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In Toriel’s opinion, her and Asgore’s Christmas party was going pretty well. Everyone who had been invited showed up and they seemed to be having a jovial time together. All the hard work she, Asgore, and Frisk, their essentially adopted child, had put into decorating and baking was really paying off.
The gathering was a humble one, as Toriel had always intended. For the first part of the party, she was pre-occupied putting together one of her famous butterscotch-cinnamon pies, something she knew her guests would appreciate. As of now, the pie was baking in the oven with Asgore crouched in front of it and attentively watching as Toriel had instructed. One minute too long in the oven or a discoloration that went unnoticed could spoil the whole dessert, and she couldn’t afford to let that happen.
Taking a break from her baking, Toriel ventured out into the hallway and chanced a peek into the living room. Things weren’t all that different from when she last looked in, save for a couple of rearrangements. Sans was still beside the Christmas tree, plucking popcorn kernels off their strings and throwing them in his mouth when no one was looking. That was fine; Toriel had put the popcorn up expecting the skeleton to eat it.
On the sofa, Mettaton was sitting halfway into Papyrus’s lap, laughing jovially at what Toriel suspected had been another one of Sans’s puns or cheesy jokes. The robot had scooted over to accommodate Napstablook, who had finally abandoned his corner and decided to join the festivities.
The power couple of the group, Alphys and Undyne, were cuddled up together on the other armchair, more invested in each other at the moment than anyone else at the party. The kids had moved from mooching snacks from the table to rummaging about under the Christmas tree, trying to guess what each present underneath could hold. Toriel felt a particular motherly affection when she watched Frisk holding up each present for Monster Kid and Flowey, since neither of them possessed arms.
Yes, this party was definitely turning out to be a huge success.
Upon returning to the kitchen, Toriel found Asgore still hunched obediently in front of the oven, just as she’d left him. Humming with a brief chuckle, Toriel quietly padded over and tapped the large goat monster on the shoulder.
Asgore’s head whipped around in surprise, but his features instantly softened when he saw who had arrived. “Oh, Tori…” his deep, gentle voice rumbled. “I think the pie’s nearly done.”
“Is that so?” Toriel whispered, leaning down beside him to join in observing the pie. “It looks like you’re right. I’ll take it out in just a minute.”
Comfortable silence descended for a few seconds as the pie continued to cook and expand in its crust. Both goats kept watching, determined to ensure the pie would be perfect for their guests.
“So…” Asgore cleared his throat. “How is everyone doing out there?”
“They’re having a wonderful time,” Toriel warmly replied.
“Is Sans eating the popcorn off the tree?”
“Yes, just like I told you he would.”
A throaty laugh rumbled in Asgore’s chest. “So…our party is a success, then?”
“So long as this pie turns out perfect,” Toriel reminded, rising to her feet. “We’re about to find out now.”
Eyes glistening with excitement, Asgore hurriedly rose to his feet and stepped aside, giving Toriel room to open the oven door and retrieve the pie tin. Slipping a knitted oven mitt over her fluffy, white hand, Toriel reached into the hot depths of the oven and pulled out the pie, setting it on a rack she’d prepared atop the counter.
As far as the goat could tell, the pie was of impeccable quality, but she had to be sure. “Asgore, could you get me a toothpick?”
“Certainly!” Asgore leaped to fulfill the request, opening one of the kitchen’s drawers and picking out a slivery toothpick from a box within.
“Thank you, dear.” Toriel gently took the toothpick from Asgore’s large hand.
As Toriel methodically poked at the melted pie’s center, Asgore himself was practically melting behind her. He never, in all the years he’d known her, been able to get over Toriel’s sweet pet names for him, even the simple ones like “dear.” He’d feared for a while, quite a while actually, that he’d never get to hear them again.
Each and every day since he and his people had emerged from the underground, Asgore grew more and more thankful for the turn of events that had brought them there. If it hadn’t been for everything that Frisk had done, he and Toriel may very well have never been able to get over their differences and get back together. Losing her, especially so soon after losing his son, had torn him apart. He never thought he’d be lucky enough to get his family back.
Well, he also certainly hadn’t thought he’d get a family with a human child carrying around a sentient flower that contained their son’s soul, but it was still a family. An odd family, but a family he could cherish nonetheless.
“Eureka,” Toriel cheerily announced, removing the toothpick from the pie and setting it aside. “A perfect pie.” Leaving the dessert to cool momentarily on the rack, Toriel turned back around and looked Asgore right in the eye. “Thank you for your help, dear. It made all the difference.”
Again feeling that he might melt into a puddle on the linoleum kitchen floor, Asgore did his best to hold himself together. Toriel’s praise made his knees weak though, and clearly she took notice.
Smiling warmly, the tender goatmom approached him and ran a hand down his face, playing with the edges of his massive, soft beard. This only made matters worse for Asgore’s knees and basically Asgore as a whole.
Smile widening at the blush trying its best to shine through Asgore’s layers of hair and fur, Toriel leaned up, standing on her toes, and kissed him. That was when Asgore was officially a lost cause, kissing her back with all the abounding, devoted love in his giant body. He just…couldn’t believe it. They were so lucky. They had their domestic life back, their family back, and each other back, and they wanted to celebrate that. Perhaps that had been one of the subconscious reasons for this party.
Pulling away and running her fingers over Asgore’s drooping left ear, Toriel murmured, “Thank you, Asgore.” They both knew she was thanking him for so much more than just the pie.
When the couple presented the pie to the party attendees in the living room, there were cheers and hollers and an overly-excited Frisk bouncing on their feet. Once they’d made sure everyone got a slice, Asgore and Toriel made just enough room for themselves on the last remaining open spot on the sofa, Toriel sitting in Asgore’s lap. As they joined in on the conversation and festivities, they had a feeling that they would have many more parties like this together in the future.
Thus ends the eighteenth day of Christmas.