One-shots [Reqs: 5]

Huh

Cross was in an odd mood lately. Every time he saw anyone, whether it be Nightmare, Killer, Horror, Dust, even Error, it didn't matter who, he'd get the urge to touch them. His chest would ache, his fingers would twitch, his mouth would go dry, he'd get the feeling like he was about to cry, and the entire time, he'd just stare at their hand.

He wanted to hug someone, to hold someone's hand, to have any kind of physical contact. A craving unlike anything he'd ever experienced, and it was so strong, it hurt. And there were some moments that made it worse. Horror's fingers brushed his when Cross was handed his dinner plate. Killer's headlocks were making Cross nearly burst into tears. Those few moments when Nightmare would snatch him up in his tentacles would worsen that need for contact. And that was just naming a few instances. Hell, he'd even started trying to get Error to tie him up just to get that feeling of physical contact.

He aggravated Nightmare more and more, riled up Killer more, helped Horror more, hung out with Dust more, and those fleeting moments of contact brought tears to his eyes every time. It was scary, and Cross wasn't sure what to do.

It was ridiculous, he mused while washing dishes with Horror. It was ridiculous that not even a year ago, he was itching to hide away and have no business with the gang whatsoever, and now he was craving interactions of any kind. He hated it. He hated feeling upset every time Dust patted Horror's back, every time Killer draped his arms over Dust or Horror, every time Nightmare grabbed anyone else. He wanted to be the one getting patted, getting Killer's annoying almost-hugs, getting Nightmare's angry grabs.

Cross ground his teeth, glaring at his sudsy hands. They were shaking horribly, the plate in his hands threatening to fall. A hand on his wrist had him inhaling sharply, Horror steadying his hand and taking the plate. "What's wrong with you?" Cross couldn't stop himself this time. His arm tingled from the touch, his sockets burning with desperate tears, his other hand snapping up quickly to grab Horror's, startling the other. "Wait..Just-..just wait a moment." Cross could feel Horror's gaze when his voice shook. He let out a shaky breath, gently rubbing his thumb over Horror's knuckles.

The haze broke suddenly, Cross jerking back as if he'd been burned. He snatched his arm back, tearing it from Horror with a shamefully pained noise. Horror blinked in surprise, confused and slightly concerned. "Cross??" The guard shook his head, covering his mouth and teleporting away before Horror could ask. He landed in his room, falling back on his bed with a stifled sob. His mind was racing, filled with images of hugs and cuddling that left his soul burning with longing.

-

Cross's sockets opened slowly, blearily taking in the dimly lit view of his room. He groaned, rolling over with a heavy sigh before getting up. Time to face Nightmare. He pushed down the prickle of excitement, ignoring the heady whispers of anticipation. He didn't bother changing clothes, leaving the room in his sweater and shorts. The cold floor made his bare feet burn slightly, but as tired as he was, he didn't care.

Nightmare answered quickly to his knock, the door to his library opening near instantly. Cross slipped in, feet padding quietly on the blessedly carpeted ground. "Hey, boss." Nightmare grunted, absently waving his hand. "What do you want, Cross." 

"I wanted to ask abou-" A yawn broke through his words, his jaw creaking with it. He sighed when it was over, stretching his arms over his head with a groan. Rubbing his socket, he continued. "I wanted to ask about our next supply run." Nightmare glanced at him, doing a double-take. His mouth parted, speechless. Cross stared back, waiting for an answer. When he did, though, the response wasn't what he expected. "Why are you dressed like that?? And where are your shoes??"

Cross looked down at himself, his sleep-ridden mind slow as the situation caught up with him. His face grew hot, cheeks burning with embarrassment. "I-I'm sorry, boss, I was tired and-" A harsh feeling washed over him, cutting him off mid-sentence. His hand fisted, tremors starting to run up and down his spine. Nightmare's tentacle continued to wrap around his arm, making the giddy feeling worse. "It's fine. Killer does this often, I don't particularly care about clothes as long as you don't start streaking." Cross nodded hastily, stammering out an answer before trying to pull away. He had to leave before he did something stupid.