Summary: Lust questions Horror's choice of ingredients.
Lust hummed a cheery tune as he entered his house, more than ready to rest his aching metatarsals on the couch after a long day's work. However, a divine, chocolatey smell wafted beyond the kitchen doorway, immediately drawing him into the room.
Horror, his loving boyfriend, stood before the counter with a spatula in his hands and a pink apron tied around his waist; atop the granite surface laid a plate of freshly baked cookies.
A small, excited gasp escaped the purple-clad skeleton's jaws. Which, in turn, drew the other's attention toward him.
With a grin, he approached and said, "Aw, you baked while I was out! What did you make them with? I don't recall having all the ingredients for cookies."
The red, swollen eyelight staring at him got briefly hidden by an uncertain blink. "They're made with... love."
Lust's grin faltered. "Oh, metaphorically?"
Horror silently glanced down at the cookies, not making a single attempt to respond.
Dread spiked in purple-clad skeleton's soul. He nervously re-asked, "You do mean metaphorical love, right?"
More silence answered.
"Alright! Well, let's just put these over here-" Lust gently took the plated cookies and moved them over to the counter, mentally adding, where no one will eat them. Then gripped the broken-skulled monster by the arm and guided him toward the kitchen doorway. ", and I'll order us some takeout. How does that sound?"
"...Okay."
"Good. Now, how about you go wait in the living room and watch some TV while I clean up the kitchen?" His mind added hopefully, And discreetly rid this household of your LoVe cookies without hurting your feelings.
Horror nodded and walked into the other room.
Only once the raggedy-clothed skeleton situated himself on the couch and turned on a rather loud action movie did Lust finally begin to enact his plan. That plan being: quietly stepping back to the counter, slowly taking the plate (as not to make any unnecessary noises), and stealthily masking his magic before teleporting to the metal platform hanging over the Core.
"I'm sorry, Horror, but this is the only way." He whispered, pulling his phalanges off the plate's sides and allowing it and its cookie down into the gaping darkness, where they would be spread across space/time.
Meanwhile, in the Void, four tall skeletons surrounded a newly arrived pile of crumbled cookies.
"What is this?" The most suggestively garbed in the bunch pondered aloud, eyeing the treats with curiosity.
"Perhaps another one of our illustrious doppelgängers." Theorized the lab coat-wearing Gaster standing beside him, who quickly stolen the ornate cane their well-dressed counterpart held, earning an indignant "Hey!" and a swift smack flying toward his skull. Which he skillfully avoided.
In classic Gaster fashion, the scientist promptly used its pointy end to jab a cookie and created a hole in the mysterious pastry. A green, demonic-faced smoke cloud spewed forth from the puncture.
No doubt a death omen.
"Intriguing." He murmured while adjusting his glasses.
A deep snarl escaped the spiky, red/black-armored skeleton in front of him. The exiled Underfell monster grabbed one of the chocolaty/bready masses off the ground and turned it about in his hand, inspecting it. "Idiots! It's likely just trash one of those ungrateful children of ours was too lazy to throw away properly or just wanted to mock us with."
Ardor - the Underlust skeleton in the group and aforementioned suggestively clad individual - followed suit, grabbing a cookie of his own, and checked the item. Thus, leading to a horrified gasp at what he discovered.
"Oh, dear Asgore. These could kill someone!" Right after the last sentence left his jaws, his purple-pink eyelights caught sight of the edgiest Gaster drawing his cookie to his teeth and taking a bite. "Raze, no! Spit that out this instant; who knows what it will do to you."
Alas, the words went ignored.
Raze swallowed, then gave the bitten cookie an appraising look before nodding in approval. "Hmm. Rich, chocolaty, and it packs a hefty punch to the HP. I can respect that. Asgore knows that's more damage than my worthless, sniveling 1 HP brat has ever done." He continued by giving it a stern look and declaring, "I'm going to name you Peril, and you shall uphold the skeleton family legacy!"
"...It is official now. We have been trapped here for too long."
"Agreed."
"Can I experiment on our new cookie children? You know, for old times sake?"
A chorus of irate no's answered.