[ there's not much he can say to that, feeling a bit out of place in keith's cluttered, empty house, and comforting him with company only. kerberos is a recent thing, but a distant memory in this little sliver of time shared between them. he doesn't remember the details past the long flight it would've been, the return that took longer than any of them ever expected.
but there's a cracked television screen somewhere in old memory that flickers with blue and green static, and a reporter's bland voice mechanically rehashing the same old news. pilot error, the headlines say. and if they look at all of the cut-outs strewn along the floor, if they read the worn paper and along their ripped edges and bleeding ink, they'd both remember that he's still lost in space. ]
Must've been some nightmare. [ but he's smiling at least, his tone warm and fond and hushed in the nighttime. his arm is solid, both of them made of flesh and blood and his fingers are tangible where he's reaching forward to brush back keith's hair.
ruffling and familiar. just like how they both remember. ] You should go back to sleep. I'll be here.
no subject
but there's a cracked television screen somewhere in old memory that flickers with blue and green static, and a reporter's bland voice mechanically rehashing the same old news. pilot error, the headlines say. and if they look at all of the cut-outs strewn along the floor, if they read the worn paper and along their ripped edges and bleeding ink, they'd both remember that he's still lost in space. ]
Must've been some nightmare. [ but he's smiling at least, his tone warm and fond and hushed in the nighttime. his arm is solid, both of them made of flesh and blood and his fingers are tangible where he's reaching forward to brush back keith's hair.
ruffling and familiar. just like how they both remember. ] You should go back to sleep. I'll be here.