Toriel (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
angrygoatmom) wrote2016-06-16 08:19 pm
angrygoatmom) wrote2016-06-16 08:19 pm
a sweet mafia au you might say
The flowers were blooming nicely, despite everything.
Toriel hadn't really meant to cause so much trouble, but she just couldn't stand it any longer. The mob wife left and never returned, wanting to be so far removed from the society that she was entrenched in for most of her life that she took up residence in one of the abandoned house in the outskirts of the city, almost into the forest that surrounded it. It took some handiwork, but she got the inside in a presentable condition.
She even set up a nice little garden by the window. Toriel missed going outside, but it was best for her to lay low for awhile. A long while.
"At least there is someone here to take care of the flowers," Toriel smiled to herself softly humming. She propped up the window, just to give the house some air. Even so, there was an eerie stillness about the abandoned block, normally undisturbed except for some teenaged daredevils now and then. And she expected it to stay that way for the rest of the night, at least.
Besides, what was she going to do if she had company? Invite them inside for pie?
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Sans was a soldier in the family whose abilities could have made him a capo if he wasn't so lazy and/or attached to his brother. Still, his skills were quietly known by both Asgore and his underbosses, and he was occasionally called in to do some dirty jobs. Unfortunately, mob life was dangerous and Sans was no exception to it. Grimacing, he shuffled into the abandoned block.
It was already dark, which was good. It'd be easier for Sans to hide, though he was pretty sure he was far away from anyone who was gunning for him by now. He picks a house that looked empty enough and shuffled up the steps. He caught a breath he hadn't even realized he was holding, and forced himself as still as possible.
One hand held a trombone case, and the other was holding his ribcage. Though he wasn't so fragile that a papercut would kill him, he didn't take being injured well. A small crack that ran along one of his ribs hurt like nothing else. Ugh. Quietly, he cursed himself for not bringing any food to heal himself on. This was supposed to be an easy job. He should have figured things were never that simple.
The skeleton sighed and leaned his back against the door. He slid down until he was sitting. Welp. Might as well catch his breath. He wasn't going to get any farther like this, much less a phone to call Papyrus on. He definitely wasn't getting home tonight. He'd have to break into the house while he was at it. Right now, though, he just wanted to sit. He props his trombone case next to him, then idly brings the back of his knuckle to the door and knocks.
"Knock-knock."
Heh. Might as well keep himself entertained.
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A very tired "Knock-Knock."
Toriel would have ignored it, except it sounded very... strained. It did not sound like someone was looking for her, or even trying to force entry. She could have continued to ignore it, but if there was someone far enough out here looking for something, then Toriel didn't want to ignore them. They could have been from Asgore's group, yes, but it could also just be a stranger looking for shelter for the night.
It wasn't in Toriel's nature to ignore a person in need, and it certainly was not on her nature to ignore a potentially bad joke either. She approached the door, and cautiously called out, also walking into said bad joke.
"Who's there?"
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Sans blinked. He stilled, fist still hovering at the door. It wasn't the first time he had picked a random door to "knock out" some practice jokes on, even if he was mostly doing it this time to take a breather and distract himself. He just hadn't expected someone to answer.
Wasn't this place supposed to be abandoned? More than half the houses in the neighborhood were plastered with "condemned" signs, too dilapidated and fallen apart to be livable. When did someone move in?
... In his brief surprise, Sans decided it didn't matter. Huh. Someone lived here after all. More power to them. His posture relaxed again and he decided that, naturally, he should finish the joke.
"Cash."
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Besides, Toriel wanted to hear the rest of the joke.
"Cash who?" She couldn't help but chuckle, the tenseness of the situation being completely lost on her.
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Even if she can't see it, Sans shrugs an arm up in the air. He makes especially sure it's the arm opposite to his crack, but that's another story.
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"You came all the way over here for that? You must be nuts!"
Her paw was on the handle, but Toriel didn't quite open it yet. Years of hiding from Asgore's men made old habits hard to break, and perhaps she was still testing the intentions of this stranger. And yet... well, who would think to trick an old woman like her with a knock knock joke?
"Did you hear the joke about peanut butter?"
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There's a brief silence at the other end of the door. Sans is already grinning wide and enormous.
"Nope. How's it go?"
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"I can't tell you... It might spread!"
A great jape right there. A good joke. She listened carefully, hoping that the stranger would find it funny.
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Pfffffffffffft.
Okay, the payoff was 100% worth it. Sans cracks up. Whoever this woman was, she was good. REALLY good.
"Holy cow."
The skeleton keeps snickering. It's not a guffaw or anything like that, but he definitely finds it hilarious. Unfortunately, he laughs just a little too hard - and he feels his ribs shift again. His laughter is briefly peppered with a sputter of coughs.
"Oh man."
Okay, okay. He calms down just a little more. The half-laughter, half-coughing finally dies down as he slides against the door just a little more, holding his chest.
"You're good at this."