Chapter Text
There was a slight throb at the back of his head and a sliver of fatigue weighing down his eyes and Gaster prod at his temple, hoping that this – this- would be enough of a reminder for his future self to stop drinking the night before making important decisions. He didn’t learn his lesson, obviously – just look to the few gulps of tequila that went down the hatch this morning.
As that stood, it was the next day and Gaster was at the grocery shop, in between the (incredibly vital) decision of which instant ramen flavour to purchase. He’d have normally left it be, or at the very least put it off ‘til much later, but ever since the night before, Gaster couldn’t help but harbour a mild distaste for his own house and with the leave still in place, he had nowhere else to go. That, and well, there was quite honestly no food inhabiting his empty, empty house.
So, with chicken in one hand and beef in the other, he argued with himself, and it was then when he overheard a familiar voice. Deep, ever so slightly monotone, hanging in the air. In that split instant, his previous thoughts ran menial, and he threw the two flavours in his basket before practically gravitating towards the sound.
“I know, bro, they’re both super cool, but you gotta pick one. Which one seems the most super, uber cool?”
He rounded the corner, and sure enough, there he was. Sans. He seemed to be everywhere, Gaster thought – though the Underground was indeed a small place, New Home even smaller. (At this rate, he was going to become a permanent fixture to his life.)
Besides him was another skeleton – his brother, surely - roughly around the same height, maybe even a bit taller, but Gaster was unsure whether those light-up platform sneakers were giving him an unfair advantage. In his hands were two plastic action figures, rather tacky in Gaster’s opinion, but the way the boy gripped onto them made them seem like pure gold.
“But they’re both super uber cool!” The boy looked close to tears at the decision. He looked at the red one and then he looked at the blue one. “I can’t choose between them – what if the other one gets sad that I didn’t choose them? Or- or they get lonely without the other?”
“Paps,” Sans began, clearly struggling.
It was a strange view. It wasn’t as if it was unlike Sans – Gaster didn’t think he’d have the right to believe that when he didn’t even know Sans that well to begin with. But it was indeed strange. Gaster didn’t exactly envision him to be in this scenario, nor did he envision him to be struggling in this manner.
So when it was clear Sans’ rebuttal wasn’t going to be exemplified, Gaster decided to make his presence known.
“Sans! A surprise bumping into you here,” he said, as if he didn’t just hound him down at the slightest hint of his voice.
Sans turned to see him, and a small smile graced his teeth.
“Ah, doc,” Sans said, his shoulders sagging slightly in relief. “Oh, uh, Doctor,” he continued, stepping back so that Gaster would have a clearer view of his brother. “This is my brother, Papyrus. Papyrus, this is my boss at work, Doctor Gaster.”
“Hello, Papyrus-“
“Hello! It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mister Doctor Gaster!” And before Gaster could even recover from the onslaught of loud, enthusiastic words, he was floored by the unabashed brightness of the next sentence. “I, the Great Papyrus, wish to express my upmost gratitude to you for giving my brother a job!”
The little skeleton had his head held high, his chin pointed, and was staring at Gaster with such sincerity that the other didn’t know how exactly to react. And if there weren’t still small remnants of tears in the corners of his eye sockets, then Gaster would have never thought that the boy had been crying over the feelings of plastic toys just moments prior. It was such an outright, genuine display of emotion that Gaster didn’t know what to say back.
Apparently, Sans took notice. Gaster shouldn’t be surprised, not at this point – if anything, this was just a return in help.
“Geez, kid, lay off the old man for a second,” he said with an airy laugh, the one Gaster liked so much from before. “I don’t think he can take in all of your coolness at once.”
“Oh.” Papyrus reacted simply. As if that explanation made perfect sense. “Yes. I hadn’t thought of that. I apologise, Mister Doctor, not everyone can handle the greatness I exude.”
“That’s,” Gaster began once he had the chance to breathe. “That’s quite alright, Papyrus.”
Papyrus tilted his head at him as if Gaster was a puzzle he was trying to solve. “Sans was right. You’re not nearly as scary as other people say.”
Gaster blinked.
“Of course, somebody as brave as me, would never allow anything to be a fear!” He struck some sort of pose, like he had a cape flowing in the breeze behind him. “Though… Hm. Maybe it is because you are rather tall. I’ll be just as tall as you when I’m an adult. That’s because I drink all my milk! Unlike Sans…”
And Gaster had no idea what information was the most important to latch onto in that slurry of a conversation, so when he finally got his words back, he said, “Yes. Your brother is indeed short – Ow.”
Sans gave him a look, throwing the baguette he had weaponised back into his basket.
“I can’t believe you require a baguette to be able to reach me – Ah -apologies, apologies-“
“Brother, put the baguette down! You cannot do that to your boss, that is very unprofessional,” Papyrus said, with the voice of someone who had at least fourteen years of bragging under his belt.
“Nuh-uh,” Sans said, childish tone equipped in contrast. His arm was still comically raised, baguette in hand. He then spoke solemnly, like he was teaching Papyrus a life lesson. “It’s off-hours. Anything’s free reign. That’s how it works.”
Gaster probably should've butted in, lest the child grows up and terrorises his future employers, but Sans shot him a look that made him stop. Besides – it was admittedly amusing. Gaster could, at the very least, grant Sans the ability to keep the joke running.
Papyrus looked between them – Sans and his baguette and Gaster with his arched brow and awkward stance – before he stared at the floor, thinking. He nodded. “Yes. That makes sense,” he said. “Okay, well, you should at least tell him when you are going to attack! That is the only noble way to fight.”
That was… not right at all. What was this logic?
“You’re so right, bro.”
What was this?
“Hey, doc, I’m gonna hit ya. Hard,” Sans spoke, but even with the dramatics, he swung the baguette towards him in slow-motion.
Gaster simply stepped to the side.
“Oh no, Paps, he’s good,” Sans said, pretending to wipe off sweat from his brow. Or at least, Gaster hoped he was pretending. “I don’t think I can fight alone. I need someone strong. And fast. And really, really cool.”
Papyrus was gaping. “Like who?”
“Like you, bro,” Sans whispered.
“Oh.” Papyrus blinked. A huge grin popped onto his face. “Oh, yes! Of course!” Papyrus said quickly. “Ehem. Mister Doctor Gaster! Prepare yourself! For my special attack!”
Personally, Gaster already felt attacked. “Alright?”
“Brother! Pass me the baguette.”
Gaster had to admit. When he woke up that morning (torn between feeling shitty due to little sleep and a slight hangover, and content for reasons he couldn’t explain), he didn’t think he’d have to stage a fight with a child he met just five minutes prior. That being said, he wasn’t even good with children. He didn’t really have a strong opinion of them either way – unless they were loud and crying, and in that case, he had very, very strong opinions that would be ‘unbefitting’ for a monster of his status.
But after last night, he discovered two things. One, spending time with Sans wasn’t something he hated - and wow, when was the last time he came to that conclusion about anyone else? Then two: seeing Sans happy was a pretty okay experience that Gaster wouldn’t mind experiencing more than once.
So, when that small skeleton child in front of him, began to brandish a baguette like a sword, he did the only thing any other morally good monster would’ve done.
“Oh no. I’ve been defeated.”
Admittedly, he wasn’t a very good actor. Excuse him, this was his first time pretending to die over a stick of bread.
Apparently, that hardly mattered to Papyrus.
“Nyeh heh heh!” He laughed in a manner that was endearing on him but probably maniacal on anyone else and raised the baguette up like a victorious soldier in war. “I did it brother!”
“Knew you could, Paps,” Sans said with a smile. It was amused and gleeful, and Sans had looked at Gaster before he looked at Papyrus. Gaster had many feelings about that. Many feelings indeed.
Papyrus laughed again. The baguette in his hand drooped slightly.
“Oops,” Sans said. He grabbed the end of the baguette that was falling down. “Looks like you were a lil’ too strong there.”
“Oh no!” Papyrus said. He lowered the baguette and inspected the damage. There was a crease in the bread – a deep crack a quarter down that made it lose its structure. “I don’t know the limitations of my own boundless strength!”
“Hey, no biggie dude,” Sans said. “We can just grab another one. Here, I’ll replace it now.”
“But what about the other monsters who wish to buy baguettes?”
“There’s still plenty to choose from, don’t worry about it. Besides, if no one chooses it, it’ll be broken when they throw it out anyways, right?”
Papyrus looked sad at that. “Yeah,” he said and handed Sans the bread.
Sans just pet his head as he thanked him and turned to Gaster. “Hey, you mind looking after Paps? I’ll only be a minute.”
“Of course not,” Gaster agreed easily. Sans smiled again (again!) and took his leave.
Unfortunately, when Gaster had agreed to the proposition, temporarily careless in his thought process, he forgot that that meant he would be alone with Papyrus, with no Sans as a social barrier. The aforementioned was currently looking at him expectantly. He really didn’t need an awkward minute like this.
“Uh,” he began. Impeccable start. “You are quite strong.”
Papyrus beamed. Gaster could see how Sans loved the child. “Thank you, Mister Doctor Gaster!”
“Just Gaster would be fine.”
Papyrus tilted his head. “But my brother still calls you Doctor?”
Oh. Gaster hadn’t really realised that. At this point, ‘Doctor’ was just a second name to him. It was basically interchangeable, especially considering most monsters didn’t believe they had the status nor right to be referring to him so personally. “Well. He can also refer to me as just Gaster.”
Papyrus thought about that for a moment. “Okay!”
And then silence.
“Say, Papyrus,” Gaster began. “I overheard you talking about buying toys earlier.”
“Oh yes!” Papyrus said and he went back to grab the figures he had left by the shelves. “Aren’t they so cool?”
Gaster tried to not openly wince. “I suppose they are… cool?”
“No way! You must be a connoisseur of action figures too!”
No? “Yes?” Apparently Gaster was an avid fan of tacky plastic figurines now.
“I have to choose just one though,” Papyrus said, and anyone could hear the pout in his tone. It wasn’t any different to seeing a kicked puppy. “Which makes me sad. If I only get one, then neither of them would have a friend. They should sell them in pairs so they’re never lonely. But…”
“About that. I could buy you both.”
And just like that, Papyrus looked at Gaster like he had given him the sun. This was… a dangerous child.
“Really?”
“Yes, if you would allow it. Consider it…” Well, he very well couldn’t admit to the real reason. The real reason being… Well, the reasoning didn’t matter, he had money to spare anyways. “A reward. For defeating me. It was an honourable fight.”
“Of course it was!” Papyrus said. “All heroes fight honour-ably.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes! All of the heroes in the stories Sans reads to me are very honourable.”
“All the stories I read to you are what now?” Sans returned with a new baguette in hand.
“Sans!” Papyrus immediately rushed over to him. “Mister – I mean, Gaster said I can have both!”
“Gaster said what now?” Sans raised a brow, eyes travelling up to meet his.
Gaster had the urge to shift his own eyes at the look. As someone who had self-respect and was certainly not afraid nor embarrassed (nor flustered), he ignored it. “Oh. Uh. If you wouldn’t mind. I can buy both for your brother.”
Sans stared at him. And as always, Gaster had no idea what Sans was thinking. All he knew was that he was being scrutinised. After what felt like an impossibly long five seconds, Sans nodded. “Aight. Whatever you say, Gaster.”
Well. The name calling was certainly doing something. Something Gaster could not comprehend nor really wanted to. Perhaps his years of isolation made his thought process on simple social concepts too entirely screwed.
“Welp,” Sans continued, either oblivious or uncaring to Gaster’s inner turmoil. “Put ‘em in the basket bro. I think we got everything.”
“I’ll carry it!” Papyrus said, taking the basket and the baguette.
“Hey, you wanna race ahead of us? You can save us a spot in the line,” Sans said.
“Of course! I’ll make sure we get the best spot in line!”
Sans snorted at that. “Sure thing. Don’t mind me and Gaster – we’re old and slow.”
“Okay!” Papyrus yelled as he began to rush ahead.
“Old and slow?” Gaster repeated when the child was out of earshot. “You are certainly not old enough to be making that excuse.” He decided not to comment on himself.
“Sure feels like it,” Sans said with a chuckle, rubbing at his eye. He paused, and within that short snap of the moment, Gaster finally took the chance to look over Sans properly, without Papyrus as a distraction. From his initial arrival, Sans looked just about as same as he always did, with the same lazy grins and casual demeanour. But now, looking at him with even just a bit more effort, there was a worrying hint of weariness that grazed his eyes, a concerning tremble that came from his closed fist. Perhaps letting Sans stay late at his house to drink was not an entirely wise decision.
“Are you feeling unwell-?” Gaster began, just as Sans did.
“Listen, about you buying those figures-“
They both froze, blinking. Sans was the first to get out of his stupor, coughing as he shoved his hand back into his hoodie pocket, deep. “I’m fine,” he said quickly. “Just-“
“Did you sleep enough? Have you eaten anything?”
“Uh. Yeah, and yeah?” Sans said. “I’ve slept and eaten, don’t worry about it. Besides, Imma be grabbing grub somewhere later. Anyways, that’s not important.” He shook his head. “I just wanted to talk about you buying the figures and-“
“I can pay for everything.”
“-You really don’t gotta.”
“Oh.” They both stared at each other for the second time that conversation.
This time, Gaster started first. “I can pay for your groceries. And I assure you if you think it’s charity, it’s not-“
“Uh. I don’t. I mean, I don’t wanna.” Sans shook his head. “You’ll really pay for everything?”
“Yes.” Gaster wanted to make sure his tone was nothing short of sure.
“…That won’t be a bother to you?”
“Of course not. Sans, I assure you it would not make a dent on my finances.” He paused at that. “I hope that does not sound too… privileged of me.”
Sans didn’t answer to that part. He seemed too entirely preoccupied by other thoughts. “Would I have to pay you back?”
“No. No, that is really not needed. Sans, this is nothing to me,” he said, although some part of it really was something, just not in the way Sans was probably thinking.
“Okay,” Sans said quietly. Then he spoke again, much more clearly. “Okay.”
“So… you’ll accept my offer?” Without asking why?
“Yeah.” His voice was still a little smaller than usual. He tried again to match his usual nature. “Yeah.”
“… Was there a reason you were hesitant?” Gaster tried to take his chance.
“Nah. It’s nothing,” Sans said. “Hey, c’mon, let’s hurry up before Paps is forced to pay with the money he doesn’t have. Ya know, the last time I did that to the kid, he just began screaming like a damn siren. Not even my name, just vague vowel sounds-”
And just like in that alley, Sans began moving again before Gaster could even think about responding. For someone with such short legs and an attitude that screamed ‘please don’t make me walk more than two steps at a time’, he sure could walk fast. Papyrus, oblivious to their conversation prior, just waved them over with a grin. They spoke nothing of it when Gaster paid for their groceries, alongside his multipacks of ramen. They still spoke nothing of it as they shoved things into their inventories, with the exception of the action figures that Papyrus carried, one in each hand.
They still spoke nothing of it as they began to leave. The only somewhat mention of it was when Sans thanked him before they were about to part.
“No worries,” Gaster replied. “I suppose I should get going-“
“Wait!” Papyrus paused from making fake explosions with his figures. “Are you busy today?”
“Paps-“ Sans began as Gaster answered.
“No, I suppose I am not.”
“Maybe you can join me and Sans on our fun day out!” Papyrus said. He was clearly not oblivious to Sans’ look when he continued. “You and my brother are ‘friends’, right?”
“Uh.” There was certain intonation of a certain word in that sentence and Gaster really didn’t know what to think. He stared at Sans. Sans just shrugged back, though from confusion or ignorance, Gaster couldn’t tell. “I suppose we are, yes.”
Guess he had a friend now.
“Well spending time together is a good way to improve friendships! It’s in my friendship handbook!”
“Uh.” Gaster had to admit, his vocabulary was decreasing more and more in the time span of this conversation. “I… suppose so?”
“Come join us! It’ll be fun – we’re going to go to Grillby’s – even if it is a bit greasy – then the park-“
Sans cut off his brother’s excited rambling with a gentle hand. “Listen, bro, I don’t know if the Doc has the time-“
“But he just said he wasn’t busy-“ Papyrus said, the slight whine creeping in on his otherwise serious stance.
“He’s the Royal Scientist, bud-“ Sans tried again.
“He’s also my friend now too!”
Well then. Gaster didn’t know where exactly along the line that happened but despite his dick-ish tendencies, even he couldn’t refuse that out loud. So Gaster supposed he had two friends now, the most popular he’s been in a while.
Sans scrunched his nose at the declaration, and whilst his smile was left unchanged, a sigh escaped past his teeth. “Yeah. You got a point Paps, sorry.”
“Uh,” Gaster interrupted dumbly. “I wouldn’t feel opposed in going. That is, if you do not mind.”
“I,” Sans began. He stilled as he stared between him and Papyrus. Gaster was right – that kid was deadly. “I guess I don’t, heh. Uh. We’re gonna head to Grillby’s for lunch. You ever been?”
Gaster knew of a Grillby in the war. It was so long ago though that he doubted that this was the same monster, though fire elementals were known for their long-life spans. He shook his head. “I can’t say I have, no.”
“Oh boy, you’ve been missing out,” Sans said. “We gotta travel a bit to Snowdin though. It’s completely worth it, I promise. It’s the pinnacle of fine cuisine.”
Apparently, Sans’ definition of fine cuisine was a small bar out in the town of Snowdin, filled with loud patrons and funky music. Sans walked in easily, shooting jokes left and right as people greeted him. He was right at home, it seemed. Papyrus walked in a bit more gingerly but made his way over to a stool at the bar quick enough that Gaster could realise that this wasn’t his first rodeo either. Gaster just trailed in behind them.
Grillby – eponymous for the bar – was indeed someone he hadn’t met, but as it turned out, he wasn’t wholly wrong to associate a different fire elemental. The monster before him was a Jr. and the monster Gaster did know was Grillby Sr.
Gaster didn’t exactly mention this, though. His only memory of Grillby Sr. involved sending him orders to back up the first line of attack during the war. He hadn’t really thought about him since then; he didn’t really think about anybody after he had just commanded them. It was a lesson he had learnt, really, a valuable one that gave him less nightmares when he dreamed.
It was nice knowing he actually got to start a family though. Perhaps start a normal life despite the trauma. That was a weight off the boulders Gaster refused to carry. Though, this was most likely just a fortunate roll of mercy from the universe – this was the positive side of the spectrum and Gaster would rather be blind than see the opposite end.
Grillby Jr. himself was much like his father in regards to his quiet nature. Then again, Grillby Sr. probably didn’t get much of an opportunity to express himself with Gaster as his commander. Sans was apparently used to this fact, though, and his same joking nature was extended to the quiet bartender.
To that, Grillby’s flames crackled just a little louder, and the sparks shone just a bit brighter, and Gaster told himself it was just a trick of the light.
“Grillbz, this is Gaster. Gaster, this is Grillby,” Sans said, taking the stool next to Papyrus. Gaster sat next to him on his left.
“… Greetings Doctor,” Grillby said with a low crackle.
“Gaster is fine,” he responded, tone automatically melting into a practiced civilised one – the type he’d use in work agreements, the type he used to talk to the King. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Sans told me this place is ‘exemplary’.”
Grillby looked at Sans who gave him a dumb grin. “… Flattery will not make me forget about your tab, Sans.”
Sans just blew back a raspberry. “Worth a shot. Hey, Gaster, whaddya want? The burgs here are killer.”
Gaster couldn’t remember the last time he had a burger, but without much else influencing his thoughts, he took the recommendation. Papyrus requested a milkshake and all Sans asked for was his ‘regular.’ Of course, Grillby knew what that was and just a few moments later, he came back and set down a burger in front of Gaster, fries in front of Sans and two milkshakes (strawberry and vanilla). He then reached into the front pocket of his server apron and placed a few ketchup sachets in front of Sans.
“…Sorry,” he said lowly. “We still have to replace the bottles.”
“Hey, no biggie,” Sans said. He ripped open a sachet. Gaster took a quick glance at the fries, expecting them to be covered in the sauce not a second later, but when there was no movement towards it, Gaster looked back up. Only to be met with a slight horror.
Gaster stared.
Sans continued as if there were nothing absolutely heinous about his actions. “I just wanted to ketchup with you.” He sipped at the ketchup packet and Gaster looked around to see if anyone else was seeing what he was seeing.
There were, but apparently this must’ve been a common occurrence because there was more of a reaction towards Sans’ lame joke than there was the… that.
Like that bartender. Grillby had raised a brow but there was no mistaking the way his flames grew higher. Gaster stared.
The world moved on around him, regardless. “Brother, that was bad,” Papyrus said, not even eyeing the exchange as he sipped his strawberry milkshake.
“Yikes, tough crowd, huh?” Sans said. He moved onto his next ketchup packet, ripping it open with his teeth. “You gonna start throwing tomatoes at me now?”
“That was even worse,” Papyrus said. “Mister Grillby, make him stop.”
Grillby just shrugged, shaking his head with the same tire of a man who had lost that battle years ago.
“Gaster?” Papyrus asked, to which he also shrugged.
“Off-hours.”
“Impossible!” Papyrus huffed out a groan. With a pout still on his face, he reached over Sans and stole some of his fries before promptly shovelling them into his mouth. From his passive-aggressive chewing, Gaster found it hard to believe in his proclaimed hatred of grease.
Another packet down, Sans just pushed the plate of fries closer to Papyrus.
“Do you not want any?” Papyrus asked but now the frown of his face was less of annoyance and more of worry. It made him look older, Gaster realised. Less childish.
Sans just shrugged. “We can share. I’m not that hungry.”
“The ketchup is ruining your appetite.”
“This? This is barely anything.”
“Hmph. You say that but you keep eating more. You should still drink your milkshake at least.”
Sans let out an exaggerated groan. “Whatever, ma.”
“This is why you’re short.”
To that, Gaster couldn’t help the huff he hid behind his hand. Sans raised a brow at his reaction and Gaster gave him an innocent shrug as if to challenge a call-out.
Sans just rolled his eyes. “Height is overrated,” he said, but he went to grab his milkshake anyways. “You guys are just overcompensating- oh shit-“
It came as a flurry of motion.
The tips of Sans’ fingers slipped from the rim of the glass, the drink collapsing down onto him. His reflexes were fast enough to catch the glass on his lap rather than have it smash across the floor. He quickly picked it up off himself and set it back onto the table with a loud ‘clink!’ but nothing could save the disaster of milkshake splattered over his shirt and shorts.
“Fuck-“ Sans swore.
“Brother!”
“Sorry, sorry,” Sans immediately apologised. “My hands just-“
His eyes quickly darted towards Grillby, and it was only then that Gaster realised just how intently the other was staring at Sans.
“-I’m sweaty,” Sans said, and for someone who’s seen Sans lie at least thrice a day from the few weeks he’d known him, Gaster could admit that was one of his poorer excuses.
He certainly wasn’t the only one to figure that out, though, but he was apparently the only one to stay silent. “We don’t have skin, brother,” Papyrus said. He wasn’t even looking at Sans as he scolded, instead digging through his inventory for something.
“You’ve seen me sweat-“ Sans began but was stopped once he felt something hit his lap.
“…Use that,” Grillby said with a murmur as Sans began to pat himself dry with the cloth given to him.
“I have a spare jumper,” Papyrus said. “I think we’re still the same size.”
“Yeah.” Sans looked dazed at this point. “Guess we are.”
“Go change in the backroom,” Grillby said. “Papyrus, go help your brother. You can wet a towel by the sink.”
Papyrus nodded and jumped off the stool, already rushing towards the fire exit and entering what Gaster assumed was the backroom. Sans followed him from behind, much more meekly.
“… Sans,” Grillby said suddenly, just as Sans had a hand on the door. Sans stopped and stared at him and Grillby continued, tone serious. “… Shakes?”
“Heh,” Sans laughed feebly. “Yep, those were milkshakes alright.”
“Sans.”
Wince. “Yeah, I guess that wasn’t a great joke.”
Grillby didn’t grant a response to that.
Sans simply gave him a weak smile. “Just tired.”
There was a moment then, wherein Gaster felt like he was nothing but a bystander looking through a glass window. Grillby gave Sans a look and a hum – a look and a hum Gaster could neither explain nor describe, and though it may have been partly due to the fact that Gaster had only met the man less than half an hour ago, he had the feeling no time in the world would make him understand unless… well, unless he was Sans. The smile on Sans’ face faltered by an inch at the look, shrinking in on himself in a way that reminded Gaster of a child that got reprimanded.
“… Just a little,” Sans said, voice small enough to be mistaken for a whisper. “Sorry.”
Grillby shook his head. “Don’t be sorry to me.” Despite his words, his tone was anything but harsh. Sans looked away anyways and with a sigh, Grillby nodded so he could leave.
Gaster stared at the whole ordeal.
(There was always something strange about seeing someone else’s relationships outside of yourself. It’s like… there are parts of people that are privy to you. It makes you feel special, makes you feel close to them – it’s personal. But then comes the realisation that as much as those parts may be reserved for you, there are other parts reserved for other people. And that… that sometimes sparks an ugly feeling, one that’s never truly justified no matter the explanation.)
That’s why this whole ordeal was something Gaster usually just avoided, an easy feat considering his lack of ties with anyone. But this? This was blatantly laid out to him.
He decided to turn his eyes away, taking small bites of his burger instead, despite his own small appetite. As such, he tried to ignore the atmosphere around him.
Bars depressed Gaster.
Sure, they upheld a tradition he was very much fond of – day drinking – but that in itself was more than a little sad, no?
Bars were funny little things to Gaster. A faux sense of community fuelled by liquid therapy. A fun distraction, a pretence of normality to forget that everyone around you was just about as broken as you feigned not to be. A communal drowning, an ocean.
Gaster didn’t frequent bars much, never mind when they were filled with people. He never took up Sheehan’s offers for work drinks, nor any other employee that was brave enough to try. He doubted he ever would.
Gaster preferred to drown alone.
That being said, he had yet to order a drink. But… He took another bite of his burger before he set it down. Somehow his appetite for that too, was quenched.
There was a clink on the table that roused him out of his thoughts, and his eyes moved to see Grillby set the spilled glass down again, after wiping the bar top clean. He picked up the empty ketchup packets.
“Why does he eat that?” Gaster said and he blinked, realising he spoke aloud.
Grillby froze in tandem, apparently just as surprised at Gaster’s beginning of a conversation. “…Eat?”
“The ketchup,” Gaster said, deciding to just commit to it. He needed answers, after all. “I was unsure if it was one of his jokes but…”
“… It’s not. Not really,” Grillby said. He paused as if contemplating the pros and cons of giving Gaster any explanations. “… They remind him of Bloody Marys. He liked them a lot.”
“The drink?” Gaster asked, cocking his brows. He understood Grillby was a man of few words but that helped nought. “Why doesn’t he just order that instead?”
Grillby didn’t even look as he replied. “…So he stays sober.”
“Oh.”
It was such a simple response. A simple response that caused way too many complex feelings. A knot formed in his stomach.
Grillby stared at him for a second. In that second, Gaster was oddly reminded of a different elemental, clad in armour. There was a certain spark in the both of them that allowed Gaster to read that he was being scrutinised. However, unlike his first experience, wherein he was being scrutinised in a way that mannered subordination, this felt anything but.
“…What’s your relationship with Sans?” Grillby said finally.
Gaster straightened up, brows furrowing. “What?”
“…Are you close to him?”
“Well.” And Gaster couldn’t help but hesitate. “I’m his boss. And… I suppose we’re friends. Why?”
“…You’re the first person he’s brought here. Minus his brother.”
Oh. Well Gaster didn’t know what to do with that information. “Well, it was more his brother who asked to string me along, so I don’t know how much of… that, can be factored in.”
Grillby looked at him once more before shaking his head. “… Nevermind..." Another pause, this time lasting longer. "Can I ask a favour from you?”
Gaster’s brows knotted themselves deeper down at the sudden request. “Alright?”
“… Look out for Sans. Please.”
Gaster blinked at that. He’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t expecting this at all, but to actually hear it out loud… “Of course.”
To that, Grillby’s flames waved slightly in what Gaster could only assume was relief.
“You seem quite fond of him,” Gaster commented.
“I am,” Grillby responded easily, too easily. He added, “…You also seem quite fond of him.”
And Gaster hesitated.
“… He interests me.”
And Grillby gave that hum – the very same one he had given Sans earlier, and like last time, Gaster assured himself that he didn’t understand. This time, though, he knew he was lying.