#spectrumsans

(Psst, here’s a birthday one-shot with Grillby and Spectrum!Sans. It uh, turned out longer than intended, but I hope you like it, man!)

His flames were hissing.

Heavy droplets pummelled him from above as he ran, head bowed and legs staggering and stumbling on the muddy mountain track.

He’d been out for a walk. A short walk after work, after closing up the small tavern he’d managed to purchase on the edge of town. 

Sans had been his last customer. The skeleton had looked a little startled when Grillby had told him his afternoon plan.

“get back home on time, yeah?” Sans had said, blinking. “things’re different, up here.”

When he’d locked up the tavern, and his customer had meandered off, Grillby had walked into the wilderness at the base of Mt Ebott, appreciating the beauty of the surface. Watching the setting sun colour the approaching clouds.

Different, indeed.

The thought of being prepared hadn’t even occurred to Grillby. He’d been careful in Snowdin, he’d been well-equipped in Waterfall the few times he’d had to journey though the rain. 

He’d been foolish. But he’d been a creature of habit, and his routine had changed completely.

Grillby slipped, landing on the muddy ground. He dragged himself to the base of a tree, the flimsy branches barely sheltering him. He focused all of his energy into the core of his being, his flames small and yellow as he lay on his side.

All his life in the predictable climate of the Underground, and this is how it was going to end for him.

Being caught in the rain.

He thought he was alone, out there. The only person who’d seen him go in this direction was likely fast asleep in his house, by now.

So he was startled when he felt the ground vibrate, as slow, cautious footfalls approached him.

He made out a large form, a shape in the torrential rain. White, glowing lights peered at him as the shape approached, and the bartender blinked slowly up at them, taking them in.

Grillby would have called it a fellow monster, had he seen anything like it before. 

It was a skeletal beast. Twice… or perhaps thrice his height. It looked quadrupedal.. predatory. Spines travelled down its vertebrae, its teeth and claws wicked and sharp. The light lights seemed fixated directly on him as the creature seemed to speed up on their approach.

The bartender drew in a steadying breath, gauging whether the spend some of his precious energy to defend himself or remain still.

And as suddenly as that, Grillby felt the thudding of claws suddenly cease. A huff sounded.

Slowly, shakily, he began to push himself up. The rain hadn’t stopped - but it was no longer falling on him.

With a grunt, he managed to sit up. And he stole a glance overhead.

He was between the beast’s forelegs. The creature’s great skull was bowed, slightly. Rivulets of rain dripped down the sides and off their closed jaws.

They carefully sat down, hunching over him as much as possible. The rain was relentless, but their looming skull was more than enough shelter from the skies.

It was all deliberate, Grillby woozily realized. 

His flames free of the rain, he felt them warm considerably. He could feel himself slipping away into slumber as his energy returned to heating his core, his back slumping against the beast’s foreleg.

He wasn’t the paranoid sort - but definitely guarded. Suffice to say it would have been unwise to fall asleep in the presence of a stranger. 

So, Grillby wondered why he felt so relaxed.

—

Grillby woke up near the flame stove in his tavern kitchen. His arm had been slung into the hearth, bringing warmth back to his weak and yellow flames. 

The door had been battered off its hinges.

And the creature was nowhere to be seen.

—

Sans showed up one Thursday evening, when everyone else had better things to do than stay in a small tavern.

He’d showed up with an alarming amount of gold. His tab. He gave it as little fanfare as he possibly could, plonking it down on the counter. Then, he plopped down on his usual stool at the bar.

“may as well have a clean slate while we’re up here, huh?” He chuckled.

Grillby watched his tired grin. It seemed genuine. Not something conjured from nowhere, no putting on airs. Sans rarely forced his smiles, but he’d always seemed to have one ready for any given moment. Something to pull out to keep the mood pleasant, and easy.

But, this one seemed prompted. Relieved.

“how’re you holdin’ up, bud?” 

When Grillby looked back over at Sans, he noticed he was holding his hands a little differently. He used to drum his fingers on the bar counter, but now he rested his crossed forearms on the wooden surface. The lower hand curled up into a relaxed fist, the upper hand resting across the top of his sleeve.

They were slightly clawed, Grillby realized. Sans hadn’t wanted to scuff up his new counter.

“… Better.” He said, with a nod. “Thank you.”

“how’s about the usual, bud?” Sans had relaxed again, and Grillby chuckled. He stooped down, grabbing the waiting red bottle from beneath the counter.

“time to open up a new tab, i guess.” Sans shrugged, popping the lid off the ketchup.

Grillby shook his head as the skeleton began to drink.

“… On the house.” He said. “For your help the other night.”

Sans continued drinking the ketchup bottle. For probably a moment longer than usual.

He gently set it down with a clink.

“… anytime, pal.” He said, simply. “… sorry about the door.”

There was a pause. Then, Sans’ eyes met his.

“how’s about you watch the weather report next time?” He said, raising a brow.

He didn’t explain any more than that. But Grillby was content to leave it there. It was one of the few times his longtime friend had given him a straight reply.

Chuckling quietly, the bartender took Sans’ payment from the counter.

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