Soft light filtered onto Grillby's sleeping form, his body having drifted from where he leaned against the wall now to lay on the bed, his head nestle to a pillow. The monster opened his eyes slowly, squinting as the sunlight stung his tired eyes, letting them adjust before sitting up and peering around the room.

It was the same way as before, a cluttered mess with a treadmill in the middle, now accompanied with his work clothes and Sans' jacket.

Sans. Grillby jolted upwards quickly, scrambling off the bed and whipping around wildly, frantically searching for the comedian. After a moment of restless heartbeats, he calmed himself, takin deep breaths and shuddering as a slight draft nipped at his bare skin.

Looking down, he remembered what had been going on last night as he processed he had nothing on but his boxers, feeling an excited stir mix through his lower region as he thought of Sans. It's was quickly snuffed out as the events that had taken place afterwards played through his mind, making him feel guilty for his sinful thoughts.

Clenching his jaw, he quickly threw his clothes back on, straightening his tie as he had so many times before as he slipped on his vest. Grabbing his socks and shoes, he decided to leave them off, not wanting to go through the hassle of putting them on.

Quietly, he slipped out the door, shutting it behind him and peeking over the balcony railing hopefully. Relief swept through him as he caught sight of Sans sitting on the couch, a cup of coffee in one hand, the tv remote in the other. He was calmly flipping through channels without turning around, probably unaware of Grillby's presence.

He was stepping lightly down the stairs when Sans seemed to perk up, turning in the bartender's direction and flashing a wide grin.

"Morning, Grillbz! I didn't wanna wake you, so I let you sleep in. Pap's already on sentry duty, and let me have the day off, on account of my guest." He chuckled, seeming all the too joyful from Grillby's perspective. Grillby silently nodded, reaching the final steps.

"Coffee's in the kitchen if you want some. Sugar and cups are in the cupboards." Sans commented before turning his attention back to the tv, scoffing lightly as one of Mettaton's various shows came on. He changed it again.

Grillby first set his shoes and socks near the door, next to where Sans' slippers resided, wondering to himself if Sans or Papyrus had put them there.

Straightning, he entered the kitchen a bit bashfully, warming up as soon as his eyes met the coffee pot simmering on the counter. He searched the cupboards quickly for a cup, grabbing a mug and generously filling it with the liquid caffeine, skipping the sugar and instead slipping back into the living room.

Sans was still grinning as usual as Grillby took a seat next to him on the couch, completely on the opposite side with a whole cushion between them. When he was settled, he didn't really touch his coffee, nor did he pay attention to the show that was on. He was too distracted.

"Sans.. I had a weird dream last night.." He started, looking over to the skeleton with a serious expression, causing Sans' current smile to fade.

"Yeah? I've had weird dreams too, ya know. There was one, where I was like some weird kid, and I was accompanied by other kids, and there was this crazy scientist-"

"Sans, you were dying in it." Silence. Sans was staring at Grillby blankly, his mind racked with confusion and panic. What did Grillby mean, he was dying in it? Could he have remembered a past timeline..?

"You said you were okay, and I had believed you, but then.. You passed out.. And there was nothing I could do, I was too weak. I wanted to help you, but I ended up collapsing beside you.. You felt so cold.."

Grillby lowered his gaze, sorrow sweeping within him and making him want to curl up in a ball and never move again. Sans' eyes burned into his neck, but he didn't take notice, too overcome with fear for the skeleton's health and the dream he had endured last night. When his friend finally spoke, he had expected some kind of sarcastic remark, a pun, or even a sympathetic reassurance. But instead, he got the same bitter terror that he felt reflected in himself.

"That wasn't a dream, Grillby. That happened in a past timeline."