A/N: Looks like I gained the DETERMINATION to finally update. Thanks for beings so patience all y'all.

~Chapter Five~

Smiley Trashbag's neon blue gaze was burning into depths of Flowey's non-existent SOUL.

The moment Frisk left, Flowey braced himself from the wrath of the stupid skeleton. But after the first three minutes of Sans's insistent death glare, Flowey began to doubt his true intentions. Jeering at the darkness where Sans waited, Flowey couldn't take it any longer. He was sick of Smiley Trashbag sitting in the shadows, glaring at Flowey with his menacing blue stare, and worse of all not even doing anything. Finding some gusto, Flowey pipes up, "What do you always love to say when you try to look menacing? 'you're gonna have a bad time.'" Flowey's face morphs into a mock impression of Sans for a moment. It shifts back fluently, and Flowey does a raspberry at Sans's direction.

"So what didja come down here for, buddy?"

He quivers when Sans finally stands up, his gaze not leaving him. His right eye was on fire with blue magic. The air was thick with it. Shuffling his bony feet in his bathroom slippers, Sans cocks his head. His smile seem wider than usual. God, it was annoying.

"heh."

He paces closer to Flowey, slow and leisurely. Flowey uneasily shifts his gaze from Sans, feeling any ounce of bravado he once had, dissipate with each step the skeleton took towards him. Sans's hands are shoved deep into his pockets, and his hoodie covering his skull. Flowey kept his eyes trained on his hands, watching for any signs of sudden movement.

"i know what you did. well, technically, it never happened in the first place, did it?"

He feigned ignorance.

"Gee Smiley Trashbag, think you drank too much spoiled ketchup - urgh!" Magic chokes up Flowey's taunt. Fear strikes his roots, seeing Sans raise his right hand. It's vibrating with magic, pulsating. Memories of the other timelines flash before Flowey's eyes. Seeing no use in trying to fake his reaction, Flowey gasps through the suffocating magical energy, "You caused a fair share of RESETS when I had the DETERMINATION."

The grip on him lifts, thankfully. Sans puts his hand back into his pocket. It was foolish, but Flowey felt some sense of relief.

"Piece of garbage," Flowey mutters out of the side of his mouth, hoping that this will at least earn him a last laugh.

Sans shows no indication he heard this side-insult. The smile on the skeleton's face is overbearing, though. Too forced, too wide, and taking up way too much of his face. What was the point in trying to fake such a happy expression, anyway?

"thought so. buddy." Sans emphasizes the last part of his sentence, mockingly imitating Flowey's admittedly high-pitched voice.

He turns his back on Flowey, staring up at the opening leading to the Underground.

"s' almost dawn. pretty beautiful when the sun comes up. the birds start singing, and kids start playing out on the streets. on a new day like this, i'd still be sleeping. so you're right." Sans turns back to Flowey, eyes devoid of any light at all. His face is the picture of death. Flowey gulps, his petals dropping from fear. "i wouldn't be down here if i had a good reason."

They stare at each other. Flowey stays frozen, as if hoping this monster who has the power to shred him into ribbons, would no longer notice him. Finally, the pinpricks of light return to Sans's eye sockets, however this time his smile smaller than before. His shoulders sink, no longer held in a stiff position.

"got a shot of energy. after i figured the kid was coming down here to see you - well i decided it was time for a little chat."

Talking about Frisk and his not-so-subtle threat, somehow he looked...smaller? Tired's the right word. Flowey comments silently, watching Sans carefully. Slightly, ever so slightly, Sans's smile actually matched a frown. If that made any sense. "listen here, flowey." Sans says rather sharply, quickly bouncing out of his depressing state. "be thankful that the kid was here to talk me down. if they weren't here, well - i wouldn't have guranteed your safety by the time dawn cracked."

"You can't hurt me. They'd hate you." Flowey finally speaks up, finding some strength when thinking of Frisk.

Sans's smile only widens at his retort. And Flowey knew he pressed the wrong button.

"heh. heheheh. listen here buddy ol' pal of mine." Sans lowers himself to match Flowey's height. As much as possible, Flowey leans away from the skeleton. If only he could move - ! "you don't know frisk, kay? you don't know them as well as i do." A smile is no longer present. Oh shit. Is all that registers in Flowey's mind. "you know if they like burgers and fries? or their life before they fell to the underground? or what makes them laugh?" Sans leans in closer to Flowey, putting a hand next to his non-existent ear. His taunts were like a slap in the face. In defeat, Flowey could not answer.

"thought so." A smile is back on his face, satisfied. "don't you ever try to say something along those lines again. kapeesh?" He rises, finally out of Flowey's personal space. He breathes out shakingly. "truth is, i lost the energy to actually do anything to you. not like it's worth wasting anything on you in the first place. sides' you're not so much of a threat anymore. just a weed that grew by accident."

Flowey bristles his leaves, grinding his teeth. Oh, oh, oh, if he could wipe that smug smile off this Smiley Shitbag's face, he'd - he'd!

"see you around. buddy." Sans says with a wink.

And he was gone just as the sunlight arrived.

Flowey might have told Frisk of his conversation with Sans. But they had company.

He cringed at the sight of Toriel holding Frisk's hand. In her other hand is a picnic basket. Mouth glued shut, Flowey did his best to glare daggers at Frisk. They only smile, absent minded of the trauma-inducing conversation Flowey mulled through and his obvious anger. Screaming loudly in his mind, Flowey tried to hide his face. "Flowey?" Calls out Toriel. He was a fool for answering. He glances up to see the kind face of the former Queen. She is dressed in a simple sweater despite the hot summer weather and a light green skirt.

"Frisk has told me so much about you. After I caught them sneaking back into their room in the middle of the night," She says, giving Frisk a quick stern side-glare. They only shrug, nervously smiling. This almost draws a snort out of Flowey, but he pushes it back down. Instead, he sticks his tongue at Frisk, as if to say, "Nyeh nyeh nyeh, serves you right!" He hoped this message was conveyed well. Toriel chuckles at Flowey's childish action. He pouts, and grunts loudly, angered that she managed to elicit a reaction out of him.

"Would you mind of Frisk and I keep you some company for today?"

Flowey stays silent for a moment. He liked to have not answered and ignore the presence of Toriel and Frisk. But he nodded. And the next thing he knew, a blanket is spread out besides him, and he's forced to participate in...a 'pick-nick' or whatever Toriel referred to it as. His eyes linger on the butterscotch-cinnamon pie in the center of the grand meal Toriel prepared. Flowey's mouth waters, warm memories that were not his breezing through his mind. A warm feeling - no a bouncing and unruly emotion matching excitement blossoms within him. Tears prick in his eyes, as he briefly remembers a smiling image of Chara jumping and squealing at the appearance of Toriel's famous pies.

"Would you like some?"

Flowey blinks out of these overwhelming thoughts.

Still mute, Flowey looks back and forth between the pie and Toriel. His willpower is not strong, though. He nods once again. The least he could do is not speak. Happily, Toriel complies, slicing a small piece for Flowey. Then, he stares between the leaves that serve for his hands and the tempting plate of pie sitting in front of him. Right. No hands. This is going to be an issue - "Mmph?!" Frisk spoons some pie into his mouth. Just as he was going to go on a rant on how he shouldn't be treated like some sort of helpless baby - the smooth and buttery flavor of butterscotch and perfect spicy hint of cinnamon hits his tongue, Flowey is tamed.

Begrudgingly, he lets Frisk spoon-feed him.

"I'm glad you like my cooking, Flowey." Toriel smiles down at him.

He nods, not meeting her gentle gaze.

"Ah, still not talking? I understand it may be hard for some to get used to meeting new people. I will be patient. But I do want to say thank you."

This time - by accident - Flowey returns his gaze. In return, he only stiffly nods to answer Toriel's gratitude.

"Don't worry Mom. He'll come around." Frisk grins at Flowey, albeit a bit too cheerful. Flowey scowls at them, knowing they were probably ecstatic out of their mind to see him and Toriel interact. "We just have to take this one step at a time."

The rest of the summer day went on leisurely and sluggish. Unlike some days where the heat was plain unbearable, it was just the right amount of warmth where Flowey's petals can survive perfectly without getting fried from the intense sunlight. Frisk and Toriel combined weren't that bad of company. When Frisk attempted to talk with Flowey, and saw that he refused to talk in...her presence, Frisk adapted immediately and went on their merry activities without crossing him. Toriel didn't even need to ask Flowey whether he wanted to speak with her or not - with a warm smile, she simply made herself comfy and did not force Flowey into a conversation whatsoever.

Even after all this time, she still had good intuition.

Though for most of the picnic, there was not much talking amongst the strange three. Toriel settled with reading a book, titled, To Kill a Mockingbird. Frisk was content with laying down and staring upwards at the sky peeking through the jagged entrance inconveniently leading to the Underground. Normally, Flowey despised silence. It meant boring. Something needs to be happening in the background, something worth his time that entertains him needs to be done. This particular hatred for silence certainly didn't help Flowey's situation being stuck in the Underground.

This sort of silence is different from what he has experienced. Flowey pauses to look at the peaceful scene of Toriel quietly devouring her book and Frisk completely and utterly satisfied just laying spread out on the picnic blanket, taking in the scenery. So mundane, so easily over-looked, in some ways, boring. But it was...nice? Simply being in the presence of others and carrying on with everyday activities is somehow comforting to Flowey.

There were no words needed to be said, there was no dramatic happenings to elicit reactions out of his companions, nothing needed to be done. Everything is fine as it is.

Dumbfolded by this not-quite-spectacular revelation, Flowey decides silently he wouldn't mind spending the rest of his days like this. He had spare time. What's his left of his life is nothing but spare time.

A/N: This chapter may or may not made up for my unexpected absence...