Summary: Overprotective brother.
Waitstaff dutifully puttered around the restaurant floor while people participated in light chatter with their respective table-mates. Cross had half a mind to hail one to take away his table's dirty dishes but instead found himself once more admiring his companion for the afternoon: Dream.
The stunning skeleton sat across from him, bearing a warm smile that never failed to melt the warrior's heart. All the while, garbed in his traditional date clothes. I.e., a semi-casual outfit; a light blue polo shirt, long grey pants, and dress shoes all expertly tied together by the pale yellow bandana hanging loosely around his neck. A stark contrast to Cross' own bushy fur-collared, white leather coat, dark-toned jeans, and black and white accented combat boots.
The taller smiled softly, albeit nervous.
"Dream, this date has been lovely..." He started, then felt a light warning squeeze on his throat's vertebrae. Thus, reminding him of their date's other... attendee, so to speak. "But can you get Nightmare to remove his tendril from my throat? It- it's starting to get uncomfortable to b-breathe."
Yellow eyelights cast their gaze onto the aforementioned monster, settling on what seemed to be the spot right over his shoulder.
A deep voice proceeded to rumble, no doubt from the booth to his back, "I'm not going anywhere until I know Romeo here isn't going to mess this up."
An exasperated frown marred Dream's face before he sighed and demanded, "Brother, stop! You can't keep doing this to everyone I date."
One could practically hear the annoyance in the darker, more violence-prone twin's voice as he hissed, "Why not? If Ink was smart enough to get the message, then this sniveling fluff ball will leave eventually."
"Nightmare." The frown on Cross' lover deepened, and his eye sockets narrowed into a glower.
"Ugh-" Nightmare groaned at the look, soon conceding, "Fine. But don't come crying to me when you inevitably get your heart broken."
"I won't- Cross and I have been dating for over seven years. You should know by now that we are very serious and committed to each other." Dream pointedly said.
"Whatever. Because of this unholy hassle, you're paying my bill."
A, for once, ungloved hand directed a phalange toward the exit. "Just leave, brother. I'll handle it. Again."
The slimy, dark tendril holding Cross' neck hostage slipped away, taking with it the pressure threatening to suffocate him should he make one wrong move.
"...I'm starting to think he only does this to get free lunch," Cross grumbled, turning in his seat. His eyelights fixed on Nightmare's back as he retreated out the restaurant's clear glass door, exit signaled by a chime. Something far too soft for someone so needlessly intimidating.
At least me and Dream can finish our date in peace now, he thought.
Cross returned to his previous position and opened his mouth, planning to continue a prior conversation with his date-
"Oh! Hey, Dream! Fancy seeing you here! How are you?" A loud, familiarly annoying voice interrupted.
Mismatched eyelights glanced to the side to see a beige-clad individual anyone would fear to have intruding upon their day. Meanwhile, Dream jumped slightly, expression morphing to shock as he exclaimed, "Ink?!"
The artist gave a cheery nod and waved.
"Ugh!" Cross whined, banging his skull against the table's polished, wooden surface, rattling the dish on top.
And there goes the peace...