#i got the ability to make polls and naturally my only reaction was 'which animal character do we love most of all?' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dustmetal · 7 years

Text

Fic: This Is Not A Test of the Emergency Broadcast System

In which the long awaited awards ceremony comes to pass.

Author’s Notes: Thanks for readership, loyalty, kindness and making this a fun overall writing project to do. Hope you’ll stay with us in the future...for now Frank is going to be taking a long overdue hiatus from Tumblr.

Five of the seven occupants, all human got up from the corner table by the window at Grillby’s; just a bunch of people out for a drink until last call. The significant lack of alcohol being poured down throats or food being ordered had apparently gone unnoticed by the bartender who made no move to tell them to order or leave and definitely unnoticed by those in the bar who were altering their state of consciousness. The two left at the table, one a hooded and hunched figure zipped up tight into a hoodie, the other a fire monster who could have been related to the attractive green-flame female monster, or at least the same species presently tending bar.

Pushing back her hood to reveal a terrible case of hat-head, Undyne jostled Grillby in the side. "Well that went well huh? We're gonna kick ass at the awards show tomorrow!" She slammed a fist on the tabletop to emphasize her point and let out the whooping battle cry she’d been holding back all night; allowing them to continue their meeting uninhibited with the stage manager and the hand-selected staff from their significantly expanded crew she’d be bringing to the awards show to work with the venue staff.

"Speaking of, you gonna ask the Que--er, Toriel?"

"I...no." Grillby shook his head.,."I'm going with Andraia instead, since we both need to be backstage early anyway.. It makes se--"

"Don't give me that nonsense! C'mon, dude, We can SO all see you like her, you git! You get all stupid and start to talk like you swallowed a bad anime tape with terrible subtitles."

"It's. Complicated...." he muttered, trailing off then adding as an afterthought "...plus I don't think I'm her type."

The look of sheer frustration that crossed his face was something even his expression obscuring flames were unable to fully disguise.

“OH MY GOD!” Undyne’s reaction went from frustration to what was unmistakably a fangirl moment. “It’s a case of UNREQUITED LOVE! You can’t sleep, can’t eat, can’t THINK straight….although, um, you’d better fuckin’ well tomorrow at the show.”

Grillby let her have her moment, nodding a bit. It was actually somewhat not without a ring of truthfulness, he had rather obviously lost weight and was more tired than usual but well, his romantic life (nonexistent though it was) was only half the reason. Maybe not even half. Quarter. Eighth.

He was thinking about his life in musical terms now.

"So all this is over a lady, big brother?" Agni snapped the bolt lock on the door behind the last stragglers and ducked behind the bar to emerge with two leftover burgers for each of them. There was something that suddenly felt so terribly like deja-vu, yet not...no, more like an out-of-body experience about the situation, sitting here slouched and in his civvies, half preoccupied and half asleep in his seat, on the opposite side of the bar.

Agni hugged him around the shoulders though.

"Undyne is right. You should get a good night's rest. Big day for you tomorrow."

Grillby ate as ordered, grateful that Undyne did not know the extent of the situation; his feelings for not only Toriel but his feelings for...well, he supposed that in some way he was kind of grateful for Sans' ability to be constantly in trouble when left to his own devices, it had certainly given him an excuse for keeping him close by without having to confess anything about how he /felt/.

At the end of the day, Toriel, Sans...he wasn't sure which of them he was supposed to be feeling disappointed to be losing. Or, losing to.

Presently however, Sans being in some kind of relationship, whether or not it was with him or Toriel or someone he met off the street, should be the least of his worries. Come hell or high water, tomorrow there would be a decisive battle in the Subterranical versus Glamour Bomb rivalry. Regardless of who took home that trophy, it would change the course of the game. He knew a win was always the best outcome, and he dropped off to sleep feeling restless and what sleep he did get peppered with unusual, undecipherable dreams that felt somewhat ominous... but it could have had something to do with eating so close to bed.

***

Grillby woke from his as-restful-as-it-was-going-to-get sleep to find that the butterfly vs snake fight club was currently using the pit of his stomach as their meeting place. He stood, groaning a little having (not for the first time since becoming a band manager) slept in his clothes and he swiftly swapped them out for another rare instance of a casual outfit. He resolved to grab a couple of biscuits on the way to the Tuxedo rental place (and forgot) as well as grabbing Undyne's dress (from the local anime cosplay shop which despite his misgivings actually seemed quite appropriate for a black tie event). He re-resolved to get some lunch on the way back (and didn't.).

He finally arrived back at the bar tux firmly on and as ready as he would ever be to find the band waiting for him, his own father and sister in tow. . Agni gave him a hug and a kiss on the temple, his father, ever the stoic, shook his hand.

"Proud of you Junior." he said gruffly. "...and the rest of you too." he added, speaking to the group but Grillby knew the words were primarily for Sans and Papyrus. His father had allowed the Skeletons to grow up on their own terms but anyone who knew the elder Flame monster knew darn well he considered them as his own dust and magic.

He smiled genuinely, the first thrill of pure excitement finding its way past his nerves.

"Thanks everyone. Let's go ah, get 'em."

“Geez NERD! You SUCK at these things. Look, this is how you get monsters fired up!”

There was a definite snort from Sans’ general direction, followed by a clack of bone on bone as Papyrus covered his mouth before he could get a word out.

“... We are going to go to that awards show and show ol' MTT HOW IT IS DONE!"

Papyrus jumped up with enough energy for ten of them. "YEAH! YEAH! We're going to WIN! 'Cause we ARE THE GREATEST! METAL! BAND! OF! ALL! TIME!"

"S'right Bro."

"Yeah, even the internet says so." Jerry flashed around an advance poll he'd looked up on his phone that did indeed paint Subterranical as being a shoo-in for a number of awards. It was a rare moment of perfect unity for the entire band.

Grillby hated to jinx a good thing, but he had to admit things were definitely looking good.

***

Despite the fact that the snow had morphed itself into freezing rain and the driver had to pull the limo around the back of the pub to the loading dock so everyone could enter in relative dryness and safely, there was still something profoundly special about getting into a limousine.

"Okay check this!" Undyne grinned and Grillby simply let her spring the cork on the expensive and totally not complimentary champagne and clapped along when Papyrus impressively distance caught it, right from the opposite end of the elongated cab.

In what seemed no time at all, the Limo rolled up to the red carpet with a perfectly smooth stop and there was a click as an aide pulled the handle to, flooding the interior of the luxury car with a deluge of sound and noise. .

"Let's go, nerds." Undyne edged along the seat first, sliding from the vehicle in a practiced motion, the white silk of her empire-waisted dress fluttering dramatically as she stepped into the new world on the other side.

Grillby knew that by now his relegation to the penumbra distinctly adjacent to the spotlight was far more compromised than it once was, but he was finding himself surprised by the sheer amount of flashbulbs that turned his way.

A few yards away, Mettaton was surrounded by a cluster of reporters, allowing one of his stunning heel-clad legs to peep out from the slit of his strapless, silky dress, all in his signature glittering fuchsia of course

"Naturally, the real question is who is going to play me in the upcoming autobiographical movie: ‘The Mettaton Story’?" he was saying to one of the reporters.

"But of course I would normally consider playing myself, and with my talents, who could blame the directors for coming to me first, but it IS fashionable to have someone else play your part these days…

” He paused as if he expected the cluster of gathered individuals to chime in with a ‘how true’.

Some of them actually and LITERALLY did. Grillby had to remind himself that he was no longer anonymous and also that human perfumes and colognes were flammable just to keep from snorting.

“Besides,” he continued, and his gaze flickered unmistakably in the direction of the Subterranical party, "As my workload has increased so dramatically as of late, there are not even enough hours in the day for the band alone, am I right darlings?" He smiled winningly back at the flashing cameras.

With his own emotional response under control, he turned swiftly at to look at Undyne, but she didn’t seem to care. Either she had not heard the comment or had was exercising far more self control than he was giving her credit for.

"Miss Ó Maoilriain." Grillby’s attentions were brought back to the here and now as he had forgotten that his 'date' was herself a well-known figure in the musical community. “How does it feel to have your first post-retirement job be a Monster band?” one snotty-sounding member of the press sneered at her, eying Grillby with incredibly thinly veiled contempt.

""I was never in retirement." she said smoothly. "I just decided that after Ravenous ended a very successful career, I had the option open to work for the right band for me."

She very subtly steered the grateful fire monster away on that note and he began his headcount again.

Across the way, Papyrus was preening under the cameras, almost as easily as Mettaton, being asked dozens of questions by some gossip-rag about (unsurprisingly) his love life, mostly; what did people think of the rumours that he was dating Mettaton,? Or Undyne...or any number of human actors and actresses? What did he have to say to the gay and lesbian community?

The skeleton's apparent lack of any kind of sexual pursuit seemed to serve him well in this scenario; considering he seemed more flattered at being considered interesting enough to merit press coverage than considering the many rumours that had landed and answered quite similarly to each prospective 'suitor' inquiry with equal deference.

Satisfied that most of his band and he himself were doing very well, he turned his attention to the more problematic members of the group.

As it turned out, Papyrus already had Jerry well-to-hand, given that the first person he wound up chatting with after escaping his interrogation was pop idol Monique Mondale; the very same that Jerry had been bragging about his expectations to charm (the tight mini dress off of) all night long. Miss Mondale seemed to be far more interested in what Papyrus had to say however, but at least Jerry was getting something in by proxy - he assumed, at least enough to let him think he was.

That left him with the biggest troublemaker of the lot who was presen...oh.no.

Where was Sans?

Grillby's practiced eye scanned the crowd, increasingly frantically when he couldn't immediately spot the frontman, but then nor could he see any kind of disturbance.

"Oh ho, ho... It is good to see you, young Grillbert!"

Grillby winced at his seldom-used and much-despised full name, then winced and staggered as the sudden powerful clap of paw-to-shoulder sent him stumbling a few paces forward, coming dangerously close to pitching him on his face.

“Hello Asgore, Sir.” He gasped, not needing to face the source of the voice to know that he was in the presence of the head of Under the Mountain Records, former King of All Monsters and his boss.

"And who is this charming young creature?" Asgore continued, pressing a kiss to Andraia's hand as gently as he had roughly ‘patted’ Grillby's back.

The Fire monster blushed a brilliant white, but thankfully not for the reason that Asgore imagined. Andraia was a lovely human and he definitely didn’t have a problem with either her company or the quality of her work with the band, but the fact that he was nursing a glaring and obvious (at least to those regularly around him) crush on his boss's ex-wife was...well…

He caught himself and stammered through the introductions, relaxing a bit when Asgore introduced his own human date - fiancee (or so they hoped if some bill allowing Monster and Humans to marry passed), even. It did make the circumstances a little bit easier to bear.

It also helped that Asgore's new beau was clearly feeling about as uncomfortable with the massive party as he was.

"The crab cakes are excellent and you might want to get a few drinks,." she advised him with a small smile.

Asgore turned away to introduce himself to a young Japanese human with a spiky haircut and heavy eye-makeup who Grillby didn't recognize. Andraia snagged them some Gin and Tonics from a passing waiter, the aforementioned crab cakes from another (which were indeed damnably good) and introduced him to a professional looking blonde and a strung out redheaded human, both of whom were old friends of hers and veteran managers of various backstage areas. The trio fell into an easy conversation...for about five minutes, after which Andraia tugged on his sleeve.

"I think that's my cue."

She gestured towards - and Grillby's heart sank, the approaching and unlikely duo of Sans and Alphys.

On a slightly more positive note, Alphys didn't appear to be sobbing or indeed exhibiting any other undue signs of distress. Sans too seemed remarkably quiet, even downright pleasant around her.

Grillby knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. Stranger things had happened. .

"I-I'm afraid I need to...we should really..."

"Right." . Andraia nodded and followed the lizard monster, evidently having interpreted the stuttering as intended.

Still somewhat unconvinced of Sans' apparent innocence, Grillby grabbed a drink off a passing waiter that, from the smell of it probably contained enough alcohol to turn himself into an incendiary device of massive proportions if he wished it. Something of it must have shown on his face as Sans too managed to acquire one; incidentally despite the fact that the man had apparently long moved on from their location.

Deciding that actually drinking it might not be the worst idea he'd had all evening, Grillby knocked the thing back and despite the acrid alcohol smell, it turned out to be one of those drinks that was rather somewhat dangerous in nature, going down far easier than anticipated, but he did feel somewhat better for it and he turned back to Sans.

"Please tell me you were civil to her?"

"Hey I might have bugged her a little..."but you saw her, she ain't annoyed or anythin’."

Grillby turned the phrasing over in his head, fighting boozy inhibitors to suss out any hidden meaning in Sans' words

He decided however that Alphys reaction being fairly devoid of hysteria spoke for itself and he resolved to spend the rest of the night allowing the remainder of his surviving magical brain cells to ensuring the performance part of the evening went off without a hitch. Muffett was actually the first one they ran into, she seemed as impervious as ever to having arrive a touch late for the opening festivities suggesting business was clipping along as usual. She did in a more decidedly out of character turn however have a box for him and apparently one for Sans.

Inside was an intricate, strawberry-topped pastry in the shape of a boutonniere.

"Nice." Sans reply was muffled through the fact that he was already eating his, while Grillby was more enchanted; old habits died hard and this was aesthetically pleasing food if ever there was an example of it.

"This is...beautiful Muffett. Thank you."

"Oh it's not from me Dearie..." she winked three of her six eyes at him, and that made his stomach and his SOUL swoop in a dizzying way that he knew had very little to do with having consumed very potent alcohol.

"We're just heading to the green room." he informed her as though his thoughts were still right here and not off in bedroom land, choosing to pull his phone out and try to focus on anything about it in a vain attempt at mastering himself.

"Please pass along the message to Papyrus, Jerry and Undyne. they may not be checking their phones." . he added, steering Sans along by the shoulder blade so as to avoid getting strawberry or chocolate on his still-immaculate tux.

***

The most important category they'd been nominated for was after the midway point of the ceremonies, and fortunately after their performance, which was agreeable given that a loss would not be in the cards to tamper with their mindset for a good show.

This year the awards were being hosted by a woman stand-up he knew his father liked, She had very little to do with the music industry as a whole, but he'd been aware the last year's debacle of a host who could have given JERRY lessons as to how to offend every person in a earshot (namely by being in front of a world-reaching media platform,), so it seemed they weren’t pulling any punches. He could hear the MC introducing her to the stage, just as they arrived at their destination.

While the rest of the group checked out the backstage riders and started their pre-show rituals, Grillby paced around a small corner of the Green Room, thinking hard. As it turned out, the rest of the members of the band also had pastry corsages (though he was sure none but his and the Skeleton brothers’ had also included a strawberry rose), but at least the gesture being extended to all of them had helped put some of the more distracting notions out of his head for the time being.

"What do you MEAN you can't?"

And here they went.

Grillby spun to face Undyne and of all monsters Papyrus.

Nerves were getting to everyone he supposed.

"What's going on here?"

"Who told Papyrus he can't play a flaming guitar with his tongue!?"

"I-wh--"

Undyne ignored him. "WE TOTALLY PRACTICED IT?! IT'll BE BADASS!"

The fire monster went for the hail Mary. "...The fire-code people. For the building."

It worked, much to Papyrus’ relief, Undyne dropped it, but she could very clearly be heard to mutter under her breath something that sounded an awful like a variation on '...and yet they let you in'.

He sighed. He sat down. .He nibbled on his pastry corsage.

"Hey."

Grillby wasn't sure if if he'd not been looking where he had sat down or whether Sans had maneuvered himself in that tricky space manipulation way he always seemed to have, but one way or the other he found himself being tugged back against something soft and warm that was not so as a result of his own flames.

The fire monster let himself be ...cuddled, such as it was, falling a little bit limply against his new, squishy backrest. with a sigh that belied his true stress levels and (he hoped) just how well he'd been holding things together, up until now.

"Relax Gribblies, it's going to be a great show."

"Yeah. You're right."

Something sort of hard and almost-but-not-quite sharp scraped the outside of his wrist.

"Fricking...Sans, you bit me?"

He lifted his hand to his face to see the damage, and flames swirled back over the little divots in his magic.

He was tempted to stand up, especially since he could feel Sans laugh where his back was pressed against him

Instead he stayed down. He was comfortable and God knew how long that would last.

"Papyrus?"

"Nyeh?"

"Can you turn up the loud speaker a bit please?"

The skeleton who was not presently being a pillow nodded affably, setting down his guitar and in the next moment the sound of an entertained audience's appreciative chuckles filled the room.

Satisfied that there was no way he could totally drift off, despite being comfortable, (make that VERY comfortable, as Sans had decided to play with the wisps of flame that sprung like 'hair' from the top of his head) he decided there was nothing for it yet curling his long legs up under himself and simply waited for the first strains of Glamour Bomb's performance, the timing by which he had gauged their own pre-performance preparations to start in earnest, both in part because it would give them a good amount of time to accommodate for any technical mishaps that might occur during checks, but also because they would not have to listen to and subsequently be riled up by MTT, his band or any of the rivalry they represented.

Normally it might not have mattered as half the band were at the least professional if not strictly speaking 'chill' and the other half mercurial regardless of any outside influence, but he was unduly pleased in this case that the mercurial half seemed to be completely under an unprecedented wave of utter calm. One that he refused to allow to go to waste.

The deafening roar of applause and cheering was shut off with a crackle and a click that barely cut through Grillby's drowsy state despite his personal insistence that he would not succumb to sleep.

"BROTHER!"

He lifted his eyes to observe looming above them, expression an odd mixture of confusion, excitement and mild disgust.

Grillby snapped himself back to full consciousness and alertness excruciatingly slowly, up until he realized that he had a skeleton still chewing on his wrist. that was tingling in a very odd way. He retracted his limb and attempted to rub some feeling back into it.

"IT IS TIME TO GO, NOW! WE CANNOT BE LATE!” Papyrus, who had likely never been tardy a day in his life was bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet and looked more than a little wired. Grillby fervently hoped that his apparent nausea was in regards to his willingness to get Sans’ germs all over himself.

On to the first order of business. "Ah, Undyne. I need you to take a quick walk with me." he commanded.

The fish turned to him, the eyebrow above her good eye disappearing into her hairline. . "Sure, what's up?"

Grillby walked her away from the group, hoping she wouldn't balk at the idea. Normally he tried not to let his fidgeting show in his gait, but he had set this up without her knowledge and was none too sure of what kind of reaction he'd get from it.

"I know you've ah, earned your stripes as our veteran band member." he said, going for a certain demureness he hoped would deflect any potential ire, but regardless of how she reacted this needed to be done. He ploughed on, coming to a halt a few yards away from a patient looking Korean man with a youthful face and carrying a complicated looking metal case.

Undyne's good eye flickered to him curiously and then back to Grillby. and with good reason. He wasn't the type to spring a huge event without warning normally and he had more than enough sense not to do anything that might potentially demoralize someone before a massive performance as well. Still, he must have looked a great deal more dire he imagined and he attempted to soften his features as much as was instantly discernable by anyone who wasn't a fire elemental or....a member of his band he spent massive portions of every day with.

“This is Tae-Yong. I know that Doctor Alphys looked at your arm earlier today, but I would feel more comfortable if you got a second opinion."

Grillby braced internally.

Undyne hacked out a laugh. "Geez you are such a nerd. You're clenching your arse so hard you might leave behind a diamond when you dust. Come on, even I know you're like a damn helicopter parent with a bullied kid over everything remotely relating to Mettaton. I'm surprised you aren't insisting we be in one of those bullet proof Pope cases or something that humans use." she snorted. “Cripes, I hate to agree with the fatass---SANS." she drawled her correction and punctuated it with an eyeroll, "But if it'll keep you from having whatever the fire monster equivalent of an aneurysm is, I’ll totally let the little guy look at my arm. Yo kid, let's do this."

Grillby hovered while he watched Tae-Yong look at Undyne's proesthetic, but he was anxious to get back to the rest of the group.

Sans was one to talk about being uptight,. Even if it sounded like an oxymoron where the stout skeleton was concerned, it had taken the monster a very long time to start treating their human staff, in spite of any definite trustworthiness and competency with any kind of valid respect or at the very least to get through a day without getting bored and trying to prank them into enough annoyance to net them a cut practice session so as to knock off early.

"Go on." Undyne rolled her eyes. "I think I can take the little guy if it comes to it. Trained by Asgore instead of Juvie, remember? I’ll totally smoke the little nerd if he tries to boobytrap my arm.." She laughed at the expression on the poor technician's face, but Grillby was weighing his options and decided to go check on what sort of chaos might have developed with the rest of his band.

Chaos backstage was an omnipresent creature in general, and it was best to assume the worst.

Papyrus seemed to have been reassured that his tongue was heretofore safe from burning guitars, and was hovering by a young woman bent over an amp while he plucked his guitar, perhaps a touch nervously. The amp in question belonged to Jerry and in any other instance the whole situation could have been seen as a bad case of White Knighting, but there was a common force against Jerry that transcended appropriate assumptions to make about gender roles and personal ability to stand up for oneself.

Speaking of nerves, the lumpy little spud was practicing, taking a cue from Papyrus he supposed. Muffett was having a reasonable discussion about her drum set and even Sans was about as serene as could be, dozing on his feet instead of rehearsing like the rest, but nor did that put him in anyone's immediate line of ire or anyone in his immediate line of interest.

"Yo, we're all done here. Got a clean bill of health - arm is virus and bug free." Undyne came up behind him, and he turned to watch her make a fist with the prosthetic and pump it in a show of enthusiasm.

Grillby pulled out his mobile and made the transfer of funds to the young technician, shook his hand and bade him stay around the back monitors for the remainder of the show. Only awards recipients, managers and directly involved individuals had the prime seats and the back rows that could be purchased by the general public had been long sold out, but it hadn't taken much to allow an extra to join the behind-the-scenes hangers on.

Now all there was to do was wait and hope that the leadup did not belie the success of the final product.

The crackle from his cb radio was a confirmation from Andraia that things were a go from her technician's perspective and he copied it, then pulled an unused amp just inside the audience's blind spot at the edge of the stage, took a seat and waited, hovering on the edge of it.

On stage, awards were being passed out for something; Grillby didn't recognize the recipients, he thought perhaps it might have been Spoken Word but even if he’d been interested this was too close to zero hour to pay the barest polite attention. They were in the final moments now; behind the set-covering curtain, Subterranical were taking marks, roadies were scrambling to complete their last chances to make sure nothing had slipped notice.

He caught Sans’ eye, in part because it was flashing gold-blue; but it was gone the moment they locked gazes.

“...Subterranical!” the MC walked off stage left to screaming and cheering and it was on.

Grillby tensed without realizing it.

The song was supposed to be the single - 'Fuck the War Machine'. Sans had no problem with censorship, personally finding 'bleeping' network sanctioned ‘offensive’ words amusing rather than anything else.

But this was not that song. Grillby’s SOUL clenched as it went through a wave of nervous emotions

Subterranical was definitely playing a new song. None of them had managed to disclose it; even Papyrus who was normally transparent as glass had managed to keep the secret.

There was no profanity in the song; and by the second verse, Grillby had stopped panicking enough to realize that it wasn't a prank.

He began listening to the song. It was good. Really good. Better than anything on the album.

Sans' lyrics were perhaps what put the the band as over the top popular as it was. Sans sang songs of war and murder and 'dark' things and that was to be expected of a Metal group and it probably lent some edge that they were Monsters which had evolved into something ‘unknown’ and ‘scary’ for humans. His true power lay in his odd...ability - ability really was the only word for it - to sound like a veteran of these things, even if Grillby knew personally that he was more or less the same age as him. They’d met as children. Not even Muffett - the eldest member of the band had anything on that kind of a scale as part of her lifespan. It would have been one thing if Sans were a researcher with a degree of accuracy and respect for a sensitive topic, but this wasn’t that either.

The long and the short of it was that Mettaton was a decent actor, but whatever talent he brought to his role as Monster Performer: Idol to Human and Monster alike, there was no match to Sans ability to exude something that suggested he’d been personally present for major events in their history.

However he managed it, it had only gotten stronger with time and it was in full force now. The audience was going predictably insane.

Grillby thumbed on the button of the walkie talkie, legitimately struggling to keep his voice low. "Wow. Got me."

Andraia flashed him a thumbs up from the sound booth and with that he let himself enjoy the moment.

The fire monster was very nearly doing a dance of joy. He had sat down to counteract the emotional and physical turmoil of the long day exhausting his magic, but no one watching him could have known it and for himself being tired was the farthest thing from his mind. He was burning bright, white-hot and orange, gold flickering off him in such fervor that he had to sink further into the shadows, cheering along with the crowd, almost feeling as though he was louder than all of them.

Something cool blew past the back of his neck, fanning his flames and he whirled in shock and a thrill of embarrassment to see Toriel standing behind him, a bemused expression on her face and lips pursed from the teasing puff of air she'd sent at his neck.

"Why hello there ‘Mr. Grillby.’" she smiled.

He didn't bother to restrain himself, still too caught up in the moment to care much about some minor bashfulness and hugged her, unashamedly. "You were able to come!"

"Yes, Muffett made a small tweak to the green room rider." she was wearing her bakery uniform and was still a little floury.

"The gifts you sent were excellent." he added, adrenaline continuing to eclipse his usual low-key shyness. And he was still holding her hand. There it went.

He barely had the time to dwell on the situation as the band had made their way off stage and he was bowled over literally by a sea of bones, fur, scales and hair. The tar from Muffett's black lipstick managed to sear a lasting lipstick-kiss mark on his cheek and his air was being uncomfortably choked off but yet he couldn't think of a situation he'd rather be in. Papyrus hefted him and Undyne had a brief scuffle with him with him over which of them could supplex him better.

Across the way the crew along with Andraia were celebrating in an equal, though somewhat less limb-heavy tangle, which he found himself pause to watch.

“So take it y’aint too pissed off with the new song?” Someone said into his back.

“No.” The breathlessness of the reply had very little to do with the fact that Sans’ arms were locked rather fiercely around his waist.

He relaxed into the embrace until Papyrus ripped his brother away with a whoop.

Grillby went to extract Andraia to take them down to their seats for the remainder of the evening, after they were re-dressed and/or cleaned up into their party clothes once more.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Sans and Toriel, huddled close together.

He squashed down the invasive spike of envy (and the still-lingering question of who it was for), wanting to get out of there in a huff...kind of...but mastering the childish impulse and busying himself with getting back on track until ''Professional Grillby was back in control.

He found himself , along with the rest of the band being hurriedly ushered out after the music played to coax a long-winded -award recipient off the stage, and the group were soon being served Champagne in an aisle-adjacent table. Grillby didn't know if it was coincidence or because they would be expected to be using that aisle soon, but he crossed his fiery fingers in the hopes of the latter.

As it turned out, Andraia won an award for Best Engineering on the Blue Album, which meant they were officially not walking away empty handed. Papyrus had been nominated for Best Metal Performance but lost gracefully to Metallica's latest tour (and he quite rightly felt there was no shame in that.) Still, it would be good to receive something band-specific for their troubles and Grillby found himself fidgeting through Lil' Hal's acceptance speech for best Hip Hop Artist more than he'd like to admit.

Monique Mondale was the presenter for the newly crafted Monster-produced album award and she had a short speech prepared on the importance of Asgore's significance in forming Under the Mountain records and how it was significant that this year there were enough Monster performers to create a category for awards.

Everyone knew including Punk Hamster himself that the race was between Glamour Bomb and Subterranical but the rodent-like creature waved at the cameras when they trained themselves on him.

Grillby tried to relax himself, but even using the big screen as a reference couldn't seem to unclench his muscles. Never had he been so grateful for his elemental nature - most anyone watching who wasn't familiar with a fire elemental would be able to read his body language for what it was.

Of course, his whole family would likely have something to say about it later.

Up on stage, Monique had come to the end of the ‘drawing out the suspense for extended viewing’ portion of her presentation and slid a manicured nail under the seal of the envelope. She bent near the microphone.

"And the winner of the award for Best new Monster artist is..."

She used the expectant pause to slide out the paper and bring it to eye level. "Subterranical!"

The declaration rang out to Grillby's ears las though it was screamed at decibel level. They’d won. There was no mistake about it.

Beside him, Undyne was impressively wrestling Jerry back into his seat with one arm on the pretense of a congratulatory hug and trying to maneuver Papyrus into getting up and making his way to the stage with her leg.

The tall skeleton walked to the stage, receiving a kiss on the cheek bone and a half-air hug from Monique and leaning down to the microphone even though it was hefted to its furthest height to read the brief speech.

“No, it IS fair, Mettaton...!”

In the chaos it took everyone a moment to realize that the voice that was speaking was not Papyrus'.

“...A-after...after what w-we did...we...di...didn't deserve to win."

Papyrus fell silent, realizing that he wasn’t being listened to and a horrified expression crossing his face as he finally processed just what was interrupting him. Even the curious buzzing that had started up had died down to near complete silence now, with the tv coverage crew having located the source of the unfamiliar, nervous soprano stutter.

"Y...You nearly killed Undyne." The cameras had zeroed in on Alphys, who was standing at her unimpressive full height over the seated and blank-looking Mettaton and twisting the bodice of her black polkadotted evening dress in her claws. If she was aware she was on television she either hadn't noticed or had moved beyond caring.

"A-and...and I kn--know it was a-an a-a-a-accident." her stuttering became more pronounced in her half-determined, half fearful bravado. "B-but...you---you made me lie and I don't want to lie and hide things Mettaton!I ...I hate it and Undyne deserves to win and we do not. A-and I...I-d-don’t care i-if you fire m-me! I q-quit!"

Sans folded his hands across his stomach peaceably. Undyne's face was now the one on camera but she seemed unusually calm.

At the end of the row, Grillby stood up.

He found himself walking down to the row of tables by the stage, . He saw the cameras follow his progress in his periphery vision. .

The entire room of elegantly dressed people was silent in the wake of Alphys’ pronouncement and (he acknowledged it as being) Sans retaliatory ‘prank’ . Grillby came to a halt at the end of the row in front of the duo, rooted to the spot and staring at the both of them. It was almost impossible to tell what he was thinking. That was generally the case as with no incredibly obvious facial ticks or features, but this was a whole different case.

Sans might have made a joke about ‘frozen’ and ‘irony’ but it was just so eerie.

Mettaton stood and finding himself almost immediately in Grillby’s face, took a careful step back, almost stumbling over his carefully crafted pink spile of a heel; an impressive feat for a robot with servos and motors designed to keep his balance level at all times.

Sans had sat up a little bit from his initial pleased ‘innocent observer’ slump but now was quite aware that what to come next was not good. Grillby had, it seemed, run totally out of his last vestiges of patience.

[Maybe this timeline had finally run its course.]

The fire monster reared up like a cobra - he was certainly tall but had always been thinner than even Papyrus (or so said Sans), In that moment however he seemed intimidatingly huge, his face, livid with blue-white flames looming down over Metaton’s .

“If you ever.” he began, voice dripping with bile “Come near my band again, I will find out EXACTLY how much heat it will take to melt magic-imbued metal.”

He plucked the award out of Papyrus’ fingers, turning to find him there; presumably to stop him but the elemental didn’t even miss a beat. The stunned guitarist didn’t make a move and he ascended the stairs, and very calmly placed it onto the podium. “We do not want this.” he informed the dumbstruck Idol hostess with quiet politeness, for all the world sounding as though he was returning a pair of trousers he’d discovered a stain on just out of the store.

He ushered himself off the end of the stage and as one the remainder of the Subterranical party stood. Somehow it seemed like the right thing to do. Grillby offered his hand to Andraia who barely hesitated to take it.

Internally he was delighted he had not found time to ask Toriel to be his date as he had initially planned. He swept her down the aisle before the confused and grateful looking security guards could react, stopping only at the auditorium doors to turn back.

Subterranical gazed back at him.

His eyes were kind now but his voice brooked no argument. “Let’s go home.”

***

The rest of the night passed in such a blur Grillby could have been intoxicated for all he remembered of it, though at least that would have been a better excuse. Much like being drunk the enormity of his actions at the ceremony hit him all at once once he had rubbed a decent amount of sleep from his eyes.

He had behaved foolishly, impulsively and childishly, so focussed on and distracted with his ridiculous (and nonexistent) love life he'd let his professional one slide into the proverbial ditch.

He dressed himself in a casual jumper and jeans and peered into the mirror. There would be a lot of work to do.

He had to start right away.

He was still livid.

Stepping out of his room, he predictably found the entirety of the band clustered around the dinette table as best they could, waiting for him and not even bothering to bicker about personal space.

Apparently somewhere in the last 12 hours or so, the table had acquired a new centerpiece - namely their award from the previous night.

Grillby had a pretty good idea where - or more accurately, by whose hand that had come from.

He tore his gaze from it and tried to spread it evenly among the rest of the group.

He took a deep breath and let it out, willing away some of his ire, even if he could feel his own flames licking as white as they had the previous night.

He opened his mouth. He was going to apologize, explain himself, ask forgiveness. Instead, he told them only two words. "September 6."

That said, he turned and exited into the kitchen, letting the door click quietly behind him.

Subterranical looked at each other from across the cramped Banquette.

70 days, 22 Hours, 35 minutes and 8 seconds before the next album dropped….

End of Season 1

To Come in Season 2…:

Grillby lay back comfortably on the bed, catching a rare moment of comfort and uninterrupted rest in the the peace of his hotel room. He scraped the last bit of pasta off the admittedly well-made room service plate and got up to put it outside for collection by the staff, only to be greeted by Papyrus, one hand raised pre-knock.

***

"DARLINGS! We are here for our turn to use the soundstage!"

***

“‘Sup Pap?”

“What’s this?”

“Well that would be food Papyrus. That’s what you tend to find in a fridge.” she’d been somewhat quiet since the moment of Alphys painful confession, but even she couldn’t keep the sass out of her voice.

“I KNOW THAT.” the Skeleton put his hand on his hip bone and then and grabbed the door before it could swing back shut. “BUT ALL OF THIS TUPPERWARE!”

***

"Yes." he said rather stupidly.

"I am sorry, I asked if you preferred cinnamon or butterscotch."

“Still yes.”

#frankpanioncube writes #this is not a test of the emergency broadcast system #tw: catty paparazzi #tw: emotional abuse #tw: alcohol use #one sided relationships

7 notes · View notes