Work Text:
No one but Flowery could remember the wedding, but no one minded since he was the oldest and knew Asgore best. Everyone trusted him, especially the littler ones.
We were all bundled up together, no? Oh, I can see us now! Blue sighed as only a flower could. Resplendent in the grand sanctum, our stems held steady by creamy crepe paper and Toriel’s buffed claws…
Many of the others began to groan. Yellow had half a mind to tell them to hushpuppy up, but Flowery simply laughed with a shake of his golden petals.
Deep within the shallow flowerbed, Blue’s roots tightened around Yellow’s. Potash and loam shifted as Yellow gripped back. They existed together like this, a curated network grand enough to make a wad of mycelium ashamed.
Exactly right! Flowery always loved talking about the wedding. Poor Asgore really had his work cut out for him. Kept having to rush us out to the atrium and pour these funny little cups of water over our roots.
Mist! Mist! Aqua squealed. He’s gotta mist us!
He will, seedling. Don’t fret. Blue reassured her. Don’t you hear him? He’ll tend to us once he’s done with his work.
Yellow sure hoped so. Not for the mist, but the dinner show. Nothing like closing out another day with some classic tales of derring-do from Asgore’s cowboy programs. He’d promised to give Blue a play-by-play, even though Blue was perfectly capable of hearing it himself, but Yellow knew his responsibility as the one closest to the television set. A man of justice never buckles under his promises, and Yellow was very proud of keeping his. Every single one.
You and Yellow, Flowery continued, You guys were the only ones who kept your roots all cozy together. Asgore had to rearrange the rest of us for you two, you know? Big guy didn’t want to break you up.
Cold panic jolted Yellow’s up stem. Whah!? No, no, break up? That sounds bad… Blue, are we… Is that… Are we? Truthfully, he never even considered such a thing was possible. He and Blue had been a couple for as long as he could remember, for as much as that was worth. Flowery always assured him that they’d been tied to the root for as long as he could remember, and Flowery knew everything!
Before he could finish his rickety train of thought, Yellow felt Blue’s delicate tendrils loop around his own, a swift movement that made the dirt sluff over and around his hidden parts.
No, my buttercup. You and I are rootbound. Asgore knows that. Isn’t that right, Flowery?
Sure as filtered water! Flowery chirped happily, He wouldn’t have done all that if he didn’t love us. You want to know what he said when he fluffed up yours and Blue’s petals, Yellow?
Whazzat?
The leaves on the sides of Flowery’s stem curled up in delight. He said that he and Tori weren’t the only lovegoats getting married! He said this like it was some big revelation, as if he hadn’t told variations of the same story hundreds of times over. Least he had the decency to keep spicing it up with new exciting details here and there.
Orange made a retching noise. Seth shushed her.
(See, dearest?) Blue crooned low through their shared roots, his special way of sweet-talking. Yellow had never been able to do it himself, always tripping up in his concentration and accidentally mouthing off gushy nonsense he didn’t want the others to hear. Blue didn’t mind. He talked enough for the both of them. (Are there any other flowers in the world who can claim such sacred matrimony like ourselves?) His fond sigh ripples between them. (Imagine us, my love, imagine us walking in a room so much bigger and grander than this. Do you hear it? Organ music and an eager audience. My hands holding yours as we walk with glorious legs down an aisle carpeted in delectable volcanic ash.)
My lands, Blue… I don’t gotta imagine somethin’ like that. Yellow tried to make his reply soft enough for Blue to hear without getting picked up by the little ones, impossible as that was. Not when Asgore mixed ash in our dirt just a coupla days ago.
Ash! Ash! Aqua giggled. A-S-H spells fun! Tastes like sand and bones!
(I know I don’t have to, but it’s fun to dream, is it not?) Blue kept on. Yellow let himself sink into familiar toasty fondness. (O, to move with love in a flurry of human limbs! To let myself be swept off my feet by your arms. To hold you. To cherish you. To run my blunt human feelers through your hair… Would you have hair, do you think?)
Yellow thought about this for a long moment. He was glad that some of the others had gone and grouped up into other conversations. It meant that his bashful replies would get caught up in the ambient chatterboxing. Shucks, Blue, I dunno. Never really gave it a good think, y’know? Would ya want me to have hair?
(I love you as you are.) Blue’s roots pulsed against Yellow’s beneath the substrate. (This is just a game of pretend, a folly flight of fantasy! We can talk about something else, if you’d rather.)
But before Yellow could reply, heavy pawsteps tromped up the steps and brought everyone back to a solemn, reverent silence.
Asgore was back, and Asgore always took priority. It was just the way things were.
They all watched as he emerged from the place Flowery called ‘downstairs.’ His massive crown of horns popped up before the rest of him. Yellow never mentioned this to anyone, not even Blue, but he often wondered why they didn’t seem to look as polished as they used to. It always seemed like an odd detail to remember, but maybe that was just how a brain of Justice worked.
“Evening, little blossoms.” Asgore smiled as he lumbered to the sink and filled up a spray bottle. “I hope I didn’t worry you. It’s been a busy time for the shop these days now that the weather is finally warming up.”
We don’t know what the cold feels like thanks to you, big guy! Flowery cried. He was the only one who ever replied, even if Asgore couldn’t hear him. Business is blooming, I hope?
Asgore tested the spritzer on the palm of his hand. “Azzy and Kris stopped by earlier. They’re alright. Poor Kris wasn’t too eager to let me look at their report card, though.” He chuckled. “Here, let’s get you all fed and settled in to bed.”
Alien consciousness tore through Yellow in a violent birth. He was breaking out of his seed again, somehow, an eruption of life that threatened to drown him in a crescendo of murky Darkness.
He was on a hardwood floor with his chest wrapped up in stocky arms that he immediately knew belonged to Blue. There was no question there, even as aftershocks rippled through his, his what? His stem? No, torso.
Human. Human. Human.
“Shh, my lovely…” Blue’s hand carded through what must have been Yellow’s hair. It felt good, like when Asgore would sometimes pet at the edges of his petals, but deeper somehow. More intimate.
Yellow leaned into it, and the side of his cheek pressed into a solid, moving body. Blue. New, but still his Blue.
“There, ah, there. Yellow, my Yellow.” Blue’s hands slid down Yellow’s sides. One slipped under his clothing and Yellow heard himself croak as a bare palm pressed itself deep into his skin. “There must be a mirror somewhere. Maybe a puddle? Somewhere where you can see how handsome you are. How handsome we are.”
His voice was as it always was, honeysuckle sweet, but with a new richness and resonance that Yellow felt the physical rumble of as his head was cradled against Blue’s chest. Whatever he was wearing was one of the prettiest things Yellow had ever seen, a thin layer of shimmery satin, drawn tight over firm muscle and dyed with a shade of blue that Yellow had only ever seen on a robin’s eggshell that Asgore had brought in to show them once.
“Blue? Blue, what’s… Ah!” He stopped to touch his mouth, marveling at the way his eyes saw double for the second it took for him to prod at his thin chapped lips. “I… I feel kinda… Do I got a worm in my face hole, Blue?” He opened it wide and winced as something near the back of his head popped like a rusty hinge.
“That’s your tongue, dearest, and what a winsome one it is!” Blue beamed, drawing back just enough so that he could cup Yellow’s head between his hands. “To wake in a midsummer’s dream to a face such as yours…” The corners of his eyes scrunched and his grin grew as he drew in for just long enough to plant a kiss to the bridge of Yellow’s nose. “Well, my Theseus? Do I have the highest honor of playing the role of your Hippolyta?”
Yellow felt himself squint and go cross-eyed at the kiss. It was new, but he liked it. “Shucks, long as I get to be a cowboy about it… Is that Thesis guy one o’ those?” The smile that tugged at his lips felt good. Natural. It felt even better when he pressed them to Blue’s in a sloppy smooch that made his sweetheart break character with a gentle laugh. His breath smelled like tangy pollen.
“Bumblebeetle, who cares for rules in an adaptation? You’re wearing gingham, for goodness sake! Here.” With a parting kiss to Yellow’s forehead, Blue pulled away to stand. Yellow barely registered the squeaky whine he made, though it won him a surprised chuckle from his periwinkle beau.
Stage lights blazed down on them, hot enough to make Yellow’s skin feel tacky and strange. He didn’t much like that part of being human, the sweating. It unburied some long hauler anxieties of coming down with the root rot, something Blue often had to talk him down from.
“Look, Yellow!” Blue’s delight, as always, nipped Yellow’s fear in the bud. “A genuine theatre, just for us!” His steps were delicate and practiced. It didn’t matter If they were his ‘first.’ Grace came naturally to someone like him. His ballet flats were unsullied and the light, harsh as it was, made his powdery locs shine.
“We oughta see where the others came to,” Yellow said. He moved his body in uncoordinated jolts and jitters, all gangly limbs like some dusty, worthless little colt, but look! He had real leather boots! And spurs! Just like a real cowboy!
He poked at his belt buckle, then licked his finger. “Phooey! Reckon this is genuine brass, Blue?”
Blue pranced back to Yellow’s side. He was a bit shorter than him, but with the proper build of a trained dancer. Any human or monster worth their salt could see that, Yellow reckoned.
“Dearest Yellow,” Blue murmured, his smile softening. He clasped Yellow’s hand in both of his. “You have and will always be the western darling of our union, but you know this is isn’t real.” As if to dull the sting of it, he rose himself on the tips of his toes and pressed his mouth to Yellow’s. This time, he didn’t pull away. “You understand, don’t you? We’ve been bequeathed with a splendid gift, but all good things can’t last forever.”
“Buh…” Yellow threw his arms around Blue’s chest in a clumsy embrace. “I… I think I knew that.” Much as it made him feel like he was wilting, or the human version of such. It was more painful than he thought. Messy, too, what with all the water filling up in his eyes. “Don’t want it to be true though, Blue. You’re as purdy as prairie grass right now. N-Not that ya weren’t before! Golly, no…” He huffed, his face turning hot as he hunched down to squeeze his face deep into the crook of Blue’s shoulder. “Oh, darlin’…”
Blue kissed his hairline and hugged him back. “Hush, Yellow, I know,” he whispered. His hands rubbed Yellow’s back. “Let’s find the others. Flowery will know what to do. And what of Asgore. hm? Don’t you want to say hello to him, dearest? Face to face?”
They stood together in silence for a long moment, swaying to and fro. Yellow savored it, even if it meant drying his wet face on Blue’s pretty new duds.
Hushed voices echoed down a hallway, but Blue didn’t pull back. “Promise me, Yellow,” he murmured in Yellow’s ear, “Promise you’ll help me make certain this dream is a comedy, not a tragedy?”
“Course’, Blue. Promise.” Yellow squeezed him tightly, his wide-brimmed hat threatening to topple off his head. “Long as I can help with makin’ sure none of the riffraff gets ya. Always gotta look out fer justice opper-tune-ah-teas, y’hear?”
“Flowery! Flowery!!! I FOUND THEM!” A distant cry. Aqua.
And then, it was over. Just like that.
The one time in their lives that they would ever be alone together.
“Thanks fer watching my dream.”
All dreams come to an end. Yellow knew this. Really, he did! He knew flowers could never survive under twilight, but that didn’t make the last curtain call less bitter in a mouth that could no longer exist.
He woke to a dark room, the sunlamps clicked off, and Kris rummaging through the soil of a corpse.
Flowery!? He wasn’t the only one who screamed. The littluns were the loudest, but not loud enough.
(Yellow, dear?) Blue’s private whisper cut through the din. Familiar roots caressed him. (Oh, Yellow… Did you see what happened? Flowery…)
Yellow was only half-listening. He tried to readjust back to his old senses.
Y’all? He tried to yell, to try and get the others to listen. Ya’ll, look! Look at Kris, why’re they…? Are they diggin’? Why…?
His vantage point made Kris’s hands hard to make out. He could catch glimpses of their thin wrists and a pinched grimace twisting at their mouth. It was only when they stood with a sheet of soil-encrusted paper that he realized what they doing.
(Yellow, dear?)
Why did Kris want that? That was Flowery’s! Kris had always been a sourpuss of a kid, sure, but they weren’t a thief! No child of Asgore could possibly turn into a bad apple.
(Dearest?)
Blue, look! Yellow saw it then, the tremble in Kris’s fingers. They were gripping Flowery’s paper hard enough to rip it. They’re gonna…
“Kris!”
…
The world turned darker for what felt like a split second.
Something had changed. It was warm now. So warm. Shared space. Blue, as if by magic, was suddenly nestled against Yellow under the glass dome of his home range.
Yellow! Yellow, oh my stars… Blue sounded as startled as Yellow felt. There was a gap where their memories should have been. Their careful network of roots had been upended.
“Sorry guys, you’re gonna have to share for now…” Susie’s voice.
Blue, are ya alright? Yellow tried to move his petals over Blue’s, an approximation of a hug, the only thing he could do. Blue, I-I can’t…
Orange was sobbing as only a flower could. He needed to help her, but mercy, Blue’s roots, at least the ones that Yellow could touch, were as cold as ice.
I-I’m fine, only shaken up a smidge. Blue was putting on an act for the little ones. Yellow knew it. He hated that he couldn’t do anything about it other than try and rustle up his feelers to just move already. It will be worth it, won’t it, my love? I’ll be alright. Susie only wanted to help, that’s all. See? Have faith in her.
“…Oh, yeah, I should explain.”
Yellow tried to listen to her, but all he could think about, apart from Blue, was the way Kris had looked. He couldn’t see their face now, just the shaggy back of their head.
Blue, I think Kris was gonna tear up Flowery’s property. You saw it too, right? That was criminell behavior, wadn’t it? That wasn’t theirs to trash! It’s just like stealin’, only worse!
Their roots were already tangling back together, closer this time, a slow swirl of warming growth.
Blue sighed shakily. Dearest, I know we’re both harried right now, but are you certain?
I know what I saw.
Yellow…
Wait, wait! Susie’s sayin’ more stuff!
“Before we sealed the first Fountain… Flowery talked to me and told me that Asgore used to be the police chief. And still had his shelter code buried in Flowery’s soil!”
Part of Yellow felt a bit hurt by this. He had never once considered the possibility that Flowery would keep secrets from them.
“He… told me not to tell anybody about it, but… guess he told you too, huh?”
Hear that, dearest? Blue’s shriveled roots clutched at Yellow’s. It’s alright. Kris may be troubled, but their integrity shines true. I’m certain of that. A quiet child is not a bad one.
Shame made Blue want to turn himself away, but there wasn’t enough space. …You’re right, Blue. Sorry. I’ll, ah, have to find a new way for a punishment, I reckon.
…No, dearest. I trust your conviction with all the life I have left.
“…Anyway, let’s get out of here. Fast.”
The two rushed out, and it was only then that Yellow made himself call out to Orange. Someone needed to comfort her, and he and Blue were the eldest now, weren’t they?
Flowery was gone. No one could remember the wedding.