Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Excluding the most important holidays, there was only one other day a year that Grillby’s was closed. The lights inside would be turned off, the shades drawn and the doors locked. That this day was a day Grillby’s was closed was normal for everyone by now. It had been a constant for nearly twenty years now. The regulars were out of a place to hang out for the day, but it was okay. Grillby didn’t ask for much, just that you pay for what you eat and don’t cause a ruckus in his restaurant, so everyone was more than willing to give him this day.

If anybody had bothered to go to Grillby’s and look inside by peering through the gaps in the shades (which no one ever did), they would have seen that the lights were indeed off, but there was still light inside. It came from the fire elemental that was seated at the bar, alone, his flames dimmer than normal. Grillby was quiet by nature and by choice, as his voice was more of a whispered hush than anything deep and resounding. The normal hustle and bustle of his restaurant resulted in noise too loud to be heard over, so him being quiet was never an indicator that something was wrong. Normally only Sans could perceive small changes in him and his mood, and recently, Sans had seemed distant and quieter than normal.

Grieving for the death of a loved one in the underground was different than in the human world. Grillby remembered the years before the war began and they were driven underground quite well. When a human would die, the family and friends of the human would attend a funeral, and the other members of the community would not be affected. When a monster died, the shattering of their soul, the absence of their magic, was something everyone was able to take note of. All monsters would be there to give support to the dead monsters family, even if they didn’t necessarily know each other.

Maybe that was what made all this so hard. The lack of solidarity in his grief meant that he carried all of it all on his shoulders, with no support from anyone.

The lack of solidarity was due to the fact that no one remembered. No one remembered the man who had saved them from a life of darkness and cold, and even from an illness that had threated to destroy their entire population.

No one remembered W.D. Gaster.

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When the war had raged on the surface, everyone had lost someone. Attacks from humans in the beginning often meant many monsters – both soldiers and innocents – perished. One of these had included Gaster’s partner. She had been sickly and weak anyway, especially after she had given birth to both Sans and Papyrus. She had died in a fire when their village was attacked during the night.

Grillby had been friends with Gaster since they were children. Naturally he was there to comfort him. They were both called to serve on the offense as the war began to reach its peak. Sans was left to raise Papyrus largely on his own. Gaster regretted that for the rest of his life. He had never wanted to leave his boys alone. Grillby and Gaster came home as often as they could (home was Grillby’s house. The humans hadn’t yet gotten there, and with nothing but elementals around, they sure seemed hesitant about coming). Grillby had no family, not anymore, but the water elemental that lived near him (she was nice, even if she was made of water) helped look after the boys.

Grillby loved the boys, just as much as if they were his own children. Sans had begun calling him ‘Papa’. When he had first done it, Gaster’s face had been dusted purple, and Grillby couldn’t stop laughing. He was happy he was able to be a part of the boy’s lives, even if it was like this.

They lost the war. Grillby and Gaster had known they would. They were forced underground and sealed within.

As they moved into Home, the both of them found the newly established town of Snowdin to be the best fit for their home. Grillby’s was opened, Gaster became the Royal Scientist, the boys were put in school, they each had their own houses. They were happy, despite the occasional fuss Grillby raised over the fact that Gaster was neglecting himself by maintaining his duties as Royal Scientist and as a father. During those times – usually during weekends – the boys stayed a night or two at Grillby’s so Gaster could rest and recoup. Often times, Gaster would come and join them for dinner before the boys went home.

It was nice. So nice.

With this close contact, their history, and the fact that the boys loved Grillby – their ‘Papa’ – it was no surprise they eventually fell for each other. It had been an awkward and rocky start, since Grillby was so quiet and Gaster was so reserved. But they had known each other for a long time. They knew how to communicate with each other without very many words. They could read each other’s body language and the subtext in their words.

For the first few weeks, it was all about getting a feel for each other’s comfort zone in terms of intimacy. Grillby was by far the most affectionate. He had no qualms ‘kissing’ Gaster in public, and was the first to link their hands together when they were walking side by side. Gaster, while he had every intention to do these things, was much more shy and often times had no idea how to properly initiate them. Grillby didn’t mind. Feeling how Gaster held him when they kissed or when he squeezed his hand as their fingers fit together was everything he needed.

The weekend stays at Grillby’s had become less of a sleepover and more of a vacation. Grillby loved spoiling the skeleton family, Gaster included. And at the end of the day, when the boys were asleep in the guest room, Gaster curled up with Grillby in his bed. The comfort and the warmth was unlike anything else in the world.

It was like a dream.

And like dreams, they eventually must end.

____________________________________________

When the CORE had been constructed and activated, everyone had praised Gaster’s genius. Energy had been brought to the entire underground, save for some of the more remote places, and things were getting better. Grillby and Gaster couldn’t be happier. Both boys were in school now. Sans was advancing through his studies quicker than the rest of his classmates. He had inherited his father’s mind, as well as his tendency for terrible puns. Papyrus loved school, but he was so much more naïve than his older brother. Due to this and his exemplary kindness, other children tended to pick on him or make him the butt of their jokes. Needless to say, the first time Papyrus came home crying, Sans, Gaster and Grillby took care of it quickly.

One of his customers – a regular for a long time – had mentioned it to him. They had asked when he was going to marry his sweetheart. Grillby had honestly never thought about it. Neither he nor Gaster had felt that marriage was necessary for demonstrating love for one another, but they weren’t against the idea either. That would be interesting, wouldn’t it? Gaster wouldn’t be just his boyfriend. He would be his husband. Grillby had flushed a bright blue then.

He was closing up the pub when he felt it. The sudden ripple around him, the electricity that tore at his flames and brought them from their normal bright color to a dark, deep red. The constant magical presence that had become such an important part of his life, that had become a part of his soul, was gone.

____________________________________________

The Royal Scientist, W.D. Gaster, was dead.

No one but Grillby remembered him. Not even Sans and Papyrus. And when he had braved the wet conditions of Waterfall to go to Gaster’s lab, no one remembered him there. And when he went to New Home, to see the King, no one remembered him there. No even the king, who had been one of the few people Gaster considered his friend.

Grillby was alone in his grief. His lover was gone. He was alone again. Sans and Papyrus stopped coming over to his house after that, but Sans came to his restaurant to plague him with puns and drink all his ketchup. It broke his heart all over again. Each pun reminded Grillby of Gaster, and it made Grillby miss him all the more.

And so now he sat alone at his own bar, wishing more than anything the seat beside him, as well as his empty hand would be filled. A single cupcake with one lit candle sat beside him. Gaster didn’t like sweets, but he let Grillby make him one once every year. It was a special occasion. Grillby would make it, then Sans and Papyrus would decorate it. They were much better at making it look as good as it tasted (Grillby was terrible at making the icing look nice, though Gaster would often comment that he doubted Grillby could make food that tasted terrible even if he tried).

Grillby reached in to the pocket of his vest and pulled out a small photo. It was one he had taken months after they had gotten together. Sans and Papyrus were in it, both of them beaming, the latter keeping a firm grip on his brothers hand. Grillby was standing behind Sans, and beside him was…

Was just a black smudge, a shadow, barely an outline of who had been there before. If Grillby really focused, he could just barely see the outline of his smile. His arm had been wrapped around Grillby’s waist, while the other hand had a firm hold of Papyrus’s free one. Grillby knew if the image was clear, he would see Gaster leaning into his shoulder and holding him tight, looking down at Papyrus with a fond smile and a loving gaze.

With each passing year, the image of the man he loved grew fainter, and Grillby dreaded the day when it disappeared forever. Everyone else had forgotten Gaster, even his own sons. Who was to say, with enough time, Grillby would start to forget him too? He was afraid he would forget his smile, his laugh, the feeling of his hand in his, the feeling he got when Gaster would kiss him. That he would forget the drowsiness in his voice when he first woke up, the tender look he gave him right before he said “I love you”.

God, he didn’t want to forget.

The picture was pressed against his breast, handled with fingers made of fire as if it were the most precious thing on earth. With the pain that lingered in his soul, his memories, this photo and the turtle neck sweater that still hung in his closet, he knew he had the power to remember for a while longer. Maybe that was one good thing about no one else remembering; no one else sharing in his grief. The sting would last a lot longer, and it would remind him every day of the man he had lost.

“Happy birthday, Gaster,” he whispers to the empty bar, his voice only barely disrupting the complete silence of the normally loud establishment. If he could cry, he thinks it would make him feel better. That was something Gaster had told Sans once. That crying didn’t mean you weren’t strong, and it would make him feel better if he did. Right now, it felt as if coals were filing his chest, restricting the flame and making it tight and hard to speak.

How he wished he could cry.

At some point during the night, he took the cupcake from the counter and put out the flame. He couldn’t eat it. There was no one else that would. He burned it up until all that was left was a handful of ash.

Walking home in the snow was so much more lonely than he could have ever imagined possible. In the past, he would close just before dinner time, and Gaster was always there to walk back home with him, hand in hand. He would close early so he could spend dinner as a family, with Gaster and his sons. Gaster had always told him that they were his sons, too, but ever since everyone forgot, he didn’t dare let himself think that way.

It hurt too much.

The turtle neck sweater was still there, in his closet. He took the sweater from the hanger and settled into bed, holding it against his chest. His bed was too cold. Too empty. He was too alone. He hated it. He missed the socially awkward, reserved and brilliant scientist, the caring, loving and happy father, and the beautiful, sweet and adoring lover.

He fell asleep well past midnight, a tightness in his chest and an irreparable pain in his soul.

Chapter Text

The first time Grillby saw Sans come in with Frisk, he had kept a close eye on them. Each human had the potential to be dangerous. Grillby inherently hoped they would all be kind and merciful children, like the children he had known on the surface that liked to have him walk them to school during the winter because he was warm. Of the six that had come previously, four of them had been kind, lovely kids, even though they never stayed in Snowdin for very long. The other two… they hadn’t been as kind. One had even come into his restaurant and tried to fight him. Key word, tried. Grillby was passive. That didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous, especially when someone came into his restaurant and tried to harass his customers. He didn’t want to have to kill a human again, but he did send them on their way rather quickly.

However, Frisk had proved to be a sweet, caring child and often went out of their way to make others feel happy. They stayed in Snowdin for quite a while, talking to all the locals and spent a good amount of time with both Sans and Papyrus. And even after they continued on their way, they still came back to Snowdin every now and again to see everyone.

He had thought he was imagining it the first time he saw it. When they came with Sans the first time, and they had requested burgers and ketchup (not for the burgers but rather for Sans to drink), he had turned to go make it for them. Out of the corner of his sight, he had seen a hulking, dark, near translucent figure standing just behind the child. When he had looked back, he had seen nothing, and dismissed it as a figment of his imagination.

The second time it had happened, the figure had been darker and more present than before. If Grillby didn’t look directly at it, he could begin to see more. It had a white face, a wide, dark smile that sent chills down his metaphorical spine. It wasn’t too long before he noticed that every now and again, Frisk would glance over to where the figure was and would smile, but only when they thought no one was paying them any attention.

Despite the ominous feeling that crept down his back when he saw this figure out of the corner of his eye, he found he was never truly afraid of it. There was only one thing Grillby was truly afraid of (losing Sans and Papyrus like he had lost their father), and a strange, dark figure wasn’t one of them. And he was never given a reason to feel like it would cause harm to anyone. Frisk seemed to be the only other one that could see it, and he trusted that Frisk wouldn’t befriend anyone harmful to monsterkind.

The only other thing that had happened out of the ordinary when Frisk was around was something physical. He had his hands on the counter and was listening to Sans (a lengthy joke that was longer than it would be normally, due to the fact that Sans continually cut himself off by laughing at the punchline he hadn’t yet shared with them). After a long moment, he felt cold against his shoulder, and felt a pressure against the back of his hand. He didn’t dare move, mostly because he didn’t want to make a scene, and because Frisk was watching him. The pressure was light at first, and after a moment (of hesitation) it steadily increased.

It was soft, tender. Familiar.

When Frisk managed to break the barrier – sparing everyone, including themselves – Grillby found he was somewhat reluctant to leave the underground. He would, in the end, but it took him a bit longer to leave than others. The underground… his home… They had so many memories, of a better time when he was with Gaster and Sans and Papyrus and they were all happy. He eventually came to terms with the fact that he had to leave it all behind. He put everything in boxes. The sweater stayed in a bag he would keep with him at all times.

The overworld was much the same, especially around the mountain. All quiet, quaint villages and acres upon acres of woodland. But humans had advanced since they had been underground, and they had larger cities and more advanced technology than Grillby remembered. After a bit of a rocky start, Frisk, King Asgore and Toriel were able to smooth things over, and humans and monsters began living together again. Peacefully.

At first, most monsters lived together in one of the communities closer to Mt. Ebott. As time went on, they spread out. Grillby opened Grillby’s 2.0 (he didn’t really call it that, it was just Grillby’s, but Sans like to call it that). Frisk stayed and lived with Toriel, who had an… interesting relationship with Sans. They seemed like they were more than just friends, but any mention of it to Sans caused him to flush a deep blue and quickly change the subject. Sans lived with Papyrus near her, so Frisk came and stayed with them often. Since Sans was still a frequent patron at the bar, he saw Frisk quite a lot. The young child was in school (where Toriel was a teacher), but after school, they would come with Sans for a short visit and an after school snack. The child referred to him as his fire uncle, and though Grillby would probably never admit it, he found it extremely endearing.

Frisk was an extremely quiet child. That wasn’t to say they couldn’t speak, but they had a tendency not to. So on one of the rare occasions where Frisk was left alone at the bar while Sans… did something (he wasn’t clear on what exactly he needed to tell the dog monster on the other side of the restaurant) it had surprised him when Frisk began speaking to him.

“He watches you.” Grillby had froze, and looked up to see Frisk staring directly at him.

“What…?” Grillby had momentarily forgotten that there was no way he could be heard over the noise of the restaurant.

“He knows you. He won’t tell me how. But he watches you. And he looks really sad.”

Sans had come back then, and Frisk hadn’t said anything else. He didn’t see the child for the next few days, and the words weighed heavily on his back. Their meaning was mysterious, lost to him. Who did Frisk mean? Who was watching him? He had so many questions and no answers. Talking to Frisk to ask them what they meant didn’t become imperative until Saturday night, when he pulled the photo from his vest after closing the restaurant. The black smudge where Gaster had been was clearer than he remembered. He could now see a firm pair of shoulders, and where his hand was holding Papyrus’s was completely clear. The rest of his body was slowly coming back into view. His face was nearly visible.

He didn’t care that it was late. He hurried it to Sans and Papyrus’s house. Frisk was staying the night with the two of them. Grillby had to talk with them; he had to know what they were talking about. It was cold and it was starting to rain, but he always had a small umbrella in his coat in case of emergency. Getting caught in the rain was not only painful, but potentially deadly for fire elementals. He remembered his mother telling him horror stories of one of her ancestors who had been pushed into a river and died as an imperative lesson to stay away from water. He learned quickly.

Papyrus answered the door, and expressed his surprise at seeing him there. “I’m sorry, I know it’s late, but I need to speak with Frisk,” he said, as loudly as he could. Even then, the hush of his voice was almost too soft to hear over the rain pattering on his umbrella. When Papyrus noticed this, he quickly invited him inside and out of the rain.

Sans and Frisk were on the couch watching a movie that had been paused, and there was an empty space where Grillby could only assume was where Papyrus had been sitting.

“hey yo, grillbz,” Sans said, waving a quick hand. “fancy seein’ you here.” Frisk waved as well, a smile on their face.

Grillby nodded in acknowledgment of his hello. At this distance, there was no way Sans could hear him. “GRILLBY SAYS HE WISHES TO SPEAK TO THE HUMAN,” Papyrus said helpfully. Frisk perked up at this.

“Privately,” Grillby clarifies.

“PRIVATELY,” Papyrus assists. The look that Sans gives him says that he is going to ask about it next time he’s at the bar, but Grillby couldn’t bother to care right now. His hand twitched in his pocket, where his fingers brushed the edge of the photo. 

Papyrus and Sans excuse themselves upstairs to their respective bedrooms, far enough away to where Grillby knows they won't hear. Especially with his quiet voice. Frisk is looking down at their lap, twiddling their thumbs and biting their lip. Grillby sits down on the couch beside them. "You're not in trouble, child," he says softly, and they look up at him. "I just have to ask you some questions. Is that okay?" 

Frisk nods. Grillby continues. 

"The man you said watched me. That knows me. Do you know his name?" Grillby could hardly believe he was... allowing himself to hope. 

"No," Frisk says, just as quietly as Grillby would talk normally. "I can't understand what he's saying." 

"What do you mean?" 

"He says stuff in a language I don't know. It sounds really weird." Grillby figured he shouldn't have hoped anything. "But when I go with Sans to see you, he always comes and stands behind you. He touched your hand one time. Did you know that?" 

Grillby touches the back of his hand subconsciously. "Yes, I felt it," Grillby confirms. 

"He watches you with this really sad look," Frisk says, repeating what they had said before. "Like he wants you to see him but you can't." 

But I do see him. I see him more and more now. He didn't tell Frisk that. Silence falls over them for a long stretch, neither saying anything. Then, Grillby reaches into his pocket and pulls out the photo. He hands it to Frisk; they take it into their hands. 

"Before monsters came to the underground, I had a very good friend," he says as Frisk's eyes widen. Their fingertips brushed delicately over the images of Sans and Papyrus, both children. Both free of all worry. "I loved him. And we were together for a long time. And he had two beautiful boys that I helped him raise. But then one day he disappeared. He died at work, mysteriously. No one remembered him. No one but me. That picture... That's the only one I have of him. And his image has been disappearing more and more since that day. That's the clearest I've seen it in years." 

"Was he...?" Frisk questions. 

"Sans and Papyrus's father? Yes, he was. But they don't remember him, either." Grillby sighs. It's hard to talk again, and his chest is tight. "He was the Royal Scientist before Dr. Alphys. His name was W. D. Gaster." Grillby looks down at the photo, at the faded face of the man he loved.

"Gaster?" Frisk repeated. "I've heard that name before." 

"You have?" 

"Yeah. When I was going to see the King I talked to these weird guys. They told me he was the Royal Scientist before Alphys, and that he died when he fell into his creation. That he had made the CORE and then disappeared. One of them said it was rude to talk about someone listening. They must have saw him, too... Hm, it must be him then." 

He fell into the CORE. Grillby went stiff with shock. Gaster had talked about the dangers of falling into the CORE once before it had been fully completed. He had said if someone fell in, they would probably be shattered across the space time continuum. Was that what had happened? Is that why everyone had forgotten? Did that mean that shadow, that man, was Gaster? Was he back? Had a piece of him found its way back to him? Back to real world instead of the Void?

He realized he hadn't said anything in quite a long time when he felt a small hand against the back of his. Frisk was calling him repeatedly, but he hadn't heard, and his hands had fisted into his slacks. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm... I..."

Grillby didn't know what to say. The tightness was preventing him from speaking, from thinking clearly. If he could cry, he would be right now, with no regard to his company. Frisk gave him back the picture and he took it so carefully, holding it in both hands and staring at it. 

Gaster was... alive, in a sense. He was out there. Somewhere. 

He was alive. 

Frisk hugs him around the middle tightly, short arms not quite reaching all the way. Grillby soon realizes the child is crying, their lip quivering. He doesn't mind the tears falling into his lap. He puts his arm around the child, tells them it's okay, that there's no need to cry. Frisk tells him their sorry that they can't tell what Gaster's saying. Grillby assures them it isn't their fault. 

"When you see him again," Grillby says hesitantly. "Tell him to come to the bar, after closing, okay? Will you do that for me?" 

"Of course I will," Frisk says, nodding. They’re wiping their tears as they speak. 

"And don't tell Sans and Papyrus anything about this, okay? I... I don't know what they would do if they remembered." 

"I promise, fire-uncle." Grillby smiles, and sends them to retrieve Sans and Papyrus from upstairs. 

Grillby wishes them a good night and apologizes for the sudden intrusion before he leaves. They say it's not a problem. He goes home. The rain has eased up. 

Once home, he takes the sweater from his bag and sits on his bed with it in his lap. 

"He's alive," he breathes to no one in particular. "He's alive, he's alive, he's alive…" 

He has good dreams that night.

Chapter Text

It was two days later when it happened. Sans had come in earlier and had asked what the deal was with Saturday, why the kid wouldn't tell him anything and why Grillby seemed more upbeat than usual. Grillby refused to answer him. Sans took his ketchup bottle. 

When he locked up, flipping the sign to closed and shutting the shades, he turned around to begin cleaning and that was when he saw it. 

Him. Saw him. 

He was in the darkest corner of the restaurant, near the juke box. That was their juke box. They had danced to countless songs on it in the past, once they had cleared away the tables and chairs in the underground. Grillby didn't care it was broken. It was too precious to him to get rid of. He knew one day he could find someone to fix it. He didn't care how much it cost. He would get it fixed. 

The dark figure was facing the juke box, and he wasn't so see through anymore. Grillby could see his hands, pale long fingers with strange holes in the palms, brushing over the buttons. 

"It's broken," he said as loud as he could manage. The figure jumped. "But I'm going to get it fixed. It means too much to me to throw away." He took careful steps forward. "Gaster? Is that you?" No response. No movement. He stopped walking once he was several feet away. "Can you hear me?" 

The figure lowered its hands to its side. The arms blended seamlessly with the rest of its black form. Then it turned, slowly. 

His face was much the same as it had been when Grillby first saw it out of the corner of his eye that first day. A wide dark frown replaced the ominous grin the face had previous sported, and contributed to the overall melancholy aura the figure had. Aside from two cracks, one going in either direction from either eye socket, his eyes looked the same. 

Grillby took more careful steps closer, until he was just another step away. He was still just as tall as he used to be.

"Gaster...?"

“Grillby,” the figure said, in the strange language Frisk must have been talking about. 

It didn't matter. Grillby understood Wing Dings perfectly. 

"Gaster, I... I'm..." He tried speaking, but it was to avail. He had so many things he wanted to say - I love you I missed you Where have you been What happened Our boys grew up to be so wonderful We're free now we're on the surface again  - that nothing came out at all. 

“I’m sorry… I fell… I-I was so scared Grillby…”

"Gaster can I... Can I touch you?" He didn't know if he was all there yet. He didn't know if he would phase right through, like trying to touch a ghost. When Gaster didn't answer, he placed a hand on his shoulder. It met something solid and cold. 

Grillby didn't want Gaster to be cold. If there was something Gaster hated, it was being cold. Before he died, that meant lots of cuddling and staying right at Grillby's side. Bone’s got cold easily. That was probably one reason Gaster had for wearing sweaters all the time. And staying so near to a monster made of fire. He felt hands placed at his sides, and Gaster came closer to him. Grillby wasted no time in putting his arms around his shoulders. His smell, the feel of him, had changed. It was colder, and weighed heavy with tragedy.

Neither of them moved for a very, very long time.

When they eventually talked, Gaster explained what had happened. It conformed to the information Grillby already had, and the suspicions that he had formulated. The center of the CORE had been opened, and he had been pushed down into the inside. When Grillby had heard this, he had become so angry that his flames flared up and began licking at the floors. When Gaster put a hand on his forearm, he quickly calmed down again, but he was still angry. Gaster had said there had been pain for only a moment, and then he had been scattered across the fabric of space and time.

He explained he could occasionally find pieces of himself in the dark code, and began fitting himself back together. It had taken a long time, and eventually, he found he was able to see scenes from the real world through the darkness. He was able to see Alphys in the lab, the woods of Snowdin, sometimes the living room of his home. And rarer still, the inside of Grillby’s.

When he eventually found a way into the real world again, he found himself in the Ruins just as Frisk was coming through. They had seen him, and had asked him if he was lost. And he had followed them out of the Ruins and eventually to the surface. Gaster confessed that he couldn’t stay in the real world for too long, especially not in a purely physical form like he was now just yet. He still didn’t have all the pieces put back together.

“I wish I could help you, Gaster…” Grillby mumbled, looking down at their hands. The holes were new. Gaster had explained that he’d gotten them when he fell into the CORE, as well as the cracks, before he disappeared. He held both his hands in between his, hoping to warm them. It wasn’t working, but Grillby didn’t bother to move them.

“You don’t need to apologize,” Gaster responds. “I’ll be fine soon enough. But I can’t stay here like this for too much longer. It’s too tiring.” Grillby didn’t want him to go, but he realized that he couldn’t force him to stay. “How are our boys, Grillby? Are they safe?”

“They are. They grew up to be wonderful, kind people.” Gaster smiled, and it was so nice to see it on his face again. He wouldn’t dare mention that they didn’t remember him, and neither did anyone else. He would let Gaster, and himself, live in this cloud of happiness and peace for a little while longer.

Just a little longer.

Grillby kissed him goodbye before he faded away.

Over the next few weeks, he saw Gaster more and more. He couldn’t come every day. It took him good amounts of energy to remain visible to anyone other than Frisk, who seemed to have a special perception for things within the Void. Grillby would spend this time with him filling him in on everything that had happened since he disappeared. How Alphys had become Royal Scientist, Papyrus adventure to become a member of the Royal Guard, Sans’s obsession with ketchup and the tab he had made for himself at the restaurant. (In all honesty, Grillby didn’t mind it. He honestly wasn’t even keeping track of how much money Sans owed him in ketchup. If Sans never paid his tab, that was perfectly okay with him).

He told him how proud he was of them. How strong they both had become, and how Papyrus hadn’t changed. He was still just as kind as he was when he was a child. Sans was still incredibly intelligent, even if he was just as lazy.

Grillby knew he would have to tell Gaster about how no one remembered him, but he kept putting it off each time they met with each other at the bar after closing. Eventually, he had to tell him.

Gaster hadn’t taken it well.

“I can only assume it was because you were ripped across space time,” Grillby thought. “But I don’t know anything about that kind of stuff. You were always the expert…”

“If they forgot about me… What happened to you?”

Grillby was surprised Gaster asked. “They forgot about me, too,” he admits, and he says it quietly. The fact that Sans and Papyrus didn’t remember the time they had been together, that they didn’t remember that Grillby had been another parental figure in their lives, hurt. “But I never stopped watching out for them. And I see Sans almost every day. He’s a regular. And he drinks all my ketchup.”

“I… I’m sorry Grillby…” Gaster says, resting his hand on the side of his face, making him look up from the floorboards and to him. “Everything will be okay soon. I promise I’ll fix it.”

Grillby trusted him. Of course he did.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t too much longer after that he had a special conversation with Sans. He had been at home after he had closed the restaurant, reading in his living room, when there was a knock at his door. It was Sans, and he looked more tired than usual. Grillby invited him in and offered him some tea.

It was long moments of tense silence before Sans began talking.

“i don’t know how to say all this,” he begins. “but i gotta ask you something. a lotta things.”

“Of course, Sans,” Grillby responds, already knowing what Sans was going to ask.

“i… i don’t remember when i was a kid all that well,” he continues. “i just remember bein’ alone with Paps a lot. but… recently i’ve been having nightmares. if you can call em that. things i’ve never seen before. a person i’ve never seen before. but… at the same time he’s familiar to me. and… and i think you’re there, too.” Sans looks pointedly at him. “do you know what i’m talking about?”

“I do.” Grillby stands up. “Wait here.” He goes into his foyer, into his closet, and reaches inside his coat pocket to take the photo out. “I’ve been waiting a long while to tell you. I didn’t want to approach you; I wanted you to come on your own.” He gives Sans the picture. “Neither you, nor your brother remembered. I didn’t think it was right to try and force the information on you.”

“is this…” Sans began, but didn’t finish.

“You and your brother, me, and your father.”

“b-but i didn’t have a dad…” Sans argues weakly, sounding like he didn’t totally believe it himself.

“You did.” Grillby notices Sans’s hands shaking. “His name was W. D. Gaster. He was the Royal Scientist before Dr. Alphys. He made the CORE.” Sans’s eyes were dark. Grillby didn’t know if he should continue. “He was a good father. He loved you and Papyrus both.”

“where… where did he go?” Sans voice was carefully neutral. Grillby couldn’t gain anything from him.

“It was an accident,” he lied. Sans didn’t need to be angry on top of whatever conflicting emotions he was already feeling. “He was working on the CORE and fell into it. He was shattered across space and time, and everyone forgot about him.”

“except you.”

“Except for me, yes.”

“why?”

Silence. This is part of the story Grillby didn’t know if he should share with the skeleton. He didn’t know how Sans would take the news. How would Sans feel if he knew that they had been together, and that Grillby had helped raise him, only to have forgotten? Right now, his reaction was unpredictable. “I was very good friends with your father,” he said, deciding to take the safe route. “We had known each other since we were both children. We were always close.”

“that’s bullshit.” Sans looked up at him, and Grillby was mildly alarmed to see that his left eye was glowing blue. That was something he hadn’t seen since Sans was young, and was first beginning to display his magic talent. His abilities were just like his fathers, right down to the blasters that Gaster had worked with him for years to perfect. “don’t you fuckin’ lie to me.”

Grillby sighed. Sans was hard to fool.

“We were a couple, Sans,” he breathes. “In fact, I was considering marrying him, before the accident happened.”

Sans blinked rapidly, his eyes fading to normal and his face tinging blue. “w-what?”

“We were. Your mother – I suspect you don’t remember her – died in the war, in the very beginning. Your father was very distraught, and I was there to comfort him. We were both called to join the Royal Guard as the war reached its peak. He hated that he had to leave you alone to take care of your brother as much as he did. But there was nothing he could do. Asgore wasn’t yet the King, though his father died shortly after our arrival to the Underground, and the previous King wasn’t a very… reasonable man. Your father and I used to sneak away from the rest of the troops to check on you both in the dead of night, just to make sure you were okay.”

Sans didn’t say anything, but Grillby noticed that his fingers were creasing the edge of the photo. He wanted to tell him to stop, but it didn’t feel necessary. Grillby continued.

“After your mother died, and the home your father lived in had been burned down, you three came to live with me with the rest of the elementals. The humans seemed incredibly wary of monsters made of fire, so they stayed away from us for the time being. A water elemental looked in on you from time to time. I liked her, even if she was made of water.”

He took Sans soft chuckle as a good sign.

“When the war eventually led to us being driven into the Underground, Asgore and Toriel became King and Queen, and we were able to leave the Royal Guard. We both settled in Snowdin, and Asgore gave him the job of the Royal Scientist after establishing New Home. You two often came to my home and I would babysit you. As a result, the two of you became very attached to me, and would spend the weekends sometimes as well to let your father rest after the stress of his work week. That never lasted too long, either. He couldn’t be separated from the two of you for long. The more time we spent together, the closer we got, and eventually, we began dating one another. We were happy. You two were happy. And then…”

“then he fell…”

“Yes. He fell. I could feel it in my Soul, and what more, when I went to find you two, you didn’t remember him. Neither did any of his coworkers… not even Asgore, who was one of the few people Gaster called his friend. I soon found that no one in Snowdin did. That picture was the only one of all of us. As the years passed, his image began fading. I was afraid it would fade away completely, and when it did, my memories of him would go, too. But it didn’t happen, and since we got to the surface, it’s been coming back. Just like your memories, it seems.”

“why do you think that is?”

“I have a theory… But I’ll tell you soon. It’s rather late, and you need to get home. Come to the restaurant in two days, after closing, alright?”

“sure, grillbz.” Sans shook off the tension that had settled on his shoulders, handing the picture back to him.

“Keep it,” Grillby said, pushing his hand back. “He was your father.”

“but you’ve had it for so long…” Sans argued, looking back at it. “i wouldn’t want to take it away from you.”

“It will mean more to you, soon enough,” Grillby returned, walking Sans to the door. “Just promise me you’ll keep it safe.”

“i will, grillbz. promise.” Sans paused before he left, standing in the open doorway. Grillby was just about to ask what was wrong when Sans turned and suddenly had his arms around Grillby’s waist. It shocked the elemental into silence. “you were our dad too, grillbz,” he says softly.

Grillby can’t respond before Sans leaves, closing the door behind him. The elemental was left alone, the air heavy with memories and tasting of reconciliation.

Chapter Text

As intent as he was to tell Sans that his father, that Gaster was back, he needed to talk to Gaster first. He knew he would see him the next day after closing, and he would have to ensure that Gaster could come the next day as well. He didn’t know if Sans would necessarily believe him unless he saw some proof, and Grillby didn’t have any proof other than the man himself.

Gaster was less translucent than the last time Grillby had seen him, and he said it was because he found another piece of himself. That was wonderful news. They could only assume that once Gaster found all the pieces of himself, he would be able to come back fully. Or so they hoped.

“As much as I love spending time with you, I don’t want you to exhaust yourself today,” Grillby said. “There’s someone coming to see you tomorrow.”

The surprise on Gaster’s face was evident. “Someone’s coming to see me?”

Grillby nodded. “Sans is coming here tomorrow.” He continues, even when the surprise turns to pure shock and excitement and something a little sad. “He came to me last night, saying he was having dreams of you, even if he didn’t quite recognize you fully. I told him about his mother and the war, about us… I told him everything, except that you’re back. I told him to come tomorrow so he can see you, and you two can talk, but he doesn’t know.”

“His memories are coming back,” Gaster murmurs, and he looks as if he’s ready to cry.

“They are,” Grillby confirms, rubbing Gaster’s shoulder comfortingly. “And I believe, with time, so will Papyrus’s.” Gaster lowers his face, and Grillby pulls him into his shoulder, his arms around him.

“They’re remembering me…” Gaster whispers, and it definitely sounds like he’s crying. “They’re going to remember me…”

Grillby responds with a comforting silence and a reassuring squeeze. Gaster leaves soon after. Grillby tells him to wait a while before coming tomorrow, just so Sans wouldn’t die of shock, and Grillby could explain some things. Gaster agreed wholeheartedly.

When closing came around the next day, he left the door unlocked for Sans, and went to the bar to pour a drink for himself. The bell ringing softly at the door alerted him to the skeletons’ arrival. “hey grillbz,” Sans chuckles, coming to sit at the bar. Grillby hands him a fresh bottle of ketchup.

“aw, for me?”

“On the house,” he says, purely as a joke, and Sans laughs.

“you’re on fire today, grillbz.” Grillby doesn’t even dignify it with a sigh of exasperation. “so, what’s your theory then? on why all this is happening?”

“Well, I can’t really explain it all by myself,” Grillby replies, leaning against the bar. He feels more than sees Gaster fade in, as if on que. He finds that his love is staring at Sans, and wishes he were able to read minds. He would love to know what Gaster was thinking at this moment. He hasn’t seen his oldest son in eighteen years, and during those years, Sans had changed a lot. When he was younger, his tendency to put off his school work (despite his interest in science) and his joking attitude had led Gaster to worry that Sans wouldn’t take his future seriously. Grillby believed that wouldn’t be the case, and he was right. Even if Sans was laid back, he took the right things seriously. “And plus, I know you have to see to believe.”

Gaster came into a more full form, pulling himself as far as he could outside of the Void and as close as he could bring himself to the real world. He was tapping the tips of his fingers together; it was his nervous habit. His presence led Sans to take notice of him, and the skeleton turned around, locking eyes with his father.

And nothing was said, and neither of them moved, for a quiet, nervous stretch. That was, until Gaster spoke. “Sans…” Grillby could tell he wanted to say so much more, but there was no correct order in saying them. That seemed to be a common occurrence in their little dysfunctional family.

He actually jumped a bit when he heard the ketchup bottle hit the ground. As much as he would like to admit that he didn’t, he wouldn’t lie. He had been so absorbed in the silence that the sudden bang and movement caught him off guard. Additionally, the barstool had fallen over when Sans had gotten up. He had moved so fast Grillby hadn’t even seen it, and he was now where Gaster was, he arms wrapped around the dark figure.

“The reason your memories are coming back is because Gaster’s back.”

Grillby didn’t know how long the two of them stayed like that, but at some point he figured out that Sans had been crying the whole time. Sans never cried. When he was young, every time he would hurt himself he would just grin and bear it. Other than his jokes and constant puns, he was a very quiet child. This was a drastic comparison to his brother, who was talkative and cried easily. Grillby eventually went over and placed his hand on Sans’s back, rubbing at his backbone in a comforting way.

He supposed it was a little overwhelming, all of this. It was easier for him to accept all of this because he had remembered Gaster throughout the eighteen years they were apart. Sans was just in the beginning stages of remembering, and even if Grillby had filled him in, seeing his father and having all his memories returned suddenly would certainly be difficult.

When Sans had asked what happened, where had he been, Gaster had told him exactly what he had told Grillby, but he left out the fact that he was pushed, just like Grillby had done. Sparing Sans from that information was definitely the best, for now at least.

After all had been explained and Gaster had expressed how much he had missed both of his sons, Sans had chuckled and wiped at his eyes. Grillby knew he was alright when, while looking pointedly at him, he said, “this was such a heartwarming reunion.”

Sans looked awfully proud of himself. Grillby sighed. Gaster laughed.

It was so nice to hear him laugh.

He’d forgotten his umbrella.

Of course he had.

That morning, when Grillby had arrived at the restaurant, he had noticed that it wasn’t in its usual place in his coat pocket. There was nothing but blue sky and wispy clouds, a slight breeze, but it didn’t seem that it would rain before he was able to get home later. So it wasn’t that big of a deal, right?

He was wrong.

By midday, the wind had picked up quite a bit, and dark clouds were now blocking the sun. By closing time, it was pouring rain, and the wind was ‘near hurricane force’, said one of his human customers. He didn’t know what a hurricane was, but, from context, it must be something rather impressive. So when he locked the doors, he prepared himself to stay there quite a while.

After he had cleaned up, he moved the barstools and sat on the floor, back up against the bar, watching the rain beat against the glass windows of the doors. The dampness in the air and the blue tint that perpetrated the restaurant reminded him oddly of Waterfall. He, on occasion, would go to Waterfall and visit Shyren. He enjoyed listening to her singing, even if Waterfall was a somewhat dangerous for him to go to.

He was so entranced by the rain – it was beautiful, even if it was lethal – that he didn’t notice Gaster arrive until he spoke. “What are you thinking about?” He looked up just as Gaster was coming to sit beside him. He looked so much like himself again that Grillby was actually surprised. He was less of a black form and more of the skeleton Grillby used to know.

“I was just thinking of Waterfall,” Grillby said, as Gaster pressed his shoulder against his. Grillby reached over and took his hand, resting them on his thigh. “Remember how I used to visit Shyren on occasion and listen to her sing? It was nice. I wonder how she’s doing nowadays.” Grillby knew she was Mettaton’s backup singer, but he hadn’t talked to her since they left the Underground. He hoped she was happy.

“I remember,” Gaster said. There was a flash of lightning and thunder rolled heavily for a long while. “I don’t remember storms like this when we were on the surface before, though.”

“Neither do I.” As tired as he was, and as much as he wanted to go home, he wouldn’t miss an opportunity to spend time with Gaster for the world. They had reached a point where their meetings were less talking, and more comfortable silences in close quarters with one another. Gaster was continually finding more pieces of himself scattered across the Void, and could spend more and more time in the real world. And every time he was here, he looked more and more like his old self, and less like the black void that his body used to be. The cracks were still there, and so were the holes in his palms, but Gaster doubted they would ever go away. That was perfectly fine. Grillby found himself quite enthralled with tracing the edges of his damaged palm in the quiet moments they lingered in.

“Have you heard anything from Papyrus recently?” Gaster asked quietly, and Grillby could hear the underlying apprehension in his words. He wanted to see his youngest son just as badly as he had wanted to see Sans, but, just as he had with Sans, he wanted Papyrus to begin remembering on his own at first, little by little.

“Not in the past few days.” Papyrus was a police officer now. Well, sort of. He didn’t go on dangerous missions or anything, like Undyne did. He was a security guard at Frisk’s school. He would go with Frisk and Toriel every morning to school, and would stay later in the day to lock up the entire school building. His favorite part of his job was that he got to interact with all the kids. He’d said this time and time again. The younger kids would cackle when he would put them up on his shoulders like they wanted, and they would tower over everyone else. The older ones would beg him to play basketball with them. It seemed Papyrus had found a new talent in basketball, even if it was marginally unfair playing against fifth graders due to the height difference. And of course, he was dating Mettaton, and when the robot visited, teachers and students alike would fall all over him. It wasn’t every day that a celebrity visited an elementary school, after all.

Gaster just hummed, but said nothing else. Grillby would have to make a point to find Papyrus and talk to him tomorrow. The way Gaster moved closer to him didn’t go unnoticed, but Grillby didn’t comment on it. He let go of Gaster’s hand, putting it over his shoulders and drawing him close, their free hands interlinking over Grillby’s leg.

“I love you, Grillby,” Gaster whispered over the wind, rain and thunder. It didn’t seem like the storm would let up anytime soon. It seemed like Grillby would be spending much of the night at the restaurant.

Grillby rubbed his thumb against the back of Gaster’s hand, leaning over to nuzzle into Gaster’s cheekbone. “I love you too, honey.”

Gaster burst out laughing at that, his face flushing purple. “You haven’t called me that in… forever.” It was true. He had first started calling Gaster that as a joke, purely because he enjoyed copious amounts of honey in his tea, to the point it was almost sickeningly sweet. He hadn’t called Gaster that since even before the CORE was created.

He didn’t respond, just settled in against Gaster and prepared for a long night.

At some point, he had fallen asleep. When he woke up, he had a blanket that had come from nowhere, and had been laid over him. It was just after one in the morning. The rain had stopped, and, even though it was chilly outside, the clouds were gone. The indigo sky was splattered with stars, stars that Grillby sometimes found himself staring at for hours. The stars were something he only faintly remembered from before the war. Before, he hadn’t ever thought that he would be trapped underground, where the stars weren’t visible. He was surprised to find that he had quite missed the stars.

He made his way home and went to bed, wrapped up in nothing but the blanket that smelled of fire and dust.

Chapter Text

Grillby ended up having to wait until the weekend to talk to Papyrus. It had been a long time since he had talked to his son Sans’s younger brother – ever since he had gone to their home to speak to Frisk – and hadn’t seen him since then. It wasn’t that he didn’t know what Papyrus was up to, and how he had been, because Papyrus was all Sans used to talk about. Not to say that he didn’t continue to talk about his brother and his accomplishments. He grew more proud of his brother as the days progressed, which Grillby found rather impressive. He wondered how far this pride would grow.

As much as Papyrus loved spaghetti, since he came to the human world, he found himself growing quite obsessed with something else. Sans had said Papyrus had tried to make one at home, but had ended up burning it. Grillby couldn’t blame him. He had heard that cinnamon rolls were a little technical to make. Anything that required baking was more technical than something like spaghetti. But near the school, the shopkeeper from Snowdin – a rabbit woman named Abbey – had opened a bakery. Everyone had loved her Cinnamon Bunnies, and monsters would come to personally asked her to make cakes and pasties for special occasions. Papyrus loved her Cinnamon Bunnies, and went there after work once a week to have one.

So Grillby invited Papyrus to come to her bakery on Saturday. He had closed the restaurant early, in the mid-afternoon, but that was fine, because it had been a slow Saturday to begin with. Papyrus was already there when he arrived, talking to Abbey over the counter. She was laughing at something he had said. He was smiling. He looked just as happy as always. Papyrus’s happiness had been one of the things Grillby had always wished for. He had hoped and prayed that the younger skeleton would grow up and stay the happy, energetic and caring child he had been. Grillby would feel that he had failed as a father if his happiness had been crushed by the world.

“Hello, Grillby,” he heard, and looked up to see that Abbey had noticed him in the doorway of the bakery. It smelled like vanilla and cinnamon, and it was warm and felt more like a home than a shop. “It’s been such a long time since I’ve seen you. How has the overground been treating you?”

“Very well, except for the rain,” he comments as he comes to the case full of various pastries and cakes. “It’s much worse than the dampness of Waterfall, at times. But I am adjusting, of course. How have you been, Abbey?”

“Who am I to complain? Business is booming, and my kids love their new friends.” She smiled and crossed her arms. “My family’s happy, and things are looking awfully bright. Papyrus here was telling me about how the school has implemented new classes for the history of Monsterkind that they’re having Toriel teach.”

“The human children seem to enjoy it very much,” Papyrus chimed in. “And they love having Toriel as their teacher.”

“Toriel is very passionate about educating children,” Grillby says. “It is no surprise she would be a good one.”

Papyrus got a cinnamon bunny from Abbey. She gave it to him on the house, even though he was insistent on paying her for it, but Abbey was far more stubborn than Papyrus could ever be. Abbey would later tell Grillby that she was quite fond of Papyrus, and had been keeping a watchful eye over him since he was young. Abbey’s oldest son had gone to school with him back in the underground so many years ago, and had been just another child that had found Papyrus an easy target for a quick prank or cruel joke. When she had learned this, she had set her son straight, forcing him to apologize. Ever since then, she had kept a close eye on the young skeleton. She commented that he had felt like a young nephew to her. Grillby would later thank her for her watchful eye, and her motherly kindness towards him.

Grillby and Papyrus went to sit in a booth against the window, where the sunlight came in and draped over the table and made the warmth of the bakery physical. At this time of day, it was largely empty and rather quiet, save for a few older human patrons that seemed much more interested in their conversations or newspapers than in two monsters in a booth against the window, even one made of fire.

They made small talk. Mainly Grillby asking how Papyrus had been, and Papyrus giving him long stories of adventures and misadventures at the school and in the overground. He told him a story of a child that had fallen and broken their arm at recess (Papyrus had been rather distraught over this part), but had come back a day later with a massive white cast they had all their friends sign. They had wanted Papyrus signature, too. Grillby listened as he talked about Undyne and Alphys, and how the two of them had been. Papyrus had said that when Undyne had first gone to the police academy, many people had doubted her strength and tenacity. They were soon proved very wrong. Papyrus said he was proud of her. Grillby had smiled.

Papyrus talked about Mettaton and his new band. He said that Napstablook and Shyren had gained so much more confidence in themselves since coming to the human world, and Grillby told him to give Shyren his best wishes. He said that Mettaton wanted him to come live in his house, with him, but Papyrus had said he would have to think about that. After all, who would look after Sans if he was gone? When Grillby asked about Sans and Toriel, Papyrus had said that Sans didn’t want to talk about such things. He would become rather flustered and quickly change the subject.

Grillby would have to talk to Sans about that.

They had been there quite a while when the conversation died down a bit. Grillby decided it would be best to stop skirting around the true reason for this meeting, and to go ahead and ask his questions. He took a sip of his coffee. It was cold. Oh well.

“What do you remember from when you were young, Papyrus? Younger than Frisk?” he asked, watching as a mother, father and their daughter walked by the bakery, all of them hand in hand. They looked happy. Grillby wished happiness upon them.

Papyrus seemed confused by the question. “What do you mean specifically?”

“Do you remember school? And being at home? Do you remember any of that?” Papyrus still seemed confused, but he answered nonetheless.

“I remember school, yes,” he said, a lot softer than he would normally speak. A lot less lively and energetic. Grillby didn’t like that. “I remember how some of the kids would pick on me, but I never had to worry because Sans would always take care of them. He always promised me he didn’t hurt them, just made them apologize. I remember my teacher. She was impressed by how much faster I learned how to read and would have me read to everyone else.” Papyrus looked out the window, out at the blue sky and the sun and the trees. “I remember Sans coming to get me and take me home, and we would end up having snowball fights with…”

Papyrus trails off and falls silent for several moments. Grillby looks over at him, finding that he has a troubled look on his face. Grillby can gather why. He remembers these snowball fights well. He was never an active participant (snow melted into water at his touch, and water burned him like acid), but he would watch as Gaster and his sons would play together, often times with the Royal Scientist being overthrown by the brothers. It was always entertaining, and it was one of two ways to liven Papyrus’s spirits if he ever had a particularly rough day at school. The second, of course, was spaghetti for dinner.

“With who?” Grillby prompted gently. Hopefully. At this, Papyrus laughed nervously.

“With each other, of course! He’d always let me win, though. I would sometimes get mad that he let me win, but he promised me that he was actually trying.” His hope dwindled. Give it time, he told himself. Papyrus was young when the accident happened. It may take him longer to remember.

“Have you had any strange dreams recently, Papyrus?” he asked next. “Or felt like you’re forgetting something?”

“Sans was telling me a while ago he was feeling that way, but I haven’t. Why? Have you been feeling like that, too?”

“Ah, just a little,” Grillby lied quickly. Best to diffuse the stressful situation. Papyrus didn’t remember anything quite yet. It was best not to pressure him into trying, or thinking too hard on the subject of forgotten things. “Maybe it’s just a bit of nostalgia. I find myself missing the underground at times.”

“But it’s so nice here! We have the sun, and the stars and so many flowers!” And with that, the topic moved onto much more light hearted subjects, such as how friendly bees were, and how much Frisk enjoyed going to the park to play with other children after school or during the weekends.

It was nice here, Grillby had to agree. It was unfamiliar and challenging, but it was nice. And overall, most humans had been very open to their reappearance on the surface, and had been willing to assist them in integrating into human society. With Frisk, who was only nine years old, acting as an ambassador between humankind and monsterkind, things were going unbelievably smoothly.

There were still some, of course, that were much less welcoming. There were a few occasions of trashed businesses, with the windows broken out and spray painted words in angry red on the walls. Grillby was lucky it hadn’t happened to him, but others hadn’t been so fortunate. Luckily, there had been no physical violence, and nothing that couldn’t be repaired.

This wasn’t to say that Grillby hadn’t encountered his fair share of these types of people. They seemed to find him on weekend nights, when he was on his way home and the bar had been closed, their breath reeking of alcohol. They were much to uncoordinated to do anything more than hurl half formed words at him, before vomiting on their own shoes. Grillby never let it bother him.

He supposed he had been silent a little too long – longer than his usual stretches – because Papyrus eventually asked him if he was alright. Even after he spent a good while assuring Papyrus he was perfectly fine, he wasn’t completely sure he’d managed to convince him. Whenever he bid Papyrus a farewell, he told him to tell Toriel and Frisk he said hello.

Papyrus promised he would, and before they departed, Papyrus had swept Grillby up in his arms. There weren’t very many people – monsters or humans – that could lift Grillby in such a way that removed his feet from the ground, but Papyrus certainly could. (There weren’t very many monsters that were taller than Grillby – King Asgore and Toriel, certainly – but otherwise, only a few came close, like Gaster and Papyrus). Papyrus made him promise to take care of himself, and to not work too hard.

Since when had the child begun worrying for his parent’s health? That was just how Papyrus was, he supposed, even if Grillby was much older – and wiser – than him. “Of course, Papyrus,” he promised. “Take care of yourself. And your brother.”

He wished he could keep them safe, from even the smallest of things.

His journey back home would have been rather short if he hadn’t decided to take a detour through the park. It was late in the afternoon, so many families and their pets were making use of the park and its wide expanse of land. A few dogs sniffed at him curiously as he walked by, and a few of their owners apologized if he was disturbed by them. He wasn’t, of course, but he appreciated their concern. A group of children came up to him to ask if they could get burned if they touched his hand. He told them they would be perfectly fine, and even held out his hand for them to try. After a few moments of daring each other, a young girl finally pressed her fingers into his palm, announcing to her friends that it was fine.

It only occurred to him later that they thought they would get hurt, and therefore they were afraid of him.

Eventually, Grillby found himself reflecting on the war. This was why elementals were largely left alone, even during the height of the war, because humans were afraid of them – especially the fire elementals, even though there were very few of them, even before the war. (It seemed whatever created life for monsters had a particularly difficult time creating creatures made from elements). However powerful humans became, they were still at the mercy of their environment. Whether it be raging flames or rushing water, there was only so much they could do to cope.

No monster ever talked about what they did during the war. Whether they were in charge of protecting children or looking for survivors after attacks – or the things that were worse, the things that were darker.

The worst part of it all is that Grillby could remember the faces of the humans he had killed. He could remember the terror, the anger, or the occasional defiance in their eyes before he killed them. He hadn’t wanted to kill anyone – he spared everyone he could – but when they got close to endangering his Gaster’s boys, he knew what had to be done.

He supposed he was happy that they left the elementals alone. His home was where Sans and Papyrus were – they had been so young then, where had the time gone? – and so long as the humans stayed away, they were safe. Sans was only six when Papyrus was born, but he was gifted with his father’s intelligence and maturity. (Papyrus inherited his mother’s nurturing nature, her kindness, and, unfortunately, her cooking skills — Gaster was always the better cook). At only six, taking care of his newborn brother with very little help, when his mother had recently died, and his father and future caretaker were fighting for their entire race.

God, he was so damn proud of his son.

And when he saw Sans again, Grillby hugged him and told him so.

Chapter Text

Grillby had never seen so much fire in his life.

Yes, he was a fire elemental, and it had taken him some time to control his flames. But even with the few times he had caught the curtains, the amount of fire he was seeing in this moment paled in comparison.

The night Gaster’s home had burned down, Grillby was able to see the flames raging in the distance. He could see the red and orange light painting the indigo sky, and his heart had leapt to his throat. He was more than aware of the rising tensions between humans and monsters, and had a sinking suspicion as to what this meant. He had alerted the other elementals, especially the water elementals – one was named Lina, and she was fond of Sans and Papyrus. It had taken longer than he would have liked to get down to the village below his, where Gaster lived. He had forgotten to throw on his shoes, and the dew on the grass stung at his soles, but it was easy to ignore. Panic and fear had made his chest glow white and the palms of his hands turn blue.

It had been easy to prevent the fire from spreading, and Lina and the other water elementals did their best to put out the flames that were there. He had ran past the first few, sweeping fire away as he ran, heading further into the village until he arrived to Gaster’s home.

It was engulfed in flames, and Sans was holding Papyrus, looking up at his home with tears in his eyes.

“Where’s your father?” Grillby asked, having to scream above the raging of the flames. Sans couldn’t speak, but his eyes flashed into the burning home. Lina had followed him, and had already begun working to subdue the inferno.

Grillby hadn’t thought about it. He had ran inside. Water had raked down his back and burned him like acid (he still has the scar, the purple discoloration in his flames, left behind). He had called for Gaster, but there had never been an answer. It was only hearing the sound of footsteps and something falling upstairs that made him go up there, leaping over broken stairs.

Gaster was at the end of the hall, trying to pull fallen wood away from the door, calling his wife’s name. He was exhausted, face smeared with ash and obviously having a hard time breathing. He was about ready to collapse, Grillby could tell, and he could hear the groaning of the support beams in the roof. He had to get Gaster out.

He had to get Gaster out.

He had to save Gaster.

It hadn’t even taken him a second to wrap his arms around Gaster’s waist, jumping over the balcony to land on the stairs. They fell out underneath him, but he had already been bounding to the door. Gaster coughed and fought weakly against his grip.

He unceremoniously dumped Gaster outside by his sons – Papyrus was wailing, and though Sans was trying to calm him down, he was crying as well – and had gone back inside, running through the flames to make it to the other side of the hallway.

He had only found ash.

Gaster had been subdued for weeks afterwards. Grillby took care of Sans and Papyrus on his own – he had no point of reference for taking care of the baby bones, but he did his best, and Lina had helped him a lot – and had tried to juggle taking care of Gaster as well. Grillby hadn’t realized at the time, but Gaster had been injured when he tried to go back for his wife. A crack was across one of the bones in his arm. Grillby had bandaged him up, of course, even though Gaster hadn’t said it hurt or reacted at all. It concerned him, more than he wanted to admit, but Gaster eventually recovered. Sans and Papyrus began playing with other children; began going to their friends’ houses for sleep overs. Their broken family began healing.

And then the Royal Guard came. The war was escalating, and with humans claiming more and more lives every day, the king needed soldiers.

Gaster and Grillby were placed in the same squadron, since they were recruited at the same time. They were each given armor, and Grillby had a specially made sword forged for him. He didn’t feel honored then, and he certainly didn’t feel it in present day. They were given rudimentary training, and they were both placed under the authority of the Royal Guard Commander. The first battle Grillby was a part of wasn’t long after he was drafted. He remembered being afraid of what he was going to have to face, of what he would have to do.

He hadn’t wanted to kill anyone. But the first time he was confronted by a human soldier – he was an older man, who hadn’t shaved in a while, and he smelled of iron and something bitter – he had done what he had to do to survive. He did what he had to in order to live. But he’ll never forget how giving human flesh was when it met the edge of unyielding steel. He’ll never forget listening to the man cough and sputter, blood flecking off of his lips, his body hitting the ground as Grillby pulled his sword free from the man’s body.

He’ll never forget the curse that came from the man’s mouth, directed his way as he died.

I’m sorry, he wanted to say. I have people I need to take care of. People that need me to live.

But he couldn’t. Because that man could have probably said the same thing.

Sans was always an incredibly perceptive child. When Grillby and Gaster had first left their squadrons to go back home, to be able to visit Sans and Papyrus at night, Sans would always be the one to ask if they were feeling alright. They were both happy to see their caretaker and their father, but Sans knew that the war was taking its toll on them, even in his young age.

Sometimes there would be nights where Grillby knew they had to be back before sunrise, that their group was moving to counter the human advancing lines. They had to be there to rouse the rest of the troops and be ready for line up before they moved out. But when Gaster falls asleep with Sans and Papyrus on either side of him, his arms holding them close, he wanted to give them as much time together as he was able. Besides, Gaster could teleport them to the camp if time ran too short.

Gaster always missed his sons, Grillby could tell, even when he was cracking puns and making the other monsters of their squadron laugh. (There had been some times when four or five of them were under cover from human fire and Gaster had still made the ones they were with laugh, even just a little). When it was their turn to be on watch, on the nights it was their rotation and they weren’t able to go home, Gaster would wonder aloud to Grillby whether or not Sans and Papyrus were awake and waiting for them to come home and tell them goodnight. Grillby would always assure him that they would be just fine, and they would just have to be sure to see them the next night.

The entire war only lasted for roughly eight months. Grillby and Gaster had been recruited just after the three month mark, when monsters had moved past the Royal Guard, and had developed their own military. Still, the amount of monsters that had died to a human’s blade was too many to count. Grillby couldn’t remember how many of his friends he had mourned, how many he had watched die as they ran beside him into combat.

Death was never easy, and Gaster said that he felt as if it was his fault they had died. If I had been more attentive, he recalled Gaster saying. They wouldn’t be dead. They’d be able to go to their homes, like we do. It made Grillby recall the first human he had killed, how much he wanted to say he was sorry, but it wouldn’t have mattered. Not many humans had died anyway, and other humans had come to take their bodies home. That was something that always interested Gaster. When humans died, why did their bodies remain?

Grillby didn’t know, and Gaster never got the chance to study the reason why.

He realized that he had been staring a little too long in one place when he heard Sans’s voice, saying his name and trying to gain his attention. Grillby would readily admit that he was spacy today. It was hard to focus on even the simplest of tasks. Even the mindless task of cleaning glasses took too much concentration, and the glass had been sitting in his hand for a few minutes now.

When he looked up, he saw Sans’s eyes on him, his ever present smile now a frown of concern. “you alright, grillbz?” Sans asked. “you ain’t lookin so hot today.”

Those puns… they reminded Grillby of Gaster so much.

“I’m fine, Sans,” he said, his voice just a breath in the crowded establishment. Sans was able to hear him from this close, but just barely. “I’m just… reminiscing.”

“’bout what?” Sans took another swig of ketchup. Grillby actually went ahead and gave him another. He had tried to break Sans’ addiction to the condiment long ago, when he was young, but it hadn’t gone well, and both he and Gaster had given up trying. They’d thought, with age, he may grow out of it, but…

Grillby almost didn’t want to tell Sans ‘about what’, but he promised that he would always be honest with his boys, even when the truth was hard to say and came up like acid and felt like salt in open wounds. “The war,” he finally said, watching as some humans came in and met up with a group of monsters. It was nice to see them getting along so well, especially considering the things that had been on his mind the past few hours. “Being on the front lines, seeing everything that I saw… And now, being on the surface again in relative peace, it’s…” He trails off, taking a deep, whispering breath. “Right now, it feels so surreal.”

And it was. It really was. And Sans knew that. So Sans just put his hand on Grillby’s arm, squeezing the fire there lightly and letting his fingers dig into the flame just a bit. Sans wasn’t that good at comforting people, or so he told everyone; that was always something Papyrus was the best at, and Sans could only tell some jokes to try and distract whoever it was from the stressful or sad situation they were facing. Grillby didn’t care a bit. Sans had his own way of doing things, and he and Papyrus were so different it was hard to believe they were really brothers. Grillby smiled, and put his hand over top of Sans’s in a silent thank you.

Gaster always worried that his boys would grow up hating humans and being bitter about the death of their mother. He worried that they would be spiteful and angry. That’s why Gaster encouraged Sans and Papyrus to follow whatever they were passionate about, whether it was drinking ketchup or wanting to be in the Royal Guard. Instead of teaching bitterness and hatred, he fostered the ideals of humility and kindness, of patience and good will. Gaster was concerned about Papyrus’s desire to be in the Royal Guard, though. Papyrus was too kind and naïve to be a soldier, and didn’t think the outcome would be good if he should ever confront a human.

It made Grillby wonder what would have happened if Gaster had never fell into the Core. If he had met Grillby at the door of the restaurant that night instead of disappearing. How would Sans and Papyrus have changed? How would he have changed? Gaster was the most brilliant scientist monsters had ever seen. His creation of the Core had brought energy that monsters in the underground desperately needed. What else would he have come up with if he had lived? (Grillby wondered if they would have been able to find a way to leave the underground without having to kill all the human children that had fallen…)

But this type of thinking was just speculation, just what ifs. “If you dwell in the past, you’ll never be able to move forward,” he recalled Gaster saying once. He had to be sure he remembered his lover’s wise words.

He squeezed Sans’s hand a bit tighter, and returned his smile.

Chapter Text

Sometimes Grillby did get sick. It didn’t happen very often, but it did, on occasion, and it was never terrible. It just kept him feeling exhausted and under the weather, and prevented him from being on his feet for twelve hours a day, six days a week. In the underground, it was easier to close up for the day. His customers were regulars that he was good friends with, and they weren’t angry or upset that the restaurant was closed for the day when it normally wasn’t.

On the surface, his restaurant wasn’t just somewhere for only monsters to go. Humans frequented the place as well. In fact, it had gotten so busy that some days he wasn’t sure he was able to keep up with demand. Some monsters had joked that he should hire someone to help him cook or bus tables, but who?

He wouldn’t forget the first time a group of humans came into the restaurant. It was a young married couple with their three year old daughter. They were passing through the area and had asked some locals (monsters) about a good place to go for lunch, and had come rather late in the day. It had surprised everyone when they entered, but they were welcomed regardless. The three year old – her name was Anna – was fascinated by the fact he was made of fire. When he had come to ask them what they wanted, Grillby could tell she wanted to touch his hand, but was fearful of the outcome.

Since it was nearing two in the afternoon, there weren’t very many people in the restaurant, so she was able to hear him when he told her it was okay. With a glance at her parents – Abbey and Joseph – she placed her tiny hand against his palm, and giggles at the fact that it didn’t hurt her. Her parents gave the two of them a warm smile. She had hugged him before they left, and he didn’t see them again. Ever since then, more humans had come and gone, and many of them had stayed.

On Sunday, his restaurant was closed for the day, and Grillby wondered if he would have to keep it closed on Monday as well. He didn’t burn as hot today, and he guessed that it was due to the fact that it had been incredibly cloudy for the past month. Not that it had been raining, but the sun had remained hidden behind thick blankets of clouds for longer than he was comfortable with. Without the sun for too long, especially after he had gotten used to its presence again, he became weak and tired.

When he first gotten to the underground, being without the sun had made him incredibly ill for a long time, and it had taken him some time to recover. He barely remembered the days he was sick, but he knew that it must have been terrible, because when he had recovered enough, Gaster told him he was afraid he would die.

Grillby had known this was coming. He had felt himself grow weaker and more exhausted as the days wore on. It had been a stretch to get to closing time on Saturday night, and he hadn’t even taken off his shoes when he finally got to his bed later on. And now, here he was, with a raging headache and feeling cold and tired even though he could barely fall asleep. Sleeping had been spotty last night. He would be able to sleep for an hour or so, only to wake up with his scar hurting and his temples pounding.

(It was hard to deal with alone.)

It was late in the morning when he forced himself out of bed and took Gaster’s sweater from his closet. It had become a safety blanket of his, and made him feel better, regardless of the situation he was in. Gaster’s smell had long faded, and it was the main source of his comfort, but the soft cotton of the sweater was the next best thing. He buried his face into the collar and took deep, steadying breaths in an attempt to fall back asleep.

It was midday when he woke up again, this time with a sharp pain going from the back of his neck up to his temples. He squeezed his eyes tightly, groaning. He just wanted to sleep, damn it. It just made it worse that he was still cold and his shoes were…

There was a weight on top of him that he wasn’t familiar with, and when he opened his eyes to see what it was, he found the quilt normally over the back of his couch covering him. How had it gotten there from downstairs? Grillby didn’t remember going down there and getting it, and doubted he was even able to get down the stairs in one piece, let alone back up them. What more is that he wasn’t wearing his shoes anymore; he could easily feel his sheets against his feet. Surely he hadn’t –

His thought process was immediately interrupted when he felt a soft hand on his shoulder. Panic seized his heart, even if he was too out of it to properly defend himself. He was too tired, and his head hurt too much to make sense of anything that was going on. But when he turned just enough to see the hand on his shoulder, he found bones, skeletal fingers and a hole in the palm.

Gaster.

And it was. He hadn’t seen him in a while, and even in his exhausted state he was able to tell the drastic difference in the appearance of his lover. He didn’t look like a dark, half-there figure anymore. He looked whole, just as real as he was all those years ago. That pulled Grillby out of his delirium, and he pushed himself up on his elbows in response to Gaster’s presence.

“No, Grillby, lay back down,” Gaster said gently, sitting on the edge of the bed and pushing Grillby back down into his pillow. “There’s no need to get up on my account. Not with you sick like this.” He was real. And he was wearing one of his hundreds of turtlenecks, and his suit jacket and black pants. One of those turtlenecks was currently bunched up against Grillby’s side, half hidden under the blankets.

“Gaster,” he breathed, voice hoarse, even by his standards of volume. “Why are…? How…?” He took a brief moment to gather his scattered thoughts before he spoke again. “You look like you.” Gaster smiled, bringing a hand up to his chest before a bright white light lit up the room. Grillby could only stare in awe and shock at the upside down heart – Gaster’s SOUL – jagged pieces held tightly together in one form.

He’d found all the pieces. All the pieces scattered across all of time and space, the pieces that made up him and had been lost so long ago. Gaster had found all of his SOUL and now he was home and… and…

Grillby didn’t care that his entire body shook with the effort it took to pull his arms up and drag Gaster down – he was just as light as he remembered – holding him against his body and just wanting to cry with relief. And the coals in his throat made it nearly impossible to breath (as if it wasn’t hard already), and he was crushing Gaster against him just a bit too tight. But he didn’t care. He was so thankful and happy. This was the irrational part of him that hadn’t ever acted up, kept in careful check, the part that had wanted to do this the very first day he saw Gaster again, looming over the broken jukebox like a sad, lonely kid. And Gaster knew, he thought. Gaster understood that this was just one of those times where Grillby wasn’t 100%, where his emotions overwhelmed his reason.

So Grillby just held him as tightly as he could, burying his face in his neck and breathing in his smell that was so achingly familiar. “I missed you,” he breathed, voice lighter than air, his fingers gripping at Gaster’s suit jacket. “I missed you so much and I love you, I love you, god I love you so much...”

He didn’t want to let go, but he was so tired and he had no energy to hold on, but Gaster knew. He always knew. He was too smart for his own good, and that combined with no impulse control often got him into trouble. And so he did sleep, with his lover beside him for the first time in years.

It took him some time to recover. He slept through all of Sunday, and when he woke up again, it was late Monday morning. Initially, he had panicked. He hadn’t notified anyone that the restaurant would be closed, left a note or anything of the sort. He had wanted to get dressed, run down to the restaurant and open it up, even if it was late. If he was anything, he was dedicated to his business. But of course, Gaster was there to stop him, and, as usual, he had thought of everything. He had contacted Sans using Grillby’s phone to inform him of the situation without alluding to his presence.

Grillby had then felt bad. Gaster should be spending his time with his boys, considering the fact that he hadn’t seen or interacted with Papyrus at all in so long. He hadn’t seen Papyrus since he was only eight. Eighteen years had gone by, and so many things had happened in that time. Papyrus and Sans had grown up to be such wonderful people, and they had left the Underground, for what they hoped would be forever this time. Sans would surely have so many things to tell his father, and Papyrus, too, once he remembered enough. Gaster assured him that the time would come when he went and talked to his boys, but as of right now, Grillby needed his help more.

This ‘help’ mainly boiled down to lying in bed with him as Grillby recovered from the deprivation. This time around wasn’t as bad as the last, when Grillby had been put out of commission for several weeks, and had never truly recovered to his 100%. Now that he was on the surface again, exposed to the sunlight once again, he felt just the same as he was before the war. Except, of course, for this spell of cloudiness that had resulted in his exhaustion. Gaster assured him that it would be fine in the next day or so and he would start feeling better.

God, he hoped so.

Grillby and Gaster both were something monsters called workaholics. They were both dedicated to their work, each other and their family. Considering this fact, there was a very delicate checks and balances system they had going between them, something it seemed only the two of them would be able to maintain. When one worked too much, the other would come put a stop to their work and force them into a few days of rest and recuperation. It was delicate, but it worked, just because it was the two of them.

The Royal Scientist and a restaurant owner. A skeleton and a fire elemental. An unlikely duo.

But they made it work. Because it was them.

The next day was nothing but sunny skies. The clouds had blown away in the night, and all that remained were endless stretches of blue sky and one, bright star millions of miles away. Gaster had roused him late on Tuesday morning, telling him the news with a soft voice and a sweet smile. Even if Gaster had to help him out of bed, and had to help him down the stairs and out the back door onto his patio, he was thrilled beyond measure. Hell, he may have danced if he were able.

Breathing in sunlight was like finally finding air after drowning. It was like finally seeing light after decades in the dark. It was more comforting than seeing home after years away, something better than sitting after hours of standing. It was all these little analogies but it was so much more than that at the same time. Something that was hard to put into words.

Regardless of what it was, it paled in comparison to the feeling of Gaster’s hand in his, squeezing tightly as he stood behind him at the border between stone and grass. It paled when he was able to look over and see Gaster, smiling at him, with a hint of mischievous joy in his eyes that both of his sons had naturally inherited.

Gaster suggested that they sit down, and even if the grass was just wet enough to make their clothes damp and the sun made that just a little bit uncomfortable, it didn't matter. And as cliché as it was, the whole world fell away. They weren’t in a yard outside of a house on the surface, miles away from tunnels that was once their home.

They were just together. And Gaster was holding his hand and smiling at him, and his cheeks were just a little bit purple. And Grillby was holding his hand and smiling, too, and he was sure his cheeks were just a little bit blue.

And it was just them.

Chapter Text

Of course, the topic of Gaster’s youngest son wasn’t something that could be left up in the air forever. Eventually, they had to face the fact that Papyrus wasn’t remembering anything as quickly as any of them had hoped. Gaster was there permanently now, staying with Grillby for the time being, until something could be decided.

He’d explained the dynamic of his being as best as he could. He was still much the same, but his being was as present as he would ever be, and maintaining a familiar, physical form required concentration on his part. Not too much, he assured, when Grillby began fretting about Gaster exhausting himself. And at this point, it was in the back of his mind.

Sans had attempted to talk to Papyrus, like Grillby once had, but being much more forward with his questions. It hadn’t been easy to be so direct at first, but Sans wanted Papyrus to remember just like Gaster and Grillby did. Sans had told them the story of when he had just come right out and asked, “hey, paps, do you remember our dad any?” The way Sans had told it, Papyrus had taken much too long to answer, and even then, he’d hesitated before responding. It seemed like he was definitely trying to remember, even if it was not consciously.

It was spring time, and Frisk had let Grillby know that spring break was coming up in nearly two weeks. They definitely seemed awfully excited about it; Toriel, Sans, Papyrus, Undyne, and Alphys were taking them out east to the beach. The six of them were going to rent a beach house; a little cabin right on the water. Frisk had wanted Grillby to come along as well, but Grillby didn’t like water, nor did he want to leave the restaurant. That, and the fact that he had Gaster to worry about.

This was why he had called Papyrus and told him he wanted to see him, on Sunday while the restaurant was closed and Papyrus didn’t have to work, and had invited him to meet him in the park. Papyrus loved going to the park. He loved basking in the sunlight and listening to the birds, even feeding them sunflower seeds (it wasn’t good to feed them bread. It didn’t have the nutrition they needed, even though it made them feel full).

It was a sunny, bright spring day. Some kids were playing kickball at the baseball field, the dirt ground a bit muddy in some areas due to the rain that had come in the night. A few of them had mud on their clothes, some smeared on their faces and arms. Birds were pecking at the ground already, sometimes disturbed when someone would walk by, or if a dog pulled at their leash to try and snap at them.

Papyrus got there long after Grillby had, apologizing for being so late (he had forgotten his bird seed at home and didn’t dare come to the park without it). Grillby told him that it wasn’t a problem at all, that he was more than comfortable with waiting, watching as the first handful of seed brought the birds originally pecking in the field and watching from the trees.

It was these little things that made Grillby smile for no reason. He was truly happy and proud that Papyrus had grown up to be such a kind and wonderful person.

Just as he was about to ask Papyrus how he had been, to make small talk before getting to the main issue, Papyrus beat him to it, surprising him by asking, “This is about what Sans has been asking me

questions about, isn’t it?” When Grillby didn’t respond immediately, Papyrus continued. “I don’t remember him… but I feel like I do, at the same time. Is that weird?”

“No, it’s not,” Grillby answers immediately, because it really isn’t.

“I can tell Sans is hiding something from me, and I know he’s disturbed by something but…” He trails off, occupying his silence with throwing more bird seed to the ground. “Is it really true? That we did have a dad?”

“Yes, you did. He’s been gone since you were 8, and Sans was 13.”

There was a brief moment of silence as Papyrus did the math in his head. “Twenty years?” Grillby nodded beside him, watching as one bird chased away another for some of the seed scattered on the ground. Papyrus didn’t speak again for a long time, but Grillby could tell something was at the tip of this tongue and waited patiently. “I… I think I remember. Bits and pieces. And I have all those books, books I’ve had for as long as I can remember but don’t know where they came from. Sans didn’t get them for me, I know. And… we don’t have any pictures from when we were younger, which is weird because we always had a camera. I guess… I always knew that there was something but…” Papyrus shrugged his shoulders, throwing the last of the bird seed to the ground. “But still. Knowing that my suspicion was true makes it all feel a bit different.” With that statement, Papyrus went back to smiling, laughing a bit.

“I know,” Grillby agreed. “And I don’t blame you for being a bit hesitant.”

“Did you know my dad?”

“Yes. I knew him very well.” Very well.

“What was he like?” Papyrus said, scaring some of the closer birds a few feet away as a result of his sudden jump. He seemed awfully excited to hear about his father.

“Well…” Grillby began, leaning back against the bench. “He was very tall, like you. And he was very smart, and kind and loyal. And he was very dedicated to his work. You remind me of him, very much.” He didn’t miss Papyrus beaming at that. “He and I both fought in the war, and were very close. You and Sans used to come to my house and spend the weekend when Gaster was working. I had to stock up on plenty of ketchup and spaghetti, because you two would clean me out when you came over.” Papyrus laughed at that, and Grillby smiled. “He was the Royal Scientist before Alphys, so he had to work a lot. So you guys got to spend a lot of time with me. Regardless, he was still a good father. He spent a lot of time with you, and he loved you both very much.”

“Then… why can’t I remember him?” Papyrus asked, the birds jumping around his feet as if to ask for more food.

“He… Do you remember the Core?”

“Yeah?”

 “He made that. It took him less than a year after we eventually moved to New Home and found Hotland. He had been making all these wild theories about geothermal energy and using it as a power source, and once we found the open magma flows in Hotland he almost instant knew how to make the Core. A lot of us didn’t think it would work, but I supported him nonetheless. And he made it work. But… Years after it had been fully developed, he… fell into it. It was a workplace accident. I could tell, but… no one else remembered him. Not even you and your brother. But recently… Sans started remembering more and more, and came to me for an explanation. We’d been giving you time and haven’t been pressuring you in hopes that you would begin remembering on your own.”

“What changed that?”

“I first noticed something weird when we were still in the Underground, when Sans had brought Frisk to the restaurant,” he began. “It was just… a shadow out of the corner of my eye that I hardly paid attention to. But it lingered and Frisk continued telling me that someone was watching me, and that he knew who I was. When we came here… It got more frequent, and eventually I was able to see… him.”

“Him?” Papyrus repeated, sounding stunned and incredulous.

“Your dad never actually died,” Grillby said, purposefully not looking at Papyrus. “When he fell into the Core, his soul was shattered into pieces and he became trapped in somewhere called the void. That’s probably why no one else remembered him. He was able to see bits and pieces of the real world, but never for long and time passed much differently. He had to find the pieces of his soul and fit it back together, and only after finding the pieces was he able to come back.” Papyrus was so quiet that Grillby could almost believe he wasn’t there.

“So he’s… alive then,” Papyrus summarizes, sounding nearly monotone. Grillby had never heard him sound like that, so it concerned him a bit. He had no idea what was going on in the young skeleton’s head. He nodded regardless. “Can I… Could I see him?”

“Of course you can.”

Even though Grillby had told him that he may or may not get to see Papyrus today, he didn’t know whether or not Gaster was truly prepared. Ever since he had first told Gaster about his plan, the scientist had gone to his natural state of overthinking and had dredged up every single way the plan could go wrong. Regardless of how Grillby had tried to calm him down, it hadn’t seemed to do any good, until Grillby finally silenced him with a kiss and a firm affirmation that it was going to be fine.

He told Papyrus to wait in the entry way of the house while he went and got Gaster. The young skeleton was wringing his scarf in his hands, and Grillby realized that he hadn’t told Papyrus that that had been Gaster’s scarf, once upon a time. When Papyrus was a baby, it had become the small skeletons security blanket, and had calmed him whenever he began to cry. It was something that Gaster had given Papyrus whenever he was on the war front, just in case he didn’t make it back. Grillby went into the living room, where Gaster was. He had seemed to hear them come in, and was standing waiting for him.

Gaster seemed like he was going to say something, but Grillby shook his head, stopping him before anything was verbalized. Instead, Grillby crossed the living room silently, taking Gaster’s hands in his own. “He wanted to see you,” he says simply, and understanding crossed Gaster’s face. “I’ll go ahead and leave – ”

“No,” Gaster says softly, stopping his sentence in its tracks. “I’d… rather have you with me.” Gaster squeezes his hands, and Grillby nods. Gaster needs the support, and Grillby was more than willing to give it.

“It’ll be okay, Wing,” Grillby assures, dragging out the old nickname that he knows will make Gaster smile. It works, and he reaches up to pat Gaster on the shoulder before letting him go ahead. Papyrus was still waiting by the door, and when they came around the corner, he jumped, as if he hadn’t been expecting them that soon.

Neither of them spoke, and neither of them moved, but the air was thick with things that needed to be said and done. Grillby kept a very close eye on them, unable tell anything from the carefully neutral facial expressions they both kept.

Finally, “Dad,” and Papyrus had made his way down the hall faster than Grillby could process, throwing himself against Gaster. Despite how tall Gaster was (even if he was a few inches above Grillby’s height), Papyrus was taller. The older skeleton cast Grillby a panicked glance where his face was barely visible over his youngest son’s shoulder (who was clinging to him probably a bit too tightly), and the elemental gave him a patient smile.

Before Gaster could appropriately react, Papyrus had drawn back, keeping a firm hold on Gaster’s sweater, looking up at his father with stars in his eyes. “You look almost just like me!” Papyrus shouted, than stepped back and struck his signature pose. “As to be expected. Who wouldn’t miss an opportunity to look like the Great Papyrus! Oh, I have so much to tell you! I’m a police officer, did you know that? That’s like the Royal Guard!” Papyrus put his hands to his hips, looking incredibly proud and positively beaming.

“Oh, my little baby bones,” Gaster said, sounding (and looking) very overwhelmed. “You’ve grown up so much! I’m so… I’m so proud of you.” He pulled Papyrus back into his arms again, looking like he was trying to keep himself from crying.

He ended up failing.

“Do you want to stay for dinner Papyrus?” Grillby suggested softly. “It’ll give you and your father some time to catch up. I’ll make spaghetti.” Papyrus eagerly agreed, and Grillby suggested they move to the living room while he kept himself out of the conversation in the kitchen and occupied himself with making dinner.

This has gone… a lot better than expected. It seemed that seeing Gaster had jogged Papyrus’s memory. And now the man he loved was in the next room, finally able to talk to and see his youngest son. Grillby almost wanted to cry out of relief. It hadn’t been that long, and he had barely gotten started cooking, when he heard a loud scream of disbelief coming from the living room that made him jump in surprise.

“Is everything okay in here?” he asked when he had edged into the living room doorway.

“I remember now!” Papyrus screeched, and Grillby noticed that Gaster’s cheeks were dusted purple. “You two were together! Together together! Are you both still…?” Gaster gave an embarrassed chuckle, rubbing at his forearm awkwardly. That combined with the fact that Grillby’s face was most likely a bright blue, made Papyrus gasp. “You are! OH IM SO HAPPY FOR YOU!” And then Papyrus was hugging Gaster too tightly again, forcing Grillby to rush in and separate the two of them before Papyrus broke his father in half.

Once he was sure that they would be fine without his supervision, Grillby returned to the kitchen and finished making dinner. Considering the fact that he cooked for a living, one would probably assume that in his off time he wouldn’t enjoy it. That wasn’t the case. Grillby had always loved cooking, and had simply turned something he enjoyed and was good at into his job. Just because it was something he had done day to day now for the past twenty eight years didn’t mean it had become any less enjoyable. Baking was a bit less enjoyable, simply because he couldn’t make any type of icing look nice and presentable. To be honest, it was probably because he hadn’t put tons of time into it, but he single handedly runs a somewhat popular resturaunt for twelve hours daily, six days a week meant and that he was a bit too busy to bake constantly. Well, eventually he’d retire, but that wouldn’t be for a while. Honestly, he liked working a bit too much.

Once dinner had been made, waiting in the kitchen for it to be eaten, he had gone and leaned against the entryway in the living room, watching as Papyrus tells another one of his famous Royal Guard (in training) escapades to Gaster. Grillby didn’t pay much attention to what exactly was being said, rather focusing on the pairs’ expression. They both looked incredibly happy, and that made something really bright and hot swell up in his chest.

Both his sons were happy. The love of his life was happy. He was happy. Everything was…

It felt too good to be true.

Chapter Text

If you had asked anyone 33 years ago before Sans was born, everyone would have said that Gaster would have made a horrible parent. Even Grillby himself would have agreed when he first met Gaster, when they were children. Grillby remembers being frightened of Gaster’s parents. (When he got to know them, he found that they were, in fact, very kind – especially Gaster’s mother, Verdana. His father, Gill, was odd and harder to connect with, but he was kind, despite being incredibly socially inept).Gaster was standing between the two of them, holding his backpack against his front like a security blanket. He looked scared, but it was well reserved.

Grillby’s parents had both seriously considered whether or not he should be allowed to go to school when he came of age. As with all elementals, it took training and time for them to learn how to control their elemental, and their own being. Grillby couldn’t count the number of toys he had set in flames purely by touching them. His parents were endearingly patient with him, and he was always one to learn quickly. Regardless, he felt confident of his self-control, and his parents reflected the same sureness.

So he went to school, and he had a purple backpack (because purple was his favorite color), and some of the other kids thought it was a weird color for a boy to have. But his teacher thought it was a lovely color and that he shouldn’t listen to them. It was the first day, and they didn’t know each other, so the teacher (he can’t remember her name, only that she was soft spoken and kind, but was rigid when it came to discipline) decided it was imperative to get to know one another. Standing in front of each other and saying their names, their favorite animal and their favorite colors seemed to be an adequate “getting to know each other” exercise for kindergarteners.

He didn’t care to remember every single person, but he did remember when Gaster stood up, his cheeks flushed purple, and he spoke almost too softly to hear. “Louder, honey,” the teacher said from her stool. “We can’t quite hear you.” Gaster had made himself seem so much smaller than he already was by crossing his arms tighter, and he repeated himself, a bit louder, but with his cheeks darkening with every second. “My name is Wing Ding Gaster, my favorite animal is the Glaucus Atlanticus, and my favorite color is grey.” He said it quickly, and then sat down, wrapping his arms around his knees, and stuffing his face in his sweaters sleeves. He didn’t know whatever that animal was, and neither did anyone else (judging by the way they looked at the teacher in confusion), but he didn’t necessarily care. All he knew was that Gaster blushed purple, and he liked the color purple.

At snack time, he had gone and asked Gaster if he wanted to have some of his monster crackers, and recalled that Gaster was reading a book without pictures and thicker than his hand. He had sat down beside Gaster and shared his monster crackers and asked him about the animal that he liked, to which Gaster explained it was a type of snail that lived in the ocean. It was blue and silver, stung like a jellyfish and was almost the same size as one of his metacarpals. Grillby didn’t know what that was either, but he didn’t ask.

In the beginning, Grillby didn’t like Gaster that much, and vice versa. Grillby was true to the nature of fire. He was quick to anger and act, and rarely thought through his actions and their effects. Gaster was the exact opposite. He was timid and rarely spoke up, but would find all facts and form educated opinions. Due to such variation in their behaviors, they found themselves disagreeing with each other quite often. Furthermore, they seemed to be locked in a constant arms race of intelligence. However smart Grillby thought he was, he always paled in comparison to Gaster. Sometimes Grillby began to think that he accomplishments meant nothing because he wasn’t as good Gaster was.

It wasn’t until they were in the third grade does that petty one-sided rivalry finally falls away. It had been their first day back after the summer break and Grillby remembered that Gaster hadn’t come. He found himself incredibly concerned for the skeleton. Had he moved away? Grillby honestly didn’t know, but he hoped that wasn’t the case.

Gaster didn’t come back until it was already three days into the school year. Grillby was able to tell that something was the matter with him; he was even more soft spoken than usual and didn’t answer any questions that the teacher would have, and that was the most unusual.

It wasn’t until recess that Grillby confronted Gaster about what was wrong with him, why he had missed the first three days and if he was okay. Gaster had initially wondered why he cared, but had eventually told him that his father had passed away and he and his mother were in mourning. Grillby didn’t know what to say. He was only 9, and the most he understood about mortality was that his mother told him that if he jumped in the river he wouldn’t come home. Gaster was 8, and even if he was super smart, he was only a kid, too. Kids can’t understand death the same way adults can. Regardless, he knew that he hated to see this little skeleton (Gaster didn’t get taller than him until they were both teenagers) fighting back tears with his fists clenched and shaking and with his face flushed that purple that Grillby still liked.

They were both surprised when Grillby had hugged him, and Gaster had hugged him too and cried into the elementals shoulder. They had been friends ever since, inseparable and always there for one another. Regardless of their odd, rocky start, it was always destined.

Neither of them had a solid belief in the concept of destiny. Whether or not some people were meant to meet, or certain things were meant to happen, it was easier to believe that they could control the events of their own lives, rather than everything controlled by the strings of fate. Still, it certainly was an odd circumstance that Grillby’s parents just happened to let him go to school that year, and he met a skeleton that blushed purple when his favorite color was purple. (Thinking back on that as an adult, or even as a teenager, he found that was such an extremely childish and embarrassing way to find a friend).

When they graduated school and became independent adults, Gaster was the one that went off to college. Grillby’s parents were hard workers and had always expected him to manage the restaurant when he got older. He had worked there after school every day bussing tables and washing dishes. He hated doing it. He wanted to be able to cook in the back like his dad or even be behind the bar like his mom, and they promised that he would, with time. Even if the college wasn’t far away, they found themselves too busy to be able to hang out like they used to.

College was where Gaster met his wife, Lucida. It was really a matter of luck, considering the difference in their majors. Gaster, with his extreme interest in the sciences, ended up graduating with a double major in engineering physics and geophysics. Lucida was an English major, graduating with a degree in literary journalism. Along with the drastic difference in study emphasis, the college had nearly 60,000 active students during the four years they were there, but they just so happened to be scheduled in the same required writing class. Gaster had introduced her to Grillby the summer after they met. Grillby had to admit that she was incredible, and lovely. She was headstrong and kind, too energetic for her own good and fascinatingly optimistic. She was one of the few people other than Grillby that were able to handle Gaster’s odd personality.

He wasn’t able to easily explain or express himself. His way of thinking was too complex for most people to understand and it was hard for him to break it down into simplistic terms. And often when people didn’t get the things he was trying to explain to him, he would end up getting quite frustrated and angry. He wasn’t particularly patient, and would rarely repeat himself. It was a miracle that he could maintain a relationship considering the fact that he had no means of expressing emotion very well. He did care, and he did love Lucida dearly, but it was difficult for him to express those things.

Gaster’s impatience and his difficulty in expression, as well as his reckless nature when it came to science, is why anyone would have said Gaster shouldn’t be a parent. Children required that patience that eluded him and a role model in safety, not one that repeatedly put their own life in danger once he got his own lab in Hotland (though the recklessness may have elevated after the idea of the CORE hit him). Still, when they had Sans, Gaster changed. Maybe that’s what having a child did to a person. He still had a hard time simplifying things to explain them, and often found himself getting frustrated by how much attention a child required, but Grillby noticed he was a bit more emotional after his first sons’ birth. In fact, after his son was born was the first time he had seen Gaster cry since third grade, after his father had died.

It wasn’t just with his sons that Gaster was noticeably different. Grillby noticed that he was a lot more talkative, and was would often use odd analogies and metaphors to ensure that Grillby understood his CORE theory. Gaster would often spend several hours explaining the things he was doing in his lab to Grillby, in detail (even though the elemental knew nothing about geophysics), and an equivalent amount of time drawing with Sans and Papyrus. Even though drawing was a waste of time in Gaster’s opinion (and he couldn’t really see how the blue scribbles on the paper could ever be a dog), he still entertained that idea, and he did have a good time drawing with his boys.

Whenever Grillby thought back to those days, Gaster would often use those crayons and paper to draw out complicated construction blueprints and would often go back and add even more complicated equations and measurements. Sans would always tell him that that wasn’t really coloring; that was like doing his work while he was at home. Eventually, Gaster did start drawing things that weren’t work related. Gaster wasn’t particularly gifted when it came to the arts (he couldn’t barely draw a decent stick figure), but soon, Grillby’s fridge became covered in crayon drawings from his three favorite boys.

Those drawings had been packed away in a box after Gaster disappeared.

Now, they were scattered on the floor of Grillby’s living room. He hadn’t been able to sleep after Papyrus had left (only after promising he’d be back after work tomorrow and he would be bringing Sans and Frisk with him), even though Gaster was out cold. After shimmying out from underneath Gaster, Grillby went downstairs, dragging out the box full of drawings from the storage closet beneath his stairs. He’d gotten a little tight in the chest more than a few times. With each piece of paper that he pulled from the box, he remembered the pitter patter of footsteps that came up to him, which pair of hands gave it to him and where it went on his fridge. He remembered running out of magnets at some point, and they began using tape.

Eventually (and nearly at the bottom of the box), he found his favorite.

Gaster wasn’t an artist by any means, but that didn’t mean he never made anything worthwhile, not by any means. Grillby loved his drawings just as much as he loved he drawings from their sons. As he brushed his fingers across the paper, he remembered when he had received it. Grillby had been washing dishes after dinner, and had been surprised by Gaster’s arms winding around his waist and the skeleton’s chest pressing against his back. He had been completely silent, and Grillby initially thought that something was wrong. But the rustle of paper made him look down, and he removed his gloves to take it (there were actually two different drawings) from him. Gaster’s hands linked with each other over his stomach, and Grillby appreciated the artwork in his hands.

The first was the one he was currently holding his hands. It was a stick figure drawing of the four of them. Grillby in red and orange and with his typical vest and bowtie, with Gaster right beside him drawn in grey and black. Sans and Papyrus were on either side of them, in blue and orange respectively. Grillby couldn’t help but smile when he saw it. The next page was just the two of them, and, at the top, written in dark purple, “I love you”.

And often, life imitated art, because he saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and turned to see Gaster, looking extremely disheveled and wrapped up in his robe. Gaster sat down beside him, only after he had traversed the drawings piled all around him, leaning into his side.

“What’re you doing up?” Grillby asks, handing Gaster the drawing when he reached for it, and putting his arm around his shoulders. It was nearly two am, or at least, it had been when Grillby had gotten up and come downstairs.

“I was cold,” Gaster murmurs. “And you were gone.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Grillby explained. “I remembered where I put all these and really wanted to see them.” He reached into the box and dug out another one. This one had been drawn by Papyrus, and it was just after his first day of school, and was of his teacher and his new friend, Undyne.

“You really kept all these?” Gaster sounds like he’s in disbelief.

“Every single one,” Grillby answered. And of course he had. Who wouldn’t? Gaster hums, sounding pleased. He sat down the drawing he had made decades ago, and wrapped his arms around the elemental. “You should go back to bed.”

“’m not going unless you come with me,” Gaster complains, and Grillby can tell he’s exhausted. “It’s too cold upstairs.”

“You’re always cold,” Grillby laughs, but manages to get Gaster’s arms from around his waist enough to stand up. “C’mon. I’ll clean this up in the morning.” Gaster was a bit too tall compared to him to carry, but that didn’t stop Grillby from hauling the skeleton up into his arms and taking him back upstairs to their bed.

Gaster was more than willing to sleep now that Grillby was there, passing out nearly as soon as he wrapped his limps around the elemental. Gaster was like an octopus when he slept. He may start off the night on his own side, with his own pillow, but that didn’t last very long. His pillow would become Grillby’s chest, and he would have his limbs draped over him. Not that Grillby would complain, but sometimes it did make it a bit hard to get out of bed in the morning and make breakfast before Gaster woke up. But he’d rather not think about that now. They could sleep in in the morning. Grillby smiled, listening to Gaster’s soft breathing until he fell asleep.

He slept so deeply that he didn’t dream.