Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Another day another move.

The bus pulls up to your stop, and you hop off with only a small duffel bag and the clothes on your back. You still can’t believe you’re moving to a tiny little mountain town halfway across the country, but with the rent as cheap as it is, you’re not about to complain.

You look in the direction that your new apartment is supposed to be, and almost fall over.

It lies at the top of a ridiculously steep hill. That certainly wasn’t mentioned in the listing. You would laugh if you had gotten any sleep in the past 24 hours, but right now you kind of (very much) want to cry.

You kind of understand why the rent is so cheap.

After an arduous trek, the apartment building is finally in front of you (Lord have mercy on your soul). Actually, now that you’re looking at it, rather than an apartment… it looks more like a motel. It seems as though you don’t have to go through any sort of concierge before getting to your room. Instead, stairs running up the side of the building lead to each floor, where an outdoor hallway runs to connect a few units.

Before you can breathe a sigh of relief, you realize that you’re on the THIRD FLOOR! This has to be some sort of sick joke. You begrudgingly climb a rickety metal staircase and continue your journey, which compared to your trek up the hill, is surprisingly easy.

Key in lock, you shove the door open, and quickly lock it behind you.

Chucking your duffel bag aside, you collapse onto the dusty floor and glance around at your surroundings. It doesn’t take you long, as there were only two rooms: the main room, with a rusty bed, a small kitchen, a window that almost covered an entire wall, and an antique-looking lamp, as well as a washroom with a toilet and shower.

You crawl over to the window. It’s a breathtaking view; back in the city you would never have dreamt of being able to see the tips of evergreen trees, what looks like a lake or river, and a mountain more beautiful than any picture you would find on the internet, all just outside of your bedroom.

You look for some sort of handle to open the window with, even checking behind the drawn curtains, but to no avail. In the back of your mind you feel some relief, as this means any urge you might have to leap out of it and become a permanent part of the scenery would be dispelled. You shake this thought out of your mind and quickly turn away from the view.

It is then that you notice the far wall, where there hangs an old silver mirror, coated in dust just like the rest of the place. Other than the window, this is the only wall ornament. You didn’t see it at first, since it was in the corner, but its dull gleam from the sun’s reflection entices you, and you slowly get up and walk over to stand in front of it.

Before you realise what you’re doing, your fingertips reach out to the glass and trail downward, leaving streaks of smudged glass behind. Through the gaps in dust, you make eye contact with a person you don’t recognize – their hair is bleached and their eyes are dull and tired. You inhale sharply, jumping back and lashing out at the mirror with your other hand. The glass crunches under you, leaving you to clutch at your now injured fist.

You hiss in frustration and pain. How stupid did you have to be? You didn’t have any medical supplies yet. You only had the time and space to bring the essentials: a few articles of clothing, your toothbrush and toothpaste, soap, and your savings.

Trying not to move your wounded hand too much, you head towards the bathroom and silently pray that the rushed previous tenants had left something of use behind, spotting a cracked medicine cabinet above a porcelain sink. You open the door hesitantly and then let out a sigh of relief. The cabinet was full.

You feel like a child who discovered a treasure chest as you look through the contents of the cupboard. There are a bunch of prescription bottles, which worries you somewhat, as you wouldn’t have thought this was the kind of thing to be forgotten, but you don’t question it and shift them all to one side of the cabinet.

But sorting through all of these items begins to take its toll on you, and your hand begins to scream for attention. You quickly pick out a pair of tweezers, some antiseptic, and a roll of gauze, and sit on the floor of the bathroom in an attempt to minimize the mess.

It doesn’t take you long to pick out the bits of glass embedded in your hand. In fact, in a twisted sort of way, you almost missed this routine. You apply the antiseptic, cursing as its sting flooded through you, and wrapped your hand in gauze.

What a great start.

You stare at the floor for a few minutes without really seeing it, but then realize that you’ve left blood and glass everywhere and jump up, careful not to step on anything. You wonder if the previous tenants left cleaning supplies behind as well, and you head over to the kitchen to check the cupboards.

Jackpot. Not only did they leave behind numerous cleaning supplies, they left an assortment of pots, pans, cutlery, and tools. You almost faint due to the amount of money you’ve just saved, but take pause and wonder what had the previous tenants in such a rush to leave. 

Oh well.

You grab some rags, bleach, and a dustpan, and spend the next half hour cleaning up after yourself.

After finishing in the bathroom, you begin to scrub the floor under the mirror. Your thoughts rapidly stray away from the task at hand, and your heart beats strangely as you consider the seriousness of your situation.

Your first priority should be finding a job.

A real job.

A safe job.

And you need to find one fast.

Somehow you were lucky enough to stumble upon this place, whose owner was desperate and willing to sell on short notice for cheap, and your luck somehow saved you from buying about half of the supplies you needed, but you knew this kind of thing wouldn’t last for very long. You were never known for being lucky.

Your field of vision is slightly blurry, and your eyes are finding it hard to focus. You look down and see that your hands are shaking in an exaggerated manner; if you didn’t know any better, you might think it was a conscious action. That familiar heated prickle makes its way up your body. A stream of incoherent words falls out of your mouth and you shake your head over and over again.

Why now? You try to focus on the fact that you’re alive, you’re safe, your heart is beating, your lungs are moving, but you end up curled into yourself with your good hand clutching at your head as you try to stop your thoughts.

“You’re never going to make it out there by yourself.”

Inhale.

“Pathetic.”

Exhale.

Your good hand wraps around the wrist of your bad hand, and you grip it tightly in order to bring sensation back to you. Your knuckles strain with effort, and so does your arm.

You take a deep, shuddering breath and realize that you’ve been crying, but you’re back. They’re your tears. You slowly get up, hands still shaking, dispose of the used rags and put the cleaning supplies back in the cupboard, and curl up on the floor next to your duffel bag. Just for a minute, just to calm down. Your breaths become deeper, and your eyes begin to close…

What seems like only moments later, you awaken to the sound of fervent rapping at your door. The apartment is now dark. How long were you out for? You’re not sure if it’s late, or really early the next morning. You get out of bed and take careful steps to the front door’s peephole, revealing that on the other side there is someone with a red... scarf? You can’t tell.

They seem to sense your presence, and press their face up against the door to shout, “NEIGHBOURING HUMAN! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, COME BEARING GIFTS OF WELCOMING!!! PLEASE OPEN THE DOOR!!”

The sudden overwhelming noise makes you shrink backwards slightly. Does this mean that people saw you arrive? The voice said "neighbouring", so, this is your neighbour? You remind yourself that this is a small town in the middle of nowhere. It doesn't make sense to be so suspicious, especially considering that you've only just moved here. Besides, who would make up the name "Papyrus"?

Keeping the door chain locked, you pull your door open a crack, hiding your face behind the wood. “Um… No, thank you. I appreciate the offer but I’m fine.”

There is a short silence, and whoever is at the door says, a bit more softly, “UNFORTUNATE… BUT I WILL RESPECT YOUR WISHES! I WILL JUST LEAVE IT OUTSIDE YOUR DOOR INSTEAD!!! GOODBYE!!!”

Gradually receding footsteps and a nearby slamming door let you know that your visitor has left. You feel like a bit of a jerk, but you’re kind of glad that you don’t have to deal with anyone today.

You undo the chain on the door and crack it open a couple inches more, to see that they have left a large Tupperware on your doormat. You double check to make sure that there's no one around before picking up the box and taking it inside, shoving the door closed with your foot.

It really is quite a large box. You find yourself struggling to get a grip on the thing, before you roughly set it down on the kitchen counter. What on earth could it be?

The curiosity is nudging at you, so you pull off the plastic lid. 

Spaghetti!

Cold, gelatinous spaghetti.

It's almost as though Papyrus had removed this box from the fridge just moments before passing it along to you. Of course, you still appreciate the gesture, but you unfortunately do not have a microwave. This seems to be the point at which your luck has run out.

The question then becomes, how picky can you afford to be? You stare at the pasta, contemplating. It looks decent. Grabbing a fork from one of the drawers, you tentatively work a few strands of pasta away from the rest of the clump and shove it into your mouth. 

It's... not bad. Certainly not good -- the coldness and gelatinous-ness of the dish did not improve the experience by any means -- but overall, it's quite average. Thanks, Papyrus. 

You then realize that you've left the door unlocked, and quickly run back to lock it.  

Exhaustion suddenly flows through you, and you drag yourself back across the room to flop onto the bed. There are no blankets, no sheets, and you didn’t bring a pillow, so you just hope that the mattress isn’t infested with something that you’d rather not know about. You close your eyes and cover yourself as best you can with your jacket. You quickly feel yourself drifting again…

Your eyes shoot open.

You’re frozen.

Lying in a bed, staring up at the ceiling, you’re frozen. You try to move your arms, your legs, try to wiggle your fingers and toes, to no avail. You’re stuck here.

Your eyes dart around the very familiar room. You thought you had gotten out of here, but you’re back. Almost as if nothing had happened. Which must mean…

A sudden banging on the door. You flinch.

His voice slithers its way towards you. “I know you’re in there, kid. I can hear you. Get out here right now. You think you can get away with such blatant disrespect?”

You find yourself wondering what it was that set him off. Your thoughts are soon interrupted by the door slamming open.

He stands in the entrance way. His face is obscured by shadow, not that you needed (or wanted) to see it. You would recognize that silhouette anywhere.

You want to close your eyes, but the fear of something unexpected happening while you're not paying attention keeps them wide open. Nonetheless, you keep your eyes from looking straight at him.

He smacks the doorway in a twisted kind of rhythm. “Do you think! I! Will! Put! Up! With! Insolence!” Your mouth opens, but no sound comes out. Instead, you lie there and hold yourself while tears trickle over the bridge of your nose. He begins to head towards you.

In a voice you don’t recognize, he whispers, “Hey. Wake up.” He approaches you, getting much to close for comfort. “C’mon, already. Wake up.”

“Go away…” you manage to force out. The man suddenly raises his hand, and you flinch. To your surprise, he taps your cheek with his palm. Tap tap tap. Tap. The taps get gradually louder and louder and louder, until they’re booming in your ears…

Covered in a sheen of sweat, heart racing, face wet with tears, you jolt awake to the sound of tapping on the wall beside your bed. Your brain is running purely on adrenaline, so all that you're able to think about for a few moments is the fact that you can’t get away from that house even in your dreams, even halfway across the country.

Your eyes dart around the room, and your hand is latched onto your other wrist, trying to determine if this is now reality. After a few moments, your ears register the sound again. It’s repetitive, and sounds familiar.

..- / --- -.-

Morse… code? Where the hell are you, a 20th-century army base? The tapping starts up again. “U… ok??”

The words make you flush, mortified. Were these walls so thin that your neighbours could hear you having a nightmare? Wait, you had neighbours? Duh. Of course you did. This was a multi-story apartment. As your brain begins to work, you remember that you’ve already met one of them. Kind of.

Urgh.

After taking a moment to collect yourself, you slowly tap back,

.--- ..- ... - / .- / -. .. --. .... - -- .- .-. .

 “Just a nightmare”

The person on the other side pauses for just a beat longer than you find comfortable, and then you hear:

.. / ... . .

“I see”

Turning away from the wall, you bring your hands up to cover your face. What were they insinuating? Were they insinuating anything? No, you were just being paranoid. How could you read into the tone of literal tapping against a wall?

You make a mental note to not leave your apartment tomorrow until after you’re sure your neighbour is gone.

Chapter Text

You’ve managed to survive the past few days on nothing but cold pasta, water, and sleep. By the third morning, though, your stomach is done with you. It pressures you into leaving the house to find some real food. Placing your ear against the wall beside your bed, you decide it’s safe to leave without bumping into your neighbour, and you slowly roll out of bed.

You figure if you’re going to go into a store, it probably wouldn’t be acceptable to wear the same clothes you’ve been wearing for the past week, so you carefully manoeuvre your shirt, pants, and underclothes around your bandages and throw them in a pile on the floor next to your bed. You consider having a shower, but… nah. Instead, you pull on your spare set of clothes and grab your backpack, making sure that small amounts of cash are hidden around your flat before heading out the door.

The building you live in is not particularly big; there are only three floors, and you’re on the last one. For you this is unfortunate, as it means that keeping your anonymity will prove to be much more difficult, but the town you’re staying in is small anyway, and the rent was too low to pass up.

You quickly pass by the other few apartments on your floor in order to access the rickety staircase that takes you down to the ground level. On your way towards the stairs, you notice that they seem to extend past the third floor. It’s not surprising that you didn’t notice this upon your initial arrival, considering the state that you were in, but now it piques your curiosity. You make a mental note to check it out later.

How old is this building? You presume it must have been built more than a few decades ago, taking note of the chipped paint and rusty railings. Or maybe it’s just too cheap of a place to get repairs. Like, ever.

Just as you’re reaching the bottom of the staircase, you hear the distinct sound of a door clicking shut from a few floors above you, and you jerk your head back up in the direction of your flat. You swear you just saw something move, but it only lasted for a flicker of a second, meaning that you did not get a chance to process what it was.

It takes a moment for you to breathe normally again, and you confirm to yourself that you locked your door properly. The noise was probably one of your neighbours, or something. You take another quick glance up at the building, but no one is there.

Whatever. Your stomach reminded you that there were more important things to worry about right now.

You ignore the feeling of being watched.

You’re feeling rather weak (understandably so), making the journey down to town quite the expedition. Luckily for you, because the town is so small, you stumble across a general store quite quickly, and make your way through the aisles with the same amount of speed. You measure out bags of peas, lentils, quinoa, flour… You’re careful to only take small quantities so that you can carry it back up the hell hill, but you make sure that you have enough of the essentials to keep you satiated. After checking how much money is in your pocket, you decide to splurge a little bit and get a small carton of milk as well, plus a chocolate bar that you can eat right away. Goodness knows you need that blood sugar.

Anxious to get out of there as soon as possible, you barely glance at the rabbit monster processing your order, who is unsuccessfully attempting to engage you in conversation. You grab the bag of food as soon as it’s handed to you, thank them, and hold yourself back from sprinting out of the store.

Once you’re outside, you take a moment to remove the chocolate bar from the grocery bag. The time it takes to unwrap the sugary goodness and shove it in your mouth goes by in a blur. You hold it between your teeth as you carefully place the rest of the groceries in your backpack, slinging it over your shoulder.

Distant recollections of your mother telling you not to walk and eat pass through your brain as you do that exact thing. You toss the now empty wrapper into the nearest trash can, and silently throw those memories away with it.

Unfortunately, you still don’t have enough energy to explore, not that there’s much to explore in the first place. Of course, you’re living here now, so you’ll surely get to know this place like the back of your hand soon enough. Right now, though, you need toiletries. Glancing around the area, you spot a drugstore right across the street, and head inside.

Much like the previous store, you quickly find everything you need. It’s not exactly a difficult task, because you didn’t need that many things in the first place. As you pass by the medical supplies, though, your eyes land on boxes of bandages, and you stop in your tracks, and clench your fists slightly. This turns out to be a mistake, and you are swiftly reminded of your injured hand by the searing pain that rips across it. Gritting your teeth, you take your supplies up to the cashier (human, this time) and carry the new bag in your good hand as you exit the store.

You must have gotten out of bed later than you thought, or taken longer to shop than you thought (perhaps a combination of both), because it’s beginning to get dark outside. Part of the reason for this, of course, is that it’s winter, and this town is much further north than where you used to live – but you’re unnerved all the same, and do your best to speed walk back up the hill without tripping over anything or injuring yourself again.

Along the way, you catch yourself being startled by the sound of your own footsteps. And a random bird in the bushes. And a bat swooping overhead.  Don’t be so paranoid, you chide, and keep walking for a minute or two.

It’s hard to chalk up the distinct shape of a human figure in your peripheral vision to paranoia, though. You initially assume it’s just your shadow, but then you notice a slight delay between your steps and those of your silhouette.

You freeze in your tracks, facing away from them. You’re paralyzed; you try to prompt your brain, to get you to move even a little bit forward so you can get away you need to get away—

“heya.”

A low voice snaps you out of your thoughts. You spin around to the source of the sound, and startle backwards upon realizing that there’s a hooded figure right behind you. You take a deep breath in order to suppress the scream that bubbled up in your throat. You’ve been here for less a week and here you are getting into trouble the first time you lay a foot outside. Stupid. You were in for it now.

“whoops,” the figure says, taking a step back themself. They slowly put their hands up in a gesture of peace. “didn’t mean to skullk.”

The tone is so familiarly even and calm that you want to scream. You know that it’s not him, it can’t possibly be him, but you remain in a ready position for anything to happen. It takes a moment for you to process the fact that this person is not actually that big. In fact, they’re shorter than you.

The dim light from the streetlamps reflects off of the figure’s hands, which catches your attention. Upon peering closer, you realise that they’re a monster. A skeleton monster; snickering, with a big freaky grin on their face and white lights where you’d normally expect eyes to be. They’re wearing a blue jacket and basketball shorts, despite it being the middle of winter, and fuzzy... slippers? You’d laugh if you weren’t still functioning on adrenaline and panic. Nonetheless, you feel your mouth twitch slightly.

The skeleton seems to pick up on this, and their grin somehow manages to widen even further. Their hands lower, and one of them moves in your direction, hand outstretched. You stare at it, uncomprehending.

“c’mon, human. don’t you know how to greet a new pal?” they prompt, startling you.

Is it, like, a monster thing to make friends with someone after scaring them half to death? You slowly reach your own quivering hand out. After what seems like an eternity, you grasp the skeleton’s hand in an attempt to shake it, but you’re immediately met with the sound of a loud PPPPFFFFFTTHHHBBBBTTTTT.

The skeleton is no longer making any attempt to hold back their laughter, filling your ears with the sound of deep chuckles. They holds up their hand, revealing a whoopee cushion.

You realize that your mouth is hanging open, and you quickly snap it shut. This seems to make the skeleton laugh harder.

Their laughter is infectious. You find yourself struggling to hold down a giggle yourself, but the realization that you still don’t know what they want with you sobers you up rather quickly.

Your companion seems to take notice of your body language, and straightens up. As if nothing had ever happened, they wink at you and says, “i’m sans. sans the skeleton.”

You nod and mumble out some incoherent reply. Slowly, you take a step backwards, with an iron grip on your bag. But, just like always, your brain and your body are uncoordinated, and you trip over a bump in the sidewalk. You bring your hands up to your head in an effort to brace yourself for the impact of the fall.

When you don’t feel any pain, or any impact at all, you open your eyes. For a second, you question whether you’re alive.   

Your entire body has been encased in what seems like a thick blue fog, and you and your bags hover a few inches off the ground. You can’t move. You jerk your head up to look at Sans.

Unsurprisingly, that grin is back – or did it ever leave in the first place? “woah, be careful. it’s supposed to be winter, not fall,” Sans says, winking at you.

You stare at them, blankly. Somehow only one of their eyes is lit up now, glowing a strange combination of cyan and yellow. You find yourself lost in the swirl of colours.

Sans’ grin falters a bit. “that’s, uh. your cue to laugh. heh.”

“Could you… put me down, please?” you manage.

“yeah, sure. don’t look so blue,” Sans replies, winking again. “in fact, you look like you might need a little pick-me-up.”

You gnaw at your lip. In another situation, you might have broken out an awkward little smile, but this blue stuff was making you feel claustrophobic and overwhelmed. You will yourself not to cry, and say (perhaps a little curtly), “Please. Put me down now, please.”

You and Sans spend another few moments sizing each other up, before Sans wordlessly lowers you to the ground. Your feet and bag land softly on the pavement, but your eyes are still locked with theirs.

“Sorry, uh… Not to be rude or anything. Like, thanks for that. But. I like to have some control over my own body, y’know?” You wiggle your fingers a bit in emphasis.

Sans seems to have enough decency to look embarrassed. “oh, geez. i saw you falling so i kinda did it without thinking—shit. you okay?”

The interruption makes you realize that you have tears running down your face, which you hastily rub away. This was a ridiculous enough encounter as it was, what the hell are you doing bursting into tears? “No, I’m good, man —I mean, uh… dude?”

Sans gives you an exasperated look. “either of those is fine. unless you’re intent on callin’ me ‘bone man.’” They—he, you guess?— snickers again.

Ack. “No, of course—“

“‘i take it you’re not from around here...? never met a skeleton before, eh?”

“Well, I… er, no…?”

“fyi, ‘monster’ is fine. ‘person’, also fine. really doesn’t matter. i’ll tell ya, i’ve been called worse,” he says with a shrug.

Double ack. “Sorry,” you say.

He looks thoughtful for a second. “can’t say i’ve heard that one before.”

It takes a moment for you to process the reply. Once it sets in, a groan escapes your lips before you can stop it. You quickly slap a hand over your mouth, but it’s too late. Sans clearly heard you, and he looks delighted. The lights in his eyes seem to gleam brighter, somehow.

He looks as if he’s about to say something else, but seems to think better of it. Instead, he looks at you and says, “oh, hey. speaking of which, i don’t think i caught your name.”

You contemplate making up a new name to go by in this town, but your brain is fried and you can’t think of a good one, so you decide to just provide him with the information he’s looking for. You then mumble out some lie about having to head home right away, and quickly turn and walk away before you embarrass yourself any further.

The skeleton doesn’t follow you.

Chapter Text

You spend most of the next few days trying to convince yourself to head outside and find a job in town, but a creeping fog from that place in the middle of your head always coerces you back under the covers.

But you’re so bored. There’s not much in your flat to clean, so after the fifteenth scrub of the already spotless floor, you flop onto your back and stare at the ceiling. One of your neighbours is stomping around nearby. You take solace in their presence, despite not knowing who they are (or even really wanting to). You listen carefully for your wall neighbour, and don’t know whether to be relieved or unnerved by the fact that you don’t hear them.

It’s funny: you’re finally free to be alone, free to do whatever you want by yourself, and yet you’re still overcome by an inescapable loneliness, throbbing outwards from deep inside your chest.

If you’re so lonely, maybe you shouldn’t have snubbed all the people you’ve met so far in the town you were hoping to live in. 

Your hands come up to cover your face in an attempt to force the memories out of your brain and make your inner voice shut up. It’s not very effective. The swirling jumble of thoughts and feelings finally gets to you, and you quickly stand up. Maybe too quickly. You have to take a second to steady yourself as the blood rushes to your head.

Come on, you should know this by now. You have to keep yourself busy. You need a routine. You also need money. So, what’s the most obvious course of action here?

Get up.

If your current situation was a bit different, you might have been a little more picky about where you apply to work. As it is, you’re willing to shovel horse poop as long as it pays. The question right now, though, is where you should start your search. Looking online wasn’t an option, since you didn’t have a computer yet - which is also why you’re starting back in the middle of downtown. Plus, Ebott seems to have a high monster population, and they probably wouldn’t be posting jobs on the human internet… you tell yourself, so you don’t have to feel bad about not being able to check. Anyway, wasn’t there some study about how most positions aren’t put up online anyway?

The downtown core looks and feels a little different today. A little less alienating. You decide to start with the shops that you’ve actually been in, so that even if you don’t know them like the back of your hand, you could at least be familiar with them to some degree. You take a quick peek around the general store’s windows, looking for any “Help Wanted” signs. 

Nothing. Maybe you should just suck it up and ask.

Before you can decide what to do next, however, you jump as a rabbit woman appears suddenly in the entranceway, arms crossed in front of her. The shopkeeper.

“You need somethin’?”

“Um…” you say, cleverly. Your eyes flit back and forth between her and the front window. You clench your fists and take a breath. When you look back towards the rabbit woman, to your surprise, her face is not friendly.

“Listen, hun. If you’re not gonna buy nothin’, then I suggest you scoot on home. I ain’t got time for games.”

It takes you a second to clue into the fact that being a human loitering outside a monster’s store looking nervous and shady as hell may not have left a good impression. You quickly put your hands up in front of you. “Oh! Oh, no. I didn’t mean to… I was looking for… I was just wondering if you were, like, hiring?”

You do your best to meet her stern gaze. Even though you were here the other day, you don’t recall ever looking at the shopkeeper properly. She not-so-subtly sizes you up, and her nose and mouth twitch a couple times.

“You said you were lookin’ for work?” she finally says.

You exhale. “Y-yes. You don’t happen to be hiring, do you? Or know anybody who is?”

The shopkeeper looks to the left, thinking.

“My name is ________, by the way,” you add. “I’m new in town. Sorry I didn’t introduce myself the other day… I had a lot on my mind.”

She looks back towards you. “Have you tried Grillby’s?”

“Grillby’s?”

“End of the street.” She makes a vague gesture towards the south. “I hear he’s lookin’ for some help. It’s a bit busier now that we’re up on the surface.”

“Thank you!” You reach a hand out to excitedly shake one of her paws, which she accepts. Your fingers begin to tingle with excitement. “Thank you… um… I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name…?”

Her face finally cracks into a smile. “You can call me Babs.”

“Thanks, Babs! I’ll see you later, I’m sure.”

“I reckon so,” she says, and heads back into the store.

Better get going before she changes her mind about you…

The brightly-lit sign is hard to miss. So is the thick smell of grease in the air. There’s no one around outside, which is unusual… you think, anyway. The building looks like a bar or a pub, and normally there’s people hanging around smoking or chatting in a place like this, right? Although, it is in the middle of the afternoon on a Thursday. You take a deep breath and grab the door handle. The door is quite heavy, but you manage to swing it open and slip inside.

The first thing you notice is the noise… or, rather, the lack of it. The general buzz of conversation that was there as you were walking in has dissipated into a deathly silence. It is also hard to ignore the blatant stares coming from all directions. After a quick scan of the area, you suspect it has something to do with the fact that you are the only human there. 

It is proving difficult to collect yourself under this oppressive atmosphere. You try to tell yourself that they’re just curious and would look at anyone else who just entered in the same way, but since a lot of the looks you are getting are very similar to the one that Babs gave you earlier, you find this hard to believe. You just hope Babs sent you here out of the goodness of her heart and not as a way to get back at you for loitering.

You try to shift your focus from your thoughts to your surroundings. The building is bigger on the inside than you expected it would be. It is also a lot busier. Even though it’s the middle of a weekday, you don’t see a single empty table or booth. There are some free stools at a bar at the back of the restaurant, beside which is a small stage. A vest-wearing fire monster, who is somehow both wearing glasses and cleaning a glass without causing anything to melt, stands behind the bar.

You suppose you should start over there. Slowly but steadily, you ignore the curious looks from the patrons and walk across the restaurant to sit at one of the barstools.

The fire monster says nothing. They seem to be giving you a once-over, which is probably something that you’re going to have to get used to in this town. You feel the stares of a dozen curious monsters on your back.

After an uncomfortable amount of silence, you let out a weak “Hi.” 

“.........”

“Um... By any chance are you Grillby?”

The fire monster nods at you, still wiping the same glass. The chatter among the rest of the pub’s patrons slowly begins to build up again.

“Ah. I see.” You introduce yourself, but don’t shake his hand… because it’s occupied. Not for any other reason. “I, um, heard from Babs that you were looking to hire someone. The lady who runs the general store? Well, you probably already knew that…” You laugh awkwardly. “Well, anyway, she said you were looking for help, which I obviously said already. So, I’m here to, um, fill out an application or something?”

You wish you could turn your running mouth off. Based on Grillby’s lack of response, you suspect that you’ve blown it already, but continue on anyway. “I literally just moved here, so I don’t exactly have a resume with me at the moment, but I can promise you that I’m a fast learner, I work hard, and I’m willing to do anything!”

Someone clears their throat elsewhere in the room, making you realize that your volume has increased slightly over the course of your little rant. Your sudden outburst seems a bit silly, especially since Grillby still has the same… cool demeanor. You backtrack. “Well, that, uh, probably doesn’t mean much coming from a random stranger off the street, but…”

You stare at Grillby intensely, but he is now ignoring you and rummaging under the counter for something. Just as you’re about to get up and huff out of the bar, he slides some papers towards you.

NEW HIRE / EMPLOYEE AGREEMENT

“You’re… hiring me?”

".........Probation."

“Well… Thank you.” You can hardly believe it.  Was that somehow the interview? Did you pass some sort of secret test? Or were monsters just this trusting all of the time?

You realize that you were zoning out and quickly pick up the document. “I can have this back to you ASAP,” you say. “But, um, when should I start?”

He seems to be smiling, though you don’t know how you can tell. “Tomorrow, 5pm,” he says, and heads towards a door that can only lead to the kitchen. You take that as your cue to leave.

On your way home, you decide to walk a bit more slowly. There are all sorts of cool local shops here that you would have never noticed otherwise. A thrift store, a cute little bakery… Across the street you see a “LIBRARBY”, which you assume is meant to be “library”. Tempting… It’s not that late in the day either.

Maybe you should check it out…

You absentmindedly note a child across the street walking by with an almost expressionless face. They seem familiar somehow, but you can’t quite place where you’ve seen them before. Whatever. 

As you’re about to cross the street, the child suddenly whips around and locks eyes with you. Their face has shifted into an emotion that you can’t quite describe, but it scares you. You can’t turn away. Your feet become rooted to the pavement where you stand. The world around you fades into darkness, as though you are the only two people on earth.

Time seems to stand still. For what feels like ages, you and the child stare at each other from opposite sides of the street. Your head begins to pound incessantly, in almost perfect rhythm with your racing heart. 

The child takes a step towards you, in a daze. You feel yourself being compelled to step towards them, as well...

...Until a blaring car horn snaps you out of it. A minivan is heading right towards them, showing no signs of slowing down. You try to yell but no sound comes out. 

STOP!!!

The child freezes in their tracks as the car swerves onto the sidewalk, tires squealing. You somehow gain control of your body again and run towards them. “Are you okay?!” 

They look up at you but don’t respond. You gently lead them out of the road and guide them to sit down on the sidewalk. You don’t know much about first aid, but you remember seeing people on TV being sat down in a similar fashion to recover from shock. Those guys had aluminum blankets or whatever, but... You scan their body for injuries, but there don’t seem to be any. The car must have just narrowly missed them.

As your adrenaline begins to lessen and you get some of your senses back, you hear a noise from behind you and remember the driver. You turn to see a lady slowly emerge from the car. She looks super mad.

“What in the hell are you kids doing playing in the middle of the goddamn street?!”

“Are you alright, ma’am?” You take a few steps towards the woman to be polite but don’t want to get too close because she is near frothing at the mouth. You make sure to stand between her and the child.

“Alright?! Am I alright?? You brats made me total my car!”

You look over at the car in question. It sits next to a lamppost, still running. It appears that she managed to stop the car just in time, but there is a slight dent in the side of the bumper. You also notice something else behind her car that lessens your concern considerably.

“I’m sure your insurance will cover it,” you say, not bothering to keep your tone friendly anymore. “Or maybe they won’t, considering you ran a stop sign and almost hit a child.”

You’ve never seen someone go so red. Before you know it, she is right up in your face. You feel yourself take a step back. Her face is scrunched up into a terrible scowl and her mouth forms nasty words, but you can’t hear them. Everything seems to be moving in slow motion again.

Her arm raises. You close your eyes, waiting.

“Cease this shameful behaviour at once!”

You open your eyes in time to see the driver freeze mid-swing and turn around. Behind her stands a large goat woman with her hands on her hips. Her paws are occupied by grocery bags, but somehow that does not make her any less intimidating.

The child runs out from behind you towards the goat monster and grabs onto her dress. A gentle expression washes over the monster’s face for a split second, but it quickly turns stern again as she turns towards your would-be assailant. 

“Begone with you, before I get the authorities involved.”  Her expression and commanding tone of voice do not leave any room for defiance. The driver glares at her, but slinks back to her car and drives away. I guess her car still works after all.

“What a pitiful woman,” the goat monster says. She runs her paw over the child’s head, fussing over them in a similar fashion as you did a few minutes earlier, and then turns to you. “Are you alright?”

Your brain begins to function again. “Yes. Um… Yes. Thanks.”

“I am Toriel, and this is Frisk.”

Frisk signs “mom” at you.

“...Yes, I am their mother.” Toriel looks at you apprehensively.

You nod. “Oh, cool.” Toriel smiles at your response.

“I must offer my sincerest gratitude to you. I was in the store buying ingredients for dinner this evening. Frisk was supposed to be waiting just outside,” Toriel pauses to give a sharp glare to Frisk, who looks down, thoroughly chastened. ”But when I finished they were nowhere to be seen. By the time I found them I came across this…” She trails off. “I saw how you protected my child from that horrible woman. Thank you.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it… I didn’t even do anything.”

“No, no. I must repay you in some shape or form… Ah! Have you eaten? Please join us for dinner if you have the time. We were expecting guests anyway, so it is no trouble at all. A friend of Frisk’s is a friend of ours. Do you not think so, Frisk?”

Frisk nods and gives you a wide, expectant grin.

“Oh… I, um…” You want to turn the offer down, but Toriel is looking at you with such a genuine expression that you falter. You suspect that both she and Frisk would be quite disappointed if you did not come with them. “...Alright, then.”

“Wonderful!”

She grabs you and Frisk by the hand and leads you along. You expect that this dinner will be… interesting.

Chapter Text

Frisk learns that you understand sign language partway through your journey, after you directly answer a question that they had asked through Toriel. You weren’t exactly trying to hide it, but they assumed you didn’t know and you felt too awkward to directly bring it up. Their gestures become more and more animated as you get closer to your destination. They’re signing so fast that you can mostly just nod along, offering a quick “cool” or “interesting” whenever they look to you expectantly.

Finally, the three of you end up in front of a cottage that looks like something out of Home Magazine 1965 ; painted white walls with a white picket fence, a perfectly green lawn with yellow flowers sitting alongside the edges of the house.

Toriel opens the door. “Frisk, show our guest inside, please.”

Frisk enthusiastically takes you by the hand and leads you inside.

“Welcome to our home.”

The house is just as warm on the inside as it looked on the outside. After removing your shoes, Frisk leads you forwards into a cozy living room. A variety of potted plants you don’t recognize are placed around the house. A stone fireplace burns heartily, but there’s no smell of smoke. Worn brown leather armchairs sit facing each other, across from a matching loveseat, where what looks to be a hand-knitted throw blanket rests. Framed pictures seem to be placed or hung wherever they can fit. Frisk and Toriel. Frisk holding a medal. Frisk flipping a pancake. Frisk dancing. Frisk with a bunch of monsters. They look happy.

It’s the polar opposite of your cold, empty apartment.

You hear footsteps behind you, and remember Toriel and the groceries. You follow Toriel into the kitchen, watching as she busied herself by sorting through the bags. This time it’s colourful paintings and drawings hung on the walls. You can barely look anywhere without being reminded of life and love and joy and family.

You clear your throat. “Can I help you with anything, Toriel?”

Toriel turns and smiles at you. “Oh, goodness, no. Thank you, dear, but you are a guest. Go wait with Frisk while I prepare dinner.”

“O-okay…” You hesitate.

“Come along, now.” Toriel takes you by the hand, leads you back to the living room, and, before you can blink, disappears into the kitchen once more. 

Frisk, by way of contrast, seems to be happy you’re here. They gesture towards the loveseat, and you sit tentatively. You don’t have much time to think as they place various toys and items in your hands. You ooh and ahh at each one, despite barely registering what it is before Frisk takes it away and replaces it with something else. Just as you start to wonder where all this stuff is disappearing to, Frisk takes a shiny rock from you, and backs away slightly.  

“I’m going to freshen up,” they sign with a wink, before heading down a hallway and leaving you alone again. Did they just… flirt with you? Frisk can’t be much older than 10, so you’re not really sure whether to find that endearing or just weird. End-weir-ing? You decide to just stop thinking about it, close your eyes, and nestle yourself into the most comfortable couch in the world. You begin to relax…

“heya.”

“JESUS CHRIST!” Your eyes fly open and you see Sans the Skeleton standing in front of you. Grinning.

“it’s sans, actually.”

Did he just… You have to hold yourself back from rolling your eyes… or punching him in the face.

You hear pans clatter in the kitchen, and Toriel comes into the room a second later. “Is everything alright?!” she exclaims. Seeing who is beside you, she lets out a sigh. “Oh, Sans. I do hope that you are not ‘owning’ our guest.”

“hey, tori.” Sans says. “thought i was your guest tonight.”

“Well, now you are both our guests. This is ________.”

“i guest that makes sense.” He winks. 

Toriel raises a paw to her mouth and tinkles out a laugh. “I will leave you two to it, then. Dinner will be ready soon.” With that, she heads back into the kitchen.

You and Sans observe each other for a moment in a tangible silence.

Sans breaks it first. “so… are you always this jumpy, or is it just me?”

You grimace. “Um, yeah… I kind of have a low tolerance for being snuck up on.”

“noted. i’ll try not to be such a creep next time.”

Okay, that was definitely on purpose. You have to purse your lips and squint to keep from smiling. It only seems to encourage him. Sans snickers to himself before going to sit in one of the lounge chairs across from you.

“what can i say? i’m a la-z-boy,” he says, as he relaxes, almost deflates, back into the chair.

You grimace. “You’re sofa-nny…” You trail off and try to pretend that didn’t just come out of your mouth. By the look on Sans’ face, that’s not going to happen. Giving him a disapproving look isn’t working so well either. You feel your resolve slowly weakening. Although your first meeting was not the most pleasant experience, it’s hard to keep your guard up around this guy. You’re in danger of laughing.

To your relief, he changes the subject. Safe. 

“so, where’d tori pick you up from?”

Oh god, maybe not. You were kind of hoping to never be reminded of your first encounter with Sans ever again. You try to respond as normally as possible. 

“We, um, literally just met on the street. Frisk almost got hit by a car and then this lady got mad even though it was actually her fault to begin with…” you stop yourself from rambling. “Um… and then Toriel showed up and scared her away.”

“heh. sounds like tori. especially if frisk was involved.”

“Yeah, I kind of got a ‘mama bear’ impression.”

“mama goat.”

The corners of your mouth quirk upwards. “More like maa-ma goat…” you say under your breath.

Sans laughs in surprise. “i herd that.”

Oh no. Despite your best efforts to keep a straight face, your nose scrunches up and you have to huff out a laugh.

“got ya.”

You give Sans a shy smile. “I-”

THUMP THUMP THUMP. You both look up to see Frisk run into the room and stop in the doorway. Their excitement escalates as they look from you to Sans and back again and stomp their feet.

Sans raises a hand to his chest in mock offense. “do you mind? we’re having a mom-ent here,” he says, winking at you.

Frisk scrunches up their face and puts their hands on their hips.

“just kid-ding. hey, pal.” Sans doesn’t move from his chair, but raises his arms slightly upwards.

Frisk grins and launches themself at Sans. Sans quickly grabs them under the armpits and holds them above his head, like a figure skater doing the Titanic pose. Frisk giggles the whole time before Sans sets them down on the floor facing him. 

With their back turned to you, Frisk quickly signs something to Sans, and looks around the room.

“couldn’t make it. got another session tonight.”

Frisk’s shoulders slump.

“nah, pretty sure it was a last-minute thing. he’ll tell you 'bout it, i’m sure.”

You’re starting to feel a little uncomfortable not being able to follow half the conversation. You look towards the kitchen and debate whether it would be more awkward to sit here by yourself or get up and go try to help Toriel again.

You’d only be in her way.

A soft pat on your leg startles you out of your thoughts. Frisk is trying to get your attention. 

“This is my dunkle Sans,” they sign. 

...Dunkle? You decide not to ask, but give them a quick, uncomfortable smile anyway. “Yeah, we’ve actually met before.”

Frisk tilts their head to the side slightly and purses their lips, but doesn’t get time to say whatever was on their mind. 

“Is that Frisk I hear?” Toriel calls from the kitchen.

“yeppers,” Sans replies, just barely raising his voice.

“Oh, good. I have just finished preparing our meal. It will be ready in just a moment.”

“Dinner START!” Frisk signs at you. .

Dinner starts out a bit awkwardly, to your non-surprise. You’re not sure if it’s fortunate or unfortunate that Frisk led you to the small, square table rather than the humongous banquet table behind you. Although you don’t have to worry about where to sit, you also now have no way of avoiding anyone at the table. Frisk sits across from you, Toriel to your right, and Sans to your left.

Toriel is explaining the food on the table, and you do your best to pay attention. Your brain has other plans, and wanders off into the sunset. Luckily for you, Toriel has already handed you a plate. It seems like you and Frisk get the casserole, while her and Sans get the pie. So, there’s monster food and human food. You feel like you knew that already, but can’t remember what the difference is. Now you’re curious, but asking would expose you, so you hold back. Why can’t you just listen when people are talking to you?

“Sans, will you do the honours?” Toriel says. Uh-oh. Did you miss the monster dinner etiquette debrief as well?

Sans closes his eyes, but Toriel doesn’t, so you keep yours open as well. He inhales, then says in a serious tone, “bone appétit.”

Toriel laughs again while you just feel silly, but you’re glad it was just a joke. The atmosphere is friendly and comfortable as Toriel leads the dinner discussion by telling Sans more about what her and Frisk were up to today. You busy yourself with eating, but try to keep a Polite and Interested Dinner Guest expression on your face.

Your strategy seems to work, and Toriel seems perfectly happy to carry most of the conversation. After a while, Sans changes the topic and speaks to Frisk directly. “so, buddo, how’s the ambassadoring? not too ambassa-boring?”

Frisk giggles, and gives an answer while the gears in your brain are still turning to process the question. Finally, they click. The Monster Ambassador!? Duh! That explains the déjà vu from earlier. You’ve seen this kid in the news. When monsters first emerged from the Underground, the Monster Ambassador was described as the key to avoiding complete and utter chaos. Images of such a young child being friends with and protecting monsters moved the world to acceptance, and they were integrated into society, although it hadn't been long since then, so you had never really seen monsters outside of Ebott. 

It seems pretty clear from the harmony at the table that Frisk has a great relationship with both Toriel and Sans. Even though the table is square, you feel several feet of distance between yourself and the others. 

Why are you even here? 

A sudden silence alerts you to the fact that the rest of the table has ceased their conversation, and you look up from your food to find that everyone’s attention is on you. Toriel smiles patiently, and you realize that she was asking you a question. She generously repeats herself. “So, ______, I hear that you are new in town. From where do you come?”

You hesitate a little before answering.

“Goodness me! That’s miles away, is it not?”

“Umm, yeah.” You laugh uncomfortably and give a little shrug.

“How did you find yourself in Ebott? Do you have family here?”

“No, uh… Some… stuff happened, and then I kind of, like, just decided to… start over, I guess? Yeah.”

Frisk looks tense. They are almost stock still again. Maybe this is just a thing with them? Meanwhile, Toriel looks a bit confused, and opens her mouth as if to ask another question. You really hope she doesn’t. They should all just leave you alone .

You inhale sharply as a sharp pain shoots through your head, along with a wave of dizziness. You rest your arm on the table and hold your head up in your hand.

“Goodness me, are you alright?”

You jolt and look through your fingers up at Toriel, who seems concerned. As a matter of fact, everyone at the table seems concerned. Frisk is still frozen in their seat, but… they appear to be in a different position, and even tenser than before. Even Sans’ unbreakable smile has lessened a few degrees, although his attention is not on you — he’s staring at Frisk. 

“Sorry, I’m fine,” you assure Toriel. “I just felt a bit… funny all of a sudden.”

There’s a moment’s pause. Then: “join the club.” 

The tension in the atmosphere snaps like a rubber band, propelling you back to normal. Toriel laughs. You hold yourself back from rolling your eyes, but Sans seems to tell that you thought it was funny regardless. Frisk remains motionless.

“All jokes aside, you look terribly pale, my dear.”

Frisk, who has finally emerged from their reverie, turns and signs something Toriel.

“What a wonderful idea, Frisk!” Toriel turns back to you. “Please, stay here for the night to recuperate.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t…”

Frisk signs to you, but their hands are trembling and moving too fast for you to entirely follow along. Based on their expression, you guess that the message is “I INSIST!” As if to emphasize their point, they grab you by the hand and pull.

You jerk backwards. “No!”

Three faces full of shock and concern surround you. If only there was a hole you could jump into and hide in forever.

“…… S-sorry. No, thank you. I really should be heading home anyway. It’s late. I’ve already imposed enough as it is, I can’t possibly-”

 You are startled into silence as Frisk pats your hand. “Don’t worry,” they sign. “It’s okay.”

Toriel looks like she wants to say something else but decides against it. “Perhaps we should call it a night then. Come, I will drive you home. Sans, do you wish to come along as well?”

“...nah. you know how i feel about driving. just don’t have the stomach for it.”

The concern on Toriel’s face has disappeared as she laughs again. You hate to interrupt, but...

“Um… would you mind if I used your washroom first?”

“Oh, of course.” She is still smiling. “It is just down the hall.”

After washing your hands and splashing water on your face, you hear urgent whispers coming from outside. You don’t need to strain your ears to know that it’s Sans. 

“don’t give me that... saw you…” There is a pause. “...not angry, just tell me…”

You open the door. At the end of the hallway, Sans and Frisk stand very close together. They both jerk their heads up towards you at the sound of the door creaking open. The lights in Sans’ eyes gleam intensely, and you can’t tell if it’s with surprise or fear. Before you can say anything, he quickly turns and disappears around the corner.

What’s up with him?

Frisk comes over to you and smiles innocently. “I came to make sure you wouldn’t get lost on the way back.” 

“Ah. Uh, thanks.”

True to their word, Frisk leads you where Toriel is now washing up dishes. The entire trip takes about 15 seconds. Frisk runs up to hug her from behind, almost bouncing backwards from the recoil.

“Oof!” Toriel pats Frisk on the head before turning to you. “Are you ready to go?” She asks. “You just missed Sans, I’m afraid. He had to go home immediately to read his brother a bedtime story.”

“Oh…” You’re not quite sure what to say. You clearly offended him, somehow. You intruded on their evening and then ruined it. Typical. “Yeah, I’m ready. Sorry for everything.”

"There is no need to apologize! Frisk, will you be alright by yourself, or do you wish to come along with us?” From the look on Toriel’s face, she hopes for the latter.

Frisk just pats her hand. “I’ll be fine. I’m almost 10.”

Toriel sighs resignedly. This is clearly not a new conversation in their household. “Alright.” She sighs again, before looking back at you and gasping, hand flying to her mouth. “Oh, my stars! You really do not look well. Are you sure you do not wish to stay?”

You try to smile. “I just need some rest at home and I’ll be fine. Thanks.”

Toriel puts her paw on your forehead. It’s such a simple gesture, but a lump forms in your throat at the warmth of it. 

“Let us get you home, then.”

It’s dark. Impossibly dark, no matter which way you turn. Your eyes try to adjust to the darkness, but it only seems to be getting darker.

“ You .” The voice does not seem to come from a particular direction, but you sense someone right behind you. You spin around, eyes darting back and forth, trying to see, to no avail. 

“That is twice now.”

You blink. Your confusion outweighs your fear, if for a moment. “T-twice? What’s twice?”

“How are you doing it? It should not be possible.”

“Doing what?”

“You are not even aware of it? How interesting .” A chill runs up your spine. “Well, it matters not. You need to stop.”

Your mouth moves before your brain can interfere. “How can I stop doing something I’m not even aware–?” Wrong thing to say. Bad, bad thing to say. You feel, rather than hear, a low growl before you’re even finished talking.

“ Y̵͉͊o̷̩͂ṵ̴͒'̴̰͌r̶͓͋ȩ̸̛ ̴̥͆n̸̦̉o̸̤̍t̶̪̎ ̴̲̎m̸͍̎e̴̩͊ḁ̶͊n̴̼̅ẗ̷́ͅ ̷͍̚t̶͔̋ō̵̬ ̵͇̌ḃ̸̞ḛ̴͝ ̸̥̿h̵̳͠ḙ̶̓r̸̤̉ê̵̘! ̶̦͝L̵̰̇Ē̸͖A̶̡̕V̷̲͑E̵̝͛!̵̠̓”

You wake up with a scream caught in your throat. Evidence of your nightmare is in your sweat and tears, but, strangely, you can’t recall the dream itself. You’re not sure whether to be grateful or unnerved.

A tapping on the wall startles you. Ah, yes. Your naval neighbour. “U - ok”

“Yeah,” you lie. 

“Ok” they tap back after a moment. 

It takes a while for you to get back to sleep.

Chapter Text

“By any chance do you sell pens? Or pencils?”

You’re back in the general store, one of the only places in Ebott that you’ve felt comfortable entering by yourself. Yesterday’s events made you completely forget that you were supposed to have a signed form back to Grillby today. You slept in by accident, thoroughly exhausted, and now you only have about an hour before you’re supposed to come in.

Babs is looking at you incredulously. By the expression on her face, you’re missing something obvious.

When it becomes clear that you’re not going to take the hint, she raises an eyebrow at you and pointedly looks to her right, where there is an entire shelf of stationary and writing utensils.

“Oh.” You laugh awkwardly. “Thanks. I’ll just take one of these...” You take a single ballpoint pen from a bucket of them and put it on the counter.

“That’ll be 25 cents,” she says, trying not to laugh. You feel a bit ridiculous.

You rummage through your pockets to find a quarter. “Here.”

“It went well at Grillby’s yesterday, then?”

“Huh?”

Babs nods at the papers sticking out of your bag.

“Oh. Yeah. Yeah! Thank you so much, again...” You look down at the papers and your new pen. Maybe you can just find a bench somewhere.

She seems to read your mind, or perhaps just your facial expression. “Library’s open.”

It’s a bit disappointing that you can’t properly enjoy your first visit to the library. The “librarby”. Seeing the sign again makes you snort, before you remember the last time you considered going to the library. Nope, nope, nopety nope. New day. No more of that. You push open the doors. At the entrance desk is a lizard monster, who greets you: “Yes, we know. The sign is still misspelled.” Despite the typo, the interior is beautiful and comfortable; everything you could want from a library. It’s not a huge place, but there are several tables and comfortable-looking chairs, bookshelves… Two computers are both in use. Sunbeams shine through several large windows, brightening up the building even further.

There’s a single empty table in the corner. Lucky! You quickly fill out the required forms, although some of the questions make you pause – “what's your favourite colour”? “How many monster friends do you have”? Thinking of yesterday's dinner disaster, you cringe and shakily write a “0”. You let out a sigh after completing everything, before taking one more longing glance around the building and heading back to Grillby’s.

Knowing for certain that you’re in the right place makes it easier to swing open the door the second time, but the discomfort still sits deep in your gut. Grillby stands behind the bar, looking almost as if he hadn’t moved since your last visit. You keep your head up and feign confidence as you pass tables of patrons and approach the fire monster. You’re allowed to be here. You’re supposed to be here. Be cool!

“H-hello.” 

Shit.

“How are you?” Not much better. Grimacing, you hand him the stack of signed papers, which you only now see are slightly rumpled. He nods at you despite your flub and reaches under the counter to hand you a black apron. “Thanks,” you say, and put it on. “Um… so, what exactly do you want me to do? I’ll do anything. Wash dishes, serve…”

Grillby walks off without a word again, heading into the back room. You wait, back turned to those you will inevitably have to face. He emerges again with two plates, holding what look like two average, plain burgers but smell like the most delicious thing you've ever experienced. He holds the plates out to you, and you take them. They're not hot, only pleasantly warm. Grillby nods over at a table in the back, where two monsters are clearly waiting for their food. It's not hard to put two and two together, and you start your shift with an awkward introduction.

While intimidating at first, the task gets easier as you go from table to table, running food and filling up drinks. At first, patrons seem apprehensive as you approach them. But they soon notice you going to other tables and seem to pick up on what you’re doing, and it doesn’t take long until they talk to you as soon as you walk up to them.

Monsters, at least most of them, are surprisingly chatty – talking to them appears to be a part of your work, which doesn't pose a problem until one of them asks you what it feels like to have blood and skin. You laugh awkwardly, giving some sort of response, and go back to the bar to help with washing up.

Grillby seems to pick up on your discomfort as he dries a glass. “...Excuse them. Humans aren’t common here.”

“Ah… yeah. I figured that out last time. Are you sure it’s okay for me to be here?”

He tilts his head at you in what you take to be confusion. For the second time today, you feel like you’re not in the loop, but this time no one helps you figure out the answer.

Looking to the side in embarrassment, you realise that there’s now someone sitting on the other side of the bar that wasn’t there before. Their hood is up and their figure is sort of slouched. You walk over, and, having gotten into a bit of a groove just before, introduce yourself. 

“Hi, I just started working here, and oh my god?!” you cut yourself off as Sans raises his head and his hood falls down.

“aren’tcha gonna introduce yourself?” His grin is more a flash of teeth than a smile. Cold. Sharp. "just kidding." He nods towards the stool beside him.

“Um… I'm working?”

“part of working is taking breaks, no?”

You look around for Grillby, who nods when you make eye contact.

Fine. Whatever. You take a seat, only for a huge fart to resound through the restaurant. Your face heats up but you, unfortunately, are unable to hold back the incredulous giggle that spills out of you as you glare at Sans.

“oh, man. guess the weirdos who put whoopee cushions on the seats followed us to the surface. gotta be careful out here.”

“I can’t believe you!”

“i guess you could say you’re…”

“Don’t you dare.”

“blown away?”

You drag your hands down your face and sigh deeply. It gives you a moment to secretly smile.

But only a moment. It fades quickly as you begin to wonder why Sans has asked you to sit with him. A quick look at the skeleton in question suggests that he may be trying to figure that out as well. He picks up a napkin holder in front of him, examining it. Thinking.

You run your hand across your mouth and exhale. “Listen, you’ve probably noticed, but I’m a bit out of practice with the whole social situations thing. And the monsters thing. So if I did anything wrong, yesterday or before, I just want to apologise.”

He gives you a sidelong glance, eyebrow raised. “hm?” The napkin holder, which he had been turning, stills.

“I didn’t mean to cut the whole party short yesterday. I really don’t know what happened – it’s pretty embarrassing.”

He sets down the box. “heh. yeah. don’t you wish sometimes that you could just do everything over again?” He's looking away from you, towards the restaurant. Distant.

This ‘clearly missing a chunk of the conversation’ pattern is getting a bit tiring, but you do your best to respond anyway. “Um… I definitely wish I at least had the foresight to know I wasn’t feeling well. I’m, uh, fine now, though.”

He gives you one more long once-over, before seeming to get over... whatever it is. “hm. well, it’s not like you had any ill intentions.”

“No, I guess n— are you serious.”

Sans snickers and grins at you. Somehow, you feel like it’s the first time you’ve seen it in a while.

A few days later, just as you think you've got the hang of everything, a customer taps you on the shoulder from behind and you jump, dropping an entire tray. It's a mess. Food and glass everywhere. In your panicked haste to clean up, you then cut yourself on one of the shards. Again. You can't offer anything to Grillby except your sincere apologies, which you give, shakily. He tells you to go home early.

So stupid.

After giving your apron back you quickly exit the restaurant, eyes burning, and head toward home. In your haste, you don't see someone else walking just as fast around a corner. Backwards.

“Oof!”

Both of you fall to the ground; you on your butt, the other flat on their face.

“Oh, shit!” You reach over to help them, before seeing that they don’t have any arms. Before you can ask if they need assistance, they spring back up and look around excitedly. “Uh... you okay?”

“Yup!!” The child shoots you a wide grin, but a layer of gravel gives away their recent facial explorations of the pavement.

“Eurgh. Sorry... I should’ve been paying more attention. Oh, geez.” You rifle through your bag for a tissue as more heat prickles behind your eyes. This is just not a good day. "Hold still," you say, as you reach to wipe away debris.

“HEY!! YOU!!!”

You flinch backwards in surprise and look around. The voice seems to belong to the angry, angry fish woman storming toward you. Perhaps it's time to dip.

“Yo, Undyne, what are you doing here?”

Undyne is giving you the scariest look you’ve seen since you moved to Ebott. The fish monster towers over you, getting between you and the monster child. “What’s going on here?” Her quiet voice is somehow more scary than her thunderous roar.

The monster child peeks out from behind Undyne. “I just bumped into them. Chill, yo!”

You extend your hand, trying your best to stop the trembling. “Hi, Undyne. I’m _____.” 

Undyne’s eyes slide down to your trembling hand and remain there, making you sweat, before she grins and shakes it firmly. “Ha!! You’re quaking in your boots, but looking right at my face!”

It seems like a compliment, but somehow doesn't feel that way.

“Sorry,” Undyne continues. “We have to be careful - you know how it is.”

“Hey, not cool, Undyne!! You know what Frisk says about making assumptions about humans!!”

“You guys know Frisk, too?” you ask.

“Hell yeah!!" Undyne exclaims. "You're their friend? That explains a lot...“ she mutters. “I guess I should apologise properly, then... I know!! Come to my house and I’ll make you dinner! What’s your number??”

“Oh. I, uh, don't have one. Sorry.”

“WHAT?!?” A human couple across the street startles at the noise, looking over. Undyne glares at them, and they scamper away. She turns back, speaking in a quieter tone. “Why not?!”

“...Didn’t need one, I guess.”

“DIDN’T NEED–!!!!” Undyne pauses to take a breath while looking at you incredulously. “Wait. Is that normal for humans?”

“Haha.. Well…” You're not really sure what to say. Would she believe you if you said yes?

She seems to grow impatient as you falter on your words. Looking around, she seems to notice where you are.

“You come here often?”

“Y-yeah, I, uh, just started working at Grillby’s.”

“Huh. Okay. Keep… working here.” And with that, Undyne is off, dragging the monster child by the collar away with her.

That was... weird.

You don't even realize that the tears threatening to spill over had evaporated until you're back at home.