Breakfast In Bed (Nightmare Edition)

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Summary: Nightmare is done with his follower's antics.

When Nightmare got ungraciously pulled from his slumber (no doubt due to outside interference), he felt a disturbance lingering in the air of his room; a monotonous force laying just beyond the lids of his closed eye sockets

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When Nightmare got ungraciously pulled from his slumber (no doubt due to outside interference), he felt a disturbance lingering in the air of his room; a monotonous force laying just beyond the lids of his closed eye sockets. A cyan eyelight sparked to life as his good eye socket slowly cracked open. Blinking away residual drowsiness, he lifted his head and stared blankly at the scene before him.

Killer stood in the shadows by his bedside, looming over him in a similar manner to a cat who cornered a mouse. His teeth stretched into a manic grin, and empty eye sockets gazed intently at the dark lord's negativity-laden form. In his hands laid a plate holding indescribable food that looked like something he very well could have pulled from Ink's kitchen trash can.

Upon noticing Nightmare's newly wakeful state, the LOVE-harboring skeleton somehow smiled even wider before saying in a singsongy voice, "Happy Mother's Day, mom!"

The Guardian of Negativity took a deep breath through his nasal cavity, releasing it as a soundless sigh. A brief glimpse at the antique timepiece on the nightstand told him barely ten minutes had passed since the clock struck five.

"Killer... It is too early in the morning for your nonsense."

"But-" Killer went to argue but halted when Nightmare turned his target-shaped soul blue and slid him out the room. The magic released him once he was in the hall, promptly taking hold of the door and flinging it shut with the adding click of a lock. His "happy" expression quickly devolved into a pout.

And his mood spoiled further at the chime of a familiar rookie's voice sounding from behind. "Dude, I told you it was a bad idea to bother Nightmare at this hour. He's not our mom either."

The hoodie-clad murderer spun on his heels, back facing the door, spotting a particular monochrome dressed skeleton leaning against the wall alongside a broken-headed one.

"I know, but he is scary like one! Just yesterday, I saw an Underfell Toriel nearly fire blast off the head of a Froggit because it looked her Frisk funny."

"That's because she is a Toriel. It's her job to be overprotective."

Horror nodded sagely in agreement beside Cross.

"Night is like that too!" Killer retorted.

Rather than arguing, the blander-toned half of the trio rolled his eyelights, pushed off the wall, and began walking away. His equally unconvinced companion snatched the plate of dubious food, following after.

"Aw. Come on, guys, at least help me make fun of him for being a mother hen around us all the time!" Killer whined at his retreating friends. "Guys!"

Then an exasperated shout echoed out the dark king's chamber, "Shut up! Either train quietly in the courtyard or go back to sleep."

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