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“Blue! Blue, let’s go ta’ Buffalo Wild Wings!”
Two petalled plants, gifted mind and body (but not heart, they had already possessed that,) eagerly make their way down the sidewalk. They look human to the majority of onlookers. Although, that is because most monsters don’t know that humans don’t come in blue or yellow.
The first flower’s eyes are squinted in joy, the spring in his step stemming from the excitement of a new place to explore. It was even more exhilarating with his Blue tagging along. His spurs jangle against the ground with each pace as he practically skips ahead like some kind of dance.
The second is literally dancing, airily drifting forward with effortless grace. His gaze kindly rests on the hatted cowboy ahead of him, eyes softened in endearment. Gently, the blue ballerina rests a hand on the other’s shoulder, touch feather-light. Yellow halts in his tracks immediately, pivoting on his heel to give his partner his whole attention.
“‘Buffalo Wild Wings’… Is that a sort of establishment?” Blue questions as a reply to Yellow’s enthusiastic exclamations.
“Yes, s’far as I know!” he responds. “I asked a citizen where the closest thing to a western saloon was, and they said it was a ‘bar’? I told ‘em a bar is a long piece o’ metal, and then they said ta’ go to Buffalo Wild Wings instead.”
Blue tilts his head, charmed by the other’s passion. “I see… You wish to visit a western saloon?”
Yellow’s eager nod in response jostles his hat out of place. His partner automatically reaches up to straighten it, at which the cowboy visibly blushes. “Well, yes… Cowboys go to saloons n’ whatnot.”
“Ah. Well, it saddens me to inform you, dearest, but I believe we’re in ‘Florida’.”
Blue’s hands don’t drop back to their sides after adjusting Yellow’s hat, instead staying to rest on his cheeks. They warm even further under the flower’s touch.
“Hm? I-I never been to Florida b’fore,” says Yellow, somewhat stammering at the gentle fingers caressing his face.
“Yes. It’s a region over in the southeast, if my memory serves correctly.” Blue moves as if to take Yellow’s hands, but they fly up in shock before he can grasp them.
“What?!” he yells, startling a few passerby. “So anywhere I go, it’ll jus’ be an eastern saloon?!” He threads his hands through his hair. “That’s the complete opposite of west! Aw, golly, I ain’t a real cowboy!”
“There, there, Yellow…” Blue reaches up to gently grab his partner’s hands. Yellow swoons in response. Uncharacteristically timid, he looks down as to cast a shadow over his face with the brim of his hat to conceal his bashful expression.
“It matters not whether we are on the highest peak or lowest valley. You can be whatever you like, wherever you like.” Blue tilts the other’s chin up to properly see his face in the light once more.
“Like a cowboy?” Yellow utters, glancing away briefly.
“Absolutely. You are my cowboy.”
The resulting grin on the other flower’s face is bright enough to rival the light of the sun, despite his form being a result of a fountain of darkness. Blue blooms at the sight as Yellow rocks back and forth on his heels. “Darn tootin’!”
Blue chuckles warmly, his heart gladdened from successfully cheering up his lover. The dancer pulls his hands away, though Yellow seems to mourn the loss of contact, and puts his arms out in a poised position, as if about to twirl.
Yellow sheepishly rubs behind his neck. “We could go see that bar I was told about while we’re here! Not sure how a tall metal thing is s’pposed ta’ be western, but I suppose it’s worth lookin’ at if that person told me about it. I’d like ta’ take a gander if you’ll come with me!” Yellow gestures animatedly as he rambles.
Blue smoothly raises a hand. “May I offer you a suggestion, Yellow?”
“Huh? Why, of course!” The cowboy shuffles toward his partner to listen avidly, a smile spreading on his face. Blue softens at the sight.
“I vaguely recall Asgore mentioning a restaurant called ‘Texas Roadhouse’. Texas is considered to be more on the western side, no?”
“Uh, well, I ain’t too well-informed on where everything is, so I wouldn’t know.” Yellow rubs the back of his neck again, eyes downcast. He perks up in again after a moment. “I’d like ta’ go there, if it’s western-like!”
The cowboy tilts his head. “Also, isn’t that the place where they give you a treat for your birthday?”
“I believe so, yes.” Blue perks up in his own realization. “Ah, Yellow! Why don’t we tell them it’s your birthday?”
Yellow gasps, hands melodramatically pressed to his chest in surprise. “But Blue, ain’t lying like that… un-integrity-like?”
The ballerina pauses. His lips flatten into a thin line as he considers this. But shortly after, his eloquent smile returns, and he pats the top of Yellow’s head in reassurance.
“Well… I admit I will allow a bit of rule-bending, in the name of love. Especially if it’s for you, Yellow.”
The dandelion-hued flower titters and digs the tip of his boots into the floor, embarrassed.“Well, I suppose we don’t have ta’ abide by justice either, then…”
“Why don’t the two of us have a dance afterwards? I could teach you something new, potentially,” the ballerina offers lovingly.
The cowboy laughs, embarrassed. “Yeehaw! Yes! Blue, you can have alla my ‘birthday’ treat. Y’deserve it for being such a wonderful partner!”
Blue reaches to take Yellow’s hand once more, but his lover closes the gap between them instead. He presses a tentative kiss to the dancer’s temple. The flower’s face, in turn, colors a rich indigo as it gently warms.
The cowboy takes the other’s hand, holding as if it might fracture at any hint of pressure. Yellow plants his free hand on his hip.
“Well, what’re we standing idle for? We’re burning daylight!”
And thus, the duo of flowers set off in search of Texas Roadhouse.