[ he did just call keith sir, he supposes that means he’s outranked and devoted to following the orders of his commanding officer. wordless, he plays along and closes his eyes, face tilting up just so in a show of attention, as though awaiting his next order. one never comes. instead, hands touch his cheeks and smooth closer. an ingrained sense of duty to follow authority, even the fabricated kind, keeps him from snapping his eyes open, however, the rest of his face doesn’t harbor that same kind of restraint. his smile slips in favor of his lips going lax, mouth parting open around a silent oh and it feels – what?
natural? ]
Yeah.
[ he breathes it out and finds a fresh smile, one that widens quickly, just so he can feel it stretch under the thumbs caught at the corners of it. there’s a boundary here that they’re crossing. or is it recrossing? they’ve been toeing the line of their friendship for some weeks now by adding kisses and proximity that never quite pass the test of being purely platonic despite how much shiro’s deluded himself into believing so. if a completely sober shiro can hold keith to his chest and press a firm kiss to his temple without batting an eye though, a drunk shiro has no hope of preventing whatever this is.
all he knows is that he likes having keith close to him: at his side, in a hug, nose to nose. being together, that’s the part that feels natural and when it’s that simplistic in his head, the rest follows suit far too easily. in fact, he wants him even closer.
they said goodnight. they’re supposed to hug, aren’t they? that’s been the routine for ages now. so still with his eyes closed and face obediently tilted up into the nudge of keith’s nose, shiro blindly reaches with both hands, finding keith’s hips. palms settle there and he holds gently, giving the smallest of tugs to encourage him to… what? bend closer for a hug? crawl into his lap for a hug? either or, he just wants – needs keith that much closer. ]
no subject
natural? ]
Yeah.
[ he breathes it out and finds a fresh smile, one that widens quickly, just so he can feel it stretch under the thumbs caught at the corners of it. there’s a boundary here that they’re crossing. or is it recrossing? they’ve been toeing the line of their friendship for some weeks now by adding kisses and proximity that never quite pass the test of being purely platonic despite how much shiro’s deluded himself into believing so. if a completely sober shiro can hold keith to his chest and press a firm kiss to his temple without batting an eye though, a drunk shiro has no hope of preventing whatever this is.
all he knows is that he likes having keith close to him: at his side, in a hug, nose to nose. being together, that’s the part that feels natural and when it’s that simplistic in his head, the rest follows suit far too easily. in fact, he wants him even closer.
they said goodnight. they’re supposed to hug, aren’t they? that’s been the routine for ages now. so still with his eyes closed and face obediently tilted up into the nudge of keith’s nose, shiro blindly reaches with both hands, finding keith’s hips. palms settle there and he holds gently, giving the smallest of tugs to encourage him to… what? bend closer for a hug? crawl into his lap for a hug? either or, he just wants – needs keith that much closer. ]