One-shots [Reqs: 5]

Welcome Back - Protectors

HEY FUCKERS I BET YOU MISSED ME :D

to anyone who hasn't heard yet, i found a majority of the stuff i lost, so it's all good :]

anyways, take this story!

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The night dragged by slowly, nothing but the buzz of electricity and the hum of the air conditioning. Dim, nighttime lights flickered in place of the glaring, daytime ones. When it was time, they would shut off with a shuddering clank and the brighter lights would snap on. The cycle allowed Cross to count how many days went by.

Staring at one fixture absently, he recounted the days; four in total, five if he counted this one. Too long, far too long. The tank water was stale, not to be changed for another two days. Still too long. They needed to get out of here. The doctor's tests were suspiciously easy, and with almost five days having passed, Cross was dreading the moment the other shoe dropped.

Dust stirred, heaving a sigh through his nose and rumbling quietly. His tail, curled and pressed against Cross's, twitched minutely as he shifted closer. Cross held him there in an embrace, doing his best to provide warmth. The chilled water they were in stunted his progress. Dust settled down once more, his faint purr dying off into silence. Cross blinked down at him fondly, slipping one hand free to smooth his fingers over the tiny crease on his smaller shivermate's skull.

Dust twitched again, mumbling a soft sound, and Cross's soul squeezed painfully. Tears welled in his eyes, a shudder wracking his body. With a whimper, he tapped his teeth to Dust's skull, whispering to him, Horror, and Killer at the same time as he swore, "I'll get us out of here..."

-

Cross didn't sleep. Horror could see it in the fuzzy edges of his eyelights, in the gaunt exhaustion that smeared shadows under his eyes. He knew it, because every time he woke up, Cross would be there, watching the door fiercely. And Horror could do nothing about it.

With each passing hour, the hurt, the desperation, that plagued Cross's features grew heavier and darker. The stench of fear was so thick, Horror could smell it from within his own tank. Stress slowly seeped into the smell, overtaking the fear and nearly masking it, despite it remaining just as heavily, making it clear that Cross was terrified. And Horror could do nothing about it.

The meager meals they were given never failed to have disgust curling in his gut. The moment they were out of this place t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶C̶r̶o̶s̶s̶ ̶s̶e̶e̶m̶e̶d̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶f̶e̶a̶r̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶r̶e̶s̶e̶n̶t̶ ̶s̶o̶ ̶m̶u̶c̶h̶,̶ ̶w̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶h̶a̶p̶p̶e̶n̶e̶d̶ ̶h̶e̶r̶e̶,̶ ̶w̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶h̶a̶p̶p̶e̶n̶e̶d̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶C̶r̶o̶s̶s̶, Horror would hunt them a feast. Whales, tuna, anything and everything. He would make sure they were fed properly. B̶u̶t̶ ̶h̶e̶ ̶c̶o̶u̶l̶d̶n̶'̶t̶ ̶d̶o̶ ̶i̶t̶ ̶n̶o̶w̶,̶ ̶b̶e̶c̶a̶u̶s̶e̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶y̶ ̶w̶e̶r̶e̶n̶'̶t̶ ̶f̶r̶e̶e̶,̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶y̶ ̶w̶e̶r̶e̶ ̶i̶n̶ ̶s̶o̶m̶e̶ ̶p̶r̶i̶s̶o̶n̶,̶ ̶t̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶p̶l̶a̶c̶e̶ ̶w̶a̶s̶ ̶a̶ ̶p̶r̶i̶s̶o̶n̶,̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶i̶t̶ ̶h̶a̶d̶ ̶h̶u̶r̶t̶ ̶C̶r̶o̶s̶s̶,̶ ̶s̶o̶m̶e̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶h̶e̶r̶e̶ ̶w̶a̶s̶ ̶h̶u̶r̶t̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶C̶r̶o̶s̶s̶.

The food would do them good, would do them all good, because Horror could see how the lack of proper and constant nutrition was getting to them. It made him angry. b̶e̶c̶a̶u̶s̶e̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶s̶t̶e̶n̶c̶h̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶f̶e̶a̶r̶ ̶i̶s̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶s̶a̶m̶e̶ ̶o̶n̶e̶ ̶h̶e̶'̶d̶ ̶s̶m̶e̶l̶t̶ ̶o̶n̶ ̶C̶r̶o̶s̶s̶ ̶a̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶h̶o̶s̶e̶ ̶y̶e̶a̶r̶s̶ ̶a̶g̶o̶,̶ ̶t̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶i̶s̶n̶'̶t̶ ̶a̶ ̶n̶e̶w̶ ̶f̶e̶a̶r̶,̶ ̶t̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶i̶s̶ ̶a̶n̶ ̶o̶l̶d̶ ̶f̶e̶a̶r̶ ̶r̶e̶n̶e̶w̶e̶d̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶H̶o̶r̶r̶o̶r̶ ̶w̶a̶s̶ ̶p̶o̶w̶e̶r̶l̶e̶s̶s̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶s̶t̶o̶p̶ ̶i̶t̶

He wished he were smaller, even just a little bit, so that maybe then he could fit in Cross's tank. He could hold him and comfort him  ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶l̶e̶t̶ ̶h̶i̶m̶ ̶k̶n̶o̶w̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶w̶h̶a̶t̶e̶v̶e̶r̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶h̶e̶l̶l̶ ̶h̶u̶r̶t̶ ̶h̶i̶m̶ ̶b̶e̶f̶o̶r̶e̶ ̶i̶s̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶ ̶g̶o̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶h̶u̶r̶t̶ ̶h̶i̶m̶ ̶a̶g̶a̶i̶n̶ ̶a̶s̶ ̶l̶o̶n̶g̶ ̶a̶s̶ ̶H̶o̶r̶r̶o̶r̶ ̶i̶s̶ ̶a̶r̶o̶u̶n̶d̶ and help him rest. He wanted so desperately to soothe the stressed lines that riddled his mate's face d̶e̶e̶p̶e̶n̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶o̶l̶d̶,̶ ̶f̶a̶d̶e̶d̶ ̶c̶r̶e̶a̶s̶e̶s̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶t̶,̶ ̶w̶i̶t̶h̶ ̶e̶a̶c̶h̶ ̶p̶a̶s̶s̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶m̶o̶m̶e̶n̶t̶,̶ ̶g̶r̶e̶w̶ ̶m̶o̶r̶e̶ ̶o̶b̶v̶i̶o̶u̶s̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶b̶e̶ ̶l̶e̶f̶t̶ ̶b̶e̶h̶i̶n̶d̶ ̶f̶r̶o̶m̶ ̶y̶e̶a̶r̶s̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶m̶a̶k̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶s̶a̶m̶e̶ ̶e̶x̶a̶c̶t̶ ̶f̶a̶c̶e̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶C̶r̶o̶s̶s̶ ̶w̶o̶r̶e̶ ̶n̶o̶w̶

With each new round of lights going on and off, Horror could sense the fragile something that kept Cross going begin to crumble. Steadily decaying, leaving Cross as he is now, the thresher curled up in a shaking lump of weak sobs and hoarse apologies. And Horror could do nothing about it.

The tired  ̶w̶o̶r̶n̶ ̶h̶u̶r̶t̶ ̶b̶r̶o̶k̶e̶n̶,̶ ̶h̶e̶'̶s̶ ̶s̶o̶ ̶c̶l̶o̶s̶e̶,̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶o̶u̶t̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶r̶e̶a̶c̶h  facade Cross wore to try and save h̶i̶m̶,̶ ̶s̶a̶v̶e̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶m̶,̶ ̶p̶r̶o̶t̶e̶c̶t̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶m face was there again by the time Killer and Dust were brought back. With Killer's warm body curled around his, Horror couldn't keep watching Cross. He tore his gaze away g̶e̶t̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶m̶ ̶a̶w̶a̶y̶,̶ ̶g̶e̶t̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶m̶ ̶o̶u̶t̶,̶ ̶g̶e̶t̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶m̶ ̶s̶o̶m̶e̶w̶h̶e̶r̶e̶ ̶s̶a̶f̶e  to focus on Killer, to methodically run his tongue over every inch of the other's body and be rid of the foreign smell of something sharp and wrong t̶h̶e̶ ̶s̶a̶m̶e̶ ̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶C̶r̶o̶s̶s̶ ̶f̶e̶a̶r̶s̶.  Killer's purr is weak with exhaustion. Horror nuzzles him with a murmur, a soft urge to sleep, and Killer listens easily, dozing off shortly.

Horror looked aside, his soul aching as he watched Cross settle in to stay up all throughout the darkness. He wished Cross would just understand that he didn't need to guard them, that he didn't have to throw his health away to protect them. And yet, he understood why he did it.

Cross had labeled himself, protector, and held on to that role with a fury, because if he wasn't a protector, if he wasn't a defender, if he wasn't fighting for them, he was nothing, he was less than nothing. And Horror could understand it, he knew how Cross felt about having his ability to defend, to protect, taken away, could see it was tearing him up inside. Watching over them was just as much for his peace of mind as it was for their safety. Safety? What safety? What could Cross do against whatever came through those doors? Nothing but warn them. That was all the safety he could provide. Horror knew this, he understood it.

Horror locked his own gaze on the door, settling in for the next few hours. He knew, because Cross wasn't the only one who relied on his self-assigned role as protector.

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THE END, UNTIL NEXT TIME :D