Ao3 writing dump

            “Not to worry, Miss Toriel! I’m always more than happy to take Flowey for the day,” Papyrus beamed, posing heroically while puffing out his chest and holding Flowey in one hand.

            Flowey groaned. Although Papyrus was the most interesting out of all of his sitters and he generally preferred his company, he wasn’t in the mood for the boisterous skeleton. Not when he was feeling so spiteful and sour.

            Toriel gave Flowey a crossed look and folded her arms across her chest. “I better not hear of any more poor behavior. Be good and we’ll talk more about your attitude when you come home.”

            “Yeah, yeah, whatever. See ya,” Flowey grumbled, waving a leaf. Once he and Papyrus exited her home, Flowey rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue at the front door. “So, what boring punishment did Toriel tell you to put me through? Cleaning dishes? Laundry duty? Yard work?”

            “Wowie! I didn’t realize you were such a patch of crabgrass, Flowery!”

            “Why can’t you get it through your thick skull, idiot? It’s Flowey!”

            “Hm, perhaps you’re more like a crabapple tree today. The human crabapple trees can produce irritating pollen to those unfortunately affected after all,” Papyrus contemplated, tapping his chin. He opened the passenger door to his red convertible and gently placed Flowey on the seat. With great care, he secured the seat belt to keep him in place.

            “What are you getting at, huh?” Flowey spat.

            “Your meanness levels are at the crabby level. See?” He pulled out a sheet of paper with Frisk’s drawing. “This was you the other day when your meter was full, and this is you today!” Papyrus reached into the glove box and pulled out a black sharpie. He drew a thin line a third from the top of Flowey’s outline and wrote “CRABBY”.

            Flowey screamed in anguish upon realizing the puns, then reached for the paper with his vines. That drawing was a complete mockery of him and he wanted it gone. “Argh! Give me that!”

            Papyrus held the paper out of his reach and returned the sharpie to the glove box. “I say this is a tremendous improvement from the other day,” Papyrus declared, shutting the passenger door and rounding to the driver’s side. Once he got in the driver’s seat, he pocketed the paper. “Are you ready to go?”

            “You mean to be punished with chores?” Flowey glared. At this point he felt like the whole world was conspiring against him.

            “Hm, while I could have you pick up all of Sans’ socks so that the house would be closer to a wonderful utopia instead of careening towards the boundless levels of entropy I constantly have to combat…”

            Flowey shuddered and wretched at the thought.

            “Sans must learn to pick up his own socks. I have a much more adventurous idea in mind.”

            At first relieved at avoiding the landmine of socks that Sans was known to leave behind, Flowey squinted at Papyrus with suspicion. The skeleton’s brand of adventure ranged from the most organized of puzzles to the horrifically dangerous of obstacles. He knew how Papyrus adored flame and fire, and recalled a particularly perilous time Flowey was compelled to navigate one of his maze puzzles all in an effort to befriend him. Erring on the side of caution and skepticism was preferable. “What kind of adventure?” Flowey asked flatly.

            “It’s a dastardly surprise!” Papyrus declared. He started the car and drove.

            Well, that wasn’t illuminating. He knew how difficult it was to get Papyrus to spill his secrets, and he wasn’t in the mood to pry them from his bones. Instead, he resorted to sulking in his seat with the wind blowing against his petals and rustling his leaves. Certainly there would be nothing interesting in store for him today, and he despised boring days like this. It was such a waste. More than likely Toriel told Papyrus about his ill behavior, but it wasn’t like it was his fault! If she had kept her promise, there would have been no need to be upset.

            “It’s nice to be outside, even if you’re a prickly pear, don’t you think?

            Flowey snapped out of his thoughts, then made a face at the pun, though he didn’t have it in him to make a fuss about it now. “I guess,” he grumbled. He was too low in his seat to see the road and surrounding areas, so there would be no hints at their destination. Even if he wanted to stretch his vines to read the road signs, the wind blasting in his face was enough of a nuisance to deter him. Clearly it wasn’t to the brothers’ house since the drive was taking too long. 

            Papyrus glanced at him briefly then grinned brighter.

            “What are you looking at, bonehead?”

            “Your meanness levels! They are much lower.”

            Flowey had to admit, he did feel calmer. Sunlight always improved his mood, and it was nice to get away from Toriel at least. They always fed off of each other's agitation when they didn’t see eye to eye. Wherever they were heading, it certainly was better than being stuck with that old woman.

            “Aaand we’re here! Behold! Our adventure awaits!”

            Flowey unbuckled his seatbelt and extended his vines to lift himself and peer over the door. “Papyrus,” Flowey began flatly, “this is a parking lot.”

            “Not just any parking lot, my little golden friend!” He moved to scoop Flowey up and hopped out of the car. With a quick press of a button on his key fob, the convertible locked with a chirp.

            Flowey hummed with suspicion and skeptically scanned the cars sporadically parked throughout the lot. It was only when his eyes fell upon the large sign to the entrance of a facility that his face lit up. “This isn’t a prank, right?” he asked, pulling back his hopes.

            “I do love the highest quality of japes, but this is not one of them!” Papyrus said, marching them both forward.

            “You actually brought me to the zoo?! But what about Toriel?”

            “You try hard, Flowey, and I believe it’s important to recognize when you try your best. I know some days it’s hard to not be, well, Flowey-like, and sometimes your best may not be very good on a particular day, but trying is better than not trying at all! And it would be a shame for no one to recognize that. So! If no one else will see to it! I will be the one to acknowledge your efforts! Because your efforts are important and worthwhile!”

            Flowey stared ahead in stunned surprise as they walked through the doors, past the gift shops, snack stands, and out to the first exhibit. Papyrus always had a way of shutting him up. Just when he thought he had a sly idea or remark, and had everything all figured out, the skeleton’s endless optimism and steadfast belief in everyone’s ability to do good would apply to him too. Papyrus somehow knew what he needed the most when no one else didn’t, and that included himself. It sickened Flowey that not even his mother from his former life could figure him out. “You idiot,” Flowey finally muttered, head hanging low.

            A penguin jumping into the pool and cutting through the water caught the flower monster’s eye. All the birds he had ever known knew how to fly, and he remembered how Chara back then insisted that there were flightless ones. Birds that could swim effortlessly, but only muster a waddle on land. Birds with long necks and as tall as a person, but could kill a predator king with a single kick. And birds that walked on knives and could slice your throat in a blink of an eye.

            Chara would tell stories of all sorts of creatures and they designed a game where they would describe a beast and his former self would try to draw how he thought it looked. Everytime Chara would laugh, tease him for drawing the animals wrong, but would never show how the animal actually looked with their own drawing no matter how much his former self begged. It kept his imagination alive and made him wish for the surface ever more so he could see such creatures with his best friend someday.

            He wanted to see them all.

            “Where are the reptiles?” Flowey asked, turning to face Papyrus. “I want to see the snakes.” He made a scary looking face in anticipation and flicked his tongue out to mimic the animal.

            “At the reptile house,” Papyrus said brightly, turning to start his march.

            “After that I want to see if they have birds that walk on knives!”

            “Birds that walk on knives? How exciting! I do believe I saw such a beastie last time we were here. Oh! You’ll like the hippos! Their tongues look like brains!”

            “Gross!” Flowey cackled. “Oh, we also have to see a giraffe! I don’t know what that looks like, but I hear it has a neck like a snake’s body and it is covered in polygons, but it can also kill you with one leg while headbanging to heavy metal.”

            Papyrus ran from exhibit house to exhibit house with Flowey in his arms all the while the flower monster cackled maniacally with pure glee. There were so many new things to see! It had been so long since he last felt this elated and mesmerized. At the walk-in aviary, the birds swooped down to get a closer look. The toucans in particular eyed him with curiosity. Flowey made sure to keep his vines at the ready should one get too close. The butterfly exhibit, on the other hand, felt much safer. There were no aerial bombardments after all, though he didn’t appreciate the insects landing on his face constantly.

            As it turned out, the petting zoo wasn’t the best place for a flower considering how hungry the goats were. Being at ground level was a dangerous excursion as Flowey sat along the fence while hungry eyes peered at him through the wooden slats. It was much safer to have Papyrus feed them pellets in his stead. Every now and then he’d have to shoo the goats away from one of his leaves as the animal stuck its tongue through the gaps.

            “Ugh, gross!” Flowey shrieked when they entered the llama pen. Papyrus held the flowerpot against his side while his other hand held a bowl of vegetables and food pellets. The llamas stared down one another and began a spitting frenzy for dominance. “Is this what they do?!”

            “This is what they did last time!” Papyrus grimaced, sharing in his disgust. “But at least they’re courteous of their guests! They haven’t even tried to spit at us! How polite.” He extended the bowl for the llamas to enjoy, though the spitting feud intensified.

            Flowey watched the spray and droplets fly through the air in dismay. “But why is this a thing?! This I could have lived without.”

            “You’re the one that wanted to go in,” Papyrus reminded him.

            “I know, and I regret it!” This wasn’t the first time Flowey’s curiosity left little to be desired upon discovery. He marked down the llama as an animal to definitely avoid if he should ever encounter one outside a zoo.

            Once safely outside, refreshments marked a much needed break in their afternoon. Flowey sat on the picnic table eyeing the tiny pink and blue spheres of ice cream in his plastic dish. “Are you sure this is ice cream?” Flowey asked, squinting at the treat’s strange appearance. He shoveled the spheres around with his spoon and scooped some up for closer inspection.

            “That’s what Frisk said!”

            “But why does it look like this?” He couldn’t help but feel skeptical about this strange form of ice cream. Chara certainly never mentioned this before.

            “They’re flash frozen with liquid nitrogen!”

            “Liquid what? Oh, nevermind.” He shoveled the spoonful into his mouth, then nodded his head slowly as he accepted the treat. He had to admit, it was satisfying, but most of all it was different and new. It was fun.

            Papyrus shoveled his own bowl, though his were an assorted rainbow of spheres. “The name is fitting. Dippin’ Dots. But how is it the ice cream of the future if this is the present? Or did the inventor see the timeline and steal the idea to bring it to their present and thus their future? And if that were the case, how would that change the future? How far into the future were these Dippin’ Dots invented? And if these are the future, how come no other ice cream are like Dippin’ Dots if bringing the future to the present should influence said future?”

            Flowey held his head with his leaves. “You’re giving me a headache, stupid,” he grumbled.

            “Are you sure that’s not the brain freeze?”

            Flowey groaned, then shoveled another spoonful into his mouth. For several moments he was quiet as he contemplated their day. Despite the fun he had on their adventure, there was still something missing. “Hey, Papyrus, could you buy me a chocolate bar?”

            Papyrus gave Flowey a broad grin. “What’s the magic word, Flowery?”

            Flowey made a face at the name. He hated whenever Papyrus mispronounced his name in order to get him to be polite. But it worked every time. “Ugh, fine. Papyrus, could you please buy me a chocolate bar?”

            “Why, yes, Flowey, I would be more than happy to buy you a chocolate bar! I’ll see if they have any of this brand I tried the other day. As you know, my standards are very high, and it is one of the finest I have ever had.”

            When he returned, Papyrus placed the chocolate bar in front of Flowey and returned to his seat. Flowey, however, only stared at the purple wrapper with the logo of a mountainscape and a purple and white spotted cow. He could never find the brand of chocolate Chara liked, but he doubted they’d turn their nose up at any brand as long as it was to their standards. Flowey chuckled to himself, remembering how Chara called bad chocolate a crime against the universe. “Thanks, Papyrus.”

            Perplexed, Papyrus watched Flowey continue to stare at the chocolate. “Aren’t you going to eat it,” Papyrus asked.

            “I’m saving it for later. For now, I just want to hold on to it.” Flowey said. 

            “Smells alright. How’s it lookin’, bro?” Sans asked.

            “Sans! You’re just in time to try my newest endeavor into the world of human recipes! Although I didn’t have carrots, so I replaced them with crabapples. I’m also hoping using stoic onions instead of human onions won’t change the flavors too much. Maybe a bit on the solemn side, but that’s okay! I did add pumpkin rings to give a bit more color to the soup. Oh, Sans, I have found a new favorite pasta shape the Underground didn’t have. Isn’t it cute? It looks just like a little brain!” Papyrus, beaming excitedly, plucked an uncooked shape from the ripped plastic packaging and held it up.

            “You’re right, it does,” Sans chuckled. “Eat enough of those and you’ll become a bone-a fide brainiac .”

            “Oh, you…” Papyrus groaned, tossing the radiatori back. He turned to grab the ladle and scoop out a spoonful of the bubbling soup. “Here, try some. Tell me what else my masterful creation needs!”

            “I’m sure it tastes soup-er, Paps, but I actually gotta head out to Toriel’s.”

            “Oh! Is it that time already?” Papyrus, ignoring the lazy pun, returned the spoonful to the large pot and craned his neck so he could look at the kitchen clock. “Well, you mustn't be late! You can’t neglect your duties even though you’re no longer a sentry. Not on the surface! I won’t let you!” He capped the pot with a lid and a billow of steam clouded the glass.

            “You’re absolutely right, bro,” Sans winked. Phew, another bullet dodged. It wasn’t that Papyrus was a terrible cook. Sans believed wholeheartedly in his brother’s ability to improve in his cooking adventures. He just needed the proper guidance, one he believed Toriel could provide. He had asked her before, but things were too complicated with the humans to spare time for cooking lessons. However, she had promised that when things settled down he would be the first to hear about it.

            “Shoo, shoo, you lazy thing!” Papyrus said, grabbing a rag from the counter and whipping it at his brother.

            “Alright, alright, I’m headin’ out!” Sans chuckled as he backed away. “Just make sure to stir the pot , otherwise you’ll be in for a soup-rise .”

            “Nyeh?” Papyrus said, squinting hard at the mysterious pun. Behind him the soup began to boil over with bubbling broth hitting the stove in a fury of sizzles and hisses.

            “Bro, I’m sayin’ even alphabet soup can spell disaster if unattended to.”

            Papyrus wheezed a gasp. “Oh, no! My beautiful soup!” he shouted in horror as he turned to the stove.

            Sans considered staying a minute longer as moral support, but another whip from the washcloth settled that thought. Papyrus refused to be the reason for Sans’ tardiness. 

            He took one step out of the kitchen and shortcutted onto Toriel’s front porch. When the cut to black lifted, he saw the trees casting long shadows against her front door, making silhouettes against the orange sun rays. Glancing upwards, Sans noted the clear skies and grinned. He could never admit this to his brother, but fitting in on the Surface was becoming a difficult challenge. Despite his laid back attitude, and his notorious ability to charm and gain friends with ease, he felt entirely out of place. He had had a constant and faithful role in the underground’s various communities, but to branch out into a new niche? Well, he found himself stuck in a rut. Still, finally being able to see the night sky was what he looked forward to on every cloudless night. That’s what brought him the most comfort these days.

            Shuffling over, he rapped his knuckles against the door, then gave two steady knocks. He didn’t have to wait long to be greeted by his dear friend.

            “Who is there?” Toriel teased as she opened the door. Her formal royal robes sparkled in the twilight.

            “Radio,” Sans winked.

            “Radio who?” Toriel giggled in anticipation.

            “Radio not, here I am.”

            Toriel welcomed him with a hearty laugh and ushered him inside. “Oh, Sans, I needed that. You have no idea how much I have been stressing over this meeting. I want to make a positive impression with the humans. Is this too much?” She motioned to her formal robes.

            “Glad I could provide a few laughs,” Sans chuckled with a shrug. “But yeah, I imagine the responsibility must be making you bone tired. You look fine though. My bro always says it’s better to overdress to impress than under.”

            “How very true,” Toriel said, patting his shoulder and warmly smiling. “Well, my friend, you have done me a huge favor and taken a much needed load off of my shoulders for tonight.”

            “Eh, no big deal. Happy to help.”

            Toriel turned to the stairwell and called. “Frisk! Sans is here. I’ll be on my way out soon.”

            There was a brief pause before thunderous and excited footsteps came running down the stairs. Frisk jumped from the last step and landed a tight embrace on Sans.

            “Oof, hey kid. I’m excited to see you too.” Sans wheezed, ruffling their hair.

            Frisk pulled away. “Sorry,” they signed while beaming, excitement still in their hands. 

            Toriel smiled softly at the two of them, then cleared her throat. “Alright, you two. I must be off. But before I go, pie and cookies are in the kitchen if you need a snack. Sans, dinner for Frisk is in the fridge. I put instructions on how long to warm it. Bedtime is no later than 10.”

            “But I want to stay up until you return,” Frisk signed with a frown. “I won’t be able to sleep until I know what happened at the meeting!”

            “My child, you need your sleep,” Toriel said gently. “There is nothing to worry about.”

            “Heh, Tori, something tells me they won’t take no for an answer. They’re gonna have the same amount of energy as Papyrus on this matter.” Sans shot Frisk a look of comradery. Okay, maybe equating Frisk’s energy to Papyrus’ was a gross exaggeration, but he knew a restless kid when he saw one and such a kid could be hard to distract. There would be no early bedtime, that was for sure.

            “Oh. Oh dear. Perhaps you are right. These are exciting times indeed,” Toriel said, heavily sighing while patting Frisks’ head. “Okay, just this once you can stay up if you want to.”

            Frisk raised their arms in triumph and hugged Toriel tightly around the middle.

            “Alright, alright,” she laughed, “I must be going now. Be good you two.”

            “Actually, Tori, since Frisk can stay up tonight, I was wondering. It’s gonna be a clear night. What do you say I take them over to the planetarium? They can teach me a thing or two about those constellations and stuff. It’ll also be educational for Frisk. After dinner and a slice of pie, of course,” Sans said, adding a wink.

            “Oh!” Toriel paused in thought, then looked between the two of them. The way Frisk’s eyes sparkled at that idea was something she couldn’t say no to. And it would be educational, a quality she always valued as an aspiring teacher. “Frisk, I’ll allow it if you promise me one thing. Please, stay close to Sans, will you not?”

            “I promise!” Frisk signed ecstatically.

            “Ah, so it’s settled then. After dinner and a slice of pie, you two may head over to the planetarium. Call me should you need anything. And don’t stay out too late. I expect you to be home before I return.” Toriel instructed.

            “Awesome! Thanks mom!” Frisk waved as Toriel  moved to step out the door.

            “No problem, Tori. You got nothin’ to worry about.”

After dinner and butterscotch pie, which Sans always thought was better than the last one Toriel had baked, he looked at Frisk from across the table and gave them his signature lazy grin. “You ready to see some stars and planets, kid?”

            “You bet,” Frisk signed. They stood and whisked away the plates to the sink, then hopped back over to their friend. “Are we taking a shortcut there?”

            “Safest way to travel, and Toriel wants us to be safe, right?”

            Frisk snickered, then nodded in agreement.

            Sans chuckled as he stood. He pushed in his chair before taking Frisk’s hand. “You ready?” A quick and enthusiastic nod was all he needed. One step and the curtain of black surrounded them until it gave way to the breezy and chilly night scene outside the city’s planetarium. “What do you think, kid?”

            Frisk gasped, spinning in place to take in the lights illuminating the front of the neighboring public museum and the sign that welcomed the planetarium’s visitors. The parking lot was mostly empty, which was a relief for both of them. Less crowds to deal with meant more time they could spend with the telescopes. Sans had to make a mental note not to ink the eyepieces. After all, he did want to visit the planetarium again.

            Once they were inside and on the upper deck, Frisk towed Sans behind them and examined the various telescopes. “Which one should we look at first?” they signed excitedly.

            “I don’t know, kid. How about we find someone that works here. We can ask them about showing us some stars first.”

            “Good idea!”

            “Hi, welcome to the Ebott Planetarium. My name is Everett, ” a thin, older man called as he walked over. He adjusted his glasses as he looked them both over while scratching his peppered hair. “Ah, our first monster guest, how exciting! What can I help you with?”

            “We want to see some stars and then planets!” Frisk signed.

            Sans chuckled. “We were interested in seeing some stars. Maybe a red giant and then a few planets afterwards,” Sans translated.

            “You have come to the right place. Follow me!” Everett motioned them over to one of the larger telescopes. He took a moment to look through the eyepiece and adjusted it, then pulled up a step stool for Frisk “There you go, should be in view.”

            “Thanks. You first, kid.” Sans said, nudging them. 

            Frisk skipped to the step stool and peered through the eyepiece. They couldn’t help but gasp and marvel at the hazy, bright, scarlet dot. They tugged on Sans’ sleeve once they were finished and stepped down.

            “That’s Betelgeuse, the red giant in the constellation Orion. All the other main stars are blue giants.”

            “Orion the Hunter, right?” Sans asked while taking his turn.

            “That’s the one!”

            “The kid here is gonna have to teach me all the human constellations. I only know of monster ones.”

            Everett raised his eyebrows at that. “You’ll have to tell me some of those sometime. We can update our constellation activity guidebook we have for the school groups that come through here.”

            Sans pulled away from the telescope and raised a brow at their tour guide. “Ya don’t say,” he said in mild surprise.

            “Kids love mythology in constellations, and we’re always trying to include the stories of them from other cultures. Besides, it’s interesting to hear how other parts of the world view our shared night sky. Take the Pleiades for example, also known as the Seven Sisters.” Everett craned his neck upwards in search of the star cluster, then pointed. “See those bright stars that are grouped tightly together? In some mythology, the Seven Sisters are forever chased after by Orion the Hunter. In Thai culture, they are the souls of a mother hen and her little chicks immortalized in the night sky by the angels so they could remain together after their untimely demise. In the past the Pleiades were even used as a sort of eye exam. Depending on how many stars you could see with the naked eye, it was supposed to tell how good your vision was.” Everett softly chuckled at that last fact.

            “That’s so cool,” Frisk signed, their eyes wide with amazement. “I didn’t know about the Seven Sisters being chickens too.”

            “Kid says that’s neat,” Sans translated. “I bet they’d be interested in one of your activity guidebooks.”

            “Of course! Let me go grab one now before I forget.”

            Sans and Frisk watched Everett depart, then turned to look at each other.

            “So, what do you think?” Frisk signed, grinning with a glimmer in their eyes.

            “S’cool place. Didn’t know what to expect, but that guy seems friendly enough.”

            “And?”

            Sans stared at Frisk for a moment. They clearly had something in mind, and they were clever enough to know how he felt about his place on the Surface. Still, he couldn’t fathom what they were up to. “I dunno what you mean, kid.”

            “I mean, you could maybe work here temporarily if you asked nicely. You like space stuff, right? You’re smart and it’ll give you something to do. I bet Papyrus would be happy for you.”

            “Heh, I don’t know, Frisk. It’s a nice thought, but maybe we should just be visitors first before thinking of something more permanent.”

            “Why’s that?” Frisk frowned.

            Sans was quiet for several moments. He turned his attention to the telescopes and his smile faded at the corners. “S’nothin’. Just feels like I’m gonna wake up at some point and this will all have been a dream. Having lived in the Underground for so long, I still can’t believe we’re here.” Behind his chuckle, there was a darker side to his mood that he hoped Frisk couldn’t see. They saw it once before when he was a lost soul, but he hoped they would never have to see a sliver of him like that again.

            “But it’s not a dream, I promise! We’re looking at stars together, and soon we’re going to see Jupiter!” Frisk insisted, then tugged on his sleeve.

            “Jupiter, eh?”

            Frisk nodded.

            Everett returned with a small, staple bound activity book. “Here you go, little astronomer.”

            “Thank you,” Frisk signed and immediately began flipping through the pages.

            Everett beamed at Frisk’s enthusiasm. “You said you wanted to see a planet next, right?” Everett asked, turning to Sans.

            Frisk pulled the book from their face and raised their hand. They jumped to further signal their agreement.

            “Heh, kid wants to see Jupiter,” Sans grinned.

            “Good choice! Follow me.”

            Marching after him and half listening to Everett spit facts about Jupiter in rapid fire succession, Sans nudged Frisk’s arm. “Promise me this ain’t a dream, Pleiades? Cus I gotta say, I’m star-struck,” Sans teased.

            “Are you sure you don’t want to join?” Frisk signed. They slid off their bed and slipped their backpack on.

            “For the last time, I don’t want to join the stupid picnic!” he grumbled while flailing his leaves in frustration.

            Frisk paused, frowning in concern. “Is everything okay? You seem more...Flowey-like than usual.”

            Flowey sighed heavily and muttered under his breath. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I just want to stay home. That’s all.”

            “Well, if that’s really what you want...”

            “Frisk, we’re leaving in 2 minutes!” Toriel called from downstairs.

            “I’ll try to save you some pie, Flowey. Do you need anything before we go?” they asked, approaching him.

            Flowey turned in his pot and contemplated for a moment. He’d have the house to himself for the majority of the day, which was perfect for what he now wanted to do to relieve some of his frustration. “Just take me to the kitchen,” he sighed, exasperated.

            After several goodbyes and reminders to be good, Flowey was finally alone on the kitchen table. He looked at the bowl of apples sitting on the counter and then to the still warm oven. Toriel had meant to bake a cinnamon apple pie for the picnic, but her butterscotch pie was too loved and missed. It wasn’t that he disliked that pie. On the contrary, it was one of his favorites. Well, a favorite of his past life, and that was the problem. There were too many memories associated with that particular sweet flavor, memories that were faded while he still clearly remained.

            “Still sulking over me?” a voice teasingly whispered.

            Nearly jumping out of his flowerpot, Flowey whirled around. He narrowed his eyes as he scanned the kitchen. “Who’s there?” When no response came, he gritted his teeth and grumbled. “If this is Sans playing a trick, you’ve got another thing coming!”

            “Boo!” the voice said as a translucent form suddenly appeared in front of Flowey’s face.

            The flowerpot wobbled from Flowey’s startled movements and almost tipped over. “What the—?! Chara?!” he spluttered in disbelief.

            Chara’s ghostly form bent over with hands clutching at their stomach as they laughed heartily. “You should see the look on your face!”

            Flowey’s face flushed as he pouted. “Shut up! How was I supposed to know you were still around? I thought you were gone for good!”

            Chara giggled and gave a smug smile. “I’ve always been around. It’s just better to be unseen when everyone you care about has moved on. It’s nice to see from Frisk’s view that everyone is happy now. Well, almost everyone.”

            Flowey stared at them, uncertain what to say. He should have been happy to see Chara again, but all he tasted was bitterness and that frustrated him even more. 

            “You know, Frisk sent me. They were worried about you.”

            Flowey gave a half-hearted laugh. “Of course. I should have known you being here is because of Frisk.” He extended his vines and reached for the cupboards where Toriel kept her recipe books. Plucking a heavy book from the shelf, he laid it out in front of him and paged through it.

            “So, why didn’t you go to the picnic?” Chara asked.

            “I wasn’t in the mood,” Flowey spat.

            “But there’s more to it than that.”

            Flowey paused on the page for cinnamon apple pie filling, then reached for ingredients and various kitchenware. “I didn’t want to eat Toriel’s gross pie. It’s too sweet,” he said impatiently.

            Chara nodded knowingly.

            Despite the expanse of time since they last saw each other, neither of them needed to explain to the other. Making pie was a family activity, but the family they left behind was no longer the same. That fateful attempt at making a butterscotch pie was one of the beginning steps that set their tragedy in motion. Replacing cups of butter with buttercups on accident was a heavier mistake than they had realized. It poisoned their nostalgia along with the pie.

            “Can I help?” Chara asked, pointing to the recipe book. “I can read off the directions.”

            “Do what you want.” Flowey grumbled, though if someone had to help he didn’t mind it being Chara. Being the only one corporeal, Flowey handled the ingredients while diligently listening to Chara’s directions, though he wasn’t shy to call them an idiot whenever they tried to fool him with a benign trick. Of course, it was all in good fun.

            After the pie crust had been made, the ingredients poured into the pan, and the pie was placed in the oven, Chara and Flowey sat on the floor together. They admired how the crust turned a delicious golden brown.

            “I think I have a new favorite pie now,” Chara grinned.

            “Yeah, cinnamon apple pie is way better than butterscotch,” Flowey said, making a face.

            Chara giggled before falling silent for a moment. “I should have listened to you back then.”

            Flowey faced Chara, though he didn’t respond.

            “For the longest time I wanted to tell you how sorry I was for everything.”

            “Blegh! Don’t get all gushy on me now. Wait, that was a pun!”

            Chara shot a teasing look at him and laughed at his disgust. “I’m serious though. You weren’t afraid to tell me off when I tried to trick you with the cooking directions. You really handled making that pie. You practically didn’t need me. It makes me reflect on the once timid brother I had, and now I don’t have to worry so much about you.”

            Brother. Flowey hadn’t heard that in a long while. Was he still a sibling to Chara? He had made up his mind to never consider his scattered family a part of his identity, but that thought never pertained to Chara.             

            “You were a great brother, Azzy. I wish I could have been better.” Chara said softly.

            “It’s Flowey!” he grumbled, prickling at his old nickname.

            “And you still are a great brother, Flowey,” Chara said in acknowledgement.

            Flowey froze as he stared at Chara’s beaming face. They saw him as a sibling, but not the version of him from a past life, but how he was now, flaws and all.

            “And now we have a new memory together with our new favorite pie! No one can take that away from us, not even ourselves.”

            “Heh, yeah,” Flowey said quietly, while wiping a vine at the corner of his eye. He could deal with this memory even if Chara disappeared again after this day.

            “Aw, is my brother crying?” Chara teased.