[ he’s serious too. didn’t this whole argument start because shiro was taking everything too seriously? maybe forced levity is the answer. misplaced humor is his coping of choice and here, he wants to set the groundwork for a fire-back grin and a conspicuously sly quip. they’ll tease, then they’ll taunt, and then maybe, they’ll prod at each other over how moronic their lives have become until they’re ( uncomfortably ) laughing through the remnants of a lost conversation. no resolution, but shiro doesn’t expect there to be one to this, not anymore.
being irresponsible is supposed to be that easy. but it’s not. of course it’s not. because keith is predictably unpredictable and for how well shiro lets himself believe he knows his best friend, there’s still those moments when he’s irrevocably thrown for a loop. like now.
there’s movement in the form of a cupped cheek and then keith steals more space. shiro blinks up, gazing filling and thoughts flat-lining on a low oh. distantly, he can follow the thread. he sees this for what it is. it’s a power move of taking control of their lives. choice is a luxury that comes and goes here, so in those pockets of reprieve, it’s their chance to decide for themselves. is it truly a choice though? isn’t this all manufactured and forced by the what if that may come tomorrow, next week, next month? or perhaps never.
how is this a good plan?
right. trust keith. that’s the plan, isn’t it? keith acts like he knows what he’s doing. but shiro doesn’t buy it. leaping before looking. acting before thinking. so reckless, not only with himself, but with shiro too. the frustration doesn’t quite manifest into anything substantial though and shiro merely wades through the awareness of it, staring a beat longer before finally dealing with… whatever this is.
he leans in. barely. those last centimeters close and shiro nudges their noses together. a slow, lazy nuzzle follows and shiro pointedly ignores the dizzying circle of his thoughts. warm. smooth. soft. he’s trying to make a point here, one centered on the fact that keith doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing. this is powder round two, except with clear heads -- is this better? does it feel fine? yes. no. no.
he flexes his fingers still wrapped around keith’s forearm -- his other arm having let go of the hand now on his cheek -- squeezing, part keeping keith close and part warning him to back off. ]
This doesn’t feel like a big deal to you?
[ and he tips closer, encroaching an’ domineering. mouth close enough now that he can taste keith’s breath on the next exhale and -- fuck. he started by wanting to teach keith something? that he’s in over his head? that it’s not that simple? this is too weird to even try? he’s lost sight of the plot. all he knows is this is another half-baked, terrible idea… which is why keith should pull away. ]
good luck.
being irresponsible is supposed to be that easy. but it’s not. of course it’s not. because keith is predictably unpredictable and for how well shiro lets himself believe he knows his best friend, there’s still those moments when he’s irrevocably thrown for a loop. like now.
there’s movement in the form of a cupped cheek and then keith steals more space. shiro blinks up, gazing filling and thoughts flat-lining on a low oh. distantly, he can follow the thread. he sees this for what it is. it’s a power move of taking control of their lives. choice is a luxury that comes and goes here, so in those pockets of reprieve, it’s their chance to decide for themselves. is it truly a choice though? isn’t this all manufactured and forced by the what if that may come tomorrow, next week, next month? or perhaps never.
how is this a good plan?
right. trust keith. that’s the plan, isn’t it? keith acts like he knows what he’s doing. but shiro doesn’t buy it. leaping before looking. acting before thinking. so reckless, not only with himself, but with shiro too. the frustration doesn’t quite manifest into anything substantial though and shiro merely wades through the awareness of it, staring a beat longer before finally dealing with… whatever this is.
he leans in. barely. those last centimeters close and shiro nudges their noses together. a slow, lazy nuzzle follows and shiro pointedly ignores the dizzying circle of his thoughts. warm. smooth. soft. he’s trying to make a point here, one centered on the fact that keith doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing. this is powder round two, except with clear heads -- is this better? does it feel fine? yes. no. no.
he flexes his fingers still wrapped around keith’s forearm -- his other arm having let go of the hand now on his cheek -- squeezing, part keeping keith close and part warning him to back off. ]
This doesn’t feel like a big deal to you?
[ and he tips closer, encroaching an’ domineering. mouth close enough now that he can taste keith’s breath on the next exhale and -- fuck. he started by wanting to teach keith something? that he’s in over his head? that it’s not that simple? this is too weird to even try? he’s lost sight of the plot. all he knows is this is another half-baked, terrible idea… which is why keith should pull away. ]