One-shots [Reqs: 5]

Ouchie

ahhh finally done dsjfaksjdf

ahem!

bad guys poly, requested by krossmare

enjoy!! also, this is the longest story i've written in so long jflkajsdklfa

----

Nightmare opened his eye, staring blankly into the darkness of his room. It was late. Very late.

His eye flicked to the side, expanding his senses throughout the castle. Horror was in the kitchen cupboard, Dust was in the attic, Killer was in his closet, and Cross was-

Nightmare slipped a tendril beneath the bed, pulling himself into the shadows. The void stared at him, beckoning, as he passed by. Nightmare kept his gaze forward, head held high, ignoring it. Murky openings, like stained black glass, shimmered in various places, each one leading to different parts of his castle. A glimpse of the living room, several doors to the training building, the slimmest line, no doubt leading into the kitchen.

Nightmare continued to glide past each one, further and further away from the gateway to his bedroom. He paused at one doorway, taking a moment to peer into it. Killer's closet was dimly lit, still full of shadows, enough for Nightmare to see the black teared skeleton curled up against the wall. Killer was watching something on his phone, a bloody knife gripped tightly in one hand. His free hand was marked up. A few light scratches, nothing that would hinder him. Nightmare watched, silent, worried, as Killer etched another line.

He snaked a tendril into the closet, his grin curling in amusement as Killer yelped and jerked away from the wall where Nightmare was slinking out of. "Boss?!" Nightmare snatched the knife, pulling it away, and he flicked the tentacle tip at Killer sharply. At least the other had the decency to look apologetic. Killer thumbed at the tentacle tip, smiling sheepishly. "Alright, boss. I'll stop for now." And that was the best he would get, Nightmare thought. He pulled out of the closet, drifting away.

A flash of white and purple to his left. He followed the disturbance, darting along each opening. A fluttering black and white scarf, a black sleeve, a pair of white boots, repeated glimpses of Nightmare's favorite oreo snack. He trailed after it, tracking it all the way back to Cross's room. Nightmare was worried, to say the least. He wasn't sure what to expect, didn't know what to think. He'd known that with sending Cross on a solo mission, that it'd take longer than normal. Only, Cross was just now getting back a month later. Hesitantly, though, Nightmare paused halfway there, losing sight of Cross. Perhaps it would be best to let him rest first before checking in on him.

That panicked aura, riddled with nervousness, shame, regret, and pain, was all Nightmare needed to know that something had gone wrong. The mission was supposed to be a simple scouting mission. If Cross was hurt, that meant he'd failed to stay hidden. Someone had seen him and attacked. Knowing Cross, he wouldn't immediately come to Nightmare out of shame. He didn't want to make it worse by showing up unannounced when Cross wasn't prepared.

He shot past every other portal, making straight for Cross's bedroom, taking one last peek. Cross stood in his bathroom door, hunched over the sink, the water running. The sound of the faucet slightly overshadowed Cross's labored panting, but Nightmare didn't need to hear it. He could see his guard flinch every few seconds, easily spotting the way Cross braced his arm on the edge of the counter, his fingers twitching minutely.

Nightmare sighed. Tomorrow. He'd check on him tomorrow.

-----

Cross was late. Nightmare watched the door plainly, though he knew Cross was nowhere near it. In fact, he could sense Cross still in his bedroom, very much awake, and stressing out. Nightmare sighed. He tapped his fingers on the table, Killer snapping to attention as Nightmare turned to him. "Yes, boss?"