Fictober 2024

(Petty) Squabbles

Universe: Swapfell

MC: Asgore

Genre: Fluff

Warnings:
-OOC
-Barely edited
-Brief mention of death

A/N:

I'm honestly not completely satisfied with this, but oh well. Hope you enjoy!
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Asgore starts to build up a light sweat as two outraged gazes meet him, one silver and the other blood red.

"Well?"

Chara's stern voice cuts into the brief silence, Firsk tilting their head with their hands on their hips. Chara's arms are crossed, glare sharpening at his silence.

"I, um..."

Asgore doesn't really want to say it, but he finds it rather stupid that of all things they're arguing about-

"I think they named it white chocolate for a reason? It is still made from a part of the cocoa tree, correct?"

Frisk immediately smirks, head righted and tilted upwards as Chara lets out a frustrated noise. "It doesn't count!"

The whine makes Asgore wince, an apologetic look on his face. He's still very confused over why they're arguing about this. It is already categorised as chocolate, no? Or is he missing something? The bewildered look that's no doubt on his face does not soften the glare Chara shoots at him.

"Fine! You stick with your stupid ideas!"

They stomp away to their room, shoulder checking his previously dead (he still has no idea how they're alive, but he's very thankful) child on the way. Frisk doesn't really look offended. In fact, their grin grows.

They start to sign to him.

'Don't worry! They're just pissed no one agrees with their opinion!'

Asgore has a feeling the word 'idiotic' is heavily implied near the end of the second sentence, but he doesn't voice his suspicion. He just gives Frisk a small amused smile, patting their head after they gently pat his hand. Their grin widens before they skip away to their own room, cheer in every step.

Asgore shakes his head. He'll make it up to Chara tomorrow, somehow. He's sure they'd like having brownies for dessert. He's heard them mention them three times this past week and has been meaning to try out a new recipe.

His smile grows. Yes, that sounds wonderful.
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"How do you like your dessert, Chara?"

Asgore smiles at the grumpy ambassador. Chara scoffs, turning their head to the side. His smile twitches.

Well, that's just bad manners! But he supposes he can cut them some slack. They are still in stripes, after all.

"I don't know. Why don't you ask Frisk?" They set their fork down, crossing their arms with a pout on their face. Frisk looks up in curiosity at the mention of their name, head tilted in confusion. "Don't listen to me, listen to them!"

(Okay, Chara may be acting a bit childish, but whatever! It's their fault for being stupid.

White chocolate should've never been called chocolate. It's an abomination, atrocious, just a knock-off clone of milk chocolate that tastes way too sugary even for them! At least dark chocolate is just more concentrated and less sweet, but still made from the same basic things as milk chocolate.

They could go on about this for hours, but they don't think anyone in this room will appreciate their clearly superior opinion!)

Asgore heaves a sigh, scratching at his cheek as he wonders what to do now. He feels guilt hit him when Chara flinches and their shoulders draw in.

He must have a weird look on his face, judging by the way Chara's lips twitch upwards when they glance at him before their face scrunches up, nose twitching. Frisk laughs at the display the two of them are putting on, causing Chara to turn towards them and scowl.

"Shut up!"

Frisk only laughs harder. Chara rolls their eyes, muttering under their breath. Asgore sweatdrops.

Chara glances at him again, face twisting  before they sigh heavily and give him a weird look. Frisk looks on, silent, but still clearly amused. There's some underlying emotion there as well that Asgore can't quite identify.

(It's amusing, Frisk thinks, how similar the two are sometimes. Their guilty looks, the way they sigh, their occasional disappointed stares. The tilt of their smile, the way they sometimes talk...

It's fascinating, really.)

"Oh, finnnnneeee! I like it. Happy?"

There's a sarcastic bite to their question, but their cheeks glow brighter and they avoid his gaze, so Asgore doesn't take them seriously. His face softens as he happily pats their head, turning to ask Frisk the same question which they answer enthusiastically.

If anyone back from the war saw him now they'd be heavily confused over his behaviour, but Asgore doesn't particularly care. They're behind closed doors, after all.

And, he supposes, he can get used to being openly affectionate what with the different age and them being on the surface.
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A/N:

I'm admittedly looking forward to writing the next one!

Next: Underfell, Papyrus