One-shots [Reqs: 5]

we're something more than friends and we aren't shy about it

CREPIC!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! FEATURING BONUS ART AT THE END BECAUSE I'M TOO LAZY TO UPDATE THE ART BOOK!!!! SPOILERS, IT'S HUMAN FEM!KILLER, AND IT'S COMPLETELY UNRELATED TO THE STORY

[warnings for this chapter: kissing, one (1) slightly suggestive moment]

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Killer grumbled, scowling as Cross's voicemail answered yet again. He sourly hung up, hitting end call a little more harshly than necessary and clapping his phone shut. He'd been trying to reach Cross for hours, per boss's orders, but the fucker wouldn't pick up and neither would his dumb friend. Everytime Cross went over to Epic's, he'd just go radio silent until he was ready to come back.

It was annoying. Killer crammed his phone in his inventory, huffily snapping his fingers. Space warped around him, light bending to swallow him and depositing him right outside Epic's front door. Even through the thick walls and door, he could hear the TV playing some kind of anime, rapid voices yelling and shrill ones screaming. Of course, it was just his luck that Cross couldn't hear his ringing phone over the deafening tv.

Killer stumbled the rest of the way out of the shortcut, crouching to lift the welcome mat. Epic was shit at hiding his extra house key, regardless of how many times Cross had (probably) gotten onto him for it.

Key in hand, Killer grumpily unlocked the front door and tossed the key back under the mat, letting it flop back into place. The TV was even louder when he opened the door, pulling a grimace from him. Why the fuck did they have it so god damn loud???

Killer slammed the door shut, glaring at the back of Cross and Epic's heads. Bastards hadn't even turned around, either ignoring him or not realizing he was there. Either way, it was just as annoying regardless of the reason, and he stomped up to the couch, intent on tearing Cross a new one.

He went to slap his hands on the backrest of the couch, aiming on leaning over to snarl something, but the words died on his tongue as Cross and Epic's proximity finally clicked. Killer sputtered, leaning back in sheer surprise, entirely taken aback.

In the bright lights of the TV, he could clearly see Cross and Epic were pressed together tightly, making out like there was no tomorrow. He wasn't sure who was in whose lap, but they were all over each other, like teenagers in a long distance relationship who'd finally found time to themselves.

In his stupor, Killer just stood there, gobsmacked, watching as Cross's hand slipped under the hem of Epic's turtleneck. Epic broke the kiss, leaning away enough to breathe, but even then, his breath mingled with Cross's. Their foreheads stayed pressed together, hazy eyelights focused on each other, and Epic grinned, saying something that had Cross snickering, the two of them huffing laughter into each other's mouths.

Killer was laser focused on the outline of Cross's hand through Epic's shirt, his eyesockets wide and absolutely bamboozled as he followed that sneaking lump. It slid up, seamlessly, as if this had happened millions of times before, as if Cross knew exactly what he was doing, and it was that realization that got Killer moving again.

He stumbled away from them, sputtering, "w-HUH?!"

Cross jerked, breaking away from Epic with a startled noise, his eyelights quickly finding Killer's dumbfounded expression, Epic jolting up as well to peer over the back of the couch. They both stared at Killer like he was the weird one, like he was the odd man out, and shit, maybe he was.

Epic twisted away, his head ducking for a moment, and the TV muted, the sudden absence of sound making Killer's skull ring for a moment.

"Killer! What are you doing here," Cross asked, like he didn't have his hand up Epic's shirt, and Killer opened his mouth, feeling like a fish out of water. Epic snorted, wiping his teeth and flashed Killer a crooked grin, raising a brow.