Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Grillby had a specific cup to polish while working. 

He used the same one, everyday.

It wasn't even a cup from the bar, or his apartment's kitchen that he occasionally gathered supplies from on extremely busy nights. 

A few patrons had once asked why the cup he held and polished clear during the breaks between service bore no resemblance from anything else he owned. 

To be honest, he doesn't really know. 

Well, Grillby knew where he bought it (a market, from a glassblowing monster in hotland), he knew how much he paid for it (10 gold). 

He could remember bringing it home. 

He could remember placing the unique glass among the rest of the cups. 

He remembered it all clearly. 

Grillby just doesn't know why he chose the one cup so specifically from all the others. And he doesn't know why it was chosen to be the one to polish. 

Then again, who was he to question the inner workings of his own subconscious? He's a bartender, not a soul-searcher. Even so, he stared at the glass in his hand with just the tinge of curiosity, a tinge he'd never really get rid of.

The bar wasn't hugely busy that night, just with its usual crowds at their usual spots. The Canines playing poker, Red Bird and Drunk Bunny chatting it up at the bar and so on. 

Grillby polished his polishing cup, though there were no stains to buff out. All and all, it seemed like it'd be a completely normal evening. 

Then the door swung open. 

Grillby really did just have to jinx himself huh? 

It wasn't a harsh swing, but the door was light, so it went basically flying open. From the rapid scrambling to grab it the new patron clearly wasn't expecting it themself. It was comedic, though probably only to Grillby considering his sense of humor, but the bartender managed to hold in his laughter. 

It was probably already so embarrassing for the person already, especially considering all the eyes that had gone to them as soon as they entered. As they closed the door, Grillby realized the monster was a skeleton. A rare species nowadays, what with after the war having most of been being wiped out. 

Grillby had heard of a skeletal family moving into town not that long ago, but he'd honestly paid it no mind. The skeleton blushed at all the stares he was receiving and after a good long second, waved. 

Pretty quickly after that, everyone went about their business as if nothing had happened, Grillby included. Slowly, but surely the skeleton made their way up to the bar. Nervous, embarrassed and clearly bone tired (hah). 

They sat and basically looked ready to collapse right then and there. Grillby placed his cup and rag down, and stared. The skeleton didn't seem to notice, or if he did he didn't do anything other than fiddle with his hands. 

"Grillby wants to know what you want to order," Red Bird translated despite the fact he hadn't said anything.

Grillby is pretty sure the guy just kinda makes up whatever and hopes it works. 

The skeleton jumped a bit and then slowly nodded. They turned face Grillby, rose their hands and----

"Do you know sign?" They signed. Grillby blinked, though no one could really see it. The movements were slow, but definitely practiced. Grillby bought his own hand up. 

"Yes." 

Grillby had never seen someone so excited. At least some of the nervousness disappeared within seconds and Grillby was pretty sure the guy was vibrating. After about a minute of communicating, Grillby went about making the skeleton's drink.

 ( "White Russian. Extra vodka please" 

"That's a lot for 10pm" 

"Not when you haven't rested in three weeks" )

Red Bird was trying (and failing) to hold a conversation with them, since the monster, no matter his goal, did not know all languages. The skeleton was willing to try, mixing in signs with charades as they tried to communicate. 

It was a valiant effort. A failing one, but valiant anyways. 

Grillby placed down the milk and overly alcoholic drink, and ended the conversation.

"Thank you" They signed, before picking up the glass and drinking about half of it in one sip. It was startling, to the point where part of Grillby's ever stoic facade faltered. 

"Hey, Grillby." Red Bird didn't seem to notice the skeleton's chugging. Or if he did, he didn't say anything. She leaned halfway over the counter, which wasn't completely unusual. Red did it pretty often, mostly when she was more drunk then sober. 

"You know what this guy is saying, or like, waving, right?" Grillby nodded. "I've been trying to get their name and shit, for like ten minutes."

Grillby nodded again. It was probably not ten minutes, but people love to exaggerate. He knocked on the bar top counter, catching the skeleton's attention. 

"What's your name?" The skeleton blinked, taking a second to process the question. He then smiled and rose his hand. 

"W-I-N-G D-I-N-G G-A-S-T-E-R" He spelled. It was a very long name, and took Grillby a second to put together in his head. 

"Wing Ding Gaster?" Grillby asked, aloud this time. He didn't talk often, not in Common at least. 

Red Bird seemed visibly surprised, and it made Grillby realize the bird monster hadn't ever heard talk in Common. Oh well, it's about time.

Gaster smiled and nodded in confirmation, giving an additional thumbs up before returning to his drink. 

"Alright Gaster, gotta ask." Red was still leaning on the counter, but was more towards Gaster then Grillby now. 

Grillby should probably cut Red off soon.

"You a boy skeleton or girl skeleton?" That made Gaster choke on his drink, to the amusement of everyone in the vicinity. Grillby held back a laugh. It wasn't an unusual question, since most monsters' genders were pretty hard to tell. It wasn't usually as blunt however. 

"Boy" Gaster signed, blushing and wiping off some of the excess drink that had gotten on his face. Grillby helpfully translated (and got Gaster some napkins), and went back to his polishing. 

Gaster was talked with, or rather talked at for awhile. Almost everyone at the bar wanted a word with him, probably because it was rare for people not to know each other in this town. For some reason, the only other person who knew sign was Greater Dog, who became the designated translator until Gaster left. 

Grillby didn't even see the man leave. One minute he was there, the next there was a small stack of gold in his place. It was more than needed, but from the looks of it, it was an intentional tip. 

That should have been that really, but by the time Grillby was doing his last call the skeleton had yet to leave his mind. There was something important about him. Something that would not leave, pushing and nagging as if he was forgetting some oh-so important. 

He had no idea why, it's not like that had met before right? 

Grillby paused in with cleaning. Had they met before? Did he know Gaster in some way? 

No, no. Grillby had never seen the man before, nevertheless met him. He knew that. 

Grillby solidified the thought in his mind. He and Gaster had never met, he was not forgetting a thing. 

Not a thing . 

Chapter Text

"Get down! You're going to get hurt!"

"I won't! You know I won't, you're just a worry wart!" 

The tree was tall. It was pretty, in the middle of a water-colored field. The branches creaked under movement but had yet to give away. 

"I'm being serious! Get down!" 

Someone was angry. Or fearful. It's hard to tell now, but you knew it so well then. 

Yes, you. You are here. This is you. You are climbing. 

There's the top. Do you see it?

The sun is shining down. It's so pretty. 

The branch creaks. It's a different creak then the others. Your friend was right. 

You fall.

Gaster blinked.

He was in his office, the lights were off (they weren't earlier, did someone turn them off?). His glasses were lopsided on his face and he could feel the way his bones realigned themselves uncomfortably. 

He was not in a tree. He wasn't in a weird meadow. He'd never even seen the sun.

Gaster shook his head and fixed his glasses. 

What a weird dream. 

He rolled back in his chair, letting it slide up to the wall. He flicked on the light switch, giving himself some temporary blindness from the sudden flash. Gaster blinked a few times, waiting for his eyelights to adjust to having something brighter than them around. It took a minute, but his office slowly became visible again in all its messy glory. 

The clock on the wall said one am. 

Shit. 

Gaster straightened up so quick his bones made snapping sounds. He was supposed to be home two hours ago. 

He was out the lab doors before it hit 1:01. 

***

The front door clicked open. It didn't creak, Gaster had oiled it too well for it to do so. Even still, before Gaster had shut the door, someone was at his leg. 

"You're Late!" Papyrus huffed. His voice wasn't as loud as usual but with the quiet of the house it echoed. Gaster winced but Papyrus didn't seem to notice. Papyrus was rather short compared to Gaster, only reaching his knees. Then again, most everything was short compared to Gaster's 7'2" frame. 

" Yes, yes I know. I'm sorry" Gaster's voice was rough from disuse, and even Papyrus looked pained to hear it. Thankfully the kid had enough sense not to comment on it. Papyrus glared still and a but of amusement tickled Gaster's soul. Papyrus' scowl was cute, sue him. 

" I am sorry " 

There was a long pause before Papyrus huffed and moved out of Gaster's way. He gave the 12 year old a quiet thanks, to which the taller received another glare. 

Gaster carefully began placing his things on the front-door desk. It was more like a cabinet then a desk, with crayola drawings scribbled on the bare wood and a small bowl for the three keys to the house. Gaster put in his keys, and the bowl was 'full'. 

The door was shut, and basked the room in near complete darkness. Gaster didn't mind though, and continued to organize his thing by the light of his permanently glowing eyes. 

"You Keep Coming Home Later And Later!" Papyrus voiced his complaints behind Gaster and the taller winced. He wasn't wrong, work was taking up more and more of Gaster's time to the point where it was hard to get away from it even at night. 

" I know, I'm sorry " Gaster turned and focused on the dimmer and smaller lights across the room. Papyrus didn’t reply and the silence stung. He was oh-so rarely quiet. 

The eye-lights shuffled away into the darkness and Gaster heard the sound of the door to Papyrus’ bedroom shut. 

Gaster sighed and carefully rubbed his eyes, skipping over the cracked lines.

He didn’t mean to work for so long, he really didn’t. But he was the Royal Scientist, with barely a doctorate to his name and around 10 people awaiting his command. There weren't enough hours in the day to manage it all. 

He leaned back against the desk and pulled off his glasses. It was the 7th right? Two weeks, two weeks until a social worker arrives to check on the state of things. Gaster cursed under his breath.

Sans and Papyrus were his little brothers, with an age gap too large for anyone to fully understand. 28 to 15 to 12, caused by abuse of something sworn off years before. 

Gaster wasn’t their father (though the stars knew he deserved the title better than anyone). He had sole custody. 

But for some damned reason, the fact he was their brother instead of father warranted constant check-ins to make sure everything was alright. 

Gatser felt tears tickle his face, though there was no certain reason for him to cry. Stres? Regret? He didn’t really know and it made it worse. 

He needed a drink. 

***

The bar was surprisingly full, even though it was near the usual closing hour. 

Gaster nursed a very strong White Russian at the bar (he preferred other things but he needed the calcium), watching a few random patrons sing along to the broken jukebox. 

The music was distorted and only getting worse as it went, yet the cheers for it only grew louder. Basically everyone in the bar was drunk, save him and Grillby as the audience to the most entertaining show ever. 

Okay, that may be an over exaggeration but hey, even Grillby was smiling. And from what little time Gaster had spent with the man, it was quite a rare sight. 

" .......i should…...cut them…...off….....soon….….right…..?..... " Grillby's voice was soft, and probably just as rare as his smile, mixed in with crackles of flames and an accent Gaster couldn't place. He didn't look over at Gaster as he spoke, but it was clear that he was talking to no one else. Gaster nodded, also not looking at the other. He instead fixated on Red, who was badly singing along to a broken down version of Cherry Bomb. 

Well, at least he tried to be fixated on Red, but he was already looking back at the elemental before he could stop himself. 

They were right next to each other, with only the bar separating them. Grillby was half-watching the show and half-watching his polishing work on his cup. 

The rag he used had to be fireproofed, logically, but the singed ends of it showed that the magic protections had started to wear off years ago.

The cup that was being polished was noticeably different from the rest of the cups at the bar. Gaster didn't even need to scan the room to know there was no other kind in there.

Tinted pink by either coloring or wear, vine like patterns engraved on the outer side that all led up to a star on the bottom side and so clear that Gaster could barely tell it was there

Gaster had never seen anything like it. 

It seemed familiar though. The more Gaster looked, the more familiar with it he became. He'd never seen it before, he knew that, but also it seemed as if he'd used it, or one similar, everyday. 

Gaster knocked on the counter before he even knew what he'd say. 

Grillby turned, and looked expectantly, because you only knock if you have something to say or sign. 

"Sorry" Of course that was the first thing to come to mind. "The cup, it is familiar. Where did you get it?" Grillby looked intrigued, to say the least. 

It was honestly quite hard to tell emotions on Elementals, especially since their facial features were rather impermanent. Grillby put down the cup right in front of Gaster, showing it off in full. He was quite sure he'd never seen anything like it, but yet…

"I received it in Hotland" Grillby signed, using the sign for Volcano to replace actually spelling out the name of the cavern. "Person who made glass sold it. One of a kind"

Gaster had assumed so. It made sense, there's no real way to make something like that twice (though Gaster was no means a glassblowing expert). There was an unanswered question in the air that came with that though. 'If this cup is one of a kind, how do you know it?'

"I don't know then" Gaster signed in answer and Grillby picked the cup right back up. He stared at it for a minute, long enough that Gaster figured the man's glasses would slide right off before looking back up again. 

"I picked it because it was also familiar. To me." Grillby shrugged. "Must be a quality of it" Gaster nodded, and suddenly that was that. 

There was a nagging feeling in his soul, because he knew the cup, he did. And there was no explanation why. If Gaster didn't know better, he'd believe Grillby had the feeling too. 

But he was already looking back at the singers by the jukebox and there was no room for more talk. Instead Gaster finished in drink, left enough gold to cover a tip and price and took a quick shortcut home. 

No one had seen him leave. 

His bed was much more welcoming to sleep than his desk had been earlier that same night. The skeleton was out before he could even process his sleepiness. 

The branch in the tree broke again, but the story doesn't end there. 

Chapter Text

Grillby wished there was some better way for his body to show he was sleep deprived.

Instead of perfectly calm eyebags like most people (hell even ghosts got that mercy), whenever he didn’t get enough sleep, he’d just lose… heat. 

It wasn’t incredibly healthy for a fire elemental to be cooled off for long amounts of time, so what would be a minor inconvenience for most, to Grillby, was a large health threat. It wasn’t even his fault! Grillby tried at least to get a reasonable amount of sleep (there was a reason he didn’t open doors until 11pm), and it worked for a while. 

And then he started getting nightmares. 

Well, Grillby couldn’t say they were nightmares, not really. He couldn’t even remember what they were about, other than blurred streaks of color that clouded his mind near all the time. It was as if he was getting flashbacks to an event he couldn’t remember. Nonetheless they always woke him, and without memory of what he dreamt his anxiety would always go on a whirlwind. Ironically or maybe coincidentally, alcohol had pretty good wake up properties for beings made of fire. Fuel was fuel after all, and the hotter it could burn the more it helped.

Still, by midnight, Grillby was feeling just a bit woozy. He took a deep breath, forcing his body to absorb the oxygen in the air instead of trying to make its own. He had just a few more hours on his self-set shift, he could make it. 

The door creaked open, and Grillby felt his flames tint blue as Gaster shut the door with his foot. Few of the more drunk customers let out overly loud greetings to the skeleton, to which he waved back and made his way to his seat. ( When did it become his seat? When did it stop just being a stool to Grillby and instead someone’s assigned place? )

Grillby allowed himself to smile, just enough for its faint existence to show on his face. Over the few weeks Gaster had been inregularly visiting the pub, the two had become friends. They had started talking about Gaster’s worklife, to which Grillby realized he may have just a small interest in science, and then once the cup was recognized as a mutual remembrance, that too became a point of conversation. Strange conversation, but one nonetheless. 

Tonight Gaster looked extra tired then the normal amount, and it was nearly comical much Grillby related to the man’s clear sleep deprivation. Grillby provided the same horrifically strong White Russian that Gaster always asked for and watched with the same amount of horror as the first time when Gaster down a good half of it in one gulp ( stars that can not taste good ). 

There was a long silence between the two of them. That wasn’t really unusual, as Grillby hated talking in Common and Gaster didn’t talk at all but it was tense with an underlying problem that they apparently shared. 

“Are you okay?” Gaster signed, and Grillby simply shook his head. Gaster made a face that Grillby couldn’t see any else in but the faintest sorrow. A bit of twisted guilt wrapped around Grillby’s soul. Weighing down on someone so clearly already weighed down was never a thing he enjoyed. 

“I’ll push through” Grillby signed, and Gaster just sighed in response. He chugged down the rest of the White Russian and Grillby winced. 

“ .......that………cannot taste………..good…….. ” Grillby’s voice was blotted out by the crackle of his low flames, but Gaser heard anyway. He smiled and it looked as if he’d been caught in a silly act. 

“It doesn’t” He signed, before resting his head on his hands. Grillby picked the cup back up, and stared at it for a good minute. 

“ ...........then……….why………do you…………get………..it……?........ ” Gaster made a sound. Something like a bitter laugh but more like a broken computer beeping then anything else. It was… strangely nice. It didn’t repeat though to Grillby’s disappointment and Gaster covered his mouth for just a quick second before replying. 

“I need the C-A-L-C-I-U-M” Grillby tilted his head. He wasn’t great with chemicals, or elements or whatever calcium was in life, but he’d heard of it a few times before. He didn’t quite grasp why it would be needed though or how Gaster got it from a vodka filled drink. 

Apparently his confusion was visible, because Gaster was quick to provide an explanation. 

“Helps bones—” Gaster pointed at his own arm for that, instead of actually signing it. “—it’s in milk. I want alcohol too.”  Gaster made a shrugging motion to finish off his explanation and Grillby tilted his head in consideration. 

“ .......so you…….just……need…..the milk…….?....... ” Grillby asked, letting an idea brew in his head. Gaster nodded, though there was something uncertain on his face. Maybe he saw that Grillby was plotting something or maybe it was just his own weariness wearing him down. “ ......wait here……. ” 

Grillby was already into the kitchen before Gaster could reply, leaving the skeleton alone. Well, as alone as you can get in a packed bar of people who love jabbering and would love a quiet audience. Grillby was forced to be pretty quick, mostly because he warmed things easily for the most obvious reasons. The milk was pulled from the fridge, some ice from the freezer (which sat in a very cold and fireproof container), and some additional things grabbed from around the kitchen. 

Lastly, he ducked out into the bar to grab a stout, and saw Gaster being basically yelled at by a very drunk Punk Hamster. He didn’t look necessarily uncomfortable by the situation, but Gaster certainly wanted out. Grillby laughed to himself silently as he overheard some of the conversation, with Punk complaining about how crowded the capital was and how crowded Snowdin would become from it, completely forgetting that Gaster had moved from the Capitol. (That was a fact Grillby had proudly learned just a week ago)

He was back into the kitchen before he got to see Gaster’s response, if the man had given any. 

The alcohol was added and stirred into the drink, and given the last few toppers Grillby threw it into the freezer for just a minute to hopefully help it regain some of the chill it had lost by being close to him. Then he was out again, this time with the frozen drink. 

Punk backed off at Grillby’s arrival, though he clearly had more to say, and Grillby just nodded in the man’s direction. Gaster visibly relaxed, and twisted in his seat to face Grillby with a revlived look. Grillby carefully placed the drink down, the glass making a clinking sound of the wooden countertop.

“What is that?” Gaster signed, tilting his head. It was almost cat like, and was honestly quite amusing.

“ ........it’s……….a milkshake………. ” Gsster spelt out the word as he spoke it, to which Gaster smiled. “ ......with alcohol…….so you get……..the…….calcium…and….alcohol…..without having to……..drink……that horrible…….drink……… ”

Gaster looked up at Grillby with what could only be described as awe. Grillby blushed under the stare, rubbing the back of his neck as his heat rose. The skeleton pulled at the straw that was placed in the cup to make it face him, and took a sip. 

There was a pause in which nothing was said or done, and Grillby was worried the skeleton simply didn’t like the drink. Gaster then smiled, a bright smile that for one second seemed to rid the guy of his tiredness and weary looks. It was a shock, enough so that Grillby couldn't fully process what he saw.

“Thank you.” Gaster signed, so earnest and gentle with his motions that Grillby didn’t quite understand it. 

“ .......why are…..you……..thanking me………?........ ” Grillby didn’t have it in him to be amazed at the rate Gaster was drinking that thing, though it was a bit of a wonder how he didn’t suffer from a brain freeze yet (could skeletons even get a brain freeze?). Gaster raised his hand, and Grillby waited as he was supposed to. 

“No one before did anything about the C-A-L-C-I-U-M. You were the first. Thank you.” Gaster went right back to drink, even as Grilbby froze in place. No one had done anything about it before? Seriously? Making anything that covered the necessities wasn’t very complicated, and yet no one did it. 

Grillby felt something akin to rage boil up, though it didn’t get very far with his sleep deprivation and normal emotional apathy not allowing a lot to seep through. Even as it went as quickly as it came, Grillby couldn’t tell exactly what the rage had been for. The general lack of care for someone that was now his friend? Or for the just disrespect for not wanting to help a customer? 

Grillby shook his head, it didn’t matter, not now at least. 

“ ......it’s not……a……..problem…… ” Grillby said, making a mental note to get a tid-bit more ice cream. 

***

Grillby sighed as he got the last chairs up off the floor, stretching out with weak flames. It’d been about an hour since he’d closed, and normally by this point he’d already be done with his relatively easy pack up. 

Well, it wasn’t easy, with lots of cleaning (and water ), but Grillby had been doing it for years by this point. He’d gotten pretty efficient at it, speeding up the work until he was zooming through it and still having good outputs. 

His weakened flames and lack of sleep had slowed him beyond belief that night. He should, logically, just finish up, it was only two more steps really left. To sweep and then mop. But he couldn’t make himself, especially with the already bordering health risk that came with his dimmed flames. If water got on him, even just a gentle drop, he’d get a water burn. 

Grillby sighed, and let his body win over his mind. He’d finish it up tomorrow, it would be easy enough. The door to the kitchen swung open, and with a quick turn right, he was up the stairwell to his apartment. 

His decision to have his apartment just above the bar was one Grillby appreciated near every day.

The door creaked open, its high whine making Grillby want to groan. He really needed to oil it, and had needed to for months now. It wasn’t ( just ) out of laziness that he didn’t, with how flammable oil was (and his door), trying to fix it was quite literally a fire hazard. Well, everything Grillby did in his life was a fire hazard, but more so. 

Grillby kicked it shut with his foot, making a creaking sound that sounded strangely like eerie laughter as it did so. His apartment wasn’t large, with the play room and kitchen being one and the same, with only a counter/bar with an unused sink acting as a differential. There was a small hallway, just across the way, that held his linen closet, laundry machines and ended with his bedroom door. 

All and all it was small, but nice and with how neat Grillby kept it, it was a home to him.

He stopped by the kitchen, grabbing a pinecone to eat, before making his way to his room. His bedroom door didn’t creak as he opened it, but it did nearly hit his key stand, pushed up against the wall on the left side. Grillby stopped it just short, more out of habit than awareness. 

Grillby nearly fell into his bed right then and there, more than willing to go to sleep. He didn’t though, forcing himself to get changed first. No matter how tired he was, he shouldn’t go to bed in his work clothes, a lesson he’d learned more than a few times over. 

His pajamas weren’t really anything to call home about, just a simple loose t-shirt he liked and some sweatpants. He didn’t really need pajamas, but it certainly helped him keep form while he slept. Elementals, of any kind, tend to melt almost while sleeping, losing form until just becoming a loose connected mix of water, fire or whatever.

Wearing anything, though sorta unnecessary, at least made pulling himself back together in the right way easier. 

Grillby flicked off the lights to his room with one hand, shadowing everything in a darkness only illuminated by him alone. His bed didn’t have blankets, mostly because their existence was pointless and honestly it was barely fitted with a pillow and bed-sheet. So he simply just flopped onto his bed, and allowed himself to melt against the mattress. 

He was out within seconds.

The castle walls were grey. Grey, with detailed carvings of a legend so old it was no longer told. 

Running through the open corridor on windy days were always a joy. 

"Slow down! I can't keep up!" Always running behind, huh? Laughter chortled, echoing.

Trees passed through the open windows, their green color over-saturated and bleeding through the lines. The sunlight was yellow and the sky was a harsh blue that burned the eyes. The colors distorted the grey walls until their cravings were dancing in it.

The faster the speed the more the people engraved on the wall seemed to move and live, so fast and yet faster was the goal. The castle was so huge. It was like a maze, a labyrinth. Even those born within the walls could not memorize its shape, not really. 

The corner was sharp as it was turned, and had always caused people rushing too fast to slide. The floor had always been too smooth. Now it was the slow's turn to laugh. 

Their laughter distorted, fading away into yelling and screaming. The colors were gone. When did that happen? 

Bland, delicate snow covered the trees and stones and dusted the fine floor that had been run through years before. It was so blindingly bright, the white sun forcing it to glow beyond what was natural. The people on the walls were frowning. 

Disappointment and grief were apparent on their faces. They had expected better, back when they were dancing in the over-saturated light. 

Blood began to melt the light snow that had gotten into the hall.  It continued to spread outwards. Not blood actually, not truely. It was more like magma, hot and burning mixed with the liquid of magic. It was the only color around in the grey and white landscape, the red and yellow and orange and black radiating it's color into the bland world that simply swallowed it up. 

It seared both the wound and the ground the same way, though the ground could not feel it as the wound did. It did not receive the pain. Oh, gods the pain. People rushed towards the source, and then backed away. Maybe it was already too late, or they feared the 'blood' would burn at them as it did everything else. 

The stares of the people of the legend slowly became more sympathetic than judgmental. It was a poor choice after all, to put their hate into a child. A child is still a child, no matter how powerful or cruel. Children only simply want, and without discipline become cruel and with only nos would become cruel anyways. It's not nature for that, no, it is nurture. The caretakers should have received this fate, not the child. Not the child who bled away on the floor they realized, all too late.

"we apologize" they whispered.

 "we took from you too much" they admitted. 

"you reacted only fairly" they sighed. 

"we will give you it back" they promised.

The labyrinth of the castle began to shatter away. The screams elevated, not in horror as before but now in fear. Debris fell around, crushing those who should have gotten their fate much sooner without mercy. Their screams cut off too soon, not as painful as they deserved. 

"we will give you it back." 

Something fell on you.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

You need to wake up now….

Grillby stared up at his ceiling. 

When had he woken up? He couldn't recall when his eyes had opened, or when his sleep had ended.

He couldn't even remember what had woken him. His dream, yes, certainly, but what was left of the dream was already slipping away, leaving only traces of overly bright color and an ache in his side. And even those traces were disappearing to the point where he could barely even recall their existence.

Grillby groaned, rolling over on his "side" towards his nightside, electing to ignore the unknown for just a few minutes. He fumbled for his glasses for a second, which was not an easy task without a solidly formed hand and horrible vision. They were eventually located, and put on his face. 

Grillby really needed a newer prescription, if how blurry the world remained even with the glasses on said anything. The mental note was remade for probably the fourth time that week. The blaring red of his alarm clock that had been collected and refurbished from the dump bled into Grillby's eyesight like a stain on clothes, annoying and eye straining as hell.

It read 4:30am. 

Grillby swore. 

Chapter Text

“That’ll be 50g please.” Bun said, drumming her fingers on the counter top. Grillby sighed softly, and counted out the golden pieces, placing each on the counter as he went. 

Holding the metal in his hand would melt them in a way similar to how chocolate seemed to melt in other’s. Bun happily collected the gold pieces as he finished, and dropped her professional facade as he helped bag Grillby’s groceries. 

It was a mix of supplies for the bar and his own food (he’s pretty sure that he’s the only reason they have pine cones and wood in the food section), and a few new utensils that were needed. 

“You feeling better?” Bun placed the pinecones in a row, almost imitating the tree they came from out in the forest. Grillby tilted his head in a questioning manner, his normal way of silent communication being more than normal for Bun. 

“Oh c’mon Grillz.” Bun said, “Everyone noticed how you were closed just a few days ago, and I’ve known you long enough that you wouldn’t close unless something big happened to you.” Grillby blushed a faint blue at being called out, and rubbed the back of his neck out of habit. He had closed the bar due to the fact he simply could not get enough sleep to function. 

Bun was one of his dear friends, both having known each other since he’d first arrived in town, of course she’d catch that. He gave her a thumbs up, nodding, a reassurance he was fine. She raised a disbelieving eyebrow, but left it at that, and the conversation of silent communication and talking turned into simple gossip that Grillby missed on his closed days.

The front door dinged as someone opened it and shut it in the same motion, but neither Grillby or Bun paused in their conversation. Until the person (or persons) showed up to pay, there’d be no need. That fact went unchallenged throughout the entire time the person was in the store, with Grillby catching distorted sounds and rummaging that traveled around the entirety of the store. 

Eventually they showed up behind him, Grillby could tell without even looking. He slid to the side, completely used to this, and nearly tripped over himself when he saw who it was. Gaster, wearing his casual clothes that Grillby had never seen before, placed a basket full of foodstuff onto the counter that Bun immediately started doing the math for.

He smiled and waved politely, once he noticed the elemental. Grillby waved back, more on instinct than awareness. It was a strange shock to see the skeleton in a hoodie and jeans, when Grillby only ever saw the man in lab coats and suits.

“How are you?” Gaster signed calmly, and Grillby forced his shock down (It’s the town store, why is it so weird Gaster would shop here?). 

“ .........i’m…….good…….you?........ ” Gaster smiled, signing the equivalent of “same” before yawning. He cut it off short, but it was enough to make Grillby aware that the skeleton was tired. 

“Sorry.” He signed, embarrassed. Grillby smiled and waved it off. 

“ .....it’s quite……alright…….no one can……help being…….tired….. ” Grillby assured, running a hand through his flames as he spoke. Gaster nodded, and then pulled out his wallet. Bun was nearly done checking him out. 

“109g please.” Bun placed the last thing in the paper bags, and Gaster sighed softly. Somehow he looked more weary here than he does in the bar. Grillby was surprised at the price. While inflation of goods had worsened, what the gehenna was Gaster buying that equaled that much money? 

The skeleton pulled out all the gold that was in his wallet, and used it to pay. It nearly disturbed Grillby, the fact that this shopping trip alone had actually emptied the man’s wallet. Gaster waved bye to Grillby before he picked up his bags, successfully carrying them in one trip. Grillby only waved back when the door was closing, his surprise having stunned his reaction time. 

The elemental sighed softly and willed the concern that bubbled in him away as he turned to his friend. He raised an eyebrow at Bun’s smug and smirking face, looking as if she was ready to yell ‘I told you so!’ at the man. To properly express his emotion, he tilted his head, and combined with the raised eyebrow successfully explained his confusion without a word. Bun rolled her eyes.

“You like him don’t you?” The bunny-monster cooed, only making Grillby more confused. Gaster was his friend, of course he likes the man. That’s how friends work. He explained this much and Bun just rolled her eyes.

“Not what I meant you dense idiot.” Grillby glared just a bit. It had no real heat behind it (hah!) but it sold his offense to the rabbit. Bun sighed, making an unimpressed face as she rested her head on her hands. “I mean you clearly have a crush on the guy.”

Grillby would’ve choked, if he had anything he could choke on. That wasn’t an option, so instead he just stared blankly. He could feel himself slowly turn blue at the idea, and it made the shopkeeper smile.

It honestly took him way too long to react, and when he did it was so many rushed head shakes and hand waves and Nos that it wasn’t really believable. 

“C’mon Grillby, you talked to the guy. Talked!” Bun pointed out. “You never talk! And when you do, you certainly don’t talk as much as you did in the last two minutes.” Grillby made a slightly visible face as he was called out. He knew that, he did but he didn’t expect it to be such a large sign of… love? 

He wasn’t in love. He wasn’t! It would not only be extremely unprofessional, it would also just be… strange. He barely knew Gaster outside of what little tidbits he’d learned at the bar. He couldn’t be in love, it’s ridiculous! 

Just because he felt it easier to talk around the man didn’t mean anything! Gaster was just nice, and tall, and clever, and charmasic and endearing! 

…. oh.

The shopkeeper burst out laughing, as apparently Grillby’s realization was visible. It actually very much was, his flames turning so blue that it nearly over took his natural orange.

Bun ended up falling out of her chair over it, completely finding the elemental’s embarrassment and flusterment hilarious. He’s knocked out of his flustered stupor from the clatter, and he rushed to help his still laughing friend up.

Okay. Maybe he does like Gaster a bit beyond friendly, but it doesn’t matter. 

It does’t matter one single bit.