Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The knock was sharp and fast.

Inside the little kitchenette of his dorm, Grillby cracked a small smile. There was only one monster in the underground with knuckles that hard and a bloodstream that caffeinated.¹

“Come on in, Gaster.” He could hear the door open, close, and lock—a habit Gaster didn’t seem inclined to break for as long as Grillby had known him—before footsteps made their way over to the kitchen. He didn’t look up from his fried rice, mostly fearing the skeleton would distract him from his task like he always did. Many omelettes had died for Gaster’s stupid puns, but Grillby couldn’t seem to say mad about it.

“Smells good, Grillbz,” Gaster drawled, dragging the ‘z’ out far longer than necessary.² “Hey, is Rudy around?”

“He’s left this morning and I don’t anticipate he’ll be back before midnight, knowing him.” He could feel Gaster's gaze peer around him at the frying pan. 

“That’s a lot of food for one monster.” Gaster piped. There was something in his voice besides doubt, but Grillby couldn’t place it.³

“I suppose you came here for other reasons besides just asking about my roommate and stealing my food.” He quipped, reaching for another plate. 

“I did, but considering you’re always cooking, I figured my chances were pretty good.” Now that he was bringing the food to the counter, Grillby finally got the chance to look at the skeleton. One leg was crossed over the other in a futile attempt to keep it from bouncing. He was drumming his fingers against his cheekbones methodically with a goofy smile on his face, but Grillby knew him well enough to tell there was something besides coffee making him jittery. 

“So…?” 

“So!” Gaster clapped his hands together, resulting in more of a clack than a proper clapping sound. “I have...a proposition.” 

Grillby waited.

“Would you...like…a job?” Gaster tried again.

Another pause. 

“As Head of the Royal Guard?” 

There it was. Grillby opened his mouth to respond, but Gaster was about eighteen steps ahead.

“I know it’s not your first choice. But I just think you’d be amazing for the job—Plus, you wouldn’t have to actually have to do much of the enforcement bits, unless it was something big, and even then you could probably—“

“Gaster.” The skeleton stuttered to a stop, readjusting nervously in his seat. “Calm down. I know what the Royal Guard does.” He took a breath. “Asgore wants me to be the Head of the Royal Guard?”

Gaster looked to the side. “Wellll…”

“Gaster.”

“He sort of...outsourced the job search to me.”

“ Gaster.”

“But it isn’t as if you’re unqualified! Hell, Firefly, by the end of the war you were practically leading the remaining battalions by yourself.” 

“Asgore doesn’t know that.”

“But we could tell him—“

“Plus, Gaster, I don’t like fighting.”

“You shouldn’t!” Gaster threw his hands up exasperatedly. “That what I keep trying to tell Asgore. All the people who want this position like fighting. But that eliminates the whole point of having a Royal Guard!”

Grillby sensed a tangent coming on, so he made himself comfortable.

“The Royal Guard is implemented to encourage peace. They should be good at fighting, yes, but it shouldn’t be the go-to option. If we stock our army with sword-happy guardsmen, then we’ll start as many fights as we stop! We need someone calm and rational at the reigns who can determine when a fight is worth fighting.”

Grillby frowned. He agreed, of course, but it was hard to decid—

“—Plus, I have to work with them. Like, a lot. You know I don’t get along with a lot of monsters, Firefly, I don’t know if I could manage anyone else. Especially when it comes to matters concerning the entire underground.”

“So you want someone who won’t push back on your policies, then.”

“Precisely.” Gaster said matter-of-factly. Grillby chuckled, hiding his face with his hand. Gaster smiled, that smug, snarky, amazing smile he did when he’d told an awful pun or won an argument. Grillby would love to see it more often.

“I’m assuming you still need Asgore’s approval before you officially appoint anyone.” He commented, trying to sound resigned. If Gaster found out he was actually looking forward to it, he’d never hear the end of it.

It wasn’t particularly convincing, he guessed, because the skeleton lit up. “You’ll consider it?” He prompted, grinning. 

“You made a compelling argument.” Grillby shrugged, leaning back. “Plus, I need to start saving for my pub anyways.” 

Gaster threw his arms around him, hugging him tightly. He was cold, which was unsurprising—to be fair, everything seemed cold to Grillby. But it wasn’t unwelcome, certainly, and he was positive the only reason he heated up a few degrees was to compensate for the heat loss. Definitely.

“I’ll do all the paperwork so you don’t have to, and I’ll start custom making your armor, do you still want a sword? Or do you still have your old one? Or, wait, I guess you’d want to finish up classes first—“

Grillby nudged him away in a feeble attempt to stop his blathering and smiled despite himself. It had been a long while since he had seen Gaster this excited about something—and that something was him. Gaster wanted to spend more time with him. 

“...Firefly?” Gaster was staring at him expectantly.

“Hm?”

“You’re sure you’re okay with all this? I know it was sudden and all, but...” He asked tentatively.

“Just tell me when to start and I’ll be there.”

Chapter Text

If the day before had been the happiest he’d seen Gaster in a while, then this moment was the most offended. And that was saying something, because it wasn’t particularly difficult to tick him off.

“What do you mean, ‘ can he fight?!’ I told you he can fight! I met him in the war, Azzy. I wouldn’t recommend an amateur.” Gaster was fuming as Grillby nervously shifted on his feet beside him. It was still difficult to believe that Gaster had grown up with the Royal Family at times, but his lack of formality left little room for doubt. 

Now, for example, he looked like he was about to slap the King of Monsterkind straight into his well-managed flower garden.

Said king sat on his throne, looking uncomfortable about the conversation. Not necessarily because he was getting verbally battered by his Royal Scientist¹ , but more so because he was worried about offending Grillby. 

The Queen, sitting next to him, looked somewhat bored.

“Well, Gaster,” Asgore started, “—it’s just that sometimes—well, some of you stories from the war were…”

“Embellished.” Toriel supplied. Asgore made a loose gesture in her direction to show he agreed. Gaster looked scalded.

“I made a dragon! I did! Grillby, tell them I made a dragon!” Grillby nodded along, which was apparently enough for Gaster. “See!? Dragon!”²

“Um, If I may, your Majesty—” Grillby interjected softly. Gaster shut up for a brief, glorious moment. Asgore and Toriel both seemed surprised he spoke at all. He wasn’t a particularly talkative monster, especially when Gaster could do enough talking for the both of them. “I served in the front lines during the war, I’m sure I can find the records somewhere.”

“Which battalion?” Toriel asked. Gaster had grown quiet in anticipation.

“The fourth, originally. It was later shifted.”

“You were under Calour, then?” Asgore asked. He was clearly impressed.

Of course, most monsters would be. Calour was a soldier and later a commanding officer that had been hailed as a hero after the war. Few monsters had the will to keep fighting a losing battle, but he had saved thousands of monster lives by defending and leading them to Mt. Ebott—even if it did result in them getting trapped afterwards. The soldier had mysteriously disappeared afterwards, and some even speculated that he never got trapped in the first place. 

Grillby spared a glance at Gaster, who was hiding a purely devious smile behind his hand. 

“I, erm...Well, in a way.”

Gaster cleared his throat loudly, which was a particularly impressive maneuver for one without a windpipe. Grillby sighed, defeated.

“I... was, Calour. Your Majesty.” Gaster looked positively giddy—he’d been harboring the knowledge of Grillby’s barely mentioned last name for far longer than he would’ve preferred. The monarchs were in a state of shock. 

“Embellished my boney ass.” Gaster muttered with maybe a little spite. He spoke up again; “I can vouch for him. Plus, he still has the sword .”

“Hellfire…” Toriel muttered. Grillby looked embarrassed.

“That was Gaster’s name for it, actually. I just thought it was clever.” He supplied lamely. Gaster’s smile fell into something a bit more genuine. 

“So, with that out of the way…” He sing-songed, moving over to a towering object concealed by a white sheet. With just the right amount of dramatic flair, he flung the sheet off of a shimmering set of armor.

Now, Grillby didn’t like fighting. And generally speaking he hated being reminded of it.

But by God, it was gorgeous.

Gaster had thought of everything. The armor was cooling, since he knew that Grillby preferred the cold. The visor was prescription, so he wouldn’t have to wear glasses. Even the plume was non-existent to allow for his flames to reach the air. Not to mention the whole thing was elegantly designed with some special alloy and fabric Gaster himself crafted. 

Gaster was rambling on about the science of the thing, Grillby couldn’t stop smiling. How long had Gaster been planning this? Or had he done all this in one night? Knowing Gaster, Grillby didn’t doubt it. But the thought that Gaster had pulled an all-nighter on his behalf made him feel like melting.

“—...Grillby?” Again, Grillby was snapped back to reality by the skeleton’s voice. Despite how much he chattered, it was still lovely.

“Sorry, I was distracted by... this. ” He gestured to the shining armor.

“Do you not like it?” He asked, visibly worried.

“ No, no! It’s...wonderful. Really.” Gaster relaxed slightly. “What was the question?”

“Do you want to turn on anon?” Gaster chirped. Grillby stared blankly at him.

“There’s historical precedent,” Asgore started, slowly, formally, “that some Royal Guards wished to hide their identities to separate their lives from their work.”

“In the past, it was mostly used to hide violent actions behind a pseudonym,” Gaster corrected, “but I figured that you would prefer that same separation for more...social reasons. For some reason.” He shrugged.

Grillby knew that Gaster didn’t quite understand the appeal of not being the center of attention³ . Despite that, he had dug up some archaic law and convinced the King of Monsters to make an exception for him. 

When surrounded by such extraordinary monsters, little moments like those made Grillby feel included. 

“If that’s an option, then...It’d be preferred.” He murmured, still somewhat distracted. 

“Wonderful!” Gaster said, giving a curt nod to Asgore. “Then it’s done! Welcome to the King’s Court, er...I suppose we could use Calour again.” 

Grillby never thought he’d be happy to readorn his armor, but the grin on Gaster’s face as he blabbered on about technicalities made it worth all the hassle.

He couldn’t wait to see more of him.