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"That was the worst movie I've ever seen."
"Well, I am sure the director tried very hard." The soft air of the summer night brushed at her ears, tickling them, flicking them up to show the pink underside. "And those actors, bless their hearts, were doing their best..."
"C'mon, Tori. Admit it. It sucked."
"Language."
A shiver went down his spine so hard he was surprised it didn't leave a clanking of xylophone noises in its wake. Oh, damn. Sans knew he had a thing for mature ladies, but when she used the Mom Voice... "Tell ya what. I'll let you pick the movie next time."
Was it just him, or did her hands clasp together a little tighter? "Oh. Er. Will there be a next time?"
"I hope so." It felt like there could've been a pun in there somewhere, but right now his skull just felt like an unpaired maraca, all clattering and unbalanced and messed up inside. Every gust of wind carried her scent on it, butterscotch and baby powder, sweet like nectar. "So, um…” He scuffed his shoe on the ground. “Nice of you to walk me home."
"Well, these mean streets are no place for a nice young man to go unaccompanied," she said with a grin, but it faltered when she saw he'd stopped walking. "Sans?"
"Uh, this is it."
She looked up at the house. It was small, but it loomed; the walls were straight but it seemed somehow off-kilter, like something drawn from the memory of a dream. "My goodness. I have lived here my whole life, and yet I do not believe I have seen this building before. Strange..." She squinted. The porch lights were on, and there was a dimmer glow from a solitary shuttered room upstairs. "Well. No matter." She turned back to her date.
"How does a skeleton kiss?"
Sans tried as hard as he could not to let his eyelight flare up. "Uh... is this a set-up for a joke, or are you actually asking?"
"The latter."
And, whoops. There it went. Toriel's shadow took on a paler twin as his left socket began shining bright blue. "Well, um, let me show you."
Gently taking her paws in his gloved hands, he turned one knuckle-down, and brought it up to his face. After pressing the flat of his front teeth against her palm, Sans carefully folded her fingers back into a fist and whispered "There. That's for you. You keep that, okay?"
"Of course," Toriel murmured. Then she placed a hand on his cheekbones and leaned a little closer. "Since you just stole a kiss, may I take it back?"
"Uh..." How amazing. He was actually blushing. "Yeah, sure."
It was slow, and sweet, and very soft; she put a paw on the back of his skull as her lips carefully edged along his teeth.
Wow.
Fireworks.
...Or maybe that was just the porch lights flicking on and off.
Yanking back, she put her hand on her chin, fingering her tiny nanny-goat beard. "May I---"
But whatever she was about to say would be lost to the sands of time, because all of a sudden the door slammed open with a loud bang. "SANS!!!"
They both jumped back. The skeleton in the doorway was glowering down with as much might as he could muster, his tattered scarf flowing in the non-existent wind. "I was worried sick!"
Toriel's eyes wandered over to her date, but right now he seemed to be very interested in his feet.
"When you say you'll be home at ten, I expect ten! Ten-oh-one if you're being fashionably late, but not..." The taller skeleton looked over his shoulder, and once he saw the clock, his head swiveled back around with indignant rage. "Not ten seventeen! Why I..."
And then his eyes widened. "Wait. Is this the Toriel you've been gushing so much about?"
The sound of his teeth grinding together was hidden under the hard slap of his hand over his face. "Yeah, why?"
Like a thunderclap, his brother's expression went from rage to delight. "WOWIE! You weren't kidding when you said she was gorgeous!"
Toriel tittered, her eyes on Sans' glowering face. "You called me gorgeous?"
"Oh yes," his brother went on. "In fact, he used many synonyms. I believe he also said you were beautiful inside AND out! That's quite rare." Suddenly he did a double-take. "Oh my goodness gracious! Where are my manners?" Both arms flung to the side, he bowed so low his forehead nearly touched the floor. "Please allow me to introduce myself. I am the Great Papyrus! How do you do?"
Giggling, Toriel picked up the hem of her skirt and curtsied. "Very well, thank you. I am Toriel. And how do you do?"
"Much better now that we've been properly introduced!" He turned and snapped his fingers at his brother. "Sans, are you just going to stand there like a doofus, or are you going to invite our guest in for a drink?"
He sighed through his clenched teeth. “Y’wanna come in?”
“I would love to, thank you.”
He took her hand in his and helped her across the threshold. “What’ll it be?”
“Whatever you are having.”
“Whisky sour it is.” Sans nodded at Papyrus. “Hey, be a gentlebones and pull out a chair for our guest, yeah?”
“Oh no!” Toriel said quickly. A flush came to her cheeks when she saw two confused skulls staring at her, and stammered “I-I, er, I think I will join my date in the kitchen.”
Papyrus folded his arms and somehow grinned even wider. “Of course! As you wish. The chair will be pulled out when you return.”
“Thank you kindly.” She trailed behind Sans, and once she was sure they were out of earshot, whispered “Is he always this… eccentric?”
“Nope. He’s usually a lot worse.” He opened the fridge and scowled. “Ah, shoot. We’re out of lemon juice. Lime okay?”
“Of course! Sour is sour after all.”
“Look, uh… knowing Papyrus, he can’t be left alone too long. Last time I took a trip out of town he glued all of the furniture to the ceiling.” Sans shrugged. “It’s an ADHD thing.”
“Sorry to hear that. But I would much rather stay here with you.”
Their eyes met, and Sans was surprised to see a kind of tenseness around her mouth.
Reading the question in his eyes, Toriel said “I am very sorry, my child. I have a personal rule: I never accept a drink unless I see it being prepared right in front of me.”
Sans’ hand hesitated over the glass. He looked down with an inscrutable expression.
She cleared her throat. "Oh dear. Are you angry?"
"Well of course I'm angry. I'm angry we live in a world that's so fucked up women have to have that kind of rule." He turned and handed her the drink. "Look. I'm a decent guy, but you have no way of knowing that. And I get it."
Toriel smiled and took the drink. "Thank you. You know, in my tender years, I had many a young man chasing after me..."
"Heh! I don't doubt it."
"...and so, SO many of them would become furious when they heard my rule."
His eyelight blazed so hard it shot a bit of blue to the side. The thought of this sweet woman being confronted by... The hands in his pockets tightened to fists. "Sounds like you dodged a few bullets," he managed to snarl out.
"More like a battalion." She took a sip.
"Look. As a man in good standing, I gotta say: not all men are assholes, but... most assholes are men."
She snorted, horked, and then doubled over coughing. Sans immediately rushed up behind her and began slapping her back. "Jeez, are you okay?!"
"You just---please, I---" Toriel wiped her knuckles over her snout. "Please, do not ever again make me laugh while I have liquor in my mouth!!"
“There you are!”
They both turned to Papyrus, and Toriel laughed when she saw his wagging finger. “Were you trying to sneak in some kisses?”
“No, my dear child. Er…” She gently placed the glass in his hand. “Have a drink on me.”
“Why thank you!”
“I will see myself out.” She spent a moment hovering in the doorway, and then gave Sans a little wink. “Until next time.”
The door clicked behind her, and Papyrus nodded. "That went well, I think."
Sans was already on his knees. “I swear to God I’m gonna kill you.”