birthday boy is a drunk boy

[earthshine]

[ happy birthday to him.

it isn’t a leap year. so technically? it isn’t his birthday. as a leap year baby, he is afforded the unique privilege of picking the day his age ticks up. february twenty-eighth or march first, ho de hum, which works better? this year, he goes with march first, because it lands on a saturday. there is no guarantee that celebrating a day earlier would have changed anything, but now, at seven fifty-five in the evening, shiro wonders if, maybe, fresh from a full day of teaching and training, adam would have been more apt to overlook his grievances and stick to the plan of getting off base for a nice, celebratory meal.

for all shiro knows, maybe adam has left galaxy garrison. a reservation for two can easily be cut down to one. what shiro does know, though, is that adam will not be sleeping over tonight, because even on the off chance that the anger subsides and remorse, pity, obligation, whichever has him returning for his fiancé's birthday, once adam sees that shiro has drained directly into his belly the expensive cabernet adam bought for a bedroom toast, the anger will come right back. shiro only knows it’s expensive because adam made a point to express how a higher price tag, obviously, means higher quality. and adam was intent on making sure shiro’s first sip of alcohol would be memorable.

well, it certainly has become memorable, despite it being quite different than either of them anticipated.

it’s okay, though. shiro may have started the night’s festivities on his own, but he isn’t alone. keith is here.

please come ovre
needvyou
im dying

not the greatest of executions, but his botched texting yielded the desired result: keith racing over here. his best friend is far more gracious than his fiancé; keith didn’t even reprimand him for the exaggeration or its subsequent stress.

no. keith has been good and keith has been kind, rubbing at shiro’s back every time shiro leans into the toilet bowl. thankfully, shiro hasn’t actually been sick yet. when the inevitable purging happens, though, there’s already a glass of water waiting for him nearby. keith, angel that he is, thought to get it for him.

oh.
wait.
maybe he’ll need it in a second.
he kind of feels like
he might –
he’s gonna –


false alarm.

shiro rests his cheek on the toilet rim, too nauseous to bother thinking of how disgusting that is. his eyelids rest low, lashes feeling heavy as he breathes through the upset feeling that builds and builds, before receding just as quickly, his system seemingly indecisive of how it plans to handle his over indulgence. he probably shouldn’t have gotten into the champagne bottle, either, huh? at least that one is still mostly full, open and left on the kitchen bar. ]

You’re a good friend, Keef. [ he pauses, wrinkling his nose. ] Keith.

[ better; his triumphant smile says as much. ]

The best of all friends. [ head lolls to squish his cheek harder to dirty porcelain, gaze lifting. it’s then that he… tries to focus hazy eyes on keith’s face. it’s difficult. ] Galaxy Garrison should give you a medal.

Comments

[marmoron]

[ despite the vaguely hostile opinions keith has about adam, he has to admit that the guy probably wasn't an outright threat to shiro's safety. now that he's with shiro and it's become abundantly clear that im dying had been a gross exaggeration of facts, keith has to begrudgingly demote adam from potential murderer back to jerk.

listen, can keith truly be blamed for jumping to that conclusion? all keith knows is that when he left shiro's apartment earlier, his best friend was whole, happy and eager to eat his cake later. now, shiro isn't dying, but he's alone with just an empty bottle of wine for company on his birthday and is busy plastering his cheek to the toilet seat.

the sight is absurd enough that it teeters on amusing, but keith's annoyance with adam's absence today of all days keeps him a little too grounded for amusement.
frowning, keith puts his hand on a shoulder, grip firm as he squeezes and tries to pull shiro away from the toilet. ]

That's gross, Shiro.

[ a beat, then very hastily: ]

Your face on the toilet, not the medal. I like the sound of the medal. [ he snorts, then scoots closer. ] You should put your head on my shoulder if you need a place to rest it. I don't mind.

[earthshine]

[ gross? how? okay, no, shiro gets that. some of the ribbons are pretty gaudy. and when the uniform jacket is full of them? yeesh, the color scheme can become a clusterfuck of colors. shiro doesn’t have this problem yet. shiro rather likes his dress uniform’s little line of ribbons: air and space achievement, space force good conduct ribbon, distinguished flying cross, air and space training ribbon. he’d really like to be awarded the congressional space medal of honor someday; that medal is the furthest from gross.

your face on the toilet, not the medal.

… oh. okay. that makes more sense, especially given the way keith is pulling at his shoulder. a scoot closer allows keith more leverage and in the next moment, shiro’s stubborn deadweight actually moves. one second he’s squish faced to the toilet rim and in the next, he lurches toward the very willing recipient. given the current state of his faculties, the flop is uncoordinated. it lands with a messy crash, resulting in shiro bent over and craning his head low enough to rest his dirty cheek to keith’s shoulder.

wait. he’s looking the wrong way.

he turns his head, dragging his nose across keith’s shoulder and then plopping his opposite cheek down so that he’s now facing the very close face of one keith yeehawson. on one hand, it’s a nice vantage point to see his favorite person. on the other, though…? ]

My neck. [ the distinct whine to his voice is embarrassing. or would be, if shiro’s ability to feel shame wasn’t drowned in copious amounts of wine. ] It’s like… broken, ‘cause you’re so small.

[ keith’s height is in his legs; his very long legs that seemingly become longer every day. this boy is still considerably smaller than shiro when they are standing side by side, but it’s worse when they’re sitting together. keith’s torso comes up short and as such, that petite shoulder requires quite the duck. no amount of hunching low makes the angle of his neck acceptable. ]

I already knew that, though, y’know? [ chattering away even as his neck remains at nearly ninety. ] I always think it every time we hug.

[ there are types of drunks. shiro, being the responsible type, has never put much thought into what type he would be, because up until now, it has never been an option. even now, the expectation for tonight had never included him becoming an inebriated fool. nothing has been going according to plan, however, so this is his unexpected enlightenment of the night: he is an affectionate drunk. a handsy drunk.

at the toilet bowl, he’d been too preoccupied. but now? with keith right there? arms wrapping and hands grasping, shiro becomes the human version of a limpet. good luck shaking him off. ]

I like thinking it, so we should hug more often. Like right now, ‘cause you owe me twenty-one of ‘em for my birthday.

[ … is it hugs? or is it spanks? ]

[marmoron]

[ it's an instant relief that shiro gives up clinging to the toilet without fuss. not that hygiene is necessarily keith's biggest concern at all times, but still. a sober shiro would want an intervention, right?

so easy goes the transference of weight, and keith just gets to thinking that this heavy leaning isn't so bad when --

my neck. it's like... broken

never mind the fact that shiro's tendency to exaggerate when inebriated has been well established at this point, or the improbability of anyone with a freshly broken neck doing much talking at all, of course keith's blood pressure spikes. he's never taken care of a drunk person, let alone a drunk friend before, and fuck if he knows what to expect from this. his hand shoots up immediately, cradling the back of shiro's head like that might help an inexplicable neck injury only to blink hard.

cause you're so small. ]

Oh.

[ no longer alarmed but still flooded with adrenaline, the sound comes out equal parts sheepish and disoriented. not that shiro hears. in fact, shiro definitely doesn't hear because he continues to ramble on, strong arms coming to wind tight around keith as the subject shifts from broken necks to hugs.

however keith is meant to respond to this stream of consciousness pouring out of his best friend, he's pretty sure he isn't supposed to be blushing. it's just -- yeah, he's finally shot up a couple of inches, but save for a miracle it doesn't look like he's ever going to cut a tall, imposing figure.

nothing about being small is appealing, but when shiro says he likes it... of course that puts a dagger in keith's feelings on the subject. thoroughly derailed from his initial thoughts about what a sober shiro would want, keith swallows hard, gently pressing his palm to his hair, and lets out a breathy laugh. ]

It does feel really nice hugging you. You're like a giant blanket. [ a beat. ] A giant muscley blanket. [ ... ] Uh, I think that came out wrong. I just mean..I like how we fit together. So...

[ so. they should hug right now? keithlifts his other arm, and starts to drape it around shiro's back, but pauses. ]

But maybe you'd be more comfy lying down? I don't want your neck to hurt.

[earthshine]

[ a giant muscley blanket… heh, that’s funny. usually keith is the blanket in this friendship of theirs. well, okay, not usually, but there was the christmas break in which keith didn’t use the pull-out sleeper. a twin bed really, truly is far too small for the both of them to sleep side by side… but if they stack – they tested that out for a few nights, all concluding without a single complaint.

i like how we fit together. so…

shiro hums, altogether happy and relaxed in this precise moment, despite the angle of his neck and despite the reason he’s on the bathroom floor to begin with. every negative has a positive, keeping him mellow and unworried. adam is gone, but keith is here. his stomach is unsettled, but nestled close, he catches a whiff of desert rain and feels calmer with every breath. shiro’s birthday is rapidly passing by, but that only means he’ll be getting his twenty-one hugs soon, which, by the direction of keith’s arm, shiro can only assume he’ll be getting in three, two, one –

but maybe you’d be more comfy lying down?

his slushed brain doesn’t recognize disappointment in the one-two shuffle of his thoughts and by the next – slow, very slow – blink of his eyes, shiro forgets about an unexecuted hug and only thinks of how sweet keith is to care. scratch that; he doesn’t just think it. he says it, too. ]

So thoughtful. You always have my back… and my neck.

[ he moves throughout the bumble of words: head lifts, neck straightens, shoulders roll. when keith says lying down, that technically doesn’t translate into an offer of his lap. that is, of course, what shiro hears, though. so when he curls on the floor, it’s with a crowding of keith’s space, right into the entirety of his lap. ]

You’re the best of all fri–wait. [ he pauses mid-nuzzle of his cheek into the pillowy cushion of keith’s thigh. a nose wrinkling and a perplexed eye squint later – ] I already said that.

[ a new compliment; he needs a new very nice, very accurate, very deserving compliment for his “best of all friends” friend. ]

You’re comfy. [ an observation he will be punctuating by finishing off that nuzzle. satisfied, he settles down and stills, only tilting his head enough to send his gaze up toward keith’s eyes. ] Are you comfy?

[ with him. like this. ]

[marmoron]

[ considering how nauseated shiro must be feeling, lying down probably isn't the best course of action. health and wellness class mentioned something about making sure people don't choke on their vomit when they're intoxicated, right? but it's okay because keith will be here making sure his best friend is safe. all night if need be.

but before the plan to help his best friend up and over to his bed, shiro starts to shift and seemingly in the blink of an eye gets his head nestled on keith's leg.

forgetting to breathe, keith stares for a long moment, mouth slightly agape as shiro fucking nuzzles his thigh. they've been even closer before, so this shouldn't stand out as much, and yet it hits differently all the same. they could be like this all the time. shiro could text keith for help, lean on him, and smile at him and keith wouldn't have to be pissed at adam's repeated failures to do right by his best friend. they could depend on each other, and maybe... maybe they could make each other whole.

hell. shiro already does that for keith. it takes seemingly no effort on his part to make keith's heart go into funny sop-start rhythms, and it isn't fair. it isn't fair that keith has to second-guess the desire to touch shiro's face out of concern that the asshole who abandoned shiro on his birthday might be upset about it later.

a beat turns into three and finally keith lets out a held breath and boldly cards his fingers through shiro's floof, brushing it back with a shy smile. ]

I'm so comfy. [ that's not true. hard bathroom tiles aren't exactly known for comfort, but what is true is: ] How can I not be when I've got you?

[ heh. keith lets out a huffed laugh, as he gently rubs shiro's scalp. ]

You should've called me sooner, big guy. Your birthday is way too important to be spending it drinking alone. You're way too important. [ a beat, then keith gives his floof a playful, reprimanding tug. ] You're my best friend, too, Shiro.

[earthshine]

[ shiro wasn’t lying with that drunken mumble about keith being comfortable enough to pass as a pillow. shiro will, however, be made a liar if he is questioned in a few minutes time, because while keith is warm and accommodating, the bathroom floor is not. given shiro’s hasty reshuffling, he’s situated himself on his side. the tile has no give and neither does his body from hip to shoulder, both weighing hard into pressure points that will become a nuisance. it’s fine, he thinks once and closes his eyes, giving himself over to the feel of fingers slipping into his hair, curling through a raking pull that straightens out whatever beginning tangles that are hidden in there.

how can i not be when i’ve got you?

head propped on keith’s thigh actually simulates the same problem as before: his neck is at an angle. one that isn’t quite as harsh, but he feels it nonetheless as he opens his eyes and readjusts to look to keith’s face once more. he smiles even as his lashes flutter with a blatant shiver that courses through him, curled body curling further at the knees and head craning into the catch of keith’s nails. too short, come back, come back – those fingers move on to a tug and… okay, it isn’t the same, deeply satisfying feeling, but the playfulness of the action gets shiro in other ways.

up go the sides of his mouth and so does his hand. he reaches and grabs, squeezing keith’s hip and then holding on as he laughs in a way that is just a little too long. ]

If I’d called you earlier, you would’ve tried to get me to share my wine.

[ which, one way or another, would have prevented shiro from downing the whole thing himself, so perhaps keith is onto something. shiro knows the true result of that one way or another, though. if keith had asked, here, in the privacy of shiro’s apartment, with no classes tomorrow for anyone to be made the wiser… ]

And it would’ve worked.

[ to a degree. no, he wouldn’t encourage keith going his chosen route of becoming entirely sloshed, but – ]

I like breaking rules with you. [ maybe one tiny glass of rule breaking, fuck the rules, i-do-what-i-want, underaged drinking to commemorate shiro’s twenty-first birthday. ] Nothing is more exphil… exhill-uh… [ alright, so apparently he can’t say exhilarating all that well without a slur completely derailing it. time to opt in a similar word. ] – fun than that.

[ nailed it. now for a pause of consideration, his lips pursing before relaxing for an afterthought sort of: ]

Except flying, I guess.

[marmoron]

[ attention directed to the empty wine bottle abandoned by the toilet, keith gives it a curious glance. partying was never all that appealing, so his exposure to alcohol and other party drugs has been fairly limited outside of what some of the older kids in the group home might sneak in. despite that, he can't deny that there is an appeal to having a forbidden glug of wine with shiro -- if only because it's shiro.

evidently, they're on the same wavelength on that one. i like breaking rules with you. keith grins, focus snapping back to shiro only for the mischief to melt into endearment as his best friend fumbles his words. grip loosening, keith goes back to running fingers through shiro's scalp with a soft smile. ]

Rulebreaking and flying, huh.

[ it's hard to rank favorite activities when every activity is made immeasurably more enjoyable for having shiro in it, but that's a ridiculous thing to say. keith huffs, self-conscious and freshly pink for a beat, before getting enough of a grip to respond. ]

I could take you flying right now. Not far though -- just to bed.

[ bringing his free hand up to cover the one on his hip, keith holds it there for a luxuriously extended beat before giving it a tap. ]

You'd just have to sit up for me.

[earthshine]

[ for a boy who is earnest and obvious in his concern for shiro’s compromised state of being… keith sure enjoys making shiro move about. don’t rest against the toilet, lean against me, try lying down instead, no wait… sit up for me now. if shiro could see straight, he’d find the never ending up, down, move around far more amusing. not that he holds any fault against keith. no. in fact, there isn’t hesitation in his obedience, because wow, what? keith is going to take him flying? nevermind how that makes zero sense; the span of hall between this bathroom and shiro’s bedroom is minimal distance wise and considerably too narrow to adequately fit a hoverbike that keith is not miraculously hiding within his pants.

still. flying. keith is going to, somehow, take him flying.

so no, there is no hesitation. there is, however, a delay, one completely attributed to his roiling stomach and empty, floaty head. slowed, he sits up… and not at all simply. he crawls up, meaning that with that recently released hand, he grasps higher to pull at keith’s shirt. up a few inches and then his other hand is from the floor to keith’s thigh. it’s unnecessary and sloppy how he practically climbs keith into a sitting position, but it’s how he manages and how he ends up not just sitting, but leaning heavily onto keith, one arm slung over the boy’s shoulder.

he breathes deeply, like that actually took effort, and then mumbles right there, scant inches from keith’s ear. ]

‘Kay. Ready. Take me flying.

[marmoron]

[the way shiro labors through his movements is worrying -- of course it is. vulnerable isn't a word that suis his best friend, but that's what he is right now. that being the case, keith is all the more determined to make sure shiro is well taken care of, and that can't mean leaving him curled up on the bathroom floor when his soft bed is only a room away.

supporting shiro's journey upright as best he can with a hand here and a generous lean there, keith finds himself smiling when shiro exhales heavily and slurs some more. no questions about what keith even means by flying, just trust. the thought warms his chest, only thawing slightly as keith gets one arm looped under shiro's knees and the other supporting his upper back.

the evening is getting away from him, huh. keith hasn't thought through a single plan beyond a) getting to shiro's place asap and b) fetching him a glass of water. everything else has been lean, lie, sit, and now he's left to wonder alone if he's going to be able to carry shiro like this. shiro and his significantly heftier frame and --

‘kay. ready. take me flying.

-- and somehow every lesson shiro had given him about proper stances to avoid lifting injuries at the gym doesn't matter. or well, they do? but not nearly as much as being able to fulfil this one promise. ]

Okay. [ keith lets out a puff of breath, getting up into a squat. getting his arms positioned more securely, he grins. ] Ready? [ is keith himself ready?? ] 3. 2. 1 -- Lift off.

[ summoning all the strength he has, keith grunts and heaves... only to find the weight isn't so bad after all. thoroughly config as that is, the feeling quickly gives way to that word shiro was having trouble with before. he beams, laughs and takes his first step towards the open door.]

Holy shit! Guess your gym lessons have really paid off!

[ though perhaps not in a way that should be tested for long. keith's steps are faster now as he clears the door and enters the hallway. ]

Activating thrusters. ETA thirty seconds.

[ it's less than that actually. a few quick steps and keith clears shiro's bedroom door and panting a little, lurches forward to lower his best friend onto the mattress. head hung, he stays hunched over shiro while catching his breath. ]

Heh. How'zat?

[earthshine]

[ shiro isn’t sure what he’s ready for. flying, yes, but what does that truly mean? shiro finds out soon enough that it equates to arms around him that cradle and hold, securing him close – three – closer – two – and closest – one – right before there’s lift-off. it almost feels like the real thing, because there’s a familiar rhythm to this. when he’s strapped in the pilot’s chair, there’s always a feeling, right then, right as the countdown timer runs out, when his lungs lock up and his stomach swoops. it’s the anticipation of adventure, as much as it is the anxiety of facing the unknown. he isn’t in his flight suit, with hours upon hours of specified training in his back pocket, but even so, clad in his pajamas, he feels that same rush as keith lifts him up.

– how is he lifting him up? gym lessons, sure. even with his alcohol addled brain, shiro finds the explanation lacking. keith is scrawny in comparison; shiro has to be somewhere in the ballpark of double his weight. nevermind the fact that he’s simply bigger, which makes picking him up and holding him while walking all the more difficult.

but he’s doing it.
keith is actually walking him to his bedroom.
flying him to his bedroom.

for one horrifying moment, shiro thinks he’s going to be sick. it’s a bigger swoop in his stomach, one that flip flops and turns airy, the whole of that feeling working up from his gut and into his chest, making everything feel full, too full. it takes him another moment to realize that, no, that isn’t vomit, it’s fucking emotion. good god, he is not swooning over this pipsqueak manhandling him with ease. that’s too… too…

embarrassing.

activating thrusters. eta thirty seconds.

now that isn’t even fair. embarrassing or not, shiro loses the fight, and then his heart is beating quicker through the full feeling in his chest. throughout the whole “flight”, shiro is suspiciously quiet of further drunken ramblings. it isn’t until his back finds the mattress and keith is leaning over him, that shiro remembers that he is entirely capable of speech. ]

Incredible. [ he means the flight. but also: ] You’re incredible.

[ it’s a tough call to decipher whether his slurred speech is to be blamed more so on the alcohol or on the happy fondness overtaking his mood. perhaps it’s both, just as both spur him into the action of lifting his hands to cup keith’s face. his friend hasn’t pulled back yet and likely won’t now, either, not with shiro holding him through the slow catch of breath. ]

No one does that, y’know? [ picks him up…? yes, but it’s more than that. ] No one just lets me fly. I always have to fight for it. No matter how many times I go up, it’s never enough.

[ the drunken ramblings are back. there’s purpose but it’s an unloading of honesty that doesn’t come with full clarity. why does the golden boy of galaxy garrison have to fight? hasn’t he proven himself by now? doesn’t he have the full support of the brass? of his fiancé? after all the tests, training and completed missions, what could possibly make anyone doubt his suitability? the only hint comes with a drifting of his gaze: to the right and to his wrist. blink and it’s over, because then he’s shifting that hand up from keith’s cheek, pushing and holding dark bangs back. ]

But it’s easy with you. You don’t doubt me. [ and now, with infinite gentleness, he swipes the pad of his left thumb over the crest of keith’s cheek. ] You let me keep all my dreams.

[marmoron]

[ incredible. you're incredible. ever since shiro came into his life, praise like that has stopped being so foreign, but what's unusual is the warmth that pours out of his heart, filling keith with radiant joy from head to toe. in those moments where keith's face is cupped in his best friend's hands, he feels incredible, too, like he's been caught by a star.

decorum demands that he move. as ignorant of social conventions as keith can be, even he's aware that panting this far in toshiro's personal space is probably not what he ought to be doing right this second. but how is he supposed to move when his body is turning to goo in shiro's hands?

stop staring. pay attention. he's talking to you, dumbas--

keith blinks slowly, pulling his focus away from the mesmerizing movement of shiro's lips to what's actually being said, but if patience yields focus then focus does not yield clarity.

what is shiro talking about? who is keeping the best pilot in galaxy garrison from flying? why does shiro have to fight when he's the most veteran astronaut? who the fuck is arguing that shiro isn't good enough?

bit by bit, confusion erodes the high, sobering the uncontrollably moony look in his eyes to one of mild concern. still not straightening up from being hunched over, keith moves one hand, instinctively closing his fingers around shiro's wrist as he turns his cheek into the gentle press of the circling thumb. ]

Of course I don't doubt you. I'm never giving up on you, remember? Those are our words.

[ shiro's words, technically, but ones that keith has nevertheless adopted fully and completely. he squeezes shiro's wrist, brow furrowing slightly. ]

... So who's getting in the way of your dreams? Cuz I'm gonna fight them with you.

[earthshine]

[ oh. keith clings to his wrist, holding him in place.
oh. keith turns his head into his palm, strengthening the connection.
oh. keith is saying –

those are our words.

shiro swallows, throat dry and voice absent. this sweet, sweet, miraculous boy, how is he so steadfast, yet so surprising? shiro wants to believe it as much as he doesn’t: that this loyalty goes both ways. keith has him. shiro knows without a doubt that he will lend whatever support he can to see keith through galaxy garrison and beyond… but as much as he quietly craves reciprocation in such unconditional fealty, he knows it’s selfish of him to ask for it. in five, ten years… life is going to be different for shiro. when the time comes that the doubters are entirely valid in their concerns surrounding his health, shiro doesn’t want keith clinging to these words.

keith should give up on him. shiro wants him to, because if someone so destined for the stars as keith is, willingly grounds himself in some misguided feeling of obligation to take care of him through the breaking down of his body…

shiro can’t let that happen. not with keith.
… what about adam?

so who’s getting in the way of your dreams?

adam is… different. adam is gifted for flight, too, but he doesn’t have the same drive. shiro knows his fiancé enjoys a seat at his desk, more than that of a pilot. teaching is what adam has come to enjoy. safe, comfortable, routine… – it allows for a more stable life, one that can be built upon, rather than the rigorous training schedules that lead to missions extending weeks to months to possible years off planet. shiro is beginning to understand what life adam is setting himself up for. setting them up for.

not yet. shiro still has some years left in him. surely adam will allow him that. ]

No. [ the swipes of his thumb stop. he lets go of keith’s bangs, too, that hand flopping down to the bed for a sad sounding flop. ] Don’t want you ruining your future.

[ by fighting the brass who continually require medical checks, more so than is protocol. or by picking further battles with adam, who is still keith’s commanding officer. or by clinging to their words, when shiro should encourage keith to outgrow him and make other connections, ones that will last far longer. ]

[marmoron]

[ and there it is, the inevitable mess up of words that leads his best friend to go from smiling and touching his face to pulling back with a reprimand. it's almost funny how even while shiro is plastered, keith's seemingly perfect ability to say the exact wrong thing plays out in much the same way.

you're incredible. was that really justunder a minute ago? expression falling, keith reluctantly releases shiro's wrist and lets out a quiet resigned sigh.]

You've stuck out your neck for me. [ a beat, then keith shakes his head to amend: ] You always defend me. You - you're the only reason I even have a future to mess up in the first place.

[ no matter how often shiro insists that keith has the talent to be part of galaxy garrison, nothing changes the fact that galaxy garrison would have never risked onboarding keith as a cadet without shiro's recommendation. they've talked about this before, but they're both too stubborn to reach a consensus. on any other day, keith would be ready to argue this, but tonight is shiro's birthday and the last thing he wants is a pointless argument over something they both know is true without it needing to be said.

you can't stop me from messing up my future for you.

keith thinks it loudly, lets it sit in his throat and then: ]

... But fine. If I promise to be good, will you tell me why people are trying to keep you grounded?

[earthshine]

[ shiro feels the loss, too. not with the self-awareness that has him realizing he isn’t approaching this with his usual, disaster-avoiding tact and thus, a swift recalibration is in order, no. but keith lets go and shiro dislikes it. in the aftermath, his hand stays there, cupping keith’s cheek, but without the anchoring of keith’s touch, it suddenly feels… wrong…? like, keith has retracted permission. so that hand falls to the bed, too, leaving shiro to wallow through loss, staring up at keith with sorrowed eyes and knitted brows.

you’ve stuck out your neck for me.

… didn’t shiro say something about keith protecting his neck a bit ago? it’s funny, yet not funny at all. the circling back of his thoughts is nonsensical and produces nothing of value, which ultimately keeps him quiet as keith talks and talks, chipping ever diligently away at shiro’s already compromised willpower. this is going to be bad, isn’t it? a little too loose tongued and a little too honest, shiro doesn’t have the foresight to see five steps ahead to tailor his words to bring them to the conclusion he wants, does he? briefly, mildly, he has a moment of introspection and thinks, oh fuck, all the while watching something settle in keith’s eyes.

… but fine.

the words keep coming and the obvious question is asked. i’m sick. everyone is worried. some for him and some about him. i’m sick. adam worries that he’ll push himself to a point of no return, accelerating the strain on his body and ending his quality of life that much sooner. i’m sick. as for the brass, they’re more worried about the increasing risk of entrusting multi-million dollar missions in the hands of someone with infrequent but destabilizing muscle spasms.

what type of worry will keith harbor once he knows? not that shiro is in any rush to find out. it’s not like it’ll be tonight, either, because he’s definitely not going to say – ]

I’m sick.

[ his traitorous mouth puts words to that loud, echoing thought of his and – fuck, it’s out and loud. shiro stares up at keith, still and stiff through the following beat, but then… well… perhaps some things are simply ingrained, because although he is greatly impaired, he isn’t about to let that sit. he shuts his eyes on a grimace and slaps his hand high to cover his eyes. ]

Don’t feel good.

[ i'm dying. i'm sick. he's drunk too much, that's all. ]

[marmoron]

[ whatever response keith had been expecting, i'm sick just isn't it. he blinks, clearly not following the train of thought, until shiro raises his hands to cover his face. clarity kicks in then, as keith connects the disjointed dots from finding shiro slumped over the toilet bowl to this conversation break of an announcement. in hindsight, keith couldn't say why he thought the conversation would be anything other than incoherent stream-of-consciousness, but then again... don't they say people are more honest when intoxicated? ]

Oh-- [ eyes widening, he straightens up, looking around for a garbage bin. ] Hang on a sec, lemme grab the trash can from the bathroom.

[ maybe it was a bad move to carry shiro to his bed? but as keith starts moving away, shiro mumbles: no, just stay here and stroke my hair again, that helped last time.

keith stops dead in his tracks. again, this isn't what he was expecting to hear, nor is he convinced that hair petting can truly be a remedy for inebration. then again, what the fuck would he know about what's comforting when drunk? giving the bedroom door another uneasy glance, keith takes a breath before acquiescing and taking a seat on the bed. ]

Okay.

[ and a little more hesitantly, he reaches across to gently put his hand on shiro's head, rubbing circles with his thumb. ]

Is that better?

[earthshine]

[ crisis averted? who even knows at this point. nonetheless, with the status quo maintained and the previous conversation dropped, shiro relaxes. the mattress dips and shiro tips his head, ever so slightly, in that direction. not that it’s needed. keith can easily reach him from where he is and so he does, soon laying palm and fingers close.

is that better?

a simple yes would be an appropriate response. feels nice would be a more honest one. what comes out are two notes, deep and throaty. ]

Mmhm.

[ alcohol has a way of making the world blurry and distant, yet warm and pleasant. for a time, anyway. the occasional bout of sickness has been spoiling that bit of dissociated enjoyment. so it’s nice to find that keith puts him right back in that sweet cocoon of uncaring, where he can forget and relax and melt right into these sheets. ]

You’ve got magic hands

[ thick in the way he mumbles it, the words slur together. his gaze is… mostly clear as he pulls his hand away, though. one slow blink and then he’s staring up at keith again, a little dopey and a lot smitten. ]

Maybe you’ll get me to purr, too. [ a beat. ] How do’ya do that anyway?

[marmoron]

[ lingering uncertainty over shiro's condition keeps keith from completely relaxing, but he's nevertheless lulled deeper into the rhythm of massaging by the smile that begins brightening up shiro's face. so maybe he still has no clue what taking care of a drunk friend looks like, but at the very least, shiro seems more content.

that's enough, right?

keith actually snorts at the magic hand's comment, raising his other hand to give his fingers a playful wiggle, though the accompanying tease of wanna feel twice as magical? gets lost with shiro's follow up comment.

one beat turns into two, then three and keith only manages an inarticulate: ]

Uh..well I...

[ the topic shouldn't be awkward, but having one of keith's idiosyncrasies brought up explicitly for the first time is a little strange. has shiro been mentally cataloging it as purring this whole time? how long has shiro wanted to ask? swallowing hard, keith clears his throat and then resumes the massage with a bit of forced nonchalance. ]

I don't purr. I'm not a cat. [ pulling an exaggerated face, keith plays up the levity with a matching tug of floof. ] And I can't do it whenever I want to. Only when it feels ....right? Like y'know. When I'm relaxed and comfy.

[ ... which is not at a ll like a cat, for the record. ]

My dad used to call it my happy noise.

[earthshine]

[ in the last few moments to tick by, the most distressing part has not been that unsanctioned assault on his absolutely innocent floof. no. it’s the admission that keith cannot produce his not-purr whenever requested. of course, this disappointment born from being denied access to harassing his best friend into certain reactions only lasts into the next beat, because… actually, that isn’t distressing at all.

relaxed and comfy. keith makes that not-purr when he is feeling both, and you know when he’s been making that not-purr? with shiro.

granted, it doesn’t happen every time they’re together, but it’s happened a number of times in the six months they’ve spent getting to know one another. that means something; something that his cottoned stuffed, alcohol drowned brain fails in adequately describing. nonetheless, happiness swells in his chest to build and build until he’s beaming. encouraged, self-satisfied, determined, he’s all of it until –

my dad used to call it my happy noise.

he’s still there: smiling wide. but there is a mental pause, as if, even in this state, he recognizes that any mention of keith’s father is a rare and special occasion. amazingly, he doesn’t laugh. happy noise at face value is funny in its simplicity, but no, shiro doesn’t laugh or snicker or tease. he reaches out instead, missing keith’s shoulder by a mile as his hand flops against his forearm to squeeze in what is meant to be supportive. ]

I love that you make your happy noise with me.

[ the earnestness in his voice eases for the next bit, replaced by a thoughtfulness as he seemingly tries to work through it aloud. ]

You usually do it when we sleep together. [ he’s still holding on, so it’s easy – and entirely unhelpful – to tug. ] You should lay down with me. Wanna hear it.

[marmoron]

[ it occurs to keith right after he says the words my happy noise out loud just how juvenile it sounds. wincing internally, he resolves to think of a damn word other than purring to call his quirk while bracing for teasing.

shiro surprises him though -- or rather, drunk shiro does because there isn't any requisite laughter, just a demanding tug at his forearm and a couple of declarations that make his heart skip beats. keith blinks, eyes first on the grip on his arm, then at shiro himself. if his heart was skipping before, it fucking trips now, stopped dead with disbelief that his best friend could ever look and sound so proud about something as trivial as making keith happy.

another tug makes keith blink again, slow to come back into himself, as a familiar giddy warmth spreads and bursts out of him in a laugh. ]

You're a big muscly blanket, remember? [ eyes fond, keith grins and allows his arm to be taken hostage. ] Kinda hard not to be comfy and relaxed when we sleep together. [ a beat, then hastily: ] Close. You know what I mean. Or well. You said it like that first, so of course you know what I mean.

[ but despite the worst of keith's sins being a simple repetition of shiro's phrasing, keith turns pink around the cheeks. he clears his throat, then crawls on top, then over shiro to get to the far side of the bed where he lies back with his head on a pillow. still flushed, he turns just his face to look at his best friend and puts a hand on his shoulder. ]

So.. how do you wanna do this?

[earthshine]

[ keith, please. shiro is too drunk to follow the back and forth of that tumbled explanation. the emptiness of his understanding shows in his eyes as he squints and stares, his brain moving slowly through each word. sleep together, no, close, wait, keith is accusing him of… knowing what he means…? doesn’t matter. keith is moving and not just that; he’s moving over and on shiro. he lifts his arm with the assumption that keith is going to lay down on him like he has before, but he pauses no more than two inches into the lift, because in the next moment, keith is shifting off. the pout is unbecoming and yet, there it stays, further demonstrating shiro’s confusion as he turns to his head to watch keith settle on the other side of the bed.

understanding isn’t what clears the pout. shiro is still rather thick in the head as a perpetual processing circle is spinning in his brain. however, seeing that pinkened face tip his way and feeling a hand on his shoulder…? shiro blinks away the tightenness of his expression and eases right into a smile.

and then it’s his turn to move.

a twist has him rolling and the roll has him flopping, one arm and one leg swinging with the motion to reach across keith. he comes to rest flush against keith’s side, arm over keith’s chest and leg over keith’s thighs, more or less trapping him under the weight. not that keith wants to get away, right? shiro sighs his own happy noise as he indulges in a nuzzle, one that takes his face further across keith’s shoulder, which is now his designated pillow. ]

Big muscly blanket.

[ that is the extent of his answer for how he wants to do this. makes sense, doesn’t it? twice now keith has called him a blanket, so why shouldn’t he blanket him? well, there is one reason why: ]

This good for you? [ as comfortable as he is snuggled with his best friend, who is also somewhat tucked underneath him, shiro has enough presence of mind – and care – to reconsider. ] ‘Cause you can be on top.

[ he doesn’t lift his head or even tilt it in some attempt to catch keith’s eye. shiro continues to talk to keith’s neck. ]

I like you topping me, too.

[marmoron]

[ everything happens so quickly in the few beats after keith poses his question. before tonight, he wouldn't have thought five seconds is a long time, but it's enough time for shiro to turn the world inside out, exposing his heart and soul. or at least, that's how it fucking feels.

the erratic beating behind his ribs is so loud and fast that keith is sure that shiro can hear it. how can he not when the guy has his ear pressed up by his shoulder? just as damnably, how can he not see the effect he's having on keith simply by lying on top of him? if keiths face was warm before, he's practically burning now, as though he's the one who drank all the wine and put out an SOS.

pressed deeper into the mattress by the added weight of shiro draped over him, keith tries to pull himself together enough to do something other than stare open-mouthed, but with his brain short-circuiting he simply can't and his best friend is seemingly determined to keep it that way.

this comfortable for you?
yes. yes, of course shiro would check in on that... shiro is always so considerate of keith's comfort --
cause you can be on top
haha, shiro sure is on a roll with weirdly phrased comments like sleeping together and--
i like you toping me, too.

however keith is meant to respond to that, it probably ought to have been more eloquent than a breathlessly squeaked: ]

O-oh..

[ for once keith doesn't have the presence of mind to try and correct that embarrassment of a response. the black eye has faded into hues of yellow, but that night is a potent reminder of why entertaining inappropriate thoughts of shiro is stupid. wrong.

but that doesn't change the utterly disastrous fact that nobody makes keith feel so vividly alive, as shiro does. hell, his best friend is drunk and rambling while lying on top of him. nothing about any of that is suggestive or attractive, but fuck if any part of his mind has gotten that memo. keith ought to be laughing or something actually sane, but instead, he can't stop fucking marveling at shiro pinning him down and the shared heat of their bodies melding.

why the fuck does he like this?

keith isn't supposed to like this. being emotionally vulnerable is challenging enough, being held down by another guy and letting them have him whatever way should be even worse. with butterflies erupting in his stomach, keith swallows thickly and quickly gets back on track. why did he go there? it's not as though this is what's going on with shiro right now, and if it were -- stop it.. ]

I- [ fuck, is that pitced voice really his? keith swallows again, and takes a deep breath. ] I.. uh... I haven't thought about topping or uh...bottoming. I thought I'd like topping more but uh... I kinda like this, too. You uh.. feel really big like this.

[ grimacing internally, keith rests his hand on shiro's back, giving it a gentle pat before resting it between shoulder blades. because that's what he meant, obviously. shiro's frame is girthy and strong and that's all this is about. ]

[earthshine]

[ what is keith babbling about now? topping and bottoming, right. the double meaning is lost on shiro, but that’s no reason to breathe a sigh of relief. no, no, keith isn’t off the hook just yet. again, keith brings up the very obvious – and very appreciated – fact that shiro is big, which, as before, has shiro swelling with pride. it’s somewhat hampered by his partially draped, mostly snuggled position, but it’s there in his smile and his voice as he heehees right into a huff. ]

Because I am really big.

[ when he’s walking beside keith through the halls. when he’s sitting next to keith on his couch. when he’s lying beside keith in this bed, in his florida bed, in any bed. he dwarfs keith in every situation and they both know it. this is – what? the third time tonight keith has commented on his size? giant, big, and big again, with muscly thrown in there on occasion. big is a bit of a step down from giant, though, isn’t it?

it’s a nonsense thought, one that serves no productive purpose, but it pops into shiro’s head and then it’s all he can focus on as his watered down brain spins it into some sort of issue. all right, issue is a strong word. an inaccurate one, too, because it’s less of an issue and more of a prompting.

he’s not just big, he’s giant. large. above average. jumbo.

so he moves again. his leg slides further and his arm reaches farther, fingers grasping at the mattress as he heaves himself up and over. he flops right back down, but not in the same place, no. he’s over quite a few inches. right over keith, in fact. chest to chest, pelvis to pelvis, shiro aligns the trunks of their bodies and blankets keith completely, only off setting his head a few degrees to plop his cheek to the pillow, right next to keith’s ear. sadly, most of it is covered by keith’s hair, but with shiro’s face turned that way anyway, it’s easy to rub the tip of his nose into that curtain of black. ]

See? Can fit all of you underneath me.

[marmoron]

[ things never get easier. why had keith ever thought this would be the peak of the escalation when their friendship has always been about pushing limits and going one step further? this isn't even all that unprecedented, considering the night keith had, to use shiro's phrasing, topped.

still, it's easier said than done to keep it together. now more caught than ever under shiro's shadow with hot breath tickling his ear, keith feels a distinct shiver zip down his spine making his toes curl and his heart do yet another stop-start. yes, shiro is certainly very big. big enough to fit all of keith beneath him, and ... perhaps too big to fit inside?

keith had idly wondered about that before when his lips were parted and stretched around griffin's cock. honestly, he wasn't sure of what to expect out of his first experience with blowjobs, but surely it was meant to be more... exciting? instead, griffin had nervously pulled out a very ordinary-looking dick that keith had eyed with all the passion of staring at a picture in a sex-ed textbook before getting on with it. if he closed his eyes, it could have been shiro moaning and urgently pulling his hair. shiro who was occupying his mouth, and filling it with that salty taste.

the forbidden fantasy resurfaces with a vengeance, making keith freeze when a distinct twitch between his legs brings his brain back online with alarming clarity. he laughs a little breathlessly, still very pink around the cheeks as he angles his face slightly towards shiro's. ]

Heh, Okay, you got me there, big guy. [ a beat. ] Massive guy.

[ he huffs, then punctuates the correction with an apologetic squeeze on the shoulder. ]

Should I be freaking out about you breaking me if I'm the bottom?

[ bottom in the sense of being under shiro and nothing else, of course. ]

idk if the light is on, so im just saying the bedside lamp is on /i do what i want

[earthshine]

[ massive still isn’t giant, but it is a step in the right direction. appeased – as well as pleased – shiro starts into a low hum, only to abandon that note within the next beat, because… what? what is keith talking about? if? he is the bottom right now. understanding lapses and confusion ushers in, prompting shiro to lift his head. as previously stated, so much of this boy is tucked underneath the big massiveness of shiro’s blanketing body, but while shiro can feel every bit of his best friend beneath him, shiro still has to look to double-check…

yup. definitely bottoming.

having lifted and shifted, shiro’s face is closer now, more aligned with keith’s as he hovers just above. there is an obvious laboring to his ability to rationale and understand; it’s easily seen in the way he slow blinks and stares, eyes just a pinch more vacant as his brain works. okay, now that he has established that keith is, indeed, still the bottom he was ten seconds ago, what was it that keith actually said? something about freaking out and being broken by shiro topping him? because he’s too heavy? too big? ]

No. I’d never do that.

[ he’s never, ever hurt keith – doesn’t keith know that? shiro would rather cut off his right arm than hurt keith in any terrible, lasting way.

like someone else already has.

earlier, shiro turned on – and left on – the lamp on the bedside table, so there is enough light in the room for shiro to see what hasn’t fully healed: the bruising of keith’s eye. the dark purpling of a few days ago is mostly gone, only a few stray spots left as the rest has begun to yellow. it’s ugly and it’s gross; not the bruise itself, but that fact that this happened to keith at all. and more so, that griffin got away with doing it.

that should have never happened. and you know what? it sure as hell never would have happened if keith had chosen someone far more worthy than that insecure, jealous-tempered bully of his. someone like… like… ]

I’d take the best care of you if you bottomed for me.

[ if again. keith is currently the bottom, so what are they talking about exactly? shiro keeps his gaze on that yellowing, expression pinched and oddly intense, despite his awareness still highly compromised. there is a shift, however, one that has him taking less of the burden from his arms and allowing more of his weight to bear down on keith, pressing him deeper into the mattress. see? he isn’t breaking keith. keith can take him just fine.

he huffs once, soft and barely with any breath, before he’s grumbling almost petulantly: ]

Much better than someone like Griffin would.

[marmoron]

[ shiro shifts, and suddenly his best friend's face hovers mere inches above his. keith only realizes he's stopped breathing when his lungs burn in protest, but when he does exhale it's so shallow and careful, like breathing too obviously might spook those lips away from him.

... which would theoretically be a good outcome, right? they've been close, but this is arguably too close, and there's no sense in teasing himself with imagined kisses that shiro can't and doesn't mean because he isn't in his right mind.

keith sinks fractionally deeper into the mattress, pressing the metal of his wrapped knife that much harder against his backside. it's almost laughable how grabbing it just in case whatever was life-endangering to shiro was still there seems like a century ago. time flies, or so they say, but this is on a whole other level. keith walked into this apartment one way, and now he's pretty sure he'll be leaving it with a headful of even more impossible wants and repressed desires.

i'd take the best care of you if you bottomed for me.

see, he could almost believe that this is still about being pinned under shiro's body, but not when griffin is brought up. he swallows, not flinching away from the intensity of shiro's vacant stare out of some misguided sense of challenge. heart hammering even louder than ever, keith stares back with a mixture of alarm and wonder. just... how the fuck did shiro know he was just thinking about griffin? lucky guess or... ]

...Would you?

[ shit. that isn't what he's supposed to be asking, but... can this really be all that harmful if there's a strong likelihood that shiro won't remember this in the morning? keith swallows again, clearing his throat before muttering: ]

Low bar I guess. You wouldn't punch me, I know. But what would you do?