Chapter Text
The facade of Grillby’s is hotter than usual. So hot in fact, that you feel as though you could burn yourself just by touching the brick walls. This is undeniably a Big Fucking Problem (TM) because the last time you remember Grillby getting worked up enough to nearly melt the windows was when he had to throw out some humans that were harassing his niece.
The strangest part? The bar isn't open. There doesn't tend to be a lunch crowd during the weekdays, so Grillby doesn’t open until 4:30 p.m. It’s currently 4:16. Whatever is going on is making your plan of an easy Tuesday shift after working in the dusty city library basement all day go down the drain. Quickly.
Not being able to sneak a peak through the heavily fogged-up windows, you finally decide to suck it up a find out what’s got your boss all worked up. You pull open the front door of the bar, more timidly than you care to admit. The mystery of what’s going on in there is stressing you out.
Before fully entering, you announce yourself with a greeting, “Hey, Uncle. What uh— What’s got you all hot and bothered?” Now probably isn’t the time to joke but what else can you do?
As soon as you’re through the door you—not at all subtly—eye the room for evidence of... something. The tables are as clean as ever. The chairs and barstools are all in their proper places. You don’t see any bodies or burn marks either, so you can at the very least rule out a fight. Maybe a break-in? As your inspection concludes, your eyes look to Grillby for answers. Instead of finding the gaze of a certain fire Monster, you see a certain skeleton regular turned half around to look at you.
“Sans? Where’ve you been man? It’s been what, like nearly a month? Want a drink?” Talk about a surprise. You haven’t seen this guy in person in weeks. You don't do much to hide your excitement and quickly the tense situation takes the backseat as you focus fully on seeing a buddy for the first time in a while. You shed your coat and thoughtlessly take a seat next to Sans. It's only until you're a mere arm's reach away from Grillby's blistering form do you remember where you are and what's happening.
“uh, no. i’ll pass this time bud.” Sans is sweating bullets. Your boss doesn’t seem to be faring much better.
“Alrighty. Are y’all in the middle of something? I can go—” You don't like confrontations you aren't involved in. If you can save yourself from playing the part of the awkward third wheel you'd like to take it thank you very much!
“yeah, maybe that’s b—” You are already halfway off the barstool before Grillby cuts in.
“No…… stay… Take a seat please.” A stern popping and spitting of living flame cuts Sans off, without room for debate.
“Something up?” You ask, getting very nervous very quickly. You're starting to really want to go home.
“...Start from the beginning... Sans.”
“hey, grilbz, i don’t know if this is the best idea.”
“...Then my answer is no…” Sans makes a weird, pained face. You mindlessly start picking at some frayed threads on your coat.
“fine, fine. i just need a tiny favor from you two. i was working on a personal project that went a little haywire.” Okay? Does he need money?
“Meaning what exactly?” You ask. Sans can be so cryptic sometimes.
“i’m getting to that. the machine—well you don't know what that is—ugh i’d rather be doing laundry right now. look, the long and short of it is that i made a ‘science oopsie’ and now alternate versions of my bro and i are here. in this universe, i mean. as opposed to the ones they came from.”
“…Uh” What? He has to be testing some new material on you or something. You wish you knew how to read the skeleton better.
“listen you really don’t need to—”
“What the fuck.” You look to Grillby for some indication that this is a weird joke but the chaotic flickering of his flames is no comfort.
“yeah, i know. it’s a lot.”
“No like— I— What’s even the proper response to something this? I can’t even convince myself this is all some elaborate prank because Grillby is about to destroy all the booze just by his pure radiant heat. I’m a little lost as to how I’m expected to act here man. And don't think I didn't hear what Grillby said. What does ‘the answer is no’ mean?"
“oh, yeah. that.”
“…… Sans wants me... to keep his little mistake... a secret.”
You look to Sans and say, “I feel like it would’ve been easier if you never said anything in the first place.” Sans only squirms a bit under your gaze before looking to Grillby.
“...That’s part of it… He wants this to be a… safe place for his alternates to come…”
“for the record, i said ‘familiar’. but yeah, that’s the idea.”
“Sans,” you begin, looking at the clearly exhausted skeleton dead in the sockets, “Tell me something.”
“sure?” He somehow starts sweating even more intensely than he already has been.
“If I didn’t come in early would you have just hid this whole thing from me?” Sans is quiet for long enough to give you your answer, “You dumb motherfu-! Sans! How stupid do you think I am!?”
“not at all?” That question mark is so rude.
“You were seriously betting on me not questioning the sudden appearance of-- wait how many ‘yous’ are there?
“two new sets of me and my bro. so two new skeletons that would come here regularly.”
“FOUR PEOPLE??? Sans if you had a physical brain I’d assume it liquefied and melted out of your ear canals!” You get a small huff of a laugh from Grillby for that one. Look at you managing to lighten the mood a little.
“i know. i know. that‘s on me bud,” Turning to glance between Grillby and you, “so, about the favor?”
“…I won’t tell, Sans.” The poor skeleton fully sags at that confirmation, then looks to you with a renewing tenseness.
“You don’t gotta worry about me man.” Sans softens but holds your gaze for a second longer. For a split second, your chest feels unbearably tight and you swear one of his eyelights flickers yellow. It's over as soon as it began and his shoulders fully relax and he looks down to the countertop. Whatever he did, or saw, satisfied him enough.
“oh, thank the stars.”
The meeting adjourned. Trading places with Grillby, you find yourself behind the bar with a bag of bones across from you. Grillbz is a worry-cleaner, so you don't have much prep work left to do. With just over five minutes before opening, you won't complain. You remember last minute to check the ice chest and... yep, mostly water. By the time you get back from pulling a fresh bag of ice from the kitchen freezer, you see Sans trying to slink off. You haven't seen your third favorite patron in forever! The dog pack will always take up the first two spots in your heart but Sans is still taking home bronze. It takes a little back and forth but in the end you manage to convince Sans to stay a while. He's already here after all.
You try to grill the skelton for answers about these mystery alternates. At first, Sans tries to deflect, but after a good hard stare and reminder that you’re gonna end up meeting at least two of the four and you should know about them, he breaks. You won't pull out the 'dong you a crazy favor keeping a monumental promise' until you really need to.
As the bar starts filling in with the occasional patron or two, Sans' explanation starts getting wrapped in so many metaphors and code words your head starts spinning. As far as you understand it, one set is from a dark and evil universe where murder is okay and the other set is a universe where people’s personalities are reversed. In all honesty, Sans started throwing too many academic, professor-y words at you and you zoned out. He likely did it on purpose. Either way, you think you get the gist.
The short hour he’s there concludes and with a quick farewell, as well as a sizable ‘sorry for shattering your worldview’ tip, Sans is out the door. He says he’ll see if he can bring one of the new guys by sometime soon. You know that actually means anywhere from maybe this week to maybe next year in Sans Language.
“Night, Uncle! Don’t work too hard!” Your shifts during the week are exceptionally short. Grillby pays well so you barely need to stick it out for longer than three or four hours, which is nice. Your job at Ebott City Library is highly sought after by the people in your field sure, but you have yet to get more than the maximum amount of hours offered before the library would be legally forced to be consider you full-time. That's ignoring the part where it pays about as well as you’d think an archive gig would. Not well by the way. With the extra few hours at Grillby’s you managed to snag, you only need one housemate to afford rent as opposed to the four you had while in University.
Before you are able to make it out the door, a large to-go plate overflowing with food is thrust into your arms. The feeling of baked macaroni and cheese pushing its way out of the side meets your thumb and you wince.
“...Make sure you eat…”
“Will do!” You try to give Grillby a little salute but your hands are too full. You end up shrugging awkwardly instead.
“...Be safe…”
Slipping out the front door, you start walking towards your bus stop. With the way your shift schedule works, your bus tends to come just a few minutes after you get out. The digital signboard says your bus won't be there for another five minutes. Not clock minutes of course. Busses work on bus time the same way clothes washers work on washer time.
Trusting you probably have enough time to check your phone, you plop down on the little bench. Nothing from your housemate, Max the jackalope monster, but he said he was going out. Something about a play? You don’t remember exactly. Oh! Sans sent you a message.
When you first got the job at the bar, you were pretty hesitant to get too buddy-buddy with the patrons. In all honestly, you weren’t planning on staying very long. A month or so maximum. You just needed the rent after your already few hours got cut even more during renovations. A few weeks turned into a few months and a few months turned into a year. You wouldn’t change it for the world—or a proper full-time position at the library. Well, maybe you’d change it for that but you’d still come visit. It took a few months of friendship with Sans before you were willing to give him your personal number. He also promised to stop prank calling the company phone so you truly had no reason to say no. It took much less time to hang out after work hours once he started texting you regularly.
The bus pulled into the stop right as you opened up Sans’ text. Quickly switching over to pull up your bus pass, you pay and find a seat. It’s nearly eight p.m. so the bus is just full enough that there are no seats available. You find a spot in the corner and grab the handlebar. Now having time to actually look at what the skeleton sent, you open your messages.
Mr. Funny Bones
-heya
-just realized something.
-i didn’t tell u the new guys’ names did i
-the edgy ones are red and edge
-the swapped ones are blue and stretch
You
-cool
-which one am I meeting “soon”?
It takes a few minutes before you get a reply.
Mr. Funny Bones
-stretch probably
-looks like my bro but acts like me
His brother??? Oh that asshole knows how to draw you in.
You
-…
-got any pics?
Mr. Funny Bones
-why?
-i thought u only want to jump my bro’s bones
-don’t tell me he has competition
You
-DONT TELL YOUR BROTHER ANYTHING
-and it’s not like I’m gonna do anything w your bro
-maybe its just innocent curiosity!! you don’t know me!
Mr. Funny Bones
-ik u have the hots for my brother and that’s all that matters rn
-free drink tmrw and ill send a pic
You
-send a good(!!!) pic of the edgy one too and it’ s a deal
Mr. Funny Bones
-pic one
You
-BAD PUN
-GO TO PUN JAIL FOR PUN-ISHMENT
-and also…
-ugh fineee
-one (1) GOOD pic of stretch or whatever his name was and ill comp a drink
Mr. Funny Bones
-pleasure doing bus-ness
-u r on the bus rn right?
You
-ew stalker
-and yeah I am
You give him a few minutes to get a picture. Once about five minutes passed, you feel an itch in the back of your head. Your Sans senses are going off…
You
-I don’t want to sound impatient or whatever but I feel like getting that picture Tonight was kinda implied
He answers back immediately
Mr. Funny Bones
-oh???
-yk i don’t see the in the contract
You
-I hate you so much
-pic tonight or no drink
Mr. Funny Bones
-didnt know ur such a horndog
-[image attached]
You
-get that out of your trombone!!!
-also NO IM NOT
Mr. Funny Bones
-yeahhh u r
-but fine. my free strawberry daiquiri is calling my name
-[image attached]
The image loads and you’re met with Papyrus. Well, not Papyrus technically. He looks so similar but you know that isn’t the loud, boisterous skeleton you know and love. For one, he’s in a beat-up old hoodie and Papyrus wouldn't be caught dead in that. It’s also the little things. This skeleton has slightly drooped eyelids, giving him a sleepier look. It’s also in the way he holds himself. He slouches and has that deer-like feeling some tall people give off that makes you feel like they have more limb than they know what to do with so it just spills everywhere.
The photo was clearly taken on the boys’ back porch. Judging from the try-hard lean against the railing. Sans definently told this guy to “look hot” or something. You won’t admit it’s kinda working. Even while posing, this guy is hunched a bit. If skeleton monsters had body fat the same way humans do, you’d say he has a decent amount more body fat than Papyrus doesn’t. This is all ignoring the whole lit cigarette hanging out the guy’s mouth. Monsters can't get lung cancer so you aren't sure why, but your Papyrus has always been loudly against nicotine. Must be the smell.
You spend a good few minutes more mentally noting all the subtle differences you can find before a new text notification comes in.
Mr. Funny Bones
-???
-horniness fry ur brain?
You
-NO
-He’s just so different from Paps
-Very odd
-THATS ALL
Mr. Funny Bones
-if u say so
You
-I do.
-Oh worm this is my stop
-night Sansy
Mr. Funny Bones
-gn
You wake up with a groan. The alarm on your phone is blaring and you blindly palm around your bed until you are able to make it quiet. Just as you are about to drift back to sleep, a knocking at your door rips any possibility of sleep from you. You were able to hold it together last night, but the fucking bomb Sans dropped on you yesterday kept you up. Your sanity hasn’t shattered like a person getting a vision in Greek myth, so you’d say you’re thriving.
“Bro. Get! Up!!!” Max’s knocking quickly escalated into banging.
“Get out of my room.” You're too groggy still to understand the details of what's going on right now, but you do know you want the noise to stop.
“I’m not in your room!” He needs to stop yelling.
“Then what do you want?!” Or you can start yelling.
“You’ve snoozed your alarm for the tenth time now and I’m getting sick and tired of hearing it.”
“Ugh. Mind your own.”
“Get up because I swear if I hear that damn phone one more time I will find a way to dust you. No fleshy bits left.”
“Shouldn’t you be at work? Go read a baby book to some brats.” Max works at the city library with you. At first, it was kinda fun to see your roommate and best friend around while working. After a year it's lost its novelty.
“I have a half day today and don’t go in until three. You are the one that needs to get to the library.”
You try to come up with a retort and fail. Enough time passes and Max decides he won the argument and walks off. After that shout-fest, you’re awake enough to drag yourself into the bathroom to freshen up. It’s only after your alarm goes off for the, presumably, eleventh time that you bother to check your phone. It doesn't take long for you to realize with a sinking feeling that if you aren’t out the door now you are about to be super duper late to work.
Mrs. Doris J. Elaine, the head archivist and your boss, is not nearly as forgiving about tardiness as Grillby. In record time, you manage to dress, collect your things, fill up your water bottle, and make it to the bus stop just as the last person was paying for their ticket. You might not have looked like a hot-shot doing it, but you made your bus and that's all that matters. Max losing his mind over your phone alarm was also a good motivator to get out of there. You may have heard your name being yelled just as you slipped out the door.
You rummage around in your bag searching for one of the emergency snacks you've stashed in there. It’s a mystery just how old this granola bar is, but at least you have breakfast. The bus ride to work was uneventful. You forgot to charge your headphones last night, so your only entertainment is to eavesdrop on the two humans in a very confusing political conversation sitting a few seats ahead of you. You missed the start of the debate but have been following the rest.
The guy in a very ill-fitted suit was yammering on about the financial strain of whatever it is the debate is about. You know roads have been brought up a few times so maybe it’s potholes. The lady dressed like an elementary school art teacher was bringing up social effects. Okay, maybe not potholes. Honestly, they weren’t even properly debating each other which was such a bore. They never directly responded to the others' points. It felt like they were taking turns debating a third invisible person that violently disagreed with the pair. Luckily your stop came and you didn’t need to listen to the two have a lame non-debate any longer.
The nice thing about working in one of the major buildings of New Ebott City is that there’s a bus stop right outside your work. Ebott City Library was built back when Old and New Ebott were still considered a single city. The library, like any other historic building in the area, is quite an imposing building. With five stories, lots of fancy brick and ironwork, and some of the most stunning stained glass windows around, it’s breathtaking. You could complain about the bad hours and low pay all day but being able to work in a building that feels straight out of one of your fantasy books is something you wouldn't trade for the world.
The only thing you don’t like is the amount of stairs. You can’t fathom why any building needs this many steps. The wheelchair ramp may be less laborious but it’s almost twice as long to walk. Your calves have gotten a pleasant dash of muscle from walking up and down these god-forsaken steps every day at least. Papyrus even complimented you a few times. One thing did lead to another and now you're expected to join Saturday morning workouts with him and Undyne so you aren’t sure if you actually appreciate it.
With a minute to spare you rush into your boss’ office to find Doris typing away at her computer. Without a word, she points behind her to the stack of papers to take back into the archives. You swallow a sigh and turn around to drop your things in the shared office space a door down. Grabbing a seat at the table, you start going through the pile of files and papers. You know for a fact that at least half of these are things you put away a few days ago. Why Doris couldn't have just kept them up in her office, you don’t know. Or even just make a note to tell you to keep them on the cart? So many options yet she chooses to make you do busy work.
After sorting the papers in groups, you start loading everything onto a cart to take downstairs. At some point, an elevator was fitted into the building and you are grateful for it every day. The thought of trying to retrieve or file anything while also not dying on the old spiral staircase terrifies you. With a shove to the over-encumbered cart, you step onto the elevator and key in for access to the lower levels.
There are two basement levels under the library for storage and archives. City Hall, despite having their own archive, tends to dump a lot of their things on the library. It's usually copies or the less important records. Nothing fun. The month you got your hours cut and had to get a job at Grillby’s was due to construction. You, being a part-timer and just an assistant meant you were considered non-essential. Once the basement was considered finished and safe, you came back to a repurposed lowest level turned solely into an archive. The weeks you spent moving boxes upon boxes from the upper basement are weeks you will never get back. Nice workout though.
The ding of the elevator pulls you out of your thoughts and you step out, dragging the cart behind you. Compared to other archive jobs you’ve worked, the organizational system at The City Library is one of the better. Rooms are organized by eras, and each room has shelves grouping types of media together. Everything on your cart are contemporary records so to the room for the past few decades you go.
A few VHS tapes are sorted back into their places. An ungodly amount of loose newspaper clippings are back where they need to be. Some flyers and zines as well. It takes you about an hour before everything is back in their proper places. Your arms burn from the constant lifting and pushing of the heavy boxes, but you’re done. For a second you consider hiding down here to relax a bit, but Doris would have your head if she found out you weren’t toiling away. She has a sixth sense for when people are lazing around.
One elevator trip later, you're rolling your cart back into the boss lady’s office ready for your next assignment.
“Hello, Mrs. Elaine.” You try to be as polite as possible.
“I need nothing from you,” That’s impossible. An archivist is always behind schedule, “Go help Vinh. She was complaining that she needed help painting the decorations.” She doesn't even turn from her computer. Mean old lady...
“Will do. Goodbye Mrs. Elaine.”
“Mhm.”
Doris makes it impossible to like her. She isn’t so bad that you feel justified hating her, but you certainly dislike her. Despite your job title saying “archivist” you swear you spend more time in the stacks. At least 'librarian' was your backup. The backup to your backup is going back to school for engineering and you've yet to be so desperate.
Taking the old lady’s advice, you start walking around trying to think where Vinh might be. Vinh Quý is about your age and grew up in the area same as you. She's just lucky enough to actually be doing the job outlined in her contract. You aren't sure what she's doing right now and for a second consider checking her office, but know her well enough to not even try. She says it’s too stuffy in there. Something about stifling her creative process.
After a short mosey around the activities area, you end up finding Vinh at one of the long craft tables painting a paper banner. For the new school year, the library has been putting up decorations for this year's reading event. The library has finally built up its collection of Monster classics enough for schools to start putting some on the required reading list. You saw the list when it first came out and about half of it were well-known books in Monster Society. As good as it is for human students, you feel bad for all the Monster kids who are going to be forced to read the same old books for what you are sure is the millionth time. One thing that seems to be universal across species is repeatedly reading the same mind-numbingly boring books from 100 years ago.
“Hey, Vinh. Heard from the old lady you needed help.”
“I don’t need help! But if you aren’t doing anything grab a paintbrush and start lettering. This dumb sign needs to go up today and painting words takes forever.” You laugh and sit across from your friend, picking up a brush to get to work.
“Other than this banner, what have you been up to?”
“Oh you know, this and that.”
“Suspisous.”
“Is not! I went out for drinks with Ruby last night. We really hit it off.” Ruby, Max’s sister, and Vinh have been flirting around the bush so it’s nice to hear they finally spoke directly for once.
“Oh? How’d it go?”
“So good! She’s so pretty and amazing and funny—” You need to stop her before you're forced to sit through a half-hour lecture about how great Ruby is.
“I can feel my teeth rotting from the sweetness.”
“Oh shush you.”
Vinh gives you the play-by-play of her date while you throw in the appropriate "ooh's" "mhm's" and "She definitely likes you's" as needed. Y'all even finish the banner in decent time. You check in with Doris and are again sent out to help with decorations. Realizing you aren’t gonna win the "will you do what you got your degree to do" chicken today, you throw yourself full force into helping the other staff get the library ready for the upcoming school year.
By the time your shift is over, the only other archive-related thing you did was go retrieve a few files for the old woman. At least with your extra set of hands most of the décor was put up. Your painfully short shift is done and at two you clock out.
Inconveniently, you have to decide between catching the bus, going home for a little over an hour, then taking another bus back to where you just were for your shift at Grillby’s or staying in the area for two and a half hours waiting around. You decide on the latter.
You walk around a bit before sitting down at a little cafe for a late lunch. Snacking on a sandwich and fancy tea burns enough time that you feel like you can slowly make your way to the bar. You’re not usually this antsy to get there, but now that you know Sans will be there today, you really want to get your shift started. You have so many questions to ask!
It’s almost torturous. It’s a slow Wednesday night and an hour and a half into your shift there’s still no sign of Sans. As you realize he never actually said he’d be in today, you feel your willpower for the night break.
The few patrons you do have seem to have come in for the sole purpose of making your life hard. One guy wanted his burger vegan but to still have the bacon, another didn’t know what the drink he was trying to order actually was, and a third guy kept trying to pick a fight with you.
Just as you are about to start yelling at a guy for trying to send the burger in your hand back for the third time, the bell over the front door chimes. You turn around to greet the new patrons and are greeted with a familiar bony face. Trailing behind him a bit you see the not Papyrus. Sans is the first to speak.
“heya.”
“What’s up, Sans?” You reply. An uncannily familiar voice chimes in after you.
“the ceiling usually.” You don’t do well trying not to gawk.
“So you’re… Stream, right?” Stream’s laugh is a mix of Sans’ comfortable baritone and Papyrus’s “Nyeh-heh-heh’s”.
“Stretch, actually. Nice to meat you.” Stretch, not Stream, says glancing at your hand. You give him a polite laugh and introduce yourself.”
“Feel free to sit anywhere. I’ll get to you in a few minutes.”
You turn back to Burger Guy and watch out of the corner of your eye as Sans leads the new skeleton to the bar. You’re practically vibrating with anticipation. Another universe! A new Papyrus! How interesting!