Cocktails and Beer. | Grillby x reader |

|Chapter 21| Friendly Banter.

Interacting with Papyrus is much more joyful than.... talking with Grillby. I understand that we need to do something about the pub, but, I needed an escape from reality. I used to do it with reading my mixology book, 

which I left at home....

So I had nothing to entertain myself with for the time being.

Papyrus was showing me his "GREAT!" room, I had noticed that he reminded me of a child. His action figures, his race car bed, his immature charm, all led me to believe that there's a possibility that he may be.... taught without good parenting. He has a knack for words, for example, saying "BOONDOGGLE" to Sans when I had first arrived. It would seem like a word he would find on his own time in a dictionary.

Yet, he didn't seem to grow out of childhood. It's as though a child were trapped in a towering, skeletal body, with a deep passion for spaghetti. I wonder if they even grew up with any parenting at all, and Sans was the only family he had, or, they did have parents, but were drunk all the time.

The later makes more sense...

"Y/N?" Papyrus awakened me to the real world.

"Yeah?" I blinked out my thoughts.

"YOU WERE STARING OFF INTO THE BUBBLY SAUCE. IS IT BECAUSE YOU THINK IT'S THE MOST OUTSTANDING SAUCE THERE COULD EVER BE?" Papyrus stood proudly, while looking at me.

"Sure Papyrus." I spoke seriously, and resumed my stirring of the sauce. "Do you think it's done yet?"

"POSSIBLY. IT DEPENDS WHETHER OR NOT THERE WOULD BE SEASONING!" Papyrus exclaimed over finding his 'seasoning.' He handed me some MTT branded products, which may include screws, sawdust, and glitter. I gently pushed them away, and instead found some seasoning, way in the back of the cabinets. I had to ask if Papyrus would reach it for me, and he was confused, but did as I asked him. He handed me some chopped chives, salt, pepper, and other containers filled with spices. I then asked him if he had any brown sugar.

"BROWN SUGAR?" He turned his skull 15 degrees. "WHAT'S BROWN SUGAR?"

"Well, in that case," I took a quick look at the sauce, before looking back at him. "Would you mind running to the shop and ask if they have any brown sugar?"

"I DO NOT MIND Y/N! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WILL DO THIS IMPORTANT TASK! IT'S NOT EVERYDAY YOU KNOW, THAT THERE'S A TRUSTY FRIEND TO HELP YOU IN THE MAKING OF HIS SPAGHETTI!" He made his final remark as he burst out of the front door.

"Alright." I spoke to myself, turning my attention to the sauce. "I could let this simmer, and then add the brown sugar at the end, possibly along with the salt, pepper, and chives that Papyrus found..." 

"Need any help?" I heard the familiar, yet tired voice from my right. It was the fireman, the one which I chose to ignore. I wonder if he noticed my absence in conversation.

"Maybe." I set the wooden spoon on the side of the pan, away from the stove. I whisked my head around to meet his gaze. He was without his more proper attitude, and had his shirt buttoned up all but for one bronze colored button. He was leaning over on the counter, his glasses off, so I could truly see his fiery eyes. His pupils were lighter colored flames flickering in sadness, but his expression said otherwise. I smiled at him, which made the finicky flame more stable.

"Do you possibly need, oh I don't know, some help with cooking?" He offered. This spun a playful idea in my mind.

"What, are you saying that I'm not a good cook?" I acted as though I were offended by Grillby's comment.