Chapter Text
“Boss,” A whisper. “Boss. Boss!” A whisper-shout. Something jabbing him in the ribs. Can't he just exist in his room for more than his allotted 8 hours of sleep? “Boss!” An actual shout.
Apparently not.
Nightmare rolls over and glares at him, annoyed. “Killeeer!” He simulates joyfulness, “What the hell are you doing in here?” He loses his sweetness.
“Okay, so you know how, like, three months ago we celebrated New Years?” Celebrated? Is that slang for ‘‘torturing Nightmare in the morning with confetti’’?
He sighs, muttering “Yes,” to answer Killer’s question.
“Great yeah, so tomorrow’s April the first, AKA April fools.”
“So?” Nightmare asks exasperatedly.
“It's a holiday where you, make a fool of someone, so to say.” His Boss blinks, then quirks a brow. “Or tell them something that’s not actually true. Or, or, play pranks on them.” A mischievous tone and grin.
Nightmare huffs, “You do plenty of that already.”
Killer groans, theatrically throwing back his skull. “Ugh, you’re not getting it! Sure, I do that aaaaaall the time, but the others will also do it tomorrow!”
Seriously?! He’s not dealing with this. “I’m not dealing with this. I’ll be in the Anti-Void.”
“What?! I was hoping you would help me!”
“Killer, while I appreciate you warning me about yet another Stars forsooken holiday, I don’t have the time nor patience to deal with your petty affairs.” With that settled, he rolls back over and drapes an arm over his socket.
After a moment; “Leave, Killer.”
Said skeleton mopes out of the room, acting all sad and whatnot.
Nightmare —finally leaving the comfort of his bed— teleports out of his room, slorping up from the kitchen’s floor. He grabs a cup and full coffee pot, intending to empty its contents into the smaller container. But. Hm. He sets the cup down and lifts the coffee pot, drinking from it.
Out of the corner of his eye he sees Horror.
On the living room’s chandelier.
Oh Constellations. ‘‘April Fools’’ is a real holiday, isn’t it?
Nightmare drags a hand down his good eye, “Horror.” He says exasperatedly, already tired of this ‘‘holiday’’. And it doesn't even occur today! “What are you doing up there?”
The called out skeleton jolts, nearly falling off the chandelier, and grabs one of its arms. “Boss! Uh, I didn't see ya there!”
“That much is obvious.” He mutters quietly.
Horror adjusts, but still clings to Nightmare’s chandelier like a lifeline. “I was, um… fixing the candles.” Horror nods and mutters “yeah, totally!” To himself. As if Nightmare can’t sense his guilt of lying, almost seeing it, engulfing his Soul with its dark green claws, a green so dark it's almost black. He also notices a thin, clear rope tied around various parts of the chandelier; fishing-wire. Then, some sort of webbed circle beneath the chandelier of the same material.
A hoist net trap, he dully realizes.
He looks to the walls… Ah, there it is; the cherry on top (an odd, food related saying he learned from Dust). Several cardboard tubes —likely from paper towel rolls— attached to boxes are placed on the walls periodically, some mechanical bits at the back of them.
Cannons, he discerns once again.
A spring-loaded net trap, cannons presumably loaded with glitter… Thank the Constellations he’s not going to be here for this. He’s probably not gonna be here for a week, considering this is only one trap. Stars know the others will set up more.
Nightmare shakes his head, sighing “If you can clean it up in a week, then go ahead.”
The nervous look on Horror's face disappears, melting into relief. “Heh, will do Boss.” And with a mock, two-finger salute, he continues wrapping fishing-wire around the chandelier's arms.