Work Text:
It's times like these that make Killer forget about his life. He's snuggled into Cross's side, skull resting against the other's still-summoned abs. His boyfriend is breathing softly beneath him, and he can almost hear his soul beat through the fake flesh.
The room is quiet and dark, lit only by the weak glow emitted by Killer's soul. It's sitting in just the right spot between them that he can see the outline of Cross's face, but not his expressions. With how dull the ex-guard's magic has gone, it's safe to say he's likely asleep.
Even so, a hand cards itself over Killer's head, scratching slowly as if petting a cat. It feels nice, and he almost wishes he were a furry creature rather than one made of bone. Maybe then he would get to enjoy this more often.
"You're thinking something stupid right now, aren't you?" Cross's voice breaks through the silence, and Killer stifles a giggle. "I thought so. Care to share?"
…Pillow talk. Cross has never liked pillow talk before, always opting instead to cuddle in silence until they fall asleep. Killer's never minded, and it seems to bring his partner peace, so him trying to initiate it now is… "I think, maybe, your thoughts are more important right now?"
He can hear the smile on Cross's face when he says, "Nothing's more important than you."
"Even if I said I wish I were a cat?"
Cross laughs. "I think you wish for that normally."
They fall quiet again, and Killer nearly forgets his earlier concern. Nearly. "You're chatty tonight."
Cross hums, shifting his free hand to cover his sockets. "It's random," he says, "but where would you want to live if we ever get out of here?"
Killer blinks and uncurls himself so he's almost face-to-face with Cross. "Outertale," he answers with little hesitation, "so I can always watch the stars."
"Never thought you'd want something so peaceful."
"Never thought we'd be having this conversation."
"Touché." Cross turns his skull away, and his chest finally de-summons. "I guess I'm just thinking, you know? What would happen if we were to get out of here, I mean."
Escape. The thing taunting Killer's mind during every mission, after every time Nightmare has hurt him or the man he loves. At times, if feels so far away. Right now, it's like he's breathing it in.
Cross doesn't wait very long for a response before explaining himself. "When we get out of here, I have a place we could lie low in. A friend. We would stay with him for a bit, probably not too long, then we'd go off to an Outertale. One that's busy, but not overcrowded. We'd get a house on some far-off moon, with only a few neighbors. We'd get a cat or two, maybe a dog or something, and we'd disappear from existence."
When he finishes, Killer chuckles. "You've had this all planned out, huh?"
"Well, I mean—" Cross clears his throat, but Killer can still see the slight purple flush coating his cheekbones "—I've kinda been thinking about it for a while."
"How long's 'a while'?"
"A year or two. I started before we became whatever this is."
Killer clicks his forehead against the bottom of Cross's mandible. "Cross," he giggles, "you're such a sap."
"I don't see how! Don't you want to get out of here, too?" Purple eyelights are suddenly staring into his white one, and Killer flinches back just slightly.
"It's not that," he says. His soul flickers. "You're just talking about it like you'll be able to take me with you."
Cross narrows his sockets. "What do you mean?"
"He'll never let me leave. He'll never let you take me with you." Nightmare. Killer's leash is tied around his neck like a noose, and pulling on it too much will lead to little more than a sickening snap.
The worst part is, even if he does end up broken, Nightmare will fix it. No… the guardian could never let his favorite pet die. That much has been obvious since Killer was first kidnapped.
If that term is even correct. Sometimes, he forgets whether this was his choice or not.
Cross is speechless again, mouth pulled into a taut line. He shuts his sockets, then opens them, then shuts them again. It's like he's rebooting. It's cute.
"Criss-Cross, don't get me wrong. I want to—"
"Then I'll just steal you," his partner announces. A hand cups Killer's cheek, a thumb tenderly rubbing away a stray black tear. "I won't let him keep you here."
"Mm." He presses himself further into the touch. "Bold words, for someone so law-abiding."
"Killer," Cross says, voice firm, "I swear—no. I promise I won't leave you here. I'll take you with me as soon as I find a way out."
Killer can't hold back the gasp that slips past his teeth. A promise is a big thing for a Sans, even those not from an original-adjacent universe, like Cross. For him to say that…
"We'll get our happy ending, okay?"
Stars above, his love for this man grows with every living moment. "Okay."
Nightmare's tentacles encase him, pulling him closer to the guardian's cold chest. Killer's curled into a ball, inconsolable sobs wracking his form. He doesn't know why Nightmare hasn't forced him back into Stage Two yet. Through his despair and discomfort, he's able to feel the tail ends of nervousness bite at his soul.
He's probably quite the feast.
"Shhh," Nightmare coos, "you're safe, my Killer. You're here, you don't need that traitor." A hand pets his skull, but it feels nothing like Cross's once had.
Killer wails, trying in vain to pull his knees even closer to his skull, only to be stopped by the tentacles. "Please…" he pleads. It's not targeted at Nightmare.
His tears are wiped away, and the touch feels like acid. "You're not well, Killer. I shan't change you until you've calmed down a bit."
He can't calm down. It's been so long since he's felt as much as he is now. It hurts, in a way. He thinks Nightmare being the one to hold him hurts more. Cross was supposed to take him. They were supposed to leave together. Killer wasn't supposed to find a letter on the pillow of an empty bed—
He wasn't—
"He promised," he cries, "he promised he wouldn't leave me."
"What a vile man." Nightmare sighs sadly, but his voice is condescending. Crude. "I would never leave you." Killer's head is lifted forcefully, and he stares into Nightmare's single socket. "You do know that, right?"
He does. It's not reassuring. "I know, Night."
"Mm," their foreheads click together, "then why do you keep trying to leave me?"
"I just…" his voice trails off. Killer isn't sure why he tries. Nothing ever works, after all. "I just thought he loved me."
Nightmare's fake smile slips from his face, replaced by his typical scowl. "And I don't? What about my love—" Killer's suddenly yanked away, thrown against the wall on the opposite side of the room, "—makes me any less worthy of you?" The guardian towers over him. "After everything I've done for you, why do you still love him more?"
Killer can feel a new crack on the back of his skull. He can see his left arm, bent the wrong way. His soul aches, as it always does.
Nightmare continues. "I saved your life. I brought you in, gave you food, provided shelter. I've only ever treated you well!" He steps forward, and Killer swears he nearly grows another five feet in height. "Despite everything I've done for you, you still reject my care and try to leave me. You choose him, a traitor, over me, even after he's left you!"
"I…" Killer's ears are ringing. It's so loud.
"Well?" Nightmare's tentacles lash out, waving wildly about with pointed tips. "Speak up."
"I'm sorry." Tar flows down his cheeks in angry globs. It drops onto his coat, dying it a darker blue. His head lolls to the side, against his left shoulder. "I love you, Nightmare. I swear I do."
Nightmare doesn't seem satisfied. "More than you do that traitor?"
His soul wavers over his chest. It hurts to lie. "Of course."
"Good," Nightmare says, suddenly abandoning his anger. He scoops him up again. "I need you, Killer."
His broken arm is crushed in between the guardian's extra appendages as he's hugged too tightly. He feels caged. "I need you, too, Night…"
He's never going to be free.