Work Text:
“I love you, man.” Sam’s voiced shook, twinged with disbelief at the bloody sight in front of them.
Taurtis nodded, palms pale around the shovel’s hilt. “It had to happen.”
So, Grian was dead.
Bummer?
Neither of them were too sure how it happened, the three were sitting on the couch, Grian got a bit close to one of the other and-
It’s a blur after that, but now they were both covered in blood.
Taurtis is pretty sure some of the red stains on Sam come from him, and some of the copper taste in his mouth comes from Sam.
“I mean, what’s the likeliness we’d get caught anyways right? I mean- our police department is- well. Paul.” Sam stuttered, “and we hid all the evidence!”.
They glanced against at their blood soaked clothes.
“Sam,.. if we get caught..” Taurtis swallowed, “They’ll never take us alive, we’ll live like spoiled royalty, lovers and par-“
Sam shoved him, “are you seriously singing Set It Off at me right now?”.
“No.”
Taurtis coughed, rubbing the shoulder Sam had just shoved.
“I’m.. speaking Set It Off at you right now.”
“You are such an asshole, dude, I’m speaking my true honest worries at you and you’re just mocking me, what kind of-“
Grian watched them walk off, wiping off the thin layer of dirty they sprinkled on top of his lightly bruised body and minor head wound.
His friends were idiots who didn’t even know how to check for a pulse. Or a concussion. They’d probably forget about the whole thing by the time he managed to limp home. It wouldn’t be the first time.
Cheesus, he should’ve stayed in Britain.