Soriel 30 Day OTP Challenge (Oneshots Collection)

Day Three: The Reveal

prompt: "When your OTP confessed their feelings. Or were their feelings originally a secret until someone else intervened?"

***

"Mom?"

"Yes, my child?"

"Do you like Sans?"

"Why, of course I do, dear," Toriel answered, as she continued stirring the big, delicious-smelling pot on the stove. "He is one of my dearest friends. Now, where did I put those spices?"

Somehow, Frisk knew she'd say that. "No, Mom," they said patiently, "I mean – do you like him? Like, as more than just a friend?"

"Hmm?" There was a long silence, and then their mother let out a suspiciously nervous giggle, the spoon clanking against the pot as she stirred more vigorously. "Why...why on earth would you ask that, my child?"

"Aww, you do!" Frisk broke out into a grin, bouncing excitedly up and down in their chair – this was just so perfect. "I knew it. When are you going to tell him? I could help – you could write a note, or..."

"Frisk." Finally, Toriel turned away from the stove, and Frisk fell silent as she fixed them with her 'that's enough' look. "I am pleased that you have such an active imagination, but Sans and I are just friends. There will not be any notes or grand declarations of love. Certainly not from me, at least. In any case..." She resumed her cooking, now stirring so fast it reminded Frisk of Undyne. "Not that it need concern you, but I am far too old for such things. Someone as sweet and funny as Sans can surely..."

Frisk flashed her a knowing smile as they caught their mother's eye over her shoulder, wiggling their eyebrows; Toriel scoffed at them and shook her head, but they'd already spotted the blush creeping up on her cheeks. "Well, he can certainly find better than a silly old lady like me. I'm sure he will settle down with a nice young monster some day."

"Mom, you're not too old!" Frisk actually had no idea how old either of them were, or if monster years even worked like human years – but they knew it didn't matter, when two people cared about each other. Toriel deserved to be happy, and Frisk had never seen her or Sans look happier than when they were cracking awful jokes together. "Sans doesn't want a young monster, anyway – he wants you. And there's nobody nicer than you."

"Oh, Frisk!" Toriel's face softened into a smile at that, as she stepped away from the stove to ruffle Frisk's already-messy hair, planting a loving kiss on the top of their head. "You are as sweet as pie. Speaking of which, dinner is almost ready. You should go and wash up."

"Yes, Mom." Frisk knew better than to argue, but they lingered in the doorway for a few seconds anyway. "Hey, you should say that to Sans, you know! He'd love – "

"Now, Frisk."

"Okay, I'm going!"

But, as Frisk bounded up the stairs, a genius plan was already beginning to form in their head.

***

"Saaaans?" Frisk sing-songed, in their best 'I'm going to ask you a favour' voice.

"Mmhmmmm?" he replied, in his 'I'm probably not going to do it but I'll humour you for a while' voice, which conveniently was just his normal voice.