apocalypsehowcomm | [ closed ]

Entry tags:

[ closed ]

Who: shiro + keith
When: perm log for these idiots
Where: all over
Summary: say, say o playmate from the august tdm. the butcher's camp from the september tdm. quarter pounder from the september event. keith's birthday. hermy the wormy from the december tdm. in the hive from the december event.new year, new you from the january tdm. end of january, references january event.
Warnings:
say, o say o playmate: hallucination, blood, ritualistic sacrifice, claustrophobia.
the butcher's camp: animal death, animal mutilation, both human and animal butchery, implied cannibalism, stripping ( nsfw ).
quarter pounder: blood, animal attack, consumption of human flesh, violence, gore, body horror, potential for severe injury, including puncture wounds and broken bones, potential for choking, potential for animal death.
keith's birthday: boys being stupid.
hermy the wormy: worms, decay, altered mental states/compulsion, emotional corruption, potential for violence, body mutilation, attempted murder.
in the hive: insects/swarms, bites, vomiting, body horror, death ( npcs ), mental and physical trauma
new year, new you: self-doubt, body dysmorphia trauma, cringe talk about sex safety, hook-up culture, body modification ( steroid and synthol oil use ), mention of drug use
end of january: implied animal death, self-doubt, body image issues, body dysmorphia, self-harm, body mutilation, skin burning, drug use mention ( tren steroid ), implied extreme dieting ( starvation & dehydration ), nsfw ( heavy petting and nudity ). reference to shiro's scars.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ keith please. let shiro keep some of that dwindling dignity. ghost is what any normal, sane, unmoronic person would think of, so the less they dive into the inner workings of shiro’s brain, the better off the two of them will be. he’s set to go to the grave with this but --

nudge and: ]

Wha--no! [ loincloth? How would that even -- ] Toga!

[ -- there’s way too much fabric in a bedsheet for a loincloth. unless keith planned on cutting up said sheet and -- no, no no no, shiro is not going anywhere near imagining that. it’s only then that shiro realizes that in the rush to distance himself from loincloth, he spilled the beans. ah, shit.

yes, his face is still pink. and yes, he still clings to his pumpkin. ]

You know… but a shortened one? [ hence the leg comment. listen, it made sense in his head, which they’ve already established didn’t actually make sense. ]

...So a sexy toga?

[ amazingly, both keith's tone and expression are entirely serious as he puts forth the question. whatever shiro may think, this is a very sincere quest for enlightenment. it's only the beat afterwards after he's heard the words out loud that something in keith's demeanor falters as the corners of his lips start to pull up with the ridiculousness of what was just said. ]

I mean -- [ forgive him, shiro. keith tries. really tries, but fails to keep a laugh in check despite chewing on the inside of his cheek. ] I'm sorry. I'll stop saying weird things now. Thought I was done with that.

[ shiro's probably got a whole bunch of blackmail worthy material on keith from his babblings on pain meds from honeydew to penguin commentary. it's probably best not to add to that more, right? a pinch more subdued, keith adds: ]

Not sure how I'd fold a toga anyway.

[ shiro is one breath away from banning the word sexy when referring to halloween costumes. it reminds him too much of those pop up halloween stores, with rows upon rows of cheap spandex and polyester costumes, packaged with the title sexy ‘insert mundane occupation’. shiro will be withholding the forgiveness for now, thank you very much; that failure to muffle a laugh will earn keith a scrunch of shiro’s features, edging dangerously close to a pout.

he could turn this around though. he realizes this with that sorry excuse of an apology. that’s right, shiro has a whole arsenal of things he could dig up from the past couple of weeks, more so in the beginning of keith’s recovery when he was hopped up on pain meds. shiro said one, tiny, ridiculous thing here, but keith -- he has piles upon piles of silly remarks they can revisit right here, right now.

… but shiro reconsiders with a soft sigh, the pout unfurrowing -- not to relax completely, but to come across more thoughtful than bothered. nah. shiro isn’t going to take the cheap shot at keith’s expense. he will, however, give a firm: ]

Not that you need to know, because you’re going as a ghost. [ -- to usher them away from this whole mix-up that much faster. and in the spirit of moving along, he’ll snatch up the scoop tool, shoving it down into the pumpkin to start scrapping. ]

Let’s just add all versions of toga to the list of things never to be spoken of ever again, okay?

[ keith watches that almost pout form with a self-satisfied smile. the laughter is over and done with at least, but this last bit of mirth is hard to let go of. it's a wildly inappropriate time to be putting descriptors like "cute" or "adorable" next to shiro's name, but it's hard not to think it when that grumpy sulking happens to be strangely endearing. ]

Okay.

[ see? keith is being agreeable and good. he pops the last bit of cupcake in his mouth and picks up his own set of carving tools to start cutting into the top. showing the slightest bit of mercy, he won't be cheeky and ask if they can talk about his legs then. instead, he gives shiro a tiny smile and inquires a pinch more seriously. ]

Can we talk about that day you saved me then?

[ for all he knows, this might just be equivalent to opening up pandora's box, but a lot of things happened that day that probably ought to be unpacked. ]

[ is this a better topic than sexy legged ghosts and the many methods of sheet folding? he supposes. it’s a necessary conversation too, one they likely could have -- should have -- had weeks ago, when keith was weaning off the pain meds and coherent enough to remember shiro’s nickname of choice is, in fact, shiro. on shiro’s end, he doesn’t much want to talk about it. he can recall all the bits and pieces with too much clarity; he reviews it enough on his own, mostly at night when all else is quiet and dull, and his mind can simply run until exhaustion wins out. keith though… -- shiro gets it. keith was pretty out of it. of course he’d want a recap of what happened once the blood loss grew too great and memory suffered in the wake of it.

shiro wonders if he should start with a correction. saved him. right. more accurately, when shiro failed to cover him and had to scramble to keep keith alive long enough for someone else to save him.

he pauses after the next scrap, hand still lodged inside the pumpkin, covered in goop and guts, and silently shakes off the pathetic wallowing of his thoughts. true, all of it is true, but he already knows keith would fight him on the self-flagellation, so -- ]

Sure.

[ he starts scraping again, gaze still kept down at his work. ]

Where do you want to start?

[ here, it's keith's turn to subtly shift and turn towards his pumpkin like it actually requires all of his brain cells to puzzle out. of course, he should be able to talk to shiro about anything, but certain topics are difficult to broach. that list of banned topics that shiro had been joking about may not actually be a joke in that sense. after all, it's not like they've ever revisited the topic of how shiro feels about his hair or the other ways that his time in captivity has manifested physically on his body. forget mentallly.

still. uncomfortable is too strong of a word for how keith feels right about now. lost might be better, esepecially with shiro just throwing the doors wide open without giving a single indication of what is and isn't on the table for discussion. the implication being that theoretically everything is fair game should come as a comfort, but keith isn't so sure. he goes quiet for a couple of seconds, fingers drumming lightly against the pumpkin as he considers. ]

Well.... [ and again, he lapses into an uncertain silence before deciding on an inoffensive course of action. ] ....I guess, I should start with a thanks. For getting me out of there and then afterwards.... staying with me at the clinic. It really means a lot to me. [ ... ] Well obviously it meant a lot to me, but you know... but even beyond what's obvious? Everything was that much easier to handle just because you were there. Even if I wasn't exactly the greatest company sometimes.

[ he peeks over towards shiro then briefly before turning his sheepish, somewhat pinkened face back to the pumpkin. ]

.. A lot of the time. I didn't mean to call you pet names and all that.

[ a smidgen of that wallowing has clung tight despite his best efforts and all it takes is keith’s thanks for the rest of it to come roaring back, so potent in its accompanying guilt that shiro just barely staves off a flinch. a flutter of his lashes in a too quickened repetition of blinks and a clench of his teeth that have the muscle of his jaw popping, those are the only giveaways in the moment. keith is just as engrossed in his pumpkin that shiro is though, so thankfully, shiro has time to breathe and force the easing of that clench, the tension unwinding word by word as keith keeps on talking through gratitude shiro feels undeserving of. if he’d been faster, keith never would have gotten hurt, never would have wound up in the clinic, never would have felt compelled to thank shiro, never would have --

enough.

the spiral stops but shiro still feels dizzy from it and to compensate, perhaps goes too far in trying to right himself. namely? he huffs a heh, mouth slanting on a curve that pulls hard to the right. ]

Honeydew wasn’t so bad. [ a beat. wait for it… ] Kind of sweet.

[ get it? honeydew in itself is sweet? piss-poor humor adequately dished out, the moment lapses and the curve loses its strength until he finds himself just barely maintaining a small, quiet kind of smile. the scrapping, once again, stops and he shifts to start pulling the cut guts free, dumping them into a trash bag. ]

You don’t need to thank me though. None of it was a burden. [ he knows he’s doing this wrong. he should stop fiddling with the damn pumpkin, face keith properly and talk this out without distraction. but shiro knows the truth: he’s not as brave as everyone thinks he is. if he slows down, if he stops, he won’t only have to face keith, but the full brunt of memory. he can’t escape it right before sleep, not even in his sleep where his nightmares have found new material to torture him with, but here, he can offset the reality in which he almost lost his best friend by pretending to care about this stupid jack-o-lantern.

so yes, he’s just going to keep scooping out the mess, desperately trying to keep himself from feeling too much. ]

I hated that you were hurt but I didn’t hate being there for you. [ in a way, it finally felt like he was evening the scales. shiro knows what it’s like to wake up hurting and disorientated. keith was there for him then, of course he was; it’s only fair shiro took care of him in return. not that that’s the full truth. ]

Though, truthfully? [ another scoop. another handful of pumpkin guts in the bag. he pauses then, hand now streaked orange grasping the open rim of his pumpkin. ] It was as much for your sanity as it was mine. [ a swallow and then a brittleness to his voice that he fails to fully mask. ] You really scared me out there.

[ keith stays quiet throughout shiro's response, listening carefully whlile his eyes stay focused on the pumpkin. the token gesture he makes towards relative nonchalance is a grab for a carving knife and a perfunctory start at cutting through the top, but really his thoughts are miles and miles away. of course shiro was going to say keith doesn't need to thank him -- that part may as well have been scripted. it's that last part about being scared that keith keeps mentally stumbling over.

to say that they've been through some rough times is an understatement at this point, but this is still the first time keith's heard shiro say anything about being scared. not back in that horrid stone temple, not back when the kelpies attacked. certainly not back when shiro had split up the team and made keith go looking for red on sendak's ship alone or when he'd ended up fighting a druid one on one. or zarkon for that matter. point is, keith's been in plenty of life or death situations -- thrown himmself headfirst at a couple of them as a matter of fact.

waas shiro scared all those times too?

having sawed his way halfway through the top of his pumpkin, keith steals a surreptitious glance in shiro's direction. probably not. after all, this incident with the boars is probably the most graphically close to dying he's come. instinctively, keith wants to press his hand to his ribs but represses the urge. despite shiro's tone, he almost feels as though he's being reprimanded. breath held for an extended beat, keith releases it quietly with a:]

I'm sorry. [ for scaring you. ] I don't know what happened.

[ which is partly a lie, but to say that he has any idea of what the pkot is would also be a lie. worrying at the inside of his lip, he carves through the rest of the top with a little more force than necessary. ]

I ... when my knife turned into a sword something weird happened to my body. I couldn't... it hurt. Like my body was trying to split in half? [ he shudders. ] Or like... there was something inside me. I don't know -- but it freaked me out and then I couldn't move away fast enough.

[ that’s shiro’s line: i’m sorry. it’s as before though, he knows it isn’t what keith wants to hear nor will even tolerate, so to save keith the breath of arguing him on it, he’s gone without saying it. he wonders if he should say it anyway, if not for keith than to quiet the guilt that’s continually rattling around his ribcage and driving him one step short of mad. perhaps he deserves that though; denying keith an apology is denying himself the forgiveness he knows would follow. he has no right to it. he botched that fight. keith almost died. shiro deserves to be unforgiven.

he makes a low sound and resumes cleaning out his pumpkin with the scraper. keith’s explaining -- trying to -- and shiro is brought right back to that day, forced to remember the pained, wet sounds and the look of keith’s strength draining right in front of his eyes. more than that, there are details he’s been actively ignoring all these weeks, not wanting to let suspicion get away from him. this reality is weird; nothing is off the table when these inexplicable supernatural powers are involved. the physical manifestation of keith’s pain in his eyes, in his mouth could have been linked to the fuckery going on in dogtown. even the transformation of his knife, who can say for sure?

except the insignia on keith’s knife isn’t a hallucination. shiro checked hours later, when keith was settled and stable, and shiro had the peace of mind to unpack everything from keith’s bag. a ceremonial blade, every one in the order carries one -- isn’t that what ulaz said?

why does keith have one? how does keith have one? he frowns, gaze centered on his pumpkin, still scraping, still cutting through the stringy insides. ]

Your knife triggered more than a feeling. It changed you. [ deepens that frown, skin wrinkled and knotted between his brows. ] Your face…

[ he pauses and gives a little shake of his head, filling the silence with a rougher drag of his carving utensil. ]

I thought -- because of the adrenaline and panic, I was seeing things but… [ stop stalling, just fucking say it. frustration spikes, at himself, at the situation, at keith for unintentionally being so baffling; he feels lost on what’s going on and he hates that he doesn’t have answers aside from a few details that don’t make sense anyway. he scrapes again, distracted and following repetition alone until the guts are forgotten and he’s digging into the meat of the pumpkin, thinning out the inner walls instead. ]

You had fangs. And slitted pupils. It was…

[ weird? unsettling? confusing? he abruptly pauses in his motions and exhales loudly, drowning out his own piling thoughts. ]

I don’t know what to make of it.

[ keith visibly tenses as shiro speaks, shoulders tight and grip even tighter on the handle of the carving knife. he doesn't breathe, doesn't dare moving and above all else, doesn't -- can't -- take his eyes off shiro. your face changed is an ominous enough sentence to start with, but the dread grows exponentially in the pit of his stomach and radiates outwards down his spine and up the back of his neck.

breathe. keith chastises himself. relax. except neither of those things happen so easily. ever since that goddamn incident with the security panel at the balmera, keith has been carrying this nagging thought around with him. lance had mercifully been too dense to ask further questions, but the implications of being able to interface with galra tech haven't been lost on keith himself, the only thing keeping keith's mouth shut on the matter? it's ridiculous, right? there have to be multiple explanations for why technology that's routinely species locked would suddenly and mysteriously only respond when he pressed his hand to the controls.

at the very least, a glitch would have to be a more reasonable explanation than an exnlanation involving his dna. it's the line keith's repeated to himself over and over, trying to keep one foot firmly planted in reality. but in giving voice to the alternative hypothesis during that stupid night where he drank too much to aelwyn of all fucking people, keith has to admit that the truth may just be that he doesn't like thinking about how the fuck his dad met a galra. how he came into being. why.

was his dad abducted the way shiro was? was keith some fucked up test tube creation that just never had a mother in the first place? he should have never gone down that rabbit hole of horrible questions because it's pointless to be having a fucking existential crisis over ridiculous sci-fi hypotheticals. what's more insidious, however, is the doubt planted in his head. ]

I- I've never -- [ and instantly, his mouth betrays him. whatever the paladins might think, shiroshiro would never judge him if he turned out to be related to the monsters they're fighting back home, right? the monsters that ripped off shiro's arm to turn him into a weapon? .... fuck, ] I swear I don't know anything about that. My face or my knife. I've had that knife my whole life and it's never changed into a sword like that before. [ breathe breathe breathe: ] I didn't know! I don't know. I thought I was just... normal.

[ in hindsight, dropping a by the way you grew fangs and your pupils morphed isn’t the most delicate way of breaking news to someone. he could have eased into it with some sense of care, rather than unloading, especially when his own thoughts are weighed down with frustration. entirely misplaced frustration at that. shiro’s fault here is that he didn’t think far enough ahead and pick apart the nuances to accurately predict keith’s reaction. honestly? he took it for granted. he’s anticipating confusion over the trigger and annoyance for the strangeness of this reality; basically, he’s ready for keith to go through the same emotions that shiro is currently shuffling through. idiot; that’s what he calls himself when keith simply goes off.

there’s something to be said about his reaction though. he’s defensive. part pleading even. it’s as though keith’s trying to circumvent an accusation before shiro even has the chance to make it. why would keith’s thoughts go there? how can keith know what to deny before it’s even voiced? does he actually know something more here?

the questions pile up in his head but they’re abstract and ignored, shiro’s immediate attention wrapped up in keith’s panic itself, rather than dissecting any underlying meaning. he drops his scraper there inside his pumpkin and shifts toward keith, hand coming down on his shoulder. his goopy hand. shit, sorry; shiro barely noticed at the moment though and instead goes for a squeeze, wanting to break that frantic tumble of words. ]

Woah -- hey. Slow down.

[ he doesn’t let up on the squeeze. he doubles down by giving keith a little shake as he then leans closer, voice deliberately kept light and soothing. ] It’s okay, Keith. No one is accusing you of anything here.

[ … yet? he still needs to talk to keith about the knife. the knife that keith has had his whole life and bears the emblem of their possible, alien allies. ]

[ keith barely registers the pumpkin gloop now thoughtfully smeared on his shoulder himself. the firm squeeze and gentle reassurance has made it abundantly clear that he's overreacted here and frustratingly that is probably going to warrant some kind of explanation. chewing on the inside of his lip, keith takes a deep breath but to limited effect. his shoulders stay tense under shiro's hand, though he loosens his grip on the carving knife. ]

Okay. [ it isn't okay. eyes fixed on the pumpkin, keith pulls the knife out and lays it on the garbage bag then carefully pulls off the top to expose pumpkin innards. another beat, then he tries again: ] Okay. [ that's firmer this time, more settled despite not feeling it at all. he doesn't like where this line of conversation is headed, doesn't like having to talk about just how little he knows about his own family history and where he comes from -- even to shiro. or should that be especially to shiro? keith's gaze drifts towards the galra arm before he looks away again, swallowing. ]

I just ... don't know what's wrong with me. [ then realizing how fucking unnecessarily melodramatic that sounds, keith groans, scrunching his face and runs his hand through his fringe. ] Think I'm losing my mind.

[ wouldn't be the first time, really. chasing after mysterious energy calling out to him in the desert? sure, he ended up being right about that but tell any goddamn psychiatrist about that and he'd have been committed. hell, it's happening here too, isn't it? the near constant nagging suspicion that something or someone out there is watching. the whole reason his room is a goddamn mess right now, in other words. ]

...and not the "feeling watched" kind of crazy. I mean as in.... [ he trails off, uneasy as he establishes eye contact again. ] ... if I keep talking, you promise you're not gonna treat me any different, right?

[ that this whole you're my family and i love you isn't going to change? ]

[ ah yes. keith’s paranoia. the paranoia that shiro’s done a piss poor job of helping keith with. extending an invitation to bunker down in shiro’s room when the worst of it hits is nice, albeit an unconventional solution to keith’s disdain for his own bedroom, but considering shiro’s never reissued it when keith is sober, is it any surprise that nothing has changed? the incident in dogtown came shortly after, so he supposes he deserves some leniency for being busy fulfilling keith’s basic needs and never considered scooping him up to manually transfer him to another room when keith’s gaze grew twitchy and agitated.

god, that room is a disaster. in the beginning of keith’s recovery, shiro was in and out of that room, bringing meals, bringing water, bringing company; so he’s familiar with keith’s conspiracy boards. they’re reminiscent of what keith put together in their reality, in search of the strange energy in the arizona desert. shiro doesn’t think keith is crazy. he was right then and there’s been more than enough evidence to support strange energy in this universe, even though, admittedly, some of the theories showing up on the board have shiro squinting. zark muckerberg, possible lizard man; an accusation supported by a blown up image of barbeque sauce on a shelf, a scribbled human behavior?? below.

… keith isn’t crazy, he reminds himself. and shiro’s been meaning to talk to him about his boards, his room, and the overall paranoia in greater detail, preferably when keith isn’t stuck calling him honeydew on loop. guess they’ll start with this new brand of supposed crazy first though.

he’s released keith’s shoulder by now and he uses that hand to steady his weight as he heaves himself up, scooting over to get that much closer. once plopped down, he reaches around behind keith to grasp his farther shoulder -- again, sorry for the goop -- bringing keith in for a side hug. ]

Of course. [ two words full of conviction. it’s impossible to know for certain, but right here, right now, shiro can’t imagine a scenario in which he’d see him differently. he’s his best friend. his family. and he did promise never to give up on him, so -- ]

You can tell me anything. [ he offers up an encouraging smile, still unwilling to let keith go. ] We’ll work through it together.

[ so far nothing unsurprising. shiro is a supportive presence in keith's life -- so a concern about a possibly tenuous grip on reality shouldn't necessarily drive wedges between them. it's the next step that leaves the knot in keith's stomach pulling tighter, even as he makes no real attempt to dislodge himself from the gloopy side hug. cheek gently smooshed against shiro's side, he goes quiet rather than offering up a smile. the silence stretches for an extended beat as he tries to figure out how best to explain himself, but frankly doesn't think there's a diplomatic way to voice something as bizarre as alien origins. ]

Okay. [ how many times has he said okay in the last minute? grimacing slightly, keith sighs and mentally throws up his hands. ] .... So I think I might be part Galra. [ a beat. ] Yeah, I know I'm not purple or anything and loook completely human, but hear me out, okay?

[ shoulders rounding slightly, keith keeps his eyes on the pumpkin as he speaks. ]

Back on the Balmera, Lance was trying to close the hangars at the base, but nothing was working until I touched it. And you know how their tech is all ... species locked. It just got me thinking is all.

[ huh. so they both have that going for them: the ability to access galra tech. maybe. shiro is reluctant to believe that. he doesn’t doubt that keith closing the hangars happened, no, but he has reservations about it being more than a well timed coincidence. it’s easier to accept serendipity than it is to take in stride that his best friend bears a heritage that neither of them particularly want.

he doesn’t remove his arm from keith, though his arm has begun to match the tenseness of keith’s shoulders, the fit of it less of that easy drape of before. here, his voice is kept deliberately dry. ]

A possible malfunction in the mainframe of a galra base under attack doesn’t mean you’re galra.

[ despite his stubborn efforts, the rationale doesn’t stick for him. one moment after and he’s picking that apart too, just as he needled away at everything keith said. he’s indecisive. he’s uncertain. mostly, he’s hesitant to admit that he also has a tid bit of information that would back up keith’s claim. however, the moment drags into two and he knows there’s no way around this other than meeting it head on. he did say he and keith would work it out together, right?

he exhales heavily and gives his head a little shake, biting the bullet with a reluctant: ]

… But your knife might be another story.

[ had it all his life, yeah. got it from his dad for protection, okay. every tiny bit of information he’s gleaned from keith over the months post voltron’s first forming have been sound and predictable and so far removed from anything that would give rise to suspicion. but. ]

Remember what I told you about the Blade of Marmora? [ he frowns, not even trying to catch keith’s gaze as he also stares down at keith’s pumpkin. ] Ulaz said every member has a ceremonial blade. I saw his. [ he tightens his fingers, more so for his own benefit. ] It had an insignia on it just like yours does.

[ it's at this point that all thought just comes to a screeching halt. despite feeling blank, his head is full, spinning and hurting. of all the things keith was braced to hear, ultimately hearing a point of validation wasn't it. part of him wants to laugh, but for the most part he's too taken aback to know what to do or how to react. ]

So....

[ so there it is. some confirmation that his dad was definitely in contact with the galra at some point for some fucking reason. if keith weren't already sitting down, he'd have surely dropped onto his ass at this point. leaning a little heavier into shiro's side, keith takes a deep breath trying to stave off the need to yell out of sheer frustration. ]

I know my dad kept a lot of secrets. [ understatement of the century, really. the moment keith had learned the word 'mom' at pre-k he'd seen an entirely different side of his dad. the guy that'd shared all sorts of nuggets of wisdom about the world had suddenly gone very quiet indeed. and after that, it's as though keith's third eye had been opened to all the ways his house wasn't as normal as he thought it was. no pictures of his mom, no pictures of other family members -- just some horribly confused feeling about the half completed family tree he had to draw for a first grade assignment.

but that's neither here nor there. or maybe it's everywhere. after all, it's all linked, isn't it? his dad's secrets, his missing mother, the knife, being even more of a fucking alien than he thought --

keith takes a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly to try and get his thoughts to quit spiraling. shoulders more tense than ever, keith hangs his head waiting for shiro to take that arm off his shoulders and move back. ]

I never knew what that insignia was. He didn't tell me. After he passed away, I tried to figure out if it meant anything. Couldn't find shit so I thought it was just some decorative piece, but... [ he swallows, taking another deep breath. slowly he reaches for the knife at his back, unsheathing it to frown at the glowing symbol. ] ... but I don't understand how or why he could have gotten a ceremonial knife from the Blade of Marmora. I mean -- why would they even be on Earth? It just doesn't make any sense.

[ one deep breath, then keith's expression crumples with disappointment. ]

I hate this. I keep thinking maybe it doesn't matter that I don't know anything about where I come from, but.... it just keeps mattering. The worst part is that I don't think I'll ever find out. Even just the basics of what I am.

[ keith may be waiting awhile longer, because shiro isn’t letting go just yet. the hardline of his shoulders is a stiffness shiro wants to squeeze right into relaxation; too bad it doesn’t work as simply as that. with some effort, he consciously relaxes himself, loosening the tense wrap of his arm and gentling his fingers so he can rub in small up and downs at keith’s arm. and now, this is his cue, isn’t it? this is where he’s meant to offer up one of his infamous pep-talks that he seemingly keeps at the ready in his back pocket. there is a delay, however, with the pause stretching into a few beats of silence as he tries to organize his thoughts into working order.

keith was pretty young when his father died, that could account for why he never explained anything in detail. perhaps he was waiting until keith was older? that in itself would suggest that his father did know something and the knife wasn’t a by-chance find in the desert, lost by its owner by mistake or possibly by death. here he is theorizing on points that he can’t provide answers to, other than further assumptions on what makes the most sense. hard to rationalize through something like this when it involves an alien species on earth. which makes him wonder -- did galaxy garrison know? shiro was privy to many more behind the scenes access points than most of the officers, even some of his same rank, but he was still low on the grid; way below the paygrade to truly know the kind of intel the big brass had at their disposal.

if so, if galaxy garrison knew aliens existed, perhaps even knew hostile ones existed, then this adds a whole nother sucker-punch to the pilot error fiasco.

this isn’t about you. one sharp pain below his sternum and a sourness in the back of his throat as that first dousing of bitterness floods his system… and then he forces himself back to rights. later. he’ll dwell on the misfortune of his past later. right now he has a far more important job and that comes with him steadying his hand, hugging keith right back in to encourage the way he’s tucked into his side. he tips his face down, voice taking on that more confident tilt he’s better known for. ]

When this is all over, we’re going to make contact with the Blade of Marmora. And not only as potential allies. [ he can’t see keith’s expression in its entirety, not when keith seems so reluctant to look up at him, but still, shiro hesitates to take his gaze off of him. he does though, glancing briefly to keith’s unsheathed knife. ]

If you want, we’ll show them your knife -- tell them what we know. Someone there has to know something. Maybe they had an outpost on Earth. Maybe they were protecting the Blue Lion for a time.

[ so shiro can see how it could make sense for the blades to be on earth… that does little to explain how keith came into being though. of course, this assumes that keith’s suspicions about being part galra are true. the control panel, the eyes, the fangs…

he frowns, holds it and then forces a smile to smooth out that grimace, once again trying to get a good look at keith’s face. ] The point is… not all is lost. We’re going to get to the bottom of this.

[ ulaz spoke as a collective we: our gamble on you paid off better than we could have ever imagined. shiro’s assuming it’s a closely monitored organization, with every decision needing to be backed with meticulous planning. it’s not like someone would go to earth on a whim, without the blade of marmora knowing, right? ]

[ again, keith listens in silence with his head hung and his shoulders tense. far from shiro pulling away, keith is only drawn in more securely. the knot in his stomach seems to tighten even further, knowing that shiro's reassuring him again and for the life of him keith doesn't know if he's embarrassed or grateful. he peeks up through his bangs, catching shiro's eye accidentally before looking back down with a quiet sigh.

he holds that position, still guarded and slightly folded in on himself for an extended beat before finally turning his face to rest his cheek against shiro's chest, one arm looping low to wrap around shiro's hip. ]

Thanks. [ it's one word, but it's whispered in a voice that threatens to fracture. keith clears his throat, trying again. ] Really, thanks. I know this isn't important and there are bigger things at stake here with the Blades. Part of me feels stupid for even wanting to know. [ after all, why should he care about someone who obviously never cared enough to be there for him? ] .... cuz no matter what I find out, it'll still be you that's family to me.

[ other arm wrapping loose around shiro's front this time, keith clasps his two hands together to lock shiro into a brief squeeze of a hug. ]

And I -- [ i love you? the words catch in his throat, inexplicably heavy and too true for the moment, like it'd be sharing too much of himself. there's only so much vulnerability keith can put out there before it becomes a burden -- pathetic to listen to. choking back words, keith slowly starts to loosen up the embrace. ]-- that's all that matters, right?

[ family. it’s not some grand reveal. despite it being weeks since shiro said as much himself with no echo from keith, it’s not as though it’s been hounding shiro. much. afterall, even without it explicitly said, shiro is well aware that he’s among keith’s favorite people, if not the top slot itself. favorite person might not be the same niche as found family but shiro is more than satisfied knowing that keith trusts him and feels close to him, as much as his guarded nature will allow. it’s enough. it’s been enough… up until this moment, because hearing that he’s slipped that much more under keith’s prickly exterior, that keith values their bond enough to dub him family… -- shiro is momentarily yanked free of the somber mood, feeling the hard thump thump of his heartbeat as pleasure fills his senses, leaving him warm and giddy. family. unbreakable, inseparable, loving --

ah. not quite that far.

he comes back to, feeling keith’s grip loosen. is he about to pull away? maybe, maybe not, but shiro moves without thinking beyond no please stay, free hand coming down to grasp keith’s laced fingers there at his hip. he tightens his own wrap of the arm to compensate, encouraging the tight squeeze of their bodies. ]

What matters is that you’re okay with yourself. [ calling himself stupid for being curious -- concerned? the balmera, that was a long time ago; so all this time, keith has been wrestling with this possibility? keith ‘s curiosity for ulaz’s sword makes sense now, he supposes. so no, it may not be important in the grand scheme of saving the universe, but it’s important to keith and important in settling whatever torment he’s been twisting up in his mind. ulaz was surprisingly talkative when asked direct questions, so surely the rest of the organization won't have any qualms about discussing keith’s knife if they ask.

right?

but before that, before they start down a road that for better or for worse, they can’t backtrack out of, shiro needs to nip this in the bud. ]

Even if you’re part Galra… it doesn’t change anything. Not about you and nothing between us. I know exactly who you are… [ he squeezes at keith’s hands and dips his head down, laying his cheek to the crown of his head. ] And I hope you come to figure that out too.

[ shiro will continue to be keith’s biggest fan and keep pointing out all the worthy, good things about him until keith feels more secure with himself. it doesn’t bother shiro one bit. and as universal good timing goes, shiro’s only just finished when there’s a loud, rapid knock. startling slightly but not enough to budge from the embrace, shiro looks to his door and -- ]

Ah. That must be the pizza. Lemme get that.

[ later, he’ll blame the closeness. he’s already right there and shiro is vehement and sweetened on all the good qualities about keith floating around in his head. so of course it feels natural to tip his head and bump his lips to keith’s hairline, leaving a… kiss that’s damning in the firmness of it. awareness comes a tick too late and then all he can do is pull back with a hard blink. oh. uh. is that weird? it’s probably weird. shit.

does he address it? nah. because there is another series of knocks and saved with the excuse to get moving, shiro abruptly untangles himself from keith and climbs to his feet. ]

… Be right back.

[ and acting as though nothing abnormal just happened, he heads out, head held high. ]

[ what matters is that you're okay with yourself? it's such a simple sentiment and yet keith can't fully imagine it for himself. with his biological family either dead or unknown, his ties to others, the community, even his place in the universe at large has always been a little out of focus -- like the world he sees and breathes is tilted a few degrees off from how everyone else experiences it. in some tautological sense, of course keith's okay with himself; he literally has no clue how to be anything other than himself. self sabotaging, temperamental, existentially confused -- yeah , keith's got this on lock.

but of course that's not what shiro means. it's funny in some ways. how is it that the guy whose car he stole is also the guy who relentlessly sees the best in keith, anyway? always forgiving, always understanding, always nudging keith back onto his feet. ...heh. literally carrying him when he can't get up.

smooshed tighter against shiro's chest, keith closes his eyes and smiles a little helplessly. being a paladin of voltron has armed him with a sense of purpose. it's given him a team, an objective and a place to focus all of his physical and mental energy. it's easy to feel like you have a place in the universe when the universe is counting on you for its liberation, but here and now keith's realizing just how much of that's been a distraction from how to actually be okay with himself.

arms tightening around shiro, keith takes in a deep breath and snuggles in closer. in the end, he doesn't know what fully embracing himself would look like, but for now embracing shiro who accepts and loves him is so soothing and cozy that he loses all sense of time and space.

the knocking at the door is therefore disproportionately jarring. keith blinks open his eyes, sluggish on comprehension. mercifully, shiro remembers his order of chicago style pizza which leaves keith in the perfect position to -- what? remain confused through the peck on his forehead? mouth dropping open in surprise, keith only manages another owlish blink as shiro quickly recalibrates, disentangles and gets to his feet to answer the door. ]

Shiro....

[ the name is whisper soft, in tones that lend themselves all too easily to feign selective deafness. despite having the option to repeat himself louder to make himself heard, keith falls silent again, heart suddenly thudding far too loud and fast behind his sternum. did he imagine it? was it a mistake? reaching absentmindedly up to his forehead, keith touches gingerly, like touching the site of contact might actually clarify something, but needless to say it does not. cheeks warming fast, keith lowers his hands to cover his face and takes one deep breath. it doesn't do much to quell some need to yell silently into his hands or to stop the flutterbeat of his heart, but it at least gets him to stop staring after shiro like a lost pupper.

fuck. what were the doing again?

eyes landing back on his pumpkin, keith shoots one last curious, longing look at shiro's back before patting his pockets to fish out a ten dollar bill. get it together, and say one legitimate thing to shiro instead of sitting around looking foolish. ]

I've got a ten if you need more cash?

[ because apparently talking about schrodinger's kiss isn't "legitimate." ]

[ he’s almost made it. he’s across the room. he’s to his bedroom door. he’s opening said door, one foot practically out in the hall and -- i’ve got a ten. it draws shiro’s gaze and into the next step, he throws a backward glance over his shoulder. so the unsolicited kiss is already a forgotten thing of the past. it doesn’t amount to anything, not even a mention, if cash is the first and only thing to come to keith’s mind. it’s both a relief and a disappointment, not that shiro is going to dwell on any of this either. glance brief, shiro flashes a smile nowhere near his usual shine and then waves keith off with a simple: ]

You’re the birthday boy.

[ translation: shiro foots the bill today, keith’s only requirement is to enjoy himself. with that, he steps out of the room completely and rounds out of sight. it’s a short walk down the hall and to the main door, most of which he spends pulling out his previously set aside wad of bills. the delivery boy is kind, even though shiro opened the door to a rising hand, clearly on the way for a third knock. bill and tip properly dispensed, soon shiro has the apartment locked up and an extra large pizza box in his hands, backtracking to his bedroom.

plates, utensils and napkins are a consideration, but ultimately, shiro breezes by the kitchen. they already have the garbage bags on the floor and pumpkin guts splattered around, what’s a little pizza? except this isn’t a little pizza. shiro’s stomach surges just thinking about it and by the time he turns into his room and nudges the door closed with a tap of his foot, the smile is far more excitable this time. ]

I hope you’re ready for this.

[ thick crust, generous layers of tomato sauce, pepperoni and meat, and practically oozing melted cheese: once keith experiences pizza this way, he’ll never settle for the pathetic, cardboard thin slices that are, weirdly, more popularly sought. he sets the pizza box down and untucks the corners of the lid, pausing for dramatic effect while peeking at keith. ]

You’re about to have your world rocked. In three, two, one -- [ and lift. behold. the room was already filling with the delicious scent of pizza, but it’s stronger in a second, further distracting shiro from his awkward blunder not three minutes ago and pushing him to beam wider. ] Gorgeous, isn’t it?

[ and just like that, the conversation is over and shiro is walking away. even in knowing shiro won't be going far or for long, there's still an upswelling of panic that makes sitting still impossible. keith fidgets, biting down on his lower lip to keep himself from shouting wait!. frankly, he doesn't even get why. why so dramatic? why is his heart still beating so fast over what might just be a simple misunderstanding?

taking a deep breath, he manages to relax enough to pluck up the scraper and pop the lid off his pumpkin, but it doesn't stop feeling like he's going through the motions of normalcy. ... which is a good thing in theory -- the less he gets worked up about a misunderstanding the better.

but that feeling gets exaggerated tenfold by the time shiro walks back into the room with the pizza box in hand and a broad smile on his face. of course keith is curious about this deep dish pizza that shiro's been talking up. of cours it smells delicious. but the pizza just isn't where keith is looking when he mumbles quietly. ]

Yeah Gorgeous.

[ damningly, he's looking shiro dead in the eye as he says it, heart still racing too fast to be comfortable. swallowing then, keith looks at the contents of the box to look at ... okay a truly ridiculous pie of a pizza with layers and layers of cheese and toppings piled on thick. ]

.... that's deep. [ deep? ] Thick. [ ??? ] ... how is this a pizza? [ there, much better. ]

[ … it’s normal to look at someone when you’re talking to them. even when the talking is little more than an echo of agreement. an agreement that includes the word gorgeous. shiro goes through all the steps of rationalization and yet, as keith’s gaze falls away, shiro feels himself warm in the aftermath. what -- what was that about? nothing, comes quickly and it’s just as well, because that sweet, vaguely dazed expression is gone and now keith’s onto full scrutiny.

how is this pizza? how is this pizza? sacrilege. how dare he question this culinary perfection. offended? yes, but he’s laughing, still a wide smile and dimpling cheeks. ]

It’s better than a pizza. [ a beat; again with the dramatic effect. this one he fills with leaning into keith’s space and dropping his voice, as though sharing some monumental secret. ]

It’s a deep dish pizza. [ and he can’t maintain. he starts laughing, delighted but embarrassingly sputtered as he gives keith’s shoulder a playful shove, straightening up from his lean. ]

Just try it, would ya? If you don’t like it -- which is impossible and I won’t believe you anyway… then you can nitpick it. [ in hindsight, he probably should have grabbed a knife. it’s pre-sliced but those cuts never seem to tear right, especially when so much cheese is involved. is there a clean carving knife around? ]

[ despite being told not to nitpick it before he's tried it, keith is still giving the "pizza" a skeptical look. ]

Deep dish, uh-huh. [ incredulity aside, there's a pinch of lightness that's betraying keith's growing amusement here. ] Looks more like something you'd make if you wanted pie and a pizza at the same time.

[ ... which come to thik of it, probably explains a lot about shiro's fondness for this, huh. after all, it wouldn't look too out of place alongside shiro's other kitchen mishaps. brow wrinkling as keith bites his lip to contain a bubble of laughter, he glances back up to look shiro in the eye again. ]

Except y'know. This isn't burnt.

[ teasing properly dispensed, keith finally does as suggested and tries to pull one of the slices free. it doesn't detach very well and could probably use an actual pie server. he pulls and ends up dragging several long strings of mozarella and sauce with him. admittedly, it's kind of funny, but it doesnt fully distract him from that surreal feeling lodged deep in his belly. he ought to get up and get a knife here, but instead he tears the mozarella strands with his fingers to free up his pizza slice. ]

Still pretty hot. [ is his very poignant commentary here as he licks his fingers clean. but before taking an actual bite out of his slice, he looks up again, uncertain. ]

But uh... hey, can I ask you a question?

Edited (DW censored me) 2021-12-01 23:47 (UTC)

[ a pie and pizza hybrid… well, he’s not wrong. that is basically what this is. what keith is wrong about, however, is the insinuation that shiro would burn this pizza pie if he attempted it. ]

Hey.

[ he’s laughing though, very tempted to give keith another shove and have him ripping that slice free in a mess of stringy cheese. for the record, shiro has had zero incidents in this apartment’s kitchen. practically zero. there was that teeny tiny fiasco with a sweet potato in the microwave. other than that, shiro is entirely capable of producing edible meals… on most occasions.

… good thing the cupcake is already down and gone. don’t need that damning evidence staring him in the face right now. as punishment for this very rude, very uncalled for slight against the person who has been spoiling keith rotten all day, shiro will not be sharing his -- now thoroughly wiped down -- pumpkin knife. keith can figure out how to get that goodness in him on his own.

… which in hindsight, may have been a mistake. greasy fingers, both red and cheesy, are lifted to keith’s mouth and then there’s a swipe of his tongue. shiro pauses mid slice, currently cutting through his own piece of pizza and there, he watches, for some undiscernible reason, keith lick, before he lifts his gaze to meet his.

huh? oh. ]

Yeah, of course. [ and then he’ll redirect his attention once more to his resumed cutting. ]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject