Work Text:
The wrong number song, according to Dess, was a song that was to be sung not only when you called the wrong number (like when you were trying to order pizza and called some random guy in a different town instead) but also when you were on the phone with someone and you were mad at them. That was actually how Kris had learned the wrong number song: Carol had called Dess trying to tell her to please make sure to run the dishwasher and Dess had been really mad at her mom for some argument they'd had, so Kris had walked into the kitchen trying to get a glass of chocolate milk only to find Dess singing-yelling the song into the phone before hanging up.
"Hey, Krismas," she'd said, "pour me a glass while you're over there." She'd looked like she was about to cry, which wasn't a thing that Dess did, so Kris had just given her the glass instead of giving her one sip like they normally did when asked to get someone a drink of something. "Thanks."
And then Kris had gone and played some silly song on the piano that Carol hated but Dess sort of liked and they'd told themself not to bring it up because Dess would just brush them off. Say that she was just worried about big kid stuff and Kris wasn't old enough for that yet. Seven was old enough, Kris thought, but Dess didn't so that had been the end of that. Asriel knew, of course he did, how couldn't he with how attached at the hip they were, but he wouldn't even give them a hint. Kris knew this was unfair but said nothing. Maybe Dess had meant it just wasn't human stuff but she didn't want to sound mean. (That was unlike Dess though so Kris assumed it wasn't most of the time.)
Now, though, they were mad at her. Not- not because of anything that was technically their fault. It wasn't like they'd pulled a big prank on Noelle and then Dess had gotten protective and then Kris had gone home early to lay down in their bed with their eyes closed and hope that no one noticed their headaches seemed to be getting worse these days. Wiffle bats were only fun when they were being used for wiffle balls after all. No, this time, Kris was mad at her because she was stealing their brother. Saying that it was fine if it was just her and Asriel hanging out more often than normal because they were big kids. Kris... well, they knew they weren't as tall as Dess (never mind Asriel), but- did Dess not like them as much anymore? Was it because they were human? It wasn't like the answers they got from anyone about it were specific.
Kris had a bit of a plan. If Dess called, and they were the one to pick up the phone, they would use the song. Because that was what you did to people when you were mad and they called you and you didn't feel like talking.
But in order for their plan to work, they needed to be near the phone so they could get it whenever it rang.
"Kris, dear," Mom said, "wouldn't you prefer to... play outside?" She had an awkward smile on her face. "Surely the telephone is not so interesting!" Kris shook their head. They were extremely bored, but they would not pass up the chance to get their revenge. This had to happen. "Alright. If you are going to insist on remaining here, would you help me with the pie?"
Pie. Kris nodded. They'd already seen Mom make the dough for the pie, but the filling wasn't done yet. That meant they could taste some of the filling before it was even in the pie because Mom always had a little bit of leftovers, and they would still be very close to the phone. So they got up from their perch on a couch cushion on the floor right by the phone (they were very dedicated) and washed their hands in the kitchen sink.
Mom was making butterscotch pie again. This meant that Kris could only help by measuring things, but they could still mess around a little. They stood on the chair Mom had brought for them so they could have easier access to the cabinets and countertop.
"Kris, please pass the sugar," she said. Kris passed her a cup of brown sugar. Mom frowned. "It says two-thirds of a cup, not two halves of a cup," she said. But she wasn't too mad. Kris sighed and put a little more than a quarter cup back into the bag. "Alright, dear. Pass me the bowl of egg yolks?"
They continued in this way for a while. Kris didn't hate baking, even if it meant they had to stand on a chair and stir a little bit of delicious mixture that they couldn't eat into egg yolks before letting Mom pour the whole thing into a... pot..? pan...? whatever that thing was called. They were just mad at Dess and it was taking up a lot of their mind. She wasn't the only one who got to hang out with Asriel. Or at least she shouldn't be. Kris... missed her, too. Last week Dess had only hung out with just them once and just Asriel at least four times, and that was weird.
Mom liked it when they talked when they baked. So she asked them questions and Kris didn't always know how to answer. They just... wanted things to stay the same. To go into the forest after school and hang out with Dess and be cool because cool kids went birdwatching and practiced using a compass and taught each other how to make fires out of things on the ground. Kris wasn't very good at that without matches or a lighter yet, but they could get a fire going after a while. And then they'd roast marshmallows on other sticks they'd found in the woods. Sometimes Dess even snuck out some graham crackers and chocolate and they made s'mores.
It was weird being the only human in a monster family. But when Kris closed their eyes and bit into their secret s'mores, they felt normal. Like- like Dess was their big sister, and they weren't weird for wanting their horns to grow in because they would, eventually, and they'd match Dess. The headband tucked behind their ears felt right, just a placeholder for what would come later, when they flopped down onto the forest floor and looked up at the sky, Dess pointing out nerdy nature things that weren't nerdy unlike what Azzy likes because they're cool like the types of clouds in the sky.
Maybe Kris was mad at her for realizing they weren't a monster like they wanted and treating them as a human. Or that had nothing to do with it.
The phone rang. Mom was stirring the filling. "Kris, dear, could you-"
Kris jumped down from their chair and scurried over to the phone as fast as they could. "Hello?" Mom gestured for them to speak a little louder, and they nodded.
"Oh. Krismas? Is Azzy there?" That was Dess. Kris had gotten lucky at last (the first five calls that they'd answered had been from other people- three telemarketers, one from Dad, and one from someone who'd dialled a wrong number and wished to speak with a 'Chara') and they could now have their revenge. They grinned. "Krismas? I swear, if you-"
"It's the wrong number," they began. Kris knew their singing voice wasn't as good as Asriel's or Noelle's or Mom's, but they were still going to try. "The wrong number song. We're very, very sorry that we got it wrong." Mom looked over to see what they were doing. "It's the wrong number, the wrong number song. We're very, very sorry that we got it wrong." Kris could've repeated it again, but Dess seemed to get the point.
"Krismas, what's the matter?" she asked. "I was just going to invite you to have another campfire 'cause Dad left his barbeque lighter in the sink again, but if you're mad-"
A hangout with Dess? Like normal? That... hadn't been what she'd been asking about before Kris started singing, but maybe it was what she'd really wanted to ask. "I'm not that mad," they said. Dess chuckled.
"Alright, Krismas. See you soon," she said. Kris hung up.
"Dess wants to hang out," they said, putting the phone back in its place. Mom gave them a look.
"That was Dess?"
"Mhmm!" Kris climbed back onto the chair. Mom didn't look too impressed, but she let Kris hand her the next ingredient anyway.
"Alright, my dear. You may, but be sure not to be out too late." She patted their head. "All done. Is Dess coming over now, or..."
Kris nodded. They got down off the chair and headed upstairs; the forest could be chilly and Dess probably wouldn't think to mention if it could be cold because she never wore coats. Asriel's favourite sweater was on his bed; they slipped it over their head and rolled up the sleeves so they didn't drag along the floor too much. The sweater went to their knees, but it was comfortable and Kris didn't want to bother finding a different one. Dess was a good runner when she wanted to be.
The doorbell rang just as Kris was leaving their room. They took one step down the stairs and heard Mom's voice. "Ah, Dess! Here to collect Kris, I assume? They'll be downstairs soon."
"Krismas, you're making me wait?" Dess asked as Kris appeared from the stairs. She grinned. "Come on, nerd." She messed with their hair as they walked past her. "I brought chocolate," she whispered. Kris beamed. "Knew that would make you happy." She opened the door, waved goodbye to Mom, promising she'd have them back by dinner, and then the slight persona she put on around adults she liked fell down. "Azzy can't skip cross-country? Not once? Freakin' loser..."
Kris shrugged. They didn't mind it that Asriel did sports, but that probably wasn't why Dess was mad. She was weird though, just like Kris, so she had weird reasons for wanting him to skip cross-country practice. Something about crushes. Maybe that had something to do with why she hung out with him so often. (Asriel liked her too. Kris wouldn't tell Dess because Asriel had said not to, but they sort of wanted to as a prank.)
"But we don't need losers like him, do we, Krismas? We can have fun doing things our way." Dess pulled the lighter out from her pocket and passed it to them. "I'll work with the flint, yeah? You find me a good roasting stick."
Kris nodded. Dess had her binoculars with her today, as well as the old bird guide she'd 'borrowed' from the library. Probably the snacks were in her backpack, along with Asriel's jacket (just in case, she'd swear, just in case she got cold). Kris knew their brother had been asking for the jacket back for a few weeks now, but they weren't sure they wanted to let him have it back. Besides, the couple of times Dess had worn it, they'd felt as if they were matching with her. Like they were normal. Their horns weren't the same colour as her antlers, but when they hung out with her, sometimes they felt like she was their big sister. Just another monster. That was what Kris wanted.
But... were they a monster? They didn't think they were anymore.
They wished their headband could merge with their skull.
"Krismas, what's wrong?" Dess asked as they started down the trail. Marked with spray paint and wooden signs Noelle had made after they'd gotten extremely lost late one night and had only been found because Dess wouldn't give up on getting everyone home. She gave them a look. "Is this about me and Azzy?"
"Sort of," they said. "Can... Am I gonna grow up to have horns, Dess?"
She shrugged. "Does it matter, Krismas? You're still a menace. Always will be." Dess scooped them up; she did that sort of thing to Noelle a lot, and Kris was apparently lighter than her, so maybe it was easy for her, and set them on her shoulders. "Azzy's nerd sibling. Certified weirdo. Kickass piano player." Kris couldn't see her expression, but they assumed she was smiling. "Even if you don't grow up with horns, you're still Kris. We still like you."
That was... okay, actually. Kris felt moisture on their cheek. "Sorry."
"Krismas. Never be sorry for that." Dess stopped. "You're gonna have to duck."
"Quack."
"Very funny."
Kris ducked when the trees brought their branches down. Dess walked a good way down the trail and then a little off the path once she'd determined that this was a good spot. "Alright, Krismas, let's go find some wood." She grinned and lifted them up off her shoulders. "Last one to set up their fire cooks the other's s'mores!"
Dess was always competitive, but then Kris kind of liked roasting marshmallows, so it wouldn't really be a punishment for them. Still, they hurried with the sort of speed Mom would love to see them acquire when they were getting out of bed in the morning as they looked for good sticks. Asriel would've said to only take fallen ones because it would hurt the trees to remove their branches, but Kris knew the real reason to avoid this was because fresh timber was wet and bad for fires, so they contented themself with not cheating by breaking low-hanging branches. Tiny sticks- good for kindling, they remembered Dess saying, and the larger ones made good firewood. They used dry grass for the tinder; sometimes even leaves if there'd been rain.
Kris came back to the clearing with a pile of sticks in their arms, having dropped a few along the way. They set their pile down just as Dess arrived and began stacking their small branches over the dry grass (over dry ground, because though they loved fire, setting the forest on fire was too much). To top it off, they arranged a layer of the larger sticks, keeping a hole big enough to fit their hand and lighter into.
Then, they took the lighter out of their pocket and clicked it. A flame lit up; they lowered it to the dry grass.
"Krismas, no need to brag," Dess said. Her own campfire had just been finished, though she hadn't set it on fire yet. "Do you want me roasting your marshmallows, or are you going to be picky about it?"
There was a distinguished technique that ought to be used when roasting marshmallows, and Dess did not know it yet. She was getting better, but Kris knew exactly how to roast the perfect marshmallow. Kris shook their head. "I'll do it."
Dess rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, perfectionist." She nudged their shoulder. "I guess I have to roast my own today, then?" Kris nodded; it was only fair they got some semblance of a reward. "Or... you get a ride back, too?" They shook their head. They quite liked walking through the woods. "Have it your way, dude." She took out the flint, a piece of suspiciously fancy fabric, and a thing to hit it with. For the next three minutes, Kris waited for their fire to burn brighter as they watched Dess attempt to light the fabric. It was warm now; it chased away the cold of the forest, but it wasn't quite good enough to cook with yet. Dess lit her fire, allowing a piece of an old dress to be sacrificed to the ever-powerful forces of heat, then took her backpack off her shoulders. "Krismas, did you find us some good roasting sticks?"
They shook their head. Dess made a go-away motion at them.
"Krismas, come on."
Kris got up, trusting Dess to not attempt to smother their fire, and headed off into the woods. They immediately missed the warmth of the fire. The sun wasn't setting yet, but their house was a lot warmer than this, and they were shivering a little. It was late fall after all.
Something flew past their head. Kris ducked, but nothing appeared.
Two sticks, perfect for marshmallow roasting, lay before them.
They collected them and hurried back the way they came; Dess didn't need to worry over them.
"Nice, Krismas." Dess took out the hunting knife she'd gotten from somewhere and took the sticks. She liked to strip the bark off of Kris's stick and pare it into a fine point for roasting; for her own, she took a bite of the wood, spat it out if she thought it tasted bad, and then pared it if she found it wasn't to her liking. (She used to do it for both their sticks until Mom found out and banned it because it was unsanitary.) "Feeling better?"
They took a deep breath.
The forest was really pretty this time of year. Chocolate awaited them. Everything felt right, like they belonged and no one was looking at them weird and they were going to be okay.
"Yeah."
"Good." Dess handed them their stick. "Fire looks good. But you're picky, so give it five."
Kris rolled their eyes. Dess bit into her stick. "Does that taste good?"
"Eh. It's not poisonous." She shrugged, but didn't spit it out. Maybe that meant it was good. Kris stared at the stick. "What, you want some off the other end?" They nodded. "Weirdo."
Kris considered it. Then they bit into the bark. It was not easy, and they thought they might've knocked a tooth astray, but it didn't taste awful. The texture was exactly what they had expected, and it didn't taste like it would kill them, so they swallowed it.
"You have way more guts than Elly does with shit like this, I swear. Can't even get her to eat berries unless she knows they're fine." Dess ruffled their hair. "Pass me a marshmallow?"
Kris took the bag of marshmallows out of Dess's bag. "How many?"
"Eh. Three for you, since you won," she said, nudging them. "I'll take two- but one at a time, Kris, I know that look." Kris sighed and handed Dess one marshmallow.
"No fun," they said, taking their own marshmallow. They took a couple graham crackers from the box and snapped them in half. The chocolate bar was extremely appetizing even though it was still in the wrapper. Kris brought the divine treat into their lap and gently unwrapped it. They broke off four pieces of chocolate, resisting the urge to take more and snack on it. Dess raised an eyebrow.
"Hand me two," she said. Kris glanced down at the chocolate bar. It was in rows of two, but that might mess up their later chocolate endeavours- "Krismas. I'm taking two now, two later, it'll work out."
Kris passed her two squares of chocolate. Dess only liked dark chocolate, though she ate the regular chocolate on occasion. S'mores were such an occasion. Kris was the only one who had milk chocolate on a regular basis, but that was because it was extremely sweet even for chocolate standards. On their lap they had their graham cracker pieces, and Dess had hers on her book. They set their chocolate on one half of the cracker and stuck their marshmallow on the stick.
To roast the perfect marshmallow, one must slowly roll it around over the fire, not too close to avoid charring it, but not too far away so it would cook in good time. Kris had taught themself this at the library last year and it had come in handy several times. The sign that the marshmallow was complete was when it was a nice golden colour on the outside, maybe a little brown on the ends. Kris turned their marshmallow at an acceptable rate; as they did so, they snuck a glance at Dess. Her roll velocity was acceptably slow, but her marshmallow was not flat over the fire; the front end was much closer to the flames. If her fire got much bigger, it would risk burning, if it wasn't already at great risk of doing so. Likely, she would struggle to get the marshmallow off her stick cleanly, as the front end would warm up much faster than the back end and so the interior of the marshmallow would not be cooked all the way through. Kris did not tell her this. It was generally funnier not to.
Their marshmallow was done after Dess's, so they didn't get to witness the full spectacle of her struggling to get hers off her stick and then resorting to licking the sugar that was left off of it when she eventually lost to the power of improperly cooked marshmallows. But they did get to make her roll her eyes when they pried their own marshmallow off dang near perfectly, and to rub salt in the wound, they copied Dess as they licked the remnants off.
"Gross, Krismas. Who taught you how to do that, Azzy?"
"No," they said, staring right at her. Kris set their stick on their lap, picking up their s'more with the other hand. They expected it to be delicious, and they were rewarded by knowing they were correct when they took their first bite. "You just did." They stuck their tongue out, not caring that it probably still had marshmallow stuck to it.
"Swallow before you speak, weirdo!" Dess, who also had a habit of talking with food in her mouth, was not the kind of person Kris was inclined to listen to on this issue unless she was encouraging them. She placed her entire s'more in her mouth and chewed it. Kris wondered if they could fit theirs in their mouth, but decided against it, as they would get to taste more chocolate by taking more bites.
"Dess," they began, "is there moss on your stick?"
She glanced at it. "A little, yeah."
Kris's eyes lit up. Their stick had contained no moss, and they hadn't had the time to consume any when they'd been racing to set up their fire. "Pass it."
"Krismas, you really do have guts." Dess handed them her stick. Kris looked down at the moss. There wasn't much of it, but there was enough to consume. "Perpetuating the cycle of life again?"
Kris ate the moss. "Yes."
They passed Dess her stick back. "Second marshmallow?" she asked. Kris passed her one and took one for themself. This time, Dess broke the crackers and distributed the chocolate.
Marshmallow number two went as normal for Kris, but Dess accidentally burned the end of hers. They wanted to laugh, but they knew that Dess would still eat it, and Kris would too. At least Dess managed to mostly cook hers through and there wasn't as much left on the stick. They ate their second s'mores together. A bird wandered over to them.
"Ooh, a cardinal!" Dess sounded so excited. Kris had been surprised the first time they'd seen her so happy over a bird, but then they sort of understood why even if they didn't quite get it. She didn't take a picture of it; she just watched it for a little while as Kris took their third and final marshmallow. They prepared their supplies and began to roast it; thankfully the cardinal wasn't getting too close because of the fire. Kris removed their final perfect marshmallow and gently set their stick down.
As they ate their s'more, trying to be as quiet as possible so Dess could continue to observe the bird, they watched it wander close to the fire, then retreat when it realized how warm it was, then attempt to pick up some of Kris's cracker crumbs that had blown away from the fire. A few minutes after Kris finished eating, the bird flew away, apparently in search of something.
"Cool," Dess said. "Krismas, you good?"
They nodded.
"We should do this more often." Dess glanced at the fires, then at Kris. "Don't gotta leave now if you don't want to."
Kris shook their head. They... sort of liked it here.
The wind gusted through the trees. Kris shivered.
"Emergency jacket time?" Dess asked. She grinned. "Do you know how low my mom sets the thermostat at night? It's like she's trying to make me sleep outside where it's warmer." She unzipped her backpack and pulled out Asriel's jacket. Then she draped it around Kris's shoulders.
It was sort of like getting a hug.
Then Dess gave them an actual hug, a brief one, but it was still nice. Kris smiled.
"Another hour or so?" Dess set a large stick on her fire. "You think?" She checked her watch. "Yeah, we can take two if you can run back home."
Kris frowned. "Only if you carry me."
"Hour and a half."
"Okay."
Kris placed a good piece of wood on their fire. They watched the flames dance for a while, saying nothing and doing little except putting more wood onto it when it began to turn to ash. Dess did the same, except she also kept a lookout for wildlife and occasionally made noise to scare off anything that might be lurking around them.
This- they wanted to do this more often. But then it wouldn't be as fun or as special, right? At least that was what Mom had said when Kris had asked why they couldn't have their birthday every day. Kris didn't believe that more s'mores made s'mores worse, but apparently that was supposed to happen. "Dess?"
"Yeah?"
"Can we... do this more often?"
"Sure, Krismas." She scooted a little closer to them; she'd packed up her backpack and all the delicious things in it a few minutes ago. "Miss me?"
"Sometimes."
"Heh, at least you're honest. Azzy does that silly- what is it? I miss you all the time? I mean... even when we're hanging out?"
Kris bit their lip.
"What do you know that I don't, Krismas?" Dess nudged their shoulder. "What, Azzy swear you to secrecy?"
They nodded.
"Fine, fine. I can't even bribe you with the rest of the chocolate bar?"
Kris had to resist the temptation, as it would be funnier to witness Dess and Asriel wondering if the other had a crush on them for a while. "Nope."
"My slice of butterscotch pie next time I have dinner with you guys?"
"Nope."
Dess gave them a look but said nothing more.
No more wood was put on the fire. It was getting too late.
Kris watched as the fires slowly burned all the way to ash. Perpetuating more cycles, it seemed.
They wished it could remain this way forever. Running around the forest with Dess, making s'mores, eating moss, getting home late on school nights, keeping secrets because it was funny and not because it was important.
But it wouldn't, right? Nothing so good would ever last forever. Pie and chocolate didn't.
They fell asleep, head resting against Dess's shoulder. Familiar hands doused the fires in water and carried them home in time for dinner.
I'll never leave you alone, Krismas, they thought they heard. I'm always going to be here for you, got it? Even if you hate it. It's my job. Always will be.
(A promise that would not be kept.)