The attacks after point rain swept Obi-Wan’s face, armor, robes in fine grains of Geonosian sand—sand that could come right off with a few good wipes, always leaving the cloth dirtier than the man.
In a desert, water is a luxury. Obi-Wan ensured that every active soldier on Geonosis received enough water for hydration as well as a nightly spongebath, and he and Cody were no exceptions. But it was always their eyes on the requisition requests, their eyes on the remaining supplies, their eyes on the casualty reports whenever the medics ran out of clean gauze and resorted to soil-stained cloth.
For he and Cody, hydration and sponge baths were luxuries, too. They made a contest out of it—in using the fewest drops from their canteens to dampen the least dusty sections of their sleeves. Afterward, they sat together and took turns nursing the mud out of each other’s sweat-damp hair.
When the war is over, Cody once said, I think I’ll find the sandiest rock out there. Buy a couple of sandwraps and a good healthy dewback. Set up camp somewhere out there.
In love with the weather that much, are you?
Beats getting drenched in rain.
Because that was Kamino—a desert of saltwater dunes as blue as the sweltering sky that Obi-Wan stands under now.
Tatooine sand isn’t like the sand of Geonosis. Sponge baths leave only crusty caked-up rings around the ankles, wrists, and neck. Hosing things down clogs up equipment with thick layers of mud. Even the atmosphere—heavy and dry—peels flakes of skin from hardened, calloused knuckles.
The sandiest rock in the galaxy, here, beneath his feet, and Obi-Wan wishes there’d been an ending to the war, purely so that his Commander could have seen it.
Thank you for the vote and the fun time!! XD
Note: I'll be doing the corresponding Obikin drabbles and the drabbles for other ships after the poll concludes.
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just early voted!! I don't know anything about blue lock though so you can choose what you write!! or you can ignore this ask, I totally won't be offended lmao but your post was what encouraged me to go ahead and vote early instead of waiting until the day of, so thank you! (btw I love zhongli/childe if you're not hyperfixated on blue lock!)
LENA!!!! HELLO DEAR !!!! for context (x)
i am honestly thrilled that my post got u out early!! alas i am quite fixated on blue lock lately HOWEVER i did go digging in some old unposted wips for u - have the start (or, second chapter, sort of) of a zhongchi longfic i never quite got around to finishing! the inspo was this fic (x)
How easy it is, to fall for a mortal.
This is not new to him, but he’s managed to maintain such a careful distance from others for so very many years. From everyone, mortal or not. Until now.
And now, it seems as though the world has started to spin around Zhongli once again, to toss him headfirst into the center of it all. To leave him surrounded by those he cannot bring himself to want to escape.
He can feel the bitter sort of smile that touches his lips - oh, what pain he’s in store for. There is a reason that he’s made a point of keeping himself apart from others for so long.
“Xiansheng?” A hand waved in front of his face, and Zhongli blinks himself back to awareness, to this vibrant reality that he cannot escape. To Childe, brow raised and hand drifting back to the table, an amused smile on his lips. “Did I lose you again?” he asks with a laugh.
Zhongli hums. No, not yet. I suspect that I will be the one to lose you, after all.
“Apologies, Childe. Lost in my thoughts, as always.” The smile that touches his own lips feels genuine, brought on by the mere sight of Childe across from him. A product of their too-regular lunch dates, though he will not call them such unless Childe indicates that he’d like them to be.
At the moment, they are simply meals shared by colleagues of the same institution, or perhaps meals shared by friends, if he dares to think so boldly.
“What this time?” Childe asks easily, takes a bite of the food now sitting in front of them. When it’d arrived, Zhongli is not entirely certain, but steam drifts up to his face, so it can’t have been here long.
There’s a notable pause, though, one that Zhongli finds hard to fill - what to say? That he’s been unexpectedly tangled up in the thoughts of his own immortality? Of Childe’s mortality?
“Something to do with those friends of yours?” Childe prompts, then, and Zhongli tips his head at the tone - not quite jealousy, he thinks, but...something unusual. Curiosity, most definitely. Zhongli hums, pokes at his food for a moment.
“In a sense,” he says finally. Childe’s gaze flicks up, then back to his food. Something twists in Zhongli’s chest, his own uncertainty at what appears to be Childe’s. “I do apologize if they set you on edge, their visit was rather unexpected.”
“On edge? Oh, no,” Childe says with a laugh, a slight force to his smile, and it makes Zhongli’s brows furrow. They are not...exceptionally close - certainly not as close as Zhongli would like - but he would hope that Childe would not hide his discomfort so quickly.
“I just wasn’t aware you even had friends.”
Zhongli’s lips part, and Childe bursts into laughter, loud and raucous. In spite of himself, a smile touches Zhongli’s lips at the teasing.
“It has been quite a while since I’d last seen them,” he admits. A very long while - though Childe could not possibly know the true magnitude of years that he implies with such a statement. “But I’m glad you had the chance to meet them.”
“So you said.” A flicker of...something in Childe’s gaze when he glances up, though Zhongli can’t quite determine what it is - maybe something positive, given the way that Childe’s lip ticks up ever so slightly at the corner. “They must be very good friends, then.”
Zhongli tips his head - friends indeed, though at one point they were something more. Would it bother Childe to know that? He’s not certain, though a sort of thrill runs through his chest at the idea - a feeling he quickly dismisses. He has no true desire to provoke feelings of jealousy, in the event that knowing of his past romantic relationships with Osial and Azhdaha might do so.
Still, the reason behind such jealousy is something Zhongli would very much like to know about.
“They are indeed good friends. I’m surprised to see them, but not displeased,” he adds, and decides better of mentioning anything more than that. Rather unexpectedly, though, Childe dips his head, pokes absently at his food.
“We could’ve rescheduled, if you wanted to spend some time catching up. It’s no trouble.” Zhongli stifles a breath of amusement - very well, perhaps he’s provoked some jealousy in spite of himself. He does not entirely mind it.
“I assure you, they can wait.” They are gods, after all, and Zhongli will indulge himself in taking as much time with Childe as he can get. “They are not the only good friends with whom I wish to spend my time,” he adds, and finds himself inordinately pleased with the way Childe’s smile spreads, the way he glances to the side for a moment before coughing out a breath of laughter.
“You flatter me,” he says, tone entirely humorous now. Zhongli lets a genuine smile touch his lips, though. He’d gladly spend hours flattering Childe, if he so desired. Or perhaps just to satisfy his own desires, to see the flush of pink on his cheeks at an unexpected compliment, the subtle surprise before he brushes Zhongli’s words off as teasing.
You’re too much, sometimes, you know that Xiansheng? Words that Zhongli hears even if Childe does not say them aloud this time. He feels that he will never quite desire to be anything less, so long as Childe continues to appreciate his presence.
“I mean it,” Zhongli says easily, perhaps a bit too easily, but Childe only huffs out another breath of laughter, lifts a bite to his mouth. “I must say,” he adds, switches topics if only to avoid overwhelming Childe with any number of other things he’d like to say. “This food is quite delicious. I’m afraid I haven’t ever been to Snezhnaya, but perhaps I should make a trip there sometime.”
This is not an entirely true statement, though he can certainly admit he hasn’t visited the frosty country in Childe’s lifetime, and that will have to do for the moment. Childe perks up at his words, though, and swallows as he points a fork in Zhongli’s direction.
“That’s a crime. That’s an actual crime, the next time you’re on sabbatical, I’ll- uh-” He stops short, though, a stunned sort of panic on his face, and Zhongli hangs rather unexpectedly onto his words.
“You’ll…” he prompts, when several seconds pass without any further input from Childe. A lovely shade of pink dusts his cheeks, then, and Zhongli tips his head. Wonders what might’ve put it there, if Zhongli had something to do with it.
“Never mind,” Childe mumbles, almost to himself, and he lifts another bite. Shakes his head at Zhongli’s inquisitive stare, offers a strange sort of smile. It does little to corral Zhongli’s curiosity.
An ancient, long-slumbering part of him awakens, surges forth at the prospect of encouraging Childe to say what he’s now holding back. Admittedly, it takes Zhongli by surprise, and he blinks for a few moments before clearing his throat.
“Well, I suppose I’m due for a sabbatical anyway. My research in Liyue can only take me so far,” he adds, warming to the idea already. “It has been too long since I last took a look at other countries’ mythologies…”
To refer to them as such brings a smile to his lips, though Childe can’t possibly know the reason behind it.
For him, the gods are little more than myth, tales passed down - and watered down - over generations until they’ve all but become fantastical bedtime stories for young children. It’s laughable, the way some of his own students dismiss the prowess of Morax as inconceivable, unrealistic. Mythological, for that is what he teaches, and the only way to ensure the history is passed down, retained in some capacity, even if it is not regarded as truth.
“Snezhnaya does have a rather different range of mythology in relation to Liyue,” Childe says, almost offhand, though his gaze remains interestingly fixed on Zhongli. Or, rather, quite fixed in short intervals, between which he stares ardently at his food.
“Does it?” Zhongli prompts, earns a hum from Childe. “I wasn’t aware a professor of marine biology was also an expert on Snezhnayan mythology.” He is quite acutely aware of his own baiting, and does not mind in the slightest.
“Ah, expert might be an exaggeration,” Childe says with a laugh, now, and Zhongli hums his own amusement. “But it’s still pretty prevalent, taught in most schools alongside history.” This, Zhongli will admit, is news to him.
“Is it? What an intriguing concept.” Would that the Qixing did not readily dismiss Liyue’s history - ‘mythology’ - quite so easily.
“I assume that’s not how it’s done in Liyue?” Childe laughs, question rhetorical in nature, and Zhongli tips his head in agreement. “Well, it’s certainly an interesting place to study, if you don’t mind the cold,” Childe adds at Zhongli’s silence.
He very much does mind the cold, but the idea has latched with barbed hooks into his chest, and it clings to him as he watches Childe take a final bite of his food.
“I think I would like to know more about Snezhnaya,” he says, and means that he would like to know more about Childe. About the country he grew up in, the culture and stories that surrounded him before his departure. The reason, too, that he’d chosen to come teach in Liyue of all places.
Childe laughs, though, and Zhongli lifts his brows.
“That easy to convince you, is it?” Zhongli only hums at this, lets an amused smile touch his lips.
“Perhaps. That said…” He very well may be playing with fire, but he is thousands upon thousands of years old. Life would get rather boring if he avoided taking some risks every now and then.
“I feel I might be entirely lost without some guidance,” he says, and fixes Childe with a pointed stare. Childe, for his part, blinks in startled confusion for a moment. And then those blue eyes widen, and Childe clears his throat.
“Well, I can certainly point out some places to begin your research,” he says, mostly to his empty plate. An unexpected flush crawls across his cheeks, and it ignites a bright flame in Zhongli’s chest. He clenches a hand tightly, forces it to remain where it is. Not to reach across the table, wrap itself around Childe’s hand.
“Hm,” he starts, and waits in silence until Childe’s gaze flicks up. “That would certainly be helpful, however…” Childe watches him now, and it is rather intoxicating, the parted lips, the way he leans in, caught on Zhongli’s words. “It might be more...practical to have someone accompany me instead.” A pause, and Childe swallows. Zhongli keeps his expression very much in check as he tips his head. “Someone more familiar with Snezhnaya and its culture. And mythology, of course.”
Childe’s mouth opens wider, like he might be about to speak, then snaps shut. Zhongli watches with amused fascination as his rather telling expression closes off, turns into something composed. Amused. Fabricated, though he cannot magically rid himself of the blush that’s settled across his cheeks.
“Well, I could perhaps put you into contact with one of my colleagues-”
“Childe.” He stops, lips parted, and his eyes flick back and forth between Zhongli’s. “Would you like to accompany me?” He thinks to perhaps add a pretense there, ‘accompany me to assist with my research, to provide invaluable information on Snezhnayan mythology,’ or some such other logical reasoning.
But he does not want to. If he allows himself a moment of brutal honesty with himself, he wants Childe. Wants more than just these lunch dates that are not dates, this careful dancing around each other. Wants to know, very much, if Childe wants these things as well.
For a few rather terrifying moments, Childe’s lips open and close not unlike those fish he studies, and Zhongli waits with his heart in his throat. Remarkable, he thinks, that he’s even found himself here - falling yet again for a mortal, a person he will more than outlive.
For someone who makes his heart race, makes him daring. Makes him want to participate in the world, to step outside of his comfort zone here in Liyue and try something new. Someone who makes him want to fall.
“And how long do you intend to take me away from my own research?” Childe says finally, and Zhongli’s heart skips a beat. That is not a rejection.
“For as long as you’d like to work with me,” Zhongli says too quickly, too easily. For as long as you’d like to be with me, he thinks to himself, and wonders what Childe thinks of the idea, truly.
Does he see Zhongli as an associate, a coworker, a friend? Someone he enjoys spending time with, but only to a certain degree? Or does he see this as something more, something filled with hope and potential and-
Childe coughs out a laugh, bright and vibrant, and Zhongli itches to reach out, to brush fingers along the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. To taste that laugh on his lips, see if it’s quite as sweet as it sounds.
“Well, Xiansheng-” A nickname that Zhongli will never tire of, and it makes his chest glow with something warm and light. “It just so happens that I’ve already applied for a sabbatical of my own, to return to visit family in Snezhnaya.” He shakes his head, then, and Zhongli’s lips part in mild surprise.
For Zhongli was not the one to bring up the idea of him taking a sabbatical to visit Snezhnaya.
“Is that so?” he asks, a thread of knowing twisted into his tone, and Childe’s lip ticks up in a smirk that says he’s quite aware of his own machinations. “Well, I can hardly pass up the opportunity to travel for my research, then, if you’ll be there to act as my guide.”
Childe’s grin widens, and Zhongli gets a distinct sense that he feels he’s won. As though Zhongli would’ve required such persuasion. As though Zhongli hasn’t won in his own right.
“Then it’s settled?” he asks, and oh, Zhongli’s heart aches for the hope in his tone. “I intend to leave at the start of next term, if you plan to align your sabbatical with mine.” He takes a sip of his drink, some sparkling thing that Zhongli never acquired a taste for.
He thinks he could, if he tasted it on Childe’s lips.
“I’ll chat with the head of department about it.” He pauses, watches Childe lean back in his chair, confidence all but oozing from him - the cat that got the canary. Again, that slumbering beast stirs in Zhongli’s chest, a feeling long forgotten and slow to wake properly. He lets his gaze settle on Childe, rest there and stay for a while.
@consistent-chaos-corporation wanted post season 7 sheith showering :3 this is definitely a ‘to be continued,’ but I’ve been sitting on it too long. Thank you for voting!
The steam was just as soothing as it was disconcerting. The last of the medication dulling the edges of the pain from his fall was still clinging to his veins and making his vision swim. Keith staggered, reaching out for something to steady himself and managed only to topple over the arrays of soaps on the shelf before slamming to his knees on the tile.
Shiro was at the door before Keith could get his addled brain to call for someone. "Keith! I heard a thud, are you ok?"
His voice was muffled through the door and the hiss of the water pelting Keith's head relentlessly. He wanted to call out, to assure Shiro he was fine, but the words caught in his throat as his vision blurred.
"Sorry, I'm coming in," Shiro called and pushed the door open. A rush of cold air followed, quickly snubbed by the door clicking shut again.
The curtain pulled back and Shiro didn't even bother turning the water off before kneeling down and Keith's hair away from his face. Worried eyes the color of the ocean just before it storms roved over him, checking for any sign of injury. Keith was sure he'd never seen anything more beautiful.
He reached a wet hand up through the spray, cupping Shiro's jaw as he blinked heavily. Shiro breathed out a sigh of relief and nuzzled into the touch before reaching for the knob. Keith grabbed his hand and stopped it before he could turn the water off.
Their gazes met, Shiro's confused, worry seeping back in, and Keith's warring for fastidiousness through the haze. "I just... need a shower. Please." His voice cracked at the word but his resolved only strengthened.
Shiro knew what he was asking without either of them having to clarify. Keith watched as he stood and pulled off his already soaked shirt, letting it fall to the floor with a wet thump. He turned his head as the rest of the clothes came off; despite frantically whispered confessions in the darkness of his hospital room shortly after he'd awoken and the tear-stained kisses that followed, they'd yet to see each other in anything close to that state.
The curtain slid back into place with the metallic hiss of rings on rod and a gentle hand wrapped around his waist to lift him to his feet. Shiro's weight against his back and the arm around his hips was an anchor as they let the water fall over both of them.
He smelled the shampoo before he felt the mismatched hands scrubbing it into his scalp. Humming at the pressure, he turned unsteadily, leaning his head back to meet Shiro's eyes. The soft smile on his face made Keith's breath catch in his throat. "Thank you," he whispered.
Shiro's grip tightened, palms taking up the entirety of Keith's head with room to spare and leaned in, pressing their lips together in a soft, deep kiss that made Keith's toes curl. He pulled away and leaned Keith's head back into the water. "Close your eyes." Keith followed the gentle command and let all of his worries wash down the drain with the soap that Shiro massaged from his hair.
A different scent sweetened the steamy air as Keith opened his eyes again. Shiro ran the soapy washcloth down Keith's arms and across his chest, pausing with pink cheeks at the wild trail of dark hair below his navel. Keith pulled him closer, only just biting back a moan at the way his slick chest slid against Shiro's. "We'll worry about that part later," he murmured against Shiro's lips.
Anon wanted some more Keith Holt AU! Thank you for voting!
Matt's room had turned into the unofficial hangout zone at some point during Keith's time at the Garrison. It would have been easy for their dad to pull a few strings and let them be roommates, but Keith didn't want any unfair treatment. He felt a little bit bad for his roommate who had largely abandoned the small quarters for the library or his friends' rooms, but the thought faded swiftly, as it usually did, along with any hopes Keith had of winning that round of Super Smash Bros.
Smashing at the jump button for all he was worth, Keith groaned as Link slid down below the map and his last life faded. The game stopped, the announcement of Matt's victory drowned out by his excited whooping and the thud of his controller against the rug as he jumped up in celebration.
Keith groaned, glaring up at him when a few taps at the door interrupted the squabble before it could begin in earnest. Matt opened it, still beaming and stepped back in surprise. "Hey, dad! What's up?"
Sam stepped inside and smiled down at Keith, ruffling his hair affectionately. "I was thinking, we have a long weekend. How would you boys like to head home for a few days? I know Katie misses you like crazy."
Keith's face brightened for a moment at the prospect of spending a weekend with his sister. It fell again as he realized it would mean cancelling the weekend excursion into the desert they'd planned with Shiro. Matt chuckled and rolled his eyes fondly, reading Keith's shifting expressions like he’d said the thought aloud.
"That sounds cool, mind if we drag Shiro along?" Matt asked with a grin.
Sam turned and put his hands on his hips. "That's a great idea! Why don't you kids grab your stuff and I'll go see if he's free." He patted Matt on the back on his way out of the room.
...
Matt sat up front on the ride home, mostly chatting idly with his dad about their various experiments and research projects, but also keeping an eye in the rear view mirror at the hilarious display of awkwardness he'd orchestrated. Shiro and Keith were both sitting uncomfortably rigid in their seats, hands folded on their laps. They were talking quietly among themselves at stilted intervals, not loudly enough for Matt to make out what they were saying.
After what he'd dubbed the pool incident, both of them had been almost unbearable when they thought no one was listening. Shiro stammering out every other word and Keith hiding behind too-long bangs that were begging for a trim was infinitely amusing to Matt, though he knew the situation was rapidly reaching a boiling point that the Garrison at large might not survive.
Pidge was texting him intermittently, begging for updates about the situation and already plotting for the rest of their visit. Matt kept having to turn his phone over and choke back gurgles of laughter at his sister's schemes. It was nothing less than exactly what Shiro and Keith deserved, but he couldn't help feel a tiny stab of guilt.
It would be more than worth it when they finally got together and put everyone out of their collective misery.
@teamtakashi wanted something soft and domestic :3 sorry i’m so h*rny on main lately this is a little spicy as well. Thank you for voting!
The lighting on the Atlas was designed to simulate the sunrise, to wake her passengers and crew gently and slowly without the jarring buzz of an alarm. Keith had always risen with earliest hints of the sun on Earth and his body apparently adjusted to the patterns on the ship without his intention or consent. Waking up with his arms wrapped around Shiro and Kosmo stretched out over their twined legs in the soft, golden light emanating from the ceiling made it hard to be all that mad about it.
He always tried to let Shiro sleep in, but his resolve wavered every time he let himself look too long. He always looked too long.
He couldn't stop himself from pressing a kiss to the strip of scars lining the base of Shiro's prosthetic, and the quiet, sleep-thick murmur of approval only spurred him further up the length of Shiro's shoulder until his face was buried in Shiro's neck and he woke with a breathless chuckle.
"Good morning to you, too, I guess," Shiro hummed, pulling the thick cords of muscle in his neck to give Keith further access.
It was all the permission he needed to pull Shiro closer to his chest, run his teeth along the space-paled flesh before soothing the faint lines with a lazy lave of his tongue. Shiro let him indulge for a few moments before twisting in his grip, sending Kosmo popping out of the room with an annoyed yip. Their lips met unhurriedly in a kiss that was neither frenzied nor chaste. Long, slow licks and sluggish caresses eased them into full wakefulness.
They broke apart with contented sighs and rested their foreheads together. "How'd you sleep?" Keith whispered, trailing his nose against Shiro's.
The corners of Shiro's eyes crinkled as his cheeks rose into a smile that never failed to take Keith's breath away. "Great, whole night through." He shifted to free his trapped arm to cup Keith's jaw and run his thumb across the scar.
Keith chuckled, turning his head to press his lips into Shiro's palm. "Liar," he teased. "Kosmo woke me up like 6 times."
Shiro laughed and shook his head. "He kicked me right in the ass. Twice." They both dissolved into a puddle of giggles at Shiro's admission.
He leaned in to press a brief kiss to the side of Keith's mouth before tossing back the covers. "Come on," he wiggled his hand for Keith to take it as he jumped out of bed. "Before I get ideas about trying to make breakfast by myself."
Keith grinned, grabbing his hand and pulling him back into bed with a startled chuckle. "What I want for breakfast is right here," he declared, pushing Shiro into the sheets.
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@why-the-fuck-not wanted something happy and gay, so have some movie night snuggles... sort of :3 Thank you for voting!
A cozy night in was exactly what Keith and Shiro needed after a long week of training and coalition meetings. The couch had been transformed into a perfect movie-watching and boyfriend-snuggling palace; An unreasonable number of their fluffiest pillows littered the cushions and Shiro was already snuggled up underneath the warm, fleece blanket as Keith brought in a bowl of fresh popcorn from the kitchen.
He set it on the coffee table and pulled it closer before sitting down and cuddling up to Shiro's side, halfway in his lap. Reaching for the remote as he settled in, Keith set his feet between Shiro's splayed legs and slid them underneath his thigh.
“Oh my god, your feet are freezing!” Shiro shrieked, lunging away.
Keith held fast to the other side of the blanket and dug his toes farther up the length of Shiro's leg, sliding them up his shorts to hit bare skin. “Yeah, so you should warm them up!” He laughed as he grabbed Shiro's arm to keep him from escaping.
“Seriously, did you do a headstand and sit with them in the freezer while you made popcorn?” He groaned, settling back onto the cushions and accepting his fate.
Keith used his grip on Shiro's arm to pull himself up with bent knees and place a sloppy kiss on his cheek. Shiro laughed and let his prosthetic float to Keith's back, holding him in place so they could kiss properly. He leaned back with a smile and a shake of his head. “You're a real brat sometimes, you know that?”
The fond glint in his eyes made Keith preen with the teasing. “Yeah, but 'm your brat,” he murmured, leaning his head in close.
Shiro took the bait and pressed their lips together again, basking in the soft, slow slide as he pushed Keith down onto his back. He tilted his head away, smiling as his eyes roved over Keith's breathless face. “You sure are.”
He dipped down to capture Keith's mouth again before he could reply, running his hand through the silky hair fanned out on the cushions and tangling his fingers in it. The contented hum it drew from Keith's lips and the impossibly cold feet crossing at the ankles around his waist had Shiro forgetting all about the movie still stuck on its title screen on the TV.
@cosplay-daddy wanted something a little sad and a little sweet with lots of kisses, thank you for voting! 😘😘😘
The sun had long-since set by the time Shiro dragged himself back to the quarters he shared with Keith. It wasn’t quite late enough to be worried about waking him, but Shiro still kicked his boots off as quietly as he could manage, not wanting to bother Keith if he happened to be reading or drawing or otherwise relaxing.
Keith was smiling up at him from the couch as he stepped into their living room, sketch pad lovingly deposited onto the center of the coffee table in preparation for Shiro’s arrival. Keith’s face fell at the tired smile Shiro gave him in return. “Long day?” He asked, standing up to greet him with a hug.
Nodding curtly, the dark circles under Shiro's eyes sagged with his frown as they fixed themselves upon the scar running down Keith's cheek. He raised his hand to cup Keith's chin and trace his thumb along the angry red line.
Keith let him linger there for a long moment before turning his head to the side and placing the barest hint of kiss to Shiro's palm. "Wish you'd stop worrying about that," he murmured, stepping closer and pulling Shiro's hand down to their sides, fingers threaded.
"Keith..." It came out a breathless whisper as their eyes locked. "How could I not? I... I did that to you."
Letting his head fall onto Shiro's shoulder with a sigh, Keith took a few deep breaths before replying. "It wasn't your fault. It was Haggar." He lifted his head again and wrapped his free arm around Shiro's shoulders, pulling them together until their chests were almost touching again. "Gonna keep saying it until you believe it," he started, leaning in to kiss Shiro's cheek. "But it was worth it to get you out of there alive."
Shiro chuckled. "Well I mean, technically..." The corners of his eyes crinkled with his tired smile. It was the first one Keith had seen in days.
Keith shook his head before resting it gently against Shiro's. "You wanna argue technicalities or do you wanna kiss me, old man?" He grumbled, knocking their noses together as one side of his mouth quirked up into a smirk.
Shiro laughed again and let his eyes slide shut as their lips met.
@paladinpuppypile wanted Shiro brushing Keith’s hair :3 Thank you for voting!!
(this got a little bit spicy, my b)
Their morning routines meshed and melded until they could circle each other in the bathroom and the kitchen the same way they could on the battlefield, though with the addition of kisses to the cheek and pats to the backside. Keith's unruly bedhead was a sight to behold and never failed to bring a smile to Shiro's lips. The thick strands defied gravity no matter how peacefully Keith slept.
He dragged the comb away from the side of his head in a huff, pulling out the plastic tines that had splintered in the mess of his haste. Shiro grimaced as he finished rinsing his mouth free of toothpaste in the sink. He stilled Keith's hand as he dragged the brush through his hair next, blank-faced despite the harsh ripping sound of the strands being pulled from their roots to mat the bristles.
Keith let Shiro take the brush, despite their hurry he could never resist Shiro's hands on him in any capacity. "The meeting can start without us, you don't have to rip your hair out over it," Shiro murmured, amusement glinting in his eyes as he moved to stand behind Keith and place a kiss to his bare shoulder.
"Shoulda gotten out of bed sooner," he grumbled, no malice behind the words.
The only response Shiro gave was a quiet chuckle as he started from the bottom of the recalcitrant waves, coaxing them gently from their sleep-driven bramble.
Shiro's touch was always soft, gentle. Whether it was a hand on his shoulder, or around his waist, or running up his thigh, Shiro trailed his skin with reverence. The first time those thick fingers tangled in his hair was a revelation. Later, warm and spent and on the verge of exhaustion, the fingers combing through his sweat-soaked tangles felt like a prayer.
Keith's eyes slid shut as Shiro worked the bristles through to the top of his head. Shiro didn't stop once all the tangles were free, he worked the brush over Keith's head in an easy, slow rhythm long after it was needed. Keith gripped the counter top almost to the point of shattering the porcelain like glass.
Shiro's hips bracketing his own, Shiro's prosthetic resting against his waist and the soft, steady pull of the brush through his hair. It was too much and not enough all at once.
Feeling his distress, Shiro set the brush down pulled the silky curtain away from Keith's neck, peppering it with kisses. "Think they'd notice if we were half an hour late instead of 15 minutes?" He murmured against the rapidly heating skin.
"Doubt it," Keith's breathless reply was automatic and all the permission Shiro needed to finish taking him apart, bit by bit, right up against the vanity.
