Challenge #01036-B304: After the Game is Over


Human Kid and life with the Skelebros. -- Gallifreya

[AN: I am endeavouring to keep my post-play Papyton shipping entirely to myself. Also kind'a headcannoning that Frisk is a voluntary mute]

Papyrus was so trusting. He just charged in ahead where more sensible monsters would fear to tread. Toriel and Frisk caught up with him in the middle of... well... a Scene.

Picnickers at the foot of Mount Ebott were screaming. Children cowered by their parents. Someone, soon, would level a weapon at Papyrus.

Frisk escaped Toriel's gentle hand and put themselves between Papyrus and the humans. Guarding him. They almost didn't see a strange, blue light extinguish itself in Sans' eye socket.

It made the news, of course. Monsters were free. Monsters were harmless.

Monsters were gigantic nerds.

Frisk rose to fame for all of five minutes before the Media realised that interviewing them was counter-productive. They just didn't like to talk. One of the monsters who loved Frisk wound up speaking for them. And there were so very many who loved Frisk.

And it wasn't long before the humans realised that as well. The strange little kid who rarely said a word had made so very many strange friends.

Magic flowed back into the world from Mount Ebott. The monsters used their gifts creatively, and many insisted on being able to reach their roofs so they could climb up and see the stars.

Frisk, the strange little kid who had nobody and nothing, now had a mansion with to live in with Toriel, Sans, and for reasons unknown, Papyrus. They had visitors every day. They had a fast friend in a little dinosaur kid with no arms who talked practically non-stop in comparison to the quiet Frisk.

But the sticking point was always dinner.

"I, the great Papyrus, shall craft an elegantly-cooked repast, tonight," volunteered the tall skeleton. "There's no need to bake enormous pies, Your Majesty..."

Toriel, used to this, kept working on her Cinnamon Butterscotch pie. She hummed merrily as she worked on the crust.

"Bro, give it a rest. We've had nothin' but spaghetti for the past four days. I dunno about the kid, but I'm... pasta point of no return."

Frisk giggled.

"Sans! Dinner is no laughing matter!"

"I dunno. I've seen how you cook."

"Nya-ha! I, the Great Papyrus, have learned many things from the human televisions. Including how to prepare spaghetti - the human way!"

"Um," said Toriel. "What... is in the sauce?" She left her work on the pie to peer into the pot. "Should it be that colour?"

Frisk climbed up her step-stool to peer in. She nodded in a satisfied manner.

"You see? The human approves! Nya-hahahahahaha!

"What's in it?" wondered Toriel.

"Tomatoes, garlic, basil, salt and pepper... and something called 'beef'."

"No snails?" Her Majesty made a face. It was not a happy one.

"No water sausages?" asked Sans.

Frisk was making the same face. No wonder the underground pasta had tasted so horrible.

"Never fear. I have prepared snails as an entree. The humans call it 'escargot'."

Frisk ran to hide in Toriel's skirts.

"Oh, never fear, little one. You don't have to eat them. I'm just... rather fond of them. That's all."

SLAM! "Look out nerds!" Undyne always knew how to make an entrance. "Two more nerds for the party!"

Undyne and Alphys both looked like they could strut the catwalk. Well, nervously edge their way onto the catwalk before apologising and slinking off it, in the case of Doctor Alphys. It had been this way ever since Mettaton had turned his mechanical hands to fashion design.

"There's frisk!" Undyne grinned her snaggle-toothed grin. "Show me what'cha got, human. Come at me!"

Frisk just hugged her.

Undyne made a very theatrical groan of disappointment as the others laughed. "You suck at wrestling, too."

Alphys picked Frisk up for her hug. She was getting more confident by glacial degrees. For a start, she wasn't nearly as sweaty as she had been in her lab. But then, having a dedicated snuggle-buddy and a robot hanging around who tossed out compliments like they were candy had to have an effect. "Do you have any scientific discoveries to share?"

Frisk did. They opened their mouth and showed off the loose tooth.

"Euw..." said Alphys, putting Frisk back down. "Th-that's a little... disturbing..."

"GROSS! Just what I like," cheered Undyne.

"I rushed them to the doctors when Frisk first showed me," said Toriel, back to working on her pie. "I thought they were hurt, somehow. That Frisk was ill..." A little moment of silence. Staring into memories of a distant time. She came back to the present. "But it turns out this is normal for little humans. They shed their teeth."

"Sweet," said Sans. He had managed to move from the couch to the table where Toriel was working without anyone noticing.

Dinner was noisy, of course. Papyrus made a gift of one of the many cookbooks in the library to Undyne, who read parts of it out loud in disbelief. Sans spent most of his time drinking ketchup and playing little, affectionate, finger games with Toriel. Papyrus boasted that, thanks to multitudes of cooking shows, he would soon be a true master spaghettore. Alphys talked shop, mostly, working with some human scientists on the nature of determination and how to use it to help ailing monsters.

Toriel, when she wasn't making goo-goo eyes at Sans, talked shop in her own way. Working with an integrated school had its problems, but it was worth it for Frisk. She spoke of how well Frisk was doing at her schooling. About the ruckus some parents made about Frisk's... unorthodox combat strategies.

Nobody could derail a fight like Frisk.

Frisk listened. And ate the spaghetti that was actually delicious for a change. And followed it with a small slice of their adopted mother's enormous pie.

They fell asleep in Toriel's lap, in front of the TV, as Mettaton sang one of his soulful ballads about freedom from the dark.

Life was good. Life was so very good.

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