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"you're, like, the worst kisser i've ever met," Killer tells him one day, tone sharp with a teasing edge.
"Thanks." Cross can already feel his face heating up at the declaration, but he refuses to rise the mocking further, instead taking another spoonful of his cereal. The fervor that he chews with probably betrays his anger, but Killer doesn't comment, just stares with his crooked grin.
It's not like Killer knows he's the first hook-up Cross has ever had - but is hook-up even the right word for it? Are they… dating? He's not sure, and he's sure as hell not going to ask Killer about it.
The fact of the matter is, though, that his bed is shared with Killer more often than it's empty. And he likes that - prefers it to waking up in a cold sweat, after staring down XGaster or a soulless Ink in his dreams - but he doesn't know what the are.
"...i meant that to be a joke," Killer says, his grin falling slightly into a grimace. In front of him, the edges of his soul wobble slightly, a telltale sign he's worried.
"'S not funny," Cross grunts around his mouthful of cereal. "Just like the rest of your jokes."
"that's a lie, you've laughed at my other jokes," Killer accuses, standing up from the table. Cross tenses, prepared for a fight, but all the other does is pat him on the shoulder with a heavy hand. "meet me in your room when you're done, yeah?"
"...Fine, yeah."
The rest of his breakfast feels like rocks in his false throat, but Cross forces it down anyway. He's not sure where Horror is, but there's no use trying to hide an unfinished meal from him. Every bite feels scratchy as he swallows.
But even when he gets to his bedroom, stomach leaden with anxiety, Killer is simply lounging on his bed, sprawled across the entirety of it. The room is dark, but his soul paints it with a dim red light.
"what's up, criss-cross?" he asks, giving Cross a joking little wave. "close the door, come sit with me."
"Is there room for me?" Cross replies wryly as he shuts the door. Killer, at the very least, sits up, though his long legs are still sprawled across the blankets.
"so," Killer says when Cross sits stiffly beside him. "am i your first boyfriend?"
Cross sputters, trying to stammer out an answer. "I - what?"
"am i?"
"Why?" Cross presses, before registering the final word of Killer's first question. "Wait, we're… dating?"
Killer shrugs. "i thought so. why, are we not?"
"N - no!" Cross says, too quickly, but before Killer's face can fall further, he adds, "I wasn't sure, I didn't want to ask…"
"aw, criss-cross." Killer's grin turns back up, and he gathers Cross in his arms in a slightly awkward hug. "just an eff-why-eye, though, it's courteous to tell your first boyfriend that they're your first -"
"Wow, I can't believe we've been dating for thirty seconds, and I'm already breaking up with you," Cross interrupts, deadpan. His voice is slightly muffled by Killer's chest, leaning uncomfortably in his hold. But Killer's laugh resonates through his ribcage, and Cross can hear and feel it perfectly, so he supposes it's worth it.
He relaxes a bit into Killer's grip, the hug less awkward without his own tenseness. Just beside his head, Killer's soul relaxes into a loose oval, rather than the taught, but wobbly circle it had been in all morning. He can't resist grabbing onto the back of Killer's hoodie, and hugging back, either.
"honestly," Killer says, leaning back against the pillows, taking Cross with him. "i was gonna make a shitty joke about how i could help you practice kissing, but i dunno if you're gonna wanna do that now, since you probably went through the proverbial emotional wringer after i left you downstairs."
"Did you ask Nightmare to tell you what I was feeling or something?" Cross grumbles, nearly silenced by Killer's chest. He raises his head, and says, louder, "Am I really that shitty at kissing?"
Killer's hand traces circles on his back, more teasing than soothing. "i mean, knowing i'm your first boyfriend or whatever, you're not that bad."
"Are you just saying that to make me feel better?"
"stop askin' questions," Killer replies, instead of answering. Cross gets that feeling that if he had them, he'd be rolling his eyelights. "c'mere."
Considering that Cross is already leaning on his chest, he can't get much closer, but Killer cradles his chin in one hand, leveling it to his own. His grin is sharp edged, but his face is fond.
Cross is ashamed to say how much it gets to him, but thankfully, Killer doesn't stare long. Instead, he leans down the rest of the distance to press his teeth to Cross's.
It's a little awkward, in Cross's not-exactly-expert opinion - their nasal ridges clink together, and he's too surprised to shut his eyes. He's sure that he's flushed bright enough that Killer can see the purple tint of his magic through his shut eye sockets. But thankfully, he doesn't comment, just smirks a bit as he pulls away again, and says, "alright, time for pointers, crossy."
"What was wrong with that?" Cross asks, perhaps a little grumpily, as if he hadn't listed the issues out in his own head moments ago.
Killer taps his nasal ridge with his pointer finger teasingly. "well, first of all - close your eyes, stars. don't keep your eyes open while you're kissing someone."
"Well - maybe I wanted to look at you!" Cross snaps. As soon as his own words make their way through his mind, though, he yanks his hood over his head and ducks into Killer's chest once more.
He looks up when Killer doesn't respond. Incredibly, Killer's face is a bright, blotchy red as he stares down at Cross, void of his usual grin in favor of complete and utter surprise.
Killer's soul is still beside his face, and its movement is the only reason that Cross drags his attention from its owner's wide-eyed stare. Instead of a scarily still bullseye, it's a slightly mishappen inverted heart, as a normal soul should be. It beats quickly with Killer's normally-unseeable soulbeat, as if it had flown out of his chest.
"...You okay?" Cross asks quietly, though he doesn't resist the urge to lay his hand flat beside Killer's sternum, just beneath his racing soul. When the other doesn't answer, he adds, "I've never seen your soul do this before."
"doesn't, uh, happen much," Killer explains, voice slightly stilted from discomfort. "usually if i'm… really happy, i guess." Slightly softer, before Cross can say anything, he mumbles, "and uh. you make me really happy. yeah."
"I'm… glad," Cross replies, just as soft. His thumb strokes over Killer's sternum, and the soul above it wobbles further. "I like it."
"yeah?" He sounds slightly unsure, as if he believed Cross wouldn't like it.
"Yeah. I like your soul a lot," Cross murmurs. "'S yours."
And then he leans forward slightly, and presses the softest kiss to the rim of it.
The sound Killer makes could perhaps be called a keen, but would be better categorized as a whine. His breathing picks up as Cross pulls away, hands reaching to cradle the other's face.
"Sorry, I should have -"
"holy fuck," Killer interjects in a wheeze. "i... holy fuck."
"Are you okay?" Cross goes to move off of him, but Killer yanks him back with shaking arms.
Killer's bones are rattling now, and though his soul is steady in its shape, its beat seems faster. Cross brings his hands back to Killer's skull, searching for any hint of an answer to explain his reaction.
"you got so much love," Killer laughs suddenly, "didn't really expect that - all that intent, straight into my soul, stars, cross."
"I'm sorry," Cross repeats, but Killer just shakes his head and smashes their faces together. This kiss is just as clumsy as the last, cheeks scraping and nasal ridges clinking, but the passion is tangible.
"don't be," Killer breathes as he pulls away slightly. "haven't felt like anyone wanted me around that much in years..."
Ever eager to please, Cross simply kisses him again.