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. ]
[ he's out of arguments for this!! he settles instead for rolling his face into shiro's shoulder, stiffly, briefly, planting all his grumbling there as he settles in for the night.
forget this dumb staring contest. he's sleeping!! ]
[ it's a comfortable fit. keith is warm in his arms, and the feeling is surreal, if not a little melancholy, tinged blue whenever he opens his eyes to the sight of keith's hair rustling beneath his next exhale. the proximity doesn't surprise him at all -- if anything, there's a part of him that wonders why they haven't done this sooner.
but he squeezes in the end. keith is solid, comforting, and more real to him than any phantom limb he's given back. it's a little unfair. he didn't have the opportunity to miss this before. ]
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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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Your arm's gonna fall asleep.
Probably before you do.
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but his fingers flex a little, the muscles jumping along the arm underneath keith's head, just to check. ]
It's fine. It's been through a lot worse.
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Are you just gonna wait until I fall asleep?
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[ it's not like he was planning to watch keith sleep or anything......... . . ]
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[ nagging doesn't take precedence here: he has to have faith in shiro's judgment. after all, he came back. ]
Just remember we've got an early morning.
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best not to tell keith that. ]
You can roll me out of bed if I'm not up in time.
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forget this dumb staring contest. he's sleeping!! ]
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but he squeezes in the end. keith is solid, comforting, and more real to him than any phantom limb he's given back. it's a little unfair. he didn't have the opportunity to miss this before. ]
Sweet dreams, Keith.