One-shots [Reqs: 5]

Pirates - 3

part 3, but it's only a filler chapter rip rip rip

dw tho part 4 will be longer, at least over 2000 words :]]

also!! if you don't know! i'm doing kross week, but it's in another book! head over to my Challenges book to read the first chapter!

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Cross stepped back from his handiwork, admiring it quietly. The blankets held firm, cutting off any and all visibility through the cell bars. He tugged on them, checking one last time, before tossing the tool he'd used onto his cot. He'd gotten permission from Nightmare to do some renovating, though calling it that was a bit of a stretch. All he'd done was put up some netting to store his belongings and nail a couple things to the floor, ceiling, and walls.

The pack of nails sat on the hand-made table, the case nearly empty from how many Cross had used. He was no stranger to doing such things; the bar had often needed repairs or reinforcements and X had always been too cheap. His father would rather force his oldest son to do the repairs than to hire a true handyman. Cross absently thumbed at the box's lid, pressing his claw into the cardboard to leave a small crescent-like indention.

Cross had always hated that about his father, though now, surrounded by strangers and shady folk, he was somewhat thankful that he'd learned enough skills to do things on his own. Like how to build a good stool. Frowning lightly, Cross moved to pick at the unevenly connected wood. An okay stool.

Cross glanced away from the imperfection, eyeing the stool in its entirety. He set his foot on top, eyes narrowing as he slowly pressed down. It didn't give. Well. Visibly pleasing or not, they were still rather useful. He slid the stool against the wall, testing the strength of the holding mechanism he'd put together. He wasn't exactly privy to having his stool sliding about and tossed on stormy nights.

It had taken hours of work on end, but he'd managed to whittle two slits on two of the stool's legs, shaped to interlock with two nails that stuck out of the wall. He pushed the stool into place and tried tugging on it. It worked like a charm.

"Woah, wait what-" Cross startled at Killer's voice, turning quickly. The blankets were being pressed inward, Killer muttering unintelligently as he kept feeling at the new wall. A scowl settled on Cross's face. He let go of the stool, stomping up to the cell door and throwing it open. Killer jumped away from him, exclaiming something ridiculous-sounding in another language before blinking. He put his arms down, pointing at Cross. "Did you do that?"

Cross crossed his arms, unamused. "What of it." Killer looked between the wall of blankets and Cross, his expression stunned as he sputtered. "Bu- When?? They weren't here an hour ago-"

"An hour was plenty of time to put them up."

"This fuckin' wall is huge, though!"

"What difference does that make?"

Killer paused, his retort dying as curiosity lit up his features. "..Can I see what's inside?" Cross groaned, pinching his nasal ridge. What a nuisance. He sighed, motioning with one had reluctantly. "Fine. But don't touch anything." Killer grinned, all but running into the room. He shouted another phrase that Cross couldn't understand, and then switched back to English, yapping about how impossible it was to get so much done so quickly. Cross stepped back into his room, deadpan as he watched Killer's exploration of his crafts. "I'm stuck on a ship with nothing to do but fiddle around. I had plenty of time."

Actually, now that he was nearly done, Cross almost regretted speeding through it. Now he had nothing to do again. Killer was testing the sturdiness of the stool, pushing down on it so hard that he hissed through his teeth. The stool held, though in that moment, Cross was hoping the table would combust and send Killer crashing into the floor. Sadly, it did not. Killer stepped away, his grin wide as he kicked at a stool leg. "Damn, Crossy, this ain't half bad!" Cross stiffened at the name, throwing a glare at Killer with a snarl. "Don't fucking call me that again."

Killer frowned at that, but unlike before, when he'd back down at Cross's anger, he did anything but, tilting his head and asking, "Why not?" Cross faltered. Killer scratched his cheek, humming, "Does it bring bad memories or somethin'?"

Cross clenched his fingers, gritting his teeth at the audacity. That was stupid. Bad memories, of it didn't, it brought good memories. Only, now, every memory was a bad memory. The good ones were the worst ones. He turned his head away sharply, gritting his teeth, and spat, "What do you fucking think, smart ass?" Killer was quiet, which, the longer Cross stayed here, the more he realized that Killer being quiet, was odd. Cross moved out of the doorway, throwing a hand out to it. "Get out of my room already."

Killer had a blank look on his face, nothing of his thoughts on it. Freak. Cross sat on his cot, a bit too forcefully than necessary, his voice quieter this time. "I'm sick of you."

Killer left the door open.

Cross huffed, getting out of bed and pulling it shut himself, locking it and stomping back to his bed. The hammer was thrown to the ground, the metal clunking on the wooden floor and staying there. Cross pulled his thin blanket over his head, feeling stupid and dramatic as he curled up beneath it and did his best to ignore the tears burning in his eyes.

The memories of XFrisk and XChara chased him into his nightmares, their voices plaguing him even in his sleep. Crossy. He'd always hated it when they called him that.

What he wouldn't give to hear it again.

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yeahhh! that's all :]]]]] thanks for reading guys, i'm sorry for my long absence, school is fuckin tough

i'm in a college class, an English one to make it worse [aughasa it's so hard guys] anyways! that's all for now :]]]

make sure to check out Kross Week in my Challenges book! love you guys :]