Chapter Text
The bar was an utter mess, the rush has absolutely destroyed your usual attempts to be orderly. Luckily, the night had slowed enough for you to make a recovery.
With a tired exhale, you rolled up your sleeves and got to work restoring some sense of order—reorganizing bottles behind the counter, refilling syrups, restocking maraschino cherries and citrus slices. The familiar rhythm of closing tasks steadied you. Wipe. Rinse. Reset. Repeat.
The door chimes, a sigh escaping your mouth. Looking up to find two skeletal monsters have entered the scene. Not the familiar Sans and Papyrus you're used to. These two seem to be a lot rougher around the edges. Understatement.
“I TOLD YOU THIS ESTABLISHMENT STINKS OF FILTH AND GREASE!"
His voice practically shook the walls. He had to be at least 6'3", maybe taller. Every movement he made looked deliberate, sharp, like he'd been carved rather than born. His armor was angular and unforgiving—black plating with pointed shoulders and a chest piece that caught the dim bar lighting like blade edges.
A red scarf hung around his neck, reminiscent of Papyrus's—but torn at the ends, threads unraveling like they'd survived too many battles.
And his teeth…You forced yourself not to stare too long.
They were too sharp. Too perfect. Like they hadn't ever been meant to dull. A jagged scar ran through his right eye socket, where a glowing red light burned faintly.
Those eyes locked onto you. “A HUMAN" he barked "IN A MONSTER OWNED ESTABLISHMENT. THE FIRE MAN HAS TRULY LOST HIS RESPECT FOR OUR PEOPLE!!"
The second skeleton stepped in more casually, like he was used to this exact performance.
He was shorter—closer to Sans's height—but there was nothing lazy about his presence. His aura was darker, quieter, like a shadow that knew exactly where it belonged.
A black fur-lined parka hung open over a red turtleneck, the fabric worn but maintained. A single gold glinted in the dim lighting.
His head resting in the palm of his hand looking at you as though he were bored already. “Boss calm down. Gonna startle the nice lady." He held out his hand "Nice to meet you, names Red."
You hesitated for only a moment, before returning his gesture. His gold rings sending a cold wave through your fingers. A smirk creeping onto his face “HUMAN! COFFEE. BLACK." His bossy demeanor had already began to get under your skin.
But there is a time to be mouthy and a time to be smart.
Even if you know Grillby would back you up, you'd rather not cause further chaos than has already been started.
You return to the kitchen, pouring a coffee, and returning, setting it down on the spruce counter with a soft *clink*
He took a sip of the coffee, not even flinching at the scorching heat. "ADEQUATE."
A small pause fell before his booming voice rang in your ears once more "HUMAN. SPEAK. IT IS INCREDIBLY RUDE TO KEEP A TIGHT MOUTH TO A PATRON!"
You weren’t really sure what to say, but figure the safest option would be to ask him questions about himself only.
He's the type who appreciates an ego boost. "Apologies sir. What's your name?"
He answers almost immediately "THE GREAT AND TERRIFYING EDGE!" His voice must always be this loud.
“Ah, nice to meet you, Edge" you said it as politely as you could manage, giving him a soft smile. his mouth clamps shut before reopening. "THAT IS NOT MY FULL TITLE, BUT I ACCEPT."
“What is it you do?" An almost desperate attempt to calm his demanding behavior. But your curiosity was in fact piqued. “ I AM A LICENSED ENFORCEMENT OFFICER." His posture straightening as though the title mattered more than an explanation. Your silence encourages him to continue
“I AM RESPONSIBLE FOR ENSURING THAT RULES ARE FOLLOWED. THOSE WHO DO NOT FOLLOW THEM... ARE CORRECTED." Interesting.
"I see. That's a very noble profession, you must enjoy it." You look up to him, setting down your glasses, your focus being placed entirely on him.
The coffee cup met the counter with a soft clink followed by a scoff.
“ENJOYMENT IS NOT RELEVANT. I AM ASSIGNED DUTY, AND I PERFORM DUTY." Sans, Red, was tapping his index finger on the counter in amusement. "I pity you sweetheart. Boss has a way of digging into people."
Your lips tightened in understanding. His 'pity' comment was completely disingenuous, but it sent the message.
His brother is always like this, and Red had no intention of actually helping you.
“He's fine." You insisted. Setting some menus down on the table, Red waved his hand, "don't need a menu sweetheart. Burger please." You simply nod, placing the order in on your tablet.
A slew of complaints and groans came from the line cooks in the back who had been working in a desperate attempt to pre-close.
“Should be ready in ten minutes or so." You figure now is a good time to go back to cleaning the last of your glasses.
“Can I get you anything sir?" You ask, looking at the towering monster. The tall skeleton—Edge, apparently—snorted.
“I AM NOT INTERESTED IN SUCH GREASE AND INTOXICATING SUBSTANCES." He gestures to the wall of various liquors.
"I completely understand." His glare faulted just slightly. "YES. SANS GORGES HIMSELF ON UNHEALTHY SUSTENANCE. IF YOU COULD EVEN CALL IT THAT."
His glare returned, but this time directed towards his brother. Red gave a lazy grin "you don't need to kiss his boney ass sweetheart."
Looking up from cleaning your glasses you met his eye lights. “I'm fine," you replied evenly, still cleaning a glass.
It wasn't really an invitation for debate.
Red tilted his head, amused. The kind of amused that suggested he absolutely did not believe you.
“I'm not kissing anyone's anything," you muttered under your breath.
“I heard that," Red said, grin widening.
You didn't respond. Instead, your attention shifted to the kitchen window. A plate that appeared perfectly cooked and freshly steaming.
“Can I get you anything else?" You ask, your 'customer service' was really giving you a hand here. “Mustard. Thank you sweetheart."
You were getting real sick of that pet name.
Sliding the bottle towards him he stared at it for a moment before picking it up. And pouring it directly into his mouth. Bottle and all. You froze, cringing at the idea of pouring something so tangy and pungent being overwhelmingly in your own mouth. But didn't even react. “Don't stare too hard, sweetheart," he said casually. He seemed to conclude the matter entirely.
The shift dragged on after that. But far heavier in a way you couldn't quite explain. Like the air itself had decided to stay longer than necessary.
Eventually, the closing hour arrived. Edge stood first. The loud sound of the chair being pushed back under the bar top
“HUMAN. I MUST GO. I WILL CONSIDER VISITING THE ESTABLISHMENT IN THE FUTURE." He struts to the door, Red following him. He turns his head, "I'll see you around sweetheart. Don't miss me too much." He winks. And with that, your incredibly odd shift comes to an end.
What will the next day throw at you?