Chapter Text
Having been released from the Underground, monsters started to integrate into human society. They got jobs, families and friends in this new world, found the new type of norm that they craved for.
Well, Flowey, of course, might be the exclusion to the general rule of being 'excited' and 'enthusiastic', but he tolerated the change nonetheless.
Eventually, Frisk asked him to move into their and their friends' shared house for the time being. You'd expect everyone to have enough spare change for their houses, but no. Overworld is corrupted to a point where no one can get a proper apartment without needing more money than one can imagine.
And so it begins. All over again.
⠀
⠀
⠀
⠀
⠀
⠀
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
TWO YEARS LATER...
⠀
⠀
⠀
⠀
DREEMURR RESIDENCY, 2017
The house was filled with flowery notes from the scented candles Toriel bought last week and the smell of a freshly made butterscotch pie that reached every nook and cranny, forcing every person living there crave something for breakfast even in their deepest slumber.
Flowey, being his usual self, couldn't sleep. He only sat in his flower pot and stared at the wall. He found listening to the clock boring, but it was better than doing nothing at all.
Around the time his patience ended Frisk would wake up to the sounds of something being prepared in the kitchen and Toriel suggesting they get up as early as possible. He, as usual, gets a "Hi!" from the kid.
Either way, he'd like to not monologue it again, as routine is the enemy of progress, and he hates being bored to death as aforementioned.
Still, he got bothered by Frisk and their friends enough to be left more annoyed and intrigued of the idea of the new day.
Today, it started with a:
"Boop!" As Flowey's nonexistent nose was pressed on by Frisk's finger, where the kid laughed like it was the greatest joy imaginable.
For Flowey? It wasn't, of course.
"What are you trying to instigate now before I even get to have a shower." Flowey asked while he was recovering from said nose boop.
Frisk shrugged.
"It's a thing at school. Friends do it to each other and you're my friend, right?"
"Yes, Frisk. You don't have to tell me all over again." Flowey was frustrated from the amount of affection he received lately.
Reminded him of how he slaughtered his mom and dad a couple of thousands of times but he's not ready enough to talk about it properly to others.
"And the nose booping was unnecessary." He grumbled.
"Oookaay... You're, like, super mad right now. You're using your very odd face again." Frisk mused, making Flowey look at them like they're a madperson.
"I'm not doing anything. You're imagining that."
At that point, Frisk was already done with fighting against Flowey's words, so they gave him one last boop and left with a promise to watch the new episode of Papyrus' racing games featuring Napstablook with him later in the day.
The day went on as per usual. Except he was picked by Papyrus this time, forcing him to be present at all of the gigs that the madman of a skeleton picked last week during a cheer performance at Frisk's school. Who could've guessed that a 24 year old skeleton would be this good at gymnastics? Not Flowey for sure.
⠀
⠀
⠀
⠀
⠀
⠀
⠀
⠀
Between all of those events, Flowey had to interact with Papyrus' annoying brother, who was constantly asking him about stuff like "What is the best gift for a guy in his 40s?"
Flowey scoffed too many times to remember how mad he was.
"Why do you even want to know?"
"Grillb's birthday coming up pretty soon. I haven't really thought of giving him anything, but I probably should try to find something. As a sign of respect from man to man."
"You mean from a skeleton to a literal walking fire hazard?"
"Man to man."
"Fine, sure. What do I need to do though? According to your bone rules."
"What's a good gift for a fair man in his 40s, bud?"
"Oh, for GOODNESS' sake I JUST told you!"
"Eh, didn't hear it."
"I said you should buy a hand watch for him. It's classy, practical and doesn't look cheap."
"It usually means bad luck though. You know how those ghost stories go with humans. What a horrible gift you're proposing."
"You—! Of course. That's your go-to answer."
Flowey sighed.
"...I guess you could try and buy a new set of fancy glasses for him. He's ought to be pouring drinks into old ones for years. The Underground literally had to reuse scraps of human waste, so..."
"Heh, works like a charm every single time. Thanks, BUD."
"Say that one more time and I'll grow legs and actually punch you."
"Charmed, will note. Thanks."
