Chapter Text
[Chara]
Albeit somewhat reluctantly, you follow your brother into the little hole-in-the-wall coffee shop/bakery he’s been eyeing from your route to school for the past three weeks. You have twenty minutes to spare before you have to get to school - time you would much rather spend asleep, but Asriel is nothing if not stubborn. You don’t know what you’d actually want in a coffee shop, but the cozy-looking sign is less than promising.
The interior smells of cinnamon, yeast, and, surprisingly enough, coffee. There aren’t very many tables, and there’s only a couple of patrons scattered about. Pop music drifts quietly from the speakers. You stare at the menu for a while, taking in the various cutesy names for various drinks, hoping they at least have a significant amount of caffeine in them.
A suspiciously cheery kid smiles at you from behind the counter. You glare at them, taking notice of their name tag. It’s unusually large, actually, so that you can read it even from where you stand, and there’s a handwritten message under their name that you can just make out.
Hello, my name is Frisk,
and my pronouns are they/them.
You have to stop yourself from grinning like an idiot. That kid must be so damn trusting. it hardly seems to coincide with a job in customer service.
Asriel approaches the counter before you can decide what you want and orders something you don’t hear. Frisk takes his order and then looks at you expectantly. You squint at the menu again, remembering that you actually need caffeine today.
“What do you have that could kill a small elephant?” you ask, not wanting to say the names of any of these drinks out loud.
Frisk, although startled, appears to legitimately consider your question. “Do you mean from the caffeine, or are you asking if we carry arsenic?”
“Uh,” you look back at the menu in confusion, “do you actually carry arsenic?”
Frisk just smiles at you, then presses some buttons on the register and says, “That’ll be three ninety eight.”
“What’ll be three ninety eight??”
“A drink that could kill a small elephant,” Frisk replies cooly, grin widening.
“Are you serious???”
Frisk’s smile falls suddenly. “What?” they ask innocently. “Are you scared your stomach is weaker than a baby elephant’s?”
“Wh- I’m not scared!”
“Good!” they chirp, smile returning.
You pull out your wallet and slam the money on the counter before they can embarrass you any further. You can feel Asriel’s grin on the back of your neck. Frisk takes the money and cheerfully begins making your drinks. Asriel puts an arm around you. “You’re cute when you’re flustered,” he whispers.
You shove him away from you and stomp towards the nearest empty table. Asriel brings the drinks a few minutes later and places one in front of you. “And you used to make fun of me for being gullible,” he says.
“Shut up,” you mutter. “That kid’s a master of deceit.”
“They never actually said it’s poisonous.”
“Exactly! The best lie is the one that isn’t a lie at all.” You turn your attention to the drink he set in front of you. At this point, you almost hope it is poisonous.
You glance at the kid behind the counter, who isn’t making an effort to hide the fact that they’re watching you. You maintain eye contact while chugging the entire drink at once. It’s scalding hot, but other than that it’s actually pretty damn good. It tastes of chocolate and caramel, with a hint of cinnamon. Frisk’s smile only widens when you slam the cup indignantly on the table and grin triumphantly back at them.
“And you didn’t think I could handle it,” you tell them on the way out.
“Give it a couple hours,” they reply coyly, winking.
Lunchtime finds you and Asriel in the library and you have regrets. “Azzy I’m going to throw up.”
“Try not to do it on my homework.”
You look up at him and make your eyes as wide as possible. “I can hear my blood, Azzy.”
“This is your own fault, Chara.”
“You need to take me to the hospital. I think I’ve actually been poisoned.”
“That changes nothing.”
“Betrayaaaaal.” You groan loudly.
“Shh.”
“I’m DYING, Asriel.”
“Well, die quieter. I need to study.”
You slam your head back on the table. “I’m never going back there again.”
“Aw, come on,” Azzy chides. “I know you think that barista is cute~”
You scan the table briefly for something to smack him with, but the motion reminds you of your nausea so you return your face to the table and flip him off instead. “I’ve been poisoned, Azzy,” you say, quieter now, “It doesn’t matter if they’re cute.”
[Frisk]
You set up shop the next morning with an extra spring in your step, wondering if that person from before will come by again. You should really learn their name, you think. (And their pronouns, for that matter. They seemed to make a point of presenting as androgynously as possible, but maybe that’s just you projecting. Still, it hadn’t slipped by your notice when they smiled at your nametag.)
The first customers to enter, as usual, are Sans and his brother. You aren’t sure why they insist on checking on you at work every morning when you literally live in the same apartment, but Sans can never be bothered to wake up in time to see you off.
Why he considers this easier is anyone’s guess.
“FRISK!” shouts Papyrus, vaulting over the counter and picking you up in an aggressive hug. “HOW IS MY LITTLE SIBLING ON THIS FINE MORNING?”
You grin to yourself at being called sibling. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to that. “I’m great,” you reply when he puts you down. Sans shuffles over to the counter. The cheap surgical mask he always wears has a smile drawn on it in magic marker, but you can see the edges curling up in a genuine smile underneath.
“OF COURSE!” replies Papyrus, striking a pose, “ONE SO OFTEN IN THE PRESENCE OF THE GREAT PAPYRUS SHALL NEVER FEEL DOWN! OUR BRILLIANT PLAN IS A BONAFIDE SUCCESS! NYEH HEH HEH”
“don’t you mean ‘bone-afied’?” adds Sans, basking in his brother’s subsequent frustration. “oh, hey kid,” he turns to you and pulls an energy drink out of his coat pocket, “did you want another one of these? i noticed one was missing from my stash yesterday.”
“Oh, I didn’t actually drink it,” you tell him. “A customer asked for a drink that could kill a small elephant, so I brewed it with that instead of water.”
You take in the faces of the brothers one at a time, grinning. Papyrus looks horrified, but Sans is beaming. “oh my god,” he whispers. “papyrus, our lil’ sib is all grown up. they’re pulling pranks on unsuspecting customers. i’m so proud.”
“IS THAT SAFE...?” asks Papyrus.
“They looked about my age,” you tell him, shrugging, “so I’m guessing they have a pretty high tolerance. Besides, I told them it was poisoned and they drank it anyway.”
Sans starts laughing.
“DOES MUFFET KNOW?” asks Papyrus.
“No,” you admit, “but I doubt she would care. I mean, she made a point of giving me permission to stab anyone who misgenders me.”
“I ASSUMED SHE WAS JOKING ABOUT THAT.”
“So did I. Then I found the broadsword under the counter.”
Sans’ laughter cuts off for a moment before continuing even louder. You laugh along, watching as Papyrus fights back a smile.
The door chimes and Papyrus vaults back to the other side of the counter so you can greet the customers. After a few minutes, the brothers purchase a donut each and head off to Papyrus’s job at the police station and whatever it is Sans does for a living.
About an hour into your shift, the tall white haired boy from before walks in and smiles at you, reading the menu for a while before walking over. You greet him with a smile, hiding your disappointment at seeing him alone.
“Where’s your friend?” you find yourself asking while you make his drink.
“Sibling, actually,” he corrects politely, “and they’re probably sulking somewhere.”
“What’s wrong?” you ask, trying to make your concern more prominent in your voice than your joy at learning the person’s pronouns are the same as yours.
The boy rolls his eyes. “Surprisingly enough, asking for the most caffeinated drink you have wasn’t the smartest decision on their part.”
“Oh no, are they okay?” you ask, speaking a lot faster than you meant to. “They seemed like the kind of person who would have a really high tolerance, I didn’t mean for them to actually get sick.”
“They’re fine,” he says, “Chara always overreacts to stuff like this.”
You know he means for that to be comforting, but you still feel bad. After handing him his drink, you grab a donut from the display and give it to him. “Would you give them this for me? As an apology?”
He looks surprised, but takes it anyway and smiles. “Sure,” he says. “I’ll make sure they get it.”
[Chara]
When you sit next to Asriel for first period, he plops a paper bag on your desk without looking up from his homework. You open it, a little suspicious, and see a donut inside. “You got me a donut?” you ask, raising an eyebrow at him.
“No, actually that’s from the barista. They felt pretty bad about making you sick yesterday so they gave it to me for free.”
You look back at the donut, surprised, before your stomach rudely reminds you that you hadn’t had time for breakfast that morning. “Did they poison this one, too?” you ask bitterly, taking a bite before he can answer.
It’s a monstrosity of a donut, covered in chocolate icing and rainbow sprinkles, but you have to admit it tastes pretty good. The chocolate is baked into the donut itself, not just thrown on top at the last minute, and it’s a little less sweet than donuts normally are, the sugar taking a back seat to the chocolate.
Did Asriel tell them you like chocolate? That traitor. He’s probably giving away all your weaknesses. You’ll be dead by the end of the month, or else in a chocolate induced sugar coma. You grumble, attempting to toss the wrapper in the trash from across the room and missing by three feet.
Asriel glares at you until you stand up to retrieve it.
The next day, You follow Asriel into the store under the pretense of wanting to chew the smartass barista out for poisoning your coffee. That plan goes out the window as soon as you make eye contact with the poor idiot, who beams at you from across the room as soon as they see you enter. Asriel gives you a knowing smile and you glare at him before walking up to the counter.
“You came back!” chirps the barista, bouncing up and down behind the counter. They stop after a moment and lean against it, expression falling slightly. “I’m really sorry about the other day. I didn’t mean for you to get sick.”
You open your mouth to say something mean, but before you can you notice their expression. They look so vulnerable, half-frowning at you from behind the ribbon tied in their hair that’s falling in their face and shit they’re cute.
Your face starts to feel warm and you force yourself to look away. “Don’t worry about it,” you mutter. Frisk’s smile returns full force and you hear your brother walking up behind you. “So what do you have that doesn’t have any caffeine in it at all?”
“Well, we have like five different kinds of hot chocolate, some herbal teas...”
“Give me the chocolatey-est hot chocolate you have.”
Frisk smiles and rings you up, and you leave to find a table before your brother can embarrass you again.
“You are the most tsundere person I have ever met,” teases Asriel, placing a cup of chocolatey goodness in front of you.
“Shut up,” you mutter, blowing on the surface before taking a sip. It doesn’t disappoint, sadly. It’s just sweet enough to take the edge off the bitterness in the chocolate without overpowering it. It’s pure bliss. You scowl at it.
“It’s not like I like you or anything, baka,” Asriel mocks. You’re tempted to throw your drink in his face, but that would be such a waste of good chocolate. You flip him off instead. He laughs. “Oh, by the way,” he adds, tone turning conspiratorial, “they wrote something on your cup.”
Your face gets hot again, but you turn your cup around to see something written on the side, unfathomably neat.
It’s a phone number.
[Frisk]
You watch Chara turn the cup around to look at your number and smile when their face turns bright red. They look up at you. You wink at them. Flustered, they look back down at the cup and after a moment, pull out their phone and start tapping it. Your phone buzzes. You pull it out to see a text from an unknown number.
*Seriously??
Grinning like an idiot, you add the number to your contacts and text back.
*Why not?
*When I asked you about poison and elephants I wasn’t expecting your reaction to be HITTING ON ME!
*Your face is bright red right now. It’s adorable.
*Did my brother put you up to this?? I bet he told you to give me chocolate too.
*Nah, I just figured. I mean, who doesn’t like chocolate?
*Heathens.
You stifle a laugh. The doorbell dings and you put your phone away to greet a customer. Halfway through their order you feel your phone buzz again, and you take it out when you’re done to see another text from Chara.
*How old are you, anyway?
*15. You?
*16. Shouldn’t you be in school right now? When does your shift end?
*I could ask the same of you, but no.
*I’m working on getting a GED. Long story.
*What’s your excuse?
*We still have like five minutes. I’m never late.
*You will be if you keep ignoring your drink to text me.
*I’m NEVER late.
Despite the tone of their text, they do start drinking their chocolate a lot faster. They leave a couple minutes later, and you guess that if their school starts on the hour, they’ll have exactly three minutes to be in class, ready to go. You wonder if they were being sarcastic.
You and Chara continue texting on and off for the rest of the day. You know you’re probably distracting them from school, but they’re distracting you from work, so it’s even. You’re wiping down a table around 3:30 when the door chimes again and you turn to greet...
Chara, who looks a little awkward standing in the doorway staring at you. You smile, finishing your work quickly and returning to the counter. “Twice in one day,” you remark. “Could it be Grump McGrumperson has a soft spot for lil’ old me?”
“I-” they raise a hand to object, but stop themself. “I just wanted to say hi without my idiot brother mocking me for it.”
You laugh a little, resting your head on your hands. “Well, hello then.”
Before Chara can say anything else, a voice interrupts from the kitchen. “Frisk, dearie~” You turn to see Muffet sashaying into the room. “What have I told you about flirting with the customers?”
“I’m not flirting,” you lie. “This is just a friendly conversation, between friends. Flirting would be like...” You think for a second before making finger guns. “Hey Chara, are your legs made of nutella? Because-”
Before you can finish, Muffet places a hand on your shoulder with a smile that says, I’m going to eat you alive if you finish that sentence. “Why don’t you take over dishwashing duty for a bit?” she asks. It isn’t a question. You hide your disappointment behind a smile and wave to Chara before heading into the kitchen.
Before you start working on the dishes, you pull out your phone and send them a text.
*Because I’d love to spread them ;)
Maybe it’s a little too sexual a pickup line, but it was all you could remember on such short notice. You put your phone away and get to work, not expecting a reply.
Ten minutes later, your phone buzzes.
*I’m not even going to dignify that with a response.
*But as long as we’re definitely not flirting,
*Are you free on Saturday?
*After 3, yeah.
*Meet me here.
*Great. I’ll see you then.