[ shiro appreciates keith’s playing along. he’s thankful too, because keith’s being generous with him. it wasn’t so long ago that keith was saying he can take care of himself. playful as all this is, it’s still a show of coddling, and so, even with all his silent reassurances to himself, shiro doesn’t fully relax until keith is on the cot, on his back, and looking up at him with a smile.
sir.
shiro huffs a soft, amused sound. of all things to call him… – he shakes his head, smile tugging harder to one side and plumping that cheek round. ]
Now… [ he grabs the edge of the blanket and pulls it over keith, lying it high, right around his collarbones. ]
We tuck.
[ leaning over keith and with one one hand on each side, shiro bunches material underneath keith with hard shoves of his fingers, outlining the shape of keith’s arms from shoulders to mid-forearms. all the while saying: ]
And we burrito. [ though, this isn’t much of a burrito, is it? he can’t exactly roll keith into the blanket. so, he’ll laugh and amend: ] Or I guess this would be better called enchiladaing.
[ the fact that shiro is a giant dork when he's not trying to play team leader is no secret, but it's a side of his best friend that keith hasn't seen in what feels like a lifetime. big exaggeration, of course. four years is more accurate. a year of shiro lost to kerberos and the galra, a year of war, half of which had been hijacked by an imposter clone trying to kill them all. then two years spent in the quantum abyss. it's kind of depressing how little time they've actually managed to spend together just being friends, huh?
even more depressing when you consider porn prison is the first "break" they've gotten from dealing with existential, nihilistic threats to the cosmos.
the thoughts should really be more bothersome, and yet as soon as shiro starts digging his fingers in to smoosh as much blanket under his body, keith and rolls his eyes affectionately. ]
Now you're just making me hungry, Shiro.
[ how long has it been since he's stuffed an enchilada in his mouth anyway? yet another thought best not had at all. ]
You're supposed to make me want to stay in bed, not entertain thoughts of slipping into dietary.
[ he entertains the idea of continuing on to tuck the blanket all the way down to keith’s heels, but he gives up after two more tucks, that end somewhere around keith’s wrists. hungry? for a split second, he has the irrational feeling of guilt. he’s not sure when keith last ate but considering all that happened, he’s certain he skipped dinner. so should shiro run an errand…?
the question has hardly formed and certainly hasn’t been answered by the time he shifts his gaze to keith’s face. seeing the affection there eases that sudden bit of tension and then he’s piggybacking on the joke, clicking his tongue. ]
Hey, no.
[ blanket abandoned, shiro’s got two free hands; look out. he’ll only be using one though, his left, to push his palm flat to the top of keith’s head and fan his fingers out to tangle and ruffle keith’s hair to oblivion. ]
Get those thoughts outta your head.
[ he gives keith’s hair another two ticks of destruction, just to thoroughly pulverize the thought out of his brain, before he relaxes and lets go. he’s grinning wide and shittily by the end of it, voice light. ]
[ keith squirms as best he can to avoid those meddling fingers, tipping his head back on the pillow with a laugh that's almost too earnest in its simplicity. stripped of all context, keith could even see this playing out back at galaxy garrison. just one scrawny cadet looking to pilfer a midnight snack and not getting a proper reprimand from the junior officers on account of having snuck out together to look at an a rare aurora late at night anyway.
but of course, it's never gonna be that simple ever again, huh? keith grins up, happy and yet feeling caught on some precipice. maybe the truth of it is that he doesn't want things to go back to the way they used to be. it's a daunting thought, but having shiro hover above him smiling down feels right in ways that are part mortifying and yet ... soothing?
he relaxes, shaking his head to let his bangs fall more naturally across his face. ]
[ a tick is all it takes for keith to register what he said and how it must have sounded. the look of dawning realization is about as subtle as an exploding rocket launcher. ]
I --uh.. [fuck. eyes wide, keith chokes on air, stammering through the sudden acceleration of his heart. ] Sleeping literally, I mean. You know. Like we both close our eyes and just do the normal falling asleep thing. Just.. together.
[< a beat.]
In the same cot. Even though it'll be kind of cramped and ....
[ shiro’s got bragging rights for quite a few monumental feats: top of his class, youngest pilot to fly a deep space mission, champion, leader of voltron. he’s accomplished and he’s proud; he’s done a lot more than a pubescent diagnosis initially prescribed for his future. right up there with all of that though? he counts stubborning his way past keith’s spiky, no entry, back the fuck off walls as a pretty impressive victory as well. right here, right now, he feels blessed... lucky. he isn’t so narcissistic to believe he’s the only one who ever gets to see keith open and vulnerable, but there is something rare about keith stripped down to the soft aspects of himself, completely unapologetic in his happiness as he grins and laughs and –
blurts out unfiltered questions.
shiro has just begun retucking the loosened edges of the blanket back underneath keith’s shoulders when the question comes. he pauses mid tuck and glances to keith’s face, curiosity furrowing his brow. it’s keith’s reaction that does him in. shiro feeds off of it immediately. keith’s all wide eyes, choked sounds and stammering words, and it’s impossible for shiro to not have his own heart kick up in its beats, face growing warm with every added explanation.
it should be working the opposite way, shouldn’t it? obviously keith hadn’t meant it that way, so why is everyone flustering here? because, the fact that it needs to be explained at all is telling in its own way. against all rhyme and reason, shiro’s mind drifts to the more perverse interpretation and – no. nope. that’s what got them into the whole mess from earlier. ]
I…
[ it’s a mistake. he should never start talking before he’s thought it through. he catches himself, but the one word hangs heavy between them, accompanied by shiro’s surprised, wide eyes and pinker cheeks. at least keith is too busy trying to hide to analyze whatever the hell it is shiro’s face is doing. though, keith hiding sobers him slightly and then he’s thinking, no, he doesn’t want keith’s happiness swallowed up by this. he misses that grin and that laugh already.
so, he holds the stare a beat longer and then exhales. ] Heh. [ he finally withdraws his hands, though one stays behind to playfully flick at keith’s ear. ] After all my hard work too. I think you just want an excuse to be de-encaladaed.
[ perhaps he’s trying too hard to smooth this over with a joke. but it’s the best he can manage in the immediate aftermath. he needs another fill of his lungs to gather himself – and to commit himself to the decision – but then he’s softening his voice and bleeding it dry of the teasing notes. ]
[ forget about hiding his face in the pillow, keith rather wishes the earth could swallow him whole right about now. wishful thinking like that never goes anywhere though, and the best he can manage is simply avoiding whatever face shiro is making at him. this whole conversation has been nothing but a string of mixed, confusing messages that aren't any closer to getting resolved. the last thing keith wants right now is for whatever mess they just barely managed to pull themselves out of to come back full throttle with continued resentment and disappointment.
heart thumping loud in his chest, he actually twitches when there's a flick at his ear, reflex making keith stop trying to hide to look before he's ready. he misses an obvious beat when shiro leads with an unexpected joke. the expected chastising for nonadherence to the normal bounds of their friendship either, despite shiro's earlier conclusion about wanting to stay as they are.
keith swallows, still a touch too nervous to relax entirely. words feel a little stuck in his throat, but he manages to speak in barely louder than whisper tones. ]
I want you to stay. But only if that's what you want too.
[ or maybe that's redundant? i wanted you too. stil do. shiro is full of contradictory sentiments and keith just can't fucking tell which ones are the ones shiro wants respected. even now trying to unpack it just makes him feel .. lost. he looks up, face still half smooshed into the pillow, one eye peeking through his bangs, waiting. ]
I don't... want you to stay if you feel obligated to.
[ obligated, it makes him laugh. it’s a surprised thing. he doesn’t try for it at all. the light, airy sound simply slips out of him, until he realizes a beat too late and snaps his mouth shut. the truth of the matter is that the opposite is true: he feels obligated to leave. the feeling is backed by the usual reasons. protecting the friendship, stemming the want, preserving the status quo and not dragging them anywhere near the argument of a few minutes ago… but aren’t those reasons what started the argument to begin with? he’s fighting against something he might not have any hope in stopping, not without issuing real, irrevocable damage, and that just isn’t worth it in the end.
at this point, the least shiro can do is be honest. that’s what keith desperately wants from him. so he backs off. he gives up on his hovering and straightens up, regarding half-hidden keith for one, weighed moment. ]
I want to stay.
[ there’s confidence in the words; true genuinity that doesn’t leave much room for doubt. he knows he’s been confusing tonight, saying one thing, saying another, and then backtracking to the original offer, yet giving no concrete conclusion to any of it. in a perfect world, he’d pick for them to remain as they’ve always been: best friends. that’s easy and that’s familiar and it works. he’s beginning to realize though, that he can’t simply enforce his will on their friendship. there’s something brewing between them and the more shiro tries to ignore it, the worse off they become.
he can do this. he can try. it’s simple, yet tentatively intimate, and beneath all the worry and uncertainty, he does actually yearn for that closeness with keith. so, with that, shiro says nothing else and turns to action instead. he means it, honest, because look, he’s unzipping his vest and shrugging it off to toss toward the end of the cot, before sitting down to start unbuckling his boots. ]
[ i want to stay. assertive, unambiguous and followed up with actions that match the sentiment. the relief is hard to qualify, but it washes over keith gently like the rising tide at night. the flimsy cot mattress sags a little as shiro takes his seat, angling keith towards his best friend. he doesn't correct or compensate for that, instead letting entropy pull them a little closer, thigh bumping against shiro's back.
not for the first time, keith is a little lost for words. as much as it'd been hurtful to immediately be accused of diminishing shiro's importance, it's in thinking about words-action incongruity that he thinks maybe he can understand why shiro had been upset in the first place. mulling the thought over from that perspective, keith's expression falters,. he's glad that for the moment shiro can't see his face, and decides he wants it to stay that way just a little bit longer.
he rolls towards shiro, one arm raised taised to curl around shiro's waist from behind in a loose embrace. from there, his movements are tentative, but he presses his palm flat to shiro's belly and breathes out quietly; ]
Good. I want you too.
[ to stay? want shiro in general? both perhaps. the echo of the earlier sentiment comes far too late, keith realizes, but maybe it's better late than never. keith takes in a deeo breath and lets it out with a heavy sigh. ]
... but maybe we could just do things our way. You know. When things feel right.
[ his fingers fumble the moment keith’s thigh touches his back. there’s clothing and blanket between them, but warmth seeps into him and he feels it, hot and solid against him. it leeches at his awareness until it nearly captures his focus in its entirety. still, he gets his fingers into semi-working order and manages to slip off his right boot. he’s just worked off the left when something grazes his side. fingers tighten this time and then he’s grasping hard at the boot as keith’s palm lies flat to his belly. his next breath is shallow, none of it seeping low to expand his abdomen further into that hand.
i want you too.
he hears to, not too. he doesn’t get any further than redundancy; thinking in terms of keith reiterating how he’d like shiro to stay the night. that is, until a sigh and a couple of words later, keith is clearly speaking of something else. it clicks and once again, his fingers go their own way; this time not fumbling, not tightening, but merely loosening in slow moving fragments, the boot losing stability bit by bit.
keith’s talking about the thing between them, isn’t he? why is it more frightening when it’s put into these terms? because… it has nothing to do with sentencing. that excuse is off the table. if they’re going at their own pace and dictating reactions based on what feels right for them, not by what the prison staff expects of them, then they’re doing this purely for themselves. that’s… not what shiro originally pitched it as to himself. is that what he truly wants? what about the emphasis on sentencing? what about getting out of here? what about the team? what about –
his fingers slack a movement too far and the boot slips free, hitting the floor with a thud. the noise knocks him out of his spiral and he blinks hard, staring down at his boots. he exhales slow and then, mustering movement, he lies his flesh hand over keith’s. he waffles between maybe and yes, and squeezes at the back of his hand. the longer he holds on, the further he leans into yes, only to topple into it completely when he twists, glancing over his shoulder at keith. this time, his breath is deep and his belly flutters under their combined hands, something in him losing stability at the sight of his best friend curled up close behind him. ]
Yeah. [ quiet, it’s more breath than word. his expression holds tense as he seemingly works through and comes to some sort of decision. in the next moment, he lets go of keith’s hand and he leans over, metal arm going to the bed on the other side of keith, to brace his weight. our way. when things feel right. it feels right to be close to keith right now and he nudge into his space, barricading him as shiro looks over the portion of his face he can see. ]
If we do this… it’s for us.
[ because they want it. not because these aliens have put them in a fucked up situation. it has to make sense for them, otherwise it isn’t worth the risk of muddling up their friendship. he brushes keith’s bangs with his other hand and holds them back against his head, revealing more of keith’s face for him. ]
[ having shiro hover over him, boxing him him with one arm and touching his face with the other should mean a lot of things. discomfort for starters, if only because letting someone in close has never been easy, even without the history of a clone with shiro's face trying to decapitate him. but the antsy feeling his adrenaline wash from earlier has morphed into something else entirely. see, the jittery pins and needles are still there, but where keith had wanted to get away from his best friend, now he wants to bask in the understanding they've forged together.
honestly? it feels nice. it feels like a big fuck you to their alien overlords to take what's been forced onto them and contextualize it into something that has more meaning than finishing what coercion started between them. keith's smile is a small thing, but it's earnest in its sincerity. whatever this is, he likes it. he likes the way shiro's hand feels against his, the warmth of shiro's skin under his palm. feeling a flutter behind his ribs, keith holds eye contact and repeats: ]
Only us.
[ heh. said like that though, it all comes across rather solemn, huh? self conscious, he scoots as far back as he can to give shiro more space to lie down, and holds up the blanket for him to crawl under it is tragically, not much space at all.. ]
Heh. Not that this helps with the sentence situation, but the warden and everyone else can go fuck themselves.
Edited 2022-06-18 00:38 (UTC)
the thread of the disappearing tablet and the changing outfits.
[ a little solemn, yeah and yet, hearing the sentiment repeated back to him is grounding. something slots into place and he feels – good? yes, good about where they are and where they are potentially headed. for the first time since arriving here, they seem to be in step with each other. that’s a big improvement. he’s not sure how long it’ll last, especially considering the fact that they will always be a little out of sync due to the disruption in the time continuum and how the two of them might not be from the same reality, but he’s willing to allow himself the reprieve and enjoy this while it lasts.
he shifts under the blanket, laughing softly to the… joke? half truth, half joke? that’s sobering, because no, not everyone. they still have their sentence sheets to figure out. whatever it is they’re exploring here doesn’t override their need to get out of this place and get back to voltron. he hesitates in clarifying dual objectives; selfishly, he doesn’t want to discuss it right now. he just wants to settle down and rest, rather than running the risk of upsetting this tentative agreement between them.
so he grins harder to one side and scoots in close. ]
Dunno about the others but the Warden probably does. [ a beat. ] Probably some sort of voyeur.
[ has to be! who comes up with these sentences and doesn’t get some sort of excitement, pleasure, pay off, whatever from getting alerts that inmates are performing? shiro wrinkles his nose, still grinning, but definitely regretting the suggestion. he shakes his head next and huffs, more or less ending that conversation by pushing right into: ]
But uh… like this or… this?
[ he hasn’t laid down yet. like this has him on his side, facing keith. it’s close, very close. the cot’s shoddy metal frame creaks as shiro flips around for this, now on his other side, back to keith. it’s keith’s bed, which is most comfortable for him? ]
shiro's magic powers: disapparing tablets, quic changing and blue balling
[ keith shudders bodily at the comment. the warden's specific proclivities aren't anything keith's given a lot of thought to and for good reason. place is creepy enough as it is without delving into the hands that went into taking this place from blueprint to functional interreality sex trafficking cesspool. nose wrinkling with distaste, keith doesn't get the chance to groan before shiro's mercifully moved on and changed the subject.
more than just that, actually. shiro scoots under the blanket and starts offering keith two very distracting choices between front and back, and keith blinks, inexplicably a little thrown despite this being the obvious next step in sharing the cot. maybe it's because having shiro trying to squeeze in beside him makes the issue of space that much plainer? face warming somewhat, keith shakes the thought that the cot hadn't seemed that cramped when shiro had been on top of ]
Oh um...either is fine?[ the question mark is readily audible. is it fine? ] Or I could turn around if you want as well?
if that pet sign event happens, shiro's title should be the blueballer
[ keith. that doesn’t help. it’s funny, to be honest. shiro’s usually the one making the executive decisions on a grand, sometimes universe-altering scale. so picking a sleeping position? should be a piece of cake compared to his usual calls.
somehow, it’s not.
lying on his back is out of the question. the cot is too narrow and he’s too wide in the shoulders; he’d end up taking up far too much of the real estate here and forcing keith even further into the wall. facing keith is… an attractive prospect, if he’s honest. it sounds cozy in his head, but he’s not convinced it would be in execution. curled up on the edge of the cot with his back to keith is likely the most polite position. it gives keith privacy and room. it’s the position he’s in currently and so, indecisive as he is, he hasn’t bothered to shift out of it. he only moves marginally, tipping his shoulder back so he can half lean into a glance behind himself to keith. ]
No. [ wait – no? that is to say: ] I mean… unless you want to sleep facing the wall?
[ a beat, the tentativeness leaving his voice as he pushes for a more assertive: ]
How do you normally sleep? I’ll conform to you.
[ afterall, he's not here to be a bother or make things more difficult. isn't he here to do the opposite? ]
[ compared to what they were deliberating over minutes earlier, this is nothing. they're being overly polite about this and despite recognizing the foolishness going on here, keith is so genuinely thrown by the question that he automatically answers it. ]
Uh... on my side, facing away from the exit with my knife under my pillow and the wolf at my back? [ speaking of which. ] Oh. I should put that away, huh?
[ looking sheepish yet again, keith sits up to pull the sheathed knife out from under his pillow and tosses it over the foot of the cot where it lands by the rest of his armor. ]
Thanks for reminding me. But uh... you can sleep in whatever way is most comfy for you? I mean... you're bigger so, I can conform to you if you want.
Edited 2022-06-18 19:30 (UTC)
imagine him having that sign and keith being like, holepuncher...? shiro: /sweats
[ there is so much to process here. keith’s detailed the wolf in typical keith fashion, so shiro has a semi clear idea of what he should be picturing. because he’s unoriginal, he mostly ends up with the american grey wolf nestled behind keith, eyeing anyone or anything that dares too close. he finds it… sweet? in a way? cute, maybe, if he ignores the fact that it’s a wild space predator. how domesticated can it actually be?
as domesticated as keith is? he makes a rough, amused sound in his throat as the knife is tossed. right, no wonder keith and the wolf got along so well.
he makes another sound, softer this time, more contemplative. they keep circling the same thing and getting nowhere because of it: i’ll do what you want. the accommodating nature is touching, yet frustrating, only in that they’re manufacturing this feeling of walking on eggshells. so, shiro abruptly gives up on it. ]
This is comfortable.
[ is it precisely what he wants? not exactly. he’s bordering the edge, knees of his bent legs edging off if it. still not the most uncomfortable sleep he’ll have ever had, if he sleeps. he wonders if he should tell keith that he has trouble sleeping and doesn’t often go without waking or having a fit of bad dreams. no. he can see how that conversation would go and he doesn’t want to drag the mood down again, this time with a pity party. so he shoves his hand underneath the pillow and firms it up as he nestles his head fully into it. ]
[ ah, so that's shiro's final decision. keith peels himself a little further off the wall, not quite relaxing as he eyes the inch or so of space between his chest and shiro's back. it crosses his mind for the umpteenth time that maybe asking shiro to sleep with him had been a mistake, if only because this way neither of them are getting their preferred sleeping position or amount of room, but shiro had said he wanted to stay so there's little use to second guessing a closed deal.
keith scoots himself a little lower in the bed, head hovering just above the freshly fluffed pillow. he holds the uncomfortable position for two ticks, contemplating his close up of shiro's undercut like that might give him privileged access to mindreading abilifies. he might as well be trying to reach keysmash for all the good this accomplishes.
he drops his head down and pulls the covers up his chin. again, he wants to ask a redundant question about shiro's comfort, but manages to jeep his mouth zipped. instead, his gaze drops back down to the inch of space left between them, tries to calculate how close to the edge shiro must be and decides -- fuck it.
he throws an arm over shiro's waist, tugging to draw him back further onto the cot and closer to him. ]
Come closer. There's room.
[ a beat. ]
... and tell me how you're doing here. For real, I mean, Not the sugarcoated "I'm fine" stoic leader crap.
[ it’s the second time keith’s done it in the span of minutes; shiro ought to be more prepared in adjusting to it. he’s not, of course. he tenses at the weight thrown over his side and sucks in his belly with the surprised inhale, holding still even as keith tightens his elbow to coax shiro to scoot backwards. it feels nice though, just as it had the first time keith curled up behind him. this’ll be different, he muses. it won’t be a thigh to his back, it’ll be hips, belly and chest. he might even have keith’s breath tickling the flyaway strands at his nape if he’s lucky. if he’s lucky? he bites his lip and contracts, just beginning to push back, only to stop before any actual progress.
ah. taking full advantage of shiro’s lowered defenses, huh? he pauses, frown pinching his brow. a touch grumbly: ]
It’s not stoic leader crap. I mean it. [ a few words in and the frown loses strength, self-awareness pinging as he hears himself. horseshit, right? a little more sheepishly now: ] Mostly.
[ a pause follows, but only in speech. he sighs out afterwards and in lieu of admitting the, frankly, untruthfulness there, he offers an olive branch in the form of him scooting backward. their bodies brush and then press when shiro takes another inch with one last scooch. there, he settles. adjusting his hand under the pillow and resnuggling the side of his face into it, shiro relaxes, marginally and slowly, exhaling a heavy breath before picking up where he should have begun. ]
Just… [ he wavers, hesitating. ] I didn’t think I’d be a prisoner again.
[ it’s an answer, yet not one. how is he doing; he can’t answer it directly. he doesn’t want to. he doesn’t want to openly admit that despite his push to cooperate and make due with the situation they’ve found themselves in, he isn’t actually as put together as he’s trying to present himself as. everyone on the team is having such a hard time, someone has to be the anchor.
but this is keith. and faking it around keith never seems to last. ]
Feels like I just escaped the last time. [ he laughs softly at that, the sound hollow. ] I know things are better here than they were with the Galra but… you know…
[ and he trails off, not knowing how to put it into words. ]
[ keith grimaces through the initial jut of stubbornness, but nothing more. he keeps the tension on his elbow just the same, coaxing shiro to scooch back until gradually their boeis line up back to chest, chest to back. it's at this point keith supposes he ought to be removing his arm, but upon hearing what shiro has to say, that extra bit of touch quickly becomes an anchoring point, tethering the two of them together.
shiro's never said much about his time in captivity with the galra. in some ways, maybe he never had to. if a picture is worth a thousand words, then the many scars on criss crossed on his best friend's body are an entire unspoken odyseey of self-explanatory horror. thinking about it, it's messed up isn't it? keith and shiro haven't had the chance to properly decompress what happened that year, and now somewhere back in his own reality, that may never happen just on account of the trauma of the clone's existence. and maybe even that will just pass on along as yet another unspoken horror simply because the war is unending and who knows what the next bit of psychologixal damage will be?
it's an impotent wish at best, but keith hopes that whatever it is, the universe is done chewing on shiro and will finally cut him a break.
but maybe it never will. from galra prison to porn prison, shiro really does have the most messed up shit happen to him, huh? lost for words, keith unconsciously tightens his grip around his best friend's waist, forehead bumping lightly against the back of his head. ]
I'm sorry. [ the response is just about the lamest thing in the world and keith grimaces yet again for the fucking platitude. ] I wish the universe could have sent you somewhere nice for a change. I can't think of anyone who deserves to be relaxing on a beach more than you.
[ keith laughs, quiet and a little bitter. ]
...I just want you to know that you can talk to me. If there's anything I can do to make this place even a little less terrible for you, you know I'd do it in a heartbeat. Whether that's us talking or me finding you something to punch ...or you know. Helping with sheets.
[ voice going quiet, keith trails off and swallows. ]
[ see? this is what shiro wanted to avoid. pity party. shiro came here to comfort keith and what has he done? upset him first and then after narrowly patching that up, has somehow turned the tables to guilt keith into coddling him instead. some leader, huh? some best friend, huh? miserably, shiro closes his eyes, yet doesn’t interrupt. he listens and he stews, ignoring the heavy beat, beat of his heart resounding in his ears that’s still, mercilessly, not loud enough to drown out the sorrow in keith’s voice.
he hates this. he’s been telling himself from the beginning that this prison is easier. better. freewill is similarly stripped but there’s some leeway in their ability to live. the food is a wildcard and the occasional prison wide hijinx stirs the pot, but aside from that, they get to choose the who, the what, the where and the when in accordance to their community service. a few one night stands isn’t so bad, not when shiro’s lived through a sentence that’s involved murder and experimentation.
but it’s starting to wear on him, especially when he thinks too heavily about the team. he doesn’t want this for them. if he could, he’d take on their sheets and have them sent back to their own realities.
… at least, that’s what he tells himself.
he’s not supposed to be comforted by everything keith is saying. it’s not far off from shiro’s own pep-talks: we’re a team, we stick together, come to me if anyone or anything gives you trouble. he’s supposed to be stronger than needing to hear it directed at him. it touches deep though, every word’s weight is aided by the forehead against him and the arm around him. shiro feels – grounded. secure, almost, like it’d actually be okay to not be okay, because keith has him.
so would he actually take on keith’s sentence and have him sent away if given the chance? the answer isn’t as clear as it had been a month ago. all at once, the thought rips that feeling of stability out from under him and to compensate, he grabs with his left at keith’s hand. he squeezes it there at his belly, holding tighter, eyes still closed and teeth chewing at his bottom lip.
okay, is his line. that’s all he has to say and then maybe he can divert to a goodnight that’ll end any further discussion. but his voice whispers low: ]
Will you think less of me if I say I’m glad you’re here?
[ because shiro thinks less of himself. it feels selfish. feels gross. he hates that keith is here, being forced into vulnerable moments… but a part of shiro is grateful too. keith being here makes this place a little less terrible. ]
[ keith can't and doesn't pretend to know the ins and outs of his best friend's state of mind. there's always been selective topics that have been banned from discourse for one reason or another, but given just a tiny peek into shiro's headspace, it always feels he carries a disproportionate amount of baggage.
it's been years now, but keith still vividly remembers the day he'd learned about shiro's muscular dystrophy years after the fact of them spending all that time together racing in the desert when shiro could have and probably should have been resting aching muscles. heh. shiro's never really been the sort to open up at all -- not about anything that truly weighs him down. it's messed up to find even a pinprick of comfort in this shiro being every bit as stubborn about himself, but the fact of the matter is that this moment here with his best friend covering up his hand and talking earnestly makes keith happier than he knows what to do with.
his own head clear of the angry buzzing from earlier, keith actually manages a laugh -- a soft, airy thing that tickles the back of shiro's ear. ]
Heh. Doubt there's much you could do to get me to think less of you, Shiro.
[ for better or for worse. even when keith had been convinced the clone was the real shiro and that the real shiro had been trying to kill him, he still earnestly believed in shiro. he wonders though, if something like that is more burden than comfort to hear. keith shifts a little lower, nose pressed to shiro's neck, his lips less than an inch away from touching skin. ]
You have no idea how glad I am you're here, too.
[ and no idea just to what lengths keith would go to follow shiro wherever it is. whether that happens to be porn prison or off the edge of a collapsing platform into oblivion. ]
Even if I still think you should be on a nice beach with a pina colada.
[ it isn’t a fair question to begin with. aside from a blip here or there, keith’s favor toward him tends to run steady. this last argument ran far closer to ruin than shiro would have ever anticipated for them, but fifteen minutes spent and some close contact later, the ties between them are once again stable and strong. so keith was never going to answer that in a negative light. shiro was always going to get a pass. does it make shiro feel better to hear it? the first part, no. shiro has a lot of things buried. a lot of things that don’t fit into the golden boy image or even the strong, do good leader persona he’s adopted through voltron. his record isn’t clean and neither are his thoughts; if keith knew the actual person shiro’s become, he’d find reasons to think less of him.
funnily enough, he doesn’t judge keith for saying the exact same thing shiro has been berating himself over: keith’s glad he’s here too. it surprises him, not so much the sentiment itself, but the fact that keith says them. if he’s not judgemental of keith… he can't be judgmental of himself, can he? that’s the reasoning. it’s difficult to argue against it, especially when his focus keeps drifting to the nose pressed against his nape and breath fanning across. if they’re selfish and needy when it comes to each other, is it okay? does it balance out?
he’s on the fence, still stubbornly unwilling to let himself be comforted to some sort of conclusion but then there’s that last bit that’s disjointed from the seriousness of the rest. it pushes shiro right off that fence and before he knows it, he’s huffing an amused sound and knocking back his foot, pushing it between the lay of keith’s legs in some sort of retaliation for making him laugh. ]
There is a beach here.
[ a crappy one that may or may not have actual sea monsters waiting offshore. relaxing his hold on keith’s hand, he draws his up, skimming along keith’s wrist and forearm, ending a few inches shy of his elbow as shiro twists marginally, not quite turning to toss a glance over his shoulder to keith. he merely turns his head, looking to the ceiling, but with the angle, his voice carries more clearly. ]
Maybe Dietary has the fixings for piña coladas. We can snatch those too when we get the enchiladas tomorrow.
[ it's really only after shiro laughs that some internal pressure valve gets fully released. keith relaxes further, grinning broadly to himself as he raises his top leg and swings it over shiro's knee to loosely pin the offending foot. it all continues to be a strange mix of familiar and uncharted territory, really. wrestling and physical training have alwyas been a part of their friendship, but keith can't say that he's ever had his lips so close to shiro's cheek. somehow the proximity didn't register quite as strongly when he'd been staring down the back of his best friend's face, but with shiro partly angled towards him, keith misses a beat and holds his breath.
suddenly drinks on the beach and enchiladas are the last things on keith's mimd, but he swallows and tries to get back into the established momentum of conversation. ]
Oh...
[ okay so maybe attempt #1 falls flat on its face. attempt #2 goes marginally better. ]
... I hope so. It'd be nice to just hang out. We haven't done that in... [ a good while, huh? ] ... well since you got here. [ a beat. hanging out with shiro and pretending to have some degree of freedom isn't remotely like the high intensity chases out in the desert where they truly were just wild and free, but all the same.... ] ...I'd really like that.
[ since he got here doesn’t sound right either. they haven’t done anything worthy of being called fun, at least not with each other. so when was the last time they hung out? voltron? the garrison? shiro throws the title of best friend around like it’s a universally accepted norm, but if he stops to think about it, does that title truly belong to him? best friends actually do things together; things that don’t happen purely out of obligation, that is.
it’s a miserable thought. it carries all the potential to drag shiro’s mood down. all he has to do is let it. though, what good would that do other than further proving he’s undeserving of being keith’s closest friend? focusing on that, shiro forcibly clings tight to the happy uptick in conversation and continues to run with it. ]
I would too. [ a pause. a playfully firm: ] So that’s what we’ll do.
[ enchiladas and piña coladas… neither are meant to be taken seriously and yet, here shiro is, onboard and willing to try their luck in pilfering dietary. so much for play by the rules, don’t get in trouble, huh? the risk of getting a slap on the wrist is worth it if it means giving shiro a distinctive timeframe in which he can point to and say that is the last time he and keith did something fun together. ]
By the way… [ since he has a leg draped over him now, pinning his foot, shiro will retaliate by abducting his knee to jostle keith’s leg. he laughs gently. ] I hope you know how to make enchiladas, because I don’t.
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sir.
shiro huffs a soft, amused sound. of all things to call him… – he shakes his head, smile tugging harder to one side and plumping that cheek round. ]
Now… [ he grabs the edge of the blanket and pulls it over keith, lying it high, right around his collarbones. ]
We tuck.
[ leaning over keith and with one one hand on each side, shiro bunches material underneath keith with hard shoves of his fingers, outlining the shape of keith’s arms from shoulders to mid-forearms. all the while saying: ]
And we burrito. [ though, this isn’t much of a burrito, is it? he can’t exactly roll keith into the blanket. so, he’ll laugh and amend: ] Or I guess this would be better called enchiladaing.
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even more depressing when you consider porn prison is the first "break" they've gotten from dealing with existential, nihilistic threats to the cosmos.
the thoughts should really be more bothersome, and yet as soon as shiro starts digging his fingers in to smoosh as much blanket under his body, keith and rolls his eyes affectionately. ]
Now you're just making me hungry, Shiro.
[ how long has it been since he's stuffed an enchilada in his mouth anyway? yet another thought best not had at all. ]
You're supposed to make me want to stay in bed, not entertain thoughts of slipping into dietary.
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the question has hardly formed and certainly hasn’t been answered by the time he shifts his gaze to keith’s face. seeing the affection there eases that sudden bit of tension and then he’s piggybacking on the joke, clicking his tongue. ]
Hey, no.
[ blanket abandoned, shiro’s got two free hands; look out. he’ll only be using one though, his left, to push his palm flat to the top of keith’s head and fan his fingers out to tangle and ruffle keith’s hair to oblivion. ]
Get those thoughts outta your head.
[ he gives keith’s hair another two ticks of destruction, just to thoroughly pulverize the thought out of his brain, before he relaxes and lets go. he’s grinning wide and shittily by the end of it, voice light. ]
We can pilfer dietary tomorrow. Sleep now.
1/3
but of course, it's never gonna be that simple ever again, huh? keith grins up, happy and yet feeling caught on some precipice. maybe the truth of it is that he doesn't want things to go back to the way they used to be. it's a daunting thought, but having shiro hover above him smiling down feels right in ways that are part mortifying and yet ... soothing?
he relaxes, shaking his head to let his bangs fall more naturally across his face. ]
You'll sleep with me, yeah?
2/3
I --uh.. [fuck. eyes wide, keith chokes on air, stammering through the sudden acceleration of his heart. ] Sleeping literally, I mean. You know. Like we both close our eyes and just do the normal falling asleep thing. Just.. together.
[< a beat.]
In the same cot. Even though it'll be kind of cramped and ....
3;3
..... I'm just going to stop talking.
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champion, leader of voltron. he’s accomplished and he’s proud; he’s done a lot more than a pubescent diagnosis initially prescribed for his future. right up there with all of that though? he counts stubborning his way past keith’s spiky, no entry, back the fuck off walls as a pretty impressive victory as well. right here, right now, he feelsblessed... lucky. he isn’t so narcissistic to believe he’s the only one who ever gets to see keith open and vulnerable, but there is something rare about keith stripped down to the soft aspects of himself, completely unapologetic in his happiness as he grins and laughs and –blurts out unfiltered questions.
shiro has just begun retucking the loosened edges of the blanket back underneath keith’s shoulders when the question comes. he pauses mid tuck and glances to keith’s face, curiosity furrowing his brow. it’s keith’s reaction that does him in. shiro feeds off of it immediately. keith’s all wide eyes, choked sounds and stammering words, and it’s impossible for shiro to not have his own heart kick up in its beats, face growing warm with every added explanation.
it should be working the opposite way, shouldn’t it? obviously keith hadn’t meant it that way, so why is everyone flustering here? because, the fact that it needs to be explained at all is telling in its own way. against all rhyme and reason, shiro’s mind drifts to the more perverse interpretation and – no. nope. that’s what got them into the whole mess from earlier. ]
I…
[ it’s a mistake. he should never start talking before he’s thought it through. he catches himself, but the one word hangs heavy between them, accompanied by shiro’s surprised, wide eyes and pinker cheeks. at least keith is too busy trying to hide to analyze whatever the hell it is shiro’s face is doing. though, keith hiding sobers him slightly and then he’s thinking, no, he doesn’t want keith’s happiness swallowed up by this. he misses that grin and that laugh already.
so, he holds the stare a beat longer and then exhales. ] Heh. [ he finally withdraws his hands, though one stays behind to playfully flick at keith’s ear. ] After all my hard work too. I think you just want an excuse to be de-encaladaed.
[ perhaps he’s trying too hard to smooth this over with a joke. but it’s the best he can manage in the immediate aftermath. he needs another fill of his lungs to gather himself – and to commit himself to the decision – but then he’s softening his voice and bleeding it dry of the teasing notes. ]
But okay. I can stay… if that’s what you want.
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heart thumping loud in his chest, he actually twitches when there's a flick at his ear, reflex making keith stop trying to hide to look before he's ready. he misses an obvious beat when shiro leads with an unexpected joke. the expected chastising for nonadherence to the normal bounds of their friendship either, despite shiro's earlier conclusion about wanting to stay as they are.
keith swallows, still a touch too nervous to relax entirely. words feel a little stuck in his throat, but he manages to speak in barely louder than whisper tones. ]
I want you to stay. But only if that's what you want too.
[ or maybe that's redundant? i wanted you too. stil do. shiro is full of contradictory sentiments and keith just can't fucking tell which ones are the ones shiro wants respected. even now trying to unpack it just makes him feel .. lost. he looks up, face still half smooshed into the pillow, one eye peeking through his bangs, waiting. ]
I don't... want you to stay if you feel obligated to.
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at this point, the least shiro can do is be honest. that’s what keith desperately wants from him. so he backs off. he gives up on his hovering and straightens up, regarding half-hidden keith for one, weighed moment. ]
I want to stay.
[ there’s confidence in the words; true genuinity that doesn’t leave much room for doubt. he knows he’s been confusing tonight, saying one thing, saying another, and then backtracking to the original offer, yet giving no concrete conclusion to any of it. in a perfect world, he’d pick for them to remain as they’ve always been: best friends. that’s easy and that’s familiar and it works. he’s beginning to realize though, that he can’t simply enforce his will on their friendship. there’s something brewing between them and the more shiro tries to ignore it, the worse off they become.
he can do this. he can try. it’s simple, yet tentatively intimate, and beneath all the worry and uncertainty, he does actually yearn for that closeness with keith. so, with that, shiro says nothing else and turns to action instead. he means it, honest, because look, he’s unzipping his vest and shrugging it off to toss toward the end of the cot, before sitting down to start unbuckling his boots. ]
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not for the first time, keith is a little lost for words. as much as it'd been hurtful to immediately be accused of diminishing shiro's importance, it's in thinking about words-action incongruity that he thinks maybe he can understand why shiro had been upset in the first place. mulling the thought over from that perspective, keith's expression falters,. he's glad that for the moment shiro can't see his face, and decides he wants it to stay that way just a little bit longer.
he rolls towards shiro, one arm raised taised to curl around shiro's waist from behind in a loose embrace. from there, his movements are tentative, but he presses his palm flat to shiro's belly and breathes out quietly; ]
Good. I want you too.
[ to stay? want shiro in general? both perhaps. the echo of the earlier sentiment comes far too late, keith realizes, but maybe it's better late than never. keith takes in a deeo breath and lets it out with a heavy sigh. ]
... but maybe we could just do things our way. You know. When things feel right.
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i want you too.
he hears to, not too. he doesn’t get any further than redundancy; thinking in terms of keith reiterating how he’d like shiro to stay the night. that is, until a sigh and a couple of words later, keith is clearly speaking of something else. it clicks and once again, his fingers go their own way; this time not fumbling, not tightening, but merely loosening in slow moving fragments, the boot losing stability bit by bit.
keith’s talking about the thing between them, isn’t he? why is it more frightening when it’s put into these terms? because… it has nothing to do with sentencing. that excuse is off the table. if they’re going at their own pace and dictating reactions based on what feels right for them, not by what the prison staff expects of them, then they’re doing this purely for themselves. that’s… not what shiro originally pitched it as to himself. is that what he truly wants? what about the emphasis on sentencing? what about getting out of here? what about the team? what about –
his fingers slack a movement too far and the boot slips free, hitting the floor with a thud. the noise knocks him out of his spiral and he blinks hard, staring down at his boots. he exhales slow and then, mustering movement, he lies his flesh hand over keith’s. he waffles between maybe and yes, and squeezes at the back of his hand. the longer he holds on, the further he leans into yes, only to topple into it completely when he twists, glancing over his shoulder at keith. this time, his breath is deep and his belly flutters under their combined hands, something in him losing stability at the sight of his best friend curled up close behind him. ]
Yeah. [ quiet, it’s more breath than word. his expression holds tense as he seemingly works through and comes to some sort of decision. in the next moment, he lets go of keith’s hand and he leans over, metal arm going to the bed on the other side of keith, to brace his weight. our way. when things feel right. it feels right to be close to keith right now and he nudge into his space, barricading him as shiro looks over the portion of his face he can see. ]
If we do this… it’s for us.
[ because they want it. not because these aliens have put them in a fucked up situation. it has to make sense for them, otherwise it isn’t worth the risk of muddling up their friendship. he brushes keith’s bangs with his other hand and holds them back against his head, revealing more of keith’s face for him. ]
Only us.
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honestly? it feels nice. it feels like a big fuck you to their alien overlords to take what's been forced onto them and contextualize it into something that has more meaning than finishing what coercion started between them. keith's smile is a small thing, but it's earnest in its sincerity. whatever this is, he likes it. he likes the way shiro's hand feels against his, the warmth of shiro's skin under his palm. feeling a flutter behind his ribs, keith holds eye contact and repeats: ]
Only us.
[ heh. said like that though, it all comes across rather solemn, huh? self conscious, he scoots as far back as he can to give shiro more space to lie down, and holds up the blanket for him to crawl under it is tragically, not much space at all.. ]
Heh. Not that this helps with the sentence situation, but the warden and everyone else can go fuck themselves.
the thread of the disappearing tablet and the changing outfits.
he shifts under the blanket, laughing softly to the… joke? half truth, half joke? that’s sobering, because no, not everyone. they still have their sentence sheets to figure out. whatever it is they’re exploring here doesn’t override their need to get out of this place and get back to voltron. he hesitates in clarifying dual objectives; selfishly, he doesn’t want to discuss it right now. he just wants to settle down and rest, rather than running the risk of upsetting this tentative agreement between them.
so he grins harder to one side and scoots in close. ]
Dunno about the others but the Warden probably does. [ a beat. ] Probably some sort of voyeur.
[ has to be! who comes up with these sentences and doesn’t get some sort of excitement, pleasure, pay off, whatever from getting alerts that inmates are performing? shiro wrinkles his nose, still grinning, but definitely regretting the suggestion. he shakes his head next and huffs, more or less ending that conversation by pushing right into: ]
But uh… like this or… this?
[ he hasn’t laid down yet. like this has him on his side, facing keith. it’s close, very close. the cot’s shoddy metal frame creaks as shiro flips around for this, now on his other side, back to keith. it’s keith’s bed, which is most comfortable for him? ]
shiro's magic powers: disapparing tablets, quic changing and blue balling
more than just that, actually. shiro scoots under the blanket and starts offering keith two very distracting choices between front and back, and keith blinks, inexplicably a little thrown despite this being the obvious next step in sharing the cot. maybe it's because having shiro trying to squeeze in beside him makes the issue of space that much plainer? face warming somewhat, keith shakes the thought that the cot hadn't seemed that cramped when shiro had been on top of ]
Oh um...either is fine?[ the question mark is readily audible. is it fine? ] Or I could turn around if you want as well?
if that pet sign event happens, shiro's title should be the blueballer
somehow, it’s not.
lying on his back is out of the question. the cot is too narrow and he’s too wide in the shoulders; he’d end up taking up far too much of the real estate here and forcing keith even further into the wall. facing keith is… an attractive prospect, if he’s honest. it sounds cozy in his head, but he’s not convinced it would be in execution. curled up on the edge of the cot with his back to keith is likely the most polite position. it gives keith privacy and room. it’s the position he’s in currently and so, indecisive as he is, he hasn’t bothered to shift out of it. he only moves marginally, tipping his shoulder back so he can half lean into a glance behind himself to keith. ]
No. [ wait – no? that is to say: ] I mean… unless you want to sleep facing the wall?
[ a beat, the tentativeness leaving his voice as he pushes for a more assertive: ]
How do you normally sleep? I’ll conform to you.
[ afterall, he's not here to be a bother or make things more difficult. isn't he here to do the opposite? ]
nah he's the holepuncher
Uh... on my side, facing away from the exit with my knife under my pillow and the wolf at my back?
[ speaking of which. ] Oh. I should put that away, huh?
[ looking sheepish yet again, keith sits up to pull the sheathed knife out from under his pillow and tosses it over the foot of the cot where it lands by the rest of his armor. ]
Thanks for reminding me. But uh... you can sleep in whatever way is most comfy for you? I mean... you're bigger so, I can conform to you if you want.
imagine him having that sign and keith being like, holepuncher...? shiro: /sweats
as domesticated as keith is? he makes a rough, amused sound in his throat as the knife is tossed. right, no wonder keith and the wolf got along so well.
he makes another sound, softer this time, more contemplative. they keep circling the same thing and getting nowhere because of it: i’ll do what you want. the accommodating nature is touching, yet frustrating, only in that they’re manufacturing this feeling of walking on eggshells. so, shiro abruptly gives up on it. ]
This is comfortable.
[ is it precisely what he wants? not exactly. he’s bordering the edge, knees of his bent legs edging off if it. still not the most uncomfortable sleep he’ll have ever had, if he sleeps. he wonders if he should tell keith that he has trouble sleeping and doesn’t often go without waking or having a fit of bad dreams. no. he can see how that conversation would go and he doesn’t want to drag the mood down again, this time with a pity party. so he shoves his hand underneath the pillow and firms it up as he nestles his head fully into it. ]
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keith scoots himself a little lower in the bed, head hovering just above the freshly fluffed pillow. he holds the uncomfortable position for two ticks, contemplating his close up of shiro's undercut like that might give him privileged access to mindreading abilifies. he might as well be trying to reach keysmash for all the good this accomplishes.
he drops his head down and pulls the covers up his chin. again, he wants to ask a redundant question about shiro's comfort, but manages to jeep his mouth zipped. instead, his gaze drops back down to the inch of space left between them, tries to calculate how close to the edge shiro must be and decides -- fuck it.
he throws an arm over shiro's waist, tugging to draw him back further onto the cot and closer to him. ]
Come closer. There's room.
[ a beat. ]
... and tell me how you're doing here. For real, I mean, Not the sugarcoated "I'm fine" stoic leader crap.
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ah. taking full advantage of shiro’s lowered defenses, huh? he pauses, frown pinching his brow. a touch grumbly: ]
It’s not stoic leader crap. I mean it. [ a few words in and the frown loses strength, self-awareness pinging as he hears himself. horseshit, right? a little more sheepishly now: ] Mostly.
[ a pause follows, but only in speech. he sighs out afterwards and in lieu of admitting the, frankly, untruthfulness there, he offers an olive branch in the form of him scooting backward. their bodies brush and then press when shiro takes another inch with one last scooch. there, he settles. adjusting his hand under the pillow and resnuggling the side of his face into it, shiro relaxes, marginally and slowly, exhaling a heavy breath before picking up where he should have begun. ]
Just… [ he wavers, hesitating. ] I didn’t think I’d be a prisoner again.
[ it’s an answer, yet not one. how is he doing; he can’t answer it directly. he doesn’t want to. he doesn’t want to openly admit that despite his push to cooperate and make due with the situation they’ve found themselves in, he isn’t actually as put together as he’s trying to present himself as. everyone on the team is having such a hard time, someone has to be the anchor.
but this is keith. and faking it around keith never seems to last. ]
Feels like I just escaped the last time. [ he laughs softly at that, the sound hollow. ] I know things are better here than they were with the Galra but… you know…
[ and he trails off, not knowing how to put it into words. ]
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shiro's never said much about his time in captivity with the galra. in some ways, maybe he never had to. if a picture is worth a thousand words, then the many scars on criss crossed on his best friend's body are an entire unspoken odyseey of self-explanatory horror. thinking about it, it's messed up isn't it? keith and shiro haven't had the chance to properly decompress what happened that year, and now somewhere back in his own reality, that may never happen just on account of the trauma of the clone's existence. and maybe even that will just pass on along as yet another unspoken horror simply because the war is unending and who knows what the next bit of psychologixal damage will be?
it's an impotent wish at best, but keith hopes that whatever it is, the universe is done chewing on shiro and will finally cut him a break.
but maybe it never will. from galra prison to porn prison, shiro really does have the most messed up shit happen to him, huh? lost for words, keith unconsciously tightens his grip around his best friend's waist, forehead bumping lightly against the back of his head. ]
I'm sorry. [ the response is just about the lamest thing in the world and keith grimaces yet again for the fucking platitude. ] I wish the universe could have sent you somewhere nice for a change. I can't think of anyone who deserves to be relaxing on a beach more than you.
[ keith laughs, quiet and a little bitter. ]
...I just want you to know that you can talk to me. If there's anything I can do to make this place even a little less terrible for you, you know I'd do it in a heartbeat. Whether that's us talking or me finding you something to punch ...or you know. Helping with sheets.
[ voice going quiet, keith trails off and swallows. ]
We're in this together, okay?
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he hates this. he’s been telling himself from the beginning that this prison is easier. better. freewill is similarly stripped but there’s some leeway in their ability to live. the food is a wildcard and the occasional prison wide hijinx stirs the pot, but aside from that, they get to choose the who, the what, the where and the when in accordance to their community service. a few one night stands isn’t so bad, not when shiro’s lived through a sentence that’s involved murder and experimentation.
but it’s starting to wear on him, especially when he thinks too heavily about the team. he doesn’t want this for them. if he could, he’d take on their sheets and have them sent back to their own realities.
… at least, that’s what he tells himself.
he’s not supposed to be comforted by everything keith is saying. it’s not far off from shiro’s own pep-talks: we’re a team, we stick together, come to me if anyone or anything gives you trouble. he’s supposed to be stronger than needing to hear it directed at him. it touches deep though, every word’s weight is aided by the forehead against him and the arm around him. shiro feels – grounded. secure, almost, like it’d actually be okay to not be okay, because keith has him.
so would he actually take on keith’s sentence and have him sent away if given the chance? the answer isn’t as clear as it had been a month ago. all at once, the thought rips that feeling of stability out from under him and to compensate, he grabs with his left at keith’s hand. he squeezes it there at his belly, holding tighter, eyes still closed and teeth chewing at his bottom lip.
okay, is his line. that’s all he has to say and then maybe he can divert to a goodnight that’ll end any further discussion. but his voice whispers low: ]
Will you think less of me if I say I’m glad you’re here?
[ because shiro thinks less of himself. it feels selfish. feels gross. he hates that keith is here, being forced into vulnerable moments… but a part of shiro is grateful too. keith being here makes this place a little less terrible. ]
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it's been years now, but keith still vividly remembers the day he'd learned about shiro's muscular dystrophy years after the fact of them spending all that time together racing in the desert when shiro could have and probably should have been resting aching muscles. heh. shiro's never really been the sort to open up at all -- not about anything that truly weighs him down. it's messed up to find even a pinprick of comfort in this shiro being every bit as stubborn about himself, but the fact of the matter is that this moment here with his best friend covering up his hand and talking earnestly makes keith happier than he knows what to do with.
his own head clear of the angry buzzing from earlier, keith actually manages a laugh -- a soft, airy thing that tickles the back of shiro's ear. ]
Heh. Doubt there's much you could do to get me to think less of you, Shiro.
[ for better or for worse. even when keith had been convinced the clone was the real shiro and that the real shiro had been trying to kill him, he still earnestly believed in shiro. he wonders though, if something like that is more burden than comfort to hear. keith shifts a little lower, nose pressed to shiro's neck, his lips less than an inch away from touching skin. ]
You have no idea how glad I am you're here, too.
[ and no idea just to what lengths keith would go to follow shiro wherever it is. whether that happens to be porn prison or off the edge of a collapsing platform into oblivion. ]
Even if I still think you should be on a nice beach with a pina colada.
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funnily enough, he doesn’t judge keith for saying the exact same thing shiro has been berating himself over: keith’s glad he’s here too. it surprises him, not so much the sentiment itself, but the fact that keith says them. if he’s not judgemental of keith… he can't be judgmental of himself, can he? that’s the reasoning. it’s difficult to argue against it, especially when his focus keeps drifting to the nose pressed against his nape and breath fanning across. if they’re selfish and needy when it comes to each other, is it okay? does it balance out?
he’s on the fence, still stubbornly unwilling to let himself be comforted to some sort of conclusion but then there’s that last bit that’s disjointed from the seriousness of the rest. it pushes shiro right off that fence and before he knows it, he’s huffing an amused sound and knocking back his foot, pushing it between the lay of keith’s legs in some sort of retaliation for making him laugh. ]
There is a beach here.
[ a crappy one that may or may not have actual sea monsters waiting offshore. relaxing his hold on keith’s hand, he draws his up, skimming along keith’s wrist and forearm, ending a few inches shy of his elbow as shiro twists marginally, not quite turning to toss a glance over his shoulder to keith. he merely turns his head, looking to the ceiling, but with the angle, his voice carries more clearly. ]
Maybe Dietary has the fixings for piña coladas. We can snatch those too when we get the enchiladas tomorrow.
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suddenly drinks on the beach and enchiladas are the last things on keith's mimd, but he swallows and tries to get back into the established momentum of conversation. ]
Oh...
[ okay so maybe attempt #1 falls flat on its face. attempt #2 goes marginally better. ]
... I hope so. It'd be nice to just hang out. We haven't done that in... [ a good while, huh? ] ... well since you got here. [ a beat. hanging out with shiro and pretending to have some degree of freedom isn't remotely like the high intensity chases out in the desert where they truly were just wild and free, but all the same.... ] ...I'd really like that.
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it’s a miserable thought. it carries all the potential to drag shiro’s mood down. all he has to do is let it. though, what good would that do other than further proving he’s undeserving of being keith’s closest friend? focusing on that, shiro forcibly clings tight to the happy uptick in conversation and continues to run with it. ]
I would too. [ a pause. a playfully firm: ] So that’s what we’ll do.
[ enchiladas and piña coladas… neither are meant to be taken seriously and yet, here shiro is, onboard and willing to try their luck in pilfering dietary. so much for play by the rules, don’t get in trouble, huh? the risk of getting a slap on the wrist is worth it if it means giving shiro a distinctive timeframe in which he can point to and say that is the last time he and keith did something fun together. ]
By the way… [ since he has a leg draped over him now, pinning his foot, shiro will retaliate by abducting his knee to jostle keith’s leg. he laughs gently. ] I hope you know how to make enchiladas, because I don’t.
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the icon is a lie
omg you lied to me