[ … when keith says it, it sounds awfully stupid, doesn’t it? shiro cringes and then reverts, all that progress of sitting up straight and ditching the pout undoing in an instant. shoulders draw in and hitch higher, slightly, as if bracing himself against judgment. he certainly looks guilty, even though his head gives a stubborn shake of denial. ]
That’s not what I’m saying.
[ he’s still staring at his lap. it’s safe. it’s comfortable. it’s less ruinous to his determination to get through these next five minutes. ]
I’m saying… [ oh god, what is he saying? he falters because, truthfully, he’s never had to articulate the root of this begrudging tolerance. in the beginning, it was easy. the ill-fated teleportation trip to the bathhouse locker room gave him license to side-eye that wolf for a good couple of weeks. but shiro is rational beyond his stubbornness, so inevitably, he'd accepted it being a mistake made worse by whatever magic this prison holds. since then, he’s had no valid explanation for discouraging the wolf’s presence… but he has and he hasn’t thought heavily on why other than the shallow three's a crowd and they need privacy.
so what is it really? he comes to the answer and just knows he’s going to bring ridicule to himself. but they’re here, with keith’s hand holding his as he waits, so best to bite the bullet and get it over with, yeah? shiro exhales a huff through his nose, lips currently locked up tight on that ever present pout. finally, he does try again. ]
I’m saying… it’s difficult to share you. [ a proper sigh this time. ] And it’s taking awhile for me to learn how to.
[ because he’s never had to, you know? share. not like this. he knows keith’s been with other people here, but somehow that’s easier, because it’s fleeting. the keith shiro has always known has never had anyone else. from the garrison to voltron, shiro was – not everything, but close? maybe? terrible, isn’t it? for him to be grumbling over keith having someone else to adore. but here he is all the same. jealous of a fucking dog for stealing just a few of keith’s early morning cuddles. ]
no no. different shiro. noct shiro has gator jokes, keith, the babies & more keith stuffed in there
That’s not what I’m saying.
[ he’s still staring at his lap. it’s safe. it’s comfortable. it’s less ruinous to his determination to get through these next five minutes. ]
I’m saying… [ oh god, what is he saying? he falters because, truthfully, he’s never had to articulate the root of this begrudging tolerance. in the beginning, it was easy. the ill-fated teleportation trip to the bathhouse locker room gave him license to side-eye that wolf for a good couple of weeks. but shiro is rational beyond his stubbornness, so inevitably, he'd accepted it being a mistake made worse by whatever magic this prison holds. since then, he’s had no valid explanation for discouraging the wolf’s presence… but he has and he hasn’t thought heavily on why other than the shallow three's a crowd and they need privacy.
so what is it really? he comes to the answer and just knows he’s going to bring ridicule to himself. but they’re here, with keith’s hand holding his as he waits, so best to bite the bullet and get it over with, yeah? shiro exhales a huff through his nose, lips currently locked up tight on that ever present pout. finally, he does try again. ]
I’m saying… it’s difficult to share you. [ a proper sigh this time. ] And it’s taking awhile for me to learn how to.
[ because he’s never had to, you know? share. not like this. he knows keith’s been with other people here, but somehow that’s easier, because it’s fleeting. the keith shiro has always known has never had anyone else. from the garrison to voltron, shiro was – not everything, but close? maybe? terrible, isn’t it? for him to be grumbling over keith having someone else to adore. but here he is all the same. jealous of a fucking dog for stealing just a few of keith’s early morning cuddles. ]