The Death Metal Undertale AU! Interact with the AU creators or the characters themselves, but please read our About/ FAQs first!
Blog will have swearing, possible violent themes, and undertum (feederism), so please block such tags as you need to!
"What took you so long?" Grillby fiddled with the rim of his glasses, barely acknowledging Sans' return to the van, a solid twenty minutes after he'd put petrol in, paying for it and was down to the dregs of the coffee he'd purchased
"never tell a 'The Aristocrats' joke to a cop." Sans said smoothly.
"WHAT?" Papyrus' eyesockets widened and his jaw-bone tightened, winding up for a good old fashioned chewing out of his brother's antics. Grillby had to assume he had no idea what 'The Aristocrats' was; he had probably been summoned by the word 'Cop'.
"Don't worry, Papyrus." Grillby pointedly assured him. "He's been doing this since yesterday. Every time we stop he goes off somewhere and whern I ask him where he's been he reacts with what are obvious lies. You're slipping, Sans."
Sans' reply was a shrug, strolling off to flop on the couch with enough force to bounce Papyrus at the other end.
Grillby was actually pretty sure when Sans was lying out of boredom considering the lack of police officers who had just been told that they all engaged in rigorous incestuous sexual activities on stage raiding their van to question them was pretty telling.
The fire elemental glanced around at the interior of the tour bus. Safe to say that Sans was not the only one of them who was starting to get antsy. Everyone looked a little droopy and irritable. Muffett kept picking up a book off of a pile and thumbing through it before putting it back down and prepeating the process.
Papyrus was not so much practicing as he was picking out a collection of random notes that the fire elemental faintly recognized as an existing human song but it was clear his soul wasn't remotely in it.
Undyne was flexing and unflexing her hand with her visible eye drifting downwards. Every few minutes she would catch herself and snap back up with a groan that souned a lot more like 'Uggggh' thank her typical battle cry. Even Jerry seemed too tired to complain, offering only a gusty sigh of what was presumably frustration with his waning battery life.
Executive decision time was nigh.
"We're getting a hotel, next stop."
There was a general muttering of grateful sentiment but morale had definitely improved. Papyrus in particular seemed to be excited by the news but honestly Grillby wasn't thinking much of it. Papyurus was in general the most enthusiastic about just about anything.
"Hey, Andraia?" He called across the lot
"Oi?"
"We're stopping at a hotel."
"Oh thank you sweet merciful God. I'll tell the crew, they'll be ecstatic. If I had to play one more round of UNO, I couldn't be responsible for my actions."
"I prefer to go by Grillby." He couldn't resist. Sans was rubbing off on him.
"Hah. Text me the details, please." The stage manager dissapeared into the smaller van parked nearby, presumably to give the crew the good news.
Grillby too returned to the cab of the bus and fired up the engine, pulling out of the lot.
He hadn't gone five miles down the road before there was a knock at the door. If Grillby was a betting man, the odds were that his guest was Papyrus; objectively the only one polite enough to knock.
Sure enough, the door swung in to his "Come in." to reveal Papyrus, who deftly squeezed past to sit passenger side, picking a chocolate wrapper which had belonged to the chair's previous occupant (Undyne, actually, who was a terrible but enthusiastic navigator) with disdain.
"Ah, Mister Grillby, I was wondering if I may make a choice of hotel."
"It doesn't involve tents and outdoor camping does it?" Grillby said automatically, narrowing his eyes.
"No, actually." Papyrus fidgeted a bit. "It's um..."
Papyrus named what Grillby knew to be a chain. It certainly shouldn't be a problem. "Er, go ahead and put it in the GPS."
Papyrus snapped up the phone and did so. It was a solid twenty miles off course, deeper in the city than Grillby had originally picked, but not undoable and Grillby always liked accomodating Papyrus.
"Go ahead and text Andraia would you? She can book it up."
Papyrus made the funniest little squirm in his seat. Knowing him there was likely some film festival or other hobby-related venue nearby he wanted to see.
The crowd below them reacted with a mighty cheer, some throwing up the horns, still others bouncing to show off their own horns in a monster equivalent.
They were largely oblivious for the moment to the comparative dead silence that had occurred ON the stage.
Three sets of eyes, one individual eyeball and one set of six were all trained on Papyrus.
Undyne's mechanical arm saved her guitar from smashing on the floor. Jerry had abandoned his bass for his phone, evidently hoping to get something Internet worthy and Muffett seemed unconcerned but interested.
Sans found his voice first and being at mic level alerted the crowd to the situation. "Uh. Bro. I don't think you should..."
Papyrus reacted by cutting him off with mild but obvious annoyance. "WHAT? JUST BECAUSE I'M THE YOUNGER BROTHER OR THE ONE WITH MANNERS, I CAN'T SAY FUCK?"
"I was going to say enunciate. You swear at a rock show, you don't need the -ing."
There was a minute's pause, wherein Papyrus nodded sagely. "I'LL FUCKIN' KEEP THAT IN MIND."
This time Undyne came dangerously close to choking on her own spit.
In which a few things are resolved, a few things aren’t and some stuff changes…. Also in which Undyne is not an Inventor or a foodie.
(Please note in the grand tradition of DustMetal AU fics written by me - yes, have had Beerioes, No you never want to; they are that vile, Undyne’s probably right that they do taste like Sans’ slippers do.)
“Owww god.” Undyne groaned miserably from her spot face down in the pile carpet, where she’d passed out just shy of her bed. “How…much did I drink?”
She wasn’t expecting a response but Papyrus who was somewhat less miserable piped up from his own marginally better position, draped over the corner of the bed with his knees on the floor. He was slightly muffled by a mouthful of comforter.
“Do you remember that ‘monster’ movie I reviewed?”
“The one that ate Manhattan or the one that ate Tokyo?”
“Manhattan. Um. And replace ‘ate’ with ‘drank all the liquor in’.”
“Shit.”
“Language.”
“Okay, but how and why are you hung over?” It was a fair point. Papyrus wasn’t a teetotaler but he wasn’t exactly known for his crazy nights out and epic hangovers.
Papyrus raised his head up in a show of pride. “I HAVE TAKEN ONE FOR MY CAPTAIN.”
A hazy memory flitted briefly over Undyne’s mind…something about challenging a Skeleton to a drinking contest. “…and then stabbed me in the back. Or the head. How is your own voice not killing you?”
“PERHAPS BECAUSE IT IS MY VOICE?” Papyrus scratched his head, failing spectacularly to take the hint. “BUT WILL YOU BE OKAY FOR THE CONCERT TONIGHT?”
Undyne knew the answer to that was a resounding ‘NO’ but they were playing to a sold out venue and people would be pissed if they cancelled. Grillby had given them an epic lecture that their behaviour would be under scrutiny, especially with the MTT information having come to light. The funny thing was that he’d been the one to get up in the robot’s face and she seemed to be one of the few who didn’t feel it wasn’t a bit hypocritical.
She was SO mature.
She would also have to get creative.
Steeling herself, Undyne staggered upright, fighting a wave of nausea and pain that came with the action.
“I need food….and a shower…Fibre and um….vitamins….and well, we all know what’s the best cure for drinking too much: DRINKING…”
“UNDYNE THAT SOUNDS FA–”
“…MORE BOOZE….ow.”
Undyne marched to the kitchenette and hauled out a few things. Cereal took little effort, and hey it was a source of seven essential grains and nutrients.
“I DID NOT PICK UP ANY MILK YOU KNOW…I THINK THERE IS SOME IN THE VENDING MACHINE.”
Papyrus looked up at the tell-tale pop of a bottle opener being used. Undyne was standing over her bowl of cereal, pouring the contents of the bottle over it. The drink foamed up over the side of the bowl but didn’t splash onto the counter
“I ASSUME YOU ARE BEING CREATIVE.” Papyrus watched this with interest.
She pointed to the bowl, with a certain hint of pride at her own cleverness. “BEERIOS!”
“BRILLIANT!”
It smelled like sheer death, but Undyne was not one to allow grossness to deter her. She took a spoonful.
“WHAT IS IT LIKE?” Papyrus wanted to know.
“Like your brother’s slippers.”
“THAT BAD?”
Undyne shovelled in another bite. “YES!” she grit her teeth. “BUILDS. CHARACTER.”
She put the unfinished bowl on the counter. It was certainly because the shaking and questionable fuzziness in her head was less ‘fall down twitching’ and starting to cusp on the edge of ‘can do anything’ and not because she had invented the world’s most disgusting thing ever.
“SHOWER!” She’d deal with the unimaginable hell while she didn’t have obligations.
Papyrus got up himself as the door slammed behind her, took one very curious bite and laid the spoon down in a hurry, deciding that he would very much like to go and have the hottest food the hotel restaurant could provide as he was convinced that might be the only available option of burning the taste out of his mouth.
***
“Papyrus?”
Upon receiving no reply, Sans teleported into the room. There was a rush of water from the bathroom, so someone was there in the shower.
Papyrus’ guitar was on its stand, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. He would have to sit around and find out which one of them it was if he wanted to talk to his brother. It wasn’t that important; Grillby had gotten all sullen again and sullen Grillby was no fun so he’d bailed…and promptly gotten bored.
He prowled around the hotel room; between Undyne and Papyrus, both were reasonably tidy so nothing of interest was on the floor. Pay-per-view porn lost its lustre when there was any chance of catching a live show (and that seemed more plausible as of late)
He wandered into the kitchenette, spotting the bowl on the counter. This was definitely his brother’s work.
He picked it up with a slight scowl. He didn’t get upset with Papyrus for much but his eating habits always made him a little mad. Papyrus ate everything and didn’t even think to test it for any kind of poison or tampering and he didn’t finish things. Not even cereal. How long had they been destitute? Sure he’d given most of what he had to Papyrus but Papyrus wasn’t STUPID. He’d long defended that point…
He sniffed it to see if the milk was off and swiftly realized that …was not milk.
What the hell was on this cereal?
If he didn’t know any better it was…
…UTTER GENIUS.
His rictus smile couldn’t have gotten any bigger. Grillby was still stewing over the whole awards business and had been coping in a fashion Sans couldn’t argue with as it provided him with a near constant licence to get anything he wanted.
He could make the stuffy food snob of a fire elemental make him…beer cereal. This was going to be so much fun.
***
Undyne came out of the bathroom, towelling off her hair and feeling a bit bleary but holding it together much better than she had been.
She wasn’t particularly pleased to see Sans there; their relationship had been under some strain since the issue with Alphys and the awards show. .
It wasn’t easy being best friends with Papyrus whom she loved and also manage to quell her annoyance at his brother who had the annoying habit of teleporting around with little regard for a locked door at the best of times. .
In addition, Sans was absolutely not (probably) aromantic or asexual. and she was wearing a towel.
Sans was however, grinning without strain at her as he dropped the spoon in the now empty bowl with a clink.
“Awesome.”
“I know!” Undyne pumped her fist, grudgingly at least a little impressed that the Skeleton was not having the same close-to-vomiting-issue the other two had.
“Seen my brother?”
“Last I heard he was going down stairs…”
Sans slipped away after that, perhaps also unwilling to push his luck.
That had been a shockingly better than civil interaction between the two for the first time in awhile, and without Papyrus there as an intermediary to boot.
She dressed herself and grabbed a cereal-free beer from the fridge and decided to spend the rest of her recuperation time to use Papyrus’ conspicuous absence to order violence porn (or otherwise known as the most explosion, sword-fightey, blood and guts-driven movie that the hotel’s pay-per-view had to offer).
***
Sans meanwhile had decided to avoid ‘practicing’ with Papyrus and teleported himself upstairs to bother Grillby. And maybe catch him watching a youtube posting of him flipping out - which honestly HADN’T been THAT unprofessional. Stars he would have loved it if he’d actually smacked MTT one.
Shockingly, the room was empty. There was a roomservice plate by the door, completely untouched but warm as if it had been only just left.
Something was…odd. Odd enough that he’d eat the thing AFTER he found out what was going on.
He stepped off the elevator and almost ran into the very person he was looking for, waiting for the elevator to go up.
He started to say as much, suddenly shoving the fire elemental out of the way when he spotted even weirder was going on on across the lobby.
Papyrus was holding the door for a giggling human woman. The giggling, the door holding and the relative human conventional attractiveness of the girl were none too surprising.
It was clear however even from this distance that Papyrus wasn’t just being 'gallant’ as he might put it. He was having a conversation with this woman…and…was he sweating?
His gaze followed them as Papyrus tugged her out the door and down the street out of sight.
Grillby had seen it too, and here he stood uncaring if not accepting next to him while his brother had just ran away with a groupie on the afternoon before a big concert.
Subterranical and Glamour Bomb team up for a 22 Hour Long Nazi-Punching Video
*That pile of Nazis isn't dead, they just have 0.0000000001 HP. *Collectively.
*ACTL:Most Watched Event in World History This, Trump!
* Imagine the Ratings
*ACT: Jerry Complains at them for hours about having to stand around and punch the bastards. It hurt his hand
*Blue Magic or Stop Punching Yourself.
*Blue Stop Signs or Spiderwebs. Either way, no one's going anywhere.
Fic: This Is Not A Test of the Emergency Broadcast System
In which the long awaited awards ceremony comes to pass.
Author’s Notes: Thanks for readership, loyalty, kindness and making this a fun overall writing project to do. Hope you’ll stay with us in the future…for now Frank is going to be taking a long overdue hiatus from Tumblr.
Fic: This Is Not A Test of the Emergency Broadcast System
In which the long awaited awards ceremony comes to pass.
Author’s Notes: Thanks for readership, loyalty, kindness and making this a fun overall writing project to do. Hope you’ll stay with us in the future...for now Frank is going to be taking a long overdue hiatus from Tumblr.
Five of the seven occupants, all human got up from the corner table by the window at Grillby’s; just a bunch of people out for a drink until last call. The significant lack of alcohol being poured down throats or food being ordered had apparently gone unnoticed by the bartender who made no move to tell them to order or leave and definitely unnoticed by those in the bar who were altering their state of consciousness. The two left at the table, one a hooded and hunched figure zipped up tight into a hoodie, the other a fire monster who could have been related to the attractive green-flame female monster, or at least the same species presently tending bar.
Pushing back her hood to reveal a terrible case of hat-head, Undyne jostled Grillby in the side. "Well that went well huh? We're gonna kick ass at the awards show tomorrow!" She slammed a fist on the tabletop to emphasize her point and let out the whooping battle cry she’d been holding back all night; allowing them to continue their meeting uninhibited with the stage manager and the hand-selected staff from their significantly expanded crew she’d be bringing to the awards show to work with the venue staff.
"Speaking of, you gonna ask the Que--er, Toriel?"
"I...no." Grillby shook his head.,."I'm going with Andraia instead, since we both need to be backstage early anyway.. It makes se--"
"Don't give me that nonsense! C'mon, dude, We can SO all see you like her, you git! You get all stupid and start to talk like you swallowed a bad anime tape with terrible subtitles."
"It's. Complicated...." he muttered, trailing off then adding as an afterthought "...plus I don't think I'm her type."
The look of sheer frustration that crossed his face was something even his expression obscuring flames were unable to fully disguise.
“OH MY GOD!” Undyne’s reaction went from frustration to what was unmistakably a fangirl moment. “It’s a case of UNREQUITED LOVE! You can’t sleep, can’t eat, can’t THINK straight….although, um, you’d better fuckin’ well tomorrow at the show.”
Grillby let her have her moment, nodding a bit. It was actually somewhat not without a ring of truthfulness, he had rather obviously lost weight and was more tired than usual but well, his romantic life (nonexistent though it was) was only half the reason. Maybe not even half. Quarter. Eighth.
He was thinking about his life in musical terms now.
"So all this is over a lady, big brother?" Agni snapped the bolt lock on the door behind the last stragglers and ducked behind the bar to emerge with two leftover burgers for each of them. There was something that suddenly felt so terribly like deja-vu, yet not...no, more like an out-of-body experience about the situation, sitting here slouched and in his civvies, half preoccupied and half asleep in his seat, on the opposite side of the bar.
Agni hugged him around the shoulders though.
"Undyne is right. You should get a good night's rest. Big day for you tomorrow."
Grillby ate as ordered, grateful that Undyne did not know the extent of the situation; his feelings for not only Toriel but his feelings for...well, he supposed that in some way he was kind of grateful for Sans' ability to be constantly in trouble when left to his own devices, it had certainly given him an excuse for keeping him close by without having to confess anything about how he /felt/.
At the end of the day, Toriel, Sans...he wasn't sure which of them he was supposed to be feeling disappointed to be losing. Or, losing to.
Presently however, Sans being in some kind of relationship, whether or not it was with him or Toriel or someone he met off the street, should be the least of his worries. Come hell or high water, tomorrow there would be a decisive battle in the Subterranical versus Glamour Bomb rivalry. Regardless of who took home that trophy, it would change the course of the game. He knew a win was always the best outcome, and he dropped off to sleep feeling restless and what sleep he did get peppered with unusual, undecipherable dreams that felt somewhat ominous... but it could have had something to do with eating so close to bed.
***
Grillby woke from his as-restful-as-it-was-going-to-get sleep to find that the butterfly vs snake fight club was currently using the pit of his stomach as their meeting place. He stood, groaning a little having (not for the first time since becoming a band manager) slept in his clothes and he swiftly swapped them out for another rare instance of a casual outfit. He resolved to grab a couple of biscuits on the way to the Tuxedo rental place (and forgot) as well as grabbing Undyne's dress (from the local anime cosplay shop which despite his misgivings actually seemed quite appropriate for a black tie event). He re-resolved to get some lunch on the way back (and didn't.).
He finally arrived back at the bar tux firmly on and as ready as he would ever be to find the band waiting for him, his own father and sister in tow. . Agni gave him a hug and a kiss on the temple, his father, ever the stoic, shook his hand.
"Proud of you Junior." he said gruffly. "...and the rest of you too." he added, speaking to the group but Grillby knew the words were primarily for Sans and Papyrus. His father had allowed the Skeletons to grow up on their own terms but anyone who knew the elder Flame monster knew darn well he considered them as his own dust and magic.
He smiled genuinely, the first thrill of pure excitement finding its way past his nerves.
"Thanks everyone. Let's go ah, get 'em."
“Geez NERD! You SUCK at these things. Look, this is how you get monsters fired up!”
There was a definite snort from Sans’ general direction, followed by a clack of bone on bone as Papyrus covered his mouth before he could get a word out.
“... We are going to go to that awards show and show ol' MTT HOW IT IS DONE!"
Papyrus jumped up with enough energy for ten of them. "YEAH! YEAH! We're going to WIN! 'Cause we ARE THE GREATEST! METAL! BAND! OF! ALL! TIME!"
"S'right Bro."
"Yeah, even the internet says so." Jerry flashed around an advance poll he'd looked up on his phone that did indeed paint Subterranical as being a shoo-in for a number of awards. It was a rare moment of perfect unity for the entire band.
Grillby hated to jinx a good thing, but he had to admit things were definitely looking good.
***
Despite the fact that the snow had morphed itself into freezing rain and the driver had to pull the limo around the back of the pub to the loading dock so everyone could enter in relative dryness and safely, there was still something profoundly special about getting into a limousine.
"Okay check this!" Undyne grinned and Grillby simply let her spring the cork on the expensive and totally not complimentary champagne and clapped along when Papyrus impressively distance caught it, right from the opposite end of the elongated cab.
In what seemed no time at all, the Limo rolled up to the red carpet with a perfectly smooth stop and there was a click as an aide pulled the handle to, flooding the interior of the luxury car with a deluge of sound and noise. .
"Let's go, nerds." Undyne edged along the seat first, sliding from the vehicle in a practiced motion, the white silk of her empire-waisted dress fluttering dramatically as she stepped into the new world on the other side.
Grillby knew that by now his relegation to the penumbra distinctly adjacent to the spotlight was far more compromised than it once was, but he was finding himself surprised by the sheer amount of flashbulbs that turned his way.
A few yards away, Mettaton was surrounded by a cluster of reporters, allowing one of his stunning heel-clad legs to peep out from the slit of his strapless, silky dress, all in his signature glittering fuchsia of course
"Naturally, the real question is who is going to play me in the upcoming autobiographical movie: ‘The Mettaton Story’?" he was saying to one of the reporters.
"But of course I would normally consider playing myself, and with my talents, who could blame the directors for coming to me first, but it IS fashionable to have someone else play your part these days…
” He paused as if he expected the cluster of gathered individuals to chime in with a ‘how true’.
Some of them actually and LITERALLY did. Grillby had to remind himself that he was no longer anonymous and also that human perfumes and colognes were flammable just to keep from snorting.
“Besides,” he continued, and his gaze flickered unmistakably in the direction of the Subterranical party, "As my workload has increased so dramatically as of late, there are not even enough hours in the day for the band alone, am I right darlings?" He smiled winningly back at the flashing cameras.
With his own emotional response under control, he turned swiftly at to look at Undyne, but she didn’t seem to care. Either she had not heard the comment or had was exercising far more self control than he was giving her credit for.
"Miss Ó Maoilriain." Grillby’s attentions were brought back to the here and now as he had forgotten that his 'date' was herself a well-known figure in the musical community. “How does it feel to have your first post-retirement job be a Monster band?” one snotty-sounding member of the press sneered at her, eying Grillby with incredibly thinly veiled contempt.
""I was never in retirement." she said smoothly. "I just decided that after Ravenous ended a very successful career, I had the option open to work for the right band for me."
She very subtly steered the grateful fire monster away on that note and he began his headcount again.
Across the way, Papyrus was preening under the cameras, almost as easily as Mettaton, being asked dozens of questions by some gossip-rag about (unsurprisingly) his love life, mostly; what did people think of the rumours that he was dating Mettaton,? Or Undyne...or any number of human actors and actresses? What did he have to say to the gay and lesbian community?
The skeleton's apparent lack of any kind of sexual pursuit seemed to serve him well in this scenario; considering he seemed more flattered at being considered interesting enough to merit press coverage than considering the many rumours that had landed and answered quite similarly to each prospective 'suitor' inquiry with equal deference.
Satisfied that most of his band and he himself were doing very well, he turned his attention to the more problematic members of the group.
As it turned out, Papyrus already had Jerry well-to-hand, given that the first person he wound up chatting with after escaping his interrogation was pop idol Monique Mondale; the very same that Jerry had been bragging about his expectations to charm (the tight mini dress off of) all night long. Miss Mondale seemed to be far more interested in what Papyrus had to say however, but at least Jerry was getting something in by proxy - he assumed, at least enough to let him think he was.
That left him with the biggest troublemaker of the lot who was presen...oh.no.
Where was Sans?
Grillby's practiced eye scanned the crowd, increasingly frantically when he couldn't immediately spot the frontman, but then nor could he see any kind of disturbance.
"Oh ho, ho... It is good to see you, young Grillbert!"
Grillby winced at his seldom-used and much-despised full name, then winced and staggered as the sudden powerful clap of paw-to-shoulder sent him stumbling a few paces forward, coming dangerously close to pitching him on his face.
“Hello Asgore, Sir.” He gasped, not needing to face the source of the voice to know that he was in the presence of the head of Under the Mountain Records, former King of All Monsters and his boss.
"And who is this charming young creature?" Asgore continued, pressing a kiss to Andraia's hand as gently as he had roughly ‘patted’ Grillby's back.
The Fire monster blushed a brilliant white, but thankfully not for the reason that Asgore imagined. Andraia was a lovely human and he definitely didn’t have a problem with either her company or the quality of her work with the band, but the fact that he was nursing a glaring and obvious (at least to those regularly around him) crush on his boss's ex-wife was...well…
He caught himself and stammered through the introductions, relaxing a bit when Asgore introduced his own human date - fiancee (or so they hoped if some bill allowing Monster and Humans to marry passed), even. It did make the circumstances a little bit easier to bear.
It also helped that Asgore's new beau was clearly feeling about as uncomfortable with the massive party as he was.
"The crab cakes are excellent and you might want to get a few drinks,." she advised him with a small smile.
Asgore turned away to introduce himself to a young Japanese human with a spiky haircut and heavy eye-makeup who Grillby didn't recognize. Andraia snagged them some Gin and Tonics from a passing waiter, the aforementioned crab cakes from another (which were indeed damnably good) and introduced him to a professional looking blonde and a strung out redheaded human, both of whom were old friends of hers and veteran managers of various backstage areas. The trio fell into an easy conversation...for about five minutes, after which Andraia tugged on his sleeve.
"I think that's my cue."
She gestured towards - and Grillby's heart sank, the approaching and unlikely duo of Sans and Alphys.
On a slightly more positive note, Alphys didn't appear to be sobbing or indeed exhibiting any other undue signs of distress. Sans too seemed remarkably quiet, even downright pleasant around her.
Grillby knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. Stranger things had happened. .
"I-I'm afraid I need to...we should really..."
"Right." . Andraia nodded and followed the lizard monster, evidently having interpreted the stuttering as intended.
Still somewhat unconvinced of Sans' apparent innocence, Grillby grabbed a drink off a passing waiter that, from the smell of it probably contained enough alcohol to turn himself into an incendiary device of massive proportions if he wished it. Something of it must have shown on his face as Sans too managed to acquire one; incidentally despite the fact that the man had apparently long moved on from their location.
Deciding that actually drinking it might not be the worst idea he'd had all evening, Grillby knocked the thing back and despite the acrid alcohol smell, it turned out to be one of those drinks that was rather somewhat dangerous in nature, going down far easier than anticipated, but he did feel somewhat better for it and he turned back to Sans.
"Please tell me you were civil to her?"
"Hey I might have bugged her a little..."but you saw her, she ain't annoyed or anythin’."
Grillby turned the phrasing over in his head, fighting boozy inhibitors to suss out any hidden meaning in Sans' words
He decided however that Alphys reaction being fairly devoid of hysteria spoke for itself and he resolved to spend the rest of the night allowing the remainder of his surviving magical brain cells to ensuring the performance part of the evening went off without a hitch. Muffett was actually the first one they ran into, she seemed as impervious as ever to having arrive a touch late for the opening festivities suggesting business was clipping along as usual. She did in a more decidedly out of character turn however have a box for him and apparently one for Sans.
Inside was an intricate, strawberry-topped pastry in the shape of a boutonniere.
"Nice." Sans reply was muffled through the fact that he was already eating his, while Grillby was more enchanted; old habits died hard and this was aesthetically pleasing food if ever there was an example of it.
"This is...beautiful Muffett. Thank you."
"Oh it's not from me Dearie..." she winked three of her six eyes at him, and that made his stomach and his SOUL swoop in a dizzying way that he knew had very little to do with having consumed very potent alcohol.
"We're just heading to the green room." he informed her as though his thoughts were still right here and not off in bedroom land, choosing to pull his phone out and try to focus on anything about it in a vain attempt at mastering himself.
"Please pass along the message to Papyrus, Jerry and Undyne. they may not be checking their phones." . he added, steering Sans along by the shoulder blade so as to avoid getting strawberry or chocolate on his still-immaculate tux.
***
The most important category they'd been nominated for was after the midway point of the ceremonies, and fortunately after their performance, which was agreeable given that a loss would not be in the cards to tamper with their mindset for a good show.
This year the awards were being hosted by a woman stand-up he knew his father liked, She had very little to do with the music industry as a whole, but he'd been aware the last year's debacle of a host who could have given JERRY lessons as to how to offend every person in a earshot (namely by being in front of a world-reaching media platform,), so it seemed they weren’t pulling any punches. He could hear the MC introducing her to the stage, just as they arrived at their destination.
While the rest of the group checked out the backstage riders and started their pre-show rituals, Grillby paced around a small corner of the Green Room, thinking hard. As it turned out, the rest of the members of the band also had pastry corsages (though he was sure none but his and the Skeleton brothers’ had also included a strawberry rose), but at least the gesture being extended to all of them had helped put some of the more distracting notions out of his head for the time being.
"What do you MEAN you can't?"
And here they went.
Grillby spun to face Undyne and of all monsters Papyrus.
Nerves were getting to everyone he supposed.
"What's going on here?"
"Who told Papyrus he can't play a flaming guitar with his tongue!?"
"I-wh--"
Undyne ignored him. "WE TOTALLY PRACTICED IT?! IT'll BE BADASS!"
The fire monster went for the hail Mary. "...The fire-code people. For the building."
It worked, much to Papyrus’ relief, Undyne dropped it, but she could very clearly be heard to mutter under her breath something that sounded an awful like a variation on '...and yet they let you in'.
He sighed. He sat down. .He nibbled on his pastry corsage.
"Hey."
Grillby wasn't sure if if he'd not been looking where he had sat down or whether Sans had maneuvered himself in that tricky space manipulation way he always seemed to have, but one way or the other he found himself being tugged back against something soft and warm that was not so as a result of his own flames.
The fire monster let himself be ...cuddled, such as it was, falling a little bit limply against his new, squishy backrest. with a sigh that belied his true stress levels and (he hoped) just how well he'd been holding things together, up until now.
"Relax Gribblies, it's going to be a great show."
"Yeah. You're right."
Something sort of hard and almost-but-not-quite sharp scraped the outside of his wrist.
"Fricking...Sans, you bit me?"
He lifted his hand to his face to see the damage, and flames swirled back over the little divots in his magic.
He was tempted to stand up, especially since he could feel Sans laugh where his back was pressed against him
Instead he stayed down. He was comfortable and God knew how long that would last.
"Papyrus?"
"Nyeh?"
"Can you turn up the loud speaker a bit please?"
The skeleton who was not presently being a pillow nodded affably, setting down his guitar and in the next moment the sound of an entertained audience's appreciative chuckles filled the room.
Satisfied that there was no way he could totally drift off, despite being comfortable, (make that VERY comfortable, as Sans had decided to play with the wisps of flame that sprung like 'hair' from the top of his head) he decided there was nothing for it yet curling his long legs up under himself and simply waited for the first strains of Glamour Bomb's performance, the timing by which he had gauged their own pre-performance preparations to start in earnest, both in part because it would give them a good amount of time to accommodate for any technical mishaps that might occur during checks, but also because they would not have to listen to and subsequently be riled up by MTT, his band or any of the rivalry they represented.
Normally it might not have mattered as half the band were at the least professional if not strictly speaking 'chill' and the other half mercurial regardless of any outside influence, but he was unduly pleased in this case that the mercurial half seemed to be completely under an unprecedented wave of utter calm. One that he refused to allow to go to waste.
The deafening roar of applause and cheering was shut off with a crackle and a click that barely cut through Grillby's drowsy state despite his personal insistence that he would not succumb to sleep.
"BROTHER!"
He lifted his eyes to observe looming above them, expression an odd mixture of confusion, excitement and mild disgust.
Grillby snapped himself back to full consciousness and alertness excruciatingly slowly, up until he realized that he had a skeleton still chewing on his wrist. that was tingling in a very odd way. He retracted his limb and attempted to rub some feeling back into it.
"IT IS TIME TO GO, NOW! WE CANNOT BE LATE!” Papyrus, who had likely never been tardy a day in his life was bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet and looked more than a little wired. Grillby fervently hoped that his apparent nausea was in regards to his willingness to get Sans’ germs all over himself.
On to the first order of business. "Ah, Undyne. I need you to take a quick walk with me." he commanded.
The fish turned to him, the eyebrow above her good eye disappearing into her hairline. . "Sure, what's up?"
Grillby walked her away from the group, hoping she wouldn't balk at the idea. Normally he tried not to let his fidgeting show in his gait, but he had set this up without her knowledge and was none too sure of what kind of reaction he'd get from it.
"I know you've ah, earned your stripes as our veteran band member." he said, going for a certain demureness he hoped would deflect any potential ire, but regardless of how she reacted this needed to be done. He ploughed on, coming to a halt a few yards away from a patient looking Korean man with a youthful face and carrying a complicated looking metal case.
Undyne's good eye flickered to him curiously and then back to Grillby. and with good reason. He wasn't the type to spring a huge event without warning normally and he had more than enough sense not to do anything that might potentially demoralize someone before a massive performance as well. Still, he must have looked a great deal more dire he imagined and he attempted to soften his features as much as was instantly discernable by anyone who wasn't a fire elemental or....a member of his band he spent massive portions of every day with.
“This is Tae-Yong. I know that Doctor Alphys looked at your arm earlier today, but I would feel more comfortable if you got a second opinion."
Grillby braced internally.
Undyne hacked out a laugh. "Geez you are such a nerd. You're clenching your arse so hard you might leave behind a diamond when you dust. Come on, even I know you're like a damn helicopter parent with a bullied kid over everything remotely relating to Mettaton. I'm surprised you aren't insisting we be in one of those bullet proof Pope cases or something that humans use." she snorted. “Cripes, I hate to agree with the fatass---SANS." she drawled her correction and punctuated it with an eyeroll, "But if it'll keep you from having whatever the fire monster equivalent of an aneurysm is, I’ll totally let the little guy look at my arm. Yo kid, let's do this."
Grillby hovered while he watched Tae-Yong look at Undyne's proesthetic, but he was anxious to get back to the rest of the group.
Sans was one to talk about being uptight,. Even if it sounded like an oxymoron where the stout skeleton was concerned, it had taken the monster a very long time to start treating their human staff, in spite of any definite trustworthiness and competency with any kind of valid respect or at the very least to get through a day without getting bored and trying to prank them into enough annoyance to net them a cut practice session so as to knock off early.
"Go on." Undyne rolled her eyes. "I think I can take the little guy if it comes to it. Trained by Asgore instead of Juvie, remember? I’ll totally smoke the little nerd if he tries to boobytrap my arm.." She laughed at the expression on the poor technician's face, but Grillby was weighing his options and decided to go check on what sort of chaos might have developed with the rest of his band.
Chaos backstage was an omnipresent creature in general, and it was best to assume the worst.
Papyrus seemed to have been reassured that his tongue was heretofore safe from burning guitars, and was hovering by a young woman bent over an amp while he plucked his guitar, perhaps a touch nervously. The amp in question belonged to Jerry and in any other instance the whole situation could have been seen as a bad case of White Knighting, but there was a common force against Jerry that transcended appropriate assumptions to make about gender roles and personal ability to stand up for oneself.
Speaking of nerves, the lumpy little spud was practicing, taking a cue from Papyrus he supposed. Muffett was having a reasonable discussion about her drum set and even Sans was about as serene as could be, dozing on his feet instead of rehearsing like the rest, but nor did that put him in anyone's immediate line of ire or anyone in his immediate line of interest.
"Yo, we're all done here. Got a clean bill of health - arm is virus and bug free." Undyne came up behind him, and he turned to watch her make a fist with the prosthetic and pump it in a show of enthusiasm.
Grillby pulled out his mobile and made the transfer of funds to the young technician, shook his hand and bade him stay around the back monitors for the remainder of the show. Only awards recipients, managers and directly involved individuals had the prime seats and the back rows that could be purchased by the general public had been long sold out, but it hadn't taken much to allow an extra to join the behind-the-scenes hangers on.
Now all there was to do was wait and hope that the leadup did not belie the success of the final product.
The crackle from his cb radio was a confirmation from Andraia that things were a go from her technician's perspective and he copied it, then pulled an unused amp just inside the audience's blind spot at the edge of the stage, took a seat and waited, hovering on the edge of it.
On stage, awards were being passed out for something; Grillby didn't recognize the recipients, he thought perhaps it might have been Spoken Word but even if he’d been interested this was too close to zero hour to pay the barest polite attention. They were in the final moments now; behind the set-covering curtain, Subterranical were taking marks, roadies were scrambling to complete their last chances to make sure nothing had slipped notice.
He caught Sans’ eye, in part because it was flashing gold-blue; but it was gone the moment they locked gazes.
“...Subterranical!” the MC walked off stage left to screaming and cheering and it was on.
Grillby tensed without realizing it.
The song was supposed to be the single - 'Fuck the War Machine'. Sans had no problem with censorship, personally finding 'bleeping' network sanctioned ‘offensive’ words amusing rather than anything else.
But this was not that song. Grillby’s SOUL clenched as it went through a wave of nervous emotions
Subterranical was definitely playing a new song. None of them had managed to disclose it; even Papyrus who was normally transparent as glass had managed to keep the secret.
There was no profanity in the song; and by the second verse, Grillby had stopped panicking enough to realize that it wasn't a prank.
He began listening to the song. It was good. Really good. Better than anything on the album.
Sans' lyrics were perhaps what put the the band as over the top popular as it was. Sans sang songs of war and murder and 'dark' things and that was to be expected of a Metal group and it probably lent some edge that they were Monsters which had evolved into something ‘unknown’ and ‘scary’ for humans. His true power lay in his odd...ability - ability really was the only word for it - to sound like a veteran of these things, even if Grillby knew personally that he was more or less the same age as him. They’d met as children. Not even Muffett - the eldest member of the band had anything on that kind of a scale as part of her lifespan. It would have been one thing if Sans were a researcher with a degree of accuracy and respect for a sensitive topic, but this wasn’t that either.
The long and the short of it was that Mettaton was a decent actor, but whatever talent he brought to his role as Monster Performer: Idol to Human and Monster alike, there was no match to Sans ability to exude something that suggested he’d been personally present for major events in their history.
However he managed it, it had only gotten stronger with time and it was in full force now. The audience was going predictably insane.
Grillby thumbed on the button of the walkie talkie, legitimately struggling to keep his voice low. "Wow. Got me."
Andraia flashed him a thumbs up from the sound booth and with that he let himself enjoy the moment.
The fire monster was very nearly doing a dance of joy. He had sat down to counteract the emotional and physical turmoil of the long day exhausting his magic, but no one watching him could have known it and for himself being tired was the farthest thing from his mind. He was burning bright, white-hot and orange, gold flickering off him in such fervor that he had to sink further into the shadows, cheering along with the crowd, almost feeling as though he was louder than all of them.
Something cool blew past the back of his neck, fanning his flames and he whirled in shock and a thrill of embarrassment to see Toriel standing behind him, a bemused expression on her face and lips pursed from the teasing puff of air she'd sent at his neck.
"Why hello there ‘Mr. Grillby.’" she smiled.
He didn't bother to restrain himself, still too caught up in the moment to care much about some minor bashfulness and hugged her, unashamedly. "You were able to come!"
"Yes, Muffett made a small tweak to the green room rider." she was wearing her bakery uniform and was still a little floury.
"The gifts you sent were excellent." he added, adrenaline continuing to eclipse his usual low-key shyness. And he was still holding her hand. There it went.
He barely had the time to dwell on the situation as the band had made their way off stage and he was bowled over literally by a sea of bones, fur, scales and hair. The tar from Muffett's black lipstick managed to sear a lasting lipstick-kiss mark on his cheek and his air was being uncomfortably choked off but yet he couldn't think of a situation he'd rather be in. Papyrus hefted him and Undyne had a brief scuffle with him with him over which of them could supplex him better.
Across the way the crew along with Andraia were celebrating in an equal, though somewhat less limb-heavy tangle, which he found himself pause to watch.
“So take it y’aint too pissed off with the new song?” Someone said into his back.
“No.” The breathlessness of the reply had very little to do with the fact that Sans’ arms were locked rather fiercely around his waist.
He relaxed into the embrace until Papyrus ripped his brother away with a whoop.
Grillby went to extract Andraia to take them down to their seats for the remainder of the evening, after they were re-dressed and/or cleaned up into their party clothes once more.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Sans and Toriel, huddled close together.
He squashed down the invasive spike of envy (and the still-lingering question of who it was for), wanting to get out of there in a huff...kind of...but mastering the childish impulse and busying himself with getting back on track until ''Professional Grillby was back in control.
He found himself , along with the rest of the band being hurriedly ushered out after the music played to coax a long-winded -award recipient off the stage, and the group were soon being served Champagne in an aisle-adjacent table. Grillby didn't know if it was coincidence or because they would be expected to be using that aisle soon, but he crossed his fiery fingers in the hopes of the latter.
As it turned out, Andraia won an award for Best Engineering on the Blue Album, which meant they were officially not walking away empty handed. Papyrus had been nominated for Best Metal Performance but lost gracefully to Metallica's latest tour (and he quite rightly felt there was no shame in that.) Still, it would be good to receive something band-specific for their troubles and Grillby found himself fidgeting through Lil' Hal's acceptance speech for best Hip Hop Artist more than he'd like to admit.
Monique Mondale was the presenter for the newly crafted Monster-produced album award and she had a short speech prepared on the importance of Asgore's significance in forming Under the Mountain records and how it was significant that this year there were enough Monster performers to create a category for awards.
Everyone knew including Punk Hamster himself that the race was between Glamour Bomb and Subterranical but the rodent-like creature waved at the cameras when they trained themselves on him.
Grillby tried to relax himself, but even using the big screen as a reference couldn't seem to unclench his muscles. Never had he been so grateful for his elemental nature - most anyone watching who wasn't familiar with a fire elemental would be able to read his body language for what it was.
Of course, his whole family would likely have something to say about it later.
Up on stage, Monique had come to the end of the ‘drawing out the suspense for extended viewing’ portion of her presentation and slid a manicured nail under the seal of the envelope. She bent near the microphone.
"And the winner of the award for Best new Monster artist is..."
She used the expectant pause to slide out the paper and bring it to eye level. "Subterranical!"
The declaration rang out to Grillby's ears las though it was screamed at decibel level. They’d won. There was no mistake about it.
Beside him, Undyne was impressively wrestling Jerry back into his seat with one arm on the pretense of a congratulatory hug and trying to maneuver Papyrus into getting up and making his way to the stage with her leg.
The tall skeleton walked to the stage, receiving a kiss on the cheek bone and a half-air hug from Monique and leaning down to the microphone even though it was hefted to its furthest height to read the brief speech.
“No, it IS fair, Mettaton...!”
In the chaos it took everyone a moment to realize that the voice that was speaking was not Papyrus'.
“...A-after...after what w-we did...we...di...didn't deserve to win."
Papyrus fell silent, realizing that he wasn’t being listened to and a horrified expression crossing his face as he finally processed just what was interrupting him. Even the curious buzzing that had started up had died down to near complete silence now, with the tv coverage crew having located the source of the unfamiliar, nervous soprano stutter.
"Y...You nearly killed Undyne." The cameras had zeroed in on Alphys, who was standing at her unimpressive full height over the seated and blank-looking Mettaton and twisting the bodice of her black polkadotted evening dress in her claws. If she was aware she was on television she either hadn't noticed or had moved beyond caring.
"A-and...and I kn--know it was a-an a-a-a-accident." her stuttering became more pronounced in her half-determined, half fearful bravado. "B-but...you---you made me lie and I don't want to lie and hide things Mettaton!I ...I hate it and Undyne deserves to win and we do not. A-and I...I-d-don’t care i-if you fire m-me! I q-quit!"
Sans folded his hands across his stomach peaceably. Undyne's face was now the one on camera but she seemed unusually calm.
At the end of the row, Grillby stood up.
He found himself walking down to the row of tables by the stage, . He saw the cameras follow his progress in his periphery vision. .
The entire room of elegantly dressed people was silent in the wake of Alphys’ pronouncement and (he acknowledged it as being) Sans retaliatory ‘prank’ . Grillby came to a halt at the end of the row in front of the duo, rooted to the spot and staring at the both of them. It was almost impossible to tell what he was thinking. That was generally the case as with no incredibly obvious facial ticks or features, but this was a whole different case.
Sans might have made a joke about ‘frozen’ and ‘irony’ but it was just so eerie.
Mettaton stood and finding himself almost immediately in Grillby’s face, took a careful step back, almost stumbling over his carefully crafted pink spile of a heel; an impressive feat for a robot with servos and motors designed to keep his balance level at all times.
Sans had sat up a little bit from his initial pleased ‘innocent observer’ slump but now was quite aware that what to come next was not good. Grillby had, it seemed, run totally out of his last vestiges of patience.
[Maybe this timeline had finally run its course.]
The fire monster reared up like a cobra - he was certainly tall but had always been thinner than even Papyrus (or so said Sans), In that moment however he seemed intimidatingly huge, his face, livid with blue-white flames looming down over Metaton’s .
“If you ever.” he began, voice dripping with bile “Come near my band again, I will find out EXACTLY how much heat it will take to melt magic-imbued metal.”
He plucked the award out of Papyrus’ fingers, turning to find him there; presumably to stop him but the elemental didn’t even miss a beat. The stunned guitarist didn’t make a move and he ascended the stairs, and very calmly placed it onto the podium. “We do not want this.” he informed the dumbstruck Idol hostess with quiet politeness, for all the world sounding as though he was returning a pair of trousers he’d discovered a stain on just out of the store.
He ushered himself off the end of the stage and as one the remainder of the Subterranical party stood. Somehow it seemed like the right thing to do. Grillby offered his hand to Andraia who barely hesitated to take it.
Internally he was delighted he had not found time to ask Toriel to be his date as he had initially planned. He swept her down the aisle before the confused and grateful looking security guards could react, stopping only at the auditorium doors to turn back.
Subterranical gazed back at him.
His eyes were kind now but his voice brooked no argument. “Let’s go home.”
***
The rest of the night passed in such a blur Grillby could have been intoxicated for all he remembered of it, though at least that would have been a better excuse. Much like being drunk the enormity of his actions at the ceremony hit him all at once once he had rubbed a decent amount of sleep from his eyes.
He had behaved foolishly, impulsively and childishly, so focussed on and distracted with his ridiculous (and nonexistent) love life he'd let his professional one slide into the proverbial ditch.
He dressed himself in a casual jumper and jeans and peered into the mirror. There would be a lot of work to do.
He had to start right away.
He was still livid.
Stepping out of his room, he predictably found the entirety of the band clustered around the dinette table as best they could, waiting for him and not even bothering to bicker about personal space.
Apparently somewhere in the last 12 hours or so, the table had acquired a new centerpiece - namely their award from the previous night.
Grillby had a pretty good idea where - or more accurately, by whose hand that had come from.
He tore his gaze from it and tried to spread it evenly among the rest of the group.
He took a deep breath and let it out, willing away some of his ire, even if he could feel his own flames licking as white as they had the previous night.
He opened his mouth. He was going to apologize, explain himself, ask forgiveness. Instead, he told them only two words. "September 6."
That said, he turned and exited into the kitchen, letting the door click quietly behind him.
Subterranical looked at each other from across the cramped Banquette.
70 days, 22 Hours, 35 minutes and 8 seconds before the next album dropped….
End of Season 1
To Come in Season 2…:
Grillby lay back comfortably on the bed, catching a rare moment of comfort and uninterrupted rest in the the peace of his hotel room. He scraped the last bit of pasta off the admittedly well-made room service plate and got up to put it outside for collection by the staff, only to be greeted by Papyrus, one hand raised pre-knock.
***
"DARLINGS! We are here for our turn to use the soundstage!"
***
“‘Sup Pap?”
“What’s this?”
“Well that would be food Papyrus. That’s what you tend to find in a fridge.” she’d been somewhat quiet since the moment of Alphys painful confession, but even she couldn’t keep the sass out of her voice.
“I KNOW THAT.” the Skeleton put his hand on his hip bone and then and grabbed the door before it could swing back shut. “BUT ALL OF THIS TUPPERWARE!”
***
"Yes." he said rather stupidly.
"I am sorry, I asked if you preferred cinnamon or butterscotch."
Dustmetal - who are your favorite characters to write?
I usually write Grillby and Papyrus as my viewpoint characters because both of them allow me to bring a certain amount of personal experience to the table. My favourite character is hard to pin down - I enjoy the opportunity to write for ones I don’t know as well because it’s a great thrill I guess when I get it right.
Asking a favourite is like asking a parent with more than one child to pick a favourite
Why I have Papyrus and Grillby as the viewpoints - I can point out what my favourite parts about writing each are:
Papyrus is fun because I identify with him a lot - canonically in-game and also here - I wrtie his transition from Rhythm Guitar to being thrust into Lead as a way of venting my frustrations on the Royal Conservatory of Music and not only that but my background as an academic writer and some of the frustrations I have over it. Papyrus is someone who is incredibly technical and (like myself) has great keynote and pitch memory and can learn things very easily. Where he - and I - falter is knowing how to put those things together but when it’s a creative way not having it come off as what I consider a visual representation of the gauntlet Original!Papyrus comes up with - just a bunch of components tied up together with ropes.- a bunch of technically great ideas executed perfectly but just strung together on the same rope.
With Grillby it’s definitely all about using my experiences doing my PhD as a basis. Um let’s say my family wasn’t thrilled when I wanted to be an English Major as it stands: I have 4 degrees actually - one’s in business. I have an HMBA. That was the only way I could get my degree in HELL (HonEngLangLit - yes yes yes it IS the best joke ever - very intended) and I just stuck it in their faces with the MA and the PhD.But um, no, my family was never super big on the things I actually wanted to do - I suppose it’s a good thing for me now that I know how to code and write for websites as it got me a job but happiness it does not provide. That having been said, I love writing for him because it was some of the most thrilling parts of that. Saying ‘fuck you’ to what your parents wanted, doing this thing that somehow you do well and even being a little grateful - I made the money to go to school via being a student loans officer. It meant I couldn’t ever apply myself but doesn’t prevent Grants and scholarships does it?.Nope it doesn’t. That rant about the hardest/best part of my life aside - it makes him so much fun to write for because I’m writing this person who is navigating a space that is so right for them but it’s also new enough that they’re still narrowly avoiding the various minefields.
To cap off - I don’t usually write Sans for this AU; that’s @prismportrait ‘s character but I love almost any scenario I write where Sans deliberately does a death metal growl or if I get to write anything expository on the subject as anyone who has heard me doing dramatic readings would well know.
Prompt #41 from this list - “You’re so embarrassing...ugh.”
In which Grillby isn’t as comfortable with the aftermath of his brush with death as he projects...
“You’re so embarrassing, UGH!”
Sans, used to hearing a statement of this nature or a variant of it directed at him, looked up instinctively.
He was met with Toriel’s confused stare, gazing down at him over the cover of a book. The duo were the only two on the tour bus at the time, Toriel quietly reading a book and Sans taking advantage of her fluffy lap.
Papyrus had finished practicing and had taken off immediately afterwards to sneak in a quick matinee, accompanied by Undyne and much to their dismay, Jerry. Muffett wouldn't be here until tomorrow...and he was sure that Grillby was...
...not at home. Yes that was definitely his car outside. No one else drove a red car that was that painfully uncool.
Sans glanced up at Toriel who was wearing a distinctly worried look on her face and privately he very much agreed with it. All things considered, Grillby had taken the accident well. It seemed to be nothing more than a prank that had got out of hand; kids who had not acted out of malice and seemed to have learned their lesson about copying shit they saw on the internet.
Sans of course had been livid, but going to put the fear of god in a few kids was...well, hardly worth the effort if Grillby himself didn't want to press charges or do much more than put the incident to bed...but yet Everyone - EVERYONE seemed to be taking this better than he was.
They praised the stupid human doctor who was barely qualified, some CHILD playing because none of the proper human doctors wanted to risk their reputations. They let the kids who came within a hairs breath of dusting his best...his PARTNER get away with a slap on the wrist. It was DISGUSTING. No one cared about a monster, even one who was as hard working and deserving as Grillby. Fucking humans.
But right now, he glanced at Toriel with concern again, letting her up and jerking a thumb towards the source of the sound with something of a hint of 'I told you so' mixed in with the worry.
Sans of course could be stealthy when he needed to be and years of practice not waking children meant Toriel crept along easily. As luck would have it, the door to Grillby's small compartment of the bus sat ajar; but even closed the thin fibers would have had trouble masking the muttering coming from within.
The fire monster was hunched over the small chest of drawers, peering into the sad excuse for a mirror, fingertips prodding gently at the deep fissures like cooled lava that the ice and water had left in his fiery magic.
Without a wall of living flames obscuring his facial expression, it was quite a bit easier to read his facial tics and body language, and the expression he was sporting now was simply SOUL-rending.
"Disgusting." the monster muttered, voice dripping with a venom that both had heard only once before, directed at a gobsmacked MTT as he was forced to answer for the damages done to Undyne’s arm.
It was true, Grillby took pride in his appearance, not the sort of vain over-the-top fashionista nonsense that the robot's A-list mentality implied, but more of a...hell, he didn't know, maybe there was some weird manager store where band managers bought boring understated suits they needed to wear everywhere.
A soft intake of breath behind him reminded him of Torel’s presence. Evidently this bout of self-loathing from the fire monster was as painful for her as it was for him.
The other sixty miles was that Grillby had realized he was not alone.
He wheeled around from the mirror, shock and something of a 'caught' nervousness on his face. He had probably thought he was alone, or had specifically come here to lay into himself in a bout of self-loathing.
Thank god for Toriel. Sans had never been very good at this sort of thing.
The former Queen strode forward, wrapping the tall monster into a hug and lifting him easily - (despite the gravity of the situation, Sans couldn't help but suppress a chuckle; the sight of the Queen forcing Grillby’s lanky limbs to accept being snuggled and carried never totally stopped being somewhat amusing) and draped her shawl over the dingy little mirror to block his view of himself..
"I do not, believe for a moment that you have become suddenly undesirable...or...disgusting, to use your own word." she was leaned back with him, while he sat up right, allowing her to stroke his back.
In response, the fire monster put his fingers back up to his scars, only for Toriel to prise them down again.
"No one is going to take me seriously like this. I look like some sort of a THUG."
Sans snorted. This was what he was worried about?
"No, no one is going to take you seriously if you keep letting Papyrus buy you jumpers with the lolcats or whatever nonsense he gets up to on the internet." He teleported himself to Grillby's opposite side, an idea flashing in his head.
Toriel could say soothing things all day long, but what Grillby REALLY needed was to stop thinking so hard for once. He had divined something he figured might be worth the old college try.
Before the fire monster could react, Sans reached up and scraped his phalanges down the most prominent of the 'scars'.
The experiment yielded almost immediate results. Grillby went slightly rigid before he he felt him lean into it.
"Heh, see? Not all bad."
Sans could nearly hear the audible click of Grillby's brain signing off.
He continued his ministrations, the press into his side getting heavier as Sans' fingers worked magic.
"Goodness." he heard Toriel mutter from Grillby's right and he wanted to laugh but settled for exchanging a very amused smirk over the fire monster’s drooping head.
Yes, the crackling sounded very very much like purring. Heh, maybe Papyrus was onto something with all the cat jumpers.
"Yeah, like that, don't you Grillbz."
There was no response; he was definitely asleep.
Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth Sans shrugged and showed off his talent for dropping off to sleep as swiftly as flicking a switch, head nuzzled into Grillby’s warm shoulder..
Toriel automatically grabbed for her phone but put it away. Adorable photo though it may have been, the thing that had started this mess? It probably meant he wouldn't exactly be appreciating any unauthorized photos.
She wasn’t tired, but under the circumstances, this all looked very comfortable so she leaned up against Grillby as well and dozed off herself.
Request Fic: Where stuffing a turkey is really referring to Sans and less about what's for dinner
I wrote this for @stuffedart. It’s frankly the most explicitly undertum thing I’ve written, so it’s tagged appropriately. It’s also Grilsoriel
It’s also a huge reminder I’m a Canadian. Plus one of the perks of writing Grillby as a viewpoint character allows me to show off my cooking chops a bit.
The story title was decided by @prismportrait
Grillby had always hated the holidays. Not because he personally, to use Papyrus' terminology, was a 'humbug' but in this part of the world, where they lived, November and December - 60 days involved an influx of humans at the restaurant. They all wanted the same meal. And a lot of it. For goodness sake, it was as though they were all channeling Sans.
Unlike Sans, the bulk of them tended to complain about the aftermath. Well OF COURSE you put on weight, OF COURSE you don’t feel good, you just ate your way through a month. No turkey or cranberries or mashed potatoes and sage and onion stuffing. In fact, he was going to eat...well, something that was as opposite from any of those things as you could get. And now Subterranical was a success, for ONCE in his life, he wouldn't have to deal with it. A whole two months where the most he would have to suffer was Papyrus' love of RIDICULOUS ugly Christmas jumpers
And not even for another month!
Or, so he'd thought.
There was a tap at the door. Sure it was just when he'd picked up his book but...well, that was bad luck.
“Come in.” he set down the book with a bit of longing. He’d been looking forward to this one. Undyne had really good taste in romance novels.
Sans sauntered in and sat on the edge of his bed, a grin on his face that Grillby was already starting to wonder what kind of trouble it spelled for him.
"Hey Grillbz."
The fire monster's eyes closed. "What. Is. It, Sans?"
"So I found out that there's another country, just North of here...and a LOT of our fans are from there. And Lillian!
"Who is Lillian?" Grillby knew this was all going to be something very self-serving.
"She does the tuneups on Jerry's Bass amps.”
Grillby made a mental note to give Lillian a nice bonus this year.
"Get to the point, Sans."
"They have a huge dinner in October."
"No."
"Grillbz, c'mon."
"Please, No?"
Sans gave him a hard look but left. Grillby was not so naive as to believe this was over. What he was not expecting was that his eventual giving in had nothing to do with Skeleton trickery or coercion.
“Grillby?”
He looked up at Toriel, who glanced at the book and interrupted herself..
“Oh, what part are you at?”
“Fabian and Janet arrived at the greenhouse.”
Toriel half-blushed, half squealed. “Oh that’s one of the best parts...just wait until…”
“Toriel, was there something you wanted to talk to me about?” he cut her off, mostly to avoid spoilers.
“Ah...yes. I ...don’t suppose you’d consider...ah, changing your mind about Sans’ suggestion, would you?”
Oh he was weaponizing TORIEL against him? Sans should know how bad this would fail.
She read his expression correctly and blushed more. “It’s….it’s not for him. It’s...for me.”
“Why would you celebrate that holiday...um…”
“It was...when Frisk celebrated it.”
No, Sans could not possibly have known about this.
“I see.” he said and grabbed his phone from the nightstand. “...I think I can do it this sunday.”
It was worth it to see Toriel’s face light up and the absolute enormous hug that followed..
“Would you like me to show you some spoilers for the novel?” she asked in his ear.
Yes. Yes, he could live with spoilers.
***
“Hey Grillbz. I was…”
“Toriel and I are going to have Holiday dinner on Sunday.” he mentioned smugly. Naturally, Sans had clearly wanted to be the one who convinced him to cave but true to form, he was pleased with getting what he wanted out of the deal.
“Hm. Well...I’m not doing a whole turkey.”
“Bu--”
“It won’t get finished and even the smallest ones take a long time.”
“I’ll finish it.”
On the other hand, he might want to see that. Sans did exert effort on food.
Plus Toriel had promised him sweet potatoes that had small marshmallows in them; further proving that Sans still had a lot to learn with regards to manipulating the bartender.
***
Sunday morning found Grillby in the kitchen, carefully making a garlic, basil butter that he was painstakingly loosening the skin without tearing it so as to get the butter underneath while it roasted.
Toriel had offered to prepare the dessert along with her sweet potatoes, and Grillby hadn’t said no; the former queen was masterful enough on her own steam, and goodness knew what kind of new levels she’d reached working to Muffett’s standards.
He’d decided against stuffing the turkey, choosing to make dressing instead; hazelnuts, cranberries and oyster mushrooms, with plenty of thyme and chives.
He noticed Toriel watching him when he started halving sprouts - they were small ones, not the awful strong-tasting huge ones.
“Sprouts? With Sans?”
“I’m fairly confident.” he said.
“Don’t get haughty with me, Grillby.”
He had the grace to blush and mutter an apology. “Roasting them with salt tends to change the flavour. I’m going to re-use the bacon fat too.”
She too amended her expression. “You’re never too old to learn.”
The bacon went into the spaghetti squash and there was a chickpea salad with a roasted tomato vinagrette. Sans probably wouldn’t catch the nuance but they both were aware that Grillby was bound and determined to distance himself to some degree from his father’s pub fare. Toriel was smiling as she handed him the glass baking dish with the sweet potatoes and caught his arm. “Thank you.”
“Well at least I’m doing it for…”
“No, thank you. Asriel...is staying with his friend in November...um...Chara, I think their name is...and and Asgore’s new wife…” she was tripping over her words and he pulled her close, any lasting ire he had for Sans, slipping his mind.
“Well then I’m pleased to do it.” he said simply.
He popped the last of the food into the oven, set the timer and eased himself into a seat at the table. Before he did, he had a few calls to make.
Papyrus and Crystal happily agreed to attend, especially after the later was assured that he could still make his showing of Nightmare on Elm Street he wanted to review for his blog. Undyne declined - fortunate in retrospect; Sans would not have appreciated Alphys’ likely accompaniment.
Now in the aftermath of the preparations, Grillby was enjoying himself. He was going to give Toriel the family dinner she was craving and he did love Sans too and was glad to give him the experience at the end of the day. Doubly so because they didn’t quite get there because he’d forced his hand.
He settled in to read more about Janet and Fabian’s increasingly kinky exploits until the timer dinged.
The meal was some of his finest work. The turkey skin still managed to cling to the meat while still being crisp when he butchered it, the gravy was smooth and had just the right amount of black pepper, he’d mastered the technique of blackening on the sprouts and the vegetables were perfect. Toriel’s sweet potatoes were homey and inviting.
The dinner guests were watching a sitcom rerun on the the television when he poked his head in.
“Supper.”
Sans was already sitting at the table when the remainder filed in, having teleported himself. Grillby didn’t miss the skeletons’ eyes going wide. Toriel hadn’t missed the two spare guests either, and seemed to have correctly guessed what he’d tried to do, sneaking in a kiss.
Sans looked as though he more or less wanted to be shameless on the dinner table but had settled for eating.
“NO! THIS IS NOT SOMETHING THAT WE DO! WE DO CELEBRATE YOUR CHRISTMAS HOWEVER! I AM DELIGHTED TO SHARE IN ONE OF YOUR CUSTOMS!”
“Oh...I see!”
There wasn’t much conversation after that as the efforts of Grillby and Toriel had not been in vain.
Grillby watched as Sans devoured two plates then a third. Crystal had second helpings of the spaghetti squash as did Papyrus who normally never took seconds on much.
Toriel ate almost two and a half helpings on her own, but she was a boss monster.
It came down to Sans.
Grillby was reminded suddenly of his promise to finish the whole turkey. Evidently Sans himself had not forgotten either as once he took stock of no one else taking any more servings helped himself to the entire platter, pulling it towards him.
“Oh Sans…” Papyrus muttered.
“Oh Papyrus….” Sans offered back.
The lot of them found themselves watching the elder skeleton devour the turkey, starting with the leg, the remainder of the thigh, the last traces of white breast meat, and finally the gizzard, leaving nothing but bones on the plate. He grinned at Grillby.
“Told ya I would.”
Grillby allowed himself to be gobsmacked. That was indeed impressive. Moreso when he asked for pie.
The white chocolate and pumpkin pie was every bit as incredible as Toriel’s baking prowess promised. Papyrus and Crystal bade them farewell to catch their movie while Toriel shooed Grillby away from the sink of dirty cookware.
“You’ve done enough. I’ll take it from here.”
Grillby decided he could have kissed her, then realized he could kiss her and did just that.
There was a soft moan from the table.
The duo turned around to discover a rather plump skeleton and a very empty pie dish.
Grillby gave Toriel a look that promised he’d handle it. He scooped up Sans who was deadweight in his arms. Grillby was tall but not exactly the muscular sort.
In the sitting room, he placed the over full skeleton on the seat with relief and sighed. “I hope this was worth it.”
Sans gave him a thumbs up.
“C’mon Gribblies.”
His stomach gave a massive groan and Grillby sighed. “Very well.”
The fire monster’s gentle touch belied his grumbling and he rubbed circles with his flaming hands into Sans’ sensitive belly. “You. Are a glutton. And you deserve this.”
“Belly rubs? Yeah I do, making songs for you all the time.”
Grillby sighed again, but his fingers moved to the rounder sides of the dome, gentle the whole time. The same finesse he’d accomplished in making the meal.
It was Toriel who found the duo this way, Grillby’s warm hand just pressed against the skeleton’s large gut and both napping.
She smiled and took the knitted afghan off the couch to place over them
Inktumber day 3! I missed it because I was bad and not taking care of myself but after lots of naps and eating something, I am back! And happy to bring you the first inked thing I’ve been really happy with in at least a year.
@dustmetal AU black belly Sans and Grillby! I couldn’t resist after talking with @frankpanioncube yesterday lol. Can I emphasize how much Sans secretly loves twirling his fire hair? Cause he really does.
A handful of the original notes I had for ‘Season 1′ of Dustmetal: It is a list of things that I wrote down and tried to remember or follow. It's not the whole list, but I don't know how much writing I'll be doing anymore so, enjoy.
Notes for 'Season One' fo Dust Metal
Even as much as Sans likes Grillby, it should always be a game of Roulette whether or not he'll comply with a request. He shouldn't feel like he 'owns' Grillby even if he claims something like you manager/me talent, but he will often be very 'convincing' until he gets his way (whining/pleading/coercion in general. )
Early Sans makes Papyrus a MASSIVE priority and Papyrus’ inclusion will be a massive deciding factor as to how positive his behavior is in a given situation.
Papyrus reliance on Sans’ presence should be slipping a bit by the end of the season - as Papyrus gains independence.
Papyrus should always be surprisingly and increasingly technically gifted at things he enjoys - cars, his guitar, but it should be very clear that he lacks some creativity that is employed by Undyne, or Sans (think in game - very technically refined but his most crazy puzzles are clearly a lot of smaller things jammed together.)
By comparison it should be clear that Sans, although he likes to project the image of the edgy rebel - anyone who analyzes his lyrics or song choice - someone who would be familiar with poetry would recognize for some reason that this doesn’t sound like a kid being edgy or even a well-researched person who is writing respectfully on serious issues - this almost sounds like someone who has lived said serious issue. ...but that doesn’t sound right.
On that note, Undyne and Sans disagree on almost EVERYTHING but Papyrus.
If at any point Sans and Undyne are COMPLETELY on the same page it has something to do with Papyrus’ involvement.
Grillby must have a taste for the finer things in life but may never be vain. At any time, any line about luxury and/or appearance said by Grillby or MTT must be immediately distinguishable out of context.
Grillby and Sans actually should be good for eachother (even if it isn’t obvious yet - Grillby’s patience may yet cut through Sans’ inability to trust and Sans might get Grillby to relax every now and again and take care of himself by easing up on the demands he places on himself.)
Jerry must be portrayed as a competent, if stagnant bass player - the band is for their foibles COMPETENT.
Papyrus does not ever totally haul off at anyone, even Jerry. Not in the first season!
Undyne should always be at least in some context very loyal to Alphys. Even when hurt.
Undyne is experienced. She has the most experience of ANY of them being in a band; even Grillby should defer to her on occasion.
It should be clear from the outset of the big pervading issue of Season 1 that MTT has never had his popularity threatened in quite so obvious a way; this is the crux of the issue and could have been avoided simply by acknowledging that no one was stepping on musical-style toes.
In which Subterranical finds themselves having to perform a concert on Opposite Day due to inclement weather.
The rental car was a pile of shit, some sort of reject SUV that Grillby predicted was going to break down before it did. Some human holiday here had lead it to being the only thing available so his hand had been forced, not that it was doing much good.
He was, by his estimate, about a half hour's drive outside of the city and perhaps another fifteen minutes to the concert venue and he would sell his SOUL for Papyrus right now, but thankfully (perhaps) Papyrus was at least no doubt exactly where he ought to be; backstage at the Subterranical concert., in the green room.
The place he'd come to a stop was fortunately a town or..the nearest approximation of one he could think to find, at this point. Apparently there's a post office (useless) a convenience store (also useless unless he'd been woefully misinformed all these years and ice slushies and shitty coffee were in fact the true answer to the world's fuel problems...and a pub. Well. At the very least a bar could have the numbers of a tow truck or a cab service. . Maybe it would be alright. Undyne was reliable, She could do what needed to be done, Papyrus would be able to take care of Sans.
He pulled out his phone, flicking through the contacts for Papyrus' number. .
"HELLO, MR GRILLBY WHE--" The crack of thunder was so loud it managed to drown out the tall skeleton's volume.
And of course it had just gotten worse.
Not bothering to reply right away, Grillby hurtled out of the car and ran for it like a bat out of hell, the edge of his coat whipping inside the door before it started coming down in buckets.
The phone crackled with bad reception. "....BY? WHA....THAT?"
>>Grillby: Bad Connection.
He sighed, watching the little hourglass flip over and over.
Message did not send. Retry?
He tapped it again,hoping a sliver of data would get through and took a moment to look at his surroundings.
Oh look. He'd discovered Hell. To call the place a dive would be polite.
Grillby knew this kind of pub atmosphere all too well. During the time in the Underground, his own place had been in danger of falling to this; run not by the owner but by the regulars who refused to allow anything that nourished their sense of nostalgia to be replaced, regardless of how it would improve the establishment overall.
About a thirty minute drive away, Papyrus was now the centre of attention, the majority of the group crowded around his phone as though it held the secrets to the Universe.
"What was that all about?"
""Well, Mr. Grillby, is..." Papyrus frowned. "I think his car's broken down."
"Well that's easy." Undyne snorted. "Sans can just do his warping thingy and pick him up."
"Yeah, first off, not a Taxi service Undies. Second, can't go to a place I've never seen." Sans was in fact grateful that Undyne did not know the extent to which he'd discovered that limitation on his shortcutting the hard way. He could swear sometimes he still felt the vice-like squeezing on his stomach from getting wedged in that pipe. .
"Ugh, oh, I forgot, you need Grillby here to fucking change your nappies and feed you rusks." muttered Undyne sourly.
Papyrus was prepared to step in, but nothing escalated.
"Looks like we're on our own then. ."
"Can we...on our own?" Papyrus asked uncertainly.
“Yeah I remember how some of it goes...." Undyne figured she could alway get Papyrus do an MTT impression if they got into too much shit. Thankfully the skeleton tended to suffer well, if not quietly, then at least without complaint.
Back at the pub, Grillby was suddenly something of the center of attention, even with the alcoholic stupor of the incredibly drunk people at the bar, what with his natural light cutting through the thick gloom.
"Shiiiit?" the oldest and drunkest of the patrons drawled out. "Y...you're on Fire, mate...."
This would have been barely cause for alarm, save that the guy actually managed to haul himself up and lurch his way over to the fire extinguisher. "Monster. I'm a MONSTER." he exclaimed in a panic.
Grillby backed sideways, trying to get some chairs and tables as a buffer against the guy.
"Oh." Drunky blinked blearily at him and then tried to pick up the fire extinguisher again.
"Hey. I. Am. A. Fire. Monster. I’m supposed to be on Fire."
"Oh yeah...."
Great. Now he could use a drink. If he was a human he would have probably had at least three coronaries by now. . As it was his anxiety levels were off the chart
And then, he noticed it. The woman behind the bar was wearing a Subterranical band shit. A fan. The one time a Fan could be USEFUL. .
Grillby ran up to the bar, giving the drunk who had tried to use a fire extinguisher on him a wide berth. "Excuse me?" he asked the human behind the bar. "I'm actually with Subterranical and I need to get back stage."
The reaction was...not the one he'd been expecting. The bartender took in hi s polished shoes, suit and crisp tie and barked out a laugh. "My god, you're with the biggest METAL band of all time? I mean...maybe I shouldn't serve you, you sound like you're already drunk!"
Grillby hissed. "Fine. Then if you won't believe that, then will you believe my car broke down and I need a tow?"
No sooner had he uttered this, then the power succumbed to the deluge of rain, throwing the bar into a darkness now only broken by Grillby's own light and the light of the phone screen he’d held up.
The bartender frowned and something seemed to dawn on her. She picked up the phone receiver, then jiggling the phone cord and Grillby didn't need her soft cursing to realize what the situation was. Everything was completely down and the only way out was to wait for the rain to stop.
He pulled a good handful of local currency out of his pocket and dumped it into the counter.
"As much as that will get me." he muttered, standing at the other end, far from the fellow who still seemed like he might attempt to weaponize a fire extinguisher if the fire monster wasn't careful. .
Seemed like the only thing left to do was drink until he believed there was a god to pray to.
***
Meanwhile Undyne was running through a checklist of everything that had to be done before a show. Damnit it had been a long time since she'd even had to be a part of the process herself.
With nothing to do and no demands being made on them, the venue staff were practically taking a leaf out of Sans' book and napping on the job. Her begrudgingly polite requests weren't doing anything and nor much to her consternation, her ultimatums of supplexing were falling as flat as thee idle threats they were.
"Okay Papyrus. You see that...." She swallowed down a curse. "...guy...over there? In the um. clothes?"
"WHY YES! I DO!"
"Go over to him and um, tell him this:"
She scribbled furiously on a piece of paper and handed it off to him.
"I The Great Papyrus, put one hand on hip dramatically like I am a poncy loser who bathes in glitter, need a sound check on all amps and equipment, darling, now flicker eyelashes like a ....I AM NOT USING THAT WORD!"
"NO look, those are ...you're not supposed to SAY that part, you're supposed to do it!"
"Why would I want to act like a....that word?"
"Because it GETS PEOPLE TO DO THINGS, PAPYRUS! And we are suffering here. These guys are LAME NERDS! LAZY, SANS-LIKE NERDS!"
"...I resemble that remark." Sans muttered from somewhere behind Undyne, supremely unconcerned with the situation.
The rhythm guitarist hissed and stalked away, dragging Papyrus with her. She just barely managed to ignore the fact that Sans flickered after them, clearly teleporting around after her on purpose, to underscore the fact that he wasn't able to rescue Grillby from wherever he was.
"Look, Papyrus. Like this."
Undyne affected the pose she’d described, but with her lack of prominent hips she somewhat failed to pull it off. Papyrus however copied her without complaint, with far better results.
He slowly repeated the spiel, right down to the affected accent and sashayed off in the direction of the venue staff at Undyne’s shove.
"Good lord, he's a better MTT than MTT is."
For all that they sniped at one another, Sans and Undyne were often very in sync when it came to the matter of Papyrus.
"Hopefully that’ll never happen." Sans muttered, even as Undyne said “Fuckin’ Ew.”.
The funny thing was that it worked. Papyrus came bounding back to them in awa as the human rallied his troops to do the things the skeleton had asked.
"BUT MAYBE I SHOULD HAVE SAID THANK YOU?"
"After the show Paps." Undyne patted his arm and didn't miss the look of relief on Sans' face that mirrored her own. "Now, head over there and try the same thing only with that Makeup woman. We have to get into our corpse paint.”
***
Grillby's finger missed the 'resend' button on his phone, despite the fact that it was pointless. 'No Service' blared at him from the upper corner of his screen and he was well aware that he was going to be sick at some point in the next 24 hours if he kept going down this road.
He downed another straight shot anyway, the action causing his flames to burn whiter and hotter, fueled by alcohol.
His battery dipped to 1%, clinging to life for one last shot and a handful of bar pretzels before finally, finally getting to the power down screen.
And then he truly was the last light left in the place.
It didn't matter. The show, if there had even been a show, would be over soon.
Then he would have to sober up and handle all the damage control; refunds, balance the books and find places to minimize their losses...that freaking car needed to be towed and possibly emptied of water; he remembered he hadn't closed the door in his bid for safety.
He slumped over the counter, arm dangling over the lip on the other side of the counter, face burrowed into the crook of his other arm against the sudden onslaught of...light?
"Gribbles?"
"MR GRILLBY! YOU ARE...VERY DRUNK!"
Grillby's head shot up and he forced himself to focus.
Yes, That was his band. He felt many arms sneak around him, Muffett supporting him from behind. He looked up and the first thing that struck him was that Sans' corpse paint was running and slowly, slowly his mind put it together, Sans only sweat that badly if he'd been on sta- his thoughts were interrupted by a rather loud hiccup - ge. They'd done the concert.
.He made a vague gesture that he hoped conveyed that, as he didn’t trust himself to speak clearly.
"Oh hell yeah we did! Two encores!”
“Yeah.” Sans didn’t look THAT put out.
In tthe background the bartender's voice had rose to fever pitch "OH my GOD this guy's REALLY a part of Subterranical?"
“Yeah, he’s our manager.” Undyne shrugged. Grillby was barely registering her now.
"H...how'd you?"
“...Find you? We didn’t. We wanted a drink on the way home from the show. So this is where you’ve been all this time?”
“ALL YOUR DRINKS ARE ON ME!” Screeched the bartender.
“Great.”
“YOU ARE AWESOME.”
“We know.”
For once Jerry’s personal ability to be an asshole in any situation was the source of catharsis for Grillby, perhaps because it wasn’t directed at him.
“C’mon we’ve gotta catch up!” Undyne cheered.
“It’s quite alright. Fenrir’ll be waiting for me at the hotel dearies. I’ll take Grillby back.”
He nodded. This was their night after all and he was so very, very drunk.
“On second thought….”
Grillby didn’t remember much else until his head hit the pillow. “Ummm, thanks Muffett.” he muttered.
“Not at all, not at all…” she said, something strange in her voice. “I do charge for turndown service.”
“Kaaaay.” he could hear rustling and something being placed over his shoulders...but the blanket wasn’t providing much cover. He yanked it up a bit with fumbling fingers and oh, god he was drunk everything was shifting under him. He must be dizzy.
“Niggh…”
“Asleep?”
“Oh yes. Watch.” Two fingers flicked Grillby’s chin, eliciting absolutely no response.
“Oh shit, I can’t believe he really thought he was back in the hotel room!” Undyne snickered, trying out the same maneuver that Sans had earlier. “C’mon Papyrus, get the picture.”
“Ahuhuhu, I must admit the napkin-blanket was a stroke of genius.”
“Are you sure we should be…”
“C’mon, how often does Opposite Day come along?”
Even Grillby had to admit the photo of him passed out drunk was pretty funny, in the end.
