Drunk Walk Home

"Final Customer."

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Grillby's door chimed as a rabbit monster dragged Dizzy out of the bar, waving on the way out. The last customer.
Almost.

Sitting, or rather, swaying on his stool at the bar, was Sans. He'd drunk a fair amount already, and was passed the point of being drunk.
Regardless, he waved over the bartender for another drink.

"ssay, grillz... coul'ya be a sweetheart and pour me another?" He hiccuped, grinning hopefully at him.

Grillby did not stop cleaning out the glass he'd been holding, and simply sighed.

"I believe... you have had enough." He stated. "...Am going to cut you off."

Sans grumbled at that, and planted his head on his arms after crossing them over the table.

"...Should call Papyrus. I'm sure he is... worried." He pondered out loud. He needed to start cleaning up already.

Despite his distaste, he retrieved a glass of water for Sans and took away the alcohol glass, setting down the water in it's place.

Sans glanced over at it, and now it was his turn to sigh. Though, he did not turn down the offer of water, and took a careful sip.

"why d'you h..hate me grillbzz?" sans asked with mock sadness. He slumped onto the table to sell his point. If he were any other species, he'd probably be pouting.

".....I do not hate you. Honestly, you and your dramatics...." Grillby said, rolling his eyes. "Asgore forbid I stop you from dusting by alcohol poisoning." He tsked, chuckling a little.
Sans chuckled too, though the emotion in it was different. He seemed to not notice that his eyes went dark.
why try to stop me? He wanted to say, but decided better of it. Not everyone could find any humour in jokes like that.

An uncomfortable beat of silence passed. Grillby could taste tension in the air, could feel the unspoken words hovering around Sans.
Lately, he had been spending more time at the bar, Grillby noticed. Staying late, drinking more, his jokes tended to have notes of self depreciation, but when confronted he would just wave it off and avoid the topic.

Sometimes, when the bar was empty and Sans had a little much to drink, Grillby could find him staring off into space with empty eyes and a slumped grin. Just like he was doing now. Exhaustion simply radiated off him, and not the usual kind.

"....Is there something troubling you...?" He asked. Sans's eyes returned and he looked over to him, before averting his gaze, and fidgeted by swirling the water in his glass.

"...nah, m'good." He hesitated.

"..Be truthful with me." Grillby softly demanded, worry apparent in his tone. Sans felt a twist of guilt at it.

"wha's even the point of tellin' you..." He muttered. "wha's th'point of any a this- if that damn kid is just going to fuckin..." He angrily sputtered, waving his hand around until he brought it back down and grunted. "wh.. why am i even..." Sans forced himself to shut up. Grillby had now been leaning on the bar infront of Sans. His expression hopefully conveying that he was there to listen even if it made no sense.

Sans looked like he was warring with something in his head, for a moment, blue tears pricked at the edges of his eyes but he swallowed them down.

"i... should go. pap s'probably wonderin where i am..." Sans said as he hopped off his seat and immediately stumbled over. "heh, fuckin clutz..." He scolded to himself. Grillby hurried over and picked hin up under the arms, steadying him on his feet. He flushed and rubbed at his skull, then wobbled his way over to the door. He tripped once more, but caught himself with a nearby ledge.

"Sans...... I'm sure your brother would rather take you home... than risk having you pass out in the snow... At least let me assist you." Grillby offered in concern.

Sans stared at him for a moment considering his words, then shrugged. A blue colour faintly brushed under his eyes.

"whadeva... he's probably sleepin' already anyway. guess you can be my company. bundle up, fireboy."

Grillby smirked at his acceptance, and visibly warmed up at the nickname.
Shrugging on his coat, he made his way to Sans's side, and slid his hand into the other's, joining their fingers.

Sans accepted his hand with no complaint.