your swords clashed together, occasionally pushing each other back and the two of you continued to dance around the training room. your breathing was heavy as you and keith have been practicing together for almost an hour straight now. his breathing was lighter than yours and he was lighter on his feet and he knew it; hence the reason you continued to push yourself harder. earlier, you had approached keith and asked him to help you train. and he was doing just that, and he wasn’t going easy on you.
you continued circling each other until he pounced forward once again; you raised your sword to block against him but you were too slow. your sword swung out of your hand and hit the ground behind you. you turned to retrieve your sword but that was a mistake as keith advanced once again, this time pushing you to the ground and he grabbed your wrist before pinning it to your back. completely out of breath, he sat on top of you for a second keeping you pinned.
“okay keith i get it, let go!”
frustrated, he spits back: “you can’t turn your back on the enemy (y/n)! what were you thinking?! if this were real, you’d be dead!”
his grip on your wrist loosens and you spin from underneath him, attempting to kick him off but he sees it coming. he adjusts himself and makes it impossible to kick him and his hands fly back to your wrists, this time pinning them to the floor beside your head. you struggle for a bit but deem the fight over. you lay on your back looking up at him and he looks down at you; both catching your breath.
when he speaks again it comes across as gentle, as concerned.
“you need to get your stamina up, and you need more practice with your sword..” he continues on but you cut him off
“im trying!”
“you need to try harder!” he fights back.
you must give him a face because he immediately apologizes
“im sorry, but i don’t want to see anything happen to you and you need to be able to protect yourself.”
“thank you keith, but i think we’re done for today..” you trail off and he quickly realizes the position you’re in; him straddling your waist and your arms pinned to the floor.
he jumps off of you and reaches out a hand to help you up but you ignore it; pulling yourself up you turn from him and retrieve your sword.
he quietly watches as you hang your practice sword on the rack and walk out of the training room without another word.
a voice suddenly sounds from the upper-level of the room “you can’t expect her to like you back when you’re so harsh on her.”
keith looks up and finds shiro leaning over the railing, looking down at keith with a certain look on his face
“i didn’t do anything wrong shiro, i was helping her train!”
“and so you told her to try harder? do you know how much she practices? you need to learn how to word things better, keith.”
keith gives him a death stare and shiro just shook his head and headed out of the room to leave keith with his thoughts
keith sighed loudly and ran his hands through his hair
Summary: Keith Kogane had never taken a liking to children. He thought they were far too fragile. He thought of himself as incapable of caring for anyone under the age of eighteen – and yet the day he meets you and your five year old daughter, he is unable to stop himself from getting wrapped up in your family dynamics.
Genre: mostly fluff, but a lil sprinkle of angst in there.
Warning: mentions of a broken family, if that's something y'all don't want to read about.
Notes: masterlist – SOOOOOFT KEITH
---
Sonder: (n) the realisation that each passer-by has a life as vivid and complex as your own.
---
Keith was tired.
His final order of the night until he would be granted permission to go home, and he was tired.
This always happened. He could go through an entire day, delivering pizzas and gradually hating his life more and more as the night went on, but as soon as he reached that final house, his body truly felt as if it was going to cave in on itself.
He braced himself in the car before he went in. The warmth from the thermal oven in the back of the vehicle was making sweat trickle down the back of his neck, his red uniform sticking to him uncomfortably. He plucked at it, rearranged his shirt – anything to make the time drag out a little bit more.
He sighed whenever he realised that he would eventually have to move; at the end of the day, the customer had paid for food, and food was what they would get. Keith was just slightly angry that it had to be him delivering it.
With careful hands, Keith picked up the bag in which the order had been placed – peeking inside, something he always did, he saw that the bag contained a kids meal and a full twelve inch pizza.
He tried his hardest to fight off the grimace on his face whenever he finally knocked on the front door. With his luck, his exhaustion would have worn him out to the point where he wasn't even able to follow the GPS – he had probably gotten the wrong house, was probably going to have to spend the next half hour trying to figure out where he should actually be rather than going to bed and sleeping, just like he-
The door opened – seemingly on its own.
Keith raised a brow at the empty space before him, craning his neck in his attempts to find somebody he could shove the food off to – but nobody was there. The door had just opened entirely on its own, and now Keith looked even more like a fool.
“Hello.”
He nearly cried out.
Although no noise escaped him, he still flinched away from the door he had been leaning towards, eyes frantically snapping down and clicking on a little girl standing in the doorway. She couldn't have been more than five years old, looking up at Keith with big green eyes, her finger stuck in her mouth. She was wearing a pair of light pink pyjamas, had a teddy bear curled in her arm – she looked like the dictionary definition of an innocent child.
Keith wasn't sure what to do.
He wasn't good with kids. He had never been around them growing up, meaning he lacked the emotional skills that one may need to care for such a small, innocent human being.
“Hello,” he hesitantly replied. “Uh... Did you happen to order pizza?”
“My mummy did,” she said.
Keith nodded slowly. What else was he to do? The little girl continued to stare up at him, as if waiting for him to come up with some smart-witted remark in response to what she had said – but there was nothing to say. So her mum had ordered food – where was her mum?
“Do you maybe wanna go and get your mummy so she can take the food?” asked Keith.
The little girl shook her head, black head of curls swinging wildly around her face in a way that almost made Keith chuckle with fondness. “No. Mummy's only just got home from work. She was tired.”
“Tired?” Keith raised a brow. “Is she sleeping?”
The little girl nodded.
Keith swallowed. She was sleeping. The little girls mummy was sleeping, and by the looks of things, the little girl had nobody else with her – or else they would have opened the door, surely?
Despite himself, Keith couldn't help the spike of worry that arose within him. He wouldn't feel right simply handing over the bag of food and leaving the little girl in this house on her own. She clearly had no worries about stranger danger, opening the door to anybody who knocked. It wouldn't be safe to trust her on her own.
So, Keith did the responsible, adult thing and bent down to the girls height. Her green eyes followed his every movement.
“What's your name?” he asked.
“Hope.”
“Hope. That's a pretty name.” Keith winced. Was that how you were meant to talk to children? “Listen, Hope. My name's Keith. I'm your pizza delivery man.”
Hope nodded. “Mummy said you were bringing us dinner.”
“I am.” Keith indicated to the bag of food beside him. Hope immediately gasped, her finger falling from her mouth. She dove towards the takeout bag, startling Keith, and started rummaging through it.
“Mummy ordered me pizza and chips!” she exclaimed happily. “Ooh, and a big pizza, too!”
Keith couldn't suppress his chuckle. “Yeah, she did. But I'm gonna need you to go and get your mummy up so she can come and get the food off me. Does that sound like something you can do?”
Hope shook her head, still rummaging around in the bag. “No. Mummy's tired. You can get her up.”
Keith blanked. “Hm?”
“You wake her up.” And then, without a care in the world, Hope snatched the kids meal out of the bag and dashed back into the house, leaving the door open in a silent invitation for Keith to follow her.
Keith sat there, squatting upon this strangers doorstep. Exhaustion was still thrumming in his veins, causing a headache to appear behind his eyelids, but the shock of the moment was beginning to chase that feeling away.
Did he walk in? Never before had he entered one of his customers houses – especially not to wake them up. If there was no answer, he tended to just turn around and leave.
He slowly rose, grabbing the food. He made to call out for Hope, to tell her he couldn't just enter her house without an adults permission-
CRASH!
Hope cried out.
Keith wasn't sure when he had dashed into the house, or why he had done it, or where the food had gone, but he was in the house in seconds. It was small enough that he was able to pin point the room in which Hope was almost as soon as he entered through the front door; whenever he rounded the corner into the kitchen, he could see that the little girl had been trying to reach the knives and forks, had pulled a chair over in her attempts and ended up slamming her head against the counter.
Keith grabbed her as she wobbled on the edge of the chair, gripping her eyebrow, howling. He half expected her to start thrashing in his grip, tell him to leave her alone, but the girl did no such thing; in fact, she nuzzled into his neck, stifling her scream-like-sobs in his flesh.
Keith awkwardly patted her back. “Sh, it's okay. That was silly, wasn't it? Climbing chairs isn't safe.”
“I wanted a fork!” Hope howled.
“You ask an adult whenever you want something from a high-up shelf,” Keith said. “Then you won't get-”
“Oh my goodness, Hope!”
Keith instinctively tightened his grip on the little girls waist, spinning around with her now resting on his hip – why he hadn't just left her to stand on the chair, he wasn't sure, but the protective flare up in his body told him that that wasn't a good idea.
He relaxed as soon as he saw you, though.
Barrelling into the kitchen with your hair a dishevelled mess, it was clear who you were. You wore a white shirt that was in desperate need of ironing; there was mascara staining the bottom of your eyelids and a single mark on your exposed shin from where you had slammed your leg against the door in your haste to the kitchen.
You ran over to Keith and snatched Hope from his arms, holding her tight to your collar bone and quietly cooing in her ear. Now, Keith didn't know what to do.
He had been stupid. Why had he walked in? Now he would be stuck with the impossible task of explaining to you why he was in your house, holding your little girl as she cried and screamed.
It seemed as if those questions truly were the ones you wanted answers to, though you didn't say anything just yet. You looked over Hope's trembling shoulder, inspecting Keith cautiously – he was shocked by your appearance just as much as you were shocked about his. You didn't look much older than twenty years old – Keith was twenty two. How was he older than a person with a five year old child?
Suddenly self conscious, Keith ducked his head down and gathered up his hat which had fallen from his shock of black hair in his haste to get to Hope's side.
“Your food will be £8.68.”
“Thank you so much,” was all you said.
Keith shrugged. “It was nothing.”
“Mummy, the pizza man saved my life,” Hope said. Her voice was trembling as she peeled herself away from your collar bone to look into your eyes. “He told me to ask an adult whenever I want something from big shelves.”
You raised a brow. “Big shelves?”
“High up shelves,” Keith corrected. His face was burning.
You nodded slowly, looking between Hope and Keith. Keith wanted nothing more than to just get up and leave, go home and spend the rest of the night watching Netflix on his sofa whilst his room mate snored away in the other room – that was how Keith always spent his nights. But he instead found himself standing in your extremely small kitchen, waiting to see what you had to say about his heroics of the night.
Keith looked up from the floor, immediately regretted it.
Your lower lip was trembling. Why was your lower lip trembling? What was going on? What was Keith supposed to do? Would it be rude of him to just crash by you and sprint to the car before anything else happened?
Your eyes started flooding with tears, and before Keith could, indeed, crash past you, you had broken down into fits of tears, hands trembling against Hope's back. Hope gasped in that dramatic way that five year olds always do. Apparently, her way of comforting was to merely reach up and start playing with the ends of your hair.
Keith, upon seeing that Hope's tactic was doing very little to soothe you, hesitantly reached forward and placed a hand on your arm.
“Hey, hey, none of that,” he said. That was what his dad used to say to him whenever he started crying – clearly it only worked on children, as your tears only got more prominent with every passing moment. “W-what's wrong? Hope's okay.”
“I'm okay, Mummy!” Hope wound her short arms around your neck, clung on for dear life.
You shook your head, pressing a hand to your nose and closing your eyes tightly. “I'm sorry. I'm such an idiot. I should just be thankful Hope didn't get herself hurt too badly.”
“Exactly,” Keith croaked out, unable to come up with any other response in such a short space of time.
“God, you must think I'm such an awful mother,” you said suddenly, and Keith's heart dropped.
Okay, he would be lying if he were to say that he didn't think you slightly irresponsible – you had fallen asleep and left your five year old daughter to fend for herself in a house full of hazards – but he couldn't say that to you. It was obvious you had very deep regrets about the whole thing, and Keith could honestly say he had never seen a person run as fast as you had upon hearing the wailings of your daughter.
“What? No. No, of course not,” Keith flustered, still rubbing your arm awkwardly.
“I've just been so tired,” you sobbed. “Work hasn't been the best – I'm gonna need to find a new job, I think, but between shifts and looking after Hope on my days off, I just don't have time for job interviews, or to prepare myself for anything else.”
“Anything else? What do you do now?”
You looked up, slightly cautious all of a sudden. Keith caught sight of the small blush staining your cheeks, and had the sudden urge to take his words back.
“I'm a cleaner,” you replied, before hastily adding, “For now! I'm a cleaner for now. I don't plan on staying there for long – the hours are ridiculous, and I don't get paid enough.”
“Mummy cleans other people's rooms when they're on holiday,” Hope chimed in, still messing with the ends of your frizzy hair.
You looked up. “I clean hotel rooms.”
Keith blinked. His gut was churning. The headache had disappeared completely, replaced with an array of thoughts that were truly so bizarre he was contemplating just shutting them out entirely – but that was easier said than done as he looked at you now, tears staining your cheeks. You had looked away from Keith at this point, turned your attention on the little girl who was currently bobbing on your hip; there was a tiny red splotch just above her eyebrow, and you were running your finger over it continuously, as if smoothing it out.
Keith couldn't just leave, though he wasn't sure why. He was a pizza delivery boy – it wasn't like his life was any better. As soon as he thought that, though, he immediately wanted to kick himself; just because he got tired during his shift, just because his boss was an absolute prick, didn't mean he had an awful life. He would never be able to imagine what it must feel like to be so young and have a child to look after – and judging by the sight before him, it was only you and Hope who lived here. There was no father to be seen anywhere.
Keith stuffed his hands in his pocket, tried to restrain himself from saying anything that would come back and bite him.
The restraints snapped whenever Hope quietly said, “I don't want you to work tomorrow, Mummy. You always smell like cleaning soap.”
“I can get you a job at the pizza place I work at,” Keith suddenly spat out. It was as if his mouth was working quicker than his brain.
Your looked up at Keith, eyes wide. Your lips had previously been pursed at Hope's comment, but now Keith saw them slowly peel away from one another as your jaw fell.
“What?”
“The place is always hiring,” said Keith awkwardly yet desperately. “Everyone who works there gets two days off a week, and nobody works longer than eight hours per shift. It's not – It's not that bad, really, and it's pretty close to here.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “And if you ever need a lift, I can always come and pick you up.”
You were silent for a second. Keith shifted his feet, refusing to look up in fear of making his embarrassment clear; he had offered you the job. He would be deemed an absolute monster if he were to take the offer away from you now.
“You would do that?” you asked quietly.
“Well, sometimes listening to my boss complain about the lack of staff gets a little bit annoying. We're killing two birds with one stone.”
Hope gasped, twisted in your grip and swatted Keith's arm. “Don't kill the birdies!”
Keith chuckled light-heartedly, slowly reached out and ruffled Hope's hair. The girl crinkled her nose up, reached her arms out towards Keith in request. You looked at your daughter in shock, looked at Keith with the same wide eyes before Hope was clambering out of your arms and into Keith's.
He held her on his hip, looking back at you for an answer to his offer as Hope started playing with the ends of his hair.
“I – I'd be really grateful if you could talk to your boss for me,” you said. “I know I haven't shown much, but I can cook, and clean, and I'm good with people.”
Keith smiled despite himself. “The boss will be overjoyed. I'll tell you the verdict as soon as I know.”
You nodded, suddenly rummaging around in your pocket in search of something. “Thank you. Thank you so much. Here, let me give you my number – maybe you could give it to your boss so he can call me whenever he knows.”
Keith flushed. What a strange end to the night.
----
Keith.
That was his name. Although you had read it on his name tag whenever you first saw him, he had been kind enough to tell you it before leaving your house that night. You had told him your own, handed over your phone number, and were now patiently waiting for destiny to take it's course.
You knew it was a risk getting your hopes up. There was no guarantee that Keith's boss would even think of you as a liable person to contact without a job interview in place – a job interview you couldn't afford to appear at. That was what made this all so difficult – you were either working, or caring for your five year old daughter, and you would be damned if you gave up the short amount of time you had with her for a job interview.
You sat with Hope on your lap. It was currently 5:00pm, and you were watching re-runs of Peppa Pig on the TV. Your bowls of spaghetti had been emptied and laid on the table in front of you, Hope with her head nuzzled in your collar bone and her finger popped in her mouth as the soft world of childhood cartoons whisked her into sleep.
The warm atmosphere was abruptly cut off by the sound of your phone blaring.
Hope started. It was a habit of hers to think she had to answer every single phone call you received, and now was no different. Despite her drowsiness, she still managed to throw herself forward, grab onto your phone and press 'ACCEPT CALL' before you even had a chance to read the Caller ID over her shoulder.
“Keith! Keith!” Hope exclaimed into the receiver. “Keith, Mummy and I are watching Peppa Pig. You need to call back later.”
Your eyes widened. You snatched the phone out of Hope's hand, sent her a warning glare before pressing the phone to your ear.
Keith was still chuckling.
“I'm so sorry,” you said. “She's watching Peppa Pig.”
“So I heard,” Keith replied. “Are you both doing okay?”
“We're doing great. We had spaghetti for dinner, didn't we?” You gently poked Hope in the stomach. She squealed, flopping off of your lap and scrambling over to the other side of the sofa, cuddling a pillow protectively to her chest.
Keith laughed even louder then. “Well, I'm happy to hear it. Listen, I spoke to my boss a few nights ago and he's only just got back to me now-” Your heart thundered. “He said he would love to bring you in for some nights during the week if you're willing to do it.”
Honestly, the world could have shattered then and there and you wouldn't have noticed.
There was an emotion flooding your body that you couldn't place. Relief? There was definitely relief. Your shoulders seemed a little looser, your cheek muscles no longer constantly tense. But there was an overwhelming surge of happiness that rattled within you at the same time, especially whenever you glanced over at Hope (who was now dancing to the Peppa Pig end credits) and realised that perhaps you would be able to see her grow up.
“Keith,” you spluttered. “Thank you so much. I can't even – wow. Are you serious?”
“I am deadly serious,” he replied. “See you on Monday, then?”
You pressed a hand to your mouth, spoke through your fingers. “I'll see you on Monday.”
---
Monday could not have come sooner.
Your excitement was prominent as you got ready for your first day of work. You had woken up two hours before your alarm, had made Hope and yourself a fairly large breakfast consisting of pancakes – Hope's favourite, though she very nearly fell asleep in them this morning – and orange juice to wash it down.
By the time you were due to leave, the babysitter, Veronica, had commented multiple times on how excitable you seemed this morning – she didn't understand. You were indeed excited – excited to finally be away from cleaning hotel rooms, excited to start building a life where you might be at least a little bit happy with the work you were doing. Sure, working in a pizza place wasn't much, but it was an improvement from your previous occupation.
The pizza place in question was called 'Voltron Pizza Parlour' and was run by a man named Lance McClain – a young man who had taken the firm over from his father only a few years prior. Despite Lance still being young, the place looked clean and relatively well-run when you pulled up.
Lance led you into the kitchens and gave you a quick tour, showing you where you would be working and what you would be doing. He made it a clear point to inform you that this wasn't a guaranteed job – you would be paid for the work you did, but if Lance saw himself unable to click with you, or thought there was someone better for the job, you wouldn't be kept around. You were here for a trial run.
For some reason, this fact didn't unnerve you as much as you thought it should have.
After Lance had left you to your own devices, you teetered around the kitchen on your own for a little while. Nobody else was present, the parlour having not opened to the public yet, which you found yourself feeling grateful for; it gave you a moment to gather your wits, examine the place and take a moment to intake this sudden change of life.
“I really am the only person in the world who would be overjoyed at working in a pizza parlour,” you mumbled to yourself.
“I was pretty excited whenever I got hired.”
You yelped, spinning around to face the doorway in which the voice had come from; standing there with his arms folded over his chest and an amused smile pulling on his features was no other than the very man who had gotten you here in the first place – Keith Kogane.
You flushed, remembering a few days before when he had caught you in your most vulnerable of moments; all he wanted to do was drop off your pizza order, and yet he had ended up saving your daughter from imminent damage to her skull and had also had the pleasure of watching you break down in the middle of your kitchen.
“You're here early,” you commented. “I thought deliveries didn't start until midday.”
“They don't,” he replied, sauntering into the kitchen with a faux air of confidence around him – you could see right through it, bit back the snicker that was threatening to reach the surface. “I just thought I'd come and give you company on your first day, see how you're fitting in. It looks like Lance likes you, at least.”
“It does? You spoke to him?”
Keith shrugged. “Lance and I kind of have a love-hate relationship. I walked past him on his way out and he didn't even insult me – I'm taking that as a sign that you impressed him.”
“Thank God,” you said. “Let's hope I can keep it up. He told me I was going to be a server.”
Keith's eyebrows shot up to his hairline, his smile widening. “A server, eh? That jobs got an even higher pay than what I've got!”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Unless you count fuel money, which I don't.”
“Of course you wouldn't.”
“Hey, good going.” Keith reached over, gently touched your elbow. He recoiled almost immediately, tucked his hand into his trousers as if he regretted making such a move in the first place.
It was becoming more and more clear to you that Keith Kogane perhaps wasn't the most socially-adept person. Whenever you had first met him, he had a habit of stuttering over his words, going silent for long periods of time – it made him that much more appealing to you. Being a mother, it was close to impossible for you to be bad at conversation making. Having a five year old child constantly clinging to your side made room for plenty of conversation, whether it be about Hope's growing or the new habit she had picked up that week.
“Well,” Keith said, coughing awkwardly. “I guess I should get going – clock in and all that stuff. I bid you good luck on your first day.” He bowed dramatically, winced at his own actions before he was turning to leave. You watched him scatter out of the kitchen, an amused grin finding perch on your face.
The state of amusement you had found yourself in could not last forever, though, and you were abruptly reminded of that whenever the day finally began.
It was busier than you expected. Though you were always aware of just how popular this particular pizza parlour was, you had once been under the assumption that most of their income came directly from deliveries and not walk-in orders; oh, how wrong you were.
Now that you had the task of managing the counters during the day, you were beginning to see just how busy the place actually got. By the time 6pm rolled around and your shift was coming to an abrupt ending after eight hours, the effects of the day were clawing at you with a most vigorous insistence.
You leaned against the counter, closing your eyes against the headache forming. Despite the exhaustion and the stiffness in your jaw from the amount you had been forced to smile today, you were still high with the giddiness of having a job that didn't include getting on hands and knees to scrub sex-stained floors and sheets.
“First day over finally?”
Your head jerked up. Standing before you was Keith Kogane, now dressed up in his red uniform with his hat clenched in his hands. He was smiling at you, looking over the counter with a smile on his face.
“Yep,” you replied. “It wasn't so bad. I'm just exhausted now.”
“Yeah, you get used to that. It never goes away, though.” He chuckled as you hollowed out your cheeks, wiping a hand over your brow as if to exaggerate sweating. “How are you getting home, then?”
“My house is only a few blocks up; I'm just gonna walk it. We still have a few hours of daylight left.”
Keith blanked. His smile faded and he blinked at you as if he hadn't quite processed what you had just told him. You raised a brow in question to his sudden demeanour change, when suddenly he was plucking his keys out of his pocket and nodding towards the door.
“Come on. I'll drop you off. The next delivery hasn't been booked in for another few hours.”
Your eyes widened. Keith was already starting towards the door before you had a chance to reach out and grab him. Hastily, you tossed your apron off from over your head and clambered behind the counter, rushing up behind him before the door swung closed.
“You don't have to,” you insisted. “I walked here. I won't get lost.”
“You should have called me,” said Keith, not once looking over at you as he spoke. He was acting as if this was a natural occurrence, the slight blush rising on his cheeks being the only indication that perhaps he was a little more flustered than he was letting on. “I told you I'd pick you up in the mornings.”
“You don't start until midday. I'm not dragging you out of bed to come and pick me up whenever I'm perfectly capable of walking on my own.”
“Yeah, well, just because you can do something, doesn't mean you should.” He smiled at you then, indicating the end of the conversation and putting an abrupt stop to any more arguments you may have had for him.
You sat in the passenger seat, half-expecting silence, but silence was not what you were given.
You didn't know where the chattiness had come from. Though you were far from socially-incapable, you still found yourself only making conversation to be polite. But with Keith, it seemed a bit more than that, as if you had to tell him just how well Hope was doing in school, as if you had to tell him that she had stained the bottom of your shower with an old box of hair dye she had found in the cupboards. And Keith listened. He did more than listen. He was grinning from ear-to-ear, nodding along, laughing as you went through the shenanigans of your five year old daughter.
Strangely, it warmed your heart. You were so used to men wanting to venture as far from the topic of children as humanly possible – whether the fact that she was father-less made them uncomfortable or whether it was something else entirely, you weren't sure, but most men simply said “How cute,” before changing the topic to something more adult.
“You know, she really is something special,” said Keith after calming himself down from a fit of laughter he had broken into upon hearing about Hope's phobia of dinosaur chicken nuggets. “She's sweet. You raised her well.”
You flushed, looking down at your hands. “Well. . . It hasn't been easy. All on my own, I mean. There's times when I genuinely think I'm the worst mother that's ever been blessed with a kid.”
Keith frowned. “Don't think like that.”
“I think it's just reflex for most single parents.”
“It shouldn't be. You're a great mother.”
You found that a bit hard to believe; Keith had seen you making big mistakes first hand. He had been the one who had been forced to endure your small breakdown only a few days ago as you wallowed in the fact that your daughter had been left on her own purely because you had been too exhausted to keep your eyes open.
You appreciated him trying to lighten your spirits, but it was much easier said than done. It was more of an internal thing, something only you on your own would be able to sort out at the end of the day.
Keith pulled up outside of your house and tapped the steering wheel before turning to look at you; it was as if he was bracing himself, now unsure of what to say in farewell.
You smiled at him, snatching your bag up. “You coming in to see Hope?”
Keith froze. “I can?”
“Of course you can. She's been talking about you for days.” You pushed open your door and clambered out of the car. “Come on.”
As expected, as soon as Hope spotted Keith, she was squealing with excitement and rushing up to hug his legs. Keith grunted as soon as the little bundle made contact with his knees, and he was quick to bend down and scoop her up in his arms. Hope kicked her legs and squealed even more, wrapping her arms around Keith's neck and messing with the flicked-up hair at the nape of it.
“Hey, kid,” Keith chuckled. “How have you been?”
“Keith!” she exclaimed. “Keith, come look at the cookies me and Veronica made!”
“Ooh, cookies? Did you leave some for me and Mummy?” Keith asked as he set Hope on the ground and let her lead the way into the kitchen. You smiled warmly at Veronica, who was sitting on the sofa with a cup of coffee in her hand, before following Keith and Hope.
Sure enough, a tray of cookies was laid out on the table. They had no particular shape, though you could tell that they were meant to. Most of them had somehow melted into the other ones, creating one big blob of cookie.
“Yum,” Keith hummed, prodding at one before hissing and pulling his finger back in mock hurt.
Hope gasped, grabbing Keith's wrist and immediately pouring her water over it. Your eyes widened as the water drowned the table, but Keith simply laughed, pretending to feel some sense of relief as Hope tried desperately to help his pretend burn.
“You're a doctor and a chef?” he asked, poking her stomach.
Hope giggled, before her face scrunched up at the sight of water dribbling off the table cloth and onto the floor. She looked up at you, eyes big in pretend innocence. “Mummy, I knocked my water over.”
Keith barked out a laugh at this, spinning to catch a glimpse of your own reaction. Usually, you would scold the little girl for doing something like that, but upon seeing Keith's face lit up with amusement, you could do no such thing.
Instead, you pouted and nodded. “Looks like we're gonna have to clean it up, aren't we?”
Hope nodded, grabbing Keith's hand. “Come help!”
“Okay, okay. Be quick, though. I've gotta be leaving for work soon.”
Hope frowned. “No.”
“I'm afraid I have no choice, but I'll miss you.” Keith laid a hand on Hope's head. “I'll see you soon, though, won't I? All you have to do is order a pizza from Voltron Pizza Parlour and I'll be right at your door in minutes.”
“You promise?”
Keith smiled warmly, bent down so he could look Hope in her wide, green eyes. “I promise.” And then the two curled pinkies, and you could have sworn you had never seen a sight quite so precious in your life.
----
Settling in to a routine took you only a few days, meaning you were well prepared and well accustomed to your job by the time the three months mark was coming round.
You had worked in the kitchen on multiple occasions, though the majority of your work was spent out front, serving customers. The eight hour days were beginning to get easier, your body getting used to the drag that appeared at around 4:00pm every day – but it was okay, because you had two days off during the week to reenergise your body, a fact which you did not take for granted.
You had been able to take Hope to the park on multiple occasions, had been able to take her to a butterfly museum during one of your days off – you were finally able to make decent memories with your little girl, and you would never be able to articulate just how grateful that fact made you.
Today, you had been ordered to close up the kitchen for the night.
The day had ended, the moon shining through the oversized windows of the parlour. The 'CLOSED' sign was hung up on the door, and the tables had long since been scrubbed down by Pidge, a fellow co-worker of yours with whom you had grown exceptionally close to over the past three months – another benefit of working here; you now had a social life that didn't surround unfriendly hotel customers.
“Have a good night,” Pidge called over her shoulder when her shift had finally ended. Yourself and Pidge were the last two to leave the parlour tonight, her leaving only minutes before you. As soon as the door closed behind her, you whirled on your heel and headed into the kitchen, ready to close up for the day and get yourself home.
Keith had been dropping you home as of late. You expected he was waiting outside for you to finish up now, though the thought made you a little uneasy. Keith had a difficult enough job as it was, and you knew for a fact that he wanted nothing more than to go home and curl up in bed – but instead he put himself out trying to make sure you got home safely.
Most days he would come in and say hello to Hope – the two of them were best friends by now, and Hope made sure to ask about him all the time, asking how he was and if he was willing to try any more of the baked goods she had got into the habit of making. It warmed your heart. Hope had never been too friendly with men; she was quite scared of them, not being used to having them around her. She never had a father, and the only two people she had ever truly trusted were you and Veronica.
But she had taken an instant liking to Keith, which was something that both confused you and made you happy.
The kitchen was still warm when you entered. You shook off your apron, placing it on the coat rack before making your way around and packing up all of the used utensils; knives and forks littered the counter, a random pizza tray hanging out of the dish washer with water still glistening on is surface. You frowned, picked it up and dried it off before placing it back in the cupboard for later use.
Keith appeared in the doorway only a few minutes later. You heard him before you saw him, his black boots clacking off the tiled floor before he came to a stop, leaning against the door frame and watching you scatter yourself around the kitchen in your attempts to get cleaned up as quick as possible.
“Don't put yourself out,” you teased. “I'll wash all these dishes myself.”
“Oh, good,” Keith shot back immediately. “My back is killing me. I didn't want to have to move.”
You chuckled, glancing at him over your shoulder. “Your back hurts?”
He sat up a little straighter, stretching his back muscles in demonstration. “A little bit. Sitting in that car all day doesn't do much good for my posture.”
“Come here,” you said. You set the towel you had been holding onto the counter, ushered Keith forward. He raised a brow, taking small unsure steps into the heated kitchen. “Oh, Keith, come on!” You grabbed his hand and dragged him towards you. He grunted, stumbling forward before you placed your hands on his shoulders and span him back around to face the door.
“What are you doing?”
“This is what I used to do for Hope whenever she was stiff as a baby,” you said. “The doctors always told me it works wonders for children.”
“Right. . . In case you didn't know this, Y/N, I'm a twenty two year old man.”
“How much different can it be?” you asked, before you dug your thumbs into the base of his neck and started to rub soothing circles into the flesh. Almost as soon as you started the actions, a croak-like noise escaped Keith's mouth and his response to your previous question was forgotten. You could barely hide your amusement as you continued to massage him. His eyes fluttered closed, his jaw dropping open, his head falling back so that it would have been resting on your shoulder if he had been only a few inches shorter.
It was silent in the kitchen as you worked at his muscles, you concentrating on trying to get the knot out. He wiggled in your grip, guiding your hands with his movements. You eventually became very well aware of the muscles moving beneath his red shirt, slipping beneath your fingers and making you flush; you had never taken Keith as the type of work out, but you were fairly certain it was impossible for somebody to get back muscles like he had without the help of a good work out.
“Christ, Y/N, where did you learn to do that?” he groaned out, startling you.
You had the sudden urge to pull your hands away to cover your flushing face, but you refrained from doing so. “Back when Hope was a baby, she used to get sore muscles sometimes – she was born early, you see, so there was some growth issues in the beginning.”
“Really? You never told me that.”
“It didn't last too long, but we had to get all these techniques to help her whenever her muscles got stiff when she was growing – this was one of the massages the doctor taught me. It was the only one that helped her sleep.”
“I can see why. I feel like I'm gonna fall asleep standing upright.”
You chuckled, finally letting your hands drop away from his back. In the moment, you had nearly forgotten about the task you had been assigned, and hastily turned on your heel to get back to it.
“Well, I'll be here to do it any time you like,” you said. “Just try and sit up sometimes, you know. It can't be nice being cramped in that warm car all day.”
Keith shrugged, going back to leaning against the door frame with his arms folded over his chest. “I'm used to it. Just the odd pain now and then, but now I have you to help with that, so it's okay.”
You rolled your eyes. “You don't even sound grateful.”
“Me taking you home every day should be enough to prove how grateful I am.”
“Good point.”
Yet another silence grasped you, but neither of you made an effort to fill it in – you saw no point. No silence with Keith was ever awkward. In fact, you were positive that you could sit in complete silence with him for the rest of your life, and still manage to have a good time.
You turned towards the ovens, reached forward and-
“Y/N!”
Keith's warning came a little too late.
You cried out when your arm made contact with the scolding metal – your flesh couldn't have done more than brush against it, and yet it felt as if somebody had tossed hot acid against your skin. You were on the floor before you had even registered your knees giving out, pulling your burning arm into your chest and cradling it in your attempts to get rid of the pain.
“Christ,” Keith hissed, dropping to his knees beside you. “What did you do?”
“The oven was left on,” you ground out. “Fuck, that hurts! Why did nobody turn it off?”
Keith shook his head dumbly. His face had gone pale, his hands hovering awkwardly in front of your arm, as if he was unsure whether to take it or not. You groaned and thrust your arm into his hands, forcing him to have a look at the damage.
It was worse than you cared to admit to yourself. The skin had been seared off, tiny droplets of blood dotting the new-found indents in your flesh. It reminded you of the skin of a zombie.
Keith examined it closely, his tongue peaking out between his lips. He said nothing before he was grabbing you by the whole part of your arm and pulling you up from the floor, one arm winding around your waist to make sure you didn't black out from the pain.
He dragged you over to the sink, turned the water on and forced your arm beneath it. At first, it hurt. You hissed, tried to pull it out of the stream, but with a stern look from Keith, you eased into it and let the cold soothe the scorching skin.
“Better?” Keith asked, raising a brow at you.
You smiled weakly in response. Now that your mind had been taken away from the pain, you were beginning to feel slightly embarrassed for your own actions – of course it would be you who would end up getting third-degree burns from an oven.
Keith noticed the flush rising on your cheeks and gently squeezed your waist. “It happens to the best of us. We'll get it bandaged up, get you some ointment for it and you'll be as good as new.”
“Hope's gonna be mortified when she sees it.”
Keith frowned. “We'll tell her it's a superhero mark or something. Make it sound really cool.”
“Yeah, like 'Mummy stupidly burned herself on an oven.' A heroes tale.”
“All superheroes did something stupid to make them into superheroes,” Keith said. “Spiderman got bit by a spider, Lizard Boy wanted to grow his limb back and just ended up turning himself into a lizard-”
You snickered. “He did?”
Keith nodded, grinning. “I'm being honest – these superhero films are insane. Your film can start with you getting burned on an oven.”
“And you're my trusty sidekick?”
Keith chuckled, his eyes wrinkling into crescents. “Call me Robin, I guess.”
----
“Hope, Mummy's home! And Keith's come to visit as well!”
Hope gasped from the living room. It was only seconds before she was barrelling down the hallway in her onesie and throwing herself towards you, arms outstretched.
Keith caught her only moments before she was due to throw herself into you. He wrapped an arm around her waist, tugged her into his chest and swirled her around. “Oh, no you don't. Mummy's got a sore arm, haven't you?”
You pouted, nodding as you rolled up your sleeve to reveal the bandage wrapped around your lower arm. Hope gasped, reaching out and poking at it gently, her eyes wide in fascination at seeing an actual injury.
“What happened? What happened to my Mummy?” she asked.
“Just a little accident with something hot,” you replied, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. “Nothing to worry about. Keith got me all patched up.”
Hope hugged Keith immediately. There was nothing unsure about her actions; she simply turned in the mans hold, wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into a hug that had Keith flushing bright red as he hugged her back. You had to start walking towards the kitchen to hide the smile that was trying to make its way onto your face.
“What were you doing all day, then?” you heard Keith ask.
“Veronica and I watched Peppa Pig, and then she made me dinner, and then I was on the phone to grandma, and she said she was going on holiday for the warm months. Can we go on holiday, Mummy? Me, you and Keith?”
“Maybe one day, sweetie.”
“Oh, that would be great, wouldn't it?” Keith chirped. You turned to see he was standing in the door way – a usual spot for Keith to take perch, apparently – with Hope now resting on his hip, her hands knotted in their usual place at the back of his head. “Antarctica sounds good.”
Hope threw her head back and laughed dramatically, her five year old brain finding Keith's joke much funnier than it was. “No, silly! Antarctica is cold!”
“Not in summer it's not.”
“No, it is,” Hope insisted. You grinned to yourself, eyebrow raised in Keith's direction. He looked at you and frowned.
“What?”
“She's my daughter,” you said. “You can't trick her into thinking the Antarctica isn't cold.”
Keith rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out at you, prompting Hope to swat him on the nose. “That's my Mummy!”
“Thank you, baby, for protecting me from the bad man,” you said.
Hope reached out and swatted you on the head. “That's my Keith!”
You felt your heart genuinely quiver in your chest. This statement must have shocked Keith, as well, as you saw his eyes widen and his cheeks light up with colour as soon as the words were spoken; Hope continued to babble on and on about the Peppa Pig episode she had watched that day with Veronica, but you could barely pay her any attention as you looked on at how Keith had reacted to what the little girl had just said.
He was holding her a little tighter. He had moved her from his hip to his chest, holding her against him with his chin pressed to the top of her head, as if he were afraid that she would somehow disappear if he didn't hold her close enough – his eyes were distant, though he continued to nod and hum to everything Hope was saying.
You smiled to yourself, turning on your heel and heading back towards the tap in your attempts to hide it; you weren't sure what it was, but seeing Keith like that, acting like that, getting so flustered over words spoken by a five year old – it made your heart soft. It made you want to tease him and hug him and thank him for being so kind to her, even though he had every reason not to. Being involved with a child was a difficult task, and Keith was still young. He wasn't her father. He had every reason to back out of this if he wanted to, and yet he was currently standing behind you with Hope resting in his arms as if he had helped you raise her from day one.
A part of you silently wished he had.
---
Whenever you told Keith to stay the night, he had been extremely hesitant.
Okay, maybe the offer had excited him just a little bit. Maybe the fact that you now trusted him enough to let him sleep in your guest bedroom had him almost to the point of giddiness, but he would have to be buried six feet under before he even pondered over admitting such a thing; whenever the offer had been made, Hope had immediately started bouncing in his grip, insisting that he take her mother up on the offer.
Keith couldn't just say no, could he? That would be rude, and he didn't quite fancy breaking a five year old girls heart tonight.
Especially Hope. He had grown quite fond of Hope.
The little girl was put to bed and you and Keith were finally able to settle down for the night. For some reason, Keith felt very little nerves as you led him into the living room after saying a quick good night to Hope; Keith had even placed a kiss on her cheek, the first time he had shown such kind affection to her since the day he had met her all them months ago.
But now it was just you and him, alone, and Keith was positive he should have at least felt some sense of anxiety – but there was none. You were grinning from ear to ear, flopping down on the sofa and groaning into the pillows. Keith sat down beside you, smiling as he watched you make a dramatic statement of how tired you were.
“What a day,” you said.
“A day for you. You nearly burned your skin off.”
“I did burn my skin off,” you corrected, rubbing at the bandage on your arm. “But that's not what I meant.”
Keith raised a brow. “Hm?”
“Well,” you started, suddenly looking abashed. “I saw how Hope was with you today. I guess it just kind of . . . made my day that little bit better, you know? Especially after what happened in the kitchen.”
Keith swallowed, tried his hardest to keep his eyes on your own. In this situation, whenever he felt himself getting overwhelmed, he had a habit of just looking away and not addressing the situation any further, but he didn't want to do that with you. Not right now. Not whenever you had showed him such generous hospitality, whenever he genuinely felt like he needed to impress you somehow.
No. That wasn't it. He didn't feel like he needed to impress you. He wanted to, but he was well aware that you would never judge him if he somehow let his flaws shine through, which he had done on multiple occasions. He wasn't the most social person, and sometimes he struggled to keep up a conversation, but that didn't seem to waver you in the slightest – a fact which Keith was extremely grateful for.
It was a shock to him whenever he first realised just how attached to Hope he was getting. It had started from the first day he met her, catching her before she had fallen off of that chair and bashed her head against the counter again – hell, it had started from the moment she opened that door and greeted him with her finger popped in her mouth, looking innocent as anything. Keith had never taken a liking to kids, often excused himself from the situation whenever they were involved, but Hope was somebody different. In a way, she reminded him of himself.
Their upbringings were very different, of course, but similar in the sense that Keith, too, was raised by a single parent. Keith, too, never got to know who his other parent was – whilst Hope didn't know her father, Keith had never met his mother, and had been forced to suffer through the hardships of having a broken family. Keith wanted to be there for Hope whenever she grew up, whenever she went through the unavoidable faze of thinking that it was her fault her father had left. He wanted to be there to assure her that, no, it wasn't her fault, and it never would be her fault.
“I like her,” Keith finally said. “She's – uh – cute.”
You giggled. Keith hadn't noticed you moving, but when he looked over at you now, he saw that you had pulled a pillow over and was hugging it close to your chest. In this moment, you looked strikingly like your daughter, and it made Keith's heart do a tiny leap in his chest.
“She is cute,” you agreed. “Do you wanna see some pictures of her as a baby?”
Keith nodded immediately. You stood up and headed over to the stool on the far side of the living room; you pulled the top of it off, reached in and dragged out a large folder full of crinkled polly pockets, each pocket containing a large number of pictures.
You made your way back over to the sofa and set the folder in the middle, one side of it draped across Keith's leg whilst the other stayed perched on your own. Keith looked down at the pictures you were showing him, and his heart constricted in his chest.
Hope looked so small. There were pictures of her in her cot as a newborn baby, the newborn onesie she was wearing too big for her, pooling over her hands and feet. Even so early on in life, her black hair was clearly going to end up curly, bouncing around her sleeping face. Her little button nose was glistened with cream.
Keith pointed this out in curiosity, and you giggled as if the memory amused you.
“She had dry skin,” you said. “I'm telling you, she was our little medical crisis when she was born.”
Our.
Keith didn't miss this little word in your sentence – our, not mine. Because Hope had a father once. A man who would forever share the same blood as her who had left.
Keith was able to see just who this man was whenever you turned to the next polly pocket, revealing a pile of photos that were all fairly similar – they consisted of three people, two of whom Keith recognised immediately. It was you and Hope, you standing behind a chair in a hospital gown, IV littered hands placed on a strange mans shoulders – the very man who was holding little baby Hope.
Your face fell as soon as you caught sight of the photos before you. You looked so happy in them – the man looked happy too, and for some reason, that fact annoyed Keith. How could that man be smiling and grinning over his newborn daughter, knowing full well that he wouldn't be sticking around long enough to see her grow into the wonderful little girl Keith knew her as today? How could he be sitting there with her sleeping form in his broad arms, knowing full well that as soon as things got tough, he was going to pack up and leave?
Keith gritted his teeth, gently placed his hand on the polly pocket. “Is this him?”
You swallowed thickly. Keith could hear it, could see the way your hands trembled as you traced them over the pictures. “Yeah. That's him.”
“He looks like a tool.”
You closed your eyes, let out a small chuckle that Keith took as a good sign – it was only whenever the tears started dripping down your cheeks did he realise that perhaps the memories were effecting you a little more than he had originally anticipated.
He leaned over quickly, pushing the folder to the side so he could get closer to you. You grunted at the realisation that Keith had seen you crying, let your head fall into your hands.
“God, not again,” you grumbled. “This is the second time you've seen me cry!”
“Hey, it's okay,” he said, wrapping an unsure arm around your shoulders. “It's okay. There's nothing to cry about, Y/N.”
“There is!” you exclaimed. Your head shot up, eyes meeting Keith's for only a brief moment before you were shaking your head and looking away. Keith wanted to pull you closer to him, wanted to wipe the hair out of your face as it stuck to your tear-stained cheeks, but his own hands were trembling and he couldn't quite find the confidence to make such a bold move right now.
“I'm sorry,” you croaked. “I haven't spoken to him in five years. I don't – I don't want to speak to him. We're better off on our own.”
“You are. You're brilliant with her.”
“So was he, though,” you said. “Well, for the first few weeks before he left. He used to do all the night shifts, you know? I was with her when he was away at work, and then he would come home and settle her at night – he was a good dad.”
“He isn't her dad,” Keith insisted, unsure whether it was okay to say such a thing. “He left her, Y/N. He hasn't seen her grow up. Just because you share blood doesn't make you family.”
You swallowed again, staring blankly into the unlit fireplace before you. Your hands were bunched up in your lap, gently nipping at the fabric of your work jeans.
“You're right,” you said. “She's never bothered with men before – I thought she was scared of them, that not having a dad somehow gave her a phobia of them all.” You turned to look at Keith, eyes still watering. “Until you came along, that is.”
Keith blanked. His heart shuddered, his eyes growing that little bit wider – he wasn't sure why. It was no secret that Hope had taken a liking to him, but perhaps it was the knowledge that he was one of the rare few with whom she did like being around that made him feel so shocked. Made him feel so warm.
“She sees you as a friend, I think,” you continued. “She asks about you all the time, wants to know how you're getting on at work, asks for you whenever you're not around – you're her buddy.”
“She's my buddy,” Keith replied instantly, not a second wasted on thinking.
You smiled. It lasted only a minute before it was wavering and fading again. “Please don't hurt her, Keith. I'm not telling you to be around all the time, but if anything happens between us – if we fall out or anything like that – I want you to know that you can still see Hope. You mean a lot to her, and I'd-”
“If anything happens between us?”
Keith raised a brow. You stopped speaking, looked up at him in slight shock at his sudden outburst of disbelief – why would you think such a thing?
“Yeah . . . I mean, we might get in an argument one day, and-”
“And we're both fully grown adults,” Keith said. “And I happen to like you – contrary to popular belief, Y/N, I actually don't like many people, so I have absolutely zero plans to leave you any time soon.”
Your cheeks burned a bright red colour. Keith squeezed your shoulders a little tighter, his stomach in knots as he looked past your head towards the window – it was pitch black outside now, the only light coming from the street lights on the corner. For some reason, the sight made Keith feel like he had to pull you closer, as if the cold from outside was somehow leaking into the house and the only way to keep you warm was by nuzzling you into his side.
You didn't fight against him. In fact, you seemed almost relieved as you shuffled closer, let him gently run his hands up and down your arms in a soothing motion that eventually prompted you to lean your head against his shoulder and inhale the scent of bread that was coming off of him.
“I'm very glad I met you, Keith Kogane,” you whispered into his shirt.
“Not many people have said that to me before.”
You looked up, eyes locking with his own. Your eyes were beautiful. Absolutely stunning, glittering with constellations as if you had snatched the stars right from the sky. Keith nearly cringed at his own thoughts, not being used to thinking such things, but he would be a fool to pretend that that wasn't exactly what was running through his mind. Though Hope had clearly gotten her fathers eyes, the two of you had the same beautiful glisten to your irises.
And maybe it was because Keith didn't want to hear your response to such a sad statement. Maybe he didn't want the mood to be shattered completely – or maybe he just lost all sense of self control, but he was leaning forward long before he could come up with a decent answer as to why. He kissed you, light and tenderly and with every bit of love and appreciation that had been building up in his body these past three months, begging to be released.
You didn't pull away. You didn't fight against his grip. You pressed your lips harder into his own, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him closer to you, as if the space between you was obtrusive, somehow. Knees bashing against knees, chests pressing against chests, lips moulding with lips – it was all happening in what felt like a span of a few seconds, but could have lasted for hours without Keith's noticing.
It was only when you pulled back for air did Keith realise just how lost the two of you had gotten in the moment.
You were worn out, forehead clunking against his own. Your breath fanned his face. He reached up, gently cupped your face and traced the pads of his thumbs beneath your eyes – they came back dry, the tears having long since stopped flowing.
Neither of you could speak, nor did either of you want to. Silence with you was nothing. It didn't feel like silence. It was loud, and it spoke a thousand words – it always did; simply staring into your eyes right now was no issue at all. It was safe. It was home.
“Does this mean Keith can stay forever?”
Keith's eyes widened as the two of you leaped away from one another. You both span around to face the doorway, Keith's cheeks heating up whenever he caught sight of little Hope standing in the doorway, her finger popped into her mouth, her teddy bear huddled close to her chest and her black mane of hair a mess upon her head.
He swallowed, quickly turned back to you. You didn't look nearly half as shocked as he did; in fact, you still looked slightly dishevelled from the kiss you had just been a part of.
You smiled warmly at your daughter, ran a hand through your hair and said, “If he wants to stay forever, Hope, then he can.”
Keith had never wanted anything more.
---
Hope started crying sometime around 4am.
The poor girl had a cold. School had started back only a few days prior, meaning every single kid on the street was getting infected with some kind of virus that showed no mercy to any of them – Hope being no exception.
You groaned and stretched out your limbs, grappling for the night light. You could hear Keith shuffling in the bed beside you, a groan slipping past his own lips as he, too, stretched his legs out across the mattress.
You grabbed a hold of the night light, made to turn it on-
Keith's own hand shot out, grabbing your wrist and shaking the night light out of your grip. “Give that to me. I'll go and get her.”
You frowned into the darkness. “Are you sure?”
Keith switched the light on, illuminating the room and revealing his extremely tired features – he had worked an extra hour tonight, and he had immediately fallen asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.
“Yep,” he grunted, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He turned to you, bent down and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, one you would never get used to but would be forever grateful for as it relaxed your worried bones. “You get some sleep. You've been up with a sick five year old all day.”
“And you've been working all day,” you pointed out. “Keith, give me the light. I'll go and-”
Hope suddenly squealed, desperate for attention.
Keith whirled on his heel, not giving you a chance to finish your sentence before he was rushing into the hallway to go and see to your daughter.
You watched him as he left, feeling a little bit lighter – you had felt lighter these past few months. That was the effect Keith had. He made things easier. He made you happier. Nothing ever seemed like a drag any more, because it was him with whom you were doing it with.
You pulled the quilt over your mouth, as if hiding the smile from the darkness. You couldn't believe he was making you feel this way – like a giddy school girl all over again.
You didn't care, though. In fact, you never wanted the feeling to go away.
