[ the helmet muffles the voice and yet, even muffled, that voice is distinct enough that by finally, shiro, too, finally has realization dawning. the name of their babies clinches it. surprise slacked features neutralize his expression and he’s staring for a prolonged beat, stock still and unmoving. perhaps he should simply stay frozen. if he doesn’t flip back that visor, he doesn’t have to confirm that he has, in fact, been chasing after his best friend turned lover for the better part of a year and relaying play by plays of each run-in to said boyfriend, completely unaware that keith already knew all of it. no wonder he always looked particularly amused any time shiro spoke of being outwitted by the second best driver shiro’s ever seen.
predictably, curiosity wins. without a word, he reaches up to push back the visor and despite the dimness of the room or the partly obscured face, shiro would recognize those eyes anywhere.
heh. so he is into criminals. or at least, one criminal. ]
Keith.
[ one syllable and it’s chalk full of long-suffering exasperation. one beat, two beat, and he’s staring, staring –
and then he flips the visor back down, tipping his head up and rolling his eyes toward the ceiling. ]
You are such a brat.
[ no heat behind the words. if anything, they’re begrudgingly fond, underneath that continued exasperation. ]
no subject
predictably, curiosity wins. without a word, he reaches up to push back the visor and despite the dimness of the room or the partly obscured face, shiro would recognize those eyes anywhere.
heh. so he is into criminals. or at least, one criminal. ]
Keith.
[ one syllable and it’s chalk full of long-suffering exasperation. one beat, two beat, and he’s staring, staring –
and then he flips the visor back down, tipping his head up and rolling his eyes toward the ceiling. ]
You are such a brat.
[ no heat behind the words. if anything, they’re begrudgingly fond, underneath that continued exasperation. ]