Cheeky

notes: for Soriel Week Day 2, prompt "sleep"! This was originally supposed to be part of a longer thing, but I didn't have time in the end, so...have a little piece of completely plotless, pointless awkward door-flirting instead! if you're down for that c:

That first time, it took her a little while to notice; it was, after all, not unusual for them to fall into companionable silence in between jokes, or as the conversation came to a natural pause and she was content enough just to lean back against the door, comforted by the knowledge that there was still a friendly voice on the other side.

Said voice, however, had now been absent for long enough that the silence was growing less comfortable, and more awkward. Toriel frowned, fidgeting with her paws as she ran through the conversation in her head – she had been enjoying the company as much as every other time, but now she was beginning to worry if she could possibly have upset or offended him in some way.

"My friend?" It occurred to her that perhaps he had already left, but that would have been very unusual – they always said goodnight before parting ways, and in any case, she would surely have heard...Then, pressing her ear to the door, she heard it: the quiet but distinctive sound of snoring, a steady, rhythmic rumble reassuring her that her friend was still present – in body, if not in consciousness.

Toriel pressed a paw to her mouth, stifling the giggle that bubbled up in her throat so as not to startle him. She would leave him in peace for a few more moments, she decided, smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Moments soon turned into minutes, until it became apparent she would have to take action: as unexpectedly endearing as it was, she could hardly leave him asleep in the snow all night. Besides, she was unsure what could be considered an appropriate amount of time to sit watching – well, overhearing – a stranger sleeping, but she was fairly certain they were about to surpass it.

She cleared her throat and rapped her knuckles twice on the door in their customary greeting. "Hello?"

The door gave the slightest creak, indicating the barest of movements from the other side. "Papyrus," came the sleepy, half-muffled reply, "get the door."

Toriel did not quite manage to suppress her undignified snort this time, but persisted anyway, knocking a little louder. "No, my friend, I'm afraid it is still me!"

"Alright, I'm..." Sitting close against the door, she could almost feel him stir, the sound of scuffling in the snow as she imagined the proverbial penny dropping. "...still here. That's, heh, probably not great. Lady...?" His voice was rougher than usual, scratchy from sleep under the sheepish chuckle. "Geez, sorry about that – how long was I out for? Didn't mean to leave you hanging – I hope you weren't worried, or anything."

Toriel smiled; though not exactly accustomed to her audience falling asleep mid-conversation, somehow she could not bring herself to take offence. "That is alright, my friend, I am glad to hear you are still with us! A little warning would be nice, in the future, but we all need the occasional nap, do we not? In fact, I must admit," she could not resist adding, a hint of mischief creeping in as she winked, before remembering he could not see her, "you sounded rather cute."

There was a peculiar pffft noise through the door – it sounded like a mix of amusement, incredulity and the slightest hint of embarrassment. "Uhhh – cute, really? Can't say I get that one a lot."

"Oh, my – nobody has ever told you you are cute before?" That seemed to Toriel like a grave injustice. "I must say, I find that very hard to believe."

"Nobody sober, anyway. Hey, cut it out," he laughed, with an uncharacteristic shyness she was almost certain was exaggerated for comic effect, "you're gonna make me blush."

"Oh dear, I am afraid that is not helping your case for not being cute at all," Toriel informed him with mock seriousness, despite barely holding back her giggles at that unexpectedly adorable thought. She tried to picture it, but their unspoken agreement to reveal as little as possible of their identities – including what type of monsters they were – made that difficult. She recalled Snowdin having a large population of bunnies, but her friend's voice seemed much too deep for that to be the case. A bear, perhaps...? "If only I could see you, then I would be able to properly judge for myself."

"No offence, but right now, I'm kinda glad you can't."

She grinned. "Ah, so you are blushing?"

"Maaaybe," he drawled, echoing her teasing sing-song. "Maybe not. Maybe I don't even have cheeks. Guess I'm gonna have to up my game now," he added, after a thoughtful pause, "to make you blush."

"Oh, are you, now?" Was he...was he flirting with her? No, of course not – just joking around, as they always did, and yet for some reason Toriel's body was already betraying her, heat rising to her cheeks as butterflies stirred, unexpectedly but not entirely unpleasantly, in her stomach. "I hope you are not going to start getting cheeky with me."

"Hey, you started it. I can't be losing face here."

Toriel snorted, pressing her hands to her own cheeks as though he could somehow have known, even from behind the safety of the door. "I suppose I will just have to bare it. In all seriousness," she continued, a little sterner, "if you are tired, please do go home and rest. Catching a cold out here is, after all, snow joke."

"Icy what you did there." Her friend's chuckle collapsed into a poorly disguised yawn, and her smile may have become a touch more knowing. "I mean, I don't really feel the cold so much, but...yeah, okay, maybe I should hit the proverbial hay."

"I think that would be wise." Toriel was relieved, yet somehow a little wistful upon hearing the creak of the door as he got to his feet. "Good night, my friend. Do take care out there, will you not?"

"Yes, ma'am." She could just hear his mock salute, and tutted good-naturedly as his tone softened into something more affectionate. "'Night, lady. You take care of yourself, too."

Toriel waited at the door, as always, for a few moments longer until she heard the soft crunch of his footsteps fade away into the night. She did hope he made it home safely – fortunately, Snowdin was close enough that the chances of him collapsing in the snow were, she would like to think, relatively low. Yet, alongside the familiar worry, there was a lingering warmth in her soul, an additional tingle of excitement thrumming in her magic as she recalled their earlier conversation. One she could not necessarily put a name to, but that kept her smiling all the way home, and as she settled in for what would doubtless be another long night – but one that offered the promise of something more rewarding in the day to come.

(She had no intention, of course, of letting her friend know that he had already succeeded in making her blush; that hardly counted, and it did not do to get cocky.

But, perhaps, if he were to try a little harder next time, she would not necessarily object.)