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Sometimes, you can fall in love so gradually that you don't even know it's happening.
Sometimes, love is a lot of small things that add up to a realization.
Love can be a smile across a room, a familiar glance and a warm feeling in your soul.
Love can be your favorite drink, ready for you before you even ask for it.
A listening ear, a lingering touch, a gentle nudge.
And sometimes, it takes much too long to notice.
* * * * * *
Sans had been going to Grillby's for many years now. It made sense- the closest bar to home, everyone's favorite, with comfort food and plenty of alcohol. He'd spent the occasional night at Mettaton's hotel, an afternoon at Muffet's cafe that secretly sold drinks after a certain time, but nothing had his loyalty like Grillby's.
The fire monster ran a tight ship, despite being the only member of staff and servicing all of Snowdin all by himself. It was always clean, warm, smelled nice, and the food was never overdone or soggy. Sans enjoyed the social atmosphere, both at quiet lunches for his extended breaks, and the crowded late night visits, when sometimes there was barely a spare seat in the place.
Grillby always had a drink ready for him as soon as he approached the bar. He'd greet him with a pleasant nod and ask if he was ready to pay his tab. Sans would ask for a burger and make vague excuses. They both knew the tab wouldn't be paid that night. It was a longstanding tradition to let it be.
Sans would chat with the bartender and watch the monsters around him as they played poker, drank, talked, laughed. Sometimes he'd join in. Grillby would always be there, gravitating back to his glass to refill it and chuckle at Sans' puns in a long-suffering, but fond way. It was the way of the world. Well, Sans' world.
"You seem thoughtful," Grillby murmured, just loud enough to be heard over the noise of the bar. Sans straightened up, realising he'd been slouching and staring into his drink.
"Do I? Funny that, considering how hollow the old noggin is," he chuckled, knocking his knuckles lightly against his skull. The fire monster only smiled and turn away to grab a cloth to wipe the bar down with. Sans knew it was probably more to make him look busy than a desire to clean. As a brother-labeled lazybones, he could appreciate that.
"You didn't answer my question," came the soft, deep voice.
"You didn't really ask one," he returned, tipping his glass back to finish it off and holding it out for a refill that Grillby was already bringing over. The liquid sloshed into the glass, disturbing the half melted ice cubes. Sans didn't intense to sound so short (ha!) with Grillby, but he was a few drinks in and the familiar haze was kicking in, the perfect amount to cover any pesky feelings that might decide to bubble up at an inopportune time.
He had this bad habit of starting to feel unusual things if he looked at Grillby for too long. Sort of like going blind if you looked too long at the sun, or something. He'd read about that once and felt it almost applied. Drinking helped a little bit. Too bad the two often went hand in hand. Grillby and alcohol, that is.
"What's on your mind, Sans?"
The smaller monster looked up again, only to find that the bar was quieter, less crowded. He's spent a little too long spacing out again, it seemed. Time didn't quite make sense to him, it hadn't for a long time, and this happened often. His glass was empty, that would probably explain it. "Huh?"
"I asked, what's on your mind?" Grillby repeated, calmly polishing a glass as he watched him. He shook his head slight when Sans held out his glass, signifying that he was cut off. This was also a frequent occurrence.
"Nothin," Sans grumbled, slumping against the bar with his hoodie over his skull. A lie, and an easy one he'd been telling for many years. "It's all empty space up there. Nothin interesting."
"I know that's a lie," Grillby chuckled, setting the glass down and leaning on the bar, close to Sans. It was an unusual treat to see him act so casual. "I've been serving you for a long time, Sans. I think I can tell when there's something on your mind."
"You can't see everything..." he mumbled, slouching lower. He was sleepy, and he knew he'd fall into a comfortable, drunken stupor soon enough. Anything to get Grillby's warm arms around him to carry him home. It was tradition, after all.
"I think I have a good view of the situation," the other returned.
"Oh yeah? I bet you think I come here for the burgers," Sans scoffed, tipping back his glass for the last remaining drop of liquor, hoping it could be the one to send him to sleep.
"I bet you think I'm just a good bartender." Grillby gave him a smile, his smouldering face still calm. It was infuriating. And handsome. "Fetching your drink before you even walk in the door, talking to you more than everyone else who demands my attention at the bar, carrying you home when you drink yourself unconscious. Just doing my job..."
Sans felt like his tongue was weighing him down. Still, determined not to be outdone in whatever weird little contest they seemed to have going now, he turned to face him. "And I'm just a loyal customer. Coming in for burgers and drinks and keeping you entertained. That's all that keeps me coming back, your face or your arms or your voice... where was I going with this?"
Grillby looked at him for what felt like hours, quirking a smile, before pulling back and turning away. "There you go. That's what's on your mind. I think it's quite interesting after all."
"Huh?" Sans felt like he had been caught out, but he wasn't sure how. He just wanted to lie down.
"Admitting that you're just a loyal customer. Interesting."
"But I'm not."
Grillby turned back towards him, quirking a brow. "You're not?"
"Of course not." He laughed, as if it was obvious. "You think I only come to the bar every night just for the food? It's great food, but it's not the reason. I don't come just for the food and drink, Grillby, I come for you! I thought you'd have figured it out by now, if you're so smart!"
Grillby laughed then, a low chuckle that made his flames ripple above his head. "I know, Sans. I worked it out a long time ago. I was waiting for you to tell me yourself."
"What?" His soul felt like it was going to fly out of his chest, it was beating so fast.
"Did you think I was carrying you home every night for fun, Sans?"
It started to dawn on him that he was in a scenario just like those romcoms Papyrus liked to watch. If his brother was here, he'd probably be watching with rapt attention. Maybe some popcorn. He cleared his throat unnecessarily, squinting a bit. The conclusion was right there, but it seemed too far fetched.
"Dude, are you saying you like me?"
"No, Sans," came the amused reply. "I'm saying I love you."
Sans felt like he short-circuited for a second, while the words made it into his soul and lodged there, like a dagger, but pleasantly. He had to take a moment to process them.
"Are you alright?"
"Yeah," he answered faintly, waving the other off like he'd been asked about a slight headache. "Fine. Uh... You love me?"
"Yes."
"Oh."
"Do you have anything else to say to that?"
"Yeah."
Grillby waited, and Sans brought his glass to his teeth, before remembering it was empty. Probably for a best, he didn't want to collapse when confessing his love to the bartender.
"I feel the same. I uh- you know."
"I do." Grillby smiled, flames burning higher, and moved around the bar to approach Sans. The skeleton turned, swaying a little as the movement made him light-headed, and the fire monster held out a hand. "Come on. Don't fall."
"Huh?" He took Grillby's hand and slipped off the stool, confused. "What are you- I don't think I can stay awake long enough for... Whatever you're planning."
"I'm taking you home, Sans." Grillby gave his hand a squeeze and led him out of the bar and into the snow outside. "Would you rather I carry you like usual?"
Sans was silent, most definitely wanting to say yes.
With a chuckle, Grillby bent down to pick him up, cradling the skeleton in his warm, strong arms and taking the familiar path through the snow towards Sans' home. Sans rested against his chest, smiling as he started to catch up on what had just happened. "Grillbz?"
"Yes, Sans?"
"You wanna date?"
"Yes, Sans."
"Cool."
When he was delivered back home, unlike every other night, Grillby didn't knock and wait for Papyrus to come and take the skeleton off his hands, but set Sans down on the porch. Sans took the opportunity to pull the fire monster down for a kiss. And that was that. No fanfare, just a simple question with a simple answer.
"We'll talk tomorrow," Grillby said finally, when he had pulled away and was idly stroking Sans' cheekbone. "When you're sober."
"Ok." Sans smiled, his sockets lidded as he leaned into the touch.
"I have to go."
"Ok."
Sans watched Grillby stalk through the snow, a bright imposing figure, and headed inside with a giddy grin.
Love can take a long time to notice, but when you do... it's worth it.