Chapter Text
"You're... Pregnant?"
If Epic had heard those questioning words 10 years ago, he would've laughed at the absurdity of it.
Today, he jumped in surprise from the sudden baritone voice behind him. He was well on his way to adjusting into his new permanent residence with his best-man/baby-daddy and his off-putting roommates. Coworkers? Partners? Epic wasn't entirely sure, but he definitely noticed the lingering touches and easy comfort between Cross and the others.
"Yeah. Did.. uh- did Cross tell you?"
In an achingly slow movement, Horror shook his head. Despite his intimidating appearance, Epic's unease wasn't something that made him feel unsafe. Cross trusted these guys with his pregnant mate, and so Epic would trust them all the same.
Except he was just caught with his hand stuck in a cookie jar, sneaking around Horror's kitchen like a toddler.
"You smell... milky... milky like pups."
Epic exhaled, pulling out a cookie and hesitantly taking a bite out of it, all while maintaining eye contact with Horror's spooky singular eyeball. At least they've got something in common.
"Milky?" he spoke incredulously, internally unnerved despite knowing he was stronger than the other skeleton. "You can smell my souling from over there?"
Horror's chest rumbled, not unlike a growl, but sounding more like a purr. Epic guessed that sound was meant to be a confirmation. He wasn't sure. What he did know was that he wanted to slip back into his and Cross' shared room for a nap.
"Milky.. and chocolate... like you and Cross... mixed together."
Epic glances over to him, failing to put the jar back on top of the fridge due to his short stature. A chuckle leaves him, as Horror sounded more like he were talking to himself than to him.
"So together we make chocolate milk?" He asks, frowning slightly, giving up, and setting the jar back down on the counter. On queue, Horror snuck up behind him, taking the jar and putting it where it had been prior to Epic's craving. He takes another bite of the rather delicious cookie before Horror leans over, pressing his face by Epic's shoulder.
It's a little strange as the foreign skeleton scents him, he's only spoken to the guy a grand total of twice, but Epic guessed it wasn't entirely on purpose. Or maybe he just didn't understand social cues. Horror stands there silently, thinking, maybe, as Epic turns away.
"Cookie," he says suddenly, sounding like an assertion rather than a statement. "Not good for for the baby." Horror explains in a surprisingly gentle voice, hushed almost intimately, eerily enough.
Epic blinks, somewhat surprised by the sudden accusation. "But I like cookies, bruh. They taste good."
The two stand in an awkward silence, looking at one another like they each had half a mind. Epic finishes off his cookie, considers getting another one, and decidedly doesn't because Horror still stood by the fridge. "You need food... that's good for baby..." Horror says, before turning to search the fridge for anything that fit the criteria.
"Okay, uhm. Horror, bruh, I'm not exactly hungry. I don't need to- uh.." Epic watches as Horror picked out a variety of ingredients, "To eat... right now..."
Despite his small protest, Horror seemed like he made himself clear, Epic's words trailing off into nothing. "To keep you and the pup... healthy.."
As he expertly began preparing to make dinner, Epic stood there, unsure if he should stay or leave. He'd been living in Nightmare's castle for about a week now, but he hadn't come down to eat dinner like the others. He kept falling asleep, feeling exhausted from his magic working all day.
"You need to... to come eat regular dinners." Horror somewhat explained as Epic began to understand. He was worried about him, and by extension, the souling. Prior to moving in, Epic became more acquainted with Nightmare, who filled him in on things about the team, like this. Horror has food related trauma and was, apparently, territorial and observant.
"Sorry about that, bruh. Promise I'm not skipping out on your cooking... I've been sleeping a lot earlier than usual, y'know." Epic grins, patting his vacant stomach area with his hand, "Pup tires me out."
Horror looked up at him, stared for a moment, before once again making that rumbling noise from within his chest. It sounded simultaneously like cracking floorboards and rattling bones. Epic took the opportunity to run back to his room, feeling slightly creeped out but mostly like an asshole.
"So, Horror. Is he always so.." Epic pauses, giving a small gesture with his hands. Cross sat in a beanbag on the floor, glancing between him and whatever game he was playing. He chuckles wholeheartedly, full of understanding and affection, whether for him or Horror, Epic wasn't sure.
"Yeah.. he's a little awkward but he's a sweetheart. You might want to make some adjustments in your sleep schedule, though, because he'll start worrying you're not eating enough."
Epic sighed, laying on their bed, propped up by an assortment of pillows. He didn't exactly want to say that Horror was already worrying about Epic's eating habit. "He's not the only one who worries too much, then..." He responds quietly, but Cross picks up on the words. His face flushes, a barely there lilac tint at the description.
"I don't worry too much..." He tries to retaliate as he takes quite a few hits in the game, the accusation seeming to have caught him off guard.
"You definitely worry too much."
A minute passes before Cross pauses his game, sitting up to get a better look at Epic posted up on the bed. "How do I worry too much?" He asks, and Epic smiles.
"Well, for one, you decided on making me your stay at home baby mama as soon as you found out about the souling," Epic starts, humorously, and Cross takes it a bit more seriously than he does.
"What?" He gets a little defensive, and maybe a little embarrassed, too, "we decided it would be for the best if we lived together. She can have a stable life here-"
"And there we go." Epic cuts him off, "We're safer here, with you, where you can protect us, right?" He asks, slightly smug expression on his face as Cross' darkens.
Cross pauses for a moment, knowing Epic is right about his protectiveness but not seeing where it is he worries too much. "Where you can both be safer, well protected with several people who have fighting experience, So yes, you're safer here with me, but that doesn't mean-"
"What about your last heat where you wouldn't let me leave the nest, period?" He asks, Cross' face flooding with purple and darkening exponentially, "or what about when you were a whiny mess after-"
"Okay! Fine! Maybe I do worry a lot. For good reason, though." Cross argues, as flustered as always. It was cute, if Epic were honest.
"I know," Epic answers with a snicker, "it's okay, I know you worry about it."
Cross softens, bones less tense as his body goes lax into the beanbag. "I do worry about her, but I-"
Just then, there's a pounding at the door, one Cross instantly recognizes as Killer's. For a moment he felt relief, an escape from his growing embarrassment. Until he remembered it was Killer, who was about a good dozen times worse than Epic. He stands with a dramatic groan, opening the door up to me met with his partner.
"Heya, Criss-Cross. Ya hungry? Cause I've got something real nice and real big I wouldn't mind feeding you right about now."
Cross stares at him, silently unimpressed for a moment, earning a snicker from Epic. Accepting the flirt as having failed again, Killer leans on the door frame. "Big H says it's dinner time and the both of you are required to attend."
Cross looks back at Epic, who checks the time, shrugging, "but dinner's not for another couple hours.."
Killer shrugs ceremoniously, doing an extra little spin at he turns around, leaving the two behind as he heads towards Dust's room. Cross leans outside the door, before turning back to help Epic up of their bed. He keeps his hold on his hand for a minute longer than necessary, "come on, you don't want to see what happens when Horror thinks you're starving yourself."
Epic decides he doesn't want to ask as they make their way down the stairs, Cross' careful hand guiding, but not touching him.
Having not previously joined the dinner table, Epic was surprised to find the seating arrangement was very meticulous. Dust to the left of Horror, Cross the the right, followed by Killer. There was a bit of shuffling as they regrouped just so Epic could be seated next to Cross. Killer moved to the other end of the table, dramatically.
Horror grumbled something Epic didn't understand, rearranging the plates till they were decidedly just right. When Epic glanced down the table, Dust glared off into space, seemingly annoyed. He wasn't sure if it was because of having to sit next to Killer now, or the early dinner being suddenly delayed, but Epic was starting to feel a little out of place.
A shiver runs up his spine at the easily recognizable presence of Nightmare and his aura. Epic can barely resist a chuckle at his own internal monologue, before Cross nudges him with his elbow.
Nightmare was looking at him intently, that dangerous singular eye-light (he guesses three's a crowd) providing him with zero insight of why. "Uh—" But before he can question what the fuck he managed to space out on, Nightmare's saves him from his oncoming embarrassment.
"Dinner-time will be adjusted as an accommodation, at the request of Horror," He explains, and Epic slowly begins sinking into his seat. Because his state totally had no influence on this sudden decision. "As such, you are all expected to appear at the table to eat at 5:30 in the afternoon until further notice."
At least it only pushed back an hour officially, and not the extra half hour like tonight. Either way, Epic feels like he's surely becoming an inconvenience amongst the members of his new, permanent home. That's just amazing. At least the reasoning behind the questioning glances towards him from Dust and Killer occur because the answer hasn't been leaked yet.
Even though more than half of the table knows, leaving only the two in the dark. He thinks. Maybe they also have the same uber-sniffing sense as Horror and can pick that apparent milky smell from him. He thinks not, as he shovels a spoonful of some kind of poultry he doesn't pay much mind to.
Most of his attention is going into analyzing the others, like how Nightmare isn't eating, or Dust trembling in his seat, or Killer playing with his food. They seem so effortlessly content with their surroundings—well, maybe not Dust—in a way he can't quite manage. He starts thinking each bite into this weirdly amazingly flavored food is gonna come back to get him violently, probably in his nightmares.
Soon, Killer attempts to engage in some playful conversation with at literally any of the others, with a solid 50% success rate as Cross smiles at him and Horror kindly asks (even though his tone of voice sounded threatening) to stop playing with the food and actually eat it.
He grimaced. Was dinner time always this awkward, or was it only his presence influencing it? He didn't want to dwell on it, as much as his subconscious insisted on reminding him of his theory. Always searching for some sort of explanation.
His fork scrapes against bare plate as he looks down at it blankly. He did not want to finish what was left on the plate, but at least he did eat the most of it. Right now he regrets not taking a moment before to ask Cross about any customs he should know. He really wishes he could dismiss himself but his uncertainty of whether or not that was acceptable left him trapped with his growing discomfort and wish to distance himself.
The second time Killer attempts at socializing through small talk, Dust kicks him under the table before he can finish. From what Epic registered, it was some form of a rather rude, exaggerated flirt, somewhat like the one he made earlier. Nightmare sighs in response, running his hand down his face. He seemed just as displeased with their actions as Epic felt with his seemingly distasteful presence.
He really, really wants this to be over with. He shrinks in on himself when he feels Nightmare's gaze shift towards him, much too professional in demeanor for his taste. Cross and Horror exchange some words as he stares off into the distance, where Killer very shamelessly allows himself to speak filth to Dust. Dust doesn't seem very appreciative.
None of them are eating anymore as dinner shifts more into social hour, one that Epic didn't feel very invited into. Nightmare stands, catching everyone's attention as their voices drop to nothing, and he looks over the five of them. "Epic," he ragdolls halfway into his seat, "join me in clearing the table, would you?"
Huh. He should be more used to his spookiness by now, shouldn't he? Everyone that clears off, Cross lingering before Nightmare shoots him a look. Epic starts by piling plates, feeling slightly more at ease with only the one other presence he's grown accustom to. "I've been meaning to ask you about you experience staying here so far."
Epic glances up at Nightmare, plates clattering faintly in his hands. What's he gonna say? It's been lovely, thanks for having me! By the way, I still feel like shit! It almost seems like every time I feel slightly better, it'll draw back down soon enough!
"What's about it, bossman?" Nightmare gives him a look, since that's a nickname he heard Killer say one time during the introductory period. Night was very firm on Killer about being polite and all that jazz, to not mess with Epic or whatever. Not like Epic wouldn't be able to handle it, anyways. He's been through worse. It would just end up being another day, precursor to an awful night.
"Have you made yourself further acquainted with your new housemates?" He asks, but clearly already knows the answer. Night has been a little pushy on him about supposedly branching out and meeting the gang. They're gonna practically help raise the kid, in the end so it made sense, but they give him the heebie-jeebies.
So instead, he rather unceremoniously does the best possible answer one could have. Epic shrugs in response. Nightmare sighs in slight disappointment. "Very well, then." He states rather plainly, shaking his head as they take all the dishes into the kitchen.
When they put the dishes in the sink, Nightmare pauses, turning to Epic and giving him one of his looks. Those subtly terrifying, accusatory looks, one that leaves jitters up and down your spine. Not fun, in Epic's books. "On a more important note, I must discuss your sleep impairment." Nightmare says, ominously as ever, staring straight into Epic's single purple eye.
"That thing of yours, it's some quite impressive technology, I hope you know." Epic smiles, a little nervously, offering a good old 'yeah, I know,' but is cut off real quick before he can even muster up the words. "It continuously grows in power exponentially. It's energy is astounding, and, frankly put, infuriating."
...
"Tell me about it." Epic says, over 20 years of experience with the thing backing him on his deadpan. No shit, he knew that.
"While I can keep those dreams of yours under control," he starts, and Epic's soul almost drops. "It won't be a permanent fix. That eye of yours... it's power will one day surpass my own. I cannot assist you forever."
Epic didn't even think Nightmare would be able to help for one night. The idea of the nightmares returning, even only being without them for a week, makes Epic's already cold magic drop to a freezing temperature. He's not surprised, to say the least, but there goes all his hopes.
"We could always try to find a way to extract it, but—" Epic cuts Nightmare off for the first time then, raising his hand like a schoolboy. "You won't."
Agitation seems to overtake Nightmare, even faintly for a small moment, but Epic recognizes it. He's seen it on his own face a hundred times over. "There's no use. Besides, no telling if I'd even survive losing it."
Strained silence grows between them, and Nightmare only glares. "So you give up on any chance of freedom from your curse so easily?"
Epic shrugs. What else is he to do? "I'd rather live with it."
Even if he won't say it, Epic can tell Nightmare doubts him and his statement. He can't hide his cynical ideology from the God. Night feasts on it day in and day out. Epic's mental state is probably beyond a delicious to him.
"You're far stronger than anyone else here." Nightmare points out the obvious, a shit eating grin crossing his goopy face. "I insist, once you're finished harboring this souling of yours, you join the gang. They could use you."
He would. Cross would kill him, though. Epic can picture Cross' anger already. "I might hit you up on that one."
Epic turns to leave, practically skipping away with a feign good mood despite his wreck of bad news. "You're a man-made God among mortals," Nightmare calls out, but Epic doesn't wait to listen, "don't waste that power before it consumes you whole."
He doesn't want to think about that part. Practically immortal is what he is because of the eye, something he's feared, but what he knows the inevitability of its one day end. He'll just have to wait and see it happen.
Marching down the halls delightfully, Epic heads for Cross' room. It's the only place in the castle he remembers the exact location of. He could simply blip on over there, but the walk feels worthwhile with his eager mood.
He doesn't even panic when his dazed self face plants straight into a monstrously hard chest. He just can't stop running into people today, apparently. It seems to be a very sociable day for Epic.
And it's with his eye twin. Fun stuff! Horror grasps his arms a little tighter than necessary (for what? Epic's not sure) but he doesn't recoil. The guy leans down, and, as expected, eagerly scents Epic again. It's kind of awkward, maybe even moreso than the first time. But hey! At least Horror seems pleased.
"You didn't finish your plate." Horror announces, gruffly, standing back up straight and giving Epic a glare.
...
"Sorry?" He could've probably come up with a better response, and excuse even, but really? What's the point? "I guess I didn't want to.."
Horror does not look pleased with that. If Epic could, he'd probably have shit his pants with the look on the skeleton's face. There goes his lucky mood.
"You were sad." Okay. Interesting. Epic doesn't remember being sad, but he's pretty sure Horror's not on his a-game when it comes to reading people's faces.
"I was not." He could explain himself, but Epic... Doesn't want to explain his unfortunate bout of anxiety that occurred during dinner.
"You weren't happy."
"That's true. I wasn't."
He pouts like a dog, and it's kind of cute, reminds Epic a lot of Cross. They've got something in common, and Epic feels smug knowing it's the being so worrisome aspect of their personalities. It's not even a general Sans-thing, either. It's just a them thing.
"What's is it... That's so wrong?"
Epic shrugs. It feels like his favorite response today. "Just wasn't feeling it."
Horror is definitely not enjoying this anymore than Epic was dinner. If what the Omega timeline residents said about Horror were more truth than speculation, he'd worry about being dinner.
"Stress is not good... For the pup... Or for you." That's unreasonably cute coming from the big guy, it just sucks that Epic's been stressed throughout the course of his entire life.
"So, what? You gonna de-stress me?" He chuckles at his own wordplay, but Horror doesn't. So unamused, this guy. Where's his Sans-ness gone? With the sanity?
Oh, boy. He doesn't know how to react when Horror lifts him into his arm and starts carrying him down the hall. He's glad he recognizes when they make it to the hall Cross' bedroom is at, so he doesn't complain much.
Cross jumps when Horror barges in, throwing the door open rather loudly. "Stars, Horror, what the—?!" But he shut up quickly when he takes in the sight of Epic in his arms. Epic waves at his man. Cross gives him a confused look as they communicate silently.
"Your baby mama is sad." Horror states plainly, sounding internally frustrated and lacking patience for any more of Epic's shit. He and Killer must get along great. "Comfort him."
With that, Horror drops Epic on to Cross' lap. It's a gesture that almost surprises Cross as much as the fact that Horror knows about the souling. He coughs in shock, arms wrapping around Epic like he's in risk at all, and Epic wants to groan when he feels Cross worry.
"You are? Why? What's wrong?"
These idiots. He sits up, pushing himself out of Cross' arms (who wasn't very happy about the action) sitting on the floor next to him. "I'm not."
Cross looks at him, then Horror, then back at him, tension growing tenfold between the three. Both Horror and Epic look like toddlers ready to throw a tantrum.
"Oh...kay." He drags the word out, sitting up to play mediator, "Horror, so, what's going on."
"He was upset during dinner... Didn't finish... His food."
Cross turns to Epic, and Epic turns away so he can't face him. They both know Epic wasn't feeling the best during dinner. "Epic."
Really, he'll be a good dad. It feels like he's scolding him. He wonders maybe if their kid will have their combined stubbornness. "What was up during dinner?"
Epic huffs, crossing his arms over his chest and looking off to the wall. "Nothing. I just didn't feel well—"
"Don't lie to me."
Who's he kidding. That kid is gonna be stubborn as a bull.
"I just didn't feel like I was part of the group, okay?" He doesn't want to be vulnerable right now, not in front of both Horror and Cross. He wants his happy go lucky mood back and to crack jokes. "I felt out of place."
They're all quiet for a second, and Epic turns his face to catch a glimpse of the confused look on Cross' face.
"Dude. You're more than part of the group. Horror's worrying about you and everything. You're family."
Is he, really? He's the only one not part of the gang. He's the only one who just kind of showed up, the only one who skipped dinners and breakfasts, the only one seemingly uninvited into their private lives. That doesn't seem like he's as much of 'family' as the rest of them.
"Yeah. I'm practically an unwanted in-law. The one where your dad didn't give me the blessing to marry you."
They're quiet again. Epic really doesn't like that. Horror's the one to speak up next.
"You should tell them..."
It has him and Cross looking at each other, and Cross seems to be considering it. Epic turns that idea down really quick.
"No."
"Why not?"
"I just don't want to. Not yet."
"Then when?"
He just feels a little pissed off right now. "Not now." But there's a really harsh but to his voice that has Cross recoiling.
Can he really be blamed? He doesn't even know these guys, really. Cross does, sure, but Epic doesn't feel invited into their circle, and that's a big strain in this supposed family dynamic. He almost wants to cry, but he's tired of crying. He's been doing it way too much these days. He started crying yesterday over a video of a dog on his phone. These hormones are driving him crazy.
And he snapped at Cross. He should feel bad about the hurt look on his face but he's too damn pissed to care.
"You know what," he says suddenly, standing up with regret already building in his head. "You two can sit around and worry together like family while I go find something to be a part of."
He's being kind of an ass, but he doesn't want to care right now.
"Oh, come on, dude—" he doesn't stay to listen to Cross' words as he slams the door and short circuits to the first place he can think of.
"You've got to be kidding me."
Killer grins upon seeing Epic, excitement bubbling clear as day inside of the guy. Epic does not want to deal with him right now.
"Oh, fancy seeing you here, huh?" He wants to ask what the hell he's doing in the kitchen, then realizes Killer lives here too and he should probably lay off on being a dick. Besides, he's here for cookies. "Who pissed in your coffee?"
"Fuck off." Never mind, he'll be a dick. It's really just such a great way to get to know the guy, but Killer doesn't seem bothered at all. In fact, he seems really amused.
"Wow. Man, I really wanna know who blew your fuse, I mean, didn't think you had one," Killer actually has some decency as he speaks, barely holding back his eager chuckling. Epic only reaches for the cookie jar on top of the fridge.
"It wasn't your boyfriend, was it?" And Epic stills for a moment, Killer noticing it instantly. "Oh, shit! Crossy did something, huh? Well, I almost thought you were like Dustbun and liked losin' your shit for no real reason."
Something tells Epic that Killer is that reason half the time. He manages to retrieve himself a cookie and begin munching on it, ignoring Killer's curiosity.
Curiosity that he starts gaining as Killer pulls a bottle of some really fancy looking alcohol out of a cabinet. "What type of partying are you doing?" He asks, unable to help himself.
"Oh, little old me? Nothing really. Just trying to get on Dusty's good side to hopefully get in his pants later." Killer is really, weirdly honest. It's a bit of a refresher as the supposed stressor is actually bringing him down from his high. "He's real cute when he gets all blushy, but it's hard to come by. It's a fifty-fifty with that one, but he's a perfect sub. When he wants to, at least. He'll beat your ass otherwise. Or fuck it."
Very open about his sex life, too. Not as much of a surprise. Might be a reason behind Dust's supposed anger, though, he seems to value his privacy. Epic finds himself eating a third, maybe fourth cookie when Killer looks back at him, "so, you wanna come with? Not for the sex, I mean, unless you want to, but for the drinking?"
Epic should not be drinking. He follows Killer, anyways, bringing an extra cookie with him. Its not a long walk but Killer manages to fill it with a marathon of at least 10 different storytimes before they make it into a living space. Epic hasn't been in this one before, but damn, it's nice. Dust is staring off into space on the main couch with a cat on his lap when Killer makes himself at home next to him.
It's amusing the way Dust doesn't seem to mind Killer's presence as much as he acts like it. Epic sits on a different couch, watching the interaction, at least up until Dust snatches the bottle out of Killer's hand and shoves him harshly. It looked really painful. Killer didn't seem to care at all.
"Oh, Bun, you know I love ya," he says, sitting right back up and again invading his personal space and patting the fluffy cat in his lap. Dust responds by taking an impressively long swig of the drink. "You hit hard, you know? It almost hurts as much as when I fell for you."
If there's anything Epic has learned, it's that Killer is flirty. Very insistent in a sweep you off your feet type of way. Killer takes his own swig of the alcohol as Dust mutters for him to shut up, pushing his hand away from the feline. Killer offers the bottle over to Epic.
He hesitates. "I shouldn't." Is what he says, earning a look from the two of them, but Killer shrugs and passes the bottle back to Dust. He let out a barely there sigh of relief from the lack of questioning.
"You know, Epic, this here is my kid," Killer starts out of nowhere, lifting up the grey and white tuxedo cat, who meows in protest. Dust elbows Killer, who seems confused for a split second before fixing his statement. "Our kid. My little Mochi. She's a sweet baby."
Killer looks incredibly happy about the introduction as Dust takes swig after swig of the alcohol with the other distracted. "Dusty's the mom, and I'm the dad, we're like a little family."
This interaction is starting to get a little weird. Killer is getting very in character before taking his own swig of the alcohol, not even grabbing it out of Dust's hands, "but we have our marital problems, kind of like yours."
That sudden statement catches both his and Dust's attention, the two giving each other a look. "You're having problems with Cross?" He asks, suddenly, and it's the clearest Epic has heard his voice.
"No, no, we're not!" Epic defends, feeling put on the spot, but Killer shakes his head. "Oh, but babes, you don't have to hide it. You see, Bun, Crossy did something to wring our funnybone here a fuse like yours," he earns a glare from Dust, but then Dust gives Epic a concerned look.
"I know, I don't believe it either!" He says, sounding shocked, before playing it off with a chuckle, "just kidding. Cross gots a bit of a stick up his ass, sometimes. I bet it's a tough argument, huh?"
Dust shakes his head, shoving both Mochi and the alcohol into Killer's arms before standing, "what happened?" He asks, and Epic can guess he might already be a little tipsy when he plants himself back down. "Has he apologized?"
Epic grimaces. He feels like the whole thing was his fault, guilt sinking in now. He's invited into Killer and Dust's life right now, what was he thinking? They're playing married couple and everything. The gay uncles who are always gonna ask about if your shitty husband is abusive when they see you crying at the reunion.
"It's... It's nothing... It was just a small disagreement."
Dust seems to believe him, still with some concern and confusion, but Killer definitely does not. "No way! A simple disagreement doesn't leave your panties in a twist like that. Unless you're Dust."
Killer pauses. "But Crossy never gets Dusty upset like that..." He didn't seem the most genuine, but his weird soul does a little flicker as he tilts his head in a silent question. "It is serious, isn't it?"
It is. But they don't know that. Or even why. And Epic really does not want to explain it to them. As chill as they seem, he doesn't. And he's not sure why. Maybe it's not the right time.
"It's not... Break-up serious.. is it?" Dust asks, leaning forward, about as eager to know the drama as Killer is.
"Of course not." He says, and they both seem to breathe themselves a bit of relief. "I just... I got a little mad. It's not his fault. We weren't even arguing of anything."
"So you are like Dusty!" And Dust smacks Killer upside the head, leaving a loud, uncomfortable sound that causes even Mochi to jump. "Shut it."
Epic smiles, shaking his head, "no, I think it's you, bruh."
Dust takes the bottle from Killer, who rubs the back of his skull with a pout, letting Mochi go as she runs off elsewhere. Dust nods in agreement, taking a swig, but Killer looks at Epic expectantly.
"Well? Go make up with Cross."
He takes that advice, nodding and standing up to leave. Epic notices the way Dust's eyes remained firmly on him as he ran off, faintly hearing him reject Killer's advances. He hears the sound of glass shattering and decides to just fast travel back to Cross' room.
Cross stood, seeming like he was definitely worrying, immediately bringing Epic into his arms.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have pushed you—"
"Shut up, bruh."
They hug for a second, before Epic pulls away, hands on Cross' arms. "I'm sorry." He says, shaking Cross as soon as he tries to retaliate. "I'm sorry a flew so far off the handle on you, because you were right. I'm perfectly welcome here. I had no reason to be upset."
He stops shaking Cross and lets go of him, dropping his hands. But there's a fond, loving look crossing (lol) Cross' face. "What? No, dude. You have every right to be upset or feel uncomfortable. The gang is practically strangers to you... I mean, it took me forever to warm up to them."
They share a look, and Epic grins, "that's cuz you're a wuss."
"Seriously? What, and you're not gonna apologize to that one, huh?"
"Thought I was entitled to my feelings, bruh."
Cross doesn't look impressed as he sighs, but then let's out and amused chuckle.
"Okay, okay, fine. Save your apologies for Horror."
Epic's kind of embarrassed now that he thinks about.
"Actually, I think I'm tired," he pretends to yawn and stretch, making his way over to Cross' bed, "I'm gonna go ahead and, y'know, go to bed and forget today happened. See ya next chapter, if it ever comes."
"Okay, dude, whatever." He shakes his head, playing off Epic's antics, deciding to join him in bed, pulling his close into his chest and spooning him.
...
"This is gay, bruh."
"Yeah... I think that might be... cause we're gay..?"