"Wow..."
The entire Lab draws a collective exhale, letting the mesmerized air out in a joint sigh. The thumping bass from Frisk and Mettaton's fight still resonates like thunder that's just passed by.
And what thunder it was!
So that was why Blookie was there, to do the music! Damn, he really gave it his all. Shocked Frisk for a moment, sure, but it wasn't long before they started bobbing their head with the rhythm, just like the viewers in the Lab.
Aofil needs to remember to ask for the song from Blookie. It'll be perfect for their workout. One of many great songs, hopefully, if the one for this fight is anything to go by.
On the monitor Frisk breathes out while leaning their hands rest on their knees. Their body heaves up and down as they recover from the fight through some heavy breaths. Well, it was more a dance than a fight, to be honest. Less flamboyant than what Mettaton would usually do and more…sophisticated. That's most likely the closest word to use here. So different from his normal routine of being a star on stage.
He's got range, gotta give him that.
A ballet, or a ball at a grand castle back in the days of kings and queens. Mettaton sure did take the role of queen to heart with his performance.
A bit too liberal with how high he should kick his legs while wearing a robe, true, but who can blame him?
Toriel, most likely.
But that's for later.
Frisk did also put their best foot forward, and then their other, and then their best again. It reminded Aofil of when they took Frisk to soccer practice that one time so many years ago.
So many years…
Their dodging hasn't faded one bit. Undyne's work, most likely. That proud smile of hers is still very much hers even with the layers of paint and prosthetic making her look like Alphys. Even Radentim with his and or her many layers of makeup and skill can't stop Undyne's smile from flashing brighter than the sun.
"Awesome!" she shouts with her arms held up high in triumph. "Frisk takes the win once again! Ngahahahaha! So awesome! Just how we planned!"
"Yeah...planned," Toriel is hesitant to agree. Her eyes are hard on Mettaton brushing off his purple robe. His many robotic flames gather around him, and after blowing kisses to Frisk, who blows one back, the flames retreat behind Mettaton's back.
"I NEVER KNEW YOU WERE SO FLEXIBLE, TORIEL!" Papyrus voices in half a cheer, half a question.
As if being struck by the heaviest and bluntest object in the known world, Toriel's head shoots forward with her eyes almost popping out of her skull. She coughs as if her entire being is about to escape her.
"COULD YOU KICK AS HIGH AS METTATON DID?" Papyrus continues while rubbing his chin tilted down at Toriel's leg. "CAN YOU STILL DO IT? I MIGHT KNOW OF SOME HUMAN MARTIAL ARTS THAT MIGHT-"
Asgore pulls him upright again without saying a word. He can't really, because whatever he would say would be the biggest mistake he ever did in his life. Agreeing or disagreeing wouldn't matter. Even if he'd known Toriel's flexibility back then, it would be better left unsaid.
For everyone's sake.
"SHOULDN'T YOU BE IN POSITION, ASGORE?"
The painted, bony smile on Asgore's lips widen into a relieved smile. "Y-yes, I should!" He motions for Sans with his hand, and just as Toriel is about to turn her head around, Sans and Asgore disappear with nothing but the breath of a relieved husband not having to answer his wife's burning question.
A sigh so strong it could be felt around the world.
With a friendly elbow to knock the air out of Papyrus so that he can't reiterate his question to Toriel, Undyne steps up to the Boss Monster with her brow so furrowed you could crush a walnut between the folds.
"My robe...so...revealed..." Toriel mutters to herself. Her eyes quiver in rhythm with her mouth.
"It's Mettaton," Undyne reminds with a chuckle, turning to each other person in the room to get them to join in it. "He just went off script, didn't he?"
"Yes," the room agrees in unison.
"Off...script," Toriel repeats under her breath.
"Yes," the room repeats.
She nods to herself. "Yes, that's...that's what he did. Off script."
This is all so goddamn amazing Aofil's at a loss of words. They have to step aside for a moment to not let Toriel see their stifled laugh and quaking shoulders. Hearing Undyne comfort Toriel after Mettaton having pretended to be Toriel and kicking up his robe to-
Nope! Nope!
Aofil has to step outside.
They can't… They can't get this under…
The door closes behind them, and Aofil begs to any and all power that would listen to them that it's sound proof.
Because they can't hold it in any longer.
Their tail extends behind them as far as it can to keep them from falling over as their entire upper body flies forward in a throat destroying laugh.
The entirety of Hotland laughs with them as their voice echoes on the vast cavernous space surrounding them. The heat from the lava flanking the stone platform the Lab is on has the air almost burning Aofil's already destroyed throat as they breathe in greedily between spouts of giggles and snorts.
Aofil's pained coughs is punishment for their laughter. Each one is like a pinch on their throat followed by a twist when they breathe in again.
They shouldn't be laughing. They shouldn't be enjoying Toriel's confusion this much, but…
Their faint facade breaks immediately, and they descend once again into their tub of titter.
Now even their tail gets into the action, smacking the ground behind them as Aofil's arms would on their knees should they have them available to them.
Why did they put on the costume so long before Frisk gets to where Aofil's supposed to meet them?
Just another giggle to add to their already side splitting pile of absurd amusement and baffled bursting. They don't mean anything malicious about it all. It's just so...relieving to them. All of the past years, with and without the monsters, even the years before the monsters even surfaced, are nothing now.
Like those years never happened, because how could the scenario of Mettaton dressing up as Toriel and kicking his leg so high up that Toriel becomes embarrassed for herself happen if all those years of hardship happened?
Or maybe…
A drop falls across Aofil's view. Sweat? Or a tear?
Maybe it's because of all the years of hardship that they're laughing so hard. It's all come ahead for them now. It's all dawning on Aofil, all at the same time, so what can they do but laugh?
Aofil blinks, and as their eyes open, they can't see naught but distorted colors and shapes.
Tears…
Radentim won't be happy having to paint Aofil's face again. He and or she has already washed his and or hers brushes and put those away in their cases.
Having to bother Radentim, asking her and or him to unpack her and or his kit again is like a corn of sand in comparison to the mountain of hardships the monsters and Aofil has had to climb, yes, but the mountain is behind them, and the sand is in their shoe.
Well, in their eye, technically, since they're crying.
"You alright?"
Aofil turns their head over their shoulder and is greeted by the very much costumed Muffet walking up with worry planted firmly on her face. Her five eyes blink violently as she spots the tears in Aofil's two eyes. Drops of water are shaken out from the glass in one of her hands, crashing onto the hot stone floor with loud sizzling and puffs of steam.
The shock reverberates all throughout Muffet's many limbs, and the sympathy hits Aofil multitude because of that. "No, no," they say while fruitlessly bending their head to try and dry off their tears on their orange striped sweater. "I'm fine, Muffet," they say while stretching their neck as far as their skintight costume allows, which unfortunately isn't far enough for their eye to reach their shoulder. "Just had to step outside for a moment. It's not because of what it looks like though. I wasn't crying."
One of Muffet's hands move up to indicate her own eyes. "But?" Her others begin to clench, especially around the glass of water and her wand which she carries in another hand, the crystal on which turning into a deep blue color with a worried glow to it.
"I was laughing," Aofil explains after giving up on on trying to dry off their eyes. They should dry off from the heat surrounding them. "That's all."
The color on Muffet's crystal turns a few shades lighter, but her grip remains as hard as before. "Laughing? But your tears..."
"Laughed a lot, that is," Aofil explains with a small shake to their head. It's not enough to get the tears away, as they've thickened from leaving streaks in Aofil's yellow makeup. "Mettaton being Toriel, and Toriel reacting to it is just-"
A sneaky chortle interrupts their explanation.
Muffet's mouth bends to the side into a conflicted pout in response. Her feline tail bends underneath her legs, stopping just short of wrapping around her leg.
Aofil's own tail is lifted up as they lurch forward in their haste to continue their explanation. "No, no I was laughing with them. I promise. I'm just so relieved that we're able to do this, that we're able to have so much fun without any swelling asterisks pulsating with each snicker and silly moment. Fun, without anything to worry about. Except Toriel seeing Mettaton kicking as if he's trying to imprint his foot on the ceiling."
Just a snicker for Aofil this time. They're calming down.
Muffet nods along to that as her grip on her wand relaxes. "I'm glad too, Aofil." It instantly becomes tight knit again as her face begins blushing.
Aofil hazards that it's not because of the heat, even if it would've been a good guess. The glass of water must've been her excuse for the others to follow Aofil outside. It's nice of her, even if it's steaming away with each passing second. Aofil don't think they should be drinking it now that it's begun cooking.
They're pretty sure why she came out to see them.
And Aofil is not gonna lie. It's pretty clear to themselves that's something's been strung along between them and Muffet. Metaphorically, that is.
For now.
"We can talk later next week, Muffet," they offer to her with a nod. "My place for some dinner? It's about time I cook something, don't you think?"
Her prosthetic cat ears pique as if a shot of electricity suddenly burst right through them. Her eyes shoot over to Aofil, and she retracts her upper lip once she realizes that she's caught. She can't be used to being the insect in the spider's web, so her reaction is understandable. It has her mouth moving in all shorts of shapes as she fails to find one that's comfortable.
Her fangs push gently against her chin again…
Those dimples…
"I'd...I'd love to, Aofil." Muffet averts her head while putting the back of one of her hands up to her mouth. "Ahuhu~" she giggles with fluster burning hotter on her cheeks than the flowing lava snaking along around the rocky plateau. "I'll bring with me some wine and cheese."
"From the Crystal Cavern?" Aofil pries curiously.
"I'm afraid that I don't have anything as fancy as what Mettaton gave me on our first-" She clears her throat. "During Mettaton's show."
"As long as you bring your company, Muffet," Aofil assures with a smile. "That will be more than fine with me."
It's comforting saying something and feeling how much you actually mean it. Aofil can't help but smile at that feeling bubbling inside them more than the water in Muffet's hand.
Should they be worried that she's still holding it?
"Fuhuhuhu~"
Guess not.
A gentle silence falls between the two, with only the calm bobbing of the lava and the faint hum of the Lab making itself known.
"We should probably head inside," Aofil suggests after catching the silence with their ears. The heat is starting to get to them, which isn't the most ideal of situations. "It's still Frisk's birthday, after all."
Muffet nods. "It is, but first." She walks up to Aofil and tilts their head to the side. With another hand she carefully dries off some yellow painted tears and flick them away. They sizzle away as they land on some hot rocks.
Aofil blinks to get the feeling of Muffet's claw away from underneath their eyes. "Thanks."
She drags a smile and turn to head back inside the Lab. Aofil hangs back for a couple of seconds as they still feel the roughness of Muffet's finger on their eyelids.
Everything they teased Tylior about is flooding back to them now, along with a burning question more hot than anything Hotland could ever produce.
Did Aofil do it because they weren't sure how they felt about Muffet?
Now that they think about it… Yeah, that must be why. All the way starting from when Tylior first introduced Sevoltne, Aofil's been...jealous?
No, not jealous. Curious, maybe. Intrigued? With Muffet they're definitely intrigued, that's a certain. Even from the first time they met her dressed as that one anime character. Not the being trapped and scared in the dark part. More the candle lit dinner part.
She was confident in herself, confident in her craft, and still is. However, there's a part of...not vulnerability, but more...sensitivity with her patrons.
Or maybe that's just towards Aofil…
Yeah, it's just towards Aofil. From what Aofil's seen, her other patrons are more like flies to her.
Still, her confidence, laughter, fang dimples...
Guess Aofil's no better than Tylior. Boy is he gonna enjoy shooting all those things Aofil said back to them.
Oh woe, what horrible thing to realize.
And even worse!
Aofil squandered asking Muffin about…things! Maybe Muffet's favorite flowers? Favorite wine, cheese, clothes, anything?
Aofil chuckles again, this time over themselves. They've never felt life this before! This tingling sensation when thinking about someone else.
It's not only Frisk that's growing up today.
Aofil should've seen it coming, honestly. Muffet did it way before them. Although, she has more eyes in which to see, so that might explain it.
They should probably head back inside now before Muffet has to come out again and ask a second time.
The cool air of from inside the Lab breezes by Aofil as the door opens after registering their presence. They shiver for a second, shaking even their tail which they quickly drag out of the way of the closing door.
"You have some," Undyne points out while flickering her fingers in front of her face. "Sweat?"
"Yeah, sweat," Aofil answers after clearing their throat. It's still a bit soar from Hotland. "Had to step out for a moment." They turn their head to the computer screen. "Did I miss anything?"
The computer shows Frisk just about to open the large ornate doors leading out of the Ruins. They halt for a moment as the flat of their palms touch against the purple stone, and they remove their hands with a heavy sigh.
"They have their sweater," Toriel thinks out loud. "Shouldn't be the cold..."
"FRISK ALMOST FORGOT THEIR HAT!" Papyrus points out with a heroic throw of his fur covered index finger with matching claw. His proud stance has his ears flopping behind his head. "HOW CRUEL A FATE WE JUST BARELY DODGED!"
Frisk turns back down the long hallway.
After dragging a snivel from the sudden and vast temperature gap making itself known in Aofil's nose, they turn to Toriel, who meets their inquisitive look. Aofil has to drag yet another snivel before their runny nose has the yellow paint seeping into their mouth. "It's a good thing Asriel has a jacket on him. Otherwise he might catch a cold standing in the snow waiting so long."
"Asgore though," Toriel retorts with a snicker. "No, sorry, I shouldn't be laughing like this."
Oh yeah, Asgore.
Yeah, he's gonna be having some heavy snivels himself after today. Some royal, kingly snivels that are gonna be heard throughout the street. Sure did so when he had hay fever last month or so. His sneezes had the windows in Aofil's house almost shatter from the loud and intense sound. It's a miracle the rest of his family can still hear things.
"Forgot my..." Frisk explains as they pass Mettaton heading back through the basement hallway. "Forgot my hat. Sorry," they apologize sheepishly while indicating to their hat-less head.
They squeeze past him on the stairs leading up into Toriel's house with another quick apology and mount their ghostly hat just as he takes the last step up on the stairs.
"How does it fit?" Frisk asks while running their finger around the ethereal rim of their hat. Mettaton smiles, and tilts Frisk's hat just a bit to the side before retreating his hand, satisfied. He takes a bow. "Good luck in your travels, no longer small one."
Toriel's hand move up to her mouth.
"Good luck in your caretaking," Frisk bows back, "Queen Toriel."
"My child..." Toriel whispers.
Mettaton steps aside and waves Frisk ahead down the stairs. "Do you want some food to take along your journey?"
Frisk halts on the middle plateau and shift their head up, catching their hat just before it falls off. "I have a suspicion that I'll be eating soon again," they shoot over with a knowing wink.
"Oh darling child," Mettaton flaunts while leaning on his elbows on top of the guardrail. "How wise you've grown."
With a last wave, and a blown kiss from Mettaton, Frisk heads down the stairs again.
"You haven't lost a single determined step since last time, my child," Toriel whispers to the screen, her hand moving quietly from her mouth to her chest. "I'm so proud."
"Frisk is the single constant in our bundled equation," Aofil says with a nod to Toriel, who gives one back.
"They came back to me before exiting to the Underground," Toriel remembers with a reserved nostalgia weaved into her words. "I was tending the flowers when I heard their steps. It took a while for them to muster up the courage, but eventually they came and sat down next to me. I told them..."
Toriel blinks away a tear.
"I told them again to be strong. They nodded, but stayed for a bit with me to help with my gardening. We found a snail, and I recited some facts about it to them as they listened eagerly. I thought...I thought that they might've changed their mind, and had chosen to stay."
Frisk again makes their way down the long purple hallway, now with their ghostly hat slightly tilted on its side. Each echoing step they take has Toriel flinching as the sound sneaks in underneath her tucked in ears.
"They still have the same way of walking. It sounds almost exactly the same as it did back then. Hearing it now though," Toriel says under her breath. "There's no fear in their step. There's no hesitant pauses. None of the worry what awaits after they open that door." Toriel motions for everyone to lean in closer. "Listen."
A collective shuffle emerges for a split second as the costumed friends and family lean in towards the speakers.
"You hear that?" Toriel asks, dragging a proud snivel in the meantime. "That excited gait?"
Yeah, now that Toriel mentions it… It's almost as if Frisk is skipping forward. They're still walking, but it's barely so. They're strutting, excited and eager to see what's beyond the door!
"My child," Toriel repeats with her eyes glittering from the light of the computer screen. "I'm so proud to be your mother. I love you with all my soul, Frisk. Thank you for being my child, my child."
She scoffs, knocking away the thick tears that have been building up in her eyes.
"Guess I do say that phrase a lot," she chuckles. "Forgive this old Boss Monster, Frisk. She's too happy to see you this determined to have fun. It reminds her that the Underground is behind her, child, and that everything that has happened after the Barrier broke is real, and not something an old self exiled queen has imagined all these years."
Frisk stops at the ornate double door.
"A THREEFOLD CHEER FOR FRISK! HIP HIP!"
They check over their shoulder.
"Hurray!" cheers the Lab.
Frisk drags a smile.
"HIP HIP!"
And turn their head back to the door.
"Hurray!"
They put their hands on the ornate door.
"HIP HIP!"
And push it open!
"Hurray!"
