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dhundertale · 2 years

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Authors note:

We swear to god, literally nobody is asking for these fics, but we just can’t stop making them. Lmfao they are all completely self-indulgent- regardless, hope ya’ll enjoy.

We swear we’re actually drawing, we just write these when our wrist disability hurts too much to draw- expect art this week tho-

Anyways, soriel for the soul. Theyre both dancing around each others feelings in this fic, cuz they both doubt that the other feels the same way. So have fun reading that.

TW: past self-harm. Not detailed.

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Toriel always strived to be honest with herself and those around her. Honesty was a policy she held with the upmost respect. It was a policy so important to her, that she always attempted to install it into her children.

Sans, however, didn’t seem to understand that importance.

It bothered her, to say the least, that Sans held so many secrets. She witnessed upfront as he lied to everyone. He lied about staying up late. He lied about going to the bar. He lied about why he was tired. He lied about how he was feeling.

It infuriated her, if she were to be honest. It made her so frustrated she wished to scream. She could suddenly relate deeply in her soul just how difficult of a time Papyrus must have with Sans’s demeanors.

So she decided to address it. The problem was that she wanted to speak to Sans one-on-one, and that was ever so difficult in a household of business and non-stop movement. So, she waited. She waited for the day to come, just as patiently as she waited for another child to fall from above, to bless her during her times in the Ruins.

And then the day came. October 5th. Papyrus, Undyne, and Alphys headed out with Frisk, to see Celest. Sans decided to stay behind, claiming to be “too lazy” to go. So there he was, lying on the couch, huddled under a blanket. Staring emptily at the TV, which wasn’t even turned on.

It was a perfect chance. A perfect time for confrontation.

She sat down beside him. His eyelights slowly made eye-contact. That ever-present smile on his face seemed to relax, as if a bit more genuine within her presence. Her soul skipped a beat.

“’sup, Tori?” his voice came out in a half-whisper, as if he lacked the energy to even speak. In fact, the further she examined him, the more her soul tightened. His bones were slack, and not in the lazy way. In a way that mirrored her time on the Ruin’s floor; that mirrored hopelessness. His eyelights were dim, as if he just didn’t have even the slightest bit of energy to keep them lit. Not to mention the ever-growing eye bags under his eyesockets…

Without thinking, she placed a hand on his cheek. He looked taken aback. She felt taken aback. A tense air of silence grew between the two, for several minutes.

“…uh…Tori?” he questioned, his voice almost holding a cautious tone, as if concerned he may set her off, “y’know, its pawsome that’cha wanna join me, but why dontcha cmere fur real?” he offered, extending his arms for a hug.

It was at that moment – such a simple, kind, and endearing gesture – that made Toriel realize just how wrong she was about her own emotions.

She was never angry with him. She was worried. Absolutely terrified for him and how casually he denied his own health. Her closest and dearest friend – someone whom she had questioned her own feelings towards at night, wondering if maybe they weren’t so platonic – was denying himself the road of recovery. Above all else…she was terrified to lose another person again. Especially one so dear to her mind and soul.

He helped her in her darkest times. When she was at her lowest, sobbing at the Ruins door, waiting for her dear children who she knew would never return. When she was beginning to fall into darkness, he came with the light, offering her laughter and conversation. All she wanted to do was offer him that same sunshine (or, as he would say “sanshine”) in return.

She pulled him into a firm, but gentle, hug. As close to her body as she could get. Sans’s eyesockets somehow went wider, as if truly surprised at the enthusiasm of her embrace. Despite that, he didn’t hesitate to hug her back, his bony fingers gently curling against her night-gown.

“…Sans.” She spoke, her voice trembling too much for her own liking, her eyes threatening to form tears “I am…ever so sorry for denying your needs.”

Sans genuinely seemed very taken aback with that. He didn’t exactly seem to know how to respond. Instead, he looked up at her, examining her own expression. As if trying to read her to come up with a response. But instead, it just left the two staring at one another, heat slowly rising and shading both of their faces with blush. Toriel was the one to break eye-contact, whipping her head to the left. The action seemed to break Sans out of whatever trance he had fallen in.

“i-its, uh, not really your respon-sans-bility, Tori. kinda up to me to eat my teeth and brush my veggies,” he joked, though she couldn’t bring herself to laugh. She just felt like such a neglectful friend. She even had the audacity to have allowed herself to feel angry at him. Why did she always have to be so bitter over things that gave her grievance? It truly was a problem, just like Frisk had pointed out…

How does one respond to a situation like this, anyway? How does one appropriately express just how strongly they feel for their best friend?

Toriel’s instinctive response was to bury her face into his side, whispering a soft “...I have responsibility for you, Sans. You’re my dearest friend.”

Sans shivered. Whether it was from her words or her face in his neck, she was unsure. His grip against her grew tight and intense, almost as if he was trying to keep her from leaving. She was all-game with that.

“…T-Tori, you, erm, don’t have to be…don’t have’ta be so fuzzed up over it, eheh...” he seemed to be losing grip over his own words. It wasn’t a surprise, if she were to be honest. Despite how cool and collected Sans was in most situations, he always seemed to melt into awkwardness when given genuine affection. It was…kind of adorable.

“Oh, Sans…” she laughed, gently rubbing her hands against his back. He was so small, compared to her. Her paws could easily cover his entire head. Oddly, that was one of the things about him that she liked the most. Perhaps his size is what made her all the more desperate to hold him.

“You must understand…seeing you in pain, it devastates me to the bone...”

If he wanted to use humor to flee her concerns, she was going to use humor to express them. She found that using his own mechanisms against him had worked very well thus-far. It is how she had gotten past his armor in past events as well.

“y…you’re wasting your time getting worked up over a numbskull like me,” he responded with a half-hearted shrug. Toriel hardly even noticed that her hands had begun to wander, tracing over the exposed bones of his arms. Frisk had stolen his jacket earlier, which left him in a lone t-shirt, readily available for her touch. Although some may complain over bones being uncomfortable to cuddle with, Toriel had always found it to be comforting. The smooth coolness, with occasional callousness…it was almost addicting to touch. And Toriel was a very touch person, even though it was often subconscious.

Sans gasped when her claws ran over the scars on his upper arms. He let out a long, quiet whimper, his arms trembling. She halted her touch immediately, shooting him a look of concern. Had she gone too far? What should she say? Was she breaching their friendship? She wasn’t even sure if he felt the same way she did…would he berate her for making such a move?

He blushed heavily, one hand slipping away from her back, and instead gently embracing one of her paws, his phalanges brushing over the soft skin that protruded from her fur. He glanced at the scars she had been touching. His eyes grew weary, and his eyelights dimmed further.

“look…Tori I…”

She interrupted immediately. He did not need to defend himself, when she so clearly had gone too far, “Please, do not apologize. I am at fault here. I have been informed in the past that my touches are…invasive, and I-“

Sans immediately drew his hands away, vigorously waving them and shaking his head, “no, no, you’re- its not that- i don’t mind that,” he assured, before that burst of energy faded, and his hands fell to his side, “i just…these scars, they…i…” he sighed, his chest deflating. He put his hands on his head, as if suffering from a headache. “they’re old, yknow? if seein’ these is what gotcha all worked up- i’m happier now, y’know? Paps and Grillbz…they got me outta that. i ain’t perfect, but i’m sure as hell…i’m better than then. y’feel?“

Toriel felt her soul drop. The implications of that…it reminded her so strongly of when she had found Chara, hidden away in the closet, arms and legs-…no, she couldn’t think about that for too long. It was too heartbreaking to recall.

She wrapped her arms around Sans, giving him a bear hug (or rather, boss-monster hug.) He hugged her in return, resting his head on her chest, as if she were a pillow.

“Oh, Sans…I am ever so proud of you for you’re recovery…” she cradled his head into her hands, rubbing her thumb against the side of his cheek. Her hands really were big enough to almost cover his entire skull, “…I just wish you would be honest that you are still suffering…even if it is not in quite the same way…”

Sans seemed to be contemplating her words, causing silence to fall over them both. She did not mind. It gave her time to examine him and truly appreciate him. His blush, ever so lightly dusted on his cheeks. His skull, gently leaning into her hands. His bones, healthy and strong…they had grown so much healthier, gaining a shiney glow and all-around thickness over the last few months. Coming to the surface, being out with friends, letting the sunshine on his bones…it all had definitely improved his health, which made Toriel so unbelievably happy. The first time she had held him, she had feared he would fall apart in her arms…now, he seemed sturdy and full. His HoPe had even improved, settling at 2 over the last few months. In a few more months, it may even move up to 3. She hoped it would.

Yes, he was recovering well. It helped subside her worries for him. Sans’s voice broke her out of her thoughts. She was unsure how much time had passed- ten minutes, perhaps?

“my doctor recommended me a therapist. Paps has been tryna get me to go,” he shrugged indifferently, “i don’ really know if it’ll do anything.’ might be worth a shot, tho. not like i have anythin’ better t’do.

A therapist. That is something she had long hated herself for not getting Chara. Chara always insisted they did not need it, and that things were getting better. For a while, she believed them…and now, she had learned her lesson. One of the first things she had done was find Frisk a therapist when they moved to the surface. She hoped, with all her heart, that it would give them the support she was unsure how to provide.

Perhaps, if Sans had one, they would be able to give him the support he needed as well.

“You should,” she agreed, nodding, “And if you needed any support…I would join you. I know your confidence is not the greatest, and would want you to feel comfortable sharing…if an old lady such as I could even encourage you at all.”

He chuckled, “you always encourage me, Tori. you’re my best friend.”

Toriel kissed him on the forehead, to which he sunk down like a turtle attempting to hide in a shell. He probably would have looked like one too, if only he had his hoodie. She couldn’t help but laugh.

“So long as you allow it, I shall always be your best friend, my love. I promise.”

And she intended to live up to that promise. She held on to it, even as the two fell into silence. Even as the handsome young skeleton fell asleep in her arms. Even as she herself fell asleep. Even as time marched on, and the days flew by, and the weather grew cold.

Toriel valued promises. Toriel valued honesty. Toriel valued recovery.

But more than that, she valued having Sans near. Regardless of what relationship she and him may hold.

And that was something she prayed to God, and even deities she didn’t believe in, would never slip away.

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