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The air smells like cow shit. It’s a late December afternoon, and the sprawling parking lot in front of Keith’s dorm has nearly emptied out as students have returned home for winter break. Keith’s got his own duffle slung over one shoulder, which he tugs at nervously as he surveys the skies. It’s only three pm, but it might as well be six. Wind bites at Keith’s skin, and the sky is filled with heavy grey clouds like it’s about to snow. The air smells like manure, so that pretty much confirms it. Keith promised his mom he’d be home by tonight, and some snow isn’t going to stop him. He rushes to the old Toyota Corolla that sits alone in the corner. He throws his duffle in the back before burrowing himself into the front seat with the heater blasting in his face.
As Keith begins the four hour drive home, he’s pleased to see at least the highways aren’t too packed. He’s got a bag of watermelon sour patch candy and Mariah Carey belts over the sound of the heater. The sky gets progressively darker the further Keith goes, but Keith just tells himself it’s the sun setting behind the deep, deep layers of clouds. About 90 miles out, a flurry starts to fall. Keith pulls over at a rest stop to pee and purchase a snickers bar.
The lady behind the counter surveys the snow outside, which has now unmistakably progressed past a flurry to a blizzard, “Good luck out there, forecast’s saying it’s only gonna get worse as the hours go.”
Keith doesn’t respond, just grabs his snickers bar and gives the cashier a brief smile, before heading back out into the cold. The snow swirls so densely, he’s got to shield his face with a gloved hand to make it back to his car. Back in the Corolla, his phone vibrates on the seat besides him. It’s his mom, she’s worried about the driving conditions. Keith reassures her he’s driven through snow before, and that anyways, he’s too far to turn around now.
By the time Keith merges back onto the highway, the snow is so thick Keith shifts down a gear. Driving in third gear on the highway is hell, but Keith thinks of his mom and stops himself from shifting back. The cars have now condensed as everyone goes at a snail’s pace, windshield wipers at full speed as the deluge of snow rushes at them. It’s been an hour, and Keith’s gone maybe 40 miles when he and his gaggle of cars approach a flashing road sign that reads “Warning, Winter Storm Category 3 approaching”. Ok cat three’s pretty bad. Keith hasn’t driven this far in a category three before. Nevertheless, Keith grits his teeth, turns up Mariah, and plows on.
Not even ten minutes later, his phone rings. Keith glances over and sees it’s his dad.
“Hello?” He answers.
“Hi Keith, your mother asked me to call and make sure everything’s alright. It’s getting real bad by us, and according to the news, it’s heading right your way.” His pop’s voice crackles over the line.
Keith sighs, he can hear his mom asking Pop what he’s saying. “Yeah, it’s pretty slow going out here, but I’m past half way, it doesn’t make much sense to turn around at this point. I might be home a bit late though”.
There’s a slight scuffle on the other end, and then Keith’s mom speaks, “Keith? Listen, your safety is the priority. If you need to pull over at a roadside motel for the night, your dad and I will cover you on the bill.”
Keith sighs internally, the last thing he wants to do is pull over in buttfuck middle of nowhere and spend 70 dollars to sleep in a musty hotel room that smells vaguely of cigarettes.
“It’s alright Mom, I think I can make it, thank you though. Don’t wait up for me.” Then he cuts the call, he feels bad, but he’s trying to drive and he knows the conversation could have dragged on forever.
It’s barely a few miles later that the cars around him start noticeably thinning out, probably with similar ideas to Krolia’s. The lane in the opposite direction is ghostly empty. Keith’s another twenty miles in when he catches sight of flashing orange lights in the distance. He slows as he approaches, and finds a utility truck with a man in front holding a large stop sign. Keith hesitantly rolls his window down, and is greeted by an onslaught of wind and snow to the face.
The man squints down at him below the rim of his construction helmet.
“Where you headed tonight, Sir?” his voice is gruff against the wind.
Keith shivers as he replies, “I’m going home to my parents, they’re just about 100 miles north west.”
The man shakes his head, “I’m afraid you’re gonna have to phone your parents and tell them you’re not gonna make it home tonight. The storm’s only getting worse, the Governor’s ordered to have all the highways shut down until the snow plows and salt trucks can make it up here and clear the roads.”
Keith’s heart sinks. He thanks the utility worker, and inches his car to the nearest highway exit. He parks at a Denny’s and dials his mom, telling her what just happened.
Keith sighs, thumping the wheel of his shuddering Corolla, “Where am I gonna go? I really don’t want to camp out at a motel for the night.”
Krolia asks Keith to repeat where he’s stuck.
“It’s some tiny mountain town, Beaver Creek or something?”
A pause, “Bear Creek?”
“Yeah, that’s it.” Keith responds.
“Isn’t that where Shiro ended up after he-” Krolia clears her throat, “he was discharged?”
Keith’s stomach twists nervously, “Yeah, I think so. I had forgotten he ended up here.”
“Well, why don’t you give him a call? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind sheltering you for the night. You two were so close in high school.”
Keith doesn’t bother to mention that he hasn’t heard from Shiro.. well, in a long time. “Y-yeah, I guess I could give him a call.”
With his parent’s blessing, Keith hangs up, and digs through his contacts to find Shiro’s number. He doesn’t even know if it’s still the correct one. Keith sits for a moment staring at the profile picture. The sky is bright blue above the metal bleachers. Shiro smiles wide, eyes squinting. He’s slightly sweaty, and his dark hair sticks in every direction. Keith remembers the moment so clearly.
It was a late October day, and Keith had been cooped up in the corner of the art room all free period. He was working on a piece that at the time, he thought was groundbreaking. Looking back, it was innovative at best. The painting involved three different kinds of watercolors, sharpie pens, and masking fluid that smelled slightly of fish. Shiro had found him there, hunched over the table, music blasting in his ears. It hadn’t taken much for Shiro to convince Keith to come eat lunch with him outside by the bleachers.
Keith would have followed Shiro anywhere.
As they walked through the school hallways, a vague sense of bemusement lingered in Keith. It was still unclear to him how he had somehow ended up in the confidences of someone like Shiro. An upperclassman, captain of the football team, and so handsome it hurt. Sure, Keith had friends, but he wouldn’t exactly describe himself as popular. Yet here he found himself, sitting in the grass with Shiro beneath the old willow on the hill that overlooked the football field. As they ate, they talked about Shiro’s upcoming game and Keith’s developing art portfolio. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and when Shiro finished his sandwich he stood up to race down the hill towards the bright green turf of the football field.
“You’ll get a stomach ache, you just ate!” Keith hollered after him, but either Shiro didn’t hear him, or he just didn’t care.
Keith lay back in the grass and watched from a distance as Shiro jogged laps around the track, hopping and skipping around, waving jokingly every time he caught Keith’s gaze. Eventually, Shiro ran back up to him, huffing and puffing, but smiling widely nonetheless. That was when Keith had held up his phone and pointed the camera at Shiro, who grinned big and wide like he had no care in the world. Keith had not had the age, or experience to understand entirely what the deep pang in his chest had meant, at the time.
Keith closes the picture and takes a deep breath before pressing the phone icon by Shiro’s number. He chews on his fingers as the phone rings. He half expects to be sent to operator, or for some stranger to pick up.
When the voice on the other end answers with a “Keith?”, there's no mistaking that it is indeed Takashi Shirogane on the line.
A jolt of satisfaction runs through Keith at the realization that Shiro must have kept Keith’s number saved to recognize who is calling.
“Hey Shiro, it’s me.” Keith tries for confidence, but fails miserably. He feels fifteen all over again.
There’s a momentary pause on the other end, then, “Keith, how have you been?”
Maybe there’s a slight discomfort underlying the curiosity in Shiro’s tone, but it is still warm and open, like it always was to Keith.
He proceeds to explain to Shiro his situation, and before he even has to ask, Shiro suggests he come up and spend the night at his cabin. “It’s just a few miles north, and besides, you don’t want a motel, the ones around here are crappy and overpriced.”
Shiro texts Keith his address, and tells him he’ll be waiting with a warm drink and supper.
Keith locks his phone and sits in the dark of his car, with only the lurid red and yellow of the Denny’s sign as illumination. He feels a sense of loss, and melancholy, and anticipation all at once. Fuck. The nervous jitters carry him deeper into town, and up into the mountains where homes and businesses grow sparse.
Maybe it’s because he’s distracted, but he doesn’t notice he’s driving in increasingly deep snow until his car jerks to a halt, his engine roaring as his tires spin in place. God fuck damn shit fuck. Keith takes a deep breath, and then tries reversing back. No luck. Keith gets out of the car to assess the situation, and it doesn’t look good. His front tires are firmly entrenched in the thick layers of snow, and there’s no way he’s gonna be able to move another inch without the help of someone pushing the car from behind. It’s with great reluctance that Keith crawls back into his car to retrieve his phone, and anxiously dials Shiro’s number for the second time tonight.
Shiro does him the grace of chuckling when Keith explains his predicament, promising to be there within the hour with his pickup truck. Keith sits shivering in his car as it gets increasingly colder the longer the engine idles. By the time bright spotlights come over the hill, blinding him, Keith can see his breath in the beams of light. Keith certainly did not imagine reuniting with his high school best friend looking and feeling like a human icicle, but sometimes life disappoints. He shuffles out of the car to greet Shiro, who unlike Keith, is wrapped in a thick coat with a hat, scarf, and gloves. Keith almost begrudges him, but the moment Shiro spots sight of Keith’s shivering frame, he takes off his hat and scarf and offers them to Keith, arms outheld as he approaches.
Keith manages a shivering grin, “Long time, huh?”
Shiro smiles, wrapping the scarf around Keith’s neck, “It’s good to see you Keith. Not so good about the circumstances..” Shiro trails off, looking over the Corolla.
Then he adds, “I’d offer you my jacket as well, but my prosthetic, it can’t be exposed to the cold for very long.”
He clears his throat, the tips of his ears bright red, and Keith rushes to nod, “N-no that’s fine, this is great as it is, thank you!”
To prove it, he shoves Shiro’s hat over his now slightly frizzy hair. It has a giant, fluffy pom pom on top.
“If I’d known you didn’t have anything with you, I’d have brought some extra sweaters” Shiro offers.
So maybe Keith is a dumbass college student who didn’t bring a coat with him on winter break. This is nothing new.
Keith shakes his head, “No, it’s fine, I really, really appreciate you coming out here to save my ass, and letting me stay at your house, and just everything.”
Shiro is circling the corolla, surveying the conditions, but he stops to reassure Keith it’s really no bother at all, and can Keith get in the car while Shiro tries to push from behind?
Sure, Keith can do that. He sits, one foot on the gas, one out the door, and glances back at Shiro as he hesitantly presses down. His car whines as the tires continue spinning in place, and Shiro grimaces and shakes his head.
He comes around to Keith’s door, leaning into the car, “Doesn’t look too good. I’m gonna have to tow it.”
Keith’s heart sinks. That means more time spent in the snow, and more that he’s asking of Shiro tonight.
“Are you sure there’s really no alternative?” Keith asks, but Shiro is already heading back to his truck to gather the materials to rig up the corolla and tow it back to Shiro’s cabin.
What follows is an arduous half hour spent looking over Shiro’s shoulder and continually asking if there’s anything Keith can do to help, which no, there really isn’t. Nevertheless, Shiro keeps a calm, positive disposition the whole way through. When they finally get into Shiro’s truck and he turns the key to start the engine, Kelly Clarkson blasts through the speakers.
Shiro blushes pink, “Sorry, I really like my Christmas music.”
Keith grins and leans forward to turn it up even louder, “Me too.”
If Keith’s groans when the heater finally starts blowing hot air again are orgasmic, well it's because it’s been a long night and the end of Keith’s fingers feel like tingly popsicles. Shiro laughs, but holds out his flesh hand to the vent and wiggles his fingers as the heat washes over them. The drive back up to Shiro’s cabin is positively boring compared to the past few hours Keith has had, and he takes the moment to lean his head against the window, Shiro’s hat still snug and warm over his ears.
“You’re studying aerospace, aren’t you?” Shiro breaks the silence.
Keith nods, surprised, “How’d you know?”
Shiro shrugs, the tips of his ears blushing. “Through the grapevine. Pidge told Matt who told me, you know how it is.”
Pidge and Matt were part of their inner circle in high school, and Keith was lucky enough to have Pidge as a roommate now that they’re in college.
So Shiro’s been asking about him during all these years. It leaves a warm feeling in his stomach. They both go quiet as Shiro continues to watch the road, and Keith the stars. When they finally turn a bend and Shiro’s little cabin comes into view, Keith could cry tears of relief. The cabin is decked in multicolored twinkle lights, a metal-frame reindeer grazes at the snow. There’s a slightly rusted awning attached to the side of the house, which Shiro parks under, the sound of gravel crunching beneath them. They both agree to leave Keith’s car rigged up until the next morning. Keith follows Shiro up the path to the front door, where light filters through the windows onto the snow. The few minutes in Shiro’s heated truck have definitely helped, but Keith is still shivering violently by the time they make it inside Shiro’s cabin.
Shiro turns back to Keith as they enter, haloed in the soft yellow light of the living room, and immediately notices Keith’s state. Before Keith can even shut the door behind him, Shiro shrugs out of his coat and whips off the beige knitted sweater he’s wearing underneath, holding it out to Keith. Keith feels a lot of feelings at once. Cold, but that’s not new. Surprised, but Shiro tends to do that to him, What he does not expect to feel is a ooey gooey vaguely aroused mess at the sight of Shiro’s bare chest. Evidently, the accident had not swayed Shiro from his strict workout routine; and goddamn it showed. He is broader and stronger than Keith had ever seen him in high school, his torso littered with scars, and there’s a light dusting of hair over his pectorals and trailing below his belly button.
Keith feels dumbstruck, standing there wracked with chills, mouth slightly agape. The tops of Shiro’s cheeks turn slightly red, and he nudges the sweater into Keith’s arms.
“Here, take it. You can put it on while I go find something else to wear.”
When Keith hesitates, Shiro nudges again, teasing, “It’s the softest one I’ve got”.
Keith can see Shiro’s left dimple when he smiles, and maybe he huffs as he grabs the sweater from Shiro’s hands. He begins the miserable process of peeling the layers of clothing off of himself, and pulls Shiro’s sweater. It clings to some of Shiro’s body warmth, and it smells like Shiro’s aftershave, and it’s soft with wear. Maybe someone is going to have to pry this sweater from Keith’s cold, dead hands, because he is never giving it up willingly.
Shiro climbs the ladder back down from his loft bedroom a few moments later, wearing a new, forest green sweater, and jesus christ that sweater was made for the man’s shoulders. Keith has stripped down and stands in Shiro’s sweater, which looks more like a dress on him, hanging down to his thighs, just above the hem of his boxer shorts.
This time it’s Shiro’s turn to stop abruptly as he turns back. Keith shuffles his feet, and hides behind his fringe.
Shiro clears his throat, “Great, the sweater fits.”
Keith can’t help but snort, and Shiro laughs too. He offers to throw Keith’s clothes in the dryer, and disappears towards the back of the cabin.
Keith takes the opportunity to finally look around the quaint cabin Shiro calls home. If the outdoor Christmas decor was cheesy, the indoor decor is positively gaudy. Red and gold tinsel lines the mantel above the merry fire that crackles in the brick fireplace. There’s a fat Christmas tree tucked in the corner of the cabin that’s bursting with red and green baubles, glittery gold ribbon, and obviously hand painted clay ornaments. Shiro’s gone the unorthodox route, and hung a Christmas wreath on the inside of his front door, and there are more multicolored twinkle lights strung up around the entire cabin.
Shiro reappears as Keith catches a whiff of a delicious smell coming from the small kitchen tucked besides the living room. Keith’s stomach growls, because of course it does. Shiro laughs, and sue Keith, but he really did miss that sound.
“I was actually making dinner when you called.” He glances behind him, “I left it warming in the oven if you want some.”
“You cook?” Keith asks, partly teasing, but partly surprised.
Keith remembers the time Shiro narrowly avoided burning the Kogane kitchen down trying to make boxed mac n cheese.
Shiro grins jovially, “I’m not completely useless Keith. I taught myself when I moved out here, there was no one preparing my meals anymore so I didn’t have much choice.”
Shiro walks to the kitchen as Keith follows.
“If I may say so, this chicken and wild rice casserole is one of my best.”
He pulls a bright yellow oven mitt covered in sunflowers from a hook above the stove and bends to pull open the oven. The delicious smell intensifies as heat pours from the open door. Keith’s mouth waters as he watches Shiro expertly pull the dish from the rack and place it on the stove top to cool. Shiro pulls some plates from the cabinet by the sink, and they set the table together. Of course Shiro would have coordinated dishes and place mats; everything is in nature tones, deep greens, cool browns, and warm orange. Keith can’t remember the last time he did something so domestic. College dining halls don’t exactly have the cozy, homey vibe going on.
Keith is ordered to sit while Shiro sets the casserole on the table, and goes back to grab two beers from the fridge. They fizz as Shiro pops them open, handing one to Keith.
“You’re of age, right?” Shiro asks teasingly,
Keith flips him off, “Turned twenty one this October.”
Shiro stands over Keith as he doles a large portion of rice, topped with creamy chicken and cheese. Shiro places the casserole back down on the pot holder, and sits down across from him. He takes a slow sip of his beer and watches Keith for a moment.
Shiro smiles, eyes crinkling slightly at the corners, “This is nice.”
Keith nods, sharing a smile of his own. It is nice. He almost feels dumb; Keith should have known that seeing Shiro again would feel like no time had passed. Even five years apart can’t shake the ease and familiarity they had found in each other. Shiro watches as Keith dutifully takes a big bite of the casserole and chews. Maybe it’s because Keith’s starving, but it really is some of the best creamy chicken and rice he’s ever tasted. Not that he’s tasted many, but still.
“Good?” Shiro asks maybe a little nervously.
Keith nods, “I’m impressed Shiro.”
Shiro grins and leans forward to serve himself.
They eat their meal in quiet comfort. The exhaustion of the past few hours is really starting to catch up to Keith, and he stifles a few yawns between bites. Shiro must notice, because the moment they are done, he suggests they leave the dishes until the next morning. As they head back to the living room, Shiro declares Keith take his bed in the loft.
“I’ll just stay down here on the couch.” He attempts to reassure Keith.
Keith absolutely refuses, “Shiro, I am not letting you sleep on the couch in your own house.”
Then he adds more quietly, “Won’t it hurt your shoulder?”
He gazes at the point where skin must meet metal beneath Shiro’s sweater, and Shiro freezes slightly for a moment. Keith wades through the moment of awkwardness if it means Shiro doesn’t wreck his back and shoulder trying to be chivalrous.
Shiro sighs, but relents. “Fine, as long as you don’t mind sharing the bed. There’s no way I’m letting you sleep on the couch after the day you’ve had.”
Well fuck, maybe Keith didn’t think this through all the way. Shiro watches him, and he looks so young in the mellow lamplight, the white hair and slash across his nose soften him. Keith really thought he was past this, it was a high school crush for fuck’s sake. But his traitorous little brain loses all function when he thinks of sharing a bed with Shiro. Shiro doesn’t seem to catch on to Keith’s internal panic, and just nods when Keith finally agrees, for lack of an alternative.
He shows Keith to the bathroom, and digs around the drawers for a moment, before conjuring a brand new toothbrush, still in the package. Keith thanks Shiro, taking the toothbrush as Shiro leaves him to his business.
When Keith comes out of the bathroom, Shiro’s left out a spare t-shirt and pair of sweatpants that Keith would probably have to roll up around the waist to fit him. Keith puts on the t-shirt, and throws Shiro’s sweater on top for good measure. He climbs up the ladder to the loft, and is relieved to find Shiro has done Keith the mercy of wearing pants and a t-shirt to bed. Keith doesn’t want to imagine the struggle of spending the night mere inches away from Shiro’s gloriously bare chest. When it’s finally time to turn the lights out and get into bed, Keith’s heart is racing, He feels dumb for it, but it’s not exactly like he can help it. The dark silence somehow feels much heavier, more intimate than the dinner they shared less than an hour ago. Thoughts race through Keith’s head, and despite the physical exhaustion, sleep evades him. From the sound of his uneven breathing and occasional shuffling, it doesn’t seem like Shiro is having much luck falling asleep either. Keith thinks back to dinner, to that long look, and Shiro’s “This is nice”.
He feels like maybe, in all the whirlwind of the storm, and the shock of seeing Shiro after so long, he may have come off aloof, if not distant. Keith turns from where he was staring at the wall.
“Shiro?” He whispers.
If he raises his voice, he might not be able to say what he wants to. Shiro hums in response, and Keith swears he can see the shock of Shiro’s white hair in the dark.
“I missed you, you know.” Keith admits.
There is the sound of Shiro shuffling about, “I missed you too Keith.”
“And I’m sorry.” Shiro breaths after a pause.
Sorry?
“Sorry for what?” Keith whispers back.
The pause this time is even longer.
“I-I regret not doing a better job of keeping in touch with you in the military.” Shiro begins.
“After the accident I know you reached out, but I couldn’t- I didn’t feel like I could talk to you” Shiro heaves a sigh, “I didn’t think I could bear your pity.”
Ah. The accident, the one that had downed a 30 million dollar military jet, and cost Shiro his arm. Keith wasn’t dumb, even as a high school sophomore, he’d known the risks when Shiro had told him he wanted to join the air force as a test pilot. Somehow the price had still felt too steep.
“Shiro, I know you. I know you. How could I ever pity you?” Keith huffs.
How to make Shiro understand?
“Yeah what happened absolutely sucked, and it wasn’t fair, and it shouldn’t have happened to you. But all of that feels so secondary to- well to who you are, Shiro.”
Frustration wells inside Keith. Yes, the events of his life are pieces of the whole that makes up Shiro, but Shiro is Shiro. To Keith, he feels untouchable by all of it, despite the scars and the severed arm. Keith cannot verbalize this without maybe letting slip a little too much.
Nope, he’s definitely not past this then.
“I missed you a lot Shiro, that’s all. And if you’ll have me, I’ll always want to be in your life.” Keith heaves a breath as he goes quiet.
Shiro remains silent long enough that Keith starts to worry maybe he’s said something wrong.
Finally, “Thank you Keith, that really means a lot.”
And if Shiro’s words come slightly choked, Keith pretends he doesn’t notice.
“You’re welcome, and thank you! For dinner, and for towing my car in a blizzard, and for letting me steal your sweater.” Keith could go on, but doesn’t.
He feels weighed down by everything Shiro’s done for him in the past few hours since reuniting.
Shiro laughs, “You’re welcome, and it’s not stealing if I offered.”
He tugs at the sleeve of Keith’s sweater, and Keith’s breath catches.
“You know, this is the first time I’ve had someone up here.” Shiro admits.
Keith is shocked. As far as he knows, Shiro’s been here nearly a year, ever since the accident.
“Not even Matt?” Keith asks quietly.
Shiro tugs at Keith’s sleeve again, lightly and barely there.
“Nah, but I’ve been down to see the Holts once or twice.”
“So why’d you choose Bear Creek, population fifteen-thousand, then?” Keith can’t help but ask, curiosity getting the better of him.
“I like it here. It’s quiet. I’ve got my physical therapist just thirty minutes east, I help out with odd jobs in town, and nothing can beat this view.” Shiro says, waving to the window.
Keith thinks maybe it’s possible to love where you live and still feel suffocatingly lonely, and that maybe there can be safety in loneliness, but safety doesn’t get you very far, and Shiro was always meant to go the farthest.
“You should come back with me for Christmas, I’m sure Pops and Krolia would be so happy to see you” Keith offers before thinking too much about it.
“Plus, I definitely owe you for all this, this way I can get you a proper Christmas present to say thank you.”
Keith kind of wishes he could see Shiro’s face now.
“Y-yeah that would actually be really nice, if it’s okay with your parents.” Shiro responds quietly.
Keith grins in the dark, “I’ll call and ask first thing in the morning.”
“Well, we better get to sleep then.”
Keith swears he can hear a smile in Shiro’s voice.
They exchange good nights and the room falls back into silence.
Keith doesn’t realize he’s fallen asleep until he awakens the next morning. The sky outside is so grey, Keith has not the vaguest idea what time it is. Last night’s storm has calmed a little, but snow continues to fall. Keith can see the pine covered mountains through Shiro’s bedroom window, and fuck if that isn’t a view.
And Shiro, laying on his stomach, metal arm stretched across the bed, reaching towards Keith. His mouth is slightly open, and he’s definitely snoring. Light catches on a spot of drool at the corner of his mouth, and Keith thinks no- this is the view. Keith slides out of bed quiet and stealthy and climbs the wooden ladder down to the first floor. After using the bathroom and getting a drink of water from the kitchen, he heads back up to the loft; unsure of what else to do. Shiro is awake, he gives Keith a sleepy grin from where he sits up against the wall.
“Morning” Shiro’s voice is raspy and deep and oh no.
Keith returns the smile, “Good morning sleeping beauty”.
It’s an old joke between them, Shiro’s always been a heavy sleeper. The tips of Shiro’s ears turn red and he steers his glance to the window.
“It’s still snowing, but not as heavy as last night” Keith offers.
Shiro runs a tired hand through his morning-ruffled hair and sighs. “We gotta take care of your car.”
Keith doesn’t vocally groan, but it's a near thing.
“Breakfast first?” Shiro offers, evidently thinking the same thing.
Keith nods vigorously, “Breakfast first.”
Breakfast consists of scrambled eggs, butter on toast, and scalding hot coffee. They sit across from each other at Shiro’s small kitchen table and munch happily in silence. It reminds Keith of happy weekends spent glamping with the Holts, seven am breakfasts before spending the day outdoors hiking, swimming, and exploring. The Shiro then had black hair, his face and body were scar-free, and he didn’t walk like he carried a weight on his shoulders.
The Shiro across from him feels like a half-stranger, so familiar and yet not. Keith yearns for the boy he fell in love with at fifteen, but he reminds himself what he wanted and needed as a high schooler is no longer the same now at twenty one. They have both changed, and a part of Keith naively hopes their reshaped pieces might still fit together regardless.
After breakfast, they bundle up and head out to the covered awning on the side of the cabin where Keith’s car is still rigged to Shiro’s pickup truck. The snow has only grown in height overnight, and the sky remains watercolor grey as the flurries continue to fall. The small haven beneath the awning remains dry, and Keith watches Shiro begin the arduous process of undoing all the knots and ties that hold their cars together.
Keith feels a little useless just standing there, but he doesn’t know enough to help out, so he keeps Shiro company instead. Keith jiggles his legs, trying to keep the blood flowing, regretting once again the lack of warm winter wear he had packed. Up here in the mountains, the cold bites just that bit sharper, and Keith can feel the tops of his cheeks and the tip of his nose going slightly numb.
After a few minutes that feel like eternity, Shiro stands back up with a soft grunt, hands on his hips as he surveys his work. Satisfied, Shiro instructs Keith to get into the driver’s seat of the Corolla, and slowly inch backwards, so as to leave a small space between their two cars. Keith can’t get very far, since the driveway is blocked in on all sides by three feet of snow. Shiro declares the job done, and follows Keith through the fresh snow back into the cabin.
The moment they are inside, Keith rushes to the fire to defrost, and Shiro heads to the kitchen and begins pattering around, pots clanging, mugs clinking. Before long the wonderful, sweet smell of hot cocoa wafts through the cabin, and Keith’s mouth waters. Shiro comes to sit beside him in front of the fireplace, two mugs of steaming hot chocolate in hand.
“I’m out of marshmallows, so this’ll have to do.” Shiro says, handing Keith his cup.
Keith takes a sip and barely avoids burning his tongue, “This is great just like this.”
Shiro chuckles, taking a sip from his drink, “I’m glad to hear my hot chocolate making skills remain up to par.”
Keith is silent as he recalls the wintery afternoons he would spend at Shiro’s house after school. His heart aches for something that feels so close, yet so far away.
“You always remembered exactly how many mini marshmallows I liked in my cocoa.” Keith says with a soft smile.
Shiro looks to be reminiscing as well, “Six mini marshmallows” He grins playfully.
Keith blushes. They finish their cocoa in relative quiet, the sound of the fire crackling filling the space between them. Keith notices there is no TV to be found in the cabin, although he did spot a laptop on Shiro’s bedside table last night. And Shiro’s got a smartphone, so he’s not a total mountain hermit.
“What do you usually do every day?” Keith asks.
Shiro fidgets with the empty mug in his hand, avoiding Keith’s gaze.
“Oh you know, I like to help out some of the folks in town, just manual labor and menial chores. They really appreciate it.”
He rubs the back of his neck, “I’ve got physical therapy once a week, and they even have wifi up here!”
Keith gasps in fake shock, “Wifi!”
Shiro laughs and nods, “I’m not a complete recluse, I keep up with the news, I read a lot, I drive down and see the Holts.”
Shiro’s grandpa had passed away a few months before they met, and apparently Shiro had been moved in with the Holts not even a week later. Keith had always known Shiro as a member of the Holt family.
“I also like to bake.” Shiro adds after a moment.
This time, the shock isn’t faked, “You bake?” Keith exclaims.
Shiro grins proudly, nodding his head, “I make a mean apple pie.”
“I bet you can’t make it as good as Hunk can.” Keith teases. Hunk had been in their group in high school too, now off in Paris at some prestigious culinary school.
Shiro gasps, affronted, “Can too!”
“Prove it then!” Keith waggles a finger at Shiro.
They both laugh, but Shiro shakes his head, “I can’t today, I’d have to go into town to pick up some fresh apples, and the snow’s too deep to drive.”
This sobers Keith right up, the smile sliding from his face.
“When do you think it’ll be safe to drive into town?” He asks nervously.
Shiro turns to peer out the window, assessing the snow that continues to fall silently outside. “A couple days, day and a half at least. It depends on when the snow actually stops falling and the sun gets the chance to come out and melt it away.”
Keith's stomach sinks, he feels a mixture of disappointment at having to impose on Shiro another night, but also equally at the thought of having to say goodbye.
Shiro seems to read his mind.
“Does the invitation to Christmas at the Koganes still stand?” He asks teasingly, but his eyes betray an uncertainty.
Keith had completely forgotten that detail of their late night conversation, but immediately pulls out his phone when Shiro reminds him.
His mom picks up on the second ring, “Hi Keith, how’s it going at Shiro’s? Is it just like high school all over again?”
Shiro must hear her, because his cheeks light up red as the tinsel strung across the mantle. Keith gives Shiro a tight smile, and stands to go to the kitchen to talk to Krolia. He reassures her he’s ok, and that he should be able to come home once the snow lets up. The moment Keith asks if Shiro can come with him, she is thrilled and agrees immediately. They say their goodbyes, and Keith hangs up the phone.
Keith takes a steeling breath and turns back to the living room, where Shiro sits by the fireplace, legs crossed, looking up at him expectantly. Keith can’t help but break into a grin, “ She said yes- of course!”
Shiro grins back, but the excitement immediately turns to worry, “What am I gonna bring? I haven’t seen your parents in years!” Shiro exclaims.
Keith laughs, shaking his head, “You don’t have to bring anything! They’ll be glad just to have you there.” He says.
“They really like you, you know.” Keith adds more quietly.
Shiro watches the dancing flames, “I know. I really like them too.”
The weight of all that remains unsaid hangs heavy in the air. Keith walks back into the living room and rejoins Shiro on the floor.
Shiro brings his laptop down and puts on a generic, cheesy Christmas movie. They spread out on the floor and stay there until lunchtime, when Shiro glances at his watch and decides it’s time to eat. He leans across Keith and pauses the movie. They’re at the scene where the leading character realizes maybe the big city isn’t for her after all, and tiny-town Hunk McHunk is really who she belongs with. Shiro gets to his feet with only a minor grunt, and then reaches a hand out to help pull Keith up as well. The rough texture of Shiro’s fingertips slide over Keith’s palm and sends a shiver racing down his spine.
Lunch consists of grilled cheese and canned tomato soup. Once the food is gone, they remain seated across from each other at Shiro’s small kitchen table and catch up on the years lost between them. All too soon, the sun begins to set, which is to say, the gray transitions to black. Shiro stands and does a turn of the living room, plugging in the strings of lights that hang all around. The atmosphere is so warm and cozy, and it strikes Keith all over again how beautiful Shiro is. Shiro must catch him staring because he smiles self-consciously, his left dimple making an appearance. Keith smiles back before forcing his gaze to the fire.
Dinner is quiet, Shiro reheats last night’s leftovers and puts on an episode of some baking show for them to watch as they eat.
Once dinner is over and the dishes have all been washed, Shiro peers out the window, nose to the glass, “It stopped snowing.”
He turns back to Keith with an excited grin on his face, “Come on, I want to show you something.”
Shiro bundles Keith in not two, but three knit sweaters, topping it off with two scarves, gloves, and the giant pom pom hat from last night. Keith feels like an ungainly penguin as he waddles after Shiro, out into the dark evening. They’re deep enough in the mountains that the only illumination comes from Shiro’s yellow porch light, and the moon, which is starting to wane as the end of the month draws near.
Shiro grabs Keith’s hand- for safety, and they trudge through the snow until they reach a little clearing.
There’s nothing particular about it, aside from the fact that it’s devoid of the tall, proud pine trees that cover these mountains. It’s completely silent aside from their crunching footsteps, that unique emptiness after a snowfall fills the air.
Shiro nudges at Keith’s elbow. “Look up” He whispers, pointing towards the sky.
Okay yes this is fucking cheesy, but Keith is literally an aerospace engineering student, so it is justified. Keith watches the stars with awe as Shiro points out constellations. Out here the stars shine brighter than they ever could in the city.
“A bonus perk of living up here.” Shiro grins, “as long as you’re not afraid of the bears.”
Keith whips his head to Shiro in concern, who chuckles at the reaction.
“I’m kidding!”
Keith elbows Shiro in the stomach, and his grunt of pain echoes through the forest.
“Asshole.” Keith hisses.
Shiro shushes him, all teasing forgotten, “Look!”
Keith glances up and catches the tail end of a shooting star flying across the sky.
“That’s fucking dope.” Keith says in quiet amazement.
They stand in silence a few minutes longer before Shiro’s phone rings, shattering the quiet.
He pulls it out of his pocket and curses, “Telemarketer.”
He sends the call to voicemail.
“What song is that, your ringtone?” Keith asks.
“Oh it’s by this group-“ Shiro scrolls through his phone and holds it up for Keith to see.
“They’re great, they’ve got this one song, it’s my favorite.” Shiro searches a moment longer, and presses play.
The song is nothing like Shiro’s ringtone. It’s soft and quiet, the singer crooning along to piano.
“This is nice, reminds me of-“ Keith begins, and Shiro chimes in with a smile, “Of when we danced at prom?”
Keith had been Shiro’s date to prom, because of course he was. It was just as friends, and they’d spent most of the evening with Matt and Pidge anyways. Shiro had always been the more nostalgic one of the two, and when the DJ had announced the slow dance, Shiro had looked at Keith pleadingly.
“This is my last high school dance before I go out into the big, bad adult world. Pleeaase?” Shiro had pouted.
Keith had rolled his eyes and snorted, but only to hide the desperate hammering of his heart. He could never say no to Shiro, and in the end, he had swayed with Shiro, his hands clammy in Shiro’s grasp, heart racing, the whole song. When it was done, Shiro pulled Keith into a hug, and whispered a quiet thank you into his hair.
This time around, it’s Keith who decides to be brave and asks, “You wanna dance?”
Shiro laughs, but shuffles in the snow so that he is facing Keith. He places a hand on each of Keith’s hips, and Keith can barely feel the warmth through all the layers. He brings his hands to rest on Shiro’s shoulders.
The snow is too deep to really move much, so they sway in place. Shiro hums softly along to the tune as the song plays through his phone speakers.
When it’s over, Keith leans his head against Shiro’s chest.
“I’d forgotten how easy it was with you.” He whispers very, very quietly.
But Shiro hears him, and brings his arms up to wrap around Keith’s waist, squeezing him to his body.
“Yeah, me too.” He responds just as quietly.
Here's the truth. It had been the night of the prom- that very one, and they had made it to the afterparty in some kid’s basement where toxic colored punch and cheap cans of beer were being passed around like precious currency. Loud, shitty music blasted through the place, the bass making Keith’s bones rattle. Originally, Keith had planned to remain in the corner with Hunk and Pidge, nursing his beer, but as the night progressed he’d somehow found himself in the middle of the dance circle, facing Shiro once again. Shiro’s cheeks were flushed red, his eyes slightly glazed under the influence.
Someone had handed him a shot and Keith’s toes had curled in his shoes as he watched the bob of Shiro’s throat when he swallowed, the circle chanting him on. A second shot appeared, this time in front of Keith, and before he could really think, he’d swallowed it down in one gulp. Shiro had smiled at him in pride, and something animalistic roared in Keith’s chest. The chants and cheers only continued rising in intensity, and Shiro’s eyes glittered as he grinned at Keith. Shiro was a sunbeam, bright and alive, and maybe the center of Keith’s world. With no real reason or excuse, Keith had taken a step to close the gap between them, and just as Shiro lowered the second shot glass from his mouth, Keith had tipped up and kissed him with courage of unknown origins.
Shiro had kissed back- that was undeniable, but the moment they had pulled away, a vague look of confused horror had marred Shiro’s beautiful face. Keith had escaped to the bathroom, and sat gripping the toilet bowl for what felt like an eternity, puking his guts out. If there were tears streaming into the toilet bowl too, well that was between Keith and god.
Keith had thanked his lucky stars their friends had been in another room, and hadn’t witnessed his drunken mistake. The Incident was never brought up again; they had continued on as best friends and pretended the night in the basement had never happened. Shiro had graduated two months later looking goddamn presidential in the cap and navy gown that only accentuated the breadth of his shoulders. Keith had bid Shiro goodbye only a few short weeks after that, as Shiro left for boot camp. By Keith’s birthday that October, they had stopped speaking altogether.
As they stand intertwined in the quiet clearing, the memory from high school replays in Keith’s mind.
Hating to ruin the good mood, Keith takes a bracing breath, “Shiro, I owe you an apology.”
Confusion slides over Shiro’s face, but he stays silent to give Keith the chance to explain.
“I know it’s been years, you might not even remember… the prom afterparty your senior year,” Keith begins.
Shiro’s eyes widen, and it’s clear he does indeed remember the incident as well.
Keith’s heart quakes, but he soldiers on, “I’m sorry about- that I kissed you. We were both drunk and I didn’t really ask your permission-“
Shiro must clearly see how distraught Keith is over this, because he softly shushes him, laying a hand on his shoulder.
“Keith, I should be the one apologizing. It was a real messy situation, but the way I reacted wasn’t right. I shouldn’t have just left it like that.”
He sighs, “The truth is, when you kissed me and I started to kiss back, I knew I had to stop. You were my best friend, my brother. I was scared of what that kiss might do to our friendship.”
He pauses, and meets Keith gaze, “I was terrified because I didn’t want it to stop. I knew I was leaving in a few months, and no matter how much I may have wanted things to be different between us, I was afraid it would do more damage than good.”
He laughs derisively, “Turns out we didn’t have to be dating for me to fuck it up. The Air Force was intense, and the longer I was away from you, the more it hurt to even think of you-”
It’s Keith’s turn to shush Shiro, shaking his head, “Hey, we talked about it last night. We both fucked up back then, but this is now. I want the chance to do this right. Shiro, I want to be in your life, past this snow storm, past Christmas, ok?”
The look of anguish has not entirely disappeared, but at Keith’s words, Shiro’s expression lightens and he smiles.
“You’ve always been so good to me, Keith Kogane.”
Keith’s stomach twists, and he places a tentative hand on Shiro’s cheek, “So have you, Takashi.” Then he adds, “Let’s go home.”
Once they make it back inside, they climb the ladder to Shiro’s loft and sit across from each other on Shiro’s bed, knees knocking together. Shiro shows Keith his new favorite songs since high school, and Keith tells Shiro all about college and his aerospace studies. Keith smiles so much his cheeks are hurting, and his heart squeezes every time he catches Shiro’s glance.
The whispered words between them in the forest clearing feel like a dam broken. It feels like a rediscovery, but something brand new all at once. It feels like high school, but it was never quite this good in high school. Keith must be dreaming, these past few days just feel too bizarre to be real. Shiro is watching him, the ghost of a grin on his lips. He brushes a tentative finger at Keith’s knee, and Keith’s jeans are ripped because that’s on brand for him. It means that Keith can feel the padded texture of Shiro’s finger on his skin. They both watch as Shiro’s finger runs back and forth across the threads, and Keith’s toes wiggle against Shiro’s thigh.
Shiro does that stupid finger walking thing up Keith’s leg, and yes it does make Keith’s breath shake.
“Shiro-“ Keith starts, but he’s interrupted by a thumb coming up to ghost over Keith’s bottom lip.
“Can I kiss you?” Shiro asks quiet, maybe breathless.
Approximately fifteen different thoughts rush through Keith’s brain all at once, and then boom, it’s a vacuum.
No thoughts.
He nods wordlessly, pushing his face forward.
His mouth bumps into Shiro’s clumsily and Shiro giggles, bringing a hand up to wrap around the back of Keith’s neck. He softly guides Keith back towards him, and their lips meet for real this time.
Kissing Shiro is like a sigh of relief, it’s the comfort of familiarity with the excitement of new, unexplored territory. Shiro licks into his mouth and Keith could cry; he feels so foolish, he should have known. He should have known when a drunken kiss at some stupid high school party left more of a brand on his soul than every other kiss afterwards.
They kiss and kiss, and Keith feels lightheaded and clumsy, desperately out of practice. Shiro tempers him with calm hands and playful smiles. He nips at Keith’s bottom lip and caresses a knuckle over the curve of his neck, and a shiver wracks through Keith’s body at the sensation. Shiro giggles and does it again.
Keith allows himself to admit that maybe Shiro is it for him. The thought terrifies him, but it also feels like coming home. Like putting the burden of fear of loneliness down at the threshold of this little cabin, and finally being free of it.
Somehow Keith is in Shiro’s lap and he’s tempted to grind down and start the course to an inevitable end. He stops himself, pulling back slightly.
They watch each other for a moment before Shiro - as if overwhelmed- buries his face in the crook of Keith’s neck and giggles, “I feel like I’m seventeen again.”
His words are muffled into Keith’s- well really Shiro’s- sweater.
Keith leans back to meet Shiro’s gaze with a shy smile. “This is better than anything I ever did at seventeen.” He softly admits.
Shiro flushes both with guilt and pleasure.
By seventeen, Shiro was barely a phantom in Keith’s life, but it’s okay because now they have a chance to do this right. They’re kissing again, and Shiro slides fingertips beneath the hem of Keith’s sweater in a silent question. When Keith arches into the touch with a soft groan, Shiro takes the invitation and slides his hand across Keith’s bare back. It’s metal and cool, and spans nearly the entire width of Keith’s waist, which does funny things to his brain.
Keith pulls away, taking a moment to catch his breath.
“This is so, so good” he starts, and Shiro nods enthusiastically, fingers idly stroking Keith’s spine.
“Can we just keep it at this for tonight, I’m not- I don’t” before Keith even has to fully explain himself, Shiro nods and presses a kiss to the corner of Keith’s lips.
“Of course baby, we don’t have to do anything tonight, or tomorrow, or whenever. Only when you feel like it.”
Shiro must catch the way Keith freezes as he speaks, “Is it okay if I call you baby?”
The question ends in a whisper, and Keith feels the smile he wears in his throat.
“Yes.”
He leans back in to kiss Shiro just once more before pulling away. He slides from Shiro’s lap, and to the edge of the bed.
He turns to give Shiro a secretive smile, “I’m gonna go get ready for bed.”
Shiro nods, clearing his throat, “O-ok, sounds good” and then he smiles and adds, “baby.”
Ok, so they’re really doing this. Keith is going to burst into flames. He feels like his brain is still fighting to catch up to the last few hours, and the monumental shift between him and Shiro. Monumental but also barely different. That’s what makes Shiro special.
As an eager college freshman, Keith had done his fair share of exploring; hookups and one night stands. By the spring of his sophomore year, Keith was frankly tired of it, accepting that for him, romantic and sexual pursuits were just too much stress and anxiety to really feel worth it. No one had ever forced Keith into anything, or kept going after he’d said no. The problem more lied in the fact that Keith didn’t say no, had sometimes forced himself just a little to keep kissing, and keep going, despite this lingering feeling of being slightly off kilter; off balance. The feeling that seemed to perpetually chase after him.
By the time he returns to the loft, Shiro is changed into his pajamas, and slides past Keith to head downstairs himself. Keith crawls beneath the covers that are still warm from their bodies just a few minutes ago. The snow has started falling again, but Keith finds he’s not all too upset about it. Shiro’s breath smells like mint when he rejoins Keith, placing a kiss on his forehead before laying back on his own pillow.
Shiro turns to switch off the lamp at his bedside table with a casual “Good night, baby.” and shuffles back under the covers.
They lie in silence for a moment before Keith maybe-not-quite hisses “Come here.”
Shiro laughs, but large arms come out to wrap around Keith, pulling him to Shiro’s chest.
“That’s better.” Keith says, not feeling petulant at all.
“Yes, it definitely is.” Shiro humors him.
Shiro slides a hand beneath Keith’s sweater and rests it at the base of Keith’s spine. A quiet spreads in Keith’s chest, deep and warm, as he falls into sleep, breathing to the rhythm of Shiro’s heartbeat.
Keith wakes up, legs entangled with Shiro’s, cheek smushed to Shiro’s broad chest. He makes a bleary sound of confusion, and feels Shiro’s laughter rumble through his throat. Keith pushes himself up, shoving a tangle of hair out of his face, and finds Shiro watching him with a quiet look of endearment.
“Sleep well?” He asks, grinning.
Keith snorts, patting Shiro’s chest.
“Very nice pillow.” He grumbles.
Hair rises on Shiro’s skin everywhere Keith’s fingers touch.
In return, Shiro walks two fingers up Keith’s arm.
“Good morning baby.” He says, smiling cheekily.
Keith shakes his head and tuts, “Nope, we’re not doing any of that ‘baby’ shit until I’ve brushed my teeth and showered.”
Shiro obliges, throwing Keith’s clothes in the wash while Keith’s in the bathroom. He emerges in a fresh sweater of Shiro’s, and a pair of grey sweats rolled up three times around the waist. There’s a hot cup of coffee waiting for him at the table, and Shiro stands over the stove, humming as he flips pancakes.
“You are a true domestic god, you know that?” Keith praises, as he sips his coffee.
Shiro chuckles, and the tips of his ears go pink, “I do my best, baby.”
Right. He’s brushed his teeth and showered. Keith shuffles determinedly to Shiro, making an effort not to trip in Shiro’s too-long sweatpants. He taps Shiro’s cheek lightly, and when he turns, Keith places a smooch right on his lips. He can feel Shiro’s smile as he drops the spatula, and wraps his hands around Keith’s waist.
“That’s a thank you for letting me steal your clothes.” Keith gasps when they pull away.
“Anytime, baby.” Shiro winks.
Keith doesn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, he grabs a pancake from the growing pile on a plate by the stove, and shuffles away as quickly as he can.
“Hey! I haven’t even taken out the maple syrup yet!” Shiro protests.
Keith ignores him, and chews on his pancake in happy silence.
Even though the snow has lightened up significantly, today is just as cold as the last.
It’s a no brainer for Shiro and Keith to dig up every blanket and pillow in Shiro’s house and pile it in front of the fireplace. No, it’s not a pillow fort. They lie together under the mass of blankets and Shiro plays music off his phone, and Keith pulls open a tattered book from Shiro’s shelf and reads aloud as morning turns to afternoon. They take a brief break for lunch, and return to the pillow fort. This time, the book lays forgotten and they kiss instead. It’s slow and building, and Keith just basks in Shiro’s presence, in his closeness. Lying here, legs tucked between Shiro’s, hand at the back of his neck, Keith feels balanced and quiet and good.
They kiss and kiss and Keith didn’t know it could feel this nice. Kissing has always felt forced for Keith, too slimy and intimate for his liking, overwhelming and not in the good way. Kissing served as a precursor to better things, and never really felt worth Keith’s time. With Shiro, it’s different. Keith could kiss the taste from his mouth forever. Keith’s chest feels raw at the revelation, and he is once again struck by the all-consuming thought that maybe this is it. Maybe this is coming home. Keith pulls back, overcome. His breaths come out in pants and he feels a slight itch at the back of his throat. Shiro is watching him. He brings a hand up to push the hair out of Keith’s face, and it comes to rest below his ear, at the point where his jaw meets his neck.
“Hello” Keith whispers, maybe unsteady.
Shiro smiles, “Hello yourself.”
He knows Shiro can tell there’s something going on in Keith’s mind, but as always, he’s not one to push without Keith offering. Keith kind of wants to tell Shiro, to release this burdened feeling he’s carried around for so long, but he’s not sure how.
“I think you’re different,” Keith whispers, “from everyone else.”
Keith echoes his words from the night before, out in the forest, “Everything’s easier with you. I don’t have to try, or worry that I’m doing it right. I don’t have to think.”
He doesn’t know if he’s expressing himself properly, but Shiro is stroking his cheek, a soft smile playing on his lips.
“You’re my favorite.” Shiro responds. Favorite kiss, favorite friend, favorite human, he doesn’t clarify, but Keith understands.
He surges forward, kissing Shiro as he rolls them so that he sits straddling Shiro’s lap, Shiro slightly red and bemused, lying on the floor beneath him.
“This okay?” He ensures between kisses, and Shiro mumbles a “God, yes.” across his lips.
Keith groans, “It’s been a while” he feels the need to inform Shiro.
Shiro just chuckles, hands sliding beneath Keith’s sweater, “I bet it’s been even longer for me.”
Keith knows it’s meant to be a joke, but it breaks his heart just a little. Shiro never really had boyfriends in high school, but that doesn’t necessarily guarantee he graduated a virgin. Past high school, Keith’s guess is as good as any. Up here, all alone in the mountains? Doubtful.
He surges back into their kiss, demandingly tugging at Shiro’s sweater.
“Off” he manages to mumble between kisses, and Shiro obliges.
He rises from where he’s tucked between Keith’s thighs, and tugs the shirt over his head. Keith catches his breath as he runs admiring hands over Shiro’s torso.
“Fuck.” He says quietly, meaningfully.
The tips of Shiro’s ears turn red and he giggles. Keith notes the shiver that runs through Shiro’s body when a finger grazes one of his nipples, and does it a second time, for good measure.
“You’re real pretty, you know?” Keith observes, aware of his own ragged breathing, and how hot his skin feels.
Now Shiro’s cheeks are pink too.
“I should be the one complimenting you!” He huffs, tugging at Keith’s sleeve.
Keith lifts up his sweater to pull it over his head and off his body. If he arches his spine slightly as Shiro ogles him, it’s neither here nor there. Shiro cups him with those stupidly enormous hands and bends to lay kisses across Keith’s neck and chest. He nips and sucks like he’s trying to leave marks. The thought makes Keith moan, and he clutches at Shiro’s shoulders, nails digging into his skin.
Shiro pulls back slightly to catch his breath and nips at Keith’s ear, “You’re tasty.”
It’s meant to be a joke, but there’s nothing funny about the rough edge to his voice, and the tent in his pants Keith can definitely feel against his thigh.
“This is just the appetizer, big guy.” Keith pants.
Shiro grins sharply, and takes the invitation to tug at Keith’s pants in a silent question. Keith eagerly helps Shiro shimmy his pants down his hips, the waist is so loose on Keith, it doesn’t take much effort. As the sweats come down, Keith’s cock bobs up against his stomach, already dark red at the tip. Right, his underwear’s in the dryer.
He writhes and moans when Shiro runs a finger down the length of him and hums, “I knew you’d be pretty everywhere.”
Keith is going to combust, he’s going to eat Shiro alive.
“Want you to fuck me” he groans, grinding against Shiro’s still clothed cock, the friction delicious over his bare skin.
Shiro’s moan is choked off by a “Fuck.” before he lifts his hips, lifting Keith with him as he struggles to pull his own pants off. Keith shifts to help, and Shiro’s grey briefs are already graced with a small, dark stain where his cock strains against the fabric. Keith pants at the sight. Shiro’s just as fucking affected as he is.
Keith doesn’t give Shiro the chance to kick his pants off before asking, “Underwear too?” to which Shiro rolls his eyes with laughter, and nods his head.
Then they’re naked, lying in a pile of blankets in front of the crackling fire. Keith is straddling Shiro, who looks angelic beneath him. Keith’s heart thunders in his chest, and he feels outside of his own body, light and giddy.
“Can we stay like this?” Keith asks quietly, gesturing vaguely at their positions. Shiro seems to understand, nodding eagerly as he brings his hands back up to rest at Keith’s hips.
“Of course, baby. Whatever you want.” Shiro says, placing a kiss to Keith’s mouth.
“Gotta get some lube and condoms upstairs.” He mumbles against Keith’s lips.
Keith shakes his head, “No condom.”
Keith wants to be selfish. The first time he has sex with Shiro, he wants to feel it.
They separate for a moment while Shiro goes upstairs to get lube. He really wasn’t expecting anything until Keith explicitly asked. It’s the bare fucking minimum, but it’s still so nice.
Keith unabashedly admires Shiro’s beautiful ass as he climbs back down the ladder, lube in hand. He has the audacity to blush when he catches Keith staring, but Keith’s distracted. Shiro’s cock is hard between his thighs, it’s long and thick, and shit, it’s as pretty as the rest of him.
“Get over here” Keith all but growls, and Shiro hurries over. Keith pulls him down by the hand, and resituates them so that he’s once again sitting astride Shiro’s hips. He bends forward, pulling Shiro to him, kissing him fiercely. Keith snakes a hand between them, and wraps it around Shiro’s cock, giving him a couple of firm strokes.
Shiro groans into his mouth, “Fuck, baby, Keith.” He stutters, hips rocking Keith where he sits straddling Shior’s thighs.
“Wanna open you up, baby.” Shiro rasps.
Keith pouts, but allows himself to be moved gently by Shiro, who spreads Keith’s thighs apart and leans Keith against his chest, spreading lube on his fingers.
Shiro caresses his prosthetic hand down the length of Keith’s spine before his human one prods at Keith’s hole, wet and warm. Keith groans, and Shiro sits up slightly, back leaning against the couch. Keith’s cock rubs up against Shiro’s stomach as Shiro slowly slides a thick finger inside him. Keith groans, eyes screwed shut in pleasure, adjusting to the sensation. It’s been a long time since he’s felt someone else’s fingers, and it’s the first time outside of his dreams that he’s felt Shiro’s.
Shiro is slow and meticulous, opening Keith up with only Keith’s pleasure and comfort in mind. Keith shouts and squeezes around him as Shiro crooks two fingers just right and electricity races up Keith’s spine and curls his toes.
“That’s right, baby.” Shiro’s voice is low and focused, and god that shouldn’t be so fucking hot.
Shiro prods that spot again, and Keith hasn’t even got Shiro’s dick in him yet and he’s already going to fucking cry.
“Please Shiro, more” his voice is a desperate rasp. He lays against Shiro, his thighs spread obscenely across Shiro’s lap, mouth agape against Shiro’s shoulder in silent pleasure.
“Anything for you, baby.” Shiro whispers into Keith’s hair.
He slowly eases a third finger in, and Keith swears he feels a tear slip. He turns his head to place a kiss to Shiro’s shoulder, and Shiro brings a hand up briefly to cup Keith’s head to him. It’s been so long since Keith’s done this, and he feels so spread open, so satisfyingly full on Shiro’s fingers alone, he’s impatient to have Shiro inside him properly. He shifts against Shiro, and his cock already feels raw where it slides against Shiro’s abdomen. The trail of hair below Shiro's belly glistens with Keith’s precome.
“Please Shiro, want you inside me.” Keith nearly cries with desire, thumping a weak fist at Shiro’s arm. Shiro shushes him with a kiss, holding Keith’s chin in his hand as he guides Keith’s mouth.
“Alright baby.” He reassures, gently withdrawing his fingers, leaving Keith feeling woefully empty. Shiro lies back against the blankets beneath him, so that Keith is straddling him properly. He anchors Keith with both hands at his hips.
“You comfortable up there, baby?” He asks.
Keith feels so overwhelmed, he finds it difficult to form a coherent thought, but he nods eagerly.
“Yeah, wanna stay just like this please” He rasps.
Shiro takes Keith’s words as a cue to lift him by the hips, guiding him over his cock. Keith can feel the head rubbing over his hole and shudders, moaning Shiro’s name. Shiro holds him steady as Keith lowers himself, panting at the sweet pain-pleasure that is Shiro filling him. When he’s fully sheathed, Shiro lies still and waits for Keith to keep moving. His cheeks are bright red, and he’s panting like he’s run a marathon. He smiles sweetly, but strained up at Keith. When Keith finally moves, swaying his hips and grinding against Shiro, as if to take him in deeper, Shiro breaks and throws his head back in moan. His fingers squeeze hard at Keith’s hips, and Keith hopes they bruise a little.
“Fuck, baby” Shiro chokes, “You feel so fucking good.”
Keith lifts himself on shaky legs and drops back down onto Shiro’s cock, shuddering around him at the impact. Shiro’s moan is just a drawn out form of Keith’s name, his eyes squeezed shut in pleasure. Satisfaction fills Keith, and he lifts himself to drop back down again, just to watch Shiro’s pleasure. Keith feels so full, and Shiro’s cock nails his prostate on every stroke. Keith begins a more frantic pace, bouncing himself on Shiro’s dick, moaning his name. Too quickly, Keith’s thighs begin to burn, and he leans forwards, anchoring both hands on Shiro’s chest. He tweaks a nipple, and Shiro moans, thrusting up into him.
“Come on, baby” Shiro pants, bending forward to watch, enraptured, as his cock disappears inside Keith.
Keith whines, hands kneading at Shiro’s chest, but refuses to relent.
Shiro’s hands trail over Keith’s body, across his chest, down his arms. He tugs at Keith’s cock between them, and Keith curls forward, overwhelmed. Shiro moves to cup and squeeze at Keith’s ass, spreading him apart and deepening the impact on every thrust. Keith’s face falls forwards, and his hair is wild in his eyes. He can feel a wave building at his core, and his heart thunders in his chest.
“Come on baby, show me what you’ve got.” Shiro says, eyes dark, voice low.
Then he gives a little slap to Keith’s ass, nothing painful, but it’s enough to spin Keith’s world inside out. He cries out, and feels very real tears on his cheeks.
Keith curls forward with a groan, nail scratching at Shiro’s chest, and chokes, “Again”.
“Baby.” Shiro groans, this time bringing his metal hand down to smack his ass a second time. Keith screams.
Shiro only has to lay a couple more light smacks to Keith’s ass before Keith is coming untouched across both their chests, screaming Shiro’s name. The world rings, and he can feel his heart beating in his veins. He slumps forward against Shiro, cum sticky between their skin.
“You’re so good, baby.” Shiro pants, running soothing hands down Keith’s back. Keith shrugs him off as he feels Shiro still hard inside him.
“Why’d you stop?” His voice rasps.
Shiro stares at him a moment, “Baby, you just came, you don’t need to keep going.”
Keith’s heart feels too warm, “I want you to.” He mumbles, avoiding Shiro’s gaze.
To prove it, he rocks against Shiro, and immediately groans at the oversensitivity. Shiro gasps at Keith’s movement, so Keith does it again.
“Want you to cum inside me.” Keith adds a little louder.
“Baby.” Shiro says in awe, softly pushing Keith’s hair out of his face and caressing his cheek, lifting Keith’s face to meet his gaze.
“You want to feel me cum inside you when you’re all sensitive and spent?” He asks it like it’s praise, and it makes Keith shiver.
“Want it with you” Keith manages to choke out. He determinedly tries to raise himself up again, but his thighs feel like jelly, and he can’t find the energy to support his own weight. Shiro catches him before he can fall, sitting back up with a sofa behind them for support.
“Want you to take what you need, Shiro” Keith desperately tries to explain, the all consuming desire burning in his stomach.
“Fuck, what did I do to deserve you?” Shiro’s voice is raw.
Keith feels stripped bare, and he raises himself once more from Shiro’s lap, lowering himself back onto Shiro’s cock. The sensation feels like too much so soon after orgasm, but Keith basks in it. He rocks in Shiro’s lap, urging him to continue. Shiro sets the pace this time, thrusting into Keith desperately, hurtling towards the edge. Keith shudders in oversensitivity as Shiro’s movements become erratic, and he groans a mantra of Keith’s name against his skin. Shiro comes hard, clutching at Keith’s hips, filling him.
They stay like that from a moment as Shiro catches his breath, and Keith closes his eyes in exhaustion.
Shiro moves to lift Keith off of him, and Keith allows himself to be lifted. Shiro lays him carefully on the blankets, and smiles down at him.
Keith’s eyes fall closed. He feels sated and quiet, and just wants to lie here and bask in it for a moment. He reaches up for Shiro, and pulls him down to him so that they lay beside each other.
Shiro places a sweet kiss to Keith’s cheek, “You’re fucking amazing baby.” He says quietly.
Keith nods, not quite ready to talk, and Shiro chuckles, “Guess I’ve tired you out, huh?”
Keith smiles and nods again, burrowing into the crook of Shiro’s neck, and breathing in the slightly-sweaty-Shiro smell of him.
They lie there together for what feels like an eternity, limbs entangled, slow music playing from Shiro’s phone. Keith drifts, and he must fall asleep for a bit, because when he opens his eyes, the sun has set, and the sky is dark.
Shiro lies quietly watching him, and smiles when Keith meets his gaze.
“I love you.” He says.
“I love you too.” Keith responds.
This is far from the first time they’ve exchanged those words, but never quite like this.
They slowly untangle from each other. Shiro helps Keith stand, and Keith is selfishly satisfied when he feels Shiro’s cum drip between his thighs. Goosebumps rise on Keith's skin, and Shiro wraps him in a blanket, before gathering the rest from the floor, and throwing them in the wash. Shiro places a possessive but gentle hand at the small of Keith’s back as he guides him to the bathroom, Keith’s blanket trailing behind them like a cape. Keith showers for the second time that day, but this time with Shiro. The shower may be too small to fit them both, but they make it work. Shiro insists on helping Keith wash, and Keith agrees, admitting he feels a little exhausted. Shiro chuckles, and kisses him.
When Shiro lathers shampoo in his hands, and begins massaging it through Keith’s hair, it’s an effort for Keith not to cry. When Shiro is done, and the shampoo is all rinsed out of Keith’s hair, he insists on returning the favor. Shiro has to bend forward slightly so Keith can reach, since he is in no state to be standing on his tiptoes. Keith watches as Shiro’s shoulders drop, and his muscles visibly loosen as he massages Shiro’s scalp, and that makes him want to cry a little bit too. Keith can’t deny the pang of anger and regret at the thought that maybe Shiro has needed him just as much as he’s needed Shiro all this time.
When they finish showering, Shiro wraps Keith up in a tight towel burrito. When Keith glowers at him, Shiro laughs and tells Keith he looks like an angry, wet kitten, which makes Keith glower deeper. Once they are both dry and dressed, they mutually agree that boxed mac and cheese is the only suitable menu option for dinner tonight. They sit pressed against each other on the couch as they eat, and watch another episode of that baking show Shiro loves. Keith remembers the judge’s names, and there’s even a contestant he’s rooting for this time. Once they are done, Shiro stands and takes their bowls back to the sink and rinses them out. As Keith watches him across the room, he thinks that this little cabin is starting to feel like home.
The next morning, Shiro’s side of the bed is empty, but there’s a note on the pillow in Shiro’s neat handwriting. It explains that the roads are finally clear enough for Shiro to go to the store and get the ingredients for apple pie. He hadn’t forgotten Keith’s stupid bet. Keith falls back against his pillow, and looks out the window, where indeed, the sun shines bright, and the icicles that have accumulated at the edge of the roof melt in fat drops of water. He freezes when he hears a clang from below, but when he reaches the ladder to go downstairs, he finds Shiro’s already home, and busy in the kitchen.
“Shiro!” Keith exclaims as he scrambles down the ladder.
Shiro turns, his face breaking into a bright smile as he spots Keith.
“Good morning, baby.”
“I thought you were at the store?” Keith asks, as he approaches to observe Shiro, who wears fuzzy pajama pants covered with striped candy canes, and peels a pile of shiny green apples on the counter.
“I got home a little while ago, I just wasn’t sure how early you’d wake up, and I didn’t want you to worry.” Shiro explains.
Keith wraps his arms around Shiro’s broad chest, and places a soft kiss to the back of Shiro’s neck, where the knobs of his spine begin. He leaves briefly to use the bathroom and brush his teeth, kissing Shiro properly when he returns.
“How you feeling, baby?” Shiro asks, eyes focused on the knife in his hand.
Keith blushes, unsure of whether Shiro means in general, or specifically in reference to yesterday afternoon.
“I’m good.” Keith says, before kissing Shiro a second time for good measure.
Keith pours himself a cup of coffee and drinks as he watches Shiro work. Once the mug is empty, he joins to help Shiro roll out the pie dough, and line two round pans. One for them, and one to bring to Keith’s family, Shiro explains. They both get ready for the day, and Shiro packs a small overnight bag as the pies bake, filling the cabin with sweet aromas. A red and white chicken timer rings to let them know the pies are ready. Keith bounces with impatience while they wait for the pies to cool. Shiro distracts him with the task of preparing sandwiches and snacks for the road. When Shiro finally deems the pies an edible temperature, they sit at the kitchen table, thighs pressed to each other. Shiro cuts them each a generous serving of warm apple pie. He watches eagerly as Keith takes a bite, and groans, closing his eyes in delight.
“How is it?” Shiro asks impatiently.
“Fucking amazing, I could kiss you!” Keith exclaims through a mouthful of pie. Then he does, leaning across the table, and smooching Shiro on the cheek.
Shiro laughs, “Is it better than Hunk’s?”
Keith pretends to think for a moment.
“Well I am a little biased, but I think it’s a yes.” Keith grins, taking another bite.
Shiro cheers, and digs into his own slice.
“I told you so!” He says, mouth full.
Keith laughs, “You were right, you were right!”
They sit together at the kitchen table, eating and laughing, until it’s time to go.
Keith convinces Shiro to leave the truck behind, so that they can both ride in his car to his parent’s house. Shiro agrees on the condition that he drives until they reach the highway. The snow has definitely melted a good deal, but Shiro insists as a precaution, since he’s got more experience driving in these mountains.
They leave the house, stomachs full with apple pie, and pile their belongings into the old Corolla. Keith calls his parents to let them know they’ll be there in a few hours, just in time for Christmas eve dinner. Keith sits with the second pie wrapped up and still warm in his lap, as he watches the road wind amidst the towering pine trees. They drive the snow-covered roads towards the highway in silence, the sound of the heater filling the quiet. Shiro is beautiful in profile, as he dutifully focuses on the road ahead, but Keith can’t help himself, and places a chaste kiss to his cheek. The tips of Shiro’s ears go red as he smiles, and Keith’s heart somersaults.
Keith doesn’t know exactly how all of this will play out, but he knows it will be good, and that they will be okay. He can’t remember looking forward to Christmas this much in a long time.