Chapter Text
Shoveling two feet of snow was not how Keith wanted to spend his last hour at work, but it needed to get done before the closing cashier got there. The ground had been just fine when he'd arrived nearly eight hours ago, slushy at the worst, but it seemed like the near constant overcast clouds above their pathetically tiny city decided to finally shit all over them.
Huffing and shoving at the tip of the shovel to break up some ice, he almost considers bumming the job to one of the new kids, but then he remembers its Tuesday, and the only nice lady in this stupid town was coming to do her weekly shopping tonight. Keith couldn't let her down with a shoddy shoveling job, could he?
The answer was no, he couldn't.
Getting the parking lot and sidewalks in front of the store cleared and salted brought him past his designated leave time, but he'd be damned if he didn't do a fucking fantastic job. His feet may be numb from the cold, but at least Ms. Roberts will be able to traverse safely to and from the front of the store; the thirty feet between her car and the doors could be especially treacherous during the winter.
Clocking out and grabbing his usual from the store (a pack of smokes and a pre-made sandwich), he ventured out to his shoddy truck and hunkered down, defrosting the windsheild and all but inhaling the sandwich. Days like this almost made him miss the warm desert sun in Arizona. Sometimes he even missed the sunburns and excessive sweating, but those days were now few and far between.
Moving to this quaint town in Washington when he was legally able to had been the best decision Keith had made in his twenty one and a half years of life. The town was big enough that truckers and road-trippers would stop at the gas station or the single McDonalds they had, but small enough to keep the hotel relatively empty at all times of the year. The faces he saw at the gas station and local restaurants were all the same, and have been for years; occasionally they'd hire an eager teenager who would quickly realize adult life is anything but glamorous, and the initial excitement was always a nice change.
He loved living there for many reasons, but the main one was that no one asked why he picked their city out of anywhere in the world, or why he lived so far out of the town. Everyone mainly stuck to themselves or gossiped about who married who or which dumbass high schooler did what. He had Miss Roberts who was like a mother to him, and maybe a few stray drinking buddies, but that was it. Keith absolutely loved it.
Chewing on the last of his sandwich, he put his truck into drive and crossed his fingers that his beloved scrap heap of a vehicle would make it home. It was old and rattled far more than it should, but it did the job when the roads weren't suitable for his bike. He knows he should just bite the bullet and shell out some of his savings for something that won't rattle to the point he can't have drinks in it, but what’s the point in getting something new when this one still works?
Ms. Roberts always pointed out the flaws in his logic, but Keith will always choose to ignore her knowledge until his truck is being torn apart for scraps.
Despite the heavy snow lining the roads, his truck made it another day and got him home safely; only a minor slide when he turned into his lengthy driveway, but he could handle that without deeming the truck ‘not safe for roads’ as Ms. Roberts lovingly deems it.
Clicking a button opens his garage door, and he drives in, watching his headlights reflect off of the white wall in front of him before they shut off, along with the truck. Hopping out, he stood at the line between warmth and frozen hell, breaking open his new pack of cigarettes and lighting one up with practiced ease.
As Keith considered what he should do with the rest of the day (caught between shoveling snow and lazing around for the rest of his measly afternoon), he realized that he has another being to take care of, and made his way to the garages interior door and let out his unbearably large wolf-dog. He can already hear Kosmo’s excited panting, and makes sure to brace himself as he pushes open the door. Immediately, there’s almost two hundred pounds of dog trying to barrel him down for slimey licks before Keith calms him enough for his dog to get the memo and dash out into the snow, doing his business before galloping and rolling in the powder.
As usual, Keith rolls his eyes with a bemused smile and works on finishing his cig while Kosmo snorts into the snow and fools himself into thinking he’s chasing something. While his dog digs around for one of the many tennis balls left out there, Keith pulls out his phone and idly scrolls through a random social media app, checking to see if anything newsworthy has happened in the last few hours. As per usual, there's nothing particularly eye catching on there, and he goes back to looking at Kosmo.
Wait, where the fuck did his dog go?
Keith groans, trudging out into the building snow to follow his dog's prints towards the back of the house. Kosmo was a vocal dog; he seemed to always want his human to go to where he is or give him his much deserved attention, and made sure to make Keith very aware of his needs through howling, yipping, and his favorite: back talking. They argued frequently; sometimes over a bath, other times over the bed. The current dilemma though, was that Kosmo was silent. He couldn't hear any playful growls or barks for attention.
Taking another drag from his cigarette, he continued to follow the path of large paw prints until he found Kosmo. And of fucking course, his wonderful, perfect puppy was staring down a larger, more aggressive and bloody looking puppy. Big puppy. Very big. While Kosmo was nearing Keith’s height on his hind legs, this new wolf looks more than twice the size of his dog. Quickly, Keith whistled twice; Kosmo’s command for heel. While mister big and bloody looks over at the human, Kosmo retreats behind his dumb human, ready to defend at a moments notice. What a good boy.
Now to deal with the wolf. It didn’t look angry persay; there wasn’t any bared teeth or rumbling growls or anything. The canine was mostly white, with flecks of black mixed into his fur, and from here he could tell there was a long scar across his snout. And still, it was silent, staring. Keith wasn’t sure if he preferred a big growling wolf, but honestly, at least then he’d know that the thing was angry; right now he wasn’t sure what to think. Slowly, oh so slowly, the wolf walked forward, causing Keith to try and walk backwards. Which of course fails, and he falls flat on his ass next to Kosmo.
Now, he can hear his own panicked breaths as the wolf drew closer, the canine’s breaths heavier and slower save for a small hitch at the end. Kosmo starts growling in response, pressing up behind his person, tense. You gotta calm down, Keith tells himself, this thing might not stay so calm for much longer. But the wolf just kept getting closer, and closer, until he was right in Keith’s face, breathing heavily onto the humans face for a moment before huffing and licking his cheek and whimpering. Kosmo stops growling but stays tense behind him, presumably staring down the wolf.
What the fuck is going on? What the actual fuck is going on?
Tentatively, Keith reaches out to pet behind one of the wolf's ears, much like he would Kosmo, and of course, the heavy dog leans into it and his ears perk up a bit. Ok. So. He’s got a friendly wolf standing in front of him, who also happens to be bleeding from various wounds on his body. What Keith should do is ring the wildlife people up the road and have them deal with it - maybe he's from the sanctuary a few miles north? That would be the smart thing to do. But does Keith always make smart decisions? No, most of the time he prefers to follow impulse, like right now, where he’s slowly standing and walking backwards towards his front door, leading the wolf to his garage.
Before you ask him: No. He has no idea what the hell he’s gonna do with a giant, injured wolf in his garage, but he’ll be damned if he couldn’t at least offer it some aid. After getting the big guy to lay down by patting the floor gently, he rushed into the house and scrambled for his first aid kit and a piece of leftover chicken for the wolf to snack on while Keith tended to him. The wolf oh so gently takes the meat from Keith’s hand, then chews on it and pulls it apart easily- god, why is this wolf so fucking weird .
Huffing, Keith got to work locating and cleaning the wounds he could find; most weren’t serious, just grazes that managed to draw blood, so he poured some saline solution on then rinsed with some water, since he really didn’t know what was safe for wolves. Easy enough; he’s admittedly cleaned up worse on himself. Now that he was up close though, he noticed how scarred up the wolf is, especially the front right leg. Pink and white scars criss-crossed and circled the leg, interrupting the soft, short fur. Keith didn't dare touch it - he was already lucky he hadn't been mauled.
Where did this wolf come from? What has he been through? Keith thinks as he looks over the creature, abandoning the train of thought as he now needed to figure out what to do with this giant, friendly wolf for the night. Does he try and nudge it out? Let him stay? There isn’t exactly a handbook on taking care of injured, full blooded wolves - at least he didn’t think there was.
Cautiously, he sat down and pet at the ears of his patient; he seemed to like that, and laid his giant head in Keith’s lap, closing his eyes and resting. He should give a call to the wildlife rescue soon and let them know whats up, probably see if they’ll come collect this massive boy, but… A quick peek outside said the roads are gonna be bad, and he didn’t want to risk them coming out before the plows got to the ice covered hell paths.
With a heaving sigh, he decides to let the wolf stay in his garage for the night; pile some blankets on top of him, give him some extra meat or something, just until the morning.
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After tending to the wolf and making a note to call the wildlife rescue, Keith set about cleaning his small house, which mainly consisted of a few dishes, sweeping, and de-furring the house due to Kosmo’s constant shedding. It’s currently in a lull due to his dog hoarding it for the winter, but as soon as spring hits and its all wet weather, he is going to make another dog from the hair he collects from a simple brushing.
Once the house is sufficiently de-furred and clean, Keith goes about making some dinner for himself, as well as the two wolves in his current possession. He’s got some steak in his fridge saved for the end of the week, and but he supposes harboring a wild animal in his garage was special enough to make it now. He bought two larger cuts, knowing he'd be making one for Kosmo anyways, so it wouldn't be an issue to let the big guy share some too.
When he’s pan seared the steaks, and effectively smoked himself out of his own home, he sits on the ground in the garage and eats with the other two occupying his home. They gratefully dig into their own meals, happily munching on their treats while Keith feels at least a little civilized since he’s using a knife and fork. It’s about as civilized as he’s gonna get, seeing as he’s eating dinner with his half wolf dog and a wild wolf that he's adopted for the night.
While he’s enjoying this little cuddle session with the boys, it's nearing bedtime and Keith has an already scheduled date with his shower. So, he got up and gathered a few more blankets, piling them on the wolf so he doesn't get too cold, then went back inside and hopped in the shower. After he's clean and dry, he steps outside for one last smoke before bed, letting Kosmo do his own thing before they retire for the evening. He checks on the wolf he was harboring before he went back inside, watching the slow rise and fall of the pile of blankets before finally deciding he needed to get some sleep too.
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There were few mornings that he could wake up without an alarm, and usually consisted of him being lazy and sleeping in until noon (save for letting Kosmo out in the morning, but to be honest, he isn't sure if he's ever fully awake for that). Today though, Keith was woken up by the sound of glass breaking on the other side of his admittedly small home.
Jolting awake, he looks around his room and at the door, seeing if maybe Kosmo just managed to open the door and break something. Unfortunately, his dog stood at the door, nose shoved against the crack and ears pointed forward.
Rolling out of bed, he slips on the nearest pair of boots and grabs the blade off of his nightstand. A tee-shirt, boxers, and boots weren't going to do him much good, but it was something at least. Keith took his place next to Kosmo, took a deep breath, then slowly opened the door. Peering out into the hallway, it was all clear, but now he could hear someone's frustrated mumbling in the kitchen.
Keith walked out slowly, putting his free hand behind his back and feeling a little more at ease with Kosmo patiently following him out. They were both pressed against the wall, right where the kitchen tile began but still out of sight. Peering around the corner, Keith was stunned enough to almost drop his knife.
A giant, basically naked man stood in the middle of his kitchen, using some of his blankets to keep decent. His hair had a little white tuft in the front, and a long scar ran from one cheek to the next, crossing over the chiseled nose of the man. There was glass everywhere on the floor - it looks like he broke one of Keith's clear glass cups.
After another moment, he took a deep breath, motioned for Kosmo to stay, then rounded the corner and charged the man with a yell. Although Keith was at least 6 inches shorter than the intruder, he was able to overtake the other easily. After successfully knocking the man down, he sat on his chest and pressed the knife to his throat, doing his best to keep his breathing steady.
“Who the fuck are you and why are you in my house?” Keith shouts, body tense.
“W-Wait, please just- I can explain!” The man beneath him yelped out, a terrified look on his face. Keith pulls the knife away slightly, but still close enough to hurt if need be.
“You have 30 seconds to explain,” Keith says with a stern voice. For the first few seconds, the man is a goldfish, supposedly looking for words where there are none. Keith nudges the knife a little closer. For encouragement, of course.
Finally, the guy blurts out, “I was lost! I- I was wandering through the woods and- Your garage was open so-”
“So you just invited yourself into a strangers home?!” Keith cries, incredulously. He lowers the knife, unable to believe a thief could lie that badly. “Look asshole, I'm going to get up and call the cops; you've broken into my house. And why the fuck aren't you wearing clothes? How did you even-”
The wolf.
Keith jumps up, stumbling over to the garage door and wrenching it open, hoping to find the wolf from last night all curled up on the floor. He was met with gray concrete - no wolf in sight. Whirling around, he stomps towards the guy, who is scrambling back with one arm. “Where's the wolf? What did you do to him?” Keith was seething at this point, angry that this man probably chased that sweet, injured wolf away.
“N-Nothing! I promise! He- He was already gone when I got here! I swear!” The man rushes out. Keith can see the sweat gathering on his brow.
He's lying.
He presses the knife closer, lips drawn in an almost feral snarl. In all honesty, he was a little too worked up over this; even he could see that. But the thing is - he’s tired. He’s tired, and hasn't had to deal with anything more dangerous than black ice and an angry customer in months. His combat boots crunched with each step and shift of his feet, broken bits of glass having found their way into the tread of his shoes.
Keith keeps the knife to the man’s throat for another few moments before sighing and letting his hand fall away from the stranger’s neck. There was no way this guy could win in a fight against him, anyways. The guys’ more bare than Keith, and seems to be down an arm already. The other also seemed to… Radiate fear, as if it were a tangible emotion that Keith could see and touch. And, although his trust of people had already been worn thin many years ago, seeing the truth behind human emotion has always been his strong point.
“Okay,” He starts softly, looking down with a huff before meeting the stranger’s strangely grey eyes once more. “Okay. Let’s start again. Why are you in my house? Are you actually lost? Are- Is someone dangerous chasing you?” It’s rational in Keith’s mind; much better than what he was moments ago, at least. He’s had to hide in a stranger's home for safety; he gets it.
The stranger swallows, chest stuttering on a nervous inhale. “I- I am hiding from someone but… It’s really complicated. I just-” The cogs turned visibly in the man’s head, searching for words. “I saw your garage was open so I … Walked in and kind of knocked over a glass trying to get some water. It wasn’t very polite of me to walk into a stranger’s home but…” Gunmetal eyes turned to meet Keith’s, an almost puppy dog look to them. “I was so cold, and I figured you were sleeping, so…”
Keith bites his lip, considering the other’s words. On one hand, there was 220 pounds of pure naked muscle sitting in his kitchen, having welcomed himself into his home; his intentions could most definitely be impure. The other hand though… This man seemed to be honest, his exhausted eyes pleading for somewhere warm and safe to stay. Keith knows well enough what it’s like begging at a stranger’s door for safety, an abuser closing in. A sigh escapes Keith, already knowing this is a battle he’s long lost.
“Well, I can’t promise that I can fend off whoever’s chasing you, but you can stay here for the time being,” He stands from where he was basically sitting on the intruder, squinting at the man below him. “But don’t think for a second you can take advantage of my hospitality. I will not hesitate to leave your ass outside to freeze.”
The bigger man seemed to take the threat very seriously, nodding quickly. “Yeah, no, I mean- Of course. Thank you. ”
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After sweeping up the glass shards strewn across the floor, Keith ventures back to his room to throw on something more than his flimsy underwear and to get something for the bulky stranger. He puts on one of his many pairs of sweatpants and a sweater before rummaging through all of his clothing for at least something for this guy. A pair of warm sweats with the cords all the way undone paired his his most oversized t-shirt looked like they could fit, and Keith hoped to god they would. Nothing else he had would fit that absolute beefcake.
Walking back out to the kitchen, he frowns slightly. The stranger is still on the floor, laughing as Kosmo licks his face and barking playfully. That was certainly… Odd. As much of a giant puppy his dog is, usually it takes at least a few days to get to this level of dog giddiness with a stranger. Big Guy notices Keith watching after a few moments, and tries to gently push Kosmo away, a guilty look on his face as if he’d been caught with a hand in the cookie jar. It lasts for a moment before Kosmo goes back to excitedly licking his face, drawing another warm laugh out of the man.
Keith let’s himself relax a little, admiring the sunshiney smile the other man gave the wolf dog. It was cute. Clearing his throat, he whistles twice and Kosmo is immediately at his side, though his butt wiggles a bit with excitement. He tosses the clothes at the other, running a hand behind his dog’s ears to calm him.
“You’re… Obviously a lot bigger than I am, so I hope those will fit,” Keith says, turning to busy himself with getting water for the both of them so he won’t ogle the beefy guy. He keeps his face turned away while fabric shifts around behind him.
“Thank you,” The guy says earnestly, walking forward a bit to pet at Kosmo some more. “I know letting a strange man into your home wasn’t on your three am agenda.”
Keith scoffs, but still hands the other a cup of water. He eagerly drains the water with vigor, seeming to relish in the fact that he’s actually getting some. “Well, most things aren’t on my three am agenda,” He licks his lips, wishing he’d already drained his own cup of water. “If you don’t mind me asking… Who are you running from?”
The guy tenses, taking a long breath through his nose before speaking. “Like I said it’s… Hard to explain,” He says softly, setting his glass on the counter before petting Kosmo again. “There are… Really, really bad people chasing me. I don’t really know where they’re coming from. I- I don’t even know where I came from… To get here, anyways.”
Keith felt himself loosening bit by bit at the story. Sure, it could be all made up, some ploy to get close to a loner living in the woods. What kept Keith believing, though, was the raw sincerity and confusion that dripped from the man’s voice. It’s as if he was experiencing the emotions himself; grief, anger, loss. They all resonated deep inside himself, and he couldn’t help but feel empathetic for the guy.
He’d been lost once too. He didn’t want to see someone spiral the way he had.
Cautiously, he moved over a rested a comforting hand on the man’s shoulder, rubbing gently. The muscles under his fingers slowly loosened, a sigh coming from the other. “I know what it’s like to feel lost like this,” Keith says with a soft voice, gently petting Kosmo when he came forward for more attention. “You don’t have to tell me everything. You can stay as long as you need; I’m sure Kosmo here likes having you around too. My name's Keith, by the way.” At the mention of his own name, the wolf-dog yips and licks at Keith’s hand. “And,” He starts, turning towards the other. “I do need a name for you.”
“Shiro,” The man says immediately, giving Keith another handsome smile. “My name is Shiro.”
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Walking into the living room with two steaming mugs of tea, Keith sits in the arm chair across from his new house guest after giving him his own cup. The other has a blanket tucked around himself, eyes lighting up at the tea and sipping it with a pleased hum. He was rather handsome, Keith observed, but he could see the undertone of exhaustion in the way he holds himself. It's not something easy to fake - He’d know from experience.
“So,” Keith starts, licking his lips nervously. “How long… Have you been out there?”
Shiro looks up, scrunching his nose cutely as he furrows his brows in thought. “I'm not… Really sure,” He says, looking back down into his mug. “All I can remember is… Just trying to keep going. Whenever I got tired, I remembered I was running from… people , and started running again. Probably a couple of days, at least. Maybe a week?”
He nods, sipping his tea. “Do you know who's chasing you? Will you be safe here, or should I call someone?” Not the cops, they're going to do jack shit, but he's got connections to people who could help him hide.
“I just know they're bad,” Shiro says quietly, shivering though not from any drafts. “They… Kept me for so long. I don't even know what month it is. Maybe the years changed? What’s the date?”
Keith looks at him with wide eyes, now realizing that this was more than some dude running from a nasty ex or even the police. He stutters out the date, watching as the other's face falls and looks back down at his cup, a humorless laugh coming from his chest.
“Almost two years I think… Wow. I- Wow,” He seemed to struggle to process this information, breath hitching. “And to answer your question; no. I've got no one - my family's gone and my friends were already nonexistent before I… Disappeared. I have a feeling that the cops would be borderline useless. I don't even really know where I am.” Keith's heart cracks at the defeated tone, and he reaches a hand out to touch the other's wrist.
“You've got me now,” He says with a small, encouraging smile. “Lucky for you, I've got some experience with hiding from bad people - I'm happy to help in any way I can.” He can see Shiros eyes watering before the other looks away and clears his throat.
“I… Really appreciate that. Thank you, Keith. I don't want to impose but… I really do need help,” Shiro admits, shifting to take a distracting sip of his tea, removing Keith's hand in the process.
Keith watches him carefully, sipping his own drink. Shiro definitely… Looks worn, physically and emotionally. The truths about the date and having to admit he was alone definitely seemed to cost him something. It reminded him of himself years ago, showing up at a stranger's door crying and begging for somewhere to hide with only the clothes on his back and a trash bag half full of his meager belongings. If he hadn’t been helped throughout the years, he's not sure if he'd even still be around.
Clearing his throat, Keith stands and offers a soft smile. “Well, it's pretty late. I can set up the couch for you, and we can talk about next steps in the morning, yeah?” Shiro looks relieved as he nods, moving to stand. “No, no, just stay there. I'll go grab more blankets. Kosmo can keep you company.” At the mention of his name, the wolf dog wakes up with a big stretch, padding over to Shiro for some scratches.
He drops his mug off in the sink and makes his way to the linen closet, digging out his last two extra blankets. He snags a pillow off of his bed because, well, he doesn't have any other pillows besides what he sleeps with, and he isn't about to make Shiro sleep with his head on a folded up blanket. When Keith makes his way back into the living room, he stops to watch as Kosmo has his giant head in Shiro's lap, soaking up the attention like a sponge. It makes his chest feel funny, but he doesn't have the capacity to even start to think about that.
They get the blankets and pillow laid out, and Shiro tucks himself in with a happy sigh as if he'd just been laid on a bed of clouds. He goes to turn off the light, then thinks better of it, looking back at the other first. “Do you want the light off?” Keith asks.
Shiro seems surprised yet relieved that he'd ben given a choice, smiling sheepishly. “Could you, uhm, leave it on? Unless you want it-”
“Shiro, it's okay. The light can stay on. I'm going to step out for a smoke then head to bed, come get me if you need anything,” Keith says softly, moving to shove his feet back into his boots and tugging on his smoking jacket before stepping out the front door.
Fishing a cigarette out of his dwindling pack, Keith lights it and looks out at the forest. The porch light reflects off of the still falling snow, and he can only see the edge of the tree line before it fades into black. The storm is likely to go well into the afternoon, dumping a few good feet before fucking off for another week or two. He idly wonders about the wolf as he peers into the dark, blowing out a thick cloud of smoke.
I hope he's okay out there , Keith thinks with a frown. Maybe he's from the wolf sanctuary? But, wouldn't they announce something like that? He’ll call in the morning, stubbing out his cig in the ashtray on his glass patio table. Oh right, the garage.
He walks around the front with the intention of just closing the garage and going back in through the interior door, but he stops as he turns the corner.
The garage hasn't been opened since he got home. Snow has piled up against the big garage door, the wind sweeping it upwards and into every crevice it could find.
Weird.