[ the amount of perspiration keith is producing is worrisome. expected, maybe, because his body is fighting against the drug, but expected doesn’t make it any easier to watch. should shiro add that to his list of duties, too? to retrieve some bottles of water? toward the end of their anonymous days, he used to keep a small stash of electrolyte drinks here, often snagging one or two, depending on the duration and enthusiasm expended. he can’t remember if he cleared it out the last time they were here, dicking around with that thong challenge. he’ll have to check.
… in a minute, apparently. is that a legitimate suggestion?
dubiously, shiro shifts his gaze lower to those prison pants, thinking only of size differences in which keith is clearly more petite. but then keith makes the executive decision of not giving shiro any time to turn him down. that ass lifts and shiro is forced to reconsider his earlier assessment: okay, keith isn’t small everywhere. ]
I’ll find you something to drink in a minute. Don’t liquify into goo just yet.
[ then he moves to grasp keith’s pants, more so for the other boy’s comfort than any small possibility that they’ll fit him. for a moment, he almost forgets. his head is overstuffed with worry – the sweating, the sentries, the state of their relationship and how they’re going to navigate all of this in the aftermath – so he doesn’t have the mental capacity to focus on everything. meaning? he grabs at the hem before he comprehends.
but then he sees it. it’s fucking right there in the ruined char of keith’s pants. he hesitates, feeling sick at the mere sight. but then he pulls himself together and works the pants down, being sure to bunch the material as best he can to minimize the fabric snagging over the burn. eventually, he gets the pants off, but he doesn’t immediately go to force them on; he merely stands beside, holding them in both hands. ]
I’ll try to find something for the burn, too. [ he doubts he can miraculously find pain medicine or a healing salve of some kind. a cool compress is probably the best he can do; how pathetic. ]
good bc we are glued
… in a minute, apparently. is that a legitimate suggestion?
dubiously, shiro shifts his gaze lower to those prison pants, thinking only of size differences in which keith is clearly more petite. but then keith makes the executive decision of not giving shiro any time to turn him down. that ass lifts and shiro is forced to reconsider his earlier assessment: okay, keith isn’t small everywhere. ]
I’ll find you something to drink in a minute. Don’t liquify into goo just yet.
[ then he moves to grasp keith’s pants, more so for the other boy’s comfort than any small possibility that they’ll fit him. for a moment, he almost forgets. his head is overstuffed with worry – the sweating, the sentries, the state of their relationship and how they’re going to navigate all of this in the aftermath – so he doesn’t have the mental capacity to focus on everything. meaning? he grabs at the hem before he comprehends.
but then he sees it. it’s fucking right there in the ruined char of keith’s pants. he hesitates, feeling sick at the mere sight. but then he pulls himself together and works the pants down, being sure to bunch the material as best he can to minimize the fabric snagging over the burn. eventually, he gets the pants off, but he doesn’t immediately go to force them on; he merely stands beside, holding them in both hands. ]
I’ll try to find something for the burn, too. [ he doubts he can miraculously find pain medicine or a healing salve of some kind. a cool compress is probably the best he can do; how pathetic. ]