inbox;

[stressors]

● "Hey, it's Shiro." ●

"Sorry you missed me. Leave me one and I'll call you right back. Thanks."

☏ call. ✉ text. ⌨ video. ☄ action.

code over at pagans

Comments

[impulsors]

Shiro.

[ too sharp, abrupt with the felt clumsiness of the wrong words rattling in his throat. his teeth dig together, thinking -- but it's not as if he's ever been good at this. ]

. . . look. Even if -- whatever this is [ memory, need, fever turned to bruising and salt on his tongue - ] turns out not to be real. You've got me.

I'll help you with anything you need.

[stressors]

[ it still feels like he's picking up a stray.

and maybe keith is, in a way. loyal to the people who show him any sort of care, and already ready to follow him, dogged and determined to a fault.

attraction shouldn't result in these signs. a few kisses and keith's warmth tumbling into his lap shouldn't produce this kind of unshakeable feeling like they know each other, like this should be the last time they'll ever lose each other. never again. ]

. . . I wouldn't ask that of you, even if there was something more to us.

And you know, that's a pretty loaded promise to make.

[impulsors]

You'd make the same one, if it was someone else.

[stressors]

[ it's not exactly true.

but there's a wry little smile as he's reaching out to grasp keith by the shoulder, his tone even, assured. ]

I'm making it to you right now.

We'll support each other out there. You'll have my back, and I'll also be with you, all the way.

[impulsors]

The RAC isn't gonna blow me up if I don't turn in a warrant on time.

[impulsors]

[ . . . ]

Most of the warrants don't even have timers.

[stressors]

It's an incendiary tracker, not a bomb that blows up if I don't clock-in on time.

[ . . . ]

[impulsors]

You could probably live without either of those.

[ drier, driest, arms jutting crossed. ]

Can we go?

[stressors]

[ arms jutting crossed

i hate you for the combination of that icon and that tag, even now ]

Wanna drive?

[impulsors]

[ BABY. . .





. . . meanwhile - ]

You're gonna let me drive.

[stressors]

At twenty-five miles per hour through residential areas.

Thirty if you're good.

[impulsors]

Sure.

[ deadpan, as he holds out a hand for the keys. ]

I'm. . . always good.

[stressors]

[ surprising absolutely nobody, he makes the fatal mistake of actually giving keith the keys at this point. ]

. . . what's the look for, then?

[impulsors]

You know the roads're wide enough to take at forty-five.

[ even as his hand locks tight around the keys and he turns for the door. it's too late now, shiro's never getting these back. ]

[stressors]

Hey. Don't put me in the position of having to pull our vehicle over.

[impulsors]

You're already late.

[ severely!! but shiro's look of alarm earns -- something. a little twitch at the corners of his mouth, fleeting but transparent. ]

Just shut your eyes or something.

[stressors]

[ well, keith doesn't know where he's parked.

so he's stepping up to lead the way out into the rain. he's smiling. ]

Wow. Already a natural.

[impulsors]

[ augh, drizzling still. he glowers briefly at the sky before his gaze swipes back. ]

Which way?

[ let him run for it. save the mullet before it frizzes. ]

[stressors]

[ are they going to do that thing where the date holds his jacket over his significant other's head in an effort to keep them dry.

because you bet your sweet ass they are. ]

Follow me.

[impulsors]

[ ????????????????????????????????????? ]

[impulsors]

[ they're not dating, you unbelievable camel. they aren't even kissing.















anyway. it's like a sequence unlocking: a click, an answer. oh.

he follows, keeps the jacket hooked over his head as another hand fumbles to unlock the old rustbucket -- hits the switch to open the passenger side before he ducks inside. at once, a hand comes up, scrubbing the wet out of his hair, mouth pinched against a host of words without shape. silence, silence. ]

[stressors]

[ he goes sliding into the passenger's seat with little fuss.

at least the rain starts coming down in torrents once they're safely in the car. ]

The forecast says we've got a few days of this. Hope you've got a hood.

[impulsors]

[ he starts the car in a combusting rattle -- his brows flick together, and he revs the engine once just to hear the sound cut through the dull pounding rain. ]

Or maybe I just won't go back out.

[ pulling out of parking. . . slowly. . . ]

[stressors]

That's not a bad idea.

At least until the mobs clear out some more.

[impulsors]

You really think they'll clear out on their own?