Keith (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
spaceassassin) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
logs2022-12-11 10:19 am
spaceassassin) wrote in logs2022-12-11 10:19 am
catch-all
WHO: Keith + "friends"
WHERE: The Netherworld...? LISTEN. All over.
WHEN: December
WHAT: Event shenanigans + other
WARNINGS: Language??
( ooc: if you'd like to do something with keith ( doesn't have to be event-related! ), feel free to PM, msg/add![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
sevenhelpings or wildcard your own! )
WHERE: The Netherworld...? LISTEN. All over.
WHEN: December
WHAT: Event shenanigans + other
WARNINGS: Language??
( ooc: if you'd like to do something with keith ( doesn't have to be event-related! ), feel free to PM, msg/add
SHIRO
but shiro’s game, so keith’s game. that’s how it works.
shiro, seemingly, has become distracted by some overly enthusiastic worker who is either dressed like one or is an elf. of the north pole variety. she plunks a hat on his head and it’s… terrible. keith, with his arms crossed on the table and his chin propped on his forearm, doesn’t even bother to muffle the snort. he should have, in hindsight, because his company only piques with interest. ]
You don’t have to keep following me, y’know. Whatever you say, I’m just gonna ignore you. Like the five who came before you.
[ it’s a problem. strike that. it’s an annoyance. one that is manageable through sheer stubbornness. it’s difficult to scowl when his gaze is still tracking shiro across the room, but keith tries anyway. see, he’s made the mistake of being caught under blasted mistletoe far too many times now. the first time happened with shiro, naturally, and god, it’s a wonder he didn’t learn his lesson from the terror those sprites wrought on their household. ]
Your eyes never stray from him. Don’t you wish to–
[ he tunes out the high-pitched jabber. he’s had far too many encouragements to kiss his best friend, not all of which having come from sprites. he just needs to wait this one out and – oh. it flutters off. just like that. like it wasn't in the middle of trying to convince him. the few who came before were like that. it's like an invisible timer goes off and they simply disengage. not that he's complaining. sighing now, the relief is short lived, because while quiet, this now means he is vulnerable for a reset.
new plan: start cataloging where every shred of mistletoe is in this place. ]
will a kiss finally happen like everyone basically suggested
⟪ it’s just so cozy. even in a world where death reigns, christmas has managed to seep through, and shiro finds it a little easier to breathe. not… literally, unfortunately, but it’s a soothing balm on his misfortunes, and he’ll gladly take the crumbs of the universe’s good will. it’s a bit pathetic, but the fight in him has drastically dwindled—he stays afloat because he has to, though the overall cheery atmosphere does make it more… encouraging, maybe, to count his blessings. however few they may be.
one of them is keith, somehow always willing to oblige. listen. for one, he needs a break from the sprites following him around. shiro’s had a couple so far, plus one giant, wide-mouthed thing he never wants to see again, but keith’s personal space is pretty tight, and it’s been invaded almost nonstop for a few days now. it’s one of the reasons why he decided to come here—aside from his own blatant excitement—a snug, warm evening with a belly full of delicacies, the fireplace’s flames just the perfect amount of light to make it all seem a little magical. it kind of is, with all that mistletoe sprouting out of nowhere, just like the small box secured in his back pocket, another reason for his impromptu outing.
just look at his hat. 100% worth it. ⟫
Cliffhanger? ⟪ shiro’s all smiles when he finally returns, a tease underlining the sprites’ last words as he sits down and pushes one of the mugs towards keith. don’t you wish to…? he didn’t quite catch what came before that, though he can only assume it added to keith’s annoyance, if his face’s any indication. sympathy flickers in shiro’s eyes, flames reflected; he looks up for good measure, though the ceiling is, so far, clear. ⟫ I think they’re starting to like you. ⟪ because how many has it been? a handful, at least? ⟫ Throwing mistletoe wherever you are, on purpose. Want a hat? You know… Go incognito.
naaaah, keith's got a lookout for mistletoe. they're safe...
shiro is magnetic as always, though, and it takes the barest effort for him to coax keith into peeking at him, a tentative smile tugging at his mouth. like him? like shiro. shiro’s attracted his own fair share, much to keith’s dismay. not that any of that is surprising. shiro attracts attention; sometimes good, sometimes bad, that’s what he does. hell, he has that hat on his head as direct evidence that he can’t go two minutes without drawing someone’s eye and intention.
it bothers him somewhat, because attracting attention is, in shiro’s case, usually synonymous with attracting trouble, but his mood is currently kept afloat by the lightness of shiro’s teasing and that ridiculous thing upon his head. no way is he letting shiro pawn that off on him. ]
I’ll take my chances with the Sprites. [ he grins slow and cheeky, cheeks still a touch pink; perhaps it can be attributed to the warmth of the room. in the spirit of christmas though, he should probably be a good friend and lie about that hat, huh? ] But uh… yours is nice? [ a pause and a short, barely there laugh underneath his breath. ] The ears are almost as big as yours. [ it’s entirely fond in delivery; that counts for something? ]
you sound very confident
⟪ he does attract trouble, doesn’t he. his best friend is a testament to that, trouble on two legs... with an aversion towards christmas hats, apparently. keith would rather deal with knaveries all day long and shiro feels personally attacked. wow... no, scratch that; he’s absolutely insulted, a gratuitous jab at his ears which have done nothing to deserve this!! come on now. they’re almost as perfect as the hat’s, and shiro feigns an offense he doesn’t feel, only to grin wide a second later. ⟫
Yeah? So you like ‘em huh. ⟪ his ears, that is, because just a moment before, he was complimenting the hat. nice, he said, clearly a comparison, and before keith turns a darker shade of pink, shiro finds a modicum of mercy in his heart, not wanting to put him on the spot. even for something as silly and inconsequential as this.
granted, it’s never 100% inconsequential for shiro, but that’s another story for another day. ⟫
Here. ⟪ he leans in, gently taps against keith’s mug. ⟫ Try your eggnog, and tell me it doesn’t taste like magic. ⟪ which is, basically, christmas in a nutshell for shiro. magic. face scrunched up, he brings his flesh hand closer to his face, thumb and index crooked and almost touching. ⟫ At least a little.
really? i never know what's going on
Magic…? Sounds like you’ve been sipping too much of this already.
[ keith’s had his fair share of food and drink that have come with a touch of magic. experience warns him to be wary, but if shiro’s going down, then keith is going down with him, because of course he isn’t going to spoil the joy written all over shiro’s face by turning his nose up. so, plucking the mug by the side opposite the handle, keith brings the rim close and tips it back for a gulp.
spice. cinnamon. nutmeg. a custardy thickness that is satisfying, he supposes, though a touch too sweet for his tastes. figures. shiro’s the sweet fiend here; of course anything deemed magical by him would taste like its most abundant ingredient is sugar.
he smacks his lips together, tongue working to taste the last remnants as he scrunches up his face, considering. ]
It tastes… like eggnog? [ he’s trying here. he gets how unhelpful that is, though, and laughs as he sets the mug back down on the table. ] A little better than the stuff they served at those dumb Garrison Galas. But I dunno if that makes it magical.
then keith is 100% the right char for u
⟪ listen. it’s not his fault he was given a free shot before he came back to their table—which, by the way, also tasted like magic. he’s not drunk. he’s just very merry, cheeks a little warmer than they should be, and he can’t blame it all on the alcohol in his belly. keith does try, in his very own keith fashion, and it’s so damn adorable shiro can’t help but laugh, a clear sound as his head briefly tilts backwards, adam’s apple steadily bobbing.
it tastes like eggnog. ⟫
Alright, alright. ⟪ you know. he’s not wrong, and he does shiro the courtesy of admitting it’s at least a little better than what they’re both used to. still tasted like magic back home though, but no matter: shiro’s gaze on him shines even brighter, if possible, unequivocally playful. ⟫ So our patron’s here’s a bit difficult to impress. ⟪ that’s keith, who typically doesn’t have a lot of fucks to give. it’s admirable, really, that nothing ever really managed to force him to completely conform. not even the magic of christmas.
shiro raises his own mug, savors the first mouthful and then swallows about ¾ of the eggnog. ⟫ Well. ⟪ he’s not out of tricks just yet. ⟫ I’ve got just the thing to blow him away. ⟪ he reaches back, fishes a small box out of his pocket, and grins cheeky as he pushes it towards keith. ⟫ Magic box. ⟪ bam. it’s nothing fancy; just a square box wrapped in silky red paper, flames reflected on its surface. ⟫ You gotta finish your mug before you can open it. ⟪ because, as you know. that’s how magic works. ⟫
i feel like this is an insult
oh.
first, he goes still and surprised, eyes wider as his gaze oscillates a handful of times between shiro and the box. then, the surprise softens into something sweeter, shyer, eyes distinctly more doe as warmth seems to emerge from somewhere within his chest, expanding so quickly through the rest of his body that he’s surely twinging pink in the face again. but then the moment lapses into another, one that has him realizing that his own back pocket is empty, as is his front pocket. all his pockets are empty, even the satchels on his belt.
oh no.
his mood doesn’t crash and burn, thankfully, but there’s a worried chew of his bottom lip, his expression tightening with preemptive apology. ]
I didn’t know we were exchanging. [ it’s been actual years since he celebrated the holiday, not that he was ever all that practiced at it when shiro roped him into the festivities back at the garrison. back then, it had largely been shiro giving him things, seeing as keith didn’t have the means to do much shopping. here, though, he’s got screamers and incentive and – ] I was – am gonna get you something. It’s just… not Christmas yet.
[ he thinks? what is time. ]
.................c:
⟪ no, no, no. magic fanatic. the hat was rebuffed. the eggnog, reluctantly accepted. he’ll find something else to ignite keith’s christmas spirit, but in the meantime, there’s another kind of magic just waiting for him to unwrap… though on second thought, it might have been a good idea to warn him first. keith’s face tightens pink (it’s a color), and shiro shakes his head, no, no, an apologetic frown as a breathy, semi-nervous laugh teases his lips. ⟫
We’re not! ⟪ exchanging. ⟫ It’s not. ⟪ christmas. yet. probably. it doesn’t matter because it’s not a christmas gift anyway.
he’s late. time is a pretty abstract notion around here, though if the harvest’s curse is any indication, he’d say they’ve reached autumn a little while ago. keith gained another year, uncelebrated. beyond the merry vibes of the season, that’s the main reason why he invited him here, a not-too-noisy pub with a warm ambiance, and enough privacy to enjoy himself. it’s the perfect contrast to all the horrors they’ve witnessed recently, and shiro takes a long, deep inhale, smiling sweet through an equally deep exhale. ⟫
Happy Birthday, Keith. ⟪ in the box, a star. just a piece, really, taken from the crash in the hinterlands. the tiny fiery creatures allowed him to leave with one somehow, and weeks later it’s still warm to the touch, faintly sparkling, an impossible rarity. just like keith. ⟫
8l
Oh.
[ but it’s – ]
But it’s…
[ okay. he needs to get that filter back in place and stop mumbling everything that comes to mind, especially because now he’s thinking birthdays are pretty useless when the supposed birthday boy is dead. sort of. it’s been months and he’s still not entirely sure whether he’s dead, alive, or something in between. do people age in the netherworld? to think, this will be his third birthday he’s spent in a place that doesn’t conform to the normal passage of time. it’s an exasperating thought, touched with the kind of humor necessary to soften the harsh edges of it, so while he doesn’t necessarily buy into the idea that he had a birthday, he smiles slow and sweet, touched that, at the very least, shiro is adamant the memory of it is worth celebrating.
he slides his hand over, gently skimming his fingers along the crisp line of the box’s wrapping. ] Heh… but I still gotta earn it by drinking the eggnog? [ annnnnd his hand is back to his mug, wrapping fingers to drag it toward himself. ] Don’t think gifts are meant to be given that way. [ but what does keith know? he hasn’t been to any birthday parties outside of the private hang-outs between him and shiro.
tease sufficiently spent, keith picks up his mug and goes through with it anyway. a couple seconds of his head tiled back and mug upturned; he drains the whole thing down, giving a quiet gasp as he comes up for air. a lick of his lips to swallow down the last of the sweetness and then he’s grinning wide and triumph, turning the mug toward shiro to show its missing contents. empty, see? aside from a tiny bit of eggnog stubbornly pooling at the bottom. ]
Does this pass the test?
ilu
⟪ THAT’S HOW MAGIC WORKS. which, of course, backfires pretty quickly because now the suspense is almost unbearable. shiro, if anything, is excited for two, like a kid, even though he has no gift to unwrap. all he needs is right here, warm-cheeked across the table and in a pretty decent mood, and that’s all he’s asking for. respite. and a happy keith.
…who isn’t one to back down from a challenge—or anything that vaguely sounds like one, anyway. it’s no surprise that he plays along, grin contagious as he shows off his empty mug. ⟫
I don’t make the rules… but I’m pretty sure it does. ⟪ congratulations, keets. you qualify for gift unwrapping! shiro takes the opportunity to down his own warm liquid in a couple of satisfactory gulps, briefly rubbing his belly with a goofy, content sigh before leaning in, forearms flat against the table’s surface. the way his eyes crinkle in the flamelight makes him look a little mischievous. ⟫
C’mon. Open it.
UH HUH
he’s almost sorry to tear the clean lines of the paper, but riiiiiip, there it goes, straight down one side. he pinches the box and tugs it free from the rest of the paper. off comes the lid and inside, amongst a crinkling of tissue, is – a rock? wait, no, not a rock. excited, oversharer restless have put up snapshots of this. the photos do it little justice, but keith’s spent a good amount of time looking the pictures over to recognize the color, the grain, the overall composition.
this is one of those star fragments, isn’t it?
years ago, keith mustered up the nerve to knock shiro’s shoulder and tell him to bring him back a space rock from his big fancy mission. he never did for obvious reasons. and when keith himself was up amongst the stars, he never thought to collect anything from their travels; his room remained empty of any personal touches. this isn’t kerberos and this isn’t voltron, but somehow, it feels like they’ve come full circle, like shiro’s made good on a promise anyone else would’ve forgotten. maybe it’s not even that; maybe keith’s being overly sentimental. still, his expression goes painstakingly vulnerable, his heartbeat loud in his ears as he stares, stares, stares…
slowly, he lifts his gaze to shiro, box still clasped in his hands… and then he abruptly kicks shiro’s shoe. ]
When’d you run off to get this? [ the grin breaks wide across his face, helping downplay the breathless wonder in his voice. ] And without me! [ he’s laughing, but seriously, what the hell, shiro?? ]
shhh just accept it
⟪ keith shot for the moon, landed among the stars, passed go and collected death. bringing back tangible souvenirs in the midst of war is the kind of sinister desire shiro never entertained, so no, he never did get him that space rock he asked for. his thoughts were otherwise occupied—as were keith’s when voltron rose again—but now… now, in spite of everything, he can… breathe. somewhat. it’s a different type of struggle, but he’s no stranger to survival; with keith by his side, he’s managed to find a modicum of reprieve, and in moments like this, he remembers all the what ifs he once believed in, and all the promises he made.
the smile keith cracks goes straight to shiro’s chest, blooming there, a fiery little thing. he doesn’t bother trying to evade that kick; instead he basks in keith’s obvious pleasure, grinning in kind as he wriggles his nose and feigns a nonchalant shrug. ⟫
Yeah, without you. Ever heard of surprises? ⟪ his foot finds his, gently kicking back as his grin widens just so. ⟫ Besides… you were busy scolding Lance. ⟪ after finding his meal half-eaten, which of course he blamed on lance. the fluffiest. the forsaken. his namesake is a thorn in keith’s side, though this is just an excuse; he would have gone without him regardless. ⟫
I know I’m a few years late, but… ⟪ two, three? shiro shrugs again, a little more self-conscious this time, bashful in the way his gaze wavers away and back again. ⟫ I was hoping to find something a little on the rarer side. ⟪ precious. which isn’t why it took him years—he died, war waged, and now he’s joke-deflecting—but a star fragment would have been impossible to collect before, so maybe it isn’t so bad that he… well. ran into obstacles. but here it is now. an actual space rock that should have been unattainable, and shiro’s gaze drastically softens as he fixes his gaze on keith, not the star, unblinking. ⟫ I think I found it.
>x
he huffs at the mention, but otherwise makes no comment. carefully now, he sets the box down on the table, both hands still framing each side of it, like he’s reluctant to let go to the thing. he’s yet to touch the star fragment itself, still a little too caught up in the awe of it to do something so simple and so obvious. it’s such a pretty thing; the room they’re in is dazzling, with it’s many, many hung lights that shine and glisten, catching on every reflective surface. they make the star fragment sparkle. or, is it better said – twinkle? he huffs again, softer, kinder, face still soft in his delight. ]
Overachiever. [ seems they’re going to be
playing footsiedoing this all night, because keith gives shiro another knock of his boot. ] Just had to set the bar so high.[ shiro’s just doing this so keith gets him something really exceptional for christmas, huh? the thought is playful, stabilizing even; it’s easier in a way, for him to make light of the gesture. otherwise, when he thinks of shiro specifically hunting down an item of such value to give to him for a pretend birthday, slash years-old, throwaway promise…
well. it makes him too warm. too happy. too everything that threatens to turn him into an awkward, shy mess. he does feel good though, the spike of alcohol in the eggnog already absorbing into his blood. his galran blood. he’s, unfortunately, a bit of a lightweight; he gets it from his mother. so the filter is down a touch and the carefulness of his expression is gone, his expressiveness too open in the way he looks at shiro. ]
You did good, Shiro. [ gentle eyes, gentle smile. ] You didn’t need to… but thanks. It means a lot that you remembered.
well look at that...
⟪ him!! overachiever!! never. but listen. the bar is keith, so yeah, it’s way up there. which also means that keith’s the only one to blame, however oblivious he may be. it’s a good thing he doesn’t catch on. shiro doesn’t necessarily mean to let his affection transpire—the portion of it that’s still a secret anyway—but it’s not an easy task when keith looks the way he does, gold-spun by flamelight and open. even his eyes, often dark with the faint markers of all things wild and feral, shine gentle, and shiro swallows through the thickness in his throat, touched by keith’s impromptu sentimentality and drowning in his own.
he blushes. he can feel it, exposed under keith’s innocent scrutiny. he plays off the awkwardness as smoothly as she can, snorting and then huffing on a small chuckle, fingertips lightly drumming against the tabletop. his foot doesn’t move away. ⟫
Eh, this old timer’s still got a sharp memory. ⟪ which is one of the very few things still working in his favor. it’s a half-truth, of course—the main reason being that keith means a lot to him, but. ⟫ You know, if— ⟪ it starts with a tickle. ⟫ If… ⟪ his voice trails off. he coughs. once. twice. clears his throat and coughs again, and just like that, he wheezes, leaning back and masking his face with the crook of his elbow until a pretty decent-sized tuft of green and red dislodges itself from his lungs and gushes out of his mouth.
he stills. wipes his chin and blinks up as the plant just magically floats towards the ceiling, just above the table. he frowns, teeth gritted; that dull gleam in his eyes, that’s casual spite. ⟫ Oh, come on.
oh... ig they aren't safe afterall
he forgets about the star fragment just like that. he’s up on his feet actually; hands having found the edge of the table to push, the sound of his chair’s legs strapping drowned out by shiro’s wheezing. he has no plan. he’s completely out of his element, despite all the practice he has with this. all he manages is a step closer (just the tiniest bit unsteady in the way he pitches heavier to one side, like he doesn’t grasp the concept of balance), hand reaching, ready to rub shiro’s back in what he hopes is conveyed as a soothing gesture.
but shiro’s coughing doesn’t subside as it has before. instead of a few petals, an entire bush comes out. and then… floats…?
oh.
oh no.
oh fuck.
and of course, keith is standing right next to shiro, hand still held out, hovering but not actually touching. he tips his head a little too far and pitch, his balance offsets again, the boy briefly scuttling back a step, that hovering hand finally landing to grab shiro’s shoulder. it keeps him on his feet, but not upright; he bows forward in his recover, burying his face into his free hand. ]
Not this again. We barely survived the last time. [ huff, sigh – ] Shiro.
THE FATES HAVE DECIDED!!!!
⟪ he can’t decide whether keith’s begging for his help or accusing him. maybe both. it’s not his fault… but then again, it kind of is. shiro, he huffs, and shiro would apologize, honest! he’s just too busy twisting around as keith’s hand lands on his shoulder, his own finding the small of his back as he quickly rises to his feet. it’s unlike him to lose his balance. the extra crutch seems necessary, instinctively offered—he’s a little tipsy, isn’t he. exasperated, too, and a tad dramatic.
peeking out from behind two doorjambs, eyes. four, to be precise, glistening and staring with clear intent as a couple of flowery-haired heads form in the shadows. the sprites. calculating. waiting. judging. ⟫ Come on, guys. ⟪ eyebrows raised in frustration, shiro sighs and rakes metal fingers through his hair, a fistful of black strands. ⟫ Give us some slack. Please.
⟪ 24 hours of them, again, is probably enough to ruin the christmas vibe. unfortunately, slack is a bit of a foreign notion, if the way they look at each other and then shrug is any indication. honor the gods, they insist in unison, fully visible now as they cautiously approach, and shiro swiftly lets go of his hair, palm open towards them. stop. ⟫ We don’t mean any disrespect. Our customs are just different.
honor the gods!
…The gods I’ve just coughed up. Hellooo!
blasphemy! disgrace! deny us and pay the price!
⟪ nostrils flare, the bridge of his nose now pinched between two fingers. his free hand is essentially trying to choke the bottom of keith’s shirt at this point, maybe wishing it could wrap itself around a sprite’s neck. he sighs again, shoulders slightly slumped as he tips his head towards keith, looking just short of miserable. ⟫ So much for the magic of Christmas huh.
THEY COULD STILL ESCAPE THIS
he keeps his position, even though there’s really no need for it anymore. his legs have found their balance and while a touch floaty in perception, he’s fine. still, he feels the deathgrip shiro has on his shirt and delays in taking that away from him, instead swaying the tiniest fraction closer into the bend of shiro’s elbow.
now, keith is still very much of the mind that christmas, for all its perceived merriment and wonder, is a slew of festivities that keith has no real fondness for. but he’s fond of shiro. and if this holiday is ruined in any way for his best friend because of these blasted sprites… ]
We could just… [ somewhere in the span of him looking at shiro – shoulders slumped, head bowed, hat slightly askew from all his hair tugging – keith has reached up to fix that dumb hat, tugging it by those big, doopey ears to set it right. three words in and he seems to come to, realizing what he’s doing. he pulls his hands back, briefly locking closed fists to his own chest.
ooooooh.
the cooing of their audience draws keith’s gaze, hands dropping down. they’re lounging on the petals of the poinsettia, eyes bright and approving at their proximity. their approval rubs keith the wrong way; it feels like losing to give into them. but in the same vein, it also feels like losing to pull away…? before he can rethink it, he rushes through what he’d started to say before. ]
We’ve done it before and it wasn’t so bad. [ in fact, if keith were bolder, he’s say it wasn’t bad at all, except for the fact that it hadn’t worked as a cure to shiro’s shrinking. even with the alcohol working through him, he isn’t quite there yet in his inhibitions. ] Uhm… better than having them tail us for the next however long?
LOOOOOOOOOOOOOL no
⟪ it wasn’t so bad…………..ouch. and it wasn’t even a kiss on the lips! color shiro vaguely hurt, though he’s too busy watching keith withdraw like he’s been burnt to feel the barely-there sting of his casual remark. it’s funny how he doesn’t always notice their proximity, physical or otherwise. like his space is keith’s space, and vice versa. it’s nothing that ever was discussed, either, just another facet of the natural order of them.
there’s a bit of a disturbance in said order. shiro blinks, faintly agape, gaze going from keith to the sprites—creepily expectant—and back again. arguing or reasoning with them is clearly pointless, though keith’s suggestion is not. the way he mentally acquiesces without a second thought is a light shade of red dusting his cheeks, the scar across his nose seemingly brighter… but in his defense, he doesn’t quite picture them lip-locked. not yet, anyway. keith went for his forehead, the first time around—which was still enough to ruin him, mind you—and technically… well. a kiss is a kiss.
shiro’s grip loosens, annoyance forgotten. he shoots keith a glance he hopes doesn’t look as awkward as he feels, agreeing with a slow nod and a tiny chuckle, his breath silently rushing out of his lungs. ⟫ Definitely better. ⟪ he’d rather not wake up with eyes on his arm again, or feel like his skin’s reached its melting point. truth be told, he’d really just rather kiss keith, period, but keith doesn’t need to know that.
it’s a luxury he’ll allow himself only because keith offered, and because he doesn’t mean to kiss him on the lips. instead he takes a small step back, fingertips grazing keith’s waist as they seek his hand. there’s no point making a show of it, though his pulse does quicken as he slowly grabs and pulls, using his metal hand to very gently remove keith's glove. it's just as gently discarded, lying useless on the table as shiro returns his attention to keith, thumb lightly brushing against his knucles—as if to ask permission. shiro’s a gentleman! ⟫
On three. ⟪ one. two. he brings his hand higher up, closer to his face as he peeks through lowered lashes and closes his eyes. three. delicately he presses his lips to the top of keith’s hand, back bent. maybe he’ll ask him for a dance next. ⟫
this is all v platonic
even inside a packed room with a lit fire, there is a slight chill to the netherworld that never quite dissipates. lately, everything and everyone seem to run colder. it doesn’t bother keith all that much; he adapts easily in even the most trying of circumstances. but here, when, from one moment to the next, he has a direct comparison, he notices. he’s warmer, instantly. not just in the face – though, the fair skin from cheek to cheek is so badly equipped to hide the rosiness – but throughout: belly, chest, fingers, toes. it’s climbing up his throat and he’s dizzy, again, free hand reaching to grasp shiro’s god awful sweater, there at his shoulder. easy to each, given how deep shiro bends.
soulmates are meant to chase away shadows. are they able to warm their partners, too? maybe it isn’t a side effect of the bond at all. maybe it’s simply shiro. he feels silly for thinking it, though he isn’t quite sure why; shiro is the embodiment of warmth and kindness.
he is, unfortunately, less effective in other ways it seems. kiss sufficiently dispensed, shiro straightens up ( gayly ) and keith, struck-mute, simply tracks him with his eyes, each a touch wider than their normal set. but then shiro hits the limit of his height and with the movement ended, awareness jogs in keith’s brain. abruptly, he blinks the strain from his eyes and shoots a look to the sprites still clogging up their centerpiece. ]
So – there. [ fuck, is that his voice? why does he sound out of breath? he clucks his tongue, lips twisting on a sneer that ends up far closer to a pout. ] We honored the Gods. You can leave now; scram.
[ shiro is, for one reason or another, still holding keith’s ungloved hand. weird? maybe. it doesn’t bother keith enough to pull away.
mocking the gods.
fools, you are.
honor the gods with a true kiss!
… good god, did they rehearse that? one starts, the second chimes in, and then they finish together, voices blending perfectly. it’d be impressive, if it weren’t so upsetting. embarrassed and put on the spot, keith reacts as anyone would expect: exasperatedly and… not fully understanding the nuances, either. ]
What are you even talking about? Shiro’s kiss wasn’t fake!
yeah i see zero feelings there
⟪ mocking the gods… if shiro were hurt before, consider him now thoroughly defeated. what’s with this place and kisses. is he not worthy of a simple smooch?? could be why his love life has always been a disaster, and here it is, mocking him, persisting in death. keith, fortunately, doesn’t get it. of course it wasn’t fake. it just wasn’t… you know. a kiss kiss, which barely crossed his mind, at least until now. it was there. prowling the back of his head. it’s stepped out of the shadows to take its rightful-yet-inappropriate place at the forefront of his thoughts, and shiro sucks his teeth and bites his tongue, a tremor in his arm. the one that’s still connected to keith. ⟫
Uhm, Keith… ⟪ how to put this. honestly, he could just let it go. endure whatever they’ve got in store for them and make a point not to cough up mistletoe again anywhere near him. anywhere at all. but he’s a little miffed. stung still, and pink-cheeked from the way keith looked. gorgeous. he can’t pinpoint what he saw in his eyes—wishful thinking has him half-believing it was awe, or at least a modicum of delight—but he’d give just about anything to catch it again.
it’s not that he wants to kiss him—scratch that, it is. the want is there. the intent, not so much. it feels like taking advantage still, especially when keith is so oblivious to the obvious. so he gives a little shrug, smiling both apologetic and bashful. ⟫ They mean the kind of kiss that’d wake Sleeping Beauty from her slumber. ⟪ which is definitely one of the movies keith caught him watching, once upon a
dreamtime. ⟫ So I guess we’re in for another fun day.shiro you're like a brother to me...
ah, fuck.
another twenty-four hours of – what will it be this time? will something top the ashen food he’d been made to endure with a forked tongue? nevermind him, actually; what will shiro suffer through? the first time they'd been ambushed under mistletoe, keith had been clueless to the nefarious nature of the sprites. naively, he'd thought leaving was the better option. but now…
hesitantly, he lifts his gaze back to shiro, looking at him there, with his messy floof and obnoxious hat, body language so different from the joyous merriment of some minutes ago. how much of shiro’s christmas magic is being spoiled because of this? contemplative on that, keith’s neutral expression keeps for one, two, and then he begins to slide toward a shyness that comes across more awkward than anything. ]
Or we could… [ nonchalance doesn’t suit keith. he tries for it, but the line of his shoulders is off-kilter, like he can’t decide if he wants to play things off with a shrug or if he wants to huddle them in. throughout, his gaze flitters around, never staying in one spot too long. ]
I won’t be any good at it. I’ve never… [ whatever. his twenty-something these days and hasn’t been with anyone, big deal. except, it might be a big deal if shiro finds him too pathetic to endure. he gets snagged on the thought and with it, abruptly, brings his gaze back to shiro. ]
But that’s okay…? [ he can’t be that miserable of a kiss. ] Right?
i'm yeLLING
⟪ shiro probably started shaking his head the moment keith started hinting at them kissing each other. hinting at wanting them to kiss each other. he’s never been kissed before. he’s never been kissed before, and the one thing he’s worried about—in the face of two mischievous sprites threatening to make their unlife a living hell—is messing up and displeasing shiro. it’s surreal. as surreal as the offer sounds, a prickle of panic and something else bubbling in his chest, warm and harsh and airy. ⟫
No! ⟪ the earnestness with which he blurts out an answer immediately causes the sprites to hiss, ready to pounce. shiro’s not having it, abruptly glancing their way with a curt sweep of his free arm. ⟫ Just give us a fuc— ⟪ mouth snaps closed. he screws his eyes shut against what’s probably an oncoming headache, willing his tone to soften. ⟫ Give us a moment. Please. ⟪ he’s just short of begging at this point, lest he allows keith to believe something he doesn’t mean.
pause. rewind. shiro sighs weary, head heavier between his shoulders before he fixes keith with a much gentler stare. ⟫ I mean, yeah. Of course it’d be okay. ⟪ he can’t imagine a world in which it wouldn’t be okay, but now that the possibility is suddenly very real, another reality occurs to him, which essentially prompted his initial refusal. it’s probably what should bother keith, if nothing else, and shiro, eyes wide and somber, offers a sad smile that doesn’t last, replaced instead by a more solemn air, almost grave. ⟫ But… Keith. ⟪ he pulls at his hand, idly, slightly, looking frank and vaguely mortified into his eyes. he blows out his cheeks, and… ⟫ I can’t… steal your first kiss.
someone pls inform keith that he needs diff terminology
ouch.
keith’s anxiety skyrockets, so fast and so high that he doesn’t allow himself any sort of slack to find shiro’s slip in diplomacy amusing. fuc– what was that, shiro? he gives his hand, still trapped between shiro’s fingers, a gentle, testing tug, wanting to slip away, but almost too hesitant to upset anything here more than he just did.
the berating stops. the frustration lapses. soon, shiro is looking to him and keith fidgets, the only reason his own gaze doesn’t shy away due to sheer stubbornness. and perhaps, some grim curiosity, as well. shiro says it’d be okay. keith doesn’t buy it, not when shiro’s kneejerk reaction was so vehemently no. he tugs though and keith, being a touch hopeless when it comes to his best friend, shifts marginally closer with that pull, not at all understanding, but willing.
– steal? is that what this is about? keith frowns, still not quite understanding this to the point of being able to accept it. ]
You're not stealing anything. [ he’s taking it too literally, the nuances of consent lost on him. ] I offered. [ duh? which is why the frown keeps, as does the suspicion that shiro is offering up niceties to soften the truth. ] But if you don't want to kiss me, it's fine. You can say so.
[ he’d rather shiro be honest, honestly. ]
KEITH PLS
⟪ oh. oh no. keith, in all his literal glory, figures the worst possible rationale and shiro’s panic is back on full blast, matching keith’s discomfiture. it’s never a good sign. he’s a bit like an oyster, snapped shut to protect himself, from shiro, which is probably #1 on the top five list of all the things he hates. how do you even backtrack from here, without spilling forbidden beans. you don’t. you just pull through, leaning in to crowd a space you definitely shouldn’t be crowding, and ruefully squeeze your friend’s shoulder. ⟫
I do want to kiss you. ⟪ uhm. okay. it isn’t exactly what he means—but it is exactly what he means—immediately earning ooooh’s and ahhh’s from their tiny audience. his jaw tightens, rehinged with an audible click as a splash of crimson gradually spreads across his face, momentarily frozen in flustered disgrace. c’mon, shiro. with a desperate groan, he lets go of keith’s shoulder to nervously rub the side of his own face, and then his forehead. ⟫
What I mean is… Keith. ⟪ and he huffs through his nose, a questioning crease between his brows. ⟫ This is going to be your first kiss. Won’t you regret it? ⟪ which is what he’s trying to stress here, because it’s kind of a big deal. shiro’s imposter syndrome is well-established already; he’s not sure there’s much room left to hate himself a little more. ⟫ Somewhere down the line, when you meet a nice girl and think back on this… ⟪ and resent him for taking what should have been shared out of mutual love. ⟫
he's got this
he hates this. truly, he hates this.
so he tries to figure it out as best – and as quickly – as he can. tough luck, really, because now shiro’s asking about regret and keith can only squint, once again stuck on the fact that the suggestion came from himself. and – wait, what? why is he meeting a nice girl…? what does that have to do with mistletoe, creepy sprites, and kissing his best friend?
give him a second; maybe if he talks it through it’ll make some semblance of sense. cue the slowed down speech, voice hesitant in delivery and altogether questioning. ]
So… it’s because it’s my first that you’re acting like this. [ he’s not actually asking. he doesn’t wait for any sort of confirmation; the answer is abundantly clear. the next logical step is to sus out why his first matters in shiro’s opinion, so they can work around that, but keith doesn’t have shiro’s patience. circling around mixed signals doesn’t work for keith; he’s a results kind of boy and so: ] But if it wasn’t going to be my first…
[ in the following beat, the pinch to his assessing expression doesn’t let up but understanding brightens his gaze. he can work with this. ]
Alright. I think I get it.
[ they have to appease the sprites if keith wants to save shiro from a day full of spritely horrors, which it goes without saying that he does want that. appeasing them means kissing shiro, who is apparently wanting but hesitant. because it’s a first kiss. solution? if shiro can’t deal with being first, he can be second. keith turns his head, glancing to the right. he’s on a mission, sure, but he’s not so bold as to just walk up to someone unsolicited for a throwaway kiss. but mistletoe is everywhere and fancy that, there’s a nice girl about to be caught under one. ]
Wait here. I’ll be right back. [ annnnd keith steps away, the sprites hissing in displeasure. you dare walk away from honoring the–. ] I gotta honor the Gods over there and then I’ll honor them over here. Just – wait.
[ bye. ]
......WHAT IS GOING ON LMAO
as if you didn't know