One-shots [Reqs: 5]

Poison

"Boss." Cross rapped his knuckles against the door, calling through the thin wood. "Boss, are you awake?" It was nearly seven in the afternoon, and Nightmare hadn't even left his room. For Nightmare to be this late in getting up, something had to be wrong. A soft grunt had Cross blinking. He knocked again, "Boss?" Another groan. Cross turned his head away, mind churning. What was Nightmare doing?? It sounded like- He shook his head, frowning at his own thoughts and cursing himself for being so lewd. He shifted, trying again. "Boss?"  This time, he got an answer. The door clicked, creaking open the slightest bit. A foul smell leaked out through the opening, making Cross's eyes water. Nightmare's voice came, sounding tortured and sick. "Are you coming in... or not?"

Cross hesitated, but pushed the door open, peeking in. The smell hit harder, a putrid scent that had him almost gagging. "What the-"

"I threw up."

Cross stiffly covered his mouth and nose with his scarf, hurrying closer to Nightmare's bed, where he found the king slumped over against the headboard. "Christ, boss, what happened?" He stepped past a dark puddle on the floor. Nightmare gave another pained sound, tentacles squirming almost angrily. "I don't fucking know. I can't get up." Cross sighed softly, understanding Nightmare's unspoken words. He stuck his arm out, standing passively as Nightmare wrapped his tendrils around his offered limb.

It was a slow process, getting the king out of bed. Nightmare's legs refused to work as they should've. He cursed profusely, his arms windmilling once he was standing. Cross had turned away, facing the other directing. Nightmare wouldn't say, but he appreciated it. It was embarrassing, his fumbling and stumbling. His face was flushed cyan from nausea, and every movement made him want to vomit. Cross shifted uncomfortably, his arm starting to grow tired. He kept his gaze turned away, not wanting to see Nightmare like this. The way he leaned against Cross was uncharacteristic and it left the soldier feeling uneasy. He wasn't used to it. Nightmare finally steadied himself, only to curse as his legs gave out when he took a step. "Fucking hell."

After a long moment of silence, Nightmare groaned and Cross stiffened as he felt Nightmare's tendrils moving from his arm to his torso. "Wha-" Nightmare growled, cutting off his confused exclamation. "Shut it. Grab my legs." Cross, startled, caught Nightmare's legs as his boss basically koala-ed him. He was surprisingly light. Arms circled his throat, choking him. He wheezed, and Nightmare's arms loosened, though his tentacles tightened. It was odd. Cross wanted to laugh, he was so confused. When he'd joined, he'd expected nothing beyond a tsunami of commands and countless meaningless fights. But here he was, giving his boss a piggyback ride because he was too sick to walk. A weak chuckle escaped at the thought. Nightmare's arms grew tight. "Don't you dare laugh at me." Cross shook his head, denying it, unable to explain himself. Nightmare snarled in his ear, muttering to himself before finally letting Cross breathe properly.

Killer was the first person to see them. His jaw dropped, sockets grew wide, and Nightmare could see the gears turning in his mind. Any words he could've said died after a death glare from Nightmare. He followed behind them, silent and amused. Instead of teasing Nightmare's position, he went for Cross. "Is he heavy?" Cross gave him a side glare, hissing softly. "Shut up." Nightmare shifted, quietly whispering to himself. Was he heavy? Unfortunately, his close proximity to Cross allowed the other to hear him. Cross played it off as answering Killer's question. "He's pretty light. Lighter than Horror."

Nightmare shifted again, trying to focus on keeping his churning magic down. Killer hummed, "You sure? Looks like he's dragging you down quite a bit." Cross snorted, "Gravity exists, no matter how light he is. And he's literally right here. Don't act like he isn't, that makes it worse on you."

"Well, the boss himself is acting like he isn't here. So if anything, you should act like he isn't." Cross readjusted his grip on Nightmare's femurs, suddenly worried that he'd drop him. He tightened his hold, just slightly. Nightmare blinked, the sludge covering his body rippling at the worry that started coming from Cross. A wave of nausea washed over him. His eye widened. Oh no. Cross, unaware of Nightmare's rising panic, continued his banter with Killer. "Don't you have better things to do, Killer?"

"Nah, this is pretty funny-" Nightmare gagged, gritting his teeth against the bile gathering in his mouth. He roughly yanked Cross's hood down, startling him, and didn't hesitate to empty his nonexistent stomach into it. Cross shuddered, feeling the heavy warmth against his back. Gross. "That's disgusting." Nightmare groaned, wiping his face on Cross's scarf. "God, do you ever shut up." He silently held his hand out, staring at Killer expectantly. "What?"

"Give it. The knife. And open a portal." Killer huffed, muttering under his breath as he did as Nightmare said. Soon, Cross was cringing as Nightmare sawed away at his hood. Killer watched in horror as his precious knife was basically bathed in vomit.

The hood disappeared into a portal(Underfell, as always. Red screeched as a fluffy white hood flooded with nasty purple vomit was dropped on Fell's face.) Cross's scarf was tossed after it. (Red was horrified once more, watching as his brother was once again slapped with a second item covered in vomit.) Killer got his knife back. He held it with two fingers, his mouth twisted in disgust. "My poor baby.." The knife vanished into the portal as well. (Red, already traumatized, yelped as yet another item flew towards him out of nowhere. The foul magic on the blade sizzled against the table, where it had stabbed itself into.)

Nightmare, tired after moving his arm so much, slumped forward on Cross's back. He shut his eye, breathing heavily. His arms hung limply over the soldier's shoulders. Cross, worried that Nightmare would fall over, called Killer over. "Cut the straps off." Killer took another knife out, one that he didn't like, and used it to cut through the x-straps. With Cross's guidance, he tied the long belt around Nightmare and secured him. Cross relaxed. Now Nightmare couldn't fall.

Nightmare had watched them lazily, uncaring of what was going on. He'd occasionally growl if Killer touched him, but otherwise, he was too tired to do anything about it. Eventually, Cross continued his trek to the living room. This time, Killer was quiet about it. Nightmare was way off. It wasn't hard to see that he was sick. But from what?? Skeletons never got sick. Nightmare himself had told them that he never got sick. Maybe it had something to do with the balance? Nightmare had also said that if there were more positive feelings than negative, then it would affect him badly. Killer stared at Nightmare's silent form, his sockets narrowed. Nightmare never said it would've made him sick like this.

Dust was in the living room when they got there, dangling a chicken leg over Horror. With magic, obviously, as he was laying down on the couch with his eyes closed. Horror was scrambling around the room, paying no mind to any damage he left behind. Cross stared at them quietly. He needed Dust to get off the couch. Only...

"Get them out! Get them out!"

"Hold still! I'm trying! Ow- Fuck!"

"Dust, stop it!"

"KILLER!!"

"They're charged. You can't touch them without getting burned."

"Imagine what it's doing to Cross then! He's got at least thirty of them!"

"Fine."

Cross shuddered at the memory. He'd woken Dust from his nap once before. It hadn't ended well for him. Nightmare inhaled slowly at the fear coming off of Cross. He cracked his eye open, trying to see what was scaring him. He spotted Dust on the couch and grinned to himself silently. That explained it. He raised his head, his chin on Cross's shoulder. "Dust." The other snapped to attention, his magic vanishing. "Off the couch."

--

It was only when they contacted Dream, to Nightmare's displeasure, that they learned what was wrong. Nightmare had been poisoned. When Horror was found to be guilty, he merely said, "I used the wrong seasoning."

--

I lost motivation halfway through and was like, 'this is good enough, just wrap it up and post it.' and that's what i did. enjoy.

I was gonna do a story for Nightmare and Dream's birthday, like the devoted fan i am, but i didn't. so oops. all they'll get from me is a happy birthday.

Happy Birthday, Dreamtale twins.

okay the end lmao depression go brrrrrr