HAPPY BIRTHDAAAAYYYY to one of my coolest and bestest friends!! <333
I really wanted to write something based on your Soriel Inktober drawings, so this was inspired by day 18 - wine and mini pizzas! (and it…somehow came out a bit more angst than I thought? I’m sorry?? >.>;; ) I hope you like it and have an absolutely wonderful and fabulous birthday!!! ^w^
***
The hilarious thing is, most people probably expect dinner with the queen to be some kind of classy affair.
“No, no!” Toriel insists, laughing so much she looks like she’s about to fall off her chair as she waves the sole survivor of the family-sized mini pizza pack semi-threateningly in Sans’ direction. “I will get it in this time! Just open your mouth a little wider!”
“Tori, I don’t think it’s gonna go any.” Sans rubs at his tomato-splattered, slightly sore jaw - it hasn’t had such a workout since his last burger-eating contest at Grillby’s, but it’s still worth it. “Might be about to fall to pizzas over here.”
“But I was getting closer!” She takes another generous slurp from her wine glass with one hand and beckons him closer with the other. “Wait, I know - come over here. For the memory of his fallen comrades, we shall not let this one go to waste!”
Toriel holds out the pizza invitingly as Sans shuffles his chair across the floor next to her; she’s not so much throwing as literally feeding it to him now, but he’s not objecting, taking the opportunity to slyly nip at the tips of her fingers to make her giggle more.
“There you go! That’s a good Sansy,” she sing-songs, the way Bun always does, and Sans winces at the name, but he doubts he could hold back the grin almost splitting his skull in two even if his bone structure would let him; she’s almost unfairly adorable like this, all soft and flushed and giggly, a rare moment when she actually gets to let her fur down. Also, he’s discovering, a really touchy drunk, though he’s not making much effort to resist as she slides her paws over his shoulders to pull him half into her lap, hugging him to her almost possessively. “Thank you.”
He chuckles, and can’t resist tugging affectionately at one of her long ears as they hang down over either side of his skull. “S’no big, Tori. I get a lot worse thrown at me most days.”
She snorts softly, her warm breath tickling the top of his skull, but then draws back a little, shifting positions so they’re eye-to-socket. “I do not mean for that. For - for everything. For protecting Frisk. For helping us all here. For staying with me…”
Her voice is suddenly thick with emotion, her eyes soft and tender and glistening with gratitude and - oh no, Sans isn’t nearly drunk enough to handle this. Not being manhandled onto Toriel’s lap - if he’s honest with himself, and he tries not to be, he’s probably a little too comfortable right where he is. But her looking at him like he’s some big hero, like he is the stars they’ve all dreamed of seeing for so long - it’s too much, it makes his soul ache, how wonderful she is and how much he doesn’t deserve it. She doesn’t know the half of what he’s done - what he hasn’t done, and how many times he hasn’t done it.
But she can’t know about the other times - those eyes, those beautiful eyes, they’ve already seen enough pain and suffering for infinite timelines. Just like all those times, he has to smile and shrug it off, pretend he doesn’t care as if, the infinitieth time, it gets any easier.
“Tori, c’mon, you don’t have to thank me for that. I mean, what kind of bonehead wouldn’t wanna stay with you?”
She gives him a grateful squeeze, but her smile slips for a moment, becoming more melancholy. “Many. Many have chosen to leave - and for that, I cannot blame them. But I always hoped, most of all, that you would stay. And perhaps even that someday, I would have the chance to…” Her tone lowers to a sultry purr as her hands slide down from his shoulders to slip under his hoodie, ghosting along his lower ribs, “show you how much I truly appreciate you.”
“Uhhh.” That has a different effect on Sans’ soul entirely, practically somersaulting out of his ribcage as Toriel nuzzles the back of his skull. “That’s, I mean, you don’t, I’m not - not that I - uh…” He’s a stuttering, hopeless mess, cheekbones blazing cyan and every molecule of his magic just wanting to melt into her touch, and yet - they can’t, he can’t let it happen like this. It’s Toriel, and she deserves so much better than some drunken…thing she’s probably going to regret in the morning - or not remember at all. She deserves so much better than Sans. “What I mean is - it’s getting kinda late, and it’s been great but y’know, I should probably go home and…shower.” It’s a half-legit excuse, at least, though he’s tempted to leave the remains of the dearly departed pizzas splattered all over his clothes and most of his skull at least long enough to get a few “cheesy” cracks in before Papyrus pops a joint.
“Ah.” He feels Toriel stiffen, and the loss of her warmth as she takes her paws off him is as immediate as Sans’ pang of regret as he wonders, for a moment, if maybe she’s not quite as drunk as she’s pretending to be. “Of course - my apologies for keeping you. Though I must confess, it is a little unsettling when you are the sensible one.”
At least she’s smiling again, soft and fond and with just the slightest hint of longing that’s a little painful to think about, even if it’s just the wine talking - so he won’t, grinning and winking back at her like everything’s normal. “Hey, you can’t spell sansible without Sans, am I right?”
“Provided one’s spelling is entirely nonsansical, then yes.”
They both laugh, and it’s a familiar, comforting feeling, like they’re back on safer ground as Sans moves back to his own chair and Toriel stands up, dusting stray pizza crumbs from her dress. “Perhaps going to bed would be a wise suggestion for the both of us. But I do hope that we might be able to - do this again sometime?”
She sounds uncharacteristically hesitant for a moment - almost shy - but her smile bright and hopeful as ever, and realistically, even if he’d been the kind of bonehead to want to say no, Sans never stood a chance.
“Are you kidding? We’re so doing this again - you owe me, like, twenty pizzas,” he informs her, failing at exasperation almost as much as Toriel does at looking apologetic when she giggles guiltily. “Also, next time, it’s gonna be your turn to catch.”
Her face lights up, relief as much as mischief written across her features as she nods vigorously. “Oh, yes, absolutely! My body, as I believe the youth say, is ready.”
Toriel winks, and Sans’ soul might do another triple flip jump, but it’s okay because she’s happy, and they’re still good buds, and that, he’s almost drunk enough to convince himself, is all he needs. It’s enough to see her smile, to hear her laugh, to let her assault him with pizza pockets as many nights as she wants because it’s still the best he’s eaten, the hardest he’s laughed, the safest and the most real he’s felt in too many timelines to remember.
For now, what they have - whatever they are - it’s enough.
Written by @diamondsareapearlsbestfriend
ObsessedKatie’s Response:
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!
OMG RARITY!!!!!!!!!!!
I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU ACTUALLY WROTE THIS FOR ME!!!!!! Â
I might cry. I’m gonna cry. I’m crying. Waaaaaaaaah!!!! It’s beautiful, and sweet, and fluffy, and amazing, and omg I love it!!!!!
Thank you so so so so so so so so much, Rarity!!!!!!
You’re one of my coolest, awesomest friends too!! LOVE YOU! <3
To see the drawing this fic is based off of CLICK HERE
