Chapter Text
Sprawled like a cat in a bed that was not his, Ink's hands sheepishly found Nightmare. The familiar curve of his back welcomed him in, the latter embracing him contently even as he slept.
The morning was quiet, a different shade from yesterday's thrills and well-deserved intimacy. Alone in the castle for the first time since what felt like forever, they took it upon themselves to have a fun night: one of candlelight, storytelling, and fond touches under linen sheets.
No outside sound made it through their bedroom's heavy doors, neither now nor then. Silence itself seemed muffled, as if the world knew it had no say to how Ink would find comfort in Nightmare's endless bed or the soft rhythm of his breathing.
No sooner had he closed his eyes than a soft laugh echoed through the decorated room. "Be grateful my negativity cannot harm you." Nightmare murmured, sinking into Ink's rib cage.
Ink giggled in response, ticklish under Nightmare's touch. "And you be grateful I didn't kill you in your sleep." He leaned in, teasing hands over Nightmare's chest, only to pull away with another giddy laugh. "That might be out of character for me though, right?" His eyes shifted, momentarily losing their pink shade and, in turn, yellowing in the shape of a question mark. His mind wandered, as it often did—thoughts of unimportant nothings and soft wonders.
Nightmare chuckled.
"As if your 'character' were that simple to define." He pushed himself up to sit upright, untangling from the mess of arms and legs made between them and settling comfortably against his pillows with a crooked smile. "What would they say, I ponder... The Protector of AUs, oh, so casually sleeping with its enemy, laying in its bed, making a truce behind his friends' backs." His usual theatrics took place in no time, truly awake as he were now. "Leaving himself bare and vulnerable like so... Not a care in the world. I could take advantage of you so easily."
"Hush, you." Ink rolled his eyes, hoisting himself up as well before resting a finger against Nightmare's mouth, devoid of any significant bite in his actions. "Or did you forget our adorable little date already? Which you've planned all on your own, mind you." He smiled, a faint pastel rainbow painted in his face after mentioning yesterday's affairs. "You could try to kill me but... If anything, I'd be the one to have your head at the end of it. Admit it: You've grown soft, Nighty." Ink teased. "Soft all for me."
"I'll give you soft—" Nightmare's tentacles moved towards Ink's waist, grabbing him with vile determination just as a knock on the door threw his plans of a ticklish revenge out the window. Ink's eyes darted towards the wooden piece, caught like deer in headlights, then towards Nightmare. He soon had to cover his mouth, to muffle the laugh that threatened to escape at the sight of his company pouting too much like a child told to go to bed the moment they were interrupted.
"Boss?" Cross' voice announced from the outside. It sounded unsure, albeit holding that usual meticulous brave-boy tone of his. He waited for an answer, from outside their bedroom.
Nightmare sighed. In part, out of relief. Had it been any of his other subordinates, they would've simply barged into the room or committed the inexplicable action of knocking and entering, rather than politely waiting outside. Something Nightmare was sure he'd told them was idiotic countless times, yet to no avail.
"What?" Nightmare started, in a somewhat foul mood. He did not expect them to be back so soon.
He turned to get up, the bed creaking as he moved out of its comfort and into his slippers. Then, sensing Ink's questioning eyes on him, he swiftly raised a finger to his mouth: a sign to stay put.
"We've arrived from our mission." Cross must have heard Nightmare approach the door, given his attempt to clear his throat soon after. Nightmare simply rested a hand over the doorknob, not yet turning it. "Would you like me to debrief you on what happened?" Cross asked, all too mechanically.
This was clearly a routine for them, although maybe not usually done with a door in between.
"That won't be necessary." Nightmare answered, to which Cross made a sound of acknowledgement. He did not, however, move from his spot, lingering for some yet uncovered reason, which made Nightmare all the more sour. "Is there something else that needs my attention?" He asked, albeit sounding more like a warning: to spit it out or leave.
"...Would you like to eat with us? We brought some stuff from Grillby's." Ah. Simple affairs.
"I shall not." Nightmare turned around, eye closed in certainty. "Rest and eat in the dining room with the others. You've done enough for now." Assuming the conversation over, he walked over to his lover, ready to enjoy the rest of the morning with him, only to find two wallowing hungry eyes staring right back at him. Nightmare chuckled, more out of habit than anything, before quickly covering it with a cough. "On second thought, bring me something to the door. Leave it outside and I'll fetch it later. Do not disturb me afterwards. I want to be alone for today. Make sure the others know this too."
"Yes, boss." Cross obeyed, promptly leaving the premises to follow his orders. His shoes echoed through the relatively well-furnished halls, soon announcing his descend through the flight of stairs that separated most bedrooms from the common areas—as he waited for the sound to grow distant, Ink reminisced on all the pieces of decor he'd been impressed to see when visiting the place for the first time.
He giggled, drawing his partner's attention.
"Oh?" Nightmare started, a skewed smile growing again in his face as he walked back to bed. "Mind sharing the source of your amusement?" He posed.
"Hmm... Should I? Don't think it'll be that funny to you." Ink teased, opening his arms just as Nightmare crawled close enough to call it a form of cuddling—although he still refuses to acknowledge his tendency to do so. "You might even get offended by it."
"Speak, my love. You've got me curious now."
"Alright, alright." Ink smiled, looking fondly at Nightmare's bright cyan eye—a colour he found himself painting with far more often than ever in these past few months. "Remember the first time I convinced you to let me into your base?" He started, finding a place for his hands in Nightmare's neck just as the latter shifted a little more, to just the right spot that would allow the both of them extra closeness and comfort.
"How couldn't I? You were ridiculously overwhelmed inside the castle." Nightmare remarked. Truth be told, they were both very different back then, but Nightmare can't really say he doesn't miss the sight of his lover squirming, confused and struggling to remember which hall led where, even if he found pleasures in different circumstances now.
"Pft. Yeah, well, not my fault, is it?" Ink blushed, embarrassed at the memory. "Plus, I know the whole layout by heart now! It's still a massive place though... How do you even—" He began on a tangent, to which Nightmare replied with an amused look. "Ah. Right." He let out a laugh again. "I was just thinking how weird it was to see all the art and stuff you had hanging on the walls."
"Weird? Were they not to your taste?" He furrows, looking into Ink's eyes for any sign of truth in his worries.
"No, it's not that." Ink smiled, resting his forehead against Nightmare's before continuing. Nightmare pressed his only eye shut at the feeling, letting himself relax against Ink. "I just didn't take you for someone who liked art. Back then, you were all sorts of mysteries to me." Ink laughed again, all the more embarrassed at his own confessions. "Sure, I knew part of your backstory, but you didn't really seem like much of an... you didn't seem to enjoy anything other than destruction or negativity? Not like I cared enough to learn about you back then anyway."
"Well," Nightmare began, the intention behind his interruption lost in its own action. "I must confess that you did have a part in my growing interest for art, but I also did always enjoy paintings." He posed, leaning away to think better on the subject, leaving Ink to mourn the cold breeze that replaced his embrace. "To some degree. I mostly enjoyed the classical artworks. Not that I hold anything against modern art, but it doesn't quite... grab me the same way most older works did."
"Who knew you were such an art connoisseur?" Ink joked, kissing Nightmare's frown away before looking over his shoulder, towards one of the biggest masterpieces hung on the bedroom walls. "I wonder what you'd think of my sketches." He half-murmured, lost in thought. Then, only after coming in contact with Nightmare's wide-eyed stare did Ink realise his mistake. "Oh, I'm not really—"
"Offering, yes. I figured as much." Nightmare rolled his eye with no real bite to it, a little smile lured into his face as he tried to piece together the mystery that Ink always showed himself to be. "You can keep your notebooks a private affair, paramour. I do not care." He teased. "It did, however, come as a surprise to me that you thought of showing them to me for even a moment. You tend to be... very secretive about them. Next you'll say I'm allowed in the doodle-sphere or something preposterous like that."
"I'd n—" A knock. Then, as if unsure of what to do, two tentative steps back from the door, followed by a somewhat more hurried scattering away.
"Must be the food." Nightmare mused, slowly getting up and away from Ink. "Stay put, I will get it for us."
"Pft, alright." He replied, shifting on the bed with a coy smile on his face. "I could get used to this."
"Oh, I'm sure you could." The other teased, turning the doorknob and snatching the food from the floor before closing the door behind him and smiling. "Shall we have breakfast then?"