Mafiatale

An Undertale AU Fiction by D101 Reviews

Chapter 04: Here Comes…

Papyrus set his hat on the bar and sat on one of the stools, yawning slightly. Grillby looked up from where he stood as he cleaned a glass, before ambling over to Papyrus, grabbing a bottle from the rack and a second, clean glass from beneath the counter.

"Long night Pap?" Grillby asked, setting the glass before the skeleton and filling it with an amber liquid.

"You've no idea," Papyrus sighed, taking the bottle from Grillby's grasp into one hand and the glass in another.

"What was it this time?" Grillby said, getting a glass for himself. "Something you can talk about or should I just drink?"

"It's nothing like that," Papyrus said, pouring Grillby a drink and knocking back his own in the process. "Doggo's still laid up with his leg in a cast so had to do two patrol shifts."

"Any word on when he'll be off crutches?" Grillby asked, flicking a spark into his glass so the surface of his drink burst into blue fire.

"Doc's say another two weeks," Papyrus told him. "To top it off I got a call from Toriel halfway through my first route."

"Oh? Nothing bad's happened I hope," Grillby said, pouring the flaming liquid into the space where a mouth would be on a typical monster face.

"Depends on what you class as a bad. She's not hurt, just a small bit shaken. Those golden flower bastards are back and nearly offed another human kid."

Grillby froze slightly. "A human? In the Slums? You have a sketch?"

Papyrus nodded and slapped a page torn from his notebook upon which he had sketched Frisk's likeness. Grillby leaned over the sketch and rubbed his finger against his chin.

"Gods…" he mumbled. "So young. Handsome little fella ain't he?"

Papyrus shrugged and poured him and Grillby another glass. Grillby straightened up and lit his drink once more as Papyrus pulled back the sketch and tucked into the breast pocket of his shirt.

"These bastards are going after kids this young," Grillby murmured. "If I ever get my hands on one of those Golden Flower bastards…" Grillby paused and readjusted his glasses. "Well… I'll have to clean out the back room again."

Papyrus held up a hand and shook his head slowly. "Don't wanna know Grillby. What you do in that back room I don't wanna know about. You can keep that between you, lazy-bones and G."

Grillby chuckled, though there was no mirth in his voice. "Sorry. I know you're not exactly fond of our… necessities."

"Call them whatever you want Grillby," Papyrus shrugged. "Just don't give me the details."

"What're you going to do?" Grillby asked. Papyrus downed his drink.

"Everything I can," he replied. "Circulating his picture around Monsters I can trust. Going to the human police and telling him we've found a lost child and see if we can get in contact with his aunt."

"No parents?" Grillby asked surprised.

"Apparently not," Papyrus mumbled.

"Well whoever his aunt is, she's probably worrying her head off about where this little guy is," Grillby muttered. "I know I would be that's for dang sure." he paused for a second and looked at Papyrus. "Speaking of the Lazy-Bones, have you told him about this yet?"

"Haven't seen him tonight to tell him," Papyrus mumbled. "If I did tell him though you can be dang sure that he'll take it as an excuse to get away from his patrol route, landing me with his workload on top of mine." Papyrus gave a small bark of mirthless laughter. "I'm not letting him dump his work onto me again. Last time he did that I couldn't get him back on shift for three weeks." He shuddered. "Paperwork was a nightmare let me tell you."

"Nightmare paperwork or not this is Toriel we're talking about here," Grillby reminded him. "He'd want to know. It makes sense too and you know it. Two sets of eye sockets looking out for Toriel and this kid are better than one and… no offense Paps, you look run ragged."

Papyrus sighed and handed the bottle back to Grillby, looking in his reflection in the mirror behind Grillby's drink rack. It was difficult to tell when a monster like Papyrus was tired, they not having as expressive features of a typical monster. He didn't get bags or dark circles under his eye sockets, he wasn't capable of growing a five o'clock shadow and he had no hair to become messy and unkempt. It was all a case of body language. All a matter of how Papyrus slouched over his glass rather than sit straight up at the bar. Of how his eye sockets were half open, how his smile was less pronounced and how his hands shook ever so slightly when he reached for anything.

"When was the last time you slept Pap?" Grillby asked seriously.

"What time is it?" Papyrus yawned.

"Getting close to ten at night Paps," Grillby said, looking at the clock.

"I guess I work up at… I dunno seven in the morning?" Papyrus asked. Grillby fixed him with a look behind his glasses.

"What day?"

Papyrus looked uncomfortable. "It's not Tuesday?"

"Paps it's Sunday."

Papyrus slumped totally over the bar and slapped his hands on the back of his skull. Grillby patted him on the shoulder and the corners of his eyes crinkled, indicating a smile.

"Ah Paps…" he said slowly and shook his head. "You wait here pal. I'll call someone to get you home. Tell G to get someone to cover you for the rest of the night while you get some rest and freshen up."

Papyrus struggled to push himself up straight. "I've gotta go see Toriel… make sure she's okay."

Grillby looked at him in a tone that brokered no argument. "I'll call someone, tell them to check back on Tori later on. Make sure she doesn't have to worry about where you've got to as well as the kid. Now you rest up Paps.. I got a few calls to make."

Toriel looked up from her book as she heard Frisk give out a long, drawn out yawn. She smiled warmly as she saw the young boy snuggle closer into the blanket that she had draped over him when he had first sat down. She looked at the empty teacup that rested on the floor, as well as the empty plate beside it.

She had insisted on baking Frisk a pie, though she had lacked enough cinnamon to bake the cinnamon pie she had wanted and had compromised a cinnamon and butterscotch pie instead. Frisk seemed to have enjoyed it, and was now teetering on the edge of slumber. A long weary followed by a nice healthy slice of hot warm pie and good cup of strong and sweet tea was certain to put someone of any stature very close to slumber, and Frisk was still a small boy.

She bit her lip gently. She was loathe to leave Frisk lying on the coach as he was, though the front room was very comfortably warm, and the fire wasn't going to suddenly go out in the next hour or so. But the couch was nothing compared to a nice comfortable bed and the thin blanket draped over him did little to do imitate a comfy heavy duvet.

She was however reluctant to let Frisk into… that room. She shuddered. The idea of letting someone else sleep in there to her was… was…

Then she looked at Frisk's little face and her reluctance melted away. She was being stupid. Of course she was. How could she deny the poor boy a bed to sleep just because she was a sentimental old monster. He had immediate need of a bed, and she had two spare.

Her decision made up, she closed the book with a far more forceful snap than she intended and Frisk gave a small start as he was rested from the haze between sleep and wakefulness. Toriel gave him an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry my child, I was just think perhaps it's time we put you to bed. What do you think?"

Frisk rubbed his eye with one balls up little fist and nodded slowly, yawning again. Toriel smiled at him again and got to her feet, walking over to his side as he slid off the sofa and onto the floor, the blanket wrapped around him like a cape or robe of some kind. She smiled at this and lowered her hand for him to grasp and she led him past the front door and the steps that led down to the basement and down the other end of Toriel's little home. There were three doors down the other wing of the house, and Toriel took Frisk to the first of these. She paused, and ruffled his hair slightly, before opening the door to let them inside.

Inside was a dark room, for there was no window to let in the outside light. Frisk could easily see however that this was a bedroom for children like him. There was a wooden toy box with stuffed animals and wooden soldiers peaking from underneath the lid. A cute lamp sat on a chest of drawers, and the wardrobe was covered in little stars. Frisk smiled as he saw it, then realised that there were two of everything. Two beds. Two two boxes stuffed with toys. Two chests of drawers. Two wardrobes covered in stars. There were two children who were supposed to sleep in here.

Frisk looked up at Toriel, about to ask about just this. But Toriel was already steering him towards the closest bed. Almost as if she didn't want to be here. As if she wanted to get out of this room as fast as she possibly could. She kept her face turned away from him, right up until she lifted him from under the armpits into the bed. He caught a flash of her expression and saw something shine in the light from the outer corridor.

Was she crying?

"Grillby. What's up?"

"Something bad that's what. Papyrus came in earlier. Looked like he could do with a real pick me up."

"How's he doing? He's not hurt is he?"

"No, he's fine…"

"But?"

"They're back. And they've got a target."

"Where's the kid now?"

"How did you-"

"Is it ever anyone other than kids Grillby?"

"Fair enough."

"So. Where's the kid Grillby?"

"Toriel… the kid's with Toriel."