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zuzuelectricbugaloo · 2 days

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Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

Pairing: Sans/Sans, Crepic, Cross/Epic

Rating: T

CW: I don’t believe any apply, but there is non-sexual grooming and bathing together.

Synopsis: A slightly hurt/comfort oneshot for @twinribbonz Chimera Cross AU. It’s about a month after Cross and Epic reunited. Cross feels useless and terrible, his broken wings and grimy body irritating him but he can’t do anything to help it. Or so he thought. Leave it to Epic to help Cross without the other feeling like a burden, the other skeleton determined to get it through Cross’s head that self-care is mandatory and Cross deserves all the self-indulgence he can give. It’s totally only because they’re best friends, nothing else.

Word Count: 10,459

Cross scratched at his arms whilst stalwartly ignoring the unwanted itchiness of his grimy feathers and scales. He shifted in place and rubbed at the few spots he could reach. No matter how much he scratched, the agitated feathers and scales continued to fester and burn. His limp wings caught on the ground of his enclosure below him. An unwanted weight that ached just as much as the rest of this new accursed form he called a body, that he wished he could just tear and rip them clean off.

He continued to scratch, razor shop distals harshly scraping bone against bone and sending down feathers falling one by one to the floor, while the angry buzzing in his skull grew from a quiet murmur to a reverberant roar. His chest vibrated while he unknowingly began to growl in discontent and bitter, repugnant tears welled in his sockets.

Dirt and old crusted magic has gathered within his feathers, his scales, and deep within the grooves of his bones. The sense of wrongness, at having objects wedged within the spaces of his distals and phalanges and betwixt sensitive bone bubbled and boiled in the back of his throat in a rageful, soundless scream.

Before he could give in to the impulsive urge and violently dismember himself of his upper extremities, a familiar deep, sonorous voice calls his name.

Cross perks up, his pain almost forgotten entirely, as his Soul skips a beat faster from the flood of warmth that fills his chest. He can’t quite smile — he feels far too uncomfortable — though his tempestuous glare does fall into something more relaxed.

Epic waddles into the enclosure he’d designed for Cross post-metamorphosis while carrying a large crate with contents Cross couldn’t immediately discern.

“Sup bruh!”

“Hey dude.”

A quiet ‘hup!’ and Epic sets the crate down with a thud onto the floor. He straightens and slaps his hands together in a dramatic show of dusting them off. “How’s my favorite bruh doing?”

Cross could complain that feels extremely uncomfortable and gross and utterly wrong in a body that no longer felt like his own. Epic’s presence was both a welcome reprieve and a pressing reminder of his discomforted state.

“Fine,” he decided.

Besides him, Epic is humming and bustling around. One moment he’s bending forward and taking things out of the crate and the next he’s fiddling with a panel of buttons with scribbled notes he’d installed into the wall.

Cross curiously inspected the assortment of items Epic had set out. “What’s all this for?”

“You’ve mentioned your feathers haven’t been feelin’ too good lately, so I did some research,” Epic answered as he removed his leather gloves and set them aside. He rolled up his sleeves and reached for another pair within his coat’s pocket, “And they recommended this is the best way to care for feathers like yours.”

Annoyance and guilt is a tumultuous concoction that roils in his nonexistent gut and combusts outward into a vexed growl before he could stop it. He tried to hide his limp wings further but they laid, broken and useless just like him, tucked into his sides from where his draconic bottom half sat. “I already told you and Chara both, they’ll heal on their own.”

“I know,” Epic soothed. “I won’t try an’ heal them. I just wanted to clean ‘em a bit, that’s all.” Epic’s smile falls at the corners as he gazes purposefully over his body. The inspection has Cross defensively straightening his back and feathers bristling before he can think of why he’d do that.

“Figured you probably weren’t feeling too great after not showering for a hot minute.”

With dawning horror and shame, Cross realizes he hadn’t exactly been able to bathe after…everything. Shit, he hopes he doesn’t smell that bad after a month.

When Epic’s turned back around to fiddle with his machinery, Cross takes a quick sniff under his left humerus and winces. Nope, he smelled that bad.

At least Epic had been kind enough to not make a face, or point out how awful he smelled.

“An’ I know how much you like keepin’ it spick and spiffy,” Epic continued and Cross swiftly snapped his arms back into place. “So I realized my buddy hasn’t really treated himself in a bit, and ya boi can’t let that criminally offensive injustice stand! Sooooo,” Epic twirled dramatically, his trenchcoat swaying behind him with a flourish as he posed and winked at Cross to shoot him double finger guns.

“I’ve been workin’ on a lil somethin’ I think you’ll like.” Epic’s sockets crinkle into upturned crescents as he beams and gestures to the panel. “Drumroll, please!”

Cross’s mouth quirked up in the corner as he indulged his best friends and pantomimed beating drums in midair as he droles, “dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun.”

Epic flicked a switch and suddenly, Cross feels a vibration in the air and startles, craning his torso to the side and up as he watches the walls shift and expand around him until there’s an entirely new room opened before him, and Cross can’t help but gape as he witnesses his enclosure’s transformation.

It was a wide thing, with high-vaulted bars Epic had hastily concocted with aid from both his blasters and gravity magic until he’d formed a loft large enough to provide Cross with a roof over his head. A makeshift bed compiled of mattresses lumped together to support Cross’s draconian body and a blanket that had taken Epic a day to sew until it could comfortably cover and tuck Cross in. He’d insisted he was fine and didn’t need any of this, especially since he didn’t even need a pillow when he could simply slump back onto his larger dragon to sleep.

But of course Epic insisted, and Cross was glad his token protest was taken in stride. The “bed” and blanket made him feel less like a beast, and regained a sense of normalcy again.

It helped that it smelled like him, that when Epic was gone Cross could bring the blanket up to his nose indent and inhale, slow and deep, his friend’s scent and calm as warmth and rightness filled him as cookies and sweets flooded his head. How the intent Epic had when he sewed the fabrics together was absorbed into the soft, plush cotton, the weight of the echoed feelings of care and the desire to help and reassurance I’m here from the comforter better than the sweetest lullaby when the imprints whispered genuine devotion from the Soul.

If Cross had thought crafting him a room and bed was unbearably kind of his best friend, then this was a magnanimous gesture of…he couldn’t say, for it had stolen his thoughts before it had a chance to even form into words.

When Epic flicked the switch and the walls shifted, they had transformed into a doorway that revealed a familiar bathhouse come to life. Intricate wooden structures and ornate decorations, including a painted scene of a lofty hilltop and clouds blowing in the wind. Polished floors pan over to a shower head high above the ceiling surrounded by an intricate system of cords and what he thinks is a sling. Over by the center of the room is a raised, deep tub made of polished wood.

This scene, excluding the shower area off to the side, was something straight out of a movie. In particular, a movie they’d seen during one of their anime marathons.

Bewildered, Cross glanced down at his friend. “Is…Is this Spirited Away?”

“Yeah!” Epic beamed up at him. “It’s supposed to look like one of the private baths in Yubaba’s bathhouse.”

“Like the one where Chihiro bathes the river spirit?”

“Nailed it in one, bud.”

Unsurprisingly, Cross is reminded of how incredible his best friend is, his chest feeling tight with fondness tinged in awe.

“I don’t…how did you find the time to do all this?” How had he not noticed? He’d literally been sleeping in the next room over.

“One of the many perks ‘bout not needin’ ta sleep too much,” Epic explained. “While you snooze and adorably loaf the night away, I got ta buildin’. Interior design isn't really my forte, I’ll admit, but Color’s surprisingly got a real knack for it. He helped me out with some of the schematics.”

Cross ignores the twinge of irritation at the mention of the pyro-afflicted skeleton. Big deal, so what if Epic had other friends he hung out with? He’s being ridiculous.

And it’s not like Epic made Color a special bathroom from one of their favorite movies, Cross smugly thought. And Cross was Epic’s best friend, not Color.

Still, it rubbed him the wrong way, the thought of Color leaning against Epic as they talked and looked over Epic’s work. His marrow boiled at the thought of Color placing his arm over Epic’s shoulders, or around his waist, scenting him—

An annoyed growl rumbled out his throat before he could stop it. He promptly leaned forward and pulled Epic into his arms. Already well used to Cross manhandling him, Epic simply gasped in surprise before relaxing as Cross nuzzled him, rubbing his skull all over and pressing his nasal aperture insistently into the grooves of Epic’s cervical vertebrae, the angled curve of his sharp jawline, rubbing until he was content Cross’s — and not Color’s — scent had been marked all over his best friend.

“That’s actually amazing, dude.” Cross murmured into Epic’s neck before he pulled back to grin, satisfied, at the other skeleton. “I can’t believe you did all this.”

Epic’s grin turns sheepish. He rubs the back of his hooded skull as Cross smiles at him. “Aw c’mon bro. Like I said, what kinda bestie would I be if I didn’t try an’ make ya happy?”

You already do.

The embers of warmth that flickered at the thought now blazed, an inferno of wonder.

“A-anyway!” Epic suddenly laughs, a pitch high for his smooth baritone, his cheekbones tinted violet. “Since you’re an absolute unit of a mad lad now, I thought we could have a spa day. Get you nice and pampered for a quick pick me up. And after the one you gave me, heh.” He chuckled at his joke.

Epic…Cross realized what he was doing.

He was trying to make Cross feel normal, feel comfortable in his body and how their relationship hadn’t changed at all despite Cross’s drastic change of himself.

It still wasn’t give and take. It was always give and care, nurture and cherish, trust and adore.

“So your job for today,” Epic patted the fluff adorning Cross’s exposed ribs. “As the coolest best pal in the history of ever, is to relax an’ treat yo’ self. If you don’t mind, I’m your personal self-care attendant for the day!” He gently ran his hand through the soft and snowy feathers. “I know it’d be hard for ya to clean this part, so I’ll help with that.”

As nice as the thought of Epic grooming him was, the imagery almost pulling a low purr out of him, Cross still felt shame swirl low in his abdomen.

“I don’t—” Cross hesitated. He wanted that, but it made him feel weak. Undeserving.

Useless.

“I—I feel like a burden.” How pathetic was he that he couldn’t even care for himself anymore? That he was making Epic take care of him.

How selfish was he that he liked it…

“Cross,” Epic’s stern voice throws him off. “You’re never a burden.”

“But—”

“Never.” Epic’s not having it. “I’m doing this because I want to, because I care about you.”

“And, again,” Epic grins, lifting his hands and reaching out for him and Cross instinctively reaching back, their hands slotting together like pieces of puzzle despite how Cross was now more than twice his size.

“What kind of best friend would I be if I didn’t help my buddy out when he needs me?” Softer, he squeezes Cross’s hands, his covered thumbs stroking the back of Cross’s palms. “I wanna take care of you.”

Both of Epic’s eyes are open, white and violet eyelights gazing into Cross’s own orbs in an open display of vulnerability. It was a Soul melting sight, Cross’s chest becoming warm once more as Epic reveals one of the parts of himself that he hates the most to Cross.

“Let me take care of you,” Epic implored. A tingle travels up Cross’s spine.

Ambivalent towards himself, he’s torn between his hubris and exhaustion. Why was it always so easy to maintain a façade around others, but with Epic all it took was his sweet, earnest supplication, and Cross crumbled, desperate not to fall but he’d fallen anyway.

His mouth feels dry and there’s a fluttering in his nonexistent gut. He wants to say yes, to fall into the safety that was Epic and follow him wherever he’d lead them both. But his pride is always his undoing. “I’m not some baby to be coddled, I’m a soldier. I was the X-Event,” he spits out far harsher than he means to, “A threat to the very fabric of the multiverse itself.”

Epic nods. “I know.” He states it like it's a fact.

“I can take care of myself just fine.” No he can’t. He’s useless, just look at his broken wings and barbaric horrorshow amalgamation of a body.

“You can, and you do,” Epic agrees easily. “You’re phenomenal as you are Cross. I don’t doubt you’ll always be able to take care of yourself no matter what happens.”

“But we’re best friends, yeah?” Cross nods and Epic continues. “So we’ll always take care of each other. I want to take care of you always not ‘cause I think you’re incapable or impotent,”

How did Epic always know what he was thinking?

How could Epic read his unvoiced thoughts and feelings like a book, like Cross had always been a part of him and always will be?

He adores the solicitude as much as it terrifies him.

“It’s ‘cause you mean a lot to me.”

Iridescent alabaster and glittering violet orbs of life glisten within onyx voids. The loveliest stars Cross had ever seen, shining bright just for him as they waited patiently for him. Always patient, always kind.

“Yeah, yeah,” Cross’s voice comes out rougher than he means it to. “Same here.”

Those luminous mismatched eyelights impossibly brighten further as Epic’s smile stretched. “And it won’t just be you. I’ll join ya! Never been to a bathhouse myself so ‘m also pretty excited.”

Cross perked up. Epic would let Cross groom him?

He titters a happy chirp as Epic pats his side, a signal to let him down. Reluctantly, Cross leans down until he can set Epic back on his feet and onto the ground.

Cross realized something as Epic turned back to the panel. “Wait, how’re you gonna reach me?”

“With a little swing and a fling.” Epic pushes a button and a swing/like harness lowers itself from the ceiling to hang beside the scientist. He hooks himself into the harness and shoots Cross a wink before his thumb presses down on a different switch.

With a click he’s hoisted up until he’s brought to eye-level with a bewildered Cross. Giggling and idly kicking his legs in carefree asymmetric swings as he leans forward with a single digit to tap the front of Cross’s nose indent.

“Boop.” Cross blinked. “Like this.”

Epic fiddles with the controls on the harness to zoom around Cross, whose head jerks to the side to follow his movements. “So we can both sit back and relax.”

“Okay.” Cross’s Soulbeat quickened when Epic maneuvered himself down to the crate to scoop up a bucket full of various supplies. “First thing’s first, we gotta get all the gunk and debris stuck in your feathers out before we trim your wings. Not heal,” Epic hastily added before Cross could interject. “Just trim. To keep it from getting too long.”

Cross slowly nodded. Their length had been getting annoying. “Okay. What next?”

Epic’s hands softly stroke the feathers of Cross’s right side as he answers. “Then we get you soaped up and rinsed off in a shower to get the last of the muck off ya. And then get ya soaked river spirit style.”

Low, pleased purrs emit from his throat as Epic starts to weave his phalanges into the feathers of his right side, gently plucking and scraping off whatever dirt and unwanted waste he finds. Cross’s eyes slowly close instinctually as he relishes in the feeling of Epic’s careful ministrations against his body.

Cross’s voice was low when he questioned, “Why shower if we’re bathing anyway?”

“So you don’t lay in your own filth pretty much,” Epic’s humming paused as he explained. “And then you soak up all the fancy minerals from the bath. ‘S one reason why you stay in there for a while.” He plucked out a stick caught between Cross’s feathers and threw it to the side with a bemused expression. “‘Cause you wanna absorb all that good shit.”

“Skeletons soaking in hot, mineralized water…” Cross mused. “So, we’ll be making bone broth then.” Epic let out a startled bark of laughter, Cross’s mouth quirked upwards in a proud grin as his friend switched to another segment.

“LOL, more like cricket broth.”

It took him a second before he got it and Cross groaned with a roll of his eyelights. “I told you already,” Cross grumbled. “Dragon bod, I’m not an insect.”

“Technically y’are. Six limbs~” Epic retorted in a playful, sing-song voice.

“I’ll smack you with my tail.”

Epic’s decadent, silken, sonorous bass of a voice is going to be the death of him, even in jest, as he jokes, “Gonna whip me for bein’ disobedient?” Epic purred, meeting Cross’s gaze as he wiggled his boney brows and winked. “Kinky.”

Cross flushed purple and contemplated if bucking Epic off of him would be worth it or not. He was about to snark back when Epic’s leather glides across his hind leg’s feathers and dips down and betwixt them until he’s stroking his body itself.

The full-bodied shudder travels up and down his spine like he’d been zapped by electricity. Immediately after his head goes warm with the rest of him as his top half slumps forward slightly and he groans in sweet, sweet relief. That awful, incessant itch that had plagued him for weeks was finally being taken care of and oh, stars, he never knew how much he’d needed this until now.

“Poor thing,” Epic murmured under his breath. Unaware Cross’s hearing had sharpened with the rest of his senses and caught on. “This must’ve been a real bitch to deal with.”

Epic is methodical with his touch, each caress of his gentle hands running through Cross’s feathers sends a soothing sensation throughout his entire body. Rhythmic strokes and careful attention to every one of his snowy plumes evoke a sense of relaxation and trust so deep Cross could fall asleep upright from the bliss.

But as good as this felt, as nice as the tentative scratches against the heated flesh beneath his plumage was, Cross wanted more. He wanted to feel Epic’s hands, free from the gloves, run over his body and through his feathers entirely.

He wanted his mate to groom him proper, feel no physical barrier between them in this intimate moment of connection.

Cross flushed when he requests as casually as he can, “Can you take the gloves off?”

Epic pauses. His fingers retreat from the feathers they’d been stroking and Cross almost growls in vexation that he’d stopped those heavenly caresses. “Oh, sorry bruh.” Without a second thought Epic slid his gloves off and stuffed them in his coat pocket. “Must be uncomfortable feelin’ leather rubbin’ all over ya.”

Rhythmic strokes, gentle caresses, Epic’s rich voice full of warmth and deep with affection. “Better?” He asked.

Cross nodded, his rolling purrs drowning out all his remaining thoughts. “So much. Thanks, dude.”

“No worries bud.”

Epic hated his hands. Despised their mutilated appearance, hated exposing his hands because of the holes in the middle of his palms. Results that were forced on him by unwanted experimentation and made him resemble his bastard creator.

He should be ill at ease, from not only having them displayed but also touching someone dear to him.

But he can’t. And he isn’t. Instead, he feels content, fluttering warmth deep in his Soul and in his chest as Cross melts underneath Epic’s touch. It's like his Eye, how he only felt truly comfortable with raw vulnerability when it was with Cross. Something about his best friend just made it seem so easy.

Eventually, Epic reaches one of the limp wings. They’re mostly numb to Cross, but the skeleton tenses anyway when Epic begins to groom the wing at the plumage of the upper wing coverts.

Carefully, slowly, Epic gently plucks at and sifts through the feathers, far more tentative than with the feathers on Cross’s body. Sliding and gingerly pecking with his phalanges any clutter he finds and lets it fall to the floor as he maneuvers himself within his harness.

Cross preens, chirping happily when Epic swiftly moves from the down feathers to the primary and secondary coverts. Once he’s reached the tip, he pauses, stroking the feathers as he glances up at Cross.

“Is it alright if I start trimming?”

Cross doesn’t realize the affirmative he vocalized was a chirp and not a word. Epic nodded regardless, lifting the wing’s tip with one hand and holding a pair of scissors in the other. Epic made sure he lifted the plumage to clearly identify the feather shafts. He read to avoid cutting those to prevent injury. With the smaller feathers above the primary wings as his guide, Epic carefully began the process of trimming Cross’s wing.

Unfortunately for Cross, because his wings had been broken for weeks, he couldn’t fully enjoy the feeling of Epic’s grooming and now delicate trimming. Still, he could faintly feel Epic’s tender intent, and that was enough for Cross to watch in content as Epic cared for him.

Slow and careful, he cut, trimming the feathers one by one and meticulously making his way down the wingspan.

While Epic grooms him, Cross can’t help but think how nurturing Epic is towards him — this is no special case. He’s just always taken care of Cross in some way, some form. From movie nights to beach escapades, arcades, their regular hangouts. He’d always made Cross feel cared for without being a burden.

He thinks about how nurturing and kind Epic is to everyone, really, especially children. How Epic made something as troublesome as dealing with those tykes seem easy and even fun whenever he interacted with them. That made Cross think maybe he’d want to be a parent someday, if he had a partner as good as Epic.

He thought of how much kids like Palette and Goth adored Epic, calling him uncle and laughing like mad when Epic pretended to pull them over for speeding in his “Chick Mobile”, Epic adorned with aviator shades and a ridiculous glued on mustache as he chased after the cackling children with a rubber chicken.

“Officer Bruh reporting in! We got a Bruh-1-1, bruh! Get back here and stop resisting arrest!”

“You’ll never take us alive, copper!” Goth shouted while Palette turned to shoot at Epic with his bubble gun. Epic dramatically dodging and whooping in a series of acrobatics to avoid the harmless projectiles as though it was truly deadly.

“Yeah, these cookies are all ours!” Palette exclaimed and defiantly chewed on said stolen goodie. A bubble popped on Epic’s sweater.

He shouted, grasping at his chest before dramatically tumbling until he collapsed and spasmed on the ground. “Officer down! Officer down! Bleh,” Epic stuck his tongue out and went still, his hands placed over his chest as he pretended to be at rest.

The kids laughed like it was the funniest thing ever.

All Cross did at the time was chuckle and film per Epic’s request for the kids’ parents later, unable to push his bright grin down or explain the fondness that turned his Soul into mush.

Unbidden, he thinks of how that moment was only one of many more, definitive proof that Epic would be an amazing parent. A compassionate father, better than his and Cross’s ever were.

He wondered if Epic would admire him if Cross got along with kids, too. If Epic would watch him as Cross would watch Epic, admiring and unbearably, unfathomably soft. As Epic joined the kids in their goofy, nonsensical misadventures. As Epic read to the Souls of the children lost that were bound to Color.

As Epic smiled down the bed in front of him, gently tucking in a protesting XChara that they weren’t technically a child, he didn’t need Epic to tuck them in. Epic simply nodded with understanding as he brushed XChara’s bangs out of their face and their eyes drooped shut. “I know. Sleep well, bud.”

Cross recalled a picnic they’d gone on, laying side by side and gazes tilted to the stars above as they talked about nothing and everything. How Epic had confided he’d always wanted kids of his own, but wanted to raise them alongside a loving partner. Yet he seemed undesirable to most and had set that dream aside into a little box of wishes within the blanket of the starry night. Maybe someday, he’d sighed. The stars glittered with his silent longing.

“We’ll still be best friends, right?” Cross’s voice wobbled when he’d thought of Epic distracted by a blurry lover and equally unknown expressions of Epic’s children in Cross’s mind. Dismissing Cross in favor of his better, more exciting romantic interest, strolling off with his arm around their waist and their children trailing after them. Leaving Cross behind.

Epic had laced their hands together and smiled at Cross with eyes as deep and profound as the ocean, the light of his Soul shining among the constellations of the night.

“Always,” he’d promised. “You and me against the world, forever and always, Cross.”

Cross had felt his chest tighten at the time. He’d stared at Epic while the older skeleton stared back into the sky before he eventually tore his gaze away to look up to the bright lights himself. Maybe someday, he’d agreed, their hands intertwined together

An insistent call of his name pulls Cross out of his thoughts. He blinks into clarity and turns to his left to see Epic, who’d been tapping Cross’s side to catch his attention.

“Yeah dude?”

“You’re all set bud.” Epic gestured to the side. “Wanna head on over? Last thing we need to do is shower and then we can soak the night away.”

“You too, yeah?”

“Sure am! But we oughta get you taken care of first big guy,” Epic swings around, fiddling with his panel and tapping away at buttons and switches as he spoke. “According to what I searched, you’re not ‘sposed to shampoo or soap feathers ‘cause it would make it too ‘oily’ and hard to fly. Buuuut,”

Epic spun around to face Cross once more as he hung in front of him. “You don’t wanna fly anytime soon right?”

With his useless wings? “Nope,” Cross agreed.

“So I’ll leave it up to you man. D’you wanna try out shampoo and conditioner or soap? I got a bunch of scents for both for ya to pick from.”

Epic baps his fist against a panel on the wall with a small thunk and Cross is gobsmacked when it opens with two shelves of bottles of various colors and shapes popping out. Cross would’ve questioned it but then he recalled something like that was also from the movie and dismissed his unasked question.

“Take your pick! I got your old favorite, cherry blossom, but a whole bunch of others too. There’s rose, coconut, chocolate, vanilla, elderflower, and—”

“Wait, Epic,” Cross interrupted. “If we’re gonna soak in a mineralized bath, wouldn’t these scents be pointless?”

“…” Epic visibly deflated. Cross tried not to laugh.

Violet paints his cheekbones as he purses his mouth and glances side to side. “…Nuh uh.”

“Thought about everything except that, huh,” Cross teased.

“Aw, maaaan,” Epic pouted. “There goes all my G.”

Cross patted him on his back. “It’s okay. I can just use them later, no worries.” He plucked out a bottle of rose scented body wash. “And these are just a few bottles. It’s not like you got buckets of these or anything right?”

Epic was silent.

“Dude!”

“What?! You’re huge!” Defensively Epic waved his arms to gesture to all of Cross. “I had to make sure I had enough that you could use and have variety!”

This time Cross did laugh, unable to resist when picturing what the poor cashiers’ baffled faces must’ve looked like when Epic bought a boatload of soaps and washes.

“Oh stars,” Cross chortled. “And they just—they just let you buy all that?”

“I mean, it’s the same place I get all my condoms, so I’m pretty sure they assumed I’m a sugar daddy or something.”

Cross lost it.

“Uh huh,” Epic droned while his best friend laughed so hard he cried. “Yuuuuuup. Laugh it up. Get it all out of your system. Uh huh.”

“Y-you didn’t even try to defend yourself? Mention how you use those as a gag?”

“What, and go, “hey, so, I’m not actually a sugar daddy plannin’ to get real freak-ayyy, but I need you to keep this on the down-low ‘cause I don’t want anyone to know ‘bout this,” and that doesn’t sound hella sketch to you? Nah, man, nah.”

Cross wheezed, his laughter so loud and hard his ribs ached. Once he’s calmed enough, his breathing no longer laborious and interrupted by only the occasional giggle, he wipes the tears gathered at the corners of his sockets away.

When his hands fall away from his eyes the sight of Epic smiling is revealed, his gaze tender and full of affection that has Cross’s nonexistent gut doing flips and confusion filling him at why he wants to break his gaze away from that tender look.

Mana rushed to his cheekbones. Somewhat embarrassed, he queried, “What?”

“Nothing, nothing. It’s just…it’s been a while since you laughed like that.”

What? No, it couldn’t have. Epic always made him laugh like no one else did, why wouldn’t…?

Oh. Right.

His smile fell.

Cross hasn’t laughed that hard since he’d found Epic after…after whatever happened to him. That turned him into this.

His arms began to itch.

“Sorry, I got side-tracked.” Epic tapped at a bottle. “Did you pick one you wanna try?”

Quietly, “Chocolate, please.”

“Alright.” Epic tap taps, and then, he’s fluttering around Cross like he had earlier when grooming his wings, popping the bottle open and sliding it into the wall. A few mechanical wirrs later, a crane carrying a bucket slowly drifts side to side as it tilts, the scent of warm chocolate making Cross’s mouth water as the liquid soap is spread until his dragon body and wings are coated in the substance. Once it’s empty, it’s brought back into the wall, the panel closing shut behind it.

Cross shudders at the feeling, his feathers registering the cold and blocking the sensation from the heated flesh beneath the plumage only for a moment. Even so, his eyes burn. His sockets well with tears he forced himself to hold back as he blinked.

Epic’s habitual humming has picked up. He starts to gently lather the feathers as his phalanges glide between the individual plumes and shifts them apart to gently scrub the irritated flesh beneath.

Cross greedily soaks up his intent. Relishes the feeling of Epic gingerly scratching and scrubbing to remove stubborn bits of dirt and grime. He tries to force back the familiar sensation of his throat tightening up, of his face burning and liquid mana surging and pushing to be released.

“We’ll get you soaped up real good so all that’s left is a rinse.” Epic speaks but it’s hard to hear with the growing sound of his own inner voice reprimanding him. Scolding Cross to toughen up, repeating his soldier’s mantra “calm emotions, calm Soul.”

Don’t cry, this is supposed to be fun. This is supposed to be nice. Epic’s trying so hard to make things normal again, why can’t you do just this one thing right?

XGaster’s cold voice overlaps Epic’s, whatever he’s saying about his wings and if it hurts if he moves them a little is drowned out by that awful, cruel gaze and disinterested tone.

“Useless boy—”

He’s fine, everything’s fine. Don’t cry, don’t cry, Cross. You’re not a crybaby.

“—failed experiment—”

A cold, dark room. An observation table. His wrists shackled to the wall. A blur of crimson and his own soundless scream ringing in his skull. His legs, he couldn’t feel his legs!

“You are worthless to me, Sans.”

And just like everything else, he failed to do one thing.

Purple tears fell from his sockets in rivulets.

He was always useless.

“— good, think I got every — Cross?”

Epic zooms over, hands hovering beside Cross’s skull but hesitating to touch him. Cross can’t fight back the bitter sob but resolutely keeps his mouth shut. The garbled cry is followed by yet more tears.

Cross leans forward until his zygomas are cradled in Epic’s soothingly cold hands against his heated skull.

“Hey hey hey, buddy, what’s wrong? What happened?” Epic’s thumbs wiped the translucent purple magic as it poured out his eyes. “Did I touch you somewhere bad and it hurt? I’m so sorry, I can—”

“No, no, ‘s not you,” Cross sniffed, desperately trying to shove the tears back but they refused. Useless crybaby. “I-I, I just, I got—”

He couldn’t bear to look at his best friend’s face, the blatant concern and worry worsened the tight feeling in his chest and he was drowning in his tears, self-reproach and loathing bitter on his tongue and burning his aching throat.

When Cross tilted his skull in shame and looked down, he noticed Epic’s pants were covered in soap. In handprints missing circular center shaped prints.

He’d wiped his hands to cradle Cross like he was something precious, something too valuable to be sullied by soap.

Somehow that noetic sentiment breaks Cross further and he snarls. Trembling with rage and tears while Epic steadfastly held him as he fell apart.

“I hate this body,” Cross raged. His arms burned like they were on fire and something was tearing him apart from the inside out. “This—this isn’t me! This isn’t—!” Helpless, resentful tears welled in his sockets. “I hate it, Epic. I hate it!”

“I can’t fly, I can’t fix myself, I can’t even remember who did this to me or how this happened!”

Useless, useless, useless!

“I know, Cross.” His knuckles are brought to his mouth, the kiss a forlorn apology of understanding and empathetic sorrow. “I know.”

Cross’s massive body trembled and his chest heaved. The snarls tumbling out his clenched jaws feral and impossibly loud in the echo of the enclosed room.

Yet Epic held onto him anyway, undeterred and determined. His body used to fit perfectly in Cross’s arms, but now Cross could pin him down with his torso alone.

That thought made his jaws ache with an indiscernible urge to bite down, to sink his teeth into Epic and see if he’d try and fight Cross then no he wouldn’t he’d never hurt him, not now nor ever but Cross hurts, he wants to scream and cry and rage and tear himself apart until he’s got nothing left to give if it would only mean his agony stop—

It’s okay/I have you/I’m here/Come back to me

Cross blinked in surprise, shuddering from the abrupt sound of a familiar, beloved voice in his head and the tingle of pleasant, soothing cold running up his arms. He chirped in confusion, sockets slowly opening and closing until his rage subsided and Epic’s visage was clear before him.

A steady, persistent murmur. “Hey, sweetheart,” Epic’s voice greeted him. Cross realized Epic’s hands were insentently holding Cross’s wrist. Keeping Cross’s claws pressed up against Epic’s chest as something continues to beat below his sweater and emanate that soothing, delightful cold. Waves of Epic’s intent pour through that point of contact and rush up Cross’s arms and to his own steadily calming Soul.

It’s okay/Please come back/I'm here/Its okay sweetheart

Epic’s forehead was pressed against Cross’s and his other hand softly stroked his zygomatic arch. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”

Sweetheart? Cross?

“It’s okay, you’re safe. I promise. I have you, okay?” Slowly, Cross nodded. Unwilling to move too fast and remove the pointed contact between them. Unwilling to tear his gaze away from gentle ivory and violet lights.

“That’s it, Cross,” Epic smiled. The praise floods Cross’s system with a rush. His growls eased into comfortable, pleased purrs. “Good job bud.”

Yes, he was good. Cross’s tail thumped behind him a light sweep of a wag.

“There we go. That’s it. Just keep focusing on me, listen to my voice.”

How could he not? It was so lovely, the richest baritone Cross had ever heard. Smooth and decadent, better than any dark chocolate he’d tasted, silken and sonorous. Cross could listen to Epic speak for hours on end and he’d never grow weary of that melodic voice.

“Yeah, just like that.” Epic sighed and slumped forward, letting his arms fall back to pull Cross into a tight embrace. The anxiety and concern evaporated once Cross had calmed and now left the older skeleton feeling exhausted from the crash of adrenaline. “Jeez, bruh.”

Cross wrapped his arms around Epic, happy to hold his dearest friend close.

“You good?”

Cross nuzzled the back of Epic’s collar with a low purr. It took a moment for the question to register, and when it did, Cross forced his mouth to move. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“It’s fine, long as you’re okay,” Epic reassured. “Haven’t had to use the Soul for something like that for a while. But I kinda freaked when you tried to tear your arms off man.”

“I did?” Epic nodded. The movement caused his nose indent to rub against Cross’s neck.

“Yeah. You couldn’t hear me so I gambled. Glad it worked.”

“You called me sweetheart.” Butterflies fluttered through his chest at the reminder.

“Well, yeah,” Epic pulled back from the embrace to look into Cross’s eyes and defend himself. “‘Cause you’re sweet, an’ it helps talkin’ through things and being complimented—”

“No need to explain. You helped me the best way you could.”

“Yeah, exactly! You get it.”

“I do.” Cross smirked. “Sweetheart.”

Delight bloomed in Cross’s chest along with the tint of violet in Epic’s cheekbones. “Okay but when you say it, it sounds gay.”

“I’m bi.”

Epic snorted. “Bruh, I know.”

A persistent itch under his plumage. “As cute as you are flustered,” Cross grinned while Epic sputtered. “The soap is starting to dry and I’m getting kinda itchy—”

“Huh? Oh. Oh! Yeah, let’s get your rinsed off.” Epic pulled out of the hug completely as he zoomed around in his harness. Flicking switches and popping panels open until the shower head turns on and comfortably warm water gushes out in a pleasant stream onto Cross’s draconian half.

Epic handed him more of the bottle and a brush, saying he could go ahead and start drubbing himself off and Epic will help with other parts Cross can’t reach once he’s finished with his lower body.

The water is powerful enough that Epic didn’t need to do too much, fluttering in the air like a hummingbird as he brushed and smoothed Cross’s feathers and skin until he’s satisfied the soap had been washed out. Then he lowered himself to Cross’s scaled legs, brushing the powerful limbs while whistling a merry tune as Cross watched him from above in curious amusement.

The debris, trimmed feathers, and old scales pool and circle the drain. Already, Cross feels refreshed and like a brand new skeleton as he sees and feels vindictive pleasure as the filth that had bothered him for so long circles the drain.

Once Epic’s finished with his legs, he returns to Cross’s eye-level and gestures to his back. “Need any help?”

Cross could reach it just fine on his own, but since Epic offered…

He hands Epic the brush. “Yeah, thanks.”

“No prob.” Cross shivers as Epic carefully scrubs the back of his spine and ribs, cautiously dipping the brush between the grooves and purposefully keeping the pressure light to prevent any accidental mishaps with the sensitive bones.

“How do you feel?” Cross hummed.

“Much, much better,” Cross confessed. “I had no idea how much I missed showers ‘til now.”

“Mhmm.” Epic agreed, maneuvering the shower head to rinse Cross’s ribs. He checked to make sure he hadn’t missed any spots while he mused, “It’s the simple things that are often taken for granted most.”

For Epic, it was a peaceful night’s rest.

For Cross, it was his fully skeletal body.

Epic pulled back, the swing carrying him off of Cross’s side. “Aaaand you’re all set! Lookin’ squeaky clean and smellin’ great, bruh.” He patted Cross on the shoulder. “Why don’t ya go ahead and get comfy in the tub and I’ll join you after I rinse off here?”

Cross shook his head. “No.”

Epic’s smile fell at the corners before he righted them, brows furrowed in confusion. “No? Why not?”

“It’s your turn.”

“Uh, yeah? ‘S why I’m gonna shower,” Epic trailed off when Cross grabbed the hem of his sweater and lightly tugged once with a pointed look. Understanding dawned across his features. “Oh, ‘m fine bud, you don’t have ta—”

“I want to.” Cross insists. Satisfaction curls deep in his gut when his claw trails up Epic’s back, the sharpened talon-esque phalanges catching on the material of his cloak and how his sharpened hearing catches the audible gulp his best friend tried to hide. “You said I could earlier,” Cross reminds him, “That we’d be helping each other.”

“I did,” Epic agreed.

“Do you want me to see if I can grab you a set of shorts or…?”

“Nah, ‘s good,” Epic dismissed with a careless wave of his hand. “Put on a pair of swimming trunks under the usual pants just for today.”

“What? Why not just wear the trunks instead of pants in the first place?”

“Habit, I guess.”

“Okay then weirdo,” It was said far too fondly to be an insult. Cross tugged at Epic’s sweater. “Off we go.”

Epic chuckles and slips out the harness and onto Cross’s hip. Rolling his shoulders back and letting his coat fall onto Cross while the soldier watched with unusual anticipation.

“Heh,” the older skeleton’s grin is teasing as he hoists his sweater over his head. “Not gonna take me out to dinner first before you try to get me wet?” He sets the sweater beside his cloak, phalanges slipping into the hem of his waistband. “And here I thought you were a gentleman.”

“I am a gentleman.” Cross’s hand held onto Epic’s waist to keep him steady as he shook off his boots. Cross was surprised by how much his hand could hold, and wondered if both his hands were on Epic’s waist if his distal phalanx would touch. “See? I’m helpful.”

“The most helpful.” Epic concurred. With Cross’s support, he was able to shimmy out of his pants and sure enough, swim trunks obstructed his pelvis and part of his upper femurs from his view.

Not that Cross was staring or anything. They’d gone swimming before in the past. In fact, he recognized the familiar Dragonball themed swim trunks as soon as they’d peaked out from Epic’s waistband, orange and white with one of Epic’s favorite memes inscribed on the sides “IT’S OVER 9,000!”

Although his gaze was inexplicably drawn to the curve of Epic’s spine as he bent forward to remove his pants. To the curve of his pelvic wings and the way his ribs moved with his motions.

Epic stood up straight and Cross released him. He stayed within his space, though, just in case Epic slipped and fell off. His best friend scooped his pile of clothes up into his arms and into a ball, hoisted them over his head, and unceremoniously threw them with an enthusiastic “YEET” so they landed back into Cross’s enclosure with a bounce and spread apart.

With all too affectionate exasperation well used to Epic’s antics, Cross asked, “Why not just use your gravity magic and let it land?”

Epic smacked his hands together and tilted his skull up to Cross to wink as he shot him with double finger guns. “Y’know why, ‘cause it’s fun! Oh! You know what we should totally do?”

Epic’s eyelights gleamed in excitement. “I can set up a basketball hoop near the tub and you can toss me through it!”

“Why?”

“For the Kobe, bruh, the Kobe!”

Admittedly, it did sound like a fun idea, and though Cross would be more than happy to indulge Epic in his shenanigans, he was far more interested in grooming Epic as he’d done for him.

To show he’s a good potential mate

“Later,” Cross promised. “I wanna take care of you now.”

Cross would never tire of being the cause for Epic blushing. It was inexplicably gratifying, knowing that Epic’s lovely face would burn so sweet and pretty just for Cross when he wasn’t usually one so easy to fluster.

“Okie dokie.” Epic flexed his phalanges. His feet shuffled side to side in uncertainty. “Uh, are you okay with me sitting on you for this?”

“Yeah it’s fine. You’ve done it before.” Cross “loafing”, as Epic would call it, while they watched a movie or started a show. Playing a board game or eating together whenever Epic took a break from analyzing Cross’s magic.

They couldn’t cuddle before like they used to, not with Cross’s drastic change in size. So they made do with their new normal. Or at least Epic did, once he was certain Cross didn’t mind. Perhaps Cross would dislike it, if it were anyone else other than Epic.

“Alright alright alriiiight,” Epic drawled. Giggling after referencing one of his many favorite vocal stims. “But if ya ever do get uncomfy, lemme know an’ I’ll hop off.

“Sounds good.”

And with that, Epic began to scrub, flexing and bending his phalanges to catch anything caught between the grooves separating the phalanxes. Gradually working his way up to his metacarpals.

Cross imitated Epic’s earlier gestures, gently brushing all the hard to reach places whilst carefully avoiding exerting too much pressure behind his movements.

“It feels nice, right?” Cross hummed his agreement. “I could do this myself, but it just feels good when there’s someone else,” there’s a tone in Epic’s voice Cross couldn’t quite distinguish, like he’s trying to hint at or lead up to something but Cross didn’t know what.

His best friend had started scrubbing his legs, one knee bent to his chest and straight out with his leg extended. “Sure help makes it easier, but it’s not required.”

“Uh huh.” Cross gave him a once-over. Satisfied with his work but regretful that it was over so soon. It made sense, he supposed. Cross hadn’t bathed in a while unlike Epic, so of course he’d be dirtier.

Epic’s skull turned back at an angle to glance up at Cross. “I’m not useless for wanting some help cleaning up, am I?”

“What? No, of course not!” How could Epic say that? “You asking for help when you need it shows how self-aware you are. You’re not lesser or weak for reaching out.” Epic is incredible, the person he admired most. And that admiration came from years of knowing Epic and seeing for himself all the amazing things his best friend is capable of, and just how kind and good his Soul was.

“I think it shows how strong you are, that you know you can’t do everything alone and instead of wallowing in self-pity, you ask and—” Cross paused. Epic continued to watch him, waiting, expectant. “…Oh.” Now it was Cross’s turn to blush.

“There we go.”

“I’m an idiot.”

“Not at all.” Epic refuted. “You’re just a little stubborn, sometimes.”

“You put up with me anyway.”

“You’re my best friend Criss-Cross,” Epic grinned. “You’re stuck with me for life, buddy. Ride or die ‘til the end my guy. Couldn’t get me away from ya for nothin’.”

Tener, light touches as fingers made of bone glided between the downy plumage of his wing. “An’ part of my sacred duty as best bud is makin’ sure you’re alright.”

All that remained unspoken filled the air between them, their bond knowing all too well what they meant without needing it said aloud.

Let me take care of you?

Cross hesitated. His inner demons were silent, put to rest by Epic’s steadfast compassion. Still, he…he couldn’t help but feel trepidation about fixing himself, anxious of too many unknown variables of what may happen. Particularly after the disasters of attempting to split his Soul during the time he’d been fused with XChara.

“Can we wait? Just a little longer?”

Yes. Wait for me.

Epic didn’t protest. “You're not in any pain, right?”

Cross shook his head and Epic slowly exhaled with a slow nod. “Okay. We can wait, then. Whenever you’re ready, Cross.”

I’ll always be here.

Grateful beyond measure for his friend, all Cross could do to convey his thanks was bend forward to press his forehead against Epic’s. “Thank you.”

Epic gently pressed back, smiling as they gazed into each other’s eyes. “I got ya.”

Always.

All too soon, Epic pulled away. He lowered the shower head down to his height to rinse himself off before he let go and let it return to its stationary position on the ceiling.

“Now c’mon! I’ve been wanting to soak for forever now,” he exaggerated. He held onto Cross’s arm as he moved, willing his draconic legs to stand and meander over to the tub.

“Alright alright, I’m going.”

“Yuss!” Epic posed, hand on his hip and arm outstretched. “Onward, to glory!”

“I feel glorious.” Cross deadpanned as he slowly settled onto his pair of knees. Epic eagerly slid down Cross’s side like a baseball player, whooping “yaba dabba doo!” while he slided down his tail. In an impressive display of acrobatics, Epic vaulted over the tub by using the walls as a springboard and stood by the wall, waiting to make sure Cross was watching him.

“Sooo, you remember how there’s a panel Chihiro had to whack to get the bath tokens to pop out?”

“Uh huh.” Epic pointed to the spot on the wall where painted clouds were formed into an “X” shape.

“Do a Britney and hit it baby one more time!”

Cross snickered and did just that. The panel popped open, red and black rectangular tokens with golden shapes hung by string.

“And pick whichever, they all come from the same source.”

Cross randomly selected the circle token and tugged, the wooden block disappearing upwards and away while the panel slowly closed itself up. He startled when he felt warm water, almost unbearably hot, started to pour from a bamboo tube. A few moments later he relaxed, the tension in his bones melting away the more his bones absorbed the heat.

The moment the water reached Cross’s lower ribs the flow abruptly stopped, the bamboo tube sliding up and into the wall. The panel clicked shut.

Cross waited, perking up while Epic strolled over the rim before he contorted, keeping his arms gripping the tub’s rim behind him while he dipped his legs in one by one until he was hanging over next to Cross. Cross felt a pang of disappointment that Epic was next to and not pressed up against him and slid his arm around his waist and cradled his entire left pelvic wing to pull him close.

It must’ve caught Epic off guard because he squeaked, limbs jerking slightly when Cross wrapped both his arms around Epic to loosely hug him close, Epic’s legs bracketing Cross’s hips while his hands shot out to support himself and gripped Cross’s shoulders tight.

“Whoa hey!” Epic babbled, zygomas burning with violet mana as Cross intently stared at him. “Uhhh. Hi there.”

Cross tilted his skull to the side in bemusement but greeted him nonetheless. “Hello.”

Epic’s eyelights darted to the side and back to Cross’s face, his flush deepening when Cross’s chest slowly began to rev up, the first pleased, low chirp tumbling out of him. He slid his hands down Cross’s humeri and paused at the junction between his radia and ulnas.

“I could just, uhm, sit next to you, y'know? O-on your back.”

This felt unbearably intimate. Soaking in a communal bath was one thing. Wrapped up in his friend’s arms while he stared at him like the cat that got the cream was another.

“You could.” Cross replied. “But I want to hold you.”

Epic wheezed on an embarrassed note of laughter. “Okay, yeah, sure. Whatever you want bud. Can I not straddle you while you do, though?”

Cross didn’t understand, he thought this was the perfect way to hold Epic and felt perfectly comfortable as is. But if Epic wasn’t, then he’d have to change it.

Reluctantly, Cross loosened his grip. Epic wiggled, sliding his legs back off and Cross felt a pang of loneliness from the missing weight, a mournful chirrup tightening his throat and disrupting his purrs.

Then Epic nuzzled into his side. His arms around Cross’s waist while he laid his head on Cross’s sternum and his purring resumed. “There we go. Didn’t mean to sound like we couldn’t cuddle,” Epic apologized. Cross affectionately rubbed his cheekbone against the top of his skull. “That was just, uh, a-a way to cuddle that’s a bit too much for friends, ‘s’all,” he explained.

Cross didn’t get it, couldn’t quite see why Epic got as flustered as he had despite Cross appreciating how adorable the demure expression was on him. It had felt right to Cross, yet another way they could embrace and be close, but he nodded anyway, satisfied he could still cradle his dearest friend. “Okay.”

All he knew for certain as he stared, uncomprehending, was how he felt. And all he felt was peaceful contentment.

“This is nice, huh?” Epic spoke up. “Weirdly quiet, I think, but nice.”

“Yeah.” Cross sniffed the air, curious about the different scents wafting off of the mineralized water. “What’d you put in here?”

Epic beamed. “I did some research, and nabbed some stuff like yuzu, bancha, and kuma bamboo grass,” Epic’s sockets slowly drifted shut as he relaxed, his ribcage beginning to vibrate beneath the water as his own instinctual purrs tried to escape. He resisted, his deep voice slightly hoarse while he continued his explanation, “since hot springs are natural, the minerals in them come from the Earth, right? So to make your own mineralized bath you gotta use herbs to try and mimic that, and those were the most popular ones I could find.”

“Cool.”

There wasn’t much to say after that, both best friends too relaxed, enjoying their shared embrace and the warmth of the water soothing away all their aches and pains as they held each other. A moment of shared vulnerability that feels both safe and nourishing.

“This was a wonderful idea,” Cross’s tone is low. It feels wrong to speak any louder than a quiet murmur, at this time. “Thanks dude.”

Epic’s eyes were closed when he answered. “Anytime, bruh. ‘S my job ta pamper ya.”

“Likewise.”

Cross continued to observe him as he laid against him. Epic was pliant beneath him. Both sockets closed and he’s quiet, apart from blissful purrs rumbling out of him that Cross matched. The soldier is pleased and all too smug at how his best friend let Cross groom him properly earlier just as Epic had done for him. And now he let him cradle him to his chest, near his Soul where it beat peacefully within his magic and out of sight.

After all, good mates take care of one another. And Epic was always so good, so kind to him. What a wonderful mate he is—

Cross laid his chin atop Epic’s skull and let his own sockets slowly drift to a close, his Soul full and happy, as he let the darkness close in. Letting himself sink below that pool of black and let himself be swallowed completely by the feelings of safety and comfort. Trusting Epic with all his Soul to keep them both safe as Cross finally let go.

When he awoke, it was to the wrong, wrong, wrong, feeling empty arms and his best friend nowhere in sight.

Cross’s voice warbles in panic, only to jolt and then promptly relaxed when he hears comforting coos and whistles and feels something warm and soft rub his back.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Cross let out an accusatory growl with narrowed sockets.

“I know, I’m sorry for leaving,” Epic consoled, gently rubbing him dry with the towel and Cross’s shoulders fall back from his hunched posture. “I wanted to get you dried off, ‘s not good to fall asleep wet. I’d just finished your back feathers when you woke up.”

Cross sniffed with a small “hmmph” but leaned into Epic’s open palm anyway and looped an arm around his waist with a small huff, noting with dissatisfaction that Epic had changed into his sleep shirt and bottoms. “Fine. Forgiven.”

“I’m glad. Now, up we go,” Cross’s sleepy gaze glanced around. His vision gradually clearing as he surveyed his surroundings. The tub had been drained and the lights dimmed. “It’s pretty late, so let’s get you to bed bud.”

“Okay.”

With wobbly legs, Cross eventually climbed out of the tub whilst holding onto Epic. Epic tapped a button on the side when they passed through the doorway and the walls shifted, closing shut behind them.

Cross climbed aboard his bed and circled around a few times. Once satiated, he folded his legs in. His mouth quirked up in the corners when he heard Epic’s quiet gush of “yuss, the sacred loaf!” He rocked forward and back, legs kneading the mattresses a few times before he settled. He twisted around and let his chest press onto the soft plumes of his back. Now that they were clean, the feeling of the soft feathers is a gentle caress that smelled like herbs and chocolate instead of smelly, scratchy pricks that scratched his face. He gazed up at Epic who sat beside him.

His best friend patted his back, tenderly rubbing a few times before he stood. “Goodnight, bud. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Epic turned around.

Protesting whines of dismay wobbled out when Cross realized Epic was trying to leave his Nest. He reached out with his claws, hooking it around Epic’s talus to stop him.

He didn’t want to be alone.

Everything was perfect, felt so right, when Epic was beside him.

“Don’t go,” Cross pleaded.

“I’ll be around, buddy.” Epic tried to placate him as he turned back to crouch in front of Cross and gently place his hands on the claw ensnaring his talus. “Y'know I don’t really sleep. I’m just gonna go check on Chara and then—”

“Please?”

Epic stopped.

“Please, sleep beside me?”

Mates Nested together.

Epic’s confliction melted away and Cross exhaled in quiet relief, grateful that his best friend would readily do anything for him if he gave the word. “…Okay,” he gently squeezed Cross’s claw. Understanding, Cross let go. ��Lemme go grab my sleeping bag and,” Epic slowed when Cross pouted at him with dilated, imploring eyelights. “…You wanna cuddle me, don’t you?”

Low and slow, purrs revved right back up as Cross visibly brightened at Epic’s correct deduction. “Yes.”

Epic smiled, somewhat exasperated but not at all put out. “Okay. Lemme grab the blanket? I cleaned that too while you dozed.”

Cross nodded. With that affirmation, Epic’s violet eyelight flared, wisps of faint purple mana billowing out his socket and surrounding the large comforter to tug it off the floor and up onto Cross.

The soldier held his arm out and Epic easily slid into his embrace, circling Cross with his own arm and tucking himself against the other’s chest as the blanket covered both their shoulders.

Epic stroked Cross’s back while the other watched Epic dismiss the gravity magic and his eyes returned to normal “This good?”

“Perfect.”

Epic was in the Nest and in Cross’s arms, exactly where he belonged.

Safe and warm, Epic’s body and scent flooding his senses, Cross allowed his sockets to close once more.

“Goodnight, Cross.”

“Night, Epic.”

And fell asleep feeling cherished and loved cared for.

When Cross fell asleep Epic sighed. Moving his hand from Cross’s back and up to cradle his face, his thumb stroking the right cheekbone where Cross’s crimson scar remained.

He was worried about him. He knew recovery would be a long, slow battle, with Cross needing to heal from mental and physical trauma alike, but that didn’t mean Epic disliked that.

He wished he could’ve been there when Cross had disappeared, wished he could’ve protected him and stopped whatever had happened to him that turned him into a chimera.

If Epic had the chance to go back and switch places with Cross, he would’ve done it in a Soulbeat. Anything to keep his best friend safe and happy.

Cold, simmering rage boiled in his marrow, his dormant LV rising under his vengeful fury.

He wouldn't stop, wouldn't rest, until he found who’d done this to his friend and made them give Cross his body back. And if they couldn’t?

Epic was planning on letting them suffer long and slow, exactly like they’ve done to Cross, either way.

Cross sighed in his sleep, the adorable chirp and nuzzle he gave as he rubbed his nose indent with Epic’s washed away his rage and filled him with fond warmth instead. He nuzzled back, Soul melting when Cross smiled wide and happy from the gesture.

Later. Epic would deal with these thoughts later. Right now, he had more important things to do.

And that was letting Cross know how loved he was, when asleep or awake.

“I’ll take care of you, Cross.” Epic swore with all his heart and Soul. “For as long as you’ll let me.”

Until he was nothing but dust, this he swore.

#cross sans #epic sans #crepic #dude and bruh #epiccross #crepic fanfic #my writing #not my au #but I adore it #yall should absolutely check it out #and X’s writing #it’s all so good

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fumifooms · 4 months

Text

Namalin

Namari x Falin

Easy short rarepair spotlight post for prosperity~ This one I didn’t think of on my own for once, I don’t know if it’s just I forgot the decided-on ship name or what but I remember seeing really nice art and a couple posts about it that I can’t find again 💔 Namalin warrior you are out there and not forgotten ty for making me see the light

I like that Namari’s critical of Falin! I have a whole character analysis on Falin if you’re interested, but it’s generally well noticed that people around Falin idealize her a lot. Laios, Marcille and Toshiro all put her on a pedestral of ultimate goodness in the world, a saintess if nothing short of perfection. Sounds like Chilchuck felt sort of creeped out by her vibes, uncomfortable because he couldn’t read her, so unlike Namari it seems he preferred steering clear of her rather than debate opposed ideologies like he usually does. Makes sense if unlike Namari his issue is with her cryptic aura rather than the stances she does show. "… The dungeon is no place for soft hearts" my ultimate namalin scene <333 It’s fun because while this scene is there to show us a lot of things, mostly to establish Falin’s characters better as it’s the first flashback of her we get, the conflict in it is more than anything else Falin vs Namari in how they contrast and clash and approach situations differently. Namari wants security in swift effective violence and thinks Falin too soft for her own good when she prefers a pacifist approach and promotes compassion even for the "undeserving" in Namari’s eyes. Falin steps between the battle ready Namari and the ghost, fearless. Falin effortlessly gently exorcises the ghost without one step back, quickly. Falin proves someone wrong. Falin proves someone wrong.

I love thinking of Namari being surprised when she learns new aspects of Falin. I like Falin having the power to shape people’s views on her. With Falin ships the most fun part for me is usually that point where Falin/the relationship becomes a clean slate: the person realizes they haven’t been seeing all of her, realizes there’s more of her they hadn’t noticed or that she hadn’t shown, that there’s change, a shift in the views on each other and the dynamic a bit.

Namari often feels like an external view looking in to me… I need to make a proper analysis on her but like. I made a lamari post once (analytic more than personally invested rip sorry) and I go with the same Namari take here, I think she’s someone who tends to have an outsider view on people and relationships if that makes sense, she’s a coworker before anything else and she’s content staying at a distance, she’s not objective per se but she tries to keep feelings out of her choices and how she sees people (her lil arc on not staying to save Falin despite the existing camaderie but in the end asking to work for the Flokes more because she wants to stay with them). She’s serious no nonsense on the job but friendly off the job and likes having casual friends, but she’s not… She doesn’t really feel connected to the group. She’s so focused on doing her job, even if she does get impulsive and passionate and too assertive for her bosses’ tastes, so focused on working her reputation and life from the ground up that that professionalism and attitude limits her social life. It doesn’t help that her reputation makes her widely judged, so she probably enters social spaces on the derensive. The closest person she was to pre-canon as far as we knew was Chilchuck and even they have a very "coworker I get along with" dynamic more than friends, with a similar sense of boundaries, humor and world view. Also like canon says a few time, the party didn’t really try to get to know each other well pre-canon, didn’t hang out after work often no one knew where Marcille was from and no one thought that was weird (also how no one had the instinct to ask about Senshi’s past) etc, the notable exception is we’re shown Namari and Chilchuck hitting taverns together and having a grand time. Everyone’s fine with things as they are, they get along decent even if not everyone considers each other friends exactly. Where I’m getting at is that to me, it feels like she tries keeping emotional distance. Emotional distance from people in general being something which in my interpretation of Falin is also present, which would make it a theme and common thread interesting to explore imo. But yes like, Namari looking at Falin, and how everyone treats her, and being more skeptical, seeing her for what she is a little more, maybe even uncharitable. "Why is everyone treating her like she’s all that? She’s gentle sure but seems like a doormat to me" and then one day she comes running up with her mace ready to cave in someone’s face to protect Laios. So yeah… Keeping her distance but one day Falin offering her some gentleness that feels very too personal for someone who’s not used to being genuine and simply showing that they care… Them talking a bit which leaves her stumped and mindblown in a quiet way when Falin defies her expectations. Namari growing on Falin when she stays and decides to open herself up more, or when Falin ends up reading her really well like she’s shown to do with her parents and Marcille’s worries. She’s very attuned to worrying and why and when different people do it especially when it comes to when they worry for others, perhaps because she does a lot of that too, so I think she’d nail down how Namari does care for the rest of the party and it’d make Namari feel seen both in a warm validating way and in a scared naked way.

We see in the tentacles chapter that she’s someone’s who’s very protective and looks out for her peers in a tough love way. She’s overbearing but it’s because she wants everyone to have the best chances. I like that she’s very confrontational and somewhat pushy and rude, but it’s tough love, it’s protective care: asserting herself to better protect and defend. The opposite of Falin’s type of care, quiet and self-sacrificial devotion. They’re barbarian x healer but they’re also bodyguard x bodyguard in their attitude and role. … What I want for them is slow burn slice of life of being coworkers and slowly getting to know each other better, pretty fluffy, but god, put this way they’d have the potential to be such a hot layered mess of insanely mutually devoted codependence… Falin taking a hit for Namari and Namari being scarred by it forever, lots of arguments about it, my god.

I like that she’s the fighter to Falin’s healer. I looove thinking of scenes of Falin healing Namari, necessitating touch and like, a moment of slowing down and sitting together in silence, too intimate, the perfect opportunity to connect that neither truly want to take until one day they do. I love how onesided I imagine the relationship would be at first. Again, as per my interpretation of Falin, I think Namari would have all these little observations and opinions on Falin meanwhile Falin really doesn’t think of Namari much at first. So Namari thinks a lot about Falin and thinks she’s got her pinned down but hasn’t (not that she’s fully wrong, she’d have credit and confront Falin on some of her flaws like the doormat thing), while Falin is very passive about Namari and doesn’t think deeply about her or anything but she read Namari’s insecurities and logic well. Not unlike how Laios was the one who seemed to understand Namari’s way of care the best in the party in the tentacles episode, and how he was very understanding of her choice and reasons. In Falin’s case it’s more like, the objectivity of passivity… She cares about Namari less than Laios who generally seeks to form bonds, so her lack of investment allows her a neutral perspective. In that way another parallel with Namari that I’m drawing, except Namari lets feelings from her opinions seeps in more… Onesided beef my beloved. I’m going insane save me this post was a mistake. I think Falin takes the crumbs of friendship and love where she can without expecting or asking for anything more than what’s offered, and I think her relationship with Namari (or anyone really) would start out the way it did with Marcille: the other takes the initiative and they end up spending time together, Falin is friendly but unattached until the bond gets gradually and wordlessly strenghtened through regularly spending moments together. So! I think Namari would need to take a lot of the first steps, which since again she’s confrontational & argumentative and doesn’t hold herself back on that front that could spark a lot of conversations I think. Ooor since Falin cares about Namari less than Laios and Marcille she allows herself to be bolder herself lol. Or also circumstances force them to spend time together like dungeon party getting separated shenanigans.

I think their personalities match cutely, I think falin would try to protect namari like she does others but also Namari simply doesn’t need protection, just support. And I think they’re complementary in that way that Namari’s friendly but also won’t sugarcoat things, and I think if she takes an interest in Falin it could go from there and she could develop some understanding of her and idk like an intrigued crush….

Namari wants stability & security & to, like, not be judged and rejected and exiled lol, to find her nest her pack the place where she feels good and wanted in. I think having a fitting partner would help in that (similarly to how the found family with the Flokes seemed to. Oh another parallel, Falin’s top priority is protecting Laios her brother and what Namari are a family figure) and I think Falin would fulfill that cozy protection and that warm ‘being seen and not judged’ feeling. But also Namari would run up to her and yell about her trying to sacrifice herself ever.

Another fun thread to explore: post-canon guilt for not having gone to save her. Sure, they weren’t close, but they had some nice memories, didn’t they? Namari cares, and it stings despite herself when it feels like people think she doesn’t. Oh it wasn’t a lost cause after all, oh it’d have worked out, oh I could have stayed loyal and it wouldn’t have compromised myself in the end. Wanting to apologize to Falin, or just ahnging out with her and sharing a moment after she wakes up. And tangent but that’s interesting to think about… Narratively, I think the purpose of Namari and Toshiro in the story, beyond strenghtening the theme of "seek to understand what is different from you and promote unity despite them" and fleshing the cast and worldbuilding, is Toshiro’s purpose was being a foil & tool in Laios’ arc (trouble connecting with people) while Namari’s was being and a foil & tool in Marcille’s arc (standing up for ideals without being out of touch with harsh realities and needs). They are the conflict that push our protagonists to grow— and they explore different ways of dealing with a situation or topic, different ways of growing into themselves on that end: Laios needing to listen to others more and Toshiro needing to focus on voicing himself more to be able to connect, Marcille needing to learn ideals sometimes cost too much and Namari needing to internalize that ideals are sometimes worth risks (not only to be able to find a reasonable but fulfilling life balance, but also to get in touch with their compassion: Namari restricts her own too much and Marcille is too harsh on people she deems to be breaking values, like Namari not risking her life and career for a friend with no promise of success, or even like how Namari is harsh on Falin’s way of doing things : too gentle, too soft, too idealistic) (similarly to Chilchuck’s arc with Marcille too, and he also plays a hand in advancing that arc in the Namari chapters). We are getting far from namalin sorry ummm preview for future analyses like Toshiro’s contrasting approach to grief and accepting loss.

More post-canon namalin! Thinking about a timeline where… Namari is fond of Falin finding herself and going off to do her thing. "Finally!" she thinks. If she’s still for hire, maybe Falin would want her to come along, either as guide or bodyguard <3, she knows Namari has a lot of good avice on a lot of things to give, plus they’ve worked together before. She hires Namari and they travel for a bit. Travel would do Namari good too I think, even if her end goal is to settle and I think Falin’s would be too eventually. Seeing sights that light her wonder for the world and going places where people don’t know her story, don’t recognize her face or her name. Them, feeling free. Finding a companionship that feels uplifting instead of stifling or charged. Namari having been too in her head about reputation and social games and money that they hit the roads and spend time in nature and it’s like, woah. I’ve been living in a small world with made up rules.

Ahh yes romance, Namari and Falin kissing after 3 years of not really knowing each other despite seeing each other every day then 2 months of wanting to spend more and more time together until they’re an inseparable duo! Workwives. I want them to stand next to each other during campire time and Namari cracks little jokes and Namari laughs. I want Namari to gift Falin a bug caught in amber and for it to be their wedding/promised to each other thing.

TLDR

Rowdy but levelheaded barbarian x gentle healer that will also cave your face in with a mace I like it…… They’re an interesting duo of mixed stuff. Protection being your purpose and what you’re worth for, literally being a meat shield (Laios, Tansu), finding your individuality recognized and validated through a growing bond with the other. Sticking around as a love language. Also bug immortalized in amber and it being beautiful.

Nevermind this wasn’t short. Um! Anyways.