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Dust is allowed to think Killer is an idiot.
He doesn’t care what rank he holds, doesn’t care that Nightmare trusts him enough to be his right hand man. It doesn’t magically make him any less of a dumbass.
They were supposed to grab something, that’s it. Boss didn’t specify the details, just who had it and they needed to get it. Get it, come back.
The hard part was supposed to be tracking Fresh down, and it should’ve been smooth sailing from there.
And, to their credit, they did.
But things can never be easy with Killer. No, never, like ever. He says something stupid the moment they have Fresh cornered one moment and the next Fresh has the perfect opportunity to escape.
And when he got cornered again, that damn parasite had waited for the perfect second. When all three of them lept in to attack him, just the split second where they all were in contact with him, and poof!
And they’re all somewhere completely different. Confetti lands on Dust’s jacket.
Dust exhales slowly through his teeth, trying to take in the new scene presented to him. The smell hits first, alcohol and syrup, greasy food, and something just faintly sweet underneath it all. Glass. Wood. Warm lighting.
A bar.
Of all things to get dumped into.
He spares a glance to his teammates. Killer, somewhere to his left, has one brain cell left roaming around in his thick skull to have Fresh in his grasp. Horror is at his side, just as confused as he is.
“Hey, hey!”
They turn their heads at the voice, which belongs to you. A human dressed in Grillby-esque clothes sitting behind the bar. Acting like this is normal.“Knock it off!”
Because, clearly, this is the part where they listen.
“Or what?” Killer challenges, swinging his head to look at you instead of his current victim. One hand clutching Fresh's shirt so tightly the fabric threatened to rip, the other holding his signature knife. Just itching for any excuse, isn’t he?
Dust doesn’t make a move. He doesn’t need to.
He only spies a couple other monsters in the bar. If there was a fight, it’d be over in seconds.
But…
He doesn’t want to deal with the clean-up, or the lecture from Nightmare about bringing unnecessary attention when they’re supposed to be on the down low.
(Well, Dust thinks, if they’re not supposed to be bringing attention to themselves, the boss shouldn’t be giving them missions.)
He just wants to go back to the castle and sneak in a nap.
“I’ll sic ‘em.”
Dust follows your gesture lazily, unimpressed and --
The two skeletons you pointed out turn to stare at the intruders. One’s a short lil’ guy, so short he needed a booster seat, and he donned a very familiar blue scarf tied into a big bow the size of his skull. His blue eyes were star-shaped.. The other, well, was a complete black skeleton save for his arms, which were a gradient of purple and blue, and his cherry red scarf. His telling detail though, were the three gold stars aligning just along the outer edge of his right eye socket.
Oh, hell. Blueberror wasn't a threat unprovoked, but…that Underswap Sans? No fucking thanks. Gag.
Killer droops, thankfully sharing the same sentiment. He lets go of Fresh's shirt like someone just flipped a switch. Instead, making a show of putting his hands up in surrender. He even throws his knife into his inventory.
"Not cool, brah." Fresh pats down his shirt to fix any wrinkles before adjusting his baseball cap.
Killer only lets his liquid hate spill from his sockets…before sticking his red tongue out at him. Blowing a raspberry.
Fresh follows suit.
Dust drags a gloved hand down his face, exhausted. Figures. Whole mission derailed because Killer can’t keep it together for five seconds. They had him -- had him! -- and now they’re…playing nice in some off-brand Grillby’s with a human referee. Great.
“Thanks, broski!” Fresh gives a thumbs up to you, his shades blipping to spell out, “ILY❤︎” rather than the usual YO-LO.
They swing their heads to stare at you again. You’re making a heart shape with your hands to return the gesture.
…What.
Dust’s eyesockets narrow, gaze flicking between the two of you. How is this real. A human is chumming it up with the parasite. In some bar.
Fresh poof!
Annnd just like that, Fresh is nowhere to be seen. He did leave more confetti on the wooden floors though.
And they didn’t get what they needed.
“nice going, dumbass.” Dust turns his attention back to the problem, and he’s sure there’s going to be an LV spike. It just so happens he has the perfect dummy to take it out on.
“Hey,” Killer takes a quick step back before the other skeleton can grab him. “Don’t doubt my skills just because you wouldn’t be able to do it.” He slips a box out of his pocket, giving it a little shake. A prize he stole during the fight.
Killer is the boss' right hand man for a reason, Dust tells himself. He can think his co-worker is an idiot all he wants, but he still gets the job done. At least they won’t be showing up empty-handed when they set back to the castle. LV spike concerns are forgotten.
“I got the cargo, which means I call dibs on what we have for dinner tonight.” Killer’s soul burns a little too bright for his liking.
“whatever.” Dust dismisses, swiping the box from his hands for safe keeping. “if a parasite steals your body, it’s not my problem.”
Killer makes a face that Dust doesn’t care to see, instead turning on his heel and reaching a hand out to Horror. “let’s just go.”
Except, well. Horror had moved. So, Dust just grabs at the air instead of his coworker’s arm.
No, Horror had made his way to the bar, to you, during their little spat.
“...what's this place?” Horror asks, scanning their new environment. There’s the booth, a few tables, and quite a few skeletons that shouldn’t be in the same building. Oh - hey, there's one of those Bitty Sans on the table in the back. Neat.
It’s very…Well, it reminds him a lot of Grillby’s bar. There’s major changes of course, but the influence is there. Almost cozy.
“A bar that travels the multiverse for your convenience!” You happily point to a sign on the wall just behind you, which was conveniently just below the menu. “No fighting zone! Truce area and all that jazz. If you’re gonna fight, take it somewhere else.”
Horror squints to read the sign. In tiny little letters read, “no puns allowed”, just under the “NO FIGHTING” set of text. Punbelievable.
“Don’t Grillby’s usually..? Yanno.” Killer questions as he steps up to join his friend, which..is fair. You’d never catch a Sans in a different bar than ‘ole reliable.
“I’ve been trained by a plentitude of Grillby’s! And Muffet’s, for that matter!”
“And some Sanses!.. Sansi?” Blueberror pipes in from the background, but quickly gets distracted by the little skeleton with him. He’s already back to his previous conversation, pointing to a piece of paper set between the two of them.
Dust takes a sneak peek at what the paper holds. Which isn’t very much, there’s a crude drawing of.. Ugh. Baby Blue. Colored three quarters in with a red crayon. Scribbled in the lower right are checkboxes, both titled ‘good’ and ‘bad’ respectfully. Bad is colored with the same red while good is left blank.
(“This is your badness level. It’s unusually high for someone your size.” He hears Blueberror mutter, and Dust huffs at that, going back to tuning out the odd duo of Underswap Sans.)
“Sooo,” You stretch out the word long enough for you to grab a notebook and pen from behind the counter. “I haven’t seen you three here before, what’s your names? No, wait!” You tap the end of your pen on the marble. “I know you guys are a Sans type, I want your nicknames.”
They all spare a glance at each other. Did they really have time to diddle daddle?
The giant skeleton is the first to relent, taking a seat on one of the stools. “‘s horror.”
Guess they do. If the boss wants them back, he’d just force them back.
“Everyone calls me Killer, but for you, doll? You could call me-” The one with black tears starts.
“dust.” Dust ends, jabbing an arm in his coworker’s side.
They wait for you to scribble what they assume is their names down in your book. “Veeeeery clever. A trio of murderous skeletons." The dust on Dust's jacket must've not escaped you then. "Spooky scary skeletons at that. Let me guess, you’ve earned the title Murder Time Trio?”
“Snrk. No, but we gotta use that now.” The other two take their seats, leaving Dust to sit in the middle of them. Hey, these are pretty comfy, actually. Could use a whoopee cushion though.
“Be careful.” You tsk, “There’s already a Bad Time Trio out there in the universe.” You pause, skipping a beat. “Multiverse, I mean.”
Yeah. No shit.
He doesn’t comment on it, titles tend to stick no matter what when you’re doing whatever Nightmare commands. He’s not used to this kind of talk so casually from a human though.
Killer isn’t either, obviously, because he’s eating you up. Dust hates that he can tell.
"So, doll-"
"Ah, ah, ah." You wave your finger at him disapprovingly, effectively cutting him off. "I already got two skeletons calling me that, pick somethin' else."
"Babycakes.” Killer corrects, “A bar that travels the multiverse, huh?"
"Mhmmmm." You smile, leaning over the counter. "We stick around in some random AU for a few days and travel to the next. Blueberror helps me out a lot with that, he likes making new friends."
You jab a thumb back in the error’s direction, and the three spare a glance back towards them. Blueberror and Baby Blue have moved on to playing chess. The smaller one is very obviously eating the pieces and winning.
"how did a nothing human get this much clearance into the multiverse." Dust deadpans, and does his very best to melt into his seat. Killer snickers.
"I'm afraid you haven't unlocked that part of my backstory yet, my dusty friend.”
“Oh, I think I like you.” Killer’s grin stretches a little too wide. Dust doesn’t share the sentiment.
Of course you dodge the question.
He presses. “what’s in it for you?”
“Oh, yeah, like, you’re making hella gold, right?”
You bark out a laugh. “Oh, no, stars, I’d be stupid to think I’d make some G’s doing this kind of thing. Sans and Sans-personalities don’t pay, they keep tabs. I just ask for favors.”
You’re met with blank stares. You’re dodging again.
You can’t help but chuckle at them. “Nothing crazy, promise. Once, I asked some Fell Sans to bring chocolate from his universe because this other guy said the Fell universes have the best chocolate, so I had to try it for myself.”
Killer blinks. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.” You nod proudly.
“You’re tellin’ me,” Killer leans forward, his liquid hate threatening to spill onto your counter, “allllll this --” he gestures one hand vaguely around the bar, “-- runs on snack requests?”
“Among other things.”
Dust huffs. “sounds inefficient.”
“Depends on what I need, depends on who I ask. Some Sanses cover a shift or two, that sorta thing.”
Dust’s gaze flicks back over to Baby Blue and Blueberror, Killer’s does too. “and you think you can boss us around?”
Just because he doesn’t want to start a fight with those two doesn’t mean he won’t. Most likely. Probably. Not really. Maybe sorta.
"Hahaha…no. Bad, bad guys like you three get free food and get to stay as long as you don't kill me, kill my customers, or rat me out." You count it out on your fingers as you talk, giving them a pretty smile.
A pause.
“...free food, no fightin’.. friendly ‘nd cute bartender..lettin’ us stay.” Horror’s one, massive red eyelight squints, his eye socket unmoving. “somethin’s up.”
“Nonono!” You try to save face, setting your hands on your hips. “There’s no way in hell that I would purposefully attempt to trick you, or even, stars, fight you. I’m just a human, and you guys work for the big bad guy of the multiverse! That's, like, me just begging to be killed."
"But why do this, huuuuh? You're doing a lot of charity work for free. Favors or not."
"Nothing wrong with wanting to do something good for others, is there?"
"That reason alone is enough for us to warrant destroying this place and you. The boss hates shit like this."
Now that he thinks about it, Dream is probably behind something stupid like this. Those Underswap Sanses tended to flock to each other anyway.
But…also. A truce area in the multiverse couldn’t be too bad. No one’s necessarily given them bad looks yet.
"Please don't!"
Dust finally speaks up. "why not?"
"Because I'm cute?" You offer, giving a fake, awkward set of giggles. Well. You are cute, for a human. "If you need a temporary place to stay, we never close ‐ uhm - I'm sure it's a nice change of pace than wherever your boss keeps you. Hahah..ha."
Maybe it’s the way you moved, maybe the light shifted a little. Something happened for Dust to notice a little doll sitting up high on one of the many shelves behind you. Perked on the edge, just between a few bottles of some brand of monster alcohol he doesn’t recognize, it’s button eyes peering down at..them.
"I'm a human, right? So, it's not like I'm going to be a thorn in your side for long.."
Dust tugs at the edge of his hood, obscuring more of his skull in an attempt to hide from unwanted eyes. What did you, a human, have to do with Error? Then again, if Blueberror was here.. errors did have a tendency to follow each other.
He kicks Killer’s stool hard enough for it to topple over, effectively crashing Killer’s body with the floor. He keeps his voice quiet. The lowercase font helps. “knock it off. that destroyer goes here, rather not deal with his bullshit if we step out of line."
The clatter and the impact is loud enough to echo throughout the establishment, but Dust doesn’t care. He knows the other heard him, and Horror is back to slumping over himself. Point got across. And he gets his revenge for earlier.
Killer groans, “You dick!” He’s soothing some pain in his neck, and doesn’t visibly react to Dust’s glare other than with a scowl. “Alright, fine! Fuck!”
Dust shrugs.
“Excuse me!” Killer plunges the tip of his knife into the counter when he climbs back up to the bar, leaving it there to stand upright. There’s a bit of red magic dusting on his face, annnnd he’s pouting. “What happened to the no fighting rule? Kick this traitor out!”
“I didn’t see anything.” You whistle innocently, instead ushering a plate-to-go of fluffy pancakes in his face. They’re bear-shaped!
Killer feigns a gasp, a gloved hand over his soul. “Bribery?” He’s quick to grab the bribe though, happy to forget what just happened. “I knew I liked you for a good reason.”
Though, Killer hands his pancakes over to Horror. Waste not, want not.
Horror doesn’t question it, he never really does. One massive hand takes the offering and he starts tearing into the stack.
His quiet demeanor makes him wish Killer was more like that, but Dust supposes, Horror doesn’t really have a stake in the game, now does he? He does what he’s asked, and he gets to go home. He doesn’t have to pretend to have fun like Killer does, or even pretend to care like he does. At least he’s loyal.
"You knew we worked for Nightmare?"
“Who doesn’t?”
Horror's eye lazily rolls around in its socket, boring into you. “you said...you haven’t seen us..before.” Chomp.
“Yeah! Here! Doesn’t mean I don’t know about a trio of skeletons at the beck and call to the lord of negativity himself.”
It's..actually kind of cute how you refuse to say the boss' name. Like if uttering the word would bring Nightmare himself into your bar.
"If the multiverse had a TV network, you guys would be on the news station every day I'd reckon!" You stop when realization washes over your face, humming. "Oh, but that would be depressing wouldn't it."
"Who'd be sad to see my handsome face?" Killer forms enough magic in his mouth to run a red tongue over his teeth. "Well..actually, I'd be sad too if I had to see those guys every day.” He takes an effective pause before turning to look at Dust and Horror. “Oh wait."
A certain hooded skeleton kicks his stool again.
You giggle. "You're all very handsome." Dust swears Horror puffs his ribcage in pride at the compliment. “At least, for skeleton standards, and I’ve met a lot of skeletons!”
“Hear that?” Killer nudges him with his shoulder, “we’re speeeecial.”
“shut up.”
Horror makes a low noise, still chewing the last bits of the pancakes. Clearly content with himself and the praise.
Were they all really getting soft for a human?
(Dust’s not surprised that Killer would, with his weird human kink…but whatever.)
Dust’s fingers are drumming against the counter before he pushes himself up from his seat. He tries not to look at you, but he does glance at the shelves. The doll is still there.
It’s time to go. “we’re done here.”
Killer glances up at him, browbones lifting. “Aw already? I was just getting comfortable.”
“mission’s over.” Dust stands, waiting for Horror to finish up. He’d rather use his magic to help them both teleport. “we got what we needed.”
Killer sighs dramatically, because he can never be easy. He rolls his shoulders as he sits up from this stool. “You’re no fun, y’know that?” He turns back to you, “But hey -- thanks for feeding our big guy here, babycakes.”
“Anytime!” You chirp, waving like this wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. You’re probably just pretending, hoping for them to leave without escalation. “Try not to cause too much trouble out there, alright?”
“No promises.” Killer winks and…
He’s left. Gone. Blipped. Great, it’s their turn.
“c’mon.”
Horror swallows the last of his bite, using a spare napkin to clean up. No complaints, of course not.
He readies himself when Horror takes his hand. Dust pulls his hood a little lower, keeping his gaze to the floor.
“don’t get yourself killed.”