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“This one?”
“Mm!” Little hands made crab-grabbing motions as if to spur her mother on faster.
Though the small bed was already crowded with the bodies of two miniature humans and a line of stuffed animals her children asserted also had to be present for story time, Frisk managed to squeeze her way between her son, daughter and Mr. Fluffles to prop the book on her thighs. She cleared her throat, more for preamble then out of necessity, and began, “Wednesday is Spaghetti Day.”
(There was really no question who gifted them with that particular tale, was there? Of course, Papyrus would argue its only major flaw was mistaking ‘Wednesday’ for ‘Every Day’. )
The book was neither long nor complex, just a simple anecdote of some cat friends getting together to ‘cook’ and enjoy a meal while their humans were out, but between Caroline’s additions to the story with her own plush cat and Azriel trying to read the few lines of dialogue in increasing ridiculous tenors, a five minute story easily turned to twenty. Frisk would normally play along, perhaps point out how Ruby’s collar was like Chara’s locket or how Scruffy’s Baguette batting skills could rival her daughter’s, until everyone in the family had an assigned cat-i-cature. But on a night where she could barely hide her constant yawns, the young ambassador who hardly had the energy to keep her eyes open let alone her mind was happy to just let her children do all the work and run the show tonight.
Perhaps that was why, as they reached the tail end of the story, Frisk found herself suddenly reading to herself rather than her two tuckered out tykes. She looked left to Caroline’s semi-sprawl that was crushing half the Zoo Brigade, then right at Azriel’s roly-poly curl and open-mouthed snores, smiled, shut the book-
And immediately realized she was trapped as her legs were underneath the covers… that her children’s slumbering forms were now holding down on either side of her like lovable paperweights. Briefly, she considered just throwing in the towel and staying with them for the night but the industrial-sized crick in her back she knew she’d get from sleeping sitting up persuaded her otherwise.
Well, there was only one solution to this particular puzzle.
Moving slowly, Frisk moved her hand towards the nightstand, plucking up her phone. A swipe and a tap brought her to the text messaging screen and she typed out a short message:
*Help I’m trapped between too much adorable
It didn’t take long before she heard soft footsteps over the hardwood floor and the door swung open, Chara peering inside. Upon seeing her wife’s plight, she swiftly chooses the most obvious action: take pictures.
“My hero.” She said mockingly, spatting out her tongue.
Chara took another snapshot just to annoy her. “So, how should I caption this before I send it off? Frisk, hero of all Monsterkind, defeated by her own children?”
Usually, Frisk would have had a good comeback for that (possibly with a side of flirtation), but her mind had reached that brink where critical thinking became a suggestion rather than a requirement. She heaved a sigh. “Chara.”
Picking up on her exasperation, her wife dropped the teasing and came to her rescue. She easily hefted Azriel up from the bed, the boy not even stirring in the short trek it took to bring him from one bed to the other. As Chara was tucking in their son, Frisk slipped out of the covers and situated Caroline more snuggly in her own bed.
As they stepped out of the room, giving the children both a once over and making sure their nightlight was on before the door was quietly shut, Frisk leaned up and pecked her wife on the cheek, feeling a little guilty over her attitude. “Thanks.”
Chara was… pretty good about not holding a grudge these days. “You should go to sleep too.”
“Nu-huh. We have a movie to watch.” Frisk said, turning towards the living room, determined to last out the night this time.
Chara was not at all surprised that one-third of the way into the movie, she glanced towards Frisk to find her slumbering away against the couch’s arm rest. In the pale blue light of the TV screen, the shadows under her eyes stood out even more starkly, like bruises. Long hours at the embassy brought upon by the new and grossly unfair monster tax proposition law would do that to a lady.
She rubbed one of her wife’s ankles before carefully shifting them out of her lap so she could stand. She plunked up the remote and turned off the movie and television, before quietly setting the remote back down well within reach of the flowerpot where a single yellow flower was hibernating for the night.
Chara then turned back to Frisk, brushing away her bangs, “Come on Frisk, it’s time for bed.” She curled her arms underneath the woman’s knees and shoulders, hefting her up with ease.
That was enough to get her wife to stir, hearing her mumble sleepily. “Mmm noooo…”
“You butt.”
Arms came around her neck, held there loosely, warm breathes against her collarbone making goosebumps rise along her skin. “Y’like my butt.”
Well. She wasn’t going to argue with that. Not that she’d had much of a chance to rediscover that fact lately. “Sure do.” She pushed open their door with her foot, carefully depositing Frisk onto their bed before she went about getting into her sleep clothes. By the time she climbed in beside her, she was wholly expecting the other to already be asleep again.
So she was surprised when knuckles brushed gently along her arm, lidded blue eyes peering at her wearily. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“I haven’t been around much lately. Barely have time for you or the kids. Are you disappointed?”
She nibbled at the side of her tongue, not wanting to admit that that was exactly how she felt. How did Frisk always dothat? Instead of following her first instinct and lying though (it really never had gotten her anywhere in life), she murmured, “A little. I uh…” She focused hard on a loose thread in their sheets, feeling a weird mixture of embarrassment and selfishness curdling in her gut. “I miss you.”
The mattress creaked as the other shifted and warms arms encircled her, Frisk’s face burying itself against her clavicle. “Sorry.” She repeated.
Chara laid her chin along the crown of brown hair. “It’s not your fault. I’ve just never been good at sharing.”
A smile pressed against her skin. It was soon lost under a sigh. “I want to be home more, but with the rallies and the news coverage and all these meetings, I feel like I’m barely keeping up. And with that stupid faction acting up again and none of the human government bothering to listen-!” The other girl trailed off, making a frustrated noise in the back of her throat.
“Hey, don’t stress about it. Me and the kids understand what you do is important.”
There was a pause, then a soft whisper, “I just don’t want any of you to think you’ve become an afterthought to me.”
What.
“Whooooa, hold up.” Chara pulled back some only to squish Frisk’s face between her hands, hearing her yelp in surprise. “Where did that come from?”
It was kind of funny to watch her talk with puckered fish-lips. “Cut it out!” Frisk pulled her away by her wrists. The playfulness, like most other things lately, left her too fast. When she spoke again, her tone was somber. “It’s important that the kids feel stable though. If I’m always gone… it… it sometimes can feel like being abandoned again.” She swallowed hard. “It’s a horrible feeling, you know?”
It was like hearing a click in her brain and suddenly Chara understood. Her arms came around her wife and with a tilt fell onto her back, dragging the younger woman atop her. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing. The one who will stop and lay with a moldsmal to cheer it up and makes sure Whimsuns have a fair say in government events – Whimsuns! – is worrying she’ll make her own family think she’s forgotten them?”
She cupped Frisk’s chin in her hand. “That’s impossible. You know why?” As the other rose a curious eyebrow, Chara reached out with her free hand for her cellphone, turning it open to her texting app, scrolling back a few days and starting to read, “Monday: ‘Drew this at the meeting. Show the kids. How are they?’ Tuesday: ‘Want me to pick up dinner? Azriel’s favorite is on sale.’ Wednesday: ‘Rough day today. Miss you. Love you.’ Thursday: … that’s when you send that video. But you get the idea right, you big dummy.” She tossed her phone carelessly onto the bedspread, holding her wife close. “Even if you have to spend more time away, you could never give us that thought because you never do forget us.”
“Chara,” Frisk was suspiciously misty-eyed as she leaned forward to kiss her, but when they parted, her smile stayed strong, “Thank you.”
“Mm anytime. Now get some sleep.”
It took no more goading then that, the two slipping into a more comfortable position alongside each other. As her wife quickly fell back to sleep, Chara fished around for her phone again, setting an alarm for just a few minutes after Frisk’s own.
Because a few saccharine words were great but perhaps breakfast together would be even better.