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

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[impulsors]

I can handle you, Shiro. We'll be fine.

[stressors]

[ . . . ]

You can, huh.

[impulsors]

[ it'd been an old echo, unthinking -- but he's blinking back now in the same old way, bewildered and disgruntled by doubt. ]

What?

[stressors]

[ it isn't that keith says it with enough conviction to convince him.

after all, it's hard to shake the feeling that he's​ believed in him from the very start. i can handle you, and maybe they're the right words to say at the time, something as natural as the way he's reaching out to ruffle keith's mussed hair. ]

Nothing really.

I guess that means I'm counting on you.

[impulsors]

[ ugh. he ducks his head beneath it, brows wrung together for a moment before his grip closes around shiro's wrist. ]

You sound like you're counting on something to go wrong.

[stressors]

I'm not.

[ a touch defensively, perhaps. but he's forcing his hand not to tense -- even if it means it's hanging limp in keith's hard grip. ]

It's a precaution.

Everyone's been jittery and the Company's gone so far as to issue orders to kill anyone who's acting out of line.

[impulsors]

What?

[ yeah, that's definitely not going to get him to let go. ]

Anyone outside of the Company? Or anyone -- in it?

[stressors]

. . . They've taken a certain violent response to the mobs. No mercy, and no opportunity for interrogation.

And disciplinary action for those within ranks is -- par for the course at this point.

[impulsors]

[ it's a moment to bite his tongue, to hold his peace, to let go.

but he's never been good at any of those. his grip flexes as he turns, tugs shiro over to his shoes -- less as if he needs the lead and more as if clinging, somehow, will tattoo the warm drumming of shiro's pulse into his fingers. ]

Come on.

[ rough, abrupt. let's go, he means, weighed with the consciousness of what it might mean to delay. his head's still turned to the door when he says - ]

You can't keep working for them.

[stressors]

[ he follows, in the end.

he doesn't tug, or rush, or hesitate; his fingertips skim the inside of keith's wrist, and never dig in. it's​ the same feeling as before, and unquestionable for something so vague.

it feels good to have keith right here beside him. ]

It isn't exactly the easiest job to quit.

[impulsors]

[ a visceral, physical pause --

but he lets go in the end -- has to, if shiro's going to get his boots on. he settles back against the wall, arms crossed, dark-browed and slouching. ]

Are you even trying to?

[stressors]

[ there's a poignant sort of pause..

but it passes quickly -- he straps on his boots and rises to a stand. ]

Maybe I'm not trying hard enough.

[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?