- I'm sure that will help the queen appreciate our pasta. Flower shaped noodles and tomatoes from right here in her garden; it's perfect!"
Frisk grinned up at him, remembered the lack of several key features, and started worrying that it didn't come across, but Papyrus seemed to have gotten the message. He half-leapt the next few paces up to Toriel's porch, leaving them and Sans to follow in his wake, and gave the door several solid knocks.
Despite themselves, Frisk felt their fingers digging into the cuffs of their borrowed hoodie.
A flash of yellow caught their attention and they took a step to the entryway's side, towards a window box full of golden flowers. They were still inspecting the plants- half expecting to find one staring back at them- when the door creaked open.
Toriel didn't open it all the way at first- just enough to peer out and let her voice travel as she asked, "Who is there?"
Papyrus let out a gusty sigh, but didn't seem surprised by the toll gate. Reluctantly, he turned to Sans.
That was all the provocation it took.
"Orange."
"Orange who?"
"Orange you gonna let us in?"
A small, delighted gasp sounded through the gap between the door and its frame and Toriel obliged, giggling as she let it fall open.
Before he took a step inside, Papyrus presented her with the plastic container of pasta. While he was distracted with that- and Toriel was busy trying to politely decline- Sans hooked a finger under Frisk's hood and tugged them back to the center of the porch. "What'cha doin' over there? Kumquat over here."
He shrugged off the dirty look it earned him and deliberately changed the topic. "What? Orange you glad I didn't say banana?"
They mumbled something to the effect of "That joke's older than me" and followed him inside, the both of them trailing in Papyrus- and, in turn, Toriel's- wake. Though neither monster was readily available as Frisk shut the door behind themselves, they could hear Papyrus explaining the pasta's significance from a room away.
"Ah, I had not realized that you put so much thought into this. That is incredibly sweet of you, Papyrus."
"Even better-" Papyrus started, before dashing back out into the entryway and positioning himself behind Frisk. Toriel followed at a more sedate pace, happy to watch his antics. "Look!"
Frisk looked up at him.
"No, not you!"
When they righted themselves again, Toriel was watching them curiously.
"Hello, small one!" She looked up at the brothers for an explanation, surprised but not confused, "Shall I assume they are a relative of yours?"
Frisk didn't even need to see to know what face Sans was making when he said, "In a relative sense."
Papyrus grumbled, but, under Toriel's roof, couldn't make a solid case against the questionable humor. His only audible complaint was, "Is it even a pun if you're using the same word?"
Without realizing what they were doing, Frisk shrunk into their hoodie.
As much as they'd been looking forward to this, looking up at Toriel, they remembered that it hadn't just been a few days for her. She'd had time to pick out a whole garden full of vegetables, and those plants had grown to near-maturity- again, Sans' estimate of 'almost a year' made them hesitate.
It would have been so easy to let everything else fall away and start dwelling on the finer details, but there was one big thing that they were still caught up on. They didn't know who the other human souls had come from, but Toriel did. She'd lost them one after another, on top of her own children.
They took half a step backwards and ran into Papyrus' leg.
"Are you alright?" He asked from above, voice tinged with uncertainty.
Frisk turned their head and nodded tersely.
"Ah, it is fine." Toriel said, she had stooped over to speak to them on the same level, but straightened back up and smoothed the wrinkles in her dress, "I understand- if they do not wish to speak with me right now, they do not have to."
Out of their peripheral vision, they saw her smile in their direction. "But do not feel that you cannot change your mind. I promise, I do not bite!"
Sans stepped forward and quietly said something to Toriel, casting a glance over his shoulder as he went. His usual grin twisted and he gave them a wan smile along with a thumbs-up he hid behind his back from Toriel.
Toriel's eyes softened when they landed back on Frisk. "Perhaps it would be best if we retired to the living room. I will make sure everything has been tidied up properly- feel free to follow as you please."
And, in a gust of skirts and cinnamon, she was gone.
"Gonna be honest here: that didn't look like 'alright' to me."
Frisk shook their head and insisted, "S'okay."
Sans sighed and rocked back on his heels, making no move to hide the fact that he was looking to Papyrus for advice. "You know you don't gotta say anything today if you don't want to, right? It's not like we can't come back another day."
They gave a half-hearted nod and stuffed their hands into the hoodie's pocket.
A large, gloved hand came to rest on their far shoulder. "Do you need a platonic hug?"
They paused and nodded again with renewed effort, turning in anticipation. Papyrus didn't disappoint and dropped to their level to envelop them in a bony embrace.
"Don't act like you didn't want to hug 'em."
Papyrus shushed at Sans- more enthusiastically than was strictly necessary, meaning that Sans had probably been on the right track- and quickly followed it up with, "No! I'm… teaching them about consent. That's what you do with baby bones. You teach them. And hug them. And dig up their bones when dogs bury them."
Against his shoulder, Frisk cocked their head.
There was a very noticeable silence coming from behind them.
Finally, Sans snorted. "Well look who's got the dirt on me."
"I… didn't mean to say that."
"I know- it's cool, bro. If you don't teach them not to play rope in some dog's game of tug-of-war, who will?"
Frisk shifted to eye him curiously; the physical contact had done wonders helping them feel better, but this was intriguing.
"Nope, I'm not taking any questions right now- this is time for serious conversation. What'cha thinking about today?"
They sighed into Papyrus' shoulder and took a step back; their voice shook as they said "It's okay. I'm not gonna chicken out again."
"You don't have to say that. If you aren't ready, that's fine too." Papyrus let go in favor of straightening their collar. Like the earlier hand-holding, it made them feel small, but in a strange, good way. They let it go without saying anything.
"It's okay." They repeated instead. "I wanna help her feel better right away."
"That wasn't the question." Papyrus drew back to watch them; when he looked up at Sans, his frown deepened. "But if that's how you feel…"
Frisk nodded- first slowly, then at a more normal pace. "I've only had a few days to miss her."
"But you miss her a lot?"
"…Yeah."
With an expression that suggested he'd been on the receiving end of a pun rather than just taking part in the conversation, Papyrus stood back up. "Then it's my duty to help!"
Frisk went quiet, studying him, and then took his hand. Though a shadow of doubt remained, he brightened up considerably.
When they got to the living room, Toriel automatically rose from her chair to play hostess again, and Frisk met her halfway. They stepped forward and didn't let themselves stop until they were near enough to reach out and touch the fabric of her tunic.
Patiently, Toriel knelt on their level again.
"I'm sorry." Frisk whispered to the ground.
Toriel's brow furrowed in confusion.
They inched closer and tried again. "I'm sorry. I- I…"
Though she didn't move an inch, Toriel's eyes flicked up to Papyrus and Sans, then back down; if anything, she seemed more puzzled than before. One large hand twitched like she wanted to hold it out to them, but thought better of it.
"I was just really tired. I didn't… I - didn't know…"
A memory resurfaced- from back in the Ruins, just before they'd talked Toriel down.
"Every human that falls down here meets the same fate. I have seen it again and again. They come. They leave. They die.
"You are just like the others."
"I… am afraid you have lost me, little one. Can you tell me what you are talking about? I wish to understand."
Finally, they looked up and faced her properly; only then did they realize how blurry their vision had gotten. Were they crying?
"I didn't mean to leave again." As close as they were, the sweetness of butterscotch cut through the distinctive cinnamon scent. "I really wanted to stay with you, and- and now I feel bad, 'cause I still want to, but I wanna stay with Papyrus and Sans, too, and I don't know-" They bit down on the words, but it had already had an effect.
A muffled clap sounded from behind them- the sound of gloves hitting one another- followed by a delighted intake of breath and an accompanying "That's what got you rattled?"
"It was very serious! I told them we were going to keep them, but they have to want it too! Didn't I tell you that I was teaching them about consent?"
Papyrus physically turned to look at them at the same time that Sans' irises flicked in their direction.
"Ah. Um. Go ahead."
"We're just the peanut gallery. Ignore us."
"That is not always as easy as one might expect." Toriel said wryly, "I am beginning to feel that you know something I do not."
"Well, everyone knows different stuff. Why don't you stop beating around the bush and tell the nice goat, kid?" There was a pause, and then a stifled snicker. "Heh, 'goats', kid."
"Sans!"
Frisk turned back around to gauge Toriel's reaction. Her expression suggested she'd heard that one before, but the smile was all they needed to know that she still got a kick out of the unplanned joke. Or maybe just the brothers' reactions to it.
She'd been happy for the past year, at least- maybe not always, but she'd had plenty to keep herself going. At least they couldn't make things any worse for her.
They took several of Toriel's fingers in their bony hands and tilted their head as they looked up at her. "My- my name was Francisca, but I always liked Frisk better."