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[ ??? ]

Where?

[ wait. he's thinking, thoughts flickering like wingbeats even as he leans into shiro's splaying hands, a kiss cut just short. ]

The car? . . . can you do that?

I've got four other seats in there.

[ . . . he should probably realize how exactly that sounds.

and how compromising this is, with keith still sat in his lap, and he's still bracing himself for the hug and the kiss and whatever that's going to come after, if he's not willing to say goodbye just yet.

instead, he's just blurting out whatever's in his head, and if they're all bad ideas, if keith finally tells him, stop, this isn't working, what are we even doing? then at least he has all of this warmth to remember him by. but for now, he forces his fingers open still, lifts them to cradle keith's face in his palms. he's still thinking about the boy in his dream, and maybe that's unfair, too, that he doesn't want to go because he made some promise to his imagination. ]

. . . at least until your clothes dry.

We can -- talk. [ yes, very natural, good job. as if he weren't nosing into the bare stretch of keith's throat and trying to catch his breath. ] While I make my rounds.

[ there should be warnings for this, a name for this -- how sensation keeps coming in a punch-drunk reel, all dizzy flares and static where shiro's breath slides across his skin. the hand that'd settled so gingerly on shiro's shoulder's flattened, steadied like he needs it for balance; the other's a more delicate frame against his ribs, fit to memorise the curve as he manages a blundering, breathless answer - ]

Yeah. All right.

[ it isn't that instinct's driven out thought -- shiro's company, asking him to lock himself into a company car with passengers who hardly need their rides advertised. shiro's a name more memory than anything real, a gut feeling and a bad idea.

and yet: a welling, willing shiver, his head tilting back by degrees as his fingers dig in blunt points and his thighs drag together, anchoring him in place. ]

. . . when - [ oh, silent and felt. ] when do you have to head out?

[ oh.

that's ridiculous, like it's a surprise when keith's the one who's just as greedy, putting his hands everywhere without thinking, shuddering into a slow cant, and pushing his legs against the mattress like he's completely unaware of how that must feel, with all of his weight grinding down against him.

it's probably true. ]

F-

[ it's unsteady, a hot rush of breath where his mouth's landed against keith's collar, his hand tangled in his hair, the other dropping to his nape.

he should push him off. especially when they've only got - ]

Five minutes.

[ later, with distance, he'll find it bewildering: the urgency, the adrenaline rush, murmuring like lovers when he doesn't even know shiro, not really -- couldn't pin more to his name than the crinkle of his eyes, smiling, and the way his voice roughens with a chase.

but memory's got a heartbeat anchored at his fingertips, desperate to hold it fast and echo with its every beat. hard to think of anything past the next thud, the next, and - ]

You should go.

[ as a knee digs hard against the springs; his grip tightens, neither push nor pull, and his pulse hammers in his throat, hotter still beneath the open press of a mouth. ]

Shiro.

[ reminder and warning both. ]

[ well, it doesn't feel like keith's telling him to go.

even if, in their defense, it really was just a test at first.

but it's hard not to feel like they're messing around -- like it's all in their heads because attraction shouldn't come this quickly, shouldn't feel like a sickness, trusting a stranger and wanting to protect him from every consequence.

most of all, he shouldn't be so riled up by a few clumsy kisses, by the rasp in his name, or the flutter of his pulse, or keith's legs closing astride his lap, and god. ]

You should -- probably get off, first.

[ ??? ]

Oh.

[ the tic of a breath gone to rust in his lungs. he swallows it, lifts his head against the dizzying skim of an exhale. ]

Right.

[ and -- shoving back abruptly, which half-tumbles him, sends him reeling him back onto a hand before he finds his balance. his head jerks once, but the flush doesn't shake easily. ]

There -- I'm off.

[ a helpful psa. ]

[ keith's always full of surprises -- and maybe a deceptive amount of strength is one of them.

still, it jars him for only the bare flicker of a moment more than it actually pushes him any amount of distance. he can still feel the weight of all of keith's gravity in the blinking second after, like a phantom limb when he's no longer clutching at him, holding nothing between his arms at all. the air cools with the draft blowing in through the wooden boards nailed over his window. the old room creaks in the silence, but his heart's thrumming loud inside of his skull.

there's really no recovering after all of that. ]

. . . have you picked up another client?

[ it takes a moment to remember what client means, that it's more than an excuse for shiro's kiss-reddened mouth to map a different shape.

he's staring again. his eyes jerk down to the sheets. ]

Not yet. Most of the warrants this month're deliveries.

. . . I'll see what they've got next week.

[ five minutes.

tell the boy that he can stay as long as he'd like.

have him help himself to whatever's in the fridge. apologize for the wait with the laundry, and thank him kindly for his time.

whatever you do, do not - ]

I meant what I said before . . . about giving you a ride.

I could help you make some deliveries.

[ -- invite him into an enclosed space after attempting to eat his face. ]

. . . I thought -- you had to wait at those pick-up sites.

. . . Well, yeah. To be honest with you, I don't have much in the way of clearance.

But I can at least get you past the gates, if you're needing to get somewhere.

. . . if I really need the joy, I'll find my own ride.

Most of those warrants're just . . . pointless. They're not really hiring Killjoys because they need them for the job. A kid with a tricycle could handle it.

[ . . . that's one way to break an awkward pause. ]

Then what made you decide to become an agent?

[ . . . ]

It didn't sound like it'd be like this back then.

[ . . . a little smile. ]

Yeah. I know what that feels like.

Come on.

Let's head to the car.

Hold on--can I go in these?

[ he is in a stranger's ugliest pseudopyjamas, what the fuck. ]

Did you throw my jacket in there too?

[ you decided on dad shorts, don't you pin this one on me. ]

I'm only patrolling today. We'll be staying in the car.

[ but -- he's already pushing himself off of the bed, and grabbing his jacket from a wall hook to hand it off to keith. ]

. . . but if you'd rather stay here until your clothes are dry, I'd understand.

That's not what I said.

[ an instant and he's snagging the jacket to slide it onto his own shoulders -- before considering his bare feet, his bony knees. the shorts barely peek out beneath its curving hem. he looks chicken-legged and obscene at the same time. ]

I'll go with you.

[ not that he's not still frowning when his glance flicks back. ]

- just give me a sec.

[ first, a brief darting sidetrip to retrieve something from the shower. ]

Uh.

[ uh, keith had said before. but maybe, at least at the moment, shiro sounds like he means it more.

in any case, it's not much of a view. it shouldn't be, with keith's scrawny frame and rangy muscle. he'd looked small in his shirt and shorts, but watching him walk with his jacket hanging low enough, it almost looks as if - ]

. . . sure.

[ not that keith can hear the affirmative after he's already left the room.

smooth. ]

[ it doesn't take long, anyway -- a scattering of heartbeats and he's back, hosting up at the drawstrings at his waist in disgruntled tugs. ]

How much do they care if you're late?

. . . I don't think they care at all.

Or at least, not enough to blow me up over it.

[ then why did they even stop kissing???

mind you, his head snaps up at once. ]

What do you mean, blow you up?

[ because he's only 60% sure tbh ]

. . . maybe I shouldn't joke about that.

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