Shards Of Glass: A Sansby Fanfiction

Chapter One: Ketchup, Fries, and Fire Guys

    The soft crunching of snow beneath pink faux fur slippers was just about the only thing audible in the small ice-ridden town, besides the ever-present and music-box esque faint music that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once. It was late, and although the monsters didn't have any sunlight to see what time of day it was, old clocks had been invented and repurposed to help keep track.

Although for all they knew, 2 in the afternoon for the humans could be 8 o'clock at night for monsters, which was what time it was currently. Papyrus had an early bedtime, and after Sans had put him to sleep reading 'Peek a boo with Fluffy Bunny' he usually went to Grillby's for the occasional drink. Of ketchup.

But ketchup wasn't the only thing Sans came back time and time again to see. Sans smiled to himself and looked down at the powdery snow that coated every surface in Snowdin as he walked to that very place. No, the real reason was the owner and the restaurants namesake, Grillby, a fire monster.

Sure, they had been 'friends' since what seemed like forever, if you could even call it that. It was more of a mutual understanding and caring for each other. Grillby was extremely soft spoken, only talking briefly to take an order or to console Sans when he'd had a few drinks and started to question the purpose of living.

That was also another reason Sans came back almost every night. He loved to hear his voice. His voice was magical, in the literal and figurative sense. It was almost ghostly, soft and soothing, and sometimes you could hear crackling sounds a fireplace would make, woven into his words perfectly, and it was pleasantly low toned, almost like a hum. His looks weren't too bad either, despite his head being a literal ball of magic fire. Sans still wondered occasionally how Grillby managed to wear his glasses without them falling off.

Although his head was merely a ball of fire, his eyes were beautiful, at least to Sans. Most usually a bright daffodil yellow, that quite literally were a window to his soul. If you stared hard enough, you could see the memories in them, that told of young love, heartbreak, hardship, and yet Grillby still managed to be one of the most friendly and cherished members of Snowdin. He was just so. . . enthralling. To no surprise, Sans fell into a deep 'crush', to put a name to it. At least he kept telling himself it was a crush. He'd never let himself admit to being in love.

The bell stationed above the door gave a cheerful chime as the door opened up to the freezing cold of Snowdin. A gust of frosty wind blew in, causing several dogs at a nearby table to shake out their fur, creating jangling noises as their metal armor and dog tags clanked against each other. Since it was fairly late, most of the monsters of Snowdin were either sleeping, or here.

Sans was kindly greeted by a few of the regular occupants, which he returned absentmindedly. It was routine, no one was at all surprised to see any of the others there. Sans shivered as he shook off the cold still chilling his bones from the snow, then walked over to his favorite spot, a barstool on the far end of the bar counter. He smiled softly to himself, spying the still-inflated whoopee cushion on the seat next to him through the corner of his eye socket.

Not long after he sat down, Grillby emerged from the back room where the kitchen was, holding a few plates of fries for the table of hounds in the center of the pub. The dogs loudly thumped their tails on the wooden benches, unable to contain their excitement as Greater Dog lolled his tongue out. They thanked Grillby and immediately dug into their food, even barking and growling at each other in a small play-fight over a single fry. Grillby silently took notice of Sans sitting on the barstool, like he did with most things; silently.

He was mostly unsure of why he was so quiet, but maybe it was just his nature, as half of his job would require talking if it weren't for the residents of Snowdin knowing how much Grillby preferred not to talk. They just ordered whatever, Grillby would nod to show he understood, and then that was it. No hassle, no fuss, his father always told him it was best to keep your mouth shut, so he did.