[ no, not really -- and if he carries any snapshot flash out of this daze, let it be this: shiro's fingers in ghostly lines, his summer-real warmth. the way he leans into the touch like he's been starving, like he still doesn't know any better. ]
. . . I'm not waiting, next time.
[ that it isn't the uncertainty that gets to him, the odds of loss, but the distance: planets and cosmic dust littering the endless stretch between them. ]
[ for a moment, he thinks about what it'd be like to wake up. in an ideal world, it'd be to see that they're both together, and they'd -- what? be back at the garrison? not saving the universe? they'd be on the roof just past sundown, and keith would take his hand to stand up.
it feels like a waste to sleep, to let a reunion end on such a note, with keith staring at him, eyes dark with the vastness of space in the hazy blue shadows of the cabin. ]
. . . I'll take that as a threat, then.
[ but he smiles because he believes it, feeling his heartbeat pick up with adrenaline, with something like a police chase down a narrow alleyway.
and that's enough to press his fingers along the nape of keith's neck, reeling him in for a much awaited hug. ]
[ but he's mumbling it after a heartbeat, two, his mouth smudging off of shiro's shoulder, helplessly curled. i'm not waiting -- but he's a liar already: it feels as if he's been waiting for this. ]
and sure, they're not cuddling! but they're still sharing a pretty close space, and he's laughing, pulling the blanket off to wrap it around keith's shoulders. ]
. . . right. You don't have to be considerate to sleep, Shiro.
[ but it's softer-said, the kind of voice to be lost under nostalgia and a long night, and his fingers clinging, just a little, to the folds of his shirt collar. ]
[ it's quiet. but then, they don't need any noise between them to stay comfortable.
maybe this is enough -- the shared space between them, and the conscious thought that they can reach out and find each other on the other end of their fingertips. ]
and maybe the moment's all wrong for it, now. but he's still leaning down to press their foreheads together, to watch as keith's frown flickers from the pressure. ]
[ in answer: a heartbeat's doubtful silence, and another, another. his brows twitch; his frown scrunches deeper before curiosity gives way to fatalistic certainty and his eyes slit open. ]
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I don't see your name on it anywhere.
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[ logic'd, motherfucker. ]
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Huh, this is some way to treat a guest. Are you always this inhospitable?
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Guess you're the only one who's dumb enough to keep coming back.
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well, he can't really help it. he reaches out to ruffle keith's hair. ]
Please. I'm just here to take up space on your floor.
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[ cross and light on the same breath as he ducks his head a little. ]
Come on, give me a break.
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his breathy laugh, a light mood, and his palm curling warm against keith's cheek. ]
I'll always find my way back, alright?
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. . . I'm not waiting, next time.
[ that it isn't the uncertainty that gets to him, the odds of loss, but the distance: planets and cosmic dust littering the endless stretch between them. ]
If you don't come back, I'm coming to find you.
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it feels like a waste to sleep, to let a reunion end on such a note, with keith staring at him, eyes dark with the vastness of space in the hazy blue shadows of the cabin. ]
. . . I'll take that as a threat, then.
[ but he smiles because he believes it, feeling his heartbeat pick up with adrenaline, with something like a police chase down a narrow alleyway.
and that's enough to press his fingers along the nape of keith's neck, reeling him in for a much awaited hug. ]
You drive a hard bargain.
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[ but he's mumbling it after a heartbeat, two, his mouth smudging off of shiro's shoulder, helplessly curled. i'm not waiting -- but he's a liar already: it feels as if he's been waiting for this. ]
Hard would be getting you to stay off the floor.
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it's an easy position to keep -- to lean against the wall, and take keith along with him, wrapping the flimsy cotton blanket around them both. ]
Well, the company I get up here's pretty good incentive.
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[ and there goes the smile, evaporated into reflexive disgruntlement even as he goes with the pull. ]
The bed's not that big.
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[ even if the moment's gone, it's pretty hard to flex his fingers open, to let his hold fall away and to give keith the room to pull away. ]
There's more space for me down there.
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[ snagging his collar, bossy, to tug him away from the edge.
they're not cuddling, though, there are lines. ]
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and sure, they're not cuddling! but they're still sharing a pretty close space, and he's laughing, pulling the blanket off to wrap it around keith's shoulders. ]
I'm trying to be considerate here.
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[ but it's softer-said, the kind of voice to be lost under nostalgia and a long night, and his fingers clinging, just a little, to the folds of his shirt collar. ]
You just have to close your eyes.
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maybe this is enough -- the shared space between them, and the conscious thought that they can reach out and find each other on the other end of their fingertips. ]
You first.
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nor from shifting, scrunching his eyes shut.
there goes that moment. ]
C'mon.
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it's a cute reaction. that's all.
and maybe the moment's all wrong for it, now. but he's still leaning down to press their foreheads together, to watch as keith's frown flickers from the pressure. ]
I'm closing them.
[ he's not. ]
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What?
[ stop staring, you fucking weirdo. ]
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[ and he's still got his arms draping somewhere upon keith's person, and not exactly letting go. ]
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