Krossmare, requested by Flamango_55!
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Cross stared at Killer, his eyes wide and full of disbelief. "Nightmare's doing what?" Killer's smile twitched up slightly, "Hostin' a party. He wants us to wear this and be his guards. Yanno, like those fancy bodyguards that follow celebrities." He held out a tuxedo, "He told me to give you your stuff." Cross blinked at the suit, his face scrunching up.
"I am not wearing this. I'll look ridiculous." Killer clicked his tongue, shaking pressing the neatly folded tuxedo to Cross's chest. The wrapper crinkled as he pulled his arm back, leaving Cross to catch it. He snickered at the disgusted expression Cross wore. "C'mon Crossy boy. 's not gonna be that bad. He even made sure it was white on black, just for you." Cross eyed the suit, sockets narrowed.
"No. I'm not wearing this." Killer gave a delighted laugh, producing another package from behind his back. "I was hoping you'd say that." Cross watched in horror as Killer held out a ball gown. It was lovely, the skirts and lace a soft lavender. "You have to wear this if you don't wear the tux." Gleeful, Killer gave Cross the dress and patted his shoulder.
-
Cross stood silently in his bedroom, looking back and forth between each outfit. He'd spread them out on his bed after finding that his closet had been emptied. He rubbed the dress's fabric, frowning. The tux was made of the same cloth. Cross grit his teeth, turning away with a groan to press his forehead to the wall. This was so stupid. Nightmare, Nightmare, of all people, was hosting a party. His fingers spasmed. Killer mentioned that Nightmare had put the necessary products in their bathrooms, and Cross, being the aggro man-child he was, refused to go in. He'd heard Killer leave the restroom at least an hour ago, and now it was his turn.
Despite himself, Cross pushed off the wall, stalking back to his bed to glare at the clothes. Dress or tux. Once again, a wave of self-consciousness flooded over him, making him feel embarrassed about the situation. His jaw tensed, his frown deepening. Killer was going to laugh at him, he just knew it. It had to be some sort of prank. Maybe they were hoping to see him in something other than the same old outfit he wore every day. But then again, why would they do that?? They wore the same clothes every day as well, so why would he be targeted?
A little voice whispered that they were doing this on purpose to upset him. Cross shut his eyes tightly, breathing in deeply. Prank or not, he wasn't going to risk pissing Nightmare off. Unable to shake the uneasy feeling, Cross blindly grabbed at one of the outfits, stomping into the bathroom. He shut the door, locking it and dropping his clothes on the sink. He marched across the bathroom, to the second door on the other side of the bathroom. It was a shared restroom, between Cross's room and Killer's.
The lock clicked, and Cross's shoulder's dropped. Purposely avoiding looking in the mirror, Cross began to strip, his back to the reflective glass just in case. Within minutes, the mirrors had fogged over with hot steam and the walls were sweating from the heat. He snagged a towel from the heated rack, shutting the water off and stepping out. Wrapped in a fluffy towel, Cross took a second smaller one and dried off his face.
He spotted a pile of purple on the sink and froze, his eyes going wide. He quickly turned away, fumbling with his door, muttering curses. It swung open with a slam, cool air rushing in and nipping his bones. The cold was washed out under a wave of horror and dismay.
He'd grabbed the wrong item. The tux was gone. The tux was gone. Tears began welling in his sockets, his face starting to heat with shame and humiliation. He'd grabbed the dress, and the tux was gone, and he had no doubt that he wouldn't get to have it back.
Cross covered his face, backing into the bathroom and quietly closing the door. Breathing in shakily, he started to dry himself off. It was fine. It was completely fine. He could do this.
As soon as the dress was on, however, Cross found that it was incredibly loose. That could only mean one thing, and he wasn't ready for that. He hissed at himself, glaring at his reflection. Doesn't matter if he's not ready. He doesn't have a choice. So, sucking in a breath, Cross filled out the dress. It fit perfectly. Nightmare had to have measured him while he slept or something because it fit him too perfectly. Cross looked himself over, his face burning. This was awful. He looked awful. He swore under his breath, cursing himself for not paying attention.
He was far more uncomfortable than he was prepared for, and that was saying a lot. He glanced back at his previous outfit, staring longingly at his jacket. He blinked. Killer didn't say he couldn't wear anything over the outfit... Cross bustled over, taking the jacket and slipping his arms through the sleeves. He stiffly zipped it up, sighing as he relaxed. That was much better. Now he was nice and covered. He stuffed his hands in his hoodie pockets, stepping out of the bathroom. He started to pull on his shoes when a new item caught his attention. A set of heels sat near his bedroom door. Cross cursed.
-
Killer hummed as he waited beside Cross's bedroom door, absently flipping his knife. He'd heard the shower turn off nearly twenty minutes ago, so Cross should be out any second. He paused, hearing faint thumping and soft shouts. "Damn shoes..!"
He snickered, deciding not to barge in to see what was happening. Instead, he rocked back and forth on his heels, fiddling with his sleeves. Nightmare had picked some pleasant colors, Killer would admit. Like Cross, he'd been given two choices: A white-on-black tuxedo or a maroon gown. He assumed Cross had picked the tux as well.
Only, once the door opened and Cross stepped out, Killer was surprised to see the guard wearing the dress. "What the fuck, I thought you'd wear the tux." Cross glowered at the ground, muttering angrily. "I thought so too. Come on, let's get this over with." It didn't take a genius to know that Cross wasn't comfortable. Killer kept his comments to himself, giving Cross a break for once. The poor man looked like he'd burst into tears.
Cross walked awkwardly, occasionally stumbling and losing his footing. Killer eventually offered Cross his arm, and the other begrudgingly took it. They made it to the hall too quickly for Cross's taste, but Killer was excited. He immediately spotted Nightmare in the small crowd, his neutral grin growing wide. He slipped his arm free from Cross, paying no mind to the startled yelp, and started towards Nightmare.
Cross hurried after him, his ankles bending and twisting painfully. Finally, the inevitable happened, and Cross tripped. The heel of his left shoe caught on his skirts, his other foot buckling under his weight. One minute, Cross was fumbling with his balance, and the next, he was lying face down on the cold floor. Across the room, Error burst into laughter. Cross groaned, rolling onto his back and sitting up. He ignored Blue, slapping the Star's hand away. He grabbed a nearby table, pulling himself up. When he fell on his ass again, he bit back a scream, his face excruciatingly hot. Completely done with everything, he yanked his dress up and started to take off his shoes, cursing Killer the entire time. He nearly cried with joy as the shoes came off.
Gripping the shoes in one hand, Cross stalked towards Killer, his bare feet clacking against the floor. Shivers ran up and down his spine, the freezing marble ground making his feet numb. Still, he stomped over to where Killer and Nightmare were staring at him. Nightmare's grin fell at Cross's expression. "Are you not enjoying yourself?" Cross scoffed, glaring at Killer.
"No. I just got here, and already, I've screwed up twice." Killer raised his hands, "What'd I do??" Cross shoved his shoes into Killer's hands, snarling. "You ran off to join your prince, even though you knew I couldn't walk in these things. And whoop-dee-fucking-doo, I fell. Twice." Killer let the heels dangle from his fingers, his face amused. Nightmare glanced down at the floor, frowning. "Are you barefoot?"
"Of course I am. I just handed Killer my shoes." Nightmare's frown hardened. "Well, put them back on. And take that jacket off, it ruins the dress." Cross, already angry and upset, snatched his shoes and stormed off. He ducked behind Nightmare's throne, sitting on the floor with a huff. Muttering, he shrugged his jacket off and started pulling the shoes back on. There was a small purple mark on his ankle, from the latch's rubbing. Cross rubbed it, wincing. Great. He sighed, stretching his legs out and slumping against the cool, stone dais. He didn't move, his body relaxing slowly until his eyes closed. Fuck the party. He didn't feel like moving anymore.
He snorted. The party hadn't even started and he was already tired of it.
-
Cross woke with a start, instinctively forming a knife and swiping blindly. Someone yelped, and he stiffened. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, his vision focusing quickly. Killer had stepped back, his eyes wide. The blade dissipated, Cross hurridly getting to his feet. Unfortunately, he was still wearing the heels. As soon as he was up, he fell with a shout. Arms windmilling, he lurched to the side, yelling as his skull bounced off Nightmare's throne. He caught himself on it, swearing and rubbing his head. "Shit dude, you alright?" Cross growled in response, itching to attack.
"I'm fine. What do you want?" Killer stooped to the floor, taking Cross's abandoned jacket and draping it over his shoulder in a smooth motion before pointing over his shoulder. "Boss sent me to get you when you didn't come back. It's been half an hour since the party started." Cross sighed. "Right. I forgot about that. Well, I don't know how I'm going to do my job when I can't even walk." Killer was quiet for a moment. Then he took a few steps back, holding his arms up. "Here, try walking towards me. I'll catch you if you fall."
Cross bit back a retort, straightening and carefully stepping away from the throne. Biting his tongue in concentration, he wobbled and started making his way towards Killer. Each step was awkwardly placed and made his feet ache. He tried shifting into a different stance, glaring at the ground as he walked. His feet hit each other, the heels clacking every time. He grit his teeth, changing his pattern again. This time, he ended up stepping on his skirts again. Another change, another problem. By the time he reached Killer, he'd changed his walk seven times.
Killer frowned at this, his mind churning. There was no way Cross would make it through the night with how things were going. "Let me check something. Show me your feet." Cross, scowling, grabbed his dress and pulled it up enough to let Killer see his feet. Killer ducked his head, chuckling as he spoke. "Okay, I see the problem." Cross shifted, peering down at Killer. "And that is?" Grinning, Killer pointed. "You're not supposed to put two toes through here. It's only for your big toe."
"Oh."
"Have you never worn heels??"
Cross hissed at Killer to shut up, kneeling down to fix his shoes. Killer snickered, standing up with a smug expression. "Come on, let's try walking one more time."
-
"Where the hell have you two been?? I sent Killer to get you an hour ago!" Killer smiled, sheepishly motioning to Cross, who slapped his hand with a growl. "Technical issues. Cross can walk now though."
Nightmare glanced at Cross, his eye narrowing. Cross shrank under his stare, face warming. "Boss?" Night's eye flicked up to Cross's, flashing. His mouth twisted, making him look angry. "..You look nice." Cross lit up, purple spreading down to his shoulders as he sputtered. He didn't even think before he'd practically shouted, "I do not!" In his flustered denial, there was no filter between his mind and his mouth. "No-! Killer looks way better than me, look at him-!" Cross slapped his hands over his mouth, his cheeks hot. He didn't dare look at Killer, or Nightmare, staring at the floor instead. "...Thanks??" Killer laughed awkwardly, and Cross bit his thumb to keep from snapping at him.
Nightmare's voice finally came, sounding mildly amused. "Killer does look quite nice. It's a shame he didn't wear his gown. If he had, he would've looked as lovely as you do." Cross felt as if he'd faint, his vision wavering. He forced himself to look up, looking at Nightmare and Killer. Both of them grinned, sending another wave of heat over his face. Killer, who was blushing slightly, waved for Cross to follow them. "C'mon Cross, we still got a party to host." Cross swallowed his embarrassment, straightening and stepping up to stand beside Killer. He relaxed once he was back in the familiar territory, comforted by the knowledge that he was supposed to be a guard.
From then on, everything went smoothly. Nightmare roamed around, being surprisingly social and greeting people, talking to random guests, and ignoring Dream. He'd invited the Stars for the sake of not being rude. Since he liked to stick to older customs and all, Nightmare felt that he had to invite them. If he told them that he didn't want them to show, then it would be gravely offensive, according to the traditions he favored. So, the Stars were there, being their usual selves. Dream and Blue kept to their own little spot, chatting with each other instead of branching out like one would expect. Ink, however, was bouncing from person to person, talking it up and annoying Error to no end.
Most of the guests were Sans, and the rest were unnamed background characters with important storylines and backgrounds. Cross and Killer followed Nightmare dutifully, though Cross was getting more and more uncomfortable at the attention he was getting. He was startled out of it when Nightmare turned around and held his hand out. "Dance with me." At first, Cross thought he was talking to Killer. But when Killer didn't take Nightmare's hand, and Nightmare kept staring at Cross, he realized that Nightmare was talking to him. Confused, Cross took Nightmare's hand, yelping as he was pulled to Nightmare's chest. He flushed, trying to step back, only to be tugged closer.
"BoOSS-!" Cross stumbled as Nightmare led him around the room. It took a few minutes to get the hang of it, and when he did, Cross found himself enjoying the dance. He allowed a small smile to fall into place, following Nightmare's moves. He got lost in the twirling, his mind drifting off. He was dazed by the time he returned to where Killer was. Without thinking, he snagged Killer's arm and dragged the other onto the dance floor. Cackling, Killer played along, taking the lead. Cross whooped softly as they danced, feeling horribly dizzy by the time they got back to Nightmare. The guard switched places with the self-proclaimed king, grinning idiotically as they slipped away. Cross stayed back, swaying in place, and watching Nightmare and Killer dance. His eyes drifted around the room, sockets lidded. The night had started awful, but now? Cross sighed as Nightmare and Killer came back, smiling dopily at them. Now, he was having fun.
They took turns dancing with each other, sometimes stopping to take breaks before going back out. The hall was nearly empty by the time Nightmare declared that the party was over. Cross was sure he was drunk by then. His face was hot, everything was woozy, and for some reason, he felt like licking the black tears on Killer's face. It was odd. He hadn't even drunk anything, nor did he smoke. Maybe it was just from the content feeling in his soul. He laughed to himself, spinning in place and grinning at the ceiling. He was being dumb, but it was fun. Cross hummed, dancing in place to the music that still echoed through the hall. He was sure he looked ridiculous, yet he kept going.
Across the room, Nightmare and Killer watched him. "He looks like he's having fun." Nightmare nodded, his gaze locked on Cross. He could faintly hear his laughter. "I'd go over, but.." Killer trailed off, losing his words as Cross spun. Mouth dry, Nightmare only agreed quietly.
Horror and Dust were standing a ways away, both of them ignoring the other three. "How many crowbars does it take to zip your fly?" Horror mused the question, snickering as he said, "Seven." Dust solemnly shook his head, "Nine." He tipped his head, falling quiet. "Eleven? No, it's nine." Horror watched blankly as Dust had another argument with his phantom brother.
-
An hour later, and the hall was completely empty except for Killer, Nightmare, and Cross. This time, though, they were drinking. Killer and Cross were having a staring contest while Nightmare muttered angrily about apples. Cross's eyes drifted down, licking his teeth as he stared at Killer's cheeks. He glanced up at Killer, grinning. "C'mere." Killer raised a brow, leaning in. Cross mimicked the movement, leaning in close. His tongue darted out, swiping through the black tears. He pulled back with a hum, purring quietly. "Black licorice." Killer didn't move, blinking rapidly as he processed what just happened.
His face exploded with red once his mind caught up. He covered his cheek with his hand, gaping. "Cross, what the fuck??" Cross only leaned over to lap at his cheek again. Killer tipped his head away, pushing Cross away. "Stop that!"
Pouting, Cross crawled over Killer, sitting on his waist and pushing his shoulders down. Killer fell back with a shout, pinned to the floor and unable to move as Cross continued to basically drink the liquid hate. Nightmare watched them blankly, his tendrils curling curiously. He moved over after a few moments, tentacles slithering around Cross and pulling him off of Killer. "Don't eat that. It's gross." Cross, uncaring, squirmed in Nightmare's grip, grabbing ahold of the other and pulling him close in a hug.
Nightmare groaned, his face in Cross's chest. Betraying him, though, one of his tendrils wagged.
-
Cross woke up with a whine, rolling over and burying his face in someone's neck. "My head hurts.." He heard laughter, then Killer's voice saying, "You're the one who wanted to bust out the drinks." Cross stiffened at the sound of Killer, his face growing warm. "Wha-"
"Both of you need to hush." Cross jerked up, startled out of his mind. "Nightmare?!"
The dark being lay sprawled at his side, his one eye glaring up at him from where his face was pressed against the pillows. His voice was muffled as he growled. "What?" Cross sputtered, looking at Killer, "What- Why-" Killer chuckled, "Don't worry, we didn't fuck."
Cross covered his face, cursing and wishing he were dead. "Yeah, calm down. Though, you did lick the hate from Killer's face."
"Oh yeah, why did you do that?"
Cross groaned into his hands, shaking his head. Nightmare laughed, sitting up to lightly kiss Cross's skull, "It was gross." Killer copied Nightmare, echoing him with a soft snicker. Cross's face turned bright purple, his head snapping up. His fists clenched, his eyes narrowed. "You know what, fuck this." Nightmare went to ask what he meant, but he didn't get to. Cross turned on him in a flash, forcefully kissing him. He turned around to kiss Killer just as hard, pulling back to glare at the both of them. "Not a fucking word."
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The end~
Also, they fucked. Like, really hard. Don't ask how, you guys have imagination, lmao.