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Fangs

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Cross stood in front of his mirror, melting ice dripping from his hand as he stuck his tongue out stupidly, trying to find where in the multiverse he had bitten it.

 

Who decided fangs were a good idea?

 

His mouth was throbbing, and he ended up just shoving the entire ice cube in his mouth. In the process, though, he ended up cutting his tongue on the fang. Blood flooded his mouth, and he spat the ice cube out suddenly.

 

Fuck.

 

And to make matters worse, he groaned internally, the low whistle of a skeleton walking into the room sounded out. A teasing voice rung through the bathroom, the sound of his datemate approaching.

 

“Gotta hand it to you, Criss-cross,” Killer sung, “those fangs sure are cute. Well, except in situations like these.”

 

It snickered, and Cross turned to give it a glare, finding the bloody ice cube on the floor and shoving it in the sink quickly.

 

“Thanks,” he joked back, “but I’m bleeding, mind lending a hand?”

 

Killer snorted, walking over with what had to be an eyeroll, or what it could manage of it. It reached out to find his mouth, pulling it open to find his bleeding tongue.

 

“Grab a wash cloth,” it instructed. “Cold water will fix this. And keep your fangs away from your tongue.”

 

Cross nodded, turning to grab a wash cloth from under the sink. While he was doing that, the skeleton ended up wrapping itself around his midsection, hugging him from behind. It was his turn to roll his eyelights as he got the wash cloth wet with water.

 

“Fou know,” he mumbled out through the fabric in his mouth, pressing it to his tongue carefully. “Fou could’fe just afked for cuddles.”

 

Cross saw it smirk from behind in the mirror, and a purr sounded from its chest, vibrating against his torso.

 

“Yeah, but that wouldn’t have been as fun!”

 

Cross grinned, the blood in his mouth clearing up as he turned back to their shared bedroom.

 

“In that case, I suppose you don’t want to cuddle on the bed with me?”