Chapter Text
Grillby was a responsible monster.
After moving from Hotland to Snowdin, he had founded a business all on his own; through rigid perseverance, he transformed his culinary passion into his livelihood.
But Grillby hardly had any clue of what to do with himself when his newfound passion wasn’t a practice, but a person.
Despite the fact that only three weeks had passed since you both made your relationship official, Grillby felt like he had already spent his entire life with you. He couldn’t properly explain why.
Or even begin to explain why.
Typically, Grillby was the very definition of reserved.
To him, speaking was an action intended solely for communicating that which body language could not: it was silence that was his comfort beyond all else.
But with you, there was so much to be said!
Talking was a necessity when you were near: you always begged to hear about his day, and while at first his partner had to force the words out of him, he quickly learned to love telling stories.
When he saw the wonder in your eyes as he spoke… Well, he would ramble on forever if it meant that expression would be painted on your adorable face.
Not to mention the way your laugh untangled his insides, loosening tight pains which he hadn’t even noticed before, making everything righter than right.
Grillby had grown so comfortable with you that his perpetually stiff shoulders sank from relief when you were around.
He always looked forward to dates with you; they were almost nightly, and each day felt like eons to wait.
Grillby, like the caring boyfriend he was, was insistent that he be the one to host all of your dates. With each location predetermined, your dates became routine:
Shortly after closing his restaurant, you would stumble in through the back door, the mere sight of you triggering an electric sensation through his flames which sent them fluttering and blazing.
There, two of you would spend hours simply talking, describing your days to one another.
Then, once your eyes lidded with tiredness that you had long held at bay, he would walk you home.
Grillby relished the quiet murmurs that escaped your sleepy lips as you leaned into him while he was guiding you home.
From beginning to end, each moment spent with you were the best times of his life. For every second you were apart, he longed to see you again.
But today… Grillby was fighting off a terrible nervousness, trying to shake the thought of your upcoming date from his mind.
Because this would be the first time he had ever stepped foot in your house.
This ordeal began when, last night, Grillby had told you of the “bad day” he went through.
Really, it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle:
just Bunny being extra creepy and flirty with him, which he hated…
And the dogs lapping up their drinks, leaving giant messes of splatters which he had to clean up…
And Bird “translating” for him, completely misjudging what he was silently communicating and giving his customers the wrong idea…
Okay, so maybe he had been slightly overwhelmed.
When you arrived for your date, he had hoped you wouldn’t notice: if anything, he simply wanted to forget about the stressful event of the day, but your face fell when you saw how his flames were flaring out of control.
It was a rare sight to see him lose the reigns of his fire’s heat, which made it all the more worrying.
Despite the uncomfortable temperature Grillby generated in his current condition, you took a step closer and grabbed his burning hands.
“Grillby, what happened?”
He died inside a little when he heard the pity in your tone.
He didn’t want to bother you with his own troubles, he wanted to present himself as calm and collected—not as… this mess!
But who was Grillby to deny you?
With a heavy sigh that drew crackling embers from his throat, he recounted the events of the day to you, in great detail.
By the time he finished, you were overtaken with sympathy. Grillby couldn’t bear to face you when you looked at him like that, and ducked his head in shame.
But after he steadied himself and met your eyes once more, their expression had shifted.
They were sparkling with determination, and a hint of mischievous glee.
“I think you’ve earned a break!”
Grillby tilted his head in confusion, but before he could gather his words, you planted a delicate kiss on the back of his fiery hand.
He could feel his whole body warming as your lips pressed against the surface of his flames.
“And, as your partner, I’m going to be the one to give it to you.”
He stuttered profusely, but you simply laid one finger against his would-be mouth, gently cooing until he silenced.
“Don’t worry, Grillby. It’s just for one day—I can call Sans, I know he’d cover for you in a heartbeat!”
He doubted Sans would agree to cover for him in the single beat of a heart, considering how quickly Grillby’s was palpitating.
“You’re not gonna work tomorrow, m’kay?”
Grillby groaned, defeated; solemnly nodding his head.
You squinted, pouting at him.
“I can’t trust you’ll keep that promise without verbal confirmation.”
You held his face in your palms, your piercing gaze stabbing right past his glasses and puncturing his every thought, shredding them all to bits.
Until, finally, he muttered the words he never believed he’d ever have to say.
“....I... Am not... Working tomorrow.”
Satisfied, you released your grip—both your hands and your eyes—and drifted towards the exit door.
Grillby frowned through his glasses at your early leave, drawing a tittering laugh out of you.
“I need you to get some good sleep tonight, alright? You’re coming to my house first thing tomorrow morning!”
With that, you gently closed the door, leaving a frazzled Grillby staring at the empty space you once occupied.
Needless to say, he didn’t get a wink of sleep that night.
His only source of energy was anxious adrenaline, which propelled him out of bed and down the stairs, out of his living space and into his restaurant.
Sans was already behind the counter, smiling at Grillby as he aimlessly wiped a cup, in imitation of him.
“Going to their house on your day off?”
“..........”
“If they’re able to pull you away from work so easily, you must like ‘em a lot.”
Grillby chose to ignore Sans’s comment, giving him a silent nod of thanks for covering for him.
“Hey, it’s no problem. Not like I had anything else to do today.”
As though on cue, a loud voice started shouting outside.
“SANS!!! YOU LAZYBONES, WHERE DID YOU GO?! YOUR POST IS UNMANNED!!!”
Sans’s smirk grew wider as Grillby quietly groaned.
“You can go on your date now. I got this, pal.“
Grillby struggled not to give in to his paranoia, leaving Sans in the restaurant with a very angry Papyrus running amok outside.
He slipped past Papyrus before he could be spotted, and began his anxious trek towards your house.
Because he walked you home so often, Grillby knew the path by heart.
But now that he was on his way to your house with intentions of entering, each step he took felt entirely different from usual.
As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Grillby was undeniably terrified.
Your relationship was still only starting out—
What was it going to be like… Being inside your house?
It was an UTTER DISASTER.
Grillby was almost here—you could just sense it—and you hadn’t even finished baking!!!
Bowls of batter were strewn across your kitchen, your cookbook was nearly torn to shreds with how violently you had been flipping the pages, and—was that foul stench coming from your OVEN?!
You rushed to open it, and sure enough, thick black smoke roiled like sickly mud. The heat was muggy and uncomfortable, nothing like the warmth that Grillby emitted.
If you had fire magic like most monsters, these cookies would’ve been a perfect golden brown… But no.
If you were actually GOOD at baking, then this would have been a GOOD idea to do… But no.
WHY?! Of all things you decided on baking for him!? You should know better!
I just wanted to impress him! Is that really so wrong?!
Yes. It was. Because now your house was in complete disarray, and Grillby was on his way over, expecting a calm day with you.
It’s okay! I can recover from this… I’ll just finish mixing this batch and clean the kitchen up while they’re baking!
Confident in your plan, you began to stir some batter vigorously, spilling dollops everywhere: you were too tunnel-visioned to notice, though.
You were so focused, in fact, that you hadn’t even heard Grillby come in: he watched you with amused concern as you beat the dough like it murdered your mother.
You were muttering incoherently to yourself—Grillby always loved that cute habit of yours. Only, this time, the mutterings were noticeably… panicked.
Still just as adorable though.
He decided to let you bake in peace, standing out of your peripheral, so as not to be seen.
He directed his attention to your home: askew photos of family and friends, a looming pile of laundry, and various belongings lying about.
It was just as cluttered as he expected it to be. He smiled internally at your reliable predicability, returning his gaze to you.
His joy fizzled out when he saw the look on your face; your features pulled taut with stress, a certain redness to your eyes which indicated tears were soon to come.
Grillby stood, approaching with trepidation.
I shouldn’t have invited him over… My house is too messy—I’m too messy for him—!
You were pulled out of your spiral when you felt a warm body press against your back.
A very warm body.
Grillby laid his flaming hands atop your own and made circular motions with them, demonstrating a far more efficient method of whisking the batter.
He rested his chin on your shoulder as he guided your every motion, like a caring puppeteer.
His voice, barely a whisper, rattled your brain as he murmured into your ear.
“....You’ve been doing a great job. We just........... Have to get this dough to be.......”
Still controlling your hands with his own, he dipped your fingertip in the batter before raising it up into the air.
“The right...... Consistency.”
You felt a flush of heat as the pad of your finger came into contact with Grillby’s face, the batter fizzling into nothing.
It was such a pleasant sensation to have your entire body warmed with a touch so light…
How—what did he just do?
Did he just… Lick the dough off of your finger?
Grillby seemed to come to this realization at the same time as you, suddenly jolting and backing away from you as you whipped around to face him.
You stared at one another for a moment, Grillby looking just as shocked as you.
While Grillby tried to gather himself, you inspected the singe he left on your fingerprint.
So that’s what his kisses are like…
Light, sizzling pecks which ignited a surge of warmth throughout your entire body.
Grillby clasped his hands behind his back, as though holding himself back from you.
“S-sorry about that! It was muscle memory—I usually do a quick taste test while cooking—”
His rambling came to an abrupt halt when you burst out in a fit of giggles.
After a good minute, Grillby was still eyeing you nervously as you wiped your eyes, laughing.
“I think that’s the fastest I’ve ever heard you talk!”
Grillby—afraid he’d keep stumbling over his words—turned his head away before he next spoke.
“....Sorry.”
You smiled at the flustered twirling of his flames as you, too, blushed.
“No, no! I’m the one who should be sorry—I never even heard you come in… What kind of host am I?”
“....You were focused...... There’s...... no reason to apologize for that.”
As Grillby waved a dismissive hand in the air, a meek grin crossed your face.
There was a beat of silence before Grillby choked out his next words, as though they brought him physical pain.
“What I meant before was..... I’m sorry for... Burning. You.”
You absentmindedly glanced at the aforementioned ‘burn’ on your hand, which really was nothing more than a dry spot.
The mark was minimal—sure, it stung a little, but…
You found that you didn’t mind.
“Oh, this? It’s alright, just a slight singe.”
Making sure Grillby was watching, you grazed your finger over your wet lips to soothe it: he made an odd peep sounding far higher than what his gravelly voice should be capable of.
He attempted to pass the squeak off as a cough, hiding his blush and muffling his voice with his elbow as he spoke into it.
“...It... Didn’t... hurt you?”
Eh, a little.
“Not at all.”
“You... Were... Fine with it?”
More than fine. WAY more than fine.
“Yeah.”
Crackles and hisses filled your ears as Grillby sighed of relief, then leaned against your kitchen counter, examining the bowl of batter.
He was looking very deeply into the dough, head turned away from you.
“....Well....... I’m... Relieved.”
For someone usually so cool and collected, he’s surprisingly easy to mess with.
Staring at Grillby from behind, the corner of your mouth quirked at this realization.
Sure, today was supposed to be Grillby’s break from it all… But…
It’s already a disaster anyway, so how much bad could a little teasing do, really?
Grillby was rolling spheres of dough in his fiery palms, baking them with his own heat.
His culinary instincts were kicking in: even though his face was out of view, you could feel the concentration oozing off of him.
Concentration which you wanted nothing more than to break.
“You know… I think that was the first time you’ve kissed me.”
Grillby stiffened, a strangled sound escaping him.
“But could I count that as a kiss? I mean, you more or less just licked me.”
“......!”
“I suppose I’ll just have to take what I can get, though.”
Grillby frantically spun to face you, hoping his scolding eye contact would silence you.
It didn’t.
If anything, the dread in his eyes only spurred you on.
“You’re probably too nervous to flirt, after all—I’m usually the one to do that.”
Grillby’s flames flared out of control, their hue a raging magenta.
“I mean, since I’ve liked you for so long, it’s not surprising that I’m always the one to initiate.”
Without warning, Grillby’s flustered panic came to a halt:
His terror was quickly replaced by inquisition as he studied you.
“You’ve—....... How long....... Have you liked me?”
Oh no.
Just like that, the tables were turned.
You couldn’t last another second with him looking at you like that.
You angled your head to avoid his gaze, taking hold of the sheet of freshly baked cookies and walking to the table.
“I think the cookies are r—”
Grillby grabbed your wrist.
“They....... Probably need some more time to cool.”
“It’s alright.”
You gently slid out of his grasp, reaching the table and setting the baking sheet down before taking a bite of one of the cookies.
“The heat never bothered me, anyway.”
Though you were facing the wall, you still knew Grillby had sat down, detecting the increase of temperature when he neared you.
He didn’t speak.
You didn’t like it. It reminded you of the times before, when you hardly knew each other. When you doubted he even knew your name.
“Since the day I moved here.”
“........What?”
“I’ve liked you since the day I moved to Snowdin. When I first saw you.”
Grillby paused for a moment. You could’ve sworn you heard him stop breathing.
“...For....... A year and..... Five months.”
“Huh?”
“You’ve been living in Snowdin for........ Just shy of a year and a half.”
You finally willed your eyes off the wall, but when you looked at Grillby, he was staring at the table.
“...I remember when you arrived at Snowdin...”
Your eyes met.
“I've... Never stopped thinking about you...... Ever since that day.”
“Grillby… I...”
Dumbfounded, you were wracking your brain for a response as Grillby stood up from his seat and rounded the table, until he was directly in front of where you sat.
He crouched down so that your faces were level, and your stuttering grew more incomprehensible as the distance between you shrank.
“Now that I know... That... The feeling was mutual from the very beginning...”
Grillby held your chin in his hand, trailing his thumb across your jaw.
“I wish I had... Gotten to do this... Sooner.”
Your eyes fluttered shut in anticipation, and your body overflowed with warmth as Grillby’s fire met your lips.
Being kissed by Grillby was far more different than his regular touches: typically any contact with him resulted in a passive heat, like sipping a hot drink.
But this… Was significantly hotter. It seared your mouth and made you burn up inside, like you were coming down with a fever.
An all-consuming fever.
You ran your fingers through the flowing flames atop Grillby’s head, and as you pet him, he sighed into your mouth.
Your hands were still on his face even as you pulled away to catch your breath.
As he took your appearance in, you could see the concern behind Grillby’s glasses.
“Your lips... They’re burned...!”
Grillby tried inching away from you, but he couldn’t escape your grasp.
“...I thought you said it didn’t hurt.”
“Grillby, I’m gonna be so honest, I could not care less.”
You brought your scalding lips back to his face before he could object. He groaned, but made no effort to stop you.
Grillby supposed that… If you liked it… Then perhaps this was fine.
It felt more than fine. WAY more than fine.