Keith took a seat beside Lance, smiling softly at him while pulling his hair back into a loose ponytail. A silly strand managed to slip the confines of the elastic and fell against his cheek, but he ignored it in favor of loosening Lance’s blanket on one side and wrapping it around himself, snuggling into Lance’s side.
“Did you have winters where you lived?” He asked softly, blinking up at Lance. “In the shack, we usually tried so desperately to keep cool there was no way we could... be this close.”
A summary of Shiro’s life after being discarded by Zarkon, and rescued by Keith, and the phone call that almost broke that wall down.
Also can be titled: I Had a MorMor Fanfic Drabble That Worked Really Well as Sheith So I Fixed It
(Modern!AU where Shiro was in an abusive relationship with Zarkon? Why not? Also Keith might be perceived as OOC but he’s really just an emotional smol)
Word count: 1,368
Shiro liked to think of his life in simple terms. He had a rough start, a rough middle, and more than likely will have a rough end, because someone as fucked up as Shiro generally didn’t die of old age or a heart attack from one too many hamburgers. It was more simplistic that way, and kept out many of the details of Shiro’s life that he would rather not dredge up.
Keith got those moments out of him without even trying.
It was odd, just how big of an effect the small man had on Shiro. He could wake up every single morning and see Zarkon when he opened his eyes, but the identical pair of eyes staring back at him did not belong to him. They were Keith’s, much more endearing and heartfelt and Shiro loved them all the same. Keith did his best to fill the hole that Zarkon left behind, and Shiro loved him for it.
Some days were better than others. Most of the time Shiro would be able to catch himself before groaning Zarkon’s name in bed, and he almost always remembered the extra cube of sugar because Keith liked things just a bit sweeter than Zarkon. He remembered that his first stop of the day wasn’t to go pick up the dry cleaning, rather, to the café Keith frequented to pick up the order he had memorized just because he knew it would bring a smile to the man’s face as he worked.
These were the good days.
But there were also the bad ones, the ugly days where Shiro believed he had caught on to an imaginary game of Zarkon’s and lashed out at Keith, always being so accusatory:
“How could you?!”
“I bloody trusted you!”
“You prick, you’re just like the rest of them, aren’t you?”
“I’ll kill you! I’ll rip your heart out and feed it to the strays!”
It would proceed until Shiro screamed his lungs raw and he felt blood trickle down the back of his throat. He kept at it until he could no longer feel himself inhabit his own skin, and instead of stopping he’d dig his nails into his hands and punch the wall until the pain served as a strong enough reminder that he was there.
Keith was still always so patient.
It wasn’t to say that he took the abuse from Shiro as if it were nothing – that was hardly the case. He often sat there and listened to Shiro only to start sobbing, burying his face in his hands and wishing he had never offered the man a place to stay.
It was hard not to take these sorts of things personally.
It was hard for Keith not to blame himself when Shiro locked himself in their room with nothing but a bottle of whiskey for company. Keith couldn’t always keep his head held high when Shiro broke down.
And while it was emotionally devastating for Keith, he knew he was the only one Shiro had. He knew he shouldn’t feel obligated, but what else was he going to do? Send Shiro away, where he’d either die or be jailed?
Sometimes, Keith hated himself for his weak spot.
It was one of those days that Shiro was feeling particularly off. Even he couldn’t name the distinct reason. Perhaps it was a thought. Maybe it was because he got a glimpse of himself in the mirror as he got out of the shower this morning.
He wasn’t angry. Not today. Today, he just felt defeated.
He had curled up on the edge of the couch, resting uncomfortably on the arm while watching the blank TV screen for the better part of two hours. Keith sat across from him, with his laptop, typing away without a care in the world, it seemed. Honestly, Keith thought Shiro had fallen asleep. He draped a blanket over the man and he didn’t even flinch.
When Shiro’s phone, which currently found its home on the coffee table across from Shiro, began to buzz, neither man paid any mind. But it kept going, and the sound of the vibrations running through the glass of the table was starting to get a bit annoying so Shiro reached a hand out from under the blanket and grabbed the devilish device.
Keith frowned, and part of him wished he had just silenced the phone so Shiro could continue to sleep.
Shir sat up with a grumbled “Hello?” and ran a hand through his hair, only for it to fall to his side at the voice on the other end of the phone. His entire posture froze, and Keith looked at Shiro quizzically.
“Hey, is everything okay?”
Shiro shot a glare over to Keith but otherwise paid the other man no mind, shoving the blanket off of him and standing up.
“What do you want?”
Shiro’s words were enough for Keith to catch on. In the time it took for Shiro to cross over to the window, Keith felt his heart leap into his throat, and then felt heavy gravity pull it back down with such force Keith had to choke back a sob.
What could he possibly want from Shiro now?
Keith could see all the work he had done unravel every time Shiro moved. He felt it leave Shiro’s mouth as he spoke to Zarkon. He saw every happy memory the two had shared be buried by Shro’s feet as he paced worriedly around the room.
In the end, Shiro would always belong to Zarkon. Keith’s brother more than knew that, he cherished it and used the fact to play with Shiro as he damn well pleased. Keith wouldn’t be able to reach Shiro now. He could stand behind the man and shout just as Shiro often did to him, but he would never hear it.
Shiro would rather blindly follow a man who didn’t care whether he lived or died.
Hesitantly, Keith reached out and grabbed the blanket Shiro had been curling up with, and wrapped it around himself. He pushed his laptop out of the way, as it would do him no good right now. He tried to tune out Shiro. He tried to stop shaking and tried to keep the sobs threatening to wrack his body at bay. They wouldn’t do him any good.
He grabbed one of the decorative pillows he knocked to the floor and hugged it as if it were his lifeline, then moved so he could watch Shiro move about.
“So, what do you need me to do?” Shiro was clearly on edge. His entire body was tense and if he kept it up he was certain he would snap like a rubber band and fall to the ground. The hand that wasn’t holding his mobile clenched into a fist, and beat against his leg with all the force he could muster. He’d have a bruise there later, but that didn’t matter now.
What did matter was what he was going to say next. Shiro feared for his life. More importantly, he feared for Keith’s, the smaller, recluse of a man who put up with Shiro on both the good and the bad days and had a beautiful laugh and a pet cat and a smile that never failed to echo off of Shiro’s own face.
He loved Keith. Not just because he was related to Zarkon. Because he was Keith Kogane, the man who saved Shiro without a second thought.
“You know what? Can’t do that. Find someone else to play with this time around.”
The words were out of Shiros mouth before he could stop them. In a rush, Shiro hung up the call and shoved the device away from him. It hit the wall, and clattered to the ground. Both Shiro and Keith stared at thing as if it were the embodiment of Lucifer himself.
Slowly, those terrified gazes found their match, and both Shiro and Keith couldn’t help but smile a little.
Good days, bad days, it didn’t matter. Keith had someone’s warm arms to fall asleep in each night, and Shiro found a new reason to live.
@criimsoncastle It was a long trek, and Keith's knees continued to wobble and threaten to buckle under their burden. The sun decided to be particularly brutal in its assault on the small boy, but Keith's goal was far more important. Shiro was just barely managing to stay on Keith's back, and Keith was slightly certain the only reason he was still there was because their sweat managed to create some sort of adhesive. His cabin was in sight, now, though, so just a little further... -- Getting Shiro onto his bed was perhaps the most heart-wrenching thing Keith has had to do. He couldn't imagine the pain Shiro was in when he rolled the other around and off his back, but it had to be major. He wanted nothing than to shower and flop into the bed right next to Shiro, but he had more important things to focus on. He did pull his soaked shirt off and use it in attempt to mop his hair up some, but sighed and just pulled the wavy mess into a ponytail instead. He grabbed his first aid kit as well as a sponge and bucket, and sat down beside Shiro, starting by wiping down his face and putting a cold cloth behind his neck. "Hey, sorry but, I'm gonna have to pull your clothes off, okay? I've got to clean this up before it gets infected."
@corruptedkerberostechnician "Kogane, you're up!" The stage manager beckons Keith to the clanky metal steps leading to a bright, stark and shiny stage, perhaps the only place Keith is comfortable. A rare breed, being an idol completely independent from any group, Keith's first American tour was a complete disaster. His performances were spectacular and every move of his had been flawless, but the media had been giving Keith hit after hit with rumors every time he stepped out of the tour bus. Right now, what he needed was a break. But breaks didn't happen when you were a traveling idol, so Keith had to take every measure to blend in (and besides, he looked damn good in Hollister.) He found his way to a coffee shop, not uncrowded, but not to hectic either, and curled up on one of the sofas with a cup of tea. It was a quiet, sweet atmosphere, compared to the hustle and bustle of Keith's everyday life. More importantly was the musician, sitting on a barstool and happily strumming away at a guitar. There was no choreography, no outrageous vocals, and he might not understand all the words, but Keith found himself entranced by the way the man just... Was. There was a short break while thev musician went to the counter to get a drink, and something struck Keith to be brave. He stood and removed his shades, making his appearance much more apparent as he went over and approached the other. "Hello," he greeted, voice thick with a heavy accent, "I just wanted to , your voice is the most beautiful I've ever heard."
Okay but I just need Keith being supportive to his trans* Paladins.
Like Lance struggling because it happened to be the one day he didn’t have his binder so he’s been struggling with bandages this whole time and Keith sits there and makes him a proper binder out of breathable spacey fabric and reminds him to loosen it after a long day of training
Keith giving reassurance to Pidge when they stare at themselves in the mirror for too long that it doesn’t matter how they present, they are amazing
Keith asking Shiro to teach him the best way to line his eyes because he notices Shiro’s sometimes uncomfortable being the only one besides Allura who wears makeup
Keith low-key always making sure to use the Paladins’ correct pronouns around new species so they get the hint and don’t misgender anyone
Keith having his own dysphoria but that’s okay because his teammates are much more comfortable in their own skin when he’s around
I just love when Keith is more than the angsty sidekick of the group because he’s actually there for and loves each of his teammates, even if he has an odd way of showing it.
