[ the trajectory of that blessed ping pong ball is a fucking sight to behold... and keith almost misses it because he's too busy staring at shiro striking poses and showing off. the surge of affection feels almost as ridiculous because keith ought to be immune to this, but it's always a treat to see shiro hamming it up and smiling.
good thing the ball's miraculous flight path ends up being sufficient distraction from the distinctly moony quality of his thoughts, huh? keith blinks, disbelief plain to see. as certain as he'd been about the rigging, he was really only half serious about how to win...
there are some real questions to be asked here like how the fuck this amusement park has seemingly set this game up to even enable this gimmick, but with a toe in that rabbit hole and the reminder that he turned fucking purple here once is sufficient cause to abandon the headache waiting to happen. looks like shiro is right there with him -- or should that be on him? the arm wraps tight around his waist and keith has exactly enough time to blurt: ]
Woah!
[ before throwing his arms around shiro's chest to cling. barely a beat later and keith winds up laughing airily, releasing one shoulder to promptly ruffle fingers through an already wind swept floof. ]
Hey!
[ he starts, then stops rather ineloquently. baby. right. boyfriends do that sort of thing. calling each other by pet names and sweet nothings and -- fuck. his face starts to warm all over again, heart beating a little too fast for something so innocuous. baby. does he like it when shiro calls him baby? does eh want to be shiro's baby? is he meant to call him something cheesy right back? flustering, the tussle slows and keith pushes back shiro's hair from his face. ]
You did it, you... waffle?
[ .... f u c k. flushing harder with embarrassment because he doesn't have a clue how the hell that'll be taken, he ads hastily: <.small>]
You know.. cuz they're sweet?
[ fuckfuckfcuk. but if there's any silver lining to this situation, it's found surprisingly in the form of that horrid animatronic. music starts to play from a rusted speaker in its chest as it slowly whirs to life and points upwards to the prizes hanging from the rafters. ]
but it makes sense!! tl;dr so hard to type with flippers.... best flop away from the animatronic!
good thing the ball's miraculous flight path ends up being sufficient distraction from the distinctly moony quality of his thoughts, huh? keith blinks, disbelief plain to see. as certain as he'd been about the rigging, he was really only half serious about how to win...
there are some real questions to be asked here like how the fuck this amusement park has seemingly set this game up to even enable this gimmick, but with a toe in that rabbit hole and the reminder that he turned fucking purple here once is sufficient cause to abandon the headache waiting to happen. looks like shiro is right there with him -- or should that be on him? the arm wraps tight around his waist and keith has exactly enough time to blurt: ]
Woah!
[ before throwing his arms around shiro's chest to cling. barely a beat later and keith winds up laughing airily, releasing one shoulder to promptly ruffle fingers through an already wind swept floof. ]
Hey!
[ he starts, then stops rather ineloquently. baby. right. boyfriends do that sort of thing. calling each other by pet names and sweet nothings and -- fuck. his face starts to warm all over again, heart beating a little too fast for something so innocuous. baby. does he like it when shiro calls him baby? does eh want to be shiro's baby? is he meant to call him something cheesy right back? flustering, the tussle slows and keith pushes back shiro's hair from his face. ]
You did it, you... waffle?
[ .... f u c k. flushing harder with embarrassment because he doesn't have a clue how the hell that'll be taken, he ads hastily: <.small>]
You know.. cuz they're sweet?
[ fuckfuckfcuk. but if there's any silver lining to this situation, it's found surprisingly in the form of that horrid animatronic. music starts to play from a rusted speaker in its chest as it slowly whirs to life and points upwards to the prizes hanging from the rafters. ]