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« Shiro » TEXT ✧ AUDIO ✧ VIDEO ✧ ACTION Takashi Shirogane ✦ Voltron: Legendary Defender
RESIDENCE ✦ Emerald District Apartment #51
JOB ✦ Gembond Guardian
GEMBOND ✦ Sapphire

Hi, this is Shiro. Sorry I'm unavailable at the moment, but leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can.

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[ first the extended shower, now a reluctance to fully enter the room. alright. it’s not like shiro didn’t anticipate a heavy dosing of awkward. he understands it, even feels it himself, but rationality only softens the blow so far. it’s fine. shiro’s stubborn. he’s set to see this through with the little dignity he has left, so he resists the urge to resume his leg bouncing and keeps his smile, waiting out keith’s pause.

it’s not even that long. somehow, it seems to drag though and he reminds himself patience right before keith gives in with -- a joke? kind of? shiro thinks it’s meant to be lighthearted and shiro appreciates the attempt of matched levity. except, even well-intentions can hit wrong and here, shiro thinks red and feels himself grimacing despite his best efforts.

there’s no manual on the colors, obviously. but shiro knows the emotions that railroaded him, making it easy enough to guess by process of elimination. green with envy ring any bells? and red is widely accepted for amorous desires. he hasn’t quite figured out what blue has to do with flirtation but well, that’s what he thinks keith had been suffering from?

either way, between flirty and aggressively affectionate: ]

I don’t think you would’ve wanted red.

[ now it’s his turn to shy his gaze. it tips down and he picks at the fabric covering his right knee, smile twisting easily into a frown. ]

[ Well shit, now they're both being awkward and not looking at each other. Not that Keith picks up on that right away because he's guilty of the same thing, but it registers a few ticks later when he steals a furtive glance in Shiro's direction. The knot in his stomach tightens just that much further as he looks away again. ]

Probably not.

[ Why is he always so terrible at finding the right things to say? The familiar years long frustration wells up easily, but that's where axioms like patience yields focus come back to mind. Whether it's helpful is debatable. Not because he doesn't have the heart to be patient with Shiro, but because being patient with himself even though he's somehow actively making the situation worse seems.. undeserved. He sighs, yanking the towel off his head, letting it fall around his shoulders instead as he marches right up to the other side of the coffee table. While it's wet, his hair is distinctly mop-like, and Keith gives his bangs a resigned sweep off his forehead. [

Okay, look. Can we just ... [ He trails off. He thinks he knows what he wants going forward, but id that what Shiro wants? The forcefulness of his tone dissipates some and he ends more awkwardly on: ] ... well what did you want to say?

[ shiro shouldn’t be surprised. between the two of them, he believes keith to be the braver one; a perception that’s driven home with every stomp of those feet. he glances up then, watching keith swipe at his bangs and feeling the slightest distraction for those saturated locks. goodness -- shiro’s seen him countless times with doused hair, but he never quite gets over how bad it looks. like a drowned cat, maybe? it’s endearing in the dumbest way possible and for a moment, he forgets himself, the corner of his mouth twitching, curling…

only for the smile to die under the weight of those forceful words. keith catches himself too and then that demeanor softens. ah, fantastic. the awkwardness is back. he hated the distance before and he thinks he hates the closeness too, or at least, he hates the squirmy feeling that’s gaining ground from sitting useless as keith stands just across the way. should he stand too? no, that’s stupid. he’s not actually at any sort of disadvantage here by having the more submissive position. and even if he is, perhaps that’s deserved.

he draws a breath, taps his fingers on his knee instead and -- nothing. how does he even go about this? he’s had twenty-something minutes to rehearse and now when faced with a point-blank, he hesitates on the lines. there’s so much to unpack and so much to apologize for and… yeah, that’s the best way to start, huh? ]

I wanted to say I’m sorry. [ he’s made sure to look up for that, hoping to come across as genuine as he is remorseful. there’s hardly a pause though, because he knows what the argument is and he’s quick to cut any hint of it off. ] I know, I know -- the powder.

[ like this shitshow is supposed to be forgotten with a single line. it’s similar, he supposes, to the transformations from weeks past. but underneath the strange features, they’d been them, right? minds altered at times, true, but if they focused hard enough, they could come back to themselves. so how is this different? maybe shiro hadn’t tried enough to overcome the colors and their influence. convinced on that, his features harden on self-condemnation. ]

But that doesn’t excuse what I said to you. [ a beat; the smallest of grimaces. ] What I did to you.

[ he makes it sound so terrible, like they did more than groping hands and suggestive words. shiro doesn’t know how to cut himself slack though. to him, it’s disrespect and broken boundaries, and given the history they’ve been mending, shiro isn’t confident that keith’s ability to forgive will always hold strong. ]

So if there’s any of this that’s made you uneasy or if you need more time apart… [ he’ll leave? he doesn’t have much here. he could see if his original apartment is still available; even just temporarily. ] I just want you to be comfortable moving forward.

[ Caught by surprise, Keith blinks, all annoyance vanishing. This isn't where he thought the conversation was going at all, and he very obviously misses a beat and stumbles on the recovery. ]

Huh?

[ I don't blame you -- wasn't that the launching point for all this? That he'd been caught red-handed doing something incriminating that demanded, if not a reprimand then at least some personal responsibility? If it'd just been the powder, then keith might not have been as defensive, but knowing he can't actually wash his hands completely of this stupidity is what'd made him seize up in the first place. Admittedly, that's entirely ridiculous. Like some kid with cookie crumbs around his mouth throwing a stink about how he most definitely did not eat any cookies.

Of course, Keith isn't actually proud of his initial reaction -- he's rarely ever prouod of that, really, but having some time and space to himself had made it abundantly clear that if Shiro wanted to cross examine him, then he had every right to. From the initial texts, the teasing, all the way down to the intention to strip Shiro down to nothing.

keith bites his lip, his initial train of thought now thoroughly derailed. Is that what the coiled tension in Shiro's body language is about then? Some badly suppressed worry that Keith wants him to leave? Keith stares for another moment, sinking down on the coffee table. ]

I... Shiro, no. You don't need to apologize for this planet being stupid, you know that. I know you didn't really mean any of what you said. [ Or did, but Keith isn't willing to dwell on the memory of Shiro's hands on his body. ] It's fine. [ a beat. ] I mean it's not fine that this place can cause things like that to happen that easily, but.....

[ here, he heaves a sigh, looking away briefly before managing to force a small smile. ]

it's just how it is now, I guess. [ Then, more quietly: ] But I'm sorry too.

[ he just barely catches himself from opening his mouth to brush off that apology. afterall, it’s not keith’s fault that the powder got the better of him. but by that logic, why is he blaming himself? the standard isn’t the same and shiro is never as quite fair to himself as he is to others. mouth remaining shut, he works his jaw on the clenching of his teeth and swallows through the garble that won’t come, all the while thinking, it’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine.

no, keith was right on the following part. this is so far from fine and likely, not a one-time thing. malachite loves playing with them. there’s no telling what it will come up with next, only that something will come. best to mentally prepare himself for it, because what else is there to do? put distance between keith and himself? no. just now, shiro had been blocks away. and before, with the transformations, keith tracked him down. no matter what, it seems as though they find their way back to each other and that’s… he doesn’t know. comforting in some sense. troubling in another.

he sighs then, looking to keith perched there on the coffee table and nods faintly. ]

I know. [ to everything: stupid planet, it not being fine, this is how it is ( get used to it ). the small smile settles him, even forced as it is, and while shiro still has that miserable look about him, he doesn’t leave keith alone in this. he tries for a smile of his own. ]

But promise me. If this happens again… shove me in the closet and barricade the door.

[ he’s choosing to ignore the glaring probability that keith will likely be as compromised. but half an hour ago, keith hadn’t been, right? shiro can’t say exactly when keith’s powder effects wore off. he only knows that they did before shiro’s. so next time -- and hell, he’s inwardly cringing at the mere suggestion -- he’d rather keith not indulge shiro’s whims. keith deserves better than having to deal with… that. ]

You’d be doing both of us a favor.

[ when shiro's troubled expression doesn't fade entirely, keith's own smile falters slightly. it doesn't go away entirely, but when the desire to give shiro's shoulder a reassuring squeeze to lift his spirits rises up keith has to wonder whether that's a good idea or not. a beat later, he can't help scowling a little. he's never shied away from reaching out to shiro that way before and he's not going to let some fucking powder start changing that now. ]

Shiro. [ steeled on resolve, his voice comes out with more gravity than intended as he slaps his hand down on one broad shoulder. there. that wasn't so bad, was it? ] If you managed to escape the Galra, I'm not sure how you expect a closet and a chair propped up against the handle to hold you.

[ there's almost a laugh then, though not quite. not that the situation in the bathroom had made keith feel like he was in danger, but there's no denying that part of the reason it'd been easier to try and work with shiro and appease him is because keith doesn't want to fight him while shiro's not himself. there's something in there that probably warrants some psychoanalysis, but you can bet keith will do no such thing. instead he tries to deflect with a forced heh and a squeeze. ]

But in any case... if something happens, it happens I guess.

[ keith doesn't necessarily like that, but he supposes it could have been worse if he'd sent flirty texts to someone else. or if shiro got handsy with a stranger. ...ah, but that's not a thought keith wants to entertain either. he takes his hand off, then refolds his arms. ]

But I'll keep your suggestion in mind.

[ he’d been trying to ignore that too. he hasn’t activated his arm in… when was the last time? the first day in this apartment? keith hasn’t outright said he’s afraid of him, hasn’t even hinted at it, but shiro is hesitant to accept that the fiasco with the clone hasn’t damaged something between them. the arm is a weapon; simple. he knows the clone must’ve used it to overpower keith at that facility. so activating it? low on his list. not that there has been much use for that enhanced strength and power. their enemy -- possible enemy -- is an elusive god and every fight has been of the mental kind.

the closet idea is ludicrous. he understands that. half serious, half joking, he’d been hoping to accomplish… something with it, not that he can even adequately describe what. it’s backfired though. now, he’s faced with the very real scenario of him ripping the closet apart to get out. to get at keith. what is he supposed to do with that knowledge? make another bad joke about how, yes, he’ll punch his way out and hopefully, he’ll take out keith’s trash jacket in the process?

he hates this. he thinks this is the lowest point in his hate that he’s had for this place. right here, right now, so much of this feels like keith doesn’t -- care? like, whatever happens to keith doesn’t matter. the sentiment isn’t new by any means. shiro’s familiar enough with keith’s self-sabotaging and frankly, detached perception for his own well-being.

if something happens, it happens. right.

why isn’t he concerned? why isn’t he angry? twenty minutes ago, shiro had been fretting over the possibility of keith being uncomfortable enough to command shiro to leave and now, he almost wishes keith wouldn’t smile, wouldn’t laugh in that half-stuck, half-engaged way of his. shiro doesn’t want a free-pass. that makes this so much worse.

so if keith refuses to get angry, guess shiro will on his behalf. fuck all, someone needs to. ]

It shouldn’t be that easy. [ staring at the careful fold of keith’s arms, shiro frowns slow, each beat having his features tightening until he’s one stop short of glaring. he wanted this -- he tries to remind himself that he wanted them to be okay. he shouldn’t be prodding deeper and stirring a pot that should be left the fuck alone.

and yet -- he huffs and he’s on his feet, looking down at keith. ]

Why are you…

[ don’t get mad at him. shiro’s the one at fault here. if he looks beyond that statement, all the reasons as to why shiro isn’t the blame are there to examine. but he’s stubborn and he’s mad and he’s… afraid, honestly. he steps away from keith then, shaking his head as he rounds the coffee table. ]

If you end up forcing yourself on me, Shiro, no big deal. [ mocking, that’s the best way to describe his tone. it doesn’t last though and soon he’s just tired from the chaotic tumble of his thoughts. around the table and closer to the television stand against the opposite wall, he briefly covers his face with his hands, rubbing his palms hard, as though to physically dispel the tension. ]

I was thinking things, Keith. [ don’t you get it, is the unspoken part. one last rub and then he drops his hands, gaze to the floor. ] I wanted to do things to you.

[ a great many, unmentionable things that might have come to pass if they’d actually made it into the shower. ]

[ great. powder or no powder, it looks like today is just one of those fucking days where every other thing catches on raw nerves and sets off a goddamn landmine. technically, keith knows better than to fire back with the same simmering resentment. he's let his emotions get the better of him for years, and the fact that he's still got a handle on it when shiro starts on his unfinished accusation is nothing short of remarkable, considering the way it's starting to rattle at his defensiveness.

what really kicks that into overdrive is the sardonic shade that comes right after. keith is up on his feet in an instant, hands balled into fists at his sides and glaring across the room. ]

What the hell. [ the counter accusation is snapped. even considering his shitty wording, is that really the conclusion shiro's drawn here? never mind that shiro's dictating the fucking obvious to him like he's a child who doesn't know what sexual intent is. ]

You think I don't know you have a dick or something?

[ ah, fuck. mayday, mayday. houston, we have a problem. distantly, the warning bells are going off in his head and he knows he should backpedal like his life depends on it before this spirals. it’s a dumb argument to have when there’s no actual solution. but keith’s on his feet. hands balled, glare in place -- there’s the anger shiro needed. keith isn’t the only one with a shit sense of self-preservation. if anything, shiro has a sick fascination with choosing the when and how he goes down in flames. it’s inevitable anyway, right? might as well grab the wheel with both hands and control the crash.

chin dipped, he eyes keith from lowered, narrowed lashes and he scoffs, tipping his head up on the tailend of that sound. he rolls his eyes up toward the ceiling and adopts keith’s earlier stance of grumpy, crossed arms. ]

Right. You figured me out. [ that dismissive tone is back, both bitter and mocking. the whole problem started when keith brushed this off as a nothing. nothing to see here, nothing to think about, what happens, happens. no biggie? now keith makes it worse by dumbing down the argument into a question so idiotic that it’s actually insulting.

if keith doesn’t want to take this concern seriously, then fine, forget it. ] That’s what I think.

[ so this is where they are now, huh? shiro looking down on him -- physically. metaphorically. keith knows that kind of condescension well -- seen it, heard it, hated it from just about every teacher and garrison officer. coming from shiro though, it's a low blow, and one that successfully throws keith off kilter. he doesn't drop eye contact, refusing to cede that tiny bit of ground, but the anger takes on different hues, like vertigo's been thrown into the mix and he doesn't know if he needs to sit down or get the fuck out of the apartment. ]

Why are you trying to make me mad at you? The hell is this accomplishing?

[ but the wheels are turning in his mind as he speaks, and an answer clicks into place. keith narrows his eyes, hands settling on his hips. where there'd been heat to his tone before, it very abruptly takes on the qualities of siberian winter. ]

Oh. I get it. You're trying to goad me into telling you to leave.

[ what else would it be other than this fucking unresolved issue all over again. ]

[ that’s not what this is. he wants to deny it and yet, even in the heat of the moment, he knows keith has him. since when did that kid become so perceptive? is shiro that transparent? sickeningly funny, isn’t it? keith gets all the flack of being a burnout just itching to slam a hand down on the self-destruct and yet here’s shiro, throwing away a good thing over -- what? principle?

maybe he hasn’t changed at all. once upon a time, he had an outlook that refused to bend for compromise. shiro thought, maybe, he outgrew it when duty became more important than shiro’s dreams for himself. for a time, they even aligned. voltron meant something to him; still does. but the team became more important than shiro himself and more specifically, keith took centerfold. here, he thinks the desire to keep keith safe an’ focused on a certain pathway has twisted so much in his head that he’s actually mangled it into something unrecognizable.

perhaps even something cruel.

the fight doesn’t disappear but his expression shutters and then he’s looking to the floor, the slightest drawing in of his shoulders. shame? yeah, the movement holds a lot of that. he knows he’s wrong; has known it since he first stood up. but-- ]

I only want to protect you.

[ from him? and isn’t that fucking rich? he takes it back -- he has changed. now he’s exactly what he hated all those years when he had dreams and a gaze stubbornly set on the stars. so now he’s the person who shelters and smothers and decides what’s best for someone else. who is he even anymore? how long can he blame it on death and being brought back to a body, to a world he feels completely out of depth in?

nonetheless, his voice has a wavering tilt to it -- petulant, partly, and mostly uncertain. not uncertain of wanting the best for keith, no of course not, but hesitating on whether that’s something he’s even allowed to say. ]

[ keith stays quiet. one beat, then two. waiting.

but there isn't further elaboration beyond what shiro's stated, so keith has to stare down the bitter conclusion that he actually had been correct then. shiro isn't giving him anything, no denial, not even plausible deniability now that he can see shiro shrinking into his shoulders and .... ah. the knot in his stomach is gone, but it's replaced by something heavier, a bone deep exhaustion and a nice sprinkling of disappointment to top it off.

the scowling breaks then, but it feels like a whole lot more broke with it. this time, keith doesn't fight the lurch of vertigo and drops himself down on the couch, elbows propped up on his knees, forehead pressed to his palms as fingers briefly dig into his scalp. ]

We're just... never gonna move past this, are we.

[ the words come up unbidden on the back of exasperation. his regret is instant. why the hell did he give that a voice? stupid. keith sucks in a deep breath, then forces himself to look up. ]

Shiro. [ his throat clamps up, forcing a pause and a swallow. ] If that's what you want, maybe you should just be locking me in the closet. You're not the only one here who was affected by powder. Hell, it could have been anyone on the street today that got splashed with red. And I... [ again, he hates just about everything about that, but he's already said as much. sighing, he gets back up on his feet to pace around the coffee table, unable to sit still after the adrenaline spike of their fight. ]

Look. I don't want anything like that to happen because of some stupid powder. But if it has to happen, all I'm saying is that I would prefer that it happened with you.

[ he lets that one hang in the air for a moment, eyes on the floorboards rather than shiro. but given everything that's been said, it's pretty clear that's not a mutual sentiment. rather than give shiro a chance to respond, he presses forward. this time, keith does make eye contact. ]

But none of that's important. If you want to leave, just... go. I want you to stay , but I'm not gonna force you to.

Edited (dumb typo /floppy hand) 2021-03-21 04:19 (UTC)

[ shit. that took a left turn. wait, no, more than that -- a left turn to go barreling straight off a cliff. never going to move past this? fuck.

the pain radiating off of keith is almost palpable. shiro can just about convince himself that he can feel it in the suffocating nature of the room. heck, he can hear it in his voice, see it in that broken hunch -- what shakes the swirling undercurrent of his dismal thoughts is seeing that they’re dragging keith down with him. always hurting him. always causing him pain. somewhere along the way from galaxy garrison to here, shiro stopped being keith’s rock and in turn became his anchor, one destined to pull him down so deep that he drowns with all of shiro’s burdens.

he doesn’t want that. he can’t have that. he refuses to do that to keith. so here he… tries. it takes a swallow and a steadying breath, but he brings himself back enough to formulate a quiet: ]

I don’t know why I keep doing this.

[ admitting it aloud has anxiety spiking and he glances to the door on instinct. his feet stay rooted though and he makes no indication of wanting to move beyond the glance. soon enough, he swallows and shakes his head, looking to keith and then right back to the floor. ]

I’m not… -- I don’t want to go. I want to be with you.

[ here, in their -- home? he’s hesitant to name it that. he keeps thinking this is temporary but now there’s a closet full of clothes, taken hiding spots and a cat. they’re building something here. ]

But I start thinking about what’s happened and what could happen and... [ he curls his fingers into his biceps and hugs himself tighter, knowing that he isn’t explaining any of this with any real justice. he has faith that keith will get it though -- he has a knack for understanding shiro when shiro doesn't even fully understand himself. this time, is it shame that keeps his gaze lowered? no. stubbornness? not that either. actually, it’s a slip in attention and a running of curiosity, because there’s something keith said before. i would prefer that it happened with you. it makes sense considering the world and keith's general disdain for strangers. but… it touches deeper inside him and the whole of him brims with the half-delirious idea of a them. brief, temporary, whatever.

… is that -- good? for them? for what shiro has decided their friendship to be? he doesn’t know and he can’t know, not right now, not when his head is already a mess. so he never quite manages an answer for himself and then he slips in concentration again, instead rounding back to how he needs to give keith something more than indecision and false leads. he thinks maybe he’s pressing his luck. keith doesn’t do patience. he tries when it comes to shiro -- which shiro is both grateful and proud of him for -- however, shiro knows that if he continues to give keith nothing in return, that steady presence will inevitably disappear.

in the end, it’s all for naught. he can’t put words to how he's just as lost to what his own end game is. ]

I don’t know what I’m doing.

[ he reiterates and looks up, peeking at keith. ]

[ keith keeps his eyes on shiro throughout, but doesn't have the foggiest clue what expression he's even pulling at this point. the idea that shiro doesn't know what he's doing seems ... laughable. during the war, he'd always been their leader -- the one everyone turned to for a plan. or maybe that's just the rose tinted glasses keith wears whenever he thinks about shiro's legacy as the head of voltron speaking louder than reality. either way, he finds he doesn't know what to think. the idea that apparently shiro finds keith harder to navigate than a fucking war keeps teetering somewhere between funny and depressing, shifting from one beat to the next.

but then .... it's kinda relatable, isn't it? the war demanded decisiveness, a tacit acceptance of collateral damage and the recognition that inaction was also an action. with that kind of pressure lifted away, it's opened up so much more room to overanalyze every little detail that obscures the bigger picture.

I want to be with you. I love you, too. I'm sorry I made it seem like I'd forgotten.

keith knows all of these things and yet .... he stops looking at shiro then, gaze shifting down to where his hand is clenched tight into a fist. it's disorienting all over again to think that shiro had unwillingly kissed his hand half an hour ago. pushing that thought aside, keith breathes in deeply.

they're a team. always have been, always will be. but like with any team, it's only as strong as the conviction they have in each other. it'd been that way with voltron as well, hadn't it? shiro was as effective as he was because the entire team was there to lift him up. maybe keith isn't doing enough lifting here. maybe shiro would doubt him less if he stopped letting the past unravel the things he knows are true.

he breathes out slowly, letting that resolve saturate. then, he walks over to where shiro is standing. he takes another step into his best friend's personal space, and in the next beat sets his hands on both shoulders. ]

Then trust me a little. You're making this complicated. [ a squeeze and then: ] I meant what I said. I'm going to support you, no matter what tricks these so-called detieis pull.

[ this seems familiar. it carries the same notes of reassurance that keith’s given him before. it always comes in the form of gentle notes and steadfast holds. since reconnecting all those weeks ago, there’s been talk about shiro taking his time, about them being a team, about how keith will always be there for him and never give up on him. knowing that keith has ultimately decided to always have shiro’s back is a comfort, of course it is, but here, it carries jaded undertones of how that loyalty is too freely given.

he does trust keith though, especially when it comes to understanding his own needs and limits.

even so, his lips remain sealed to protest and his gaze unlifted despite the buzzing awareness of keith’s squeeze and palpable desperation for shiro to engage. there’s a slight nodding of his head as the silence settles and then he lifts his hand. no, not one -- he’s going for both. he can silently admit to himself that he still has no idea what he’s doing and that he still doesn’t feel solid footed in the least, but palms brush and then he curls his fingers, wrapping them around the low end of keith’s forearms for two loose clasps.

if he can’t give keith words to hold onto, maybe answering holds will do? honestly, it’s more selfish than that. it’s grounding for shiro and a physical tapping of strength that he draws from keith in order to finally drive his gaze up to peek at the other man. ]

Okay.

[ quiet, yet resolute, at least his voice has strength to it that can be depended on. there’s a pause there, as though the thought isn’t complete and he’s going to clarify something beyond a one word answer. however, the moment lapses and then he obviously changes route by abruptly abandoning the somber air for his shitty defense mechanism. ]

Listen to Keith more and stop being a moron… [ his head is still slightly ducked, as though he hasn’t centered himself enough to fully level it for his usual confidence. a smile touches his lips though and it’s crooked. playful, maybe, albeit slightly strained. ]

The second part might be a bit of a tall order but I think I can manage.

[ keith holds his breath as shiro reaches up to reciprocate the touch. the day's gone all topsy-turvy and inside out, so he doesn't know if the intention is to try and drive him back. it isn't until shiro breaks into a smile that keith allows himself to relax a pinch. the humor is probably a good sign, or at least a cue to take a step back and let the topic go before the conversation takes yet another turn.

but keith isn't actually ready to let this go. shiro had been quick to flare up to anger and keith knows all too well that putting a smile on this quickly doesn't actually mean the issue's been resolved. perhaps that's just how it is. there isn't actually any way for either of them to make the root of the problem go away. but the aftermath and the consequences? that, at least, is something they might actually have some control over. ]

Shiro, I'm serious.

[ and as if to punctuate that, keith slides one hand up to cup shiro's cheek. pay attention to me is what that is. an entirely embarrassing sentiment, all things considered, but keith is determined to make a point. he shaves another half-step from the distance between them, looking shiro dead in the eye from just a little too close. ]

It's not a big deal unless we make it that.

[ and right now, standing like this, with the tip of his nose mere centimeters away from touching shiro's ... this isn't a big deal, is it? ]

[ 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. ]

[ so here they are, seemingly back where the day under powdered dictate was initially hurtling towards, except this time keith actually feels as though he has some semblance of some goddamn control. yes, his pulse has shot up now that shiro edges in that half inch closer and yes, that stupid syncopated rhythm of missed beats starts up again when their faces align and shiro's question is physically tangible on his lips as warm breath.

but the question leaves more than just passive impressions. keith eyes haven't strayed from shiro's and that mocking jab is the catalyst that warps what had been wrongfully sweet and tender in the bathroom into a fucking challenge. you just have that kind of effect on me, was it? fuck that. shiro is toying with him, testing his resolve because he still isn't taking keith seriously.

the disheartening part of that is that it's not even surprising anymore. how many times is keith going to have to say the same fucking thing before it even halfway sticks in shiro's head? ten times? a thousand? will keith even have a voice left over by the end of it?

as much as keith isn't used to anyone, including shiro, encroaching this far into his personal space, keith doesn't flinch away or blush. because if shiro's attitude isn't surprising, you can damn well bet that it's infuriating and that cuts through the bullshit of flustered nerves like an ion cannon. ]

That's what I said, isn't it.

[ as with most things keith, the irritable defiance isn't subtle. his brows knit together, the retort fired back in tones a stone's throw away from being outright growled. the look in his eyes is likewise set with gritty determination, focused, like he's surveying a battlefield rather than an equally defiant shiro.

in the next beat, his gloved hand tightens around the angle of shiro's jaw and keith pushes up to press their lips together in a quick, decisive motion. under a different set of circumstances, he might have pulled back immediately, leaving the kiss fleeting and chaste, but right now whatever part of him that's jittery and nervous about shit like first kisses and first kisses with shiro is overwhelmingly drowned out by something else.

no, this isn't a big deal and he doesn't fucking care how long their lips are going to have to stay glued together for shiro to get the damn point. ]

Edited (catches typo hours later.... ) 2021-03-23 00:21 (UTC)

[ … huh. the world doesn’t end. he may be stockstill, but he can hear it moving all the same, from the scratch of a cat clawing at the carpet to the faint buzz of the fluorescent light left on in the kitchen. so maybe this isn’t the moment to crash and burn. or maybe they simply haven’t hit it yet. amazing, really, that it’s only when keith’s mouth is pressed to his that shiro thinks he may have gone about this the wrong way. still, regret is a heavy label and one not easily taken back. they’ve crossed a line, fine yes, they went there, but now options fan out in his mind and within the timeframe of snapped fingers, he needs to decide.

push him away? weather the inevitable fallout and hope for the best in mending the broken pieces of their friendship?

stay and wait him out? don’t reciprocate but let keith take what he needs before the argument is reiterated and lines are recemented?

or… respond. is that even an option to consider?

the thing is -- the world hasn’t ended, right? their friendship has survived through gossip, separation, expectation, and death. stolen identity and attempted murder is there too, he supposes. so what’s his problem? why would he think that after all that, they would buckle under the strain of intimacy? perhaps because shiro’s out of practice and hesitant of it in a way his tactile nature would never suggest. all this talk about not wanting to make keith uncomfortable -- shiro’s there too. again, his powdered acts come into focus and he thinks they weren’t isolated, fabricated acts. the colors leeched from a bank of repressed feelings. that’s why he’s so wound tight about all of this, because at world’s edge he’d been looking and on the roof he’d been feeling and he doesn’t want to think about the implications of any of it.

two ticks? three. fuck, what’s his decision?

he gives in. unsurprising; he always inevitably does. keith has no idea how much power he has over him, does he? he’s got that magnetic pull to him and a finesse to beat every odd stacked up against him. apparently, being able to entrap the last functioning brain cells of one takashi shirogane is a skill keith has unknowingly mastered by merely being his stubborn, hardheaded, forever infuriating self. fuck, he loves him despite the faults, even this boldness. the anger is there too though and… that’s not what he wants for keith.

his own frustration simmers low and doesn’t rise to meet keith’s. instead, shiro goes in the opposite direction. he softens under the strain and shifts his feet, centering his weight to offset him touching his hand to keith’s waist. it slips around to find the small of his back. the other hand at keith’s forearm skims down his arm and then abandons it altogether to grasp at his nape. he tugs briefly at the flyaway strands that grow too long before flattening his palm, cupping the back of his head.

there. now, about him being out of practice.

the angle is all wrong. noses together and lips mashed too close, it’s aggressive, almost violent, and again, shiro thinks not like this. instead, he thinks soft, gentle, make it good. because if they’re here and set on doing this, then at the very least, they deserve a kiss representative of what they mean to each other. for shiro? keith is a precious someone and he tries to convey that in the tilt of his head an’ sweetening of pressure.

it’s a bit of a disaster, at least the start and this slow rebounding, but shiro is fading fast anyway. keith fills his senses and steals his breath and hell, he forgot how good it could feel to be this close to someone. it’s too much and yet not enough and keith’s mouth -- it’s plush and molded to his and if shiro just parts his own to tease with the barest hint of moist heat, maybe they can try…

he makes a noise in the back of his throat and he draws keith closer with his hand there in the dip of his spine. the gem is there. distantly, he thinks it and then it has him smiling the faintest bit, palm rubbing slow in half-distraction, as though trying to pinpoint it, before finally settling for a hold that has keith pressed close hip to chest. ]

[ keith's dealt with plenty of awkwardness in his life, but there's very little that comes close to rivaling the sheer depth of having his eyes closed and his lips pressed firmly to shiro's only for the reaction to be about as animate as pressing his mouth to a cpr practice dummy. keith's mind swims with confusion, halfway tempted to crack open an eye to see what the hell shiro's expression even is here, but not a beat later he decides against that; he doesn't want to know.

it's downright humiliating, actually. he thought for sure shiro would at least shove him away or get mad. it's here and now that keith realizes that no reaction whatsoever is the worst outcome he should have been braced for. is this really not even worth responding to?? when he tears himself away, is shiro still going to be making that blindingly judgmental face at him? shit. maybe he should just call it quits, but some dogged persistence has his grip tightening slightly around shiro's face. he won't back down from this, and if it's about attrition then fine. anything to change the status quo shiro has dug his heels into.... for better or for worse. it's too late to back down and he won't second guess this now.

luckily, it isn't long before there is a reaction, and the arm circling his waist makes keith freeze. the blink of confusion is purely metaphorical here, but practically tangible all the same. then there's the hand winding down his arm and draping over his neck, the gentle drag of warm lips across his own as shiro... corrects (???) their positioning.

the swoop hits hard and low in his stomach. it's the most delayed of delayed reactions, and keith mentally scrambles with what to do now that shiro's outpaced the plan. ....if this can even be called a plan to begin with... which arguably, it never was. maybe it'd just been a wish all along.

Shiro

he mouths the name wordlessly against shiro's lips, the hand resting on his shoulder now winding up and over to press between shoulder blades. is it okay to want this? keith had caught himself wondering idly, but has never allowed the question to progress further than a quick mental shake and berating. this isn't how they feel about each other, after all. but this is different. this is something they're doing of their own volition, no powder, no malachite, just the two of them in their apartment with the rest of the world a collection of irrelevant noise. but maybe he shouldn't be so quick to be placated here. for all he knows, shiro could take a step back and repeat that same smug question.

This doesn’t feel like a big deal to you?

the part of him that's dizzy, light and tingling from all the places they're touching is a little breathless, high on some kind of rush from the tentative connection they're forging here. the part of him that's still ruffled and irked isn't satisfied. he still doesn't know what the hell, he's doing when it comes to kisses, but that isn't going to deter him from making more of a damn point.

tongues. something about tongues and the french. whatever the hell the french have to do with kissing.

keith parts his lips. is this embarrassing? yes. it still isn't stopping him from experimentally licking shiro's lip though. ]

[ the point has been made. they can touch. they can kiss. they can toss up metaphorical middle fingers to malachite and come out of that recklessness unscathed. there’s no reason to drag this out. well, no reason shiro wants to put voice to. good thing his mouth is otherwise occupied then, huh. still, his mind whispers the truths to him and he doesn’t know how to compartmentalize the growing awareness that he likes this. keith’s hands on him, keith’s mouth on him -- his body molds to his just so and they fit together in a way shiro refuses to overanalyze.

this whole thing is backwards anyway. upside down too. it’s a mess of miscommunication and forced expectations, leaving shiro to feel as though he’s lost what little control he’s held. he may be physically anchoring keith to him, but he doesn’t feel like the leader here. are either of them? maybe not, but shiro still thinks keith has the better of him, because keith’s got him ensnared and trailing, hooked on the taste of his mouth. this all boils down to what keith is doing to him and that’s... sobering. there’s that wait again, but then the warning lapses; there’s too much hazy want feeding into the loop for him to draw himself away.

and then there’s his tongue.

all it takes is one tentative brush. keith’s already taken his mouth and shiro offers the rest of it up freely, lips mildly slack, mildly sloppy on the push an’ drag as he touches his tongue to keith’s. he gathers keith closer next, only in the sense that fingers tighten in hair, teasing the wetness out of strands that for once aren’t a tangled mess. another tilt to change the angle and he exhales heavy into the space between their mouths, tongue pressing, swiping --

he feels warm. it’s there in the flush of his cheeks and color across his nose. his head feels stuffy from it, heady too. in the span of two breaths, he honestly doesn’t know what to do with himself or keith or the situation as a whole. either way, he can’t say puffing out a breathless moan around the wet sound of their mouths is helping him figure it out any faster. ]

Edited (... wow record on edit time) 2021-03-23 22:46 (UTC)

[ the bump of their tongues sends a tiny electric jolt down the length of keith's spine. he isn't sure what he was expecting -- it's wet, it's a little sloppy because he doesn't know what exactly he's supposed to be doing here and by all accounts this should be exactly as weird as the excited gossiping in the garrison bathrooms had made it sound. words like magical, amazing, fireworks all tossed around far too easily by cadets over something as uninteresting as sharing spit in one of the most invasive ways conceivable.

but this doesn't feel invasive at all. if anything, it comes distressingly close to a couple of terrible cliches about firsts that keith refuses to accept he may be a little susceptible to. he's angry -- he hasn't forgotten that despite shiro's machinations, damn it. fingers dig into shiro's back in some show of force as keith leans a little further into the kiss. whether that should be interpreted as a don't let me go or some roundabout way of saying fuck you while his mouth is occupied is up for debate.

you want a lot of things is what shiro had accused him of in the bathroom. keith well and truly doesn't have any rebuttal for that anymore. it's hard to want when you don't know what you're missing and well... whether keith wants to admit it or not, his entire being feels as though it's splitting into contradictory elements: airy but grounded, warm but not warm enough, safe and yet.. kinda terrified of what'll happen when the kissing stops.

at least the short term solution for that last one seems obvious enough: don't stop kissing. of course, that's not an actual solution at all, but his inner cynic abandons ship, thoughts sputtering into radio static when shiro breathes that soft ah into the kiss.

fuck it. if this is potentially the one and only time keith can have this, then he wants to hoard it all. the way shiro tastes, feels and sounds. it's unfair really -- shiro just has to be incredible in so many ways. heart racing, keith kisses in earnest, each movement an unspoken I want you. maybe that should make him madder, huh? pissed off or not, it just doesn't seem to make a difference.

instead here he is, pushing up onto his toes to get a better angle to kiss. whatever limited self awareness that stokes however, disappears when there's an accidental bump of teeth. it isn't painful, but just jarring enough that keith pulls back. ]

Oh. [ cheeks flushing crimson, keith quickly looks away and mumbles: ] My bad.

[ magical and fireworks -- heh. shiro outgrew soft-sentimentals ages ago. sappy descriptions lost their appeal somewhere around month seven of an extended engagement and severed completely when someone refused to wait. he’s not jaded about intimacy but he’s found it easier to live without it. there are bigger things to worry about, namely purple aliens and an expanding empire. death has only made it easier to let go of any lingering wants or needs and weeks into an unasked resurrection, he’s held onto the delusion that he’s better off alone. well… not alone; he tried that and keith wouldn’t let him damn himself in the name of the greater good. guess keith isn’t going to let him be alone in this aspect either.

it isn’t like that. this doesn’t mean that. however, kissing keith is kickstarting the awareness that he isn’t beyond wanting to share himself with someone. it’s been a long thing coming, really. fucking manna. every evening of set aside time to hold hands has become less an’ less of a chore and more of something to enjoy. throw in every hug held longer than necessary and that one night he settled into keith’s bed, for once sleeping through until morning. it’s been -- nice. wonderful, even. having someone to come home to… there’s something incredibly grounding about knowing there’s that solid presence ready to reach out and hold on the moment he starts to falter. so maybe he’s been thinking about it the wrong way. maybe he hasn’t made himself stronger by denying a deeper connection with someone. so maybe he does need someone back in his life. and by someone, perhaps he really means…

that thought is terrifying. here though, the two of them close, breathing the same air, sharing the same warmth -- it has him thinking it’s exhilarating too. it’s almost like driving a hoverbike straight off a cliff. caution to the wind, it’s horrifying on the first drop, when gravity takes over and adrenaline kicks in. but it’s freeing too. all it takes is getting the timing right and then everything comes together just right to have the hoverbike leveling away from disaster. they’re friends. they’ll always be friends. but maybe they could --

except here, it isn’t leveling out at the last second. here, it’s like slamming face first into an explosion of dirt and sand. there’s hardly any pain to it. it’s just a bad angle that clips wrong but keith pulls back and the collateral damage has shiro losing the thread of his thoughts as everything in him immediately turns toward concern. briefly, that is. as soon as he flutters his eyes open and has keith coming into sharp focus, that concern for chipped teeth broadens for the more general oh shit, what did they just finish doing?

forget kissing. he made out with keith. that on top of what he’d just been thinking…

talk about getting caught up in the moment. the excuse doesn’t sit quite right but shiro barrels on before he can analyze every which way it fits wrong. ]

It’s -- fine.

[ the pause in-between doesn’t help his cause. he pulls in a lungful of air, feeling the slightest bit winded -- from kissing, from panic, from surprise… one of those. all of those? either way, he can feel the tension knotting in his shoulders and he tries to expel it with the following exhale. staring at keith’s carefully averted gaze and reddening face is difficult but what’s downright lethal is the way his gaze drops to the fullness of a ruddy mouth that’s a little wet and a little ruined.

ah, fuck.

he forces his gaze toward the ceiling and distracted on trying not to think about the obvious, he tongues at the tooth that suffered the brunt of keith’s miscalculation. two seconds in and he thinks tongue and more specifically, where it had just been. abruptly, he hides his tongue behind his teeth and looks back to keith with a half-hysteric smile that’s only barely winced. ]

No, uh. [ pause. try again. ] No harm done?

[ why the hell is that coming out as a question? and why hasn’t he realized he still has a hand in keith’s hair and a hand around his waist? detangling would be a good idea right about now… if he wasn’t a moron with a slow moving brain, that is. ]

[ it doesn't feel remotely fine actually. especially now that the unsettling flusteredness has finally hit keith upside the head. heat climbs up all the way to the tips of his ears, heart practically tripping over its own erratic rhythm. desperate to find some composure, keith presses his lips together like that might make the residual tingle from the heat of shiro's mouth fade. it doesn't.

god, he botched this one pretty badly huh? but that begs the question of why it should even matter if shiro thinks he's awful at kissing. the obvious, defiant answer is that it doesn't matter in the slightest. the point, insofar that there was ever a point, was to prove shiro wrong and well -- mission accomplished??

keith peeks up very cautiously, ready to look away again if shiro happens to be looking at him. mercifully, shiro seems to be preoccupied with the ceiling, but it dawns on keith a beat later that this skittishness is familiar and not in a good way. shit, all that's missing is some giggling behind hands and he'd fit right in with all the other cadets making goo goo eyes over a crush.

wait, no. no that's not a train of thought he wants to entertain while their arms are still wound around each other like this. but then... he doesn't not want to be bundled up like this either. especially while shiro's smiling in that relatable awkward way and that look he hated so much from before is gone. ]

...oh.

[ the syllable is faint, breathed out on a soft exhale that's almost on the verge of a nervous laugh. he won't giggle, damn it. but as flushed as he still is, he relaxes a little, slowly dragging his hand down from shiro's cheek to press the corner of that smile with his thumb. maybe the embarrassment is alright if it means he gets to look at shiro like this for a little bit. there's more that he should say to this, so much more than he knows how to put words to, but he lowers his gaze, leaning into hide a smile of his own in shiro's shoulder. ]

Good thing you're made of tough stuff then.

[ he doesn’t feel tough. strange, because he knows what he looks like to everyone else. he’s the record-breaking pilot who survived gladiator pits, amputation and experimentation, only to somehow pull himself together to spearhead the resistance and win back the black lion from zarkon’s meddling. not many people would survive that. heh, he didn’t either in the end. still the point stands -- his stubborn will to do what needs to be done is what has carried him through all these years. so is he tough? he supposes. but as it always seems to be the case when keith is involved, shiro’s carefully constructed perceptions tilt and take on different meanings.

give him a physical hurdle to throw himself over or lay out xyz for him to pick apart an’ formulate an attack plan around. that’s easy. mentally, emotionally dragging down his defenses though, he’s never been well-suited for honesty when it comes to himself. this here is about being open to the idea, no the fact that he wants something. something from keith. with keith? hell, he can’t even get the wording right; he’s backpedaling in his own head and it just strengthens the argument that he’s so far from tough in this situation.

unlike keith.

he’s kind of inspiring in that way. the thought holds as shiro relaxes in slow increments and sags more comfortably from the straight-rod fluster a moment ago. his hands keep as they are and he swallows audibly, mentally bolstering some levity so that it -- hopefully -- comes out in his voice. ]

Have to be.

[ it doesn’t quite hit the mark. there’s a hint of emotion in his voice, one that drags the usual, steady timber lower, adding a strained sort of hoarseness to it. keith is just -- he’s the tough one. the brave one. the one who can endure any situation thrown at him, whether that’s by design of an alien empire, a petulant god or shiro’s long trailing baggage. keith’s reckless, sure, but he’s strong in his daring nature and sometimes shiro thinks that somewhere along the way, he stopped being the teacher. more and more, shiro finds himself learning how to be more than the broken soldier he became, all of which is largely due to keith’s guidance and support in his unending campaign rightfully dubbed stop shiro from being a self-destructive moron.

amusement follows that thought. faint as it is, it still helps settle his nerves and he tips his head, resting his cheek on that mop of hair. briefly, he closes his eyes, holding onto the feeling just as he continues to hold onto keith. ]

I’ve gotta keep up with you.

[ better. that comes out lighter. happier. he doesn’t keep clinging to it though. eyes open and head lifts off keith’s. then he gives keith’s lower back a gentle, parting pat before resting his palm loosely at his waist. as for the hand in keith’s hair? it’s found its way to his rear delt, pressure light, neither pushing away nor keeping keith there against him. ]

⊚ noctium ic contact.

she can still be a ninja! she'll just be... round.

...I supppose they can compromise. Keith should get her a lil blade outfit

... tbh i want this to be a reality. i bet they could commission someone to make her one.

it would be pretty cute....

i'd laugh if keith's first and only network post is about finding someone to make a cat outfit

i want this to happen gdit

make it a reality. shiro fully supports this.

how is this the one thing they apparently agree on...

bc they're stupid...?

/o\

i hate shiro.

he deserves a spanking

whack him hard keet

and then kiss it better. one day.

yes. one day there will be kisses................... "one day"

this feels bad.

good luck.

that icon is STILL murdering me

i refuse to scroll up to ever see that icon again.

it's the best icon you should want to see it everywhere

no i hate it. just gimme more sheith icons.

you may get more depending on how this goes pfff

this is too much pressure

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