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motherlyra · 7 years

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Chapter 49: Club Day

The song in the chapter is The Fly by Cosmo Sheldrake. I recently discovered these guys and I’m obsessed with their music, so I had to include it, especially since it fits so well.

In case you guys were wondering why I was so detailed with this club’s design, this is based off of the only real dance club/bar/place I’ve ever been to, and it was so much fun and totally not a cult or anything.

Warnings: Lots of stuff happens lol, it’s 10 pages my dudes. Lots of pain, confusion, panic, blood, guns, knifes, ect. Have fun yelling at me later please

[Sans Days/Nights]

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You stepped onto the sidewalk and glanced back, seeing Sans watching you nervously. A car honked behind him, making him jump slightly in the seat. You give him a quick wave and he drove off, leaving you in front of the club on your own. Well, Gaster was in your shadow, but you sure felt like you were on your own.

No turning back now.

You faced Man-Made again, quickly tucking your doubts to the back of your head, and stepped towards the door, and the bouncers stepped in your path.

They crossed their arms and looked down at you, and you suddenly noticed how very tall they were compared to you. You also realized that you were wearing your casual clothing- nothing you would associate with clubbing.

“I'm meeting some friends here.” You spoke up, somehow able to keep your voice stable. One of the guys raised an eyebrow at that.

“ID.” The other spoke. Holes in your plan were appearing faster than you thought.

“Uh-” You blinked. You quickly recovered, patting your pockets quickly more for show than anything else. “I must have forgot it…” You raised your hands in an attempt of a shrug, and both of the bouncers immediately grabbed your arms.

You had a moment of pure terror, before both of them flicked the cap off of a sharpie, and marking fat black X’s on the back of your hands.

“No ID, no drinks.” The other guy said, and both of them released you before stepping out from the doorway, giving you space to enter.

“R-right. Thank you.” You tried to keep your heart from racing right out of your chest, and taking your first steps into the building.

The doorway somehow kept most of the noise from escaping the club, but soon as you were in the volume of the place increased drastically. It was almost uncomfortably loud in here- though it was a lot smaller than you thought. In fact, it didn’t match the pictures on google at all. You looked around the average sized room, seeing four tall round tables surrounded by fancy stools, a single bar, and two bartenders. Less than a dozen people were in here, some bobbing to the music but a majority seemed to just be standing and talking quite loudly to each other.

A small group of people walked in from the corner of the room, and you realized it was a partially disguised entryway for the rest of the club. Acting as casual as you could, you made your way to the corner of the room, and felt yourself inhale when you saw the next part of the bar.

It was utterly massive.

It had to be at least eight times bigger than the first room, complete with a lowered dance floor, flashing lights, multiple couches, low tables, and TVs lining the walls. There was a huge bar on the far wall with three more bartenders, and dozens of people here all dancing their brains out with varying skill levels. A song was playing that you haven’t heard before, and while it seemed catchy, you didn’t know it would be this popular with the dance floor.

Little Fly, Thy summer's play My thoughtless hand has brushed away.

Am not I a fly like thee? Or art not thou a man like me?

For I dance and drink, and sing. Till some blind hand shall brush my wing. If thought is life and strength and breath And the want of thought is death;

Then am I a happy fly, If I live or if I die.

Then am I a happy fly. If I live, or if I die.

Someone stumbled past you to get onto the dance floor and spilt some fruity alcohol onto your foot, though they didn’t seem to notice and walk right through the middle of the dance floor. A couple other girls saw the drinks and cheered loudly. The coldness seeped through your shoe, acting as a quick reminder that you were here to do a task, not gawk at the dance floor.

You started walking along the raised walkway around the dance floor, trying to look for any clues to what this place had to do with your apartment. No one here was wearing any HP patches… though you did notice a lot of [M-M] logos everywhere, some people even wore jewelry of the logo. You noticed along the walls there were two staircases on opposite sides, one with a standard bathroom sign pointing up, the other with a door blocking the narrow stairway a few steps up. You kept walking around till you were on the other side of the dance floor, and saw some wide stairs leading down.

Looking past the stairs, you saw that they went down just enough to have two wide openings on both sides, before the stairs went up again and led to what looked like another entryway of the club. You quietly (not that it really mattered, with the booming music and all) stepped down to the lower floor, seeing on the left side was another smaller bar with a single bartender and a couple of tables, and on the right side was a small room with a pool table with a group of guys surrounding it and laughing loud enough to be heard over the music. Figuring you weren’t going to get any answers here, you turned to go back up to the dance room.

“-and like I said, the dent in the hood was totally worth it! You should have seen the dust just fill the air!” You froze, hearing one of the guy’s voices loudly brag to the others. You peeked back into the room, seeing it was the one with blonde hair in the stereotype douche haircut that was talking. “Those monsters should know the law! If the walk signal was at twenty seconds already, you aren’t suppose to cross the road! I was just enforcing the law!” The others laughed loudly at that, as if it was a hilarious joke and not about murdering a monster.

Your jaw tightened, along with your fists, and you turned to walk into the room. You felt pulled back, and when you looked you saw a holed pale hand wrapped tightly around your arm, darkness extending from your harsh shadow against the wall.

“They are not worth it.” Gaster’s voice whispered, yet somehow loud enough to be heard over the music.

“Didn’t you hear him?” You said in a hushed tone back to the shadow, assuming volume wasn’t important.

“I did. We are here for a reason, or have you forgotten? If you fight them now, not only will you not prove anything to them, but you will compromise our plan as well. It is worth noting that there are five of them and only one of you. You throw a punch at them, you will lose. You will be kicked out of this establishment, presumably in a worse state.” He paused. “Your safety should come first, no matter the insult.” Gaster reasoned, keeping his grip on you tight. You let his words settle in his mind, before relaxing your fists. He let go, and his hand vanished in the shadow. “Smart choice.”

You nodded, gritting your teeth at the fact he was right. As much as you wanted to pick a fight, there was no chance of you winning, or even changing their thoughts. Doesn’t mean they don’t deserve a punch to the face. You were about to leave back up to the dance floor, before you noticed a mostly empty beer bottle sitting on the lowest stair by your foot. Before Gaster could realize what you were doing, you quickly grabbed the bottle and hurled it at the douche’s head.

You were already running up the stairs by the time you heard crashing sound, which was quickly followed by some swears. “Less smart of a choice.” You heard Gaster’s voice whisper as you quickly side stepped between a group of people and hopped down onto the dance floor, immediately dancing to the current playing song as best as you could without paying attention to what song it was. A moment passed, and the guys rushed up from the stairs and looked around, but they didn’t know who they were suppose to look for. You felt a small smile creep onto your face when they shrugged and argued at each other, eventually turning back to the stairs. The douche rubbed his jaw line. It wasn’t bleeding or anything, so in your head it was the equivalent to a punch. Good.

You kept dancing for another few moments, wanting to make yourself seem casual as possible in case the guys came back. After a while, you didn’t see the guys, but you did see someone with a jean jacket and a HP patch walk along side of the dance floor, followed by another guy with a [M-M] black logo shirt. The two of them walked up the the little stairway that had the door, and the guy with the logo shirt unlocked it for the HP person, locking it behind them and standing against the wall with his arms crossed.

“We might have luck up there.” You mumbled. “Though we need a key…”

“Bump into the guard.” Gaster instructed.

“For a distraction?” You asked to clarify, slowly dancing your way across the floor.

“Just a small one.”

You nodded, stepping back up on the normal floor and looking around for the best way to do it. You pat your sides, and felt the familiar rectangle of your lighter, but you didn’t think that was probably the smartest idea at the moment. Slightly sighing to yourself, you decided to keep up the poor dancing, slowly making your way over to the guard. Once you were close enough, you “lost your balance” and bumped into him.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” You quickly exclaimed, standing straight and acting embarrassed. The man smiled at you, shaking his head.

“‘Ain’t no problem. No harm done! Just try to keep the dancing to the dance floor, if you don’t mind.” He motioned to the lowered floor, and you quickly nodded.

“Thank you, and sorry again!” You added, quickly stepping down to the dance floor again, and started dancing in the crowd once more.

“You are quite the actor.” Gaster whispered a quick compliment, and you suddenly felt more weight in your pocket. You pat it from the outside, and felt the lump of a few keys in it. You couldn’t believe that worked. Now just to wait until you guys could get to the door without raising suspicion…

Turns out, that opportunity came quicker than you thought. It wasn’t even a full minute before the guard put a finger to his ear, listened to something, before walking towards the front of the club. Not wanting to waste the chance, you quickly made your way to the door.

“Talk about good luck.” You mumbled to Gaster as you scrambled to find the key that fit the door.

“There is no such thing as luck.” Gaster replied plainly, voice untrusting of the turn of events. Third key try was the fit, and you quickly opened the door and went up the stairs, locking the door behind you.

Behind the door was more narrow steps up, and once you got to the top the area opened up again, revealing that this was the area above the dance floor where the DJ and the light controls were. There were a few people sitting further in the room, deep in conversation, along with an older man DJing, completely involved with the music and looking over the dancers to notice you. You snuck past him and the others, seeing yet another stairway up.

The top of the stairs led up to a wide hallway with flickering fluorescent lighting. If it wasn’t for the bass of the music seeping in from below, you could have guessed this was just some sort of business office.

“Maybe you should grab Sans now…” You whispered, seeing doors up ahead along the sides of the hallway.

“Excellent idea. I will be right back. Do not move an inch.” He instructed, and you felt almost like gravity got ever so slightly lighter around you. A couple moments later, Gaster and Sans appeared beside you. Sans immediately hugged you before taking a step back.

“You sure were taking your time.” He half joked, but you could see his eyes looking around just slightly faster than usual.

“I had no idea what to expect.” You said, shrugging slightly. “I still don’t know what’s ahead. Far as I could tell this is just a xenophobic dance club, and we are totally trespassing right now man.”

Gaster chuckled at that.

“Oh this is quite the xenophobic establishment, that is certain. Can you not smell it?” Gaster looked down at you questionably.

“Smell...?” You questioned. Gaster’s eyes lowered slightly before he glanced back towards the hallway.

“Love.” Sans clarified in a tone that made it clear he wasn’t talking about the fluffy feeling in your gut. “This place reeks of dust.” You didn’t know what they were talking about, it smelt like any other building you’ve been in, though maybe more alcohol hanging in the air than usual.

“I do believe we have company.” Gaster announced quietly, taking a step to the side. You saw two men talking to each other walk out of one of the rooms, before suddenly noticing you three.

“Ay what the fuck! How’d those monsters get in ‘ere?” One of them yelled, the other quickly taking a step back and grabbing for something tucked in the back of his pants.

“Gun.” Gaster warned, vanishing and appearing behind the two men instantly. The one reaching for the gun was kicked towards you, his pistol skittering to the floor. The other one swiped at Gaster, a flash of silver catching your eye. Knife.

“Gaster, watch it!” You shouted- only to see a bone materialize and hit the knife wielder square in the gut. Sans stepped forward, motioning and sending another bone at the man to knock the knife out of his hand. The man fell backwards into the room he came out of, and you managed to see two more people in patched jean jackets in the room, abruptly standing from the table they must have been having some sort of meeting in.

“Keep back!” Sans warned you before stepping forward to make more bones, distracting one of the men as Gaster gracefully stepped into the room and blocked your view.

You heard a groan, and saw the man that originally had the gun picking himself up off of the ground. He spotted the pistol between the two of you, and scrambled towards it. You panicked, kicking the gun to the side out of his reach, and grabbed it before he could. You pointed it at his head, and he froze.

Your hands shook, realizing you were pointing an actual gun at a man.

His eyes flickered past you for a moment before he smiled, and slowly sat up with his hands up. You felt like you were getting tunnel vision. “Come’on… I won’t hurt you. Just put the gun down-” As he spoke, you saw a flash of purple from behind you. You took a slight step back in surprise, felt a tightness stretch behind your back, and felt the gun recoil in your hands.

The man collapsed in front of you in a bloody heap. The realization of what just happened made your stomach turn upside down, tightness surrounded your stomach. Before you could fulfill your stomach’s request of emptying itself, you felt a cold pain stabbing into your back, and had the sensation of drowning.

You blinked, and the pain was gone.

The man was alive.

The gun wasn’t fired.

You heard the slightest sound of a step behind you, and you quickly turned to see a woman holding a large butterfly knife. Between you and her was a thin purple thread, faintly glowing. She didn’t see it, and instead rushed at you. You yelled, trying to stop the knife with your gun-holding hand instead of shooting her, and felt a slash on the back of your hand. The gun clattered to the ground as more of the pain registered, and the woman held a crazy look in her eye. She stepped forward again, swinging wildly, only for darkness to appear in front of you.

The knife plunged deep into the side of Gaster, only for him to look down at it in disdain. “Pity.” He uttered. “Look away, human.” He looked over his shoulder at you, his orange haloes trapping you in them for a moment before you did as he said without a thought, turning away just in time to hear the scream and a sound you didn't know existed outside of video games or movies.

You quickly blinked and shook your empty thoughts out, turning to see a splatter of blood along the walls and floor. Gaster blocked most of the view, so you couldn’t see what exactly what he did, but your stomach still tightened at the sight of the red. You instinctively brought your hands to your mouth, eyes wide and unbelieving.

“Oh my god…” You uttered, the entire situation slowly settling heavy on your mind and gut.

“Human.” Gaster’s voice had a hint of a warning to it.

“Did… Did this actually… Did we…” You felt your chest heaving as you glanced towards the room, seeing even more red. You shook your head and pressed your hands more against your mouth. “I… I…”

“Human.” Gaster’s sharp voice got your attention, and his orange haloes burned in his sockets, completely drawing you into the centers of his eyes. You didn’t have it in you to resist the pull this time. “Be calm.”

And you were.

You felt your hands lower, and your breathing returned to normal.

Sans stepped out of the room, flipping through a couple of stained wallets, pulling out one of the IDs and looking at it. “They’re HP alright, looks like this-” He looked up, and his neutral eyes widened with offense when he saw you. “Gaster-”

“They were unstable. Not what we needed in this situation.” Gaster quickly explained, putting his hands up and taking a step back. That excuse didn’t sit well with Sans. His hands drew into fists.

“Then calm them down the regular way! Don’t use your magic on my human.” Sans’ pin lights vanished and the left one started glowing blue. You could feel the magic grow thick in the air.

You couldn’t bring yourself to be concerned about it, however.

“What the hell is with all of the-” One of the doors further down the hallway opened up, and a familiar man with a broken nose and grey leather jacket walked out with a gun mid-pull. When he saw the horrific mess in the hallway, the gun snapped back into place. “Oh. Well, I’m sure this is awkward.” He said, casually motioning as if having a pleasant conversation, before abruptly raising a gun and firing it in your direction.

Your eyes barely had the time to register the dark mass of Gaster appearing in front of you before he fell heavily to the ground, yelling out. Another shot rang through the air and you saw Sans teleport out of the corner of your eye.

Leader Prick, as you recognized him, quickly turned and ran down the hall. You couldn’t think about what you were doing, and charged after him. You heard Sans shout something, but you were focused on Leader Prick opening the door wide for himself, and closing it with a slam before you were anywhere close to it.

His mistake.

You could feel the magical calmness break away from you, and you brought your mind to focus on what little of the room you saw before he closed it. You felt the needles scratch over your skin as you continued to run at the door. “Something scary… Something scary…” You muttered to yourself, trying to get yourself to teleport.

“No! Nonono, Bro, stay with me!!” You heard Sans’ panicked voice behind you. That did the trick.

The needles sharpened across your skin and your felt yourself pulled forward, seeing the elegant room form in front of you. Lovely desk, chairs, even a fancy water cooler in a corner. The whole room seemed out of place compared to the bar-

The needles then suddenly converged onto your leg.

You screamed, your vision blurring with white as the pain intensified and you half collapsed as your hands went to grab where the pain was, only to slam against wood. Your vision cleared slightly, and you saw where your thigh met the solid door, or rather, where your leg went through the door.

Through the ringing in your ears, you could hear laughter. You gasped in air and continued crying out from the pain, only to feel cold metal under your chin and lift your head to face the Leader of HP.

“Why… Wouldn’t you look at that.” The Leader had a half smile as he stepped back, resting the robotic arm he used to lift your chin on his shoulder like a club.

“...Darling?” Mettaton’s voice asked quietly, and you could see him laying in the far corner of the room without any limbs. He looked okay, other than the fact his arms and legs were missing, and a small puddle of oil under him.

“Shut it, Gearhead!” Leader shouted, pointing the metal arm at Mettaton. “I’ve been waiting forever to make dialogue with the pet that broke my pretty face and stole my meals, and you ain’t gonna ruin that for me.” Mettaton grew quiet, and the Leader turned back to you. He fixed the collar of his jacket, and you saw some dust float into the air at the action.

“... Go on.” He motioned to you, and you realized he was waiting for you to say something. No words could form in your head, the pain of your leg overriding all of your thoughts. “Come on, ask me! I’ve waited so long to reason to you about why I am the way I am!” He smiled and took a step back, still waiting for you to question him.

“Fine, you don’t need to ask, I’ll just explain.” His hand whipped around and he grabbed a chair from behind him, pulling it up till he could sit on it. “I’m not against you, pet. I’m for the both of us! Don’t you see? When was the last time you’ve heard news on the radio ‘bout racists? Cops, mayors, presidents, random acts of violences, what have you?” He asked, motioning wildly with the metal arm. He waited, and you actually tried to think back on it.

“Been a while, ey? A few months, at least, right?” He leaned forward, tapping your head with the arm. “Think about it, pet. Humans always gotta be fighting something, else we fight each other. Racists, rebellions, war, everything! All of that, is just based on that little fact. Humans need to fight to survive, else, we kill each other off! Isn’t that all sorts of messed up?” He philosophize, spinning himself in his chair.

“So I’m doing my part in making sure we survive.” He stopped spinning, and looked at you with purpose. “As long as we are fighting them, we don’t need to be fighting each other. Don’t you see? I’m saving us, by teaming us up against them.” He said excitedly, as if he discovered the cure for cancer.

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, and he seemed to see that by your face.

“What? Come’on, don’t look at me like that! You know I’m right, deep down! Letting people use their human nature to fight against others is healthy, and as long as it’s against those things, then no one is hurt by it! Just some extra dust lying around, who cares?” He asked with a shrug, and the pit in your stomach grew. “What do you say?”

It took all of what was left of your willpower to not simply keep crying from the pain, and instead you inhaled and shakily said, “Go... to Hell.” You weakly spit at his direction, unable to put in the power to actually reach him.

He didn’t seem impressed by that. “I suppose having you stuck there isn’t helping your judgement. Shame. The fact you just helped murder a few of my most loyal followers puts you in a rather poor light in the eyes of the law, I could have helped you out if you thought it was in your best interest of survival. Oh well.” He stood up and started walking to the far desk. “No no, don’t get up. Allow me. I’ll call-”

Whatever he was saying was cut off by you pulling out his soul.

His burning, red, soul.

“Well… would you look at that.” He laughed, putting his hands up to either side of his soul and facing you again. “You are full of all sorts of tricks, aren’t you?” He smiled grabbing the soul with one hand and holding it up like an apple.

“Rumor has it that Red Souls are rather special. Rumor also has it that you, pet, have one as well?” He asked, other hand reaching behind him. “You know what, because of this little development, let’s make a little wager. You win, you can continue on your silly little life of being a pet and aiding in humanity destructing itself. I win, and I get to keep all of my loyal followers, and we save humanity my way. Deal?”

You didn’t understand, but he didn’t wait for an answer anyway. He pulled out a knife and plunged it into his soul, immediately collapsing.

“HIC!”

The hiccup completely disrupted your thoughts, causing you to pause in your steps and gather yourself for a moment, and looked at Gaster and Sans, who were standing close to the doorway and looking at you with concerned faces.

“Oh… Sorry, lost my train of thought.” You shook your head, and realized your headache vanished. Your mouth opened without your permission for another hiccup, so strong you almost had to take a step back. “Wow those came out of nowhere.” You commented, feeling rather confused on the hiccups. Another one came, quieter than the last ones, but still as shocking.

Gaster and Sans looked at each other, seeming to say something through their eyes alone.

“That didn’t go as planned.” Gaster uttered. He glanced around Alphy’s apartment rather tiredly, bringing a hand up to his forehead.

“What didn’t?” You asked.

#Sans Days #sans x reader #self insert #reader insert #undertale #oh boy this was a fun one #please let me know what you think lol #I've been dying to finally write this part of the arc and I'm rather anxious now that its posted #<3 #love you guys so much

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theriverpersonshadow · 7 years

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Grillby Gets Two New Skeletons

Grillby had learned to deal with many things. He learned to deal with the cold of Snowdin. He learned to deal with the quips and questions of what a fire monster is doing here, which thankfully more or less died off with time. He even learned to deal with an entire squadron of drunken, rowdy guard dogs all at once. However, one thing he had never had to deal with until now was the Royal Scientist dumping two skeleton children – who really shouldn’t even exist since Gaster is, or was the only skeleton left – on the counter of his bar afterhours.

No one speaks. Six pairs of eye sockets remain trained on Grillby and all he can do is stare back. His fire flares from otherwise stilling shock, but other than that there’s almost no movement. The proverbial gears in his head grind past the small block of utter surprise and finally begin to turn again. His mind buzzes with questions, not the least of which being how exactly this is even possible and no small amount of worry over the fact that Gaster looks more freaked out than he is. Of course, being a bartender has his perks, so other than a few more volatile pops and flickers of his flame, he manages to keep his strictly metaphorical cool. Naturally the first thing he asks is, “Do you need a drink?”

Gaster’s expression goes blank and Grillby can almost hear the same gears stalling in his head. Then the skeleton bursts out laughing hysterically, leaning against the countertop for support, but ultimately sliding to the floor and laughing uproariously from there. This naturally ends up startling both of the children. One of them is shorter than the other, facial features rounder. That one – that girl? That boy? Grillby honestly has no idea how to tell – looks over. They’re grinning, but the eyes don’t seem to match the expression. The other one is slightly taller and somewhat more expressive, face longer and jaw able to fall slack in confusion. After a few moments of befuddled staring, the taller skeleton bursts into giggles as well, voice rather distinct.

“Should I take that as a yes then?” Grillby asks. He’s not sure whether to be amused or worried about Gaster’s behavior. The skeleton had been coming to the bar a lot recently, certainly enough to cause some alarm, but Grillby had kept quiet. In retrospect, two children suddenly appearing could certainly drive a monster to drink a little more than usual. Mentally, he tries to synch up the time-frames in his head. He’s not fully certain how skeletons age, but they don’t exactly seem like newborns. Then again, Gaster apparently managed to have not one, but two children presumably by himself, so perhaps logic went out the window a while ago.

Gaster finally pulls himself up. “Ah, as much as I want one, I do rather require soberity for a while. Well, that and, um, could you perhaps do me a huge favor? I could absolutely pay you for it, or, or something. Please, I really need the help – and perhaps I’ll take that drink after all and-”

Grillby shushes him by placing a finger over the skeleton’s mouth. In any other circumstance the scientist’s fretting would be adorable (in fact, in many other circumstances it has been), but this is a rather rare occurrence. “What do you need, Gaster?”

“Can you take care of these two for a while?” Gaster asks. The lights of his eyes have grown big and puppy-like. Considering the average number of dogs Grillby works with a day, Grillby knows he should be immune by now, but…

Wait, is Gaster dumping two children on him?

Grillby’s thought process for the second time in far too little time grounds to a screeching halt. The scientist looks visibly unnerved, fingers twiddling against each other as he rocks on the floor. The taller of the children furrows the bone above his eyes and goes over and hugs the man. Gaster grins and hugs the little one back. It’s rather adorable and whatever subsect of his mind is still working informs him that he wishes he had a camera. The smallest skeleton merely huffs and turns his attention to Grillby instead. They don’t seem particularly bothered by anything, but the way they stare at Grillby makes the flame rather uncomfortable. It’s far too focused and he can see the lights of his eyes tracing his figure.

Finally he gathers himself and leans against the counter. “Gaster… I…” Okay, maybe he’s not so gathered. He sighs, longingly eyes some of his own wine, and decides to try again. “Why?”

“Well, the short of it is that I have created life, twice. The long of it is that I have created life twice by artificial means, I don’t know how to dad in the least, I may have made a few mistakes with one, I did a little too well on the other, I can’t stand this project anymore, and… um, I may have neglected to mention any of this to Asgore. Heh,” he squeaks. His face is practically – scratch that, literally – glowing with whatever magic allows skeletons to blush. Grillby’s not exactly sure what to make of the vague, electronic static noise that comes out next as, but the back of his mind is supplying muffled screaming.

“So you, the royal scientist, have made two children without telling the king,” Grillby says incredulously. He’s seriously debating shoving alcohol at someone. He’s not sure if that someone is himself or Gaster, but someone.

“Yes.”

“… If you ever get to come back, you can have a beer on the house. Why are you giving me the children though?”

He has to admit that the taller one is rather cute. They’ve moved on to patting Gaster’s back in a silent show of encouragement. Their eyes do sometimes flicker to Grillby, lit with the kind of curiosity that a child should have as opposed to the small one’s more calculating gaze. Though looking down, the smallest skeleton has fallen asleep. He’s actually pretty cute like this. The taller kid follows his gaze down and he glares, but shakes his head and rolls his eyes then picks the little one up.

“DON’T SLEEP ON THE FLOOR BROTHER,” he says, irritated, but obviously caring deeply for the little one. Even more adorable, the small one almost immediately starts clinging to him in a way similar to a koala. Maybe a sloth, an oversized bony sloth.

Between that and the nervous (adorable) fretting of the scientist, whatever resistance Grillby had to the idea melts away. He sighs, but lets his jack-o-lantern grin show as he chuckles, “How are you all so cute?” He shakes his head and looks back to Gaster, “Alright, I’ll watch them for a little while as you sort things out, but first, Gaster you haven’t even told me their names. Are they girls, boys, neither? Do you know? How old even are they?”

“Oh! Right, that’s rather important, isn’t it? O-Oh dear, sorry.”

“For a scientist, you’re not always the smartest, are you?” Grillby quips. There’s a layer of affection to the teasing, but he’s mostly looking for the bright blush blooming. Still, maybe that was mean. “Well, you don’t have to be good at everything. You’ve really helped a lot of monsters out with the core you know, so thank you.”

“Ah, no thanks necessary. But yes, um, names! Right. The short one is a few months older. His name is Sans, Comic Sans. He doesn’t really get jokes yet though, and do be careful with him. He doesn’t have a whole lot of HP. This sweetheart here is Papyrus. He’s a bit more skittish than Sans, but really he’s a darling. His stats are all very good for someone considerably older than him. They’re both remarkably intelligent for their actual age, um… They’re not actually one yet. Papyrus is only three months old technically, but, um…” he trails off, looking down in guilt. “I’ve done a few things that are perhaps less than ethical, but it’s a little too late to go back and change it now. They’re both fairly intelligent despite their age, but they know little of the world. I thought you’d be good because you can keep such a cool head and they seem pretty fond of colorful things. Please, I… I don’t know where else to go.”

Grillby feels a pang of sympathy in his soul for the skeleton, albeit one mixed with unease. He’s not sure what less than ethical means and isn’t sure he wants to, but neither of the children seem to be scared of him. If anything, Papyrus seems fond of him. He sets one hand on top of Gaster’s. “Alright. I’ve got a house a little ways from here. I’ll keep him there. Good luck, okay?”

“Thank you,” Gaster says. He smiles softly at the flame, then his eyes dart to where their hands meet. There’s the blush. Grillby can’t help cracking another smile, fingers threading together.

“WHY IS YOUR FACE GLOWING, GASTER? YOU’RE DOING IT A LOT. ARE YOU SICK?” Papyrus asks. Grillby puts his hand over his mouth as he laughs, and Gaster’s blush certainly isn’t scared off by the comment.

“No, um… I’m not! It’s just… my skull is reflecting Grillby’s fire!” Gaster stammers. He makes another one of those odd, muffled “screams” before gathering himself together. He kneels down to Papyrus’s level. “Ah, Papyrus? I know that I hardly have to say this to you, but be good, okay? I should hopefully be okay. This… this may be the last time I get to see you like this. I love you.”

“I LOVE YOU TOO GASTER. I’M SURE YOU’LL GET TO COME BACK! I’LL BE VERY GOOD FOR YOUR VERY NICE FRIEND UNTIL THEN! I’LL MAKE SURE SANS IS GOOD TOO.”

“Thank you,” Gaster says. He touches his teeth to Papyrus’s forehead in a skeletal approximation of a kiss. He gives a similar one to the sleeping Sans before turning to Grillby. “And thank you too. Really, it means the world to me. They’re both pretty well behaved. Sans can be a little overprotective of Papyrus and Papyrus can be a little fussy about caring for Sans, but they’ll be good.

“Goodbye, old friend.”

“Goodbye Gaster. I hope to see you soon, okay?”

Gaster nods and takes one last look before leaving. Grillby look down at the kids he has now and sighs, already questioning how Gaster managed to get him to agree to this. He’s not sure how well this will go persay, but, well… One step at a time. First, “Come on, let’s go home.”

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Some elements, such as the boys being experiments who look older than they are have been inspired by @zarla-s ‘s Handplates, but to be clear, this is a different Gaster. I hope you enjoyed this, I just wanted to write Gaster being a doof who dumps very young children on a bartender that he’s very lucky likes him.

#sans #papyrus #grillby #w.d. gaster #undertale #cute #fluff #grillster #grillby has two skeletons now #Gaster you can't just dump two children on a guy #theriverpersonshadow #younger than they look #papyrus is a cinnamon roll #Gaster blushes a lot #they caught the gay

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