whatsacactus | (no subject)

[He makes a soft noise of contentment, and there is an effort while he visibly attempts to relax. His right shoulder is a mess, the muscle bunched up and knotted from the weight of the prosthetic, there's obvious obstruction to the range of movement there. When Keith hits a particularly tender spot, he outright groans, sucking in a breath as he slips his arm around Keith's hips and pulls him in close to brace against him.]

That feels incredible.

[His hands stutter at the noise, eyes wide at being pulled in close. That. That sure was a noise. It's not something he's heard outside a bedroom, or for anything as simple as a shoulder rub.

He gets his breath and lets his hands work again.]

Yeah? I can keep doing it, if you want.

Please.

[Just don't stop touching him.]

Make sure it's not aggravating your injuries, though.

Yep.

[He's less focused on the words and more on what he's being allowed to do now. The water's still hitting his back hot easing his own muscles while he shields it from Shiro's face.]

..I like doing this. [He never thought much before about things he likes. Things he can ask for or be allowed to have. But voicing that he likes something at all is a bit strange.]

[That's what draws him back. Shiro's never had a reaction this strong to something so simple, and he realizes-- there was none of this, in Black. No sense of touch, or taste, or sound, everything was just... colours and impressions, a vacuum, a void. All he had were memories, and if it weren't for her presence there he thinks he would have gone insane.

He's utterly lost, subsumed by the particular way Keith's damp hands slide across his skin, absorbed in the sensation but when he speaks, Shiro jolts a little, drawing a deep breath.]

Yeah?

[His voice is strangled.]

[Oh no.]

Yeah. I-i do.

[But he carefully stops, kneeling so he's eyelevel with Shiro, the water just hitting the back of his head. That voice has him worried; maybe he hit a raw nerve, in more ways than one.]

You wanna finish in here and dry off?

[It takes a monumental amount of effort not to say, don't stop. Instead: he exhales unevenly, and then leans in almost as a matter of impulse to kiss Keith. This one's less gentle than the previous ones, there's an undercurrent of need and obvious desire. Shiro's hand is in his hair, tangled up in it, holding him.]

[Oh. He was worried from the way Shiro's voice sounded, but maybe he shouldn't. Maybe he should just admit he's a lot lost on most of these sorts of things. The heat is starting to irritate the burn on his face and he isn't sure he trusts his knees on this slick floor. But Shiro's holding him, kissing him like he's the only meal he's had in ages.

Keith leans into it, carefully cupping Shiro's cheeks and keeping him close. After a minute, he readjusts, moving to straddle his lap to be closer.]

[But they really should get out of the shower. He's enjoyed this, but he also doesn't want to overdo it, and turning into a prune isn't on his agenda for the evening. So when Keith sits down across his thighs, Shiro just wraps his arm around him and nuzzles at his ear.]

Just hold onto me.

[He's not at his best, but this body is strong. He stands without much effort, though favouring his right leg becomes more obvious than before, and he just straight-up carries him out.

The shower shuts off when it detects the lack of a physical presence inside it, and the fans work to clear the steam from the room. Shiro sets Keith down on the countertop and reaches for a towel so he can dry his dark hair first.]

What?

[That's out of nowhere. But then they're moving, and Keith gets his legs around Shiro and holds on while Shiro walks them out of the shower. Is this how Pidge feels when she gets to climb over someone?

He ducks his head down so Shiro can get to drying his hair, taking slow breaths to try and calm himself down from that. It's almost embarrassing how easy he is to get going, touch starved and desperate.]

..Thanks, Shiro.

[Shiro towels him off rather more playfully than he'd washed his hair - that had been an act of quiet intensity and care, this is basically just an endeavour to get them back into bed in a shorter time frame.

Their clothing is missing, taken away by the bots for cleaning (they're a little overzealous in that regard) and so Shiro just shrugs, holds out a hand for Keith once they're both some semblance of dry.]

Back to bed?

Back to bed. [He agrees, smiling and takes his hand. He tries not to pull too much as he hops off the counter.

The bed's since been remade with fresh sheets (those bots probably hadn't seen anyone here in, guessing, about ten thousand years) and a part of him sort of hates messing that up so soon. But it hits him in waves as they walk that he's tired. His body is still recovering from the battles, the general exhaustion of teleporting with Black for the first time, the wormhole here.

Shadow looks up from her spot on the floor with a questioning noise and watches. Keith sits on the edge, tucking one foot under him and pulls Shiro close.]

[He lets himself be lead along, and when Keith settles on the edge of the bed he's content to let himself be pulled there as well.

He brushes Keith's hair back from his forehead gently, tucking it behind his ear.]

Mm?

[Keith gently rests his head against Shiro's stomach while he thinks.]

...This is... nice. I'm not really used to this.

It's been a while for me too.

[It's a careful way of normalizing the lack of familiarity instead of drawing attention to what Keith seems to regard as an obvious deficiency.]

[He thumbs against Shiro's skin, just meaningless symbols.]

...I'll do my best.

[His best to protect Shiro. To make sure nothing happens to him again. To make him happy, like this. There are a lot of thoughts behind the four words he wishes he could impart without... actually saying them. The paladin brain bonding thing could probably work, but they don't have it here.]

I know.

[He stoops, and kisses the crown of Keith's hair.]

You don't have to tell me that, Keith. You always have.

[He lets his fingers drag along Shiro's back when he stoops down and smiles a little.]

I know. I just wanted to say it.

All right.

[He's not going to argue with that logic. Sometimes, you have to say things just because. He supposes that given how hard it is for Keith to articulate the things that really matter to him, this is kind of a big deal.

Still.

He pulls back slightly and, with one eyebrow raised:]

You gonna let me on the bed?

[His smile turns a little sly.]

Did I?

[But he will. He scoots over, making plenty of room for him and shifting some pillows around again.]

Come to think of it, I can't remember a time before the abyss I had free time like this.

Me neither.

[He sort of just sprawls facedown, his left arm reaching for some point of contact with Keith. He doesn't care what he touches.]

Saving the universe is a full-time job. Who knew, right?

[Shiro gets his thigh, and Keith lets the hand rest there, content with the contact. He reaches to pet through Shiro's still-damp hair.]

Not us. Just a couple of guys who wanted to fly in space.

Go big or go home, right?

[He huffs a quiet laugh, but when Keith starts petting at his hair he shifts a little, leaning into it with his face pressed down against the pillow.]

Don't know how to do it any other way.

[The way his fights back at the Garrison tended to blow up should be a testament to that. He wonders how much detail Shiro had been given to his incidents back then.]

Mm.

[Neither of them do. Shiro just... did it differently. Different lives. He never had to deal with pain and loneliness like Keith did until he was much older. It didn't shape him. What happened on the Galra prison ship was different. He could rationalize that, as much as it was so outside his scope of experience. He adapted. Survived. Not just the fights, not just the torture, but being alone. That was maybe the hardest part. The other aliens were afraid of him, none of them ever got close to him willingly. And the Galra treated him less like a person and more like a thing, a beast of burden they happened to find entertaining. It was dehumanizing.

But Keith had grown up that way. Different without ever knowing why. He knows full-well that Keith would insist that Shiro's experience was worse, but it wasn't. His experiences hurt like hell, but they didn't change the course or core of who he was. Keith's did. Maybe he would have grown up to be a sweet, gentle kid. Maybe he would have followed in his father's footsteps to become a firefighter. Maybe he'd still be home, a billion miles away from this place, and have suffered none of this.

Shiro's hand tightens, just a little, against Keith's thigh.]

It's not half bad. Having time to ourselves.