One-shots [Reqs: 5]

It's A Bumpy Road

killer simping for cross until it's mutual simping, for 7000 words.

i appreciate comments :)

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Killer tapped at his phone screen, his expression giving no insight to his thoughts. His phone gave a sad tune as the little bird hit the floor. He pressed restart, though his eyes were elsewhere as the game started again.

Cross was sitting nearby, his eyes narrowed with concentration. He was drawing, something Killer used to tease him about. (He stopped though after Cross slapped him with an intricate drawing of Killer. It was a stupidly accurate rendition of the previous day, when Killer had sat on one of Cross's chocolate bars.)

Killer stared at him, his phone chiming again as he lost yet another game. Cross's left eye twitched, annoyance gracing his features. He still looked unfairly attractive, Killer mused to himself.

He pressed restart, watching the small changes in Cross's appearance as the game over sound replayed. His mouth twitched, a handsome scowl spreading across his face. Those slender fingers tightened around the pen in his hand, broad shoulders squaring with irritation. Cross's eyes sharpened, and Killer wanted to combust.

He bit his tongue before he could say anything about Cross cutting him with those eyelights. Killer risked another game. Cross pinned him with an aggravated glower, a low growl in the guard's chest. Killer's fingers twitched as Cross grumbled at him. "You're doing that on purpose, you have to be. No one is that bad at that game."

Killer snickered, outwardly swaggering. "And if I am?" Cross's glare amped up, leaving Killer to hold back a shiver. "Then you're fucking stupid. Anyone can play that game." Killer tapped his phone, smirking as Cross grimaced at the sound. "Killer, I swear to the stars, if you don't stop-"

"You'll what? Are you going to punish me?" Killer mentally swore as soon as he said that. Dial it back, idiot. Cross didn't react to it other than scoffing and putting his pen down. "Fat chance, you masochist. No, I'll just let Epic into your room." Killer's expression soured, "You better not."

Killer didn't really like Epic. He was closer to Cross than anyone else, knew more about him than most, and he had somehow caught wind of Killer's stupid crush. He'd made it his goal to constantly prod at Killer about it, and it pissed Killer off. But nothing was more annoying than the chickens.

Cross sneered, "I just might if you don't shut that shit up." Killer stuck his tongue out, to Cross's chagrin. Nightmare, who'd been silent the whole time, let out a harsh breath, making the two shut up. He glared at them over the edge of his book, "Go flirt elsewhere, you morons." Cross fake gagged, "Flirt? With that thing? Boss, you'll make me sick."

Ah. Another reason Killer tried to keep from giving any evidence to his feelings. The minute the other's made a comment similar to Night's, Cross never failed to express his disgust. Of course, he couldn't let Cross know that it stung, so he swallowed the ache and scoffed. "Feeling's mutual." Cross flipped him off.

Nightmare's eye lingered on Killer, his expression bearing the tiniest amount of pity and a knowing look. Killer pointedly ignored it, standing up and stretching with a groan. "Dunno about you, but 'm getting kinda peckish." Nightmare's expression didn't change beyond minutely. "Horror may start cooking soon. Cross, go find Dust. I don't want him missing dinner again."

Cross inclined his head, standing up as well. Nightmare gave Killer a look, the most mischievous expression he was capable of, and before Killer could do anything, Nightmare had spoken. "Killer, why don't you go help him." Cross gave a suffering groan, "Boss, c'mon-" Nightmare held up a hand, his gaze on Killer as he repeated himself. "Killer. Why don't you go help him."