[Keith can't remember the last time he's been this furious, but it's the type that's physically making him shake, and even though he knows there should be a capacitor to regulate this, there's just a hallow sense of guilt and frustration that's bundled like a double helix down to the core of his DNA. A more sensibly minded person could talk this out, would find some comfort in going over how this all happened and coming up with a plan of action. And even though they hadn't put titles on anything, since - fuck expectations - a better archetype of a boyfriend wouldn't do something like get into a heated argument over texts. But he's none of the above, and as he throws his phone up against the wall, it cracks and ceases functionality, and he knows that tomorrow he's going to really, really regret doing that, but it felt so good to give into doing something destructive that it actually calms him. Even though his arm has healed, the motion against the socket causes a dull pain and to actually feel it just fuels whatever poison is nearly coursing through his veins.
Some days it feels like there are way too many things being asked of him, and it grasps around his neck and squeezes, sucks the life out of him. He knows he's made a mistake- no, mistakes are things that easy fixable- a serious malfunction of judgment what with getting his bayard stolen from him in what had to be the cheapest display of a suckerpunch. Eternally caught in a circle of bad judgments, he really only has himself to blame for it as some junker ship cruises away somewhere farther off in the galaxy with a possession that was literally invaluable. Keith wasn't even looking for trouble; it always had its way of finding him even when his intentions weren't misaligned.
Then there's Shiro. He knew it was coming, but he didn't want it to- like the morning of a big mission that, since he couldn't freeze time in some magical charade, would come down on him eventually. Things had never really gone entirely smoothly between the two, and he half hoped that the other would put on the significant other mask rather than the black paladin helmet that he had just recently taken back from Keith barely half a year ago.
This is the recklessness that he had avoided so incredibly fucking well when he was in the leadership role and now that he sinks back into old habits, that he feels there's some security netting behind him, he had taken it for granted, and there's nothing- nothing- that could have been more a wake up call than this exact incident. Maybe he was better off, like the months before when Allura was still piloting and not commanding, and Shiro was becoming re-acclimated to donning the black. With a bum arm and nothing but the stars to look at, things had been so incredibly copacetic that it almost felt too surreal, too honeymoon.
Would that Keith control himself, he would have found himself calming by the thought of it, but no- the fits of anger had only been getting worse the older he got. And as time went on, some wounds opened anew, coupled with the frustration of immobility towards doing simple things like caring for himself. It had taken way too long until he felt feeling in his hand again, and how ironic it was that the first thing he'd been able to do was make a fist. Shiro even joked about it, and Keith laughed, because God- this kid was in love and knowing that it couldn't get worse, at least for now, was all that he could ask for.
The castle looked far more uninviting as he makes his way out of his room. If anything, the older male was right. They shouldn't be having personal arguments over something that can't convey tone and diction, but even through texts he could hear Shiro's voice in his head. He knew exactly what each syllable sounded like, the small bumps in intonation that would have been carried with each word, and Keith doesn't know what to think of anything at the moment. There's a storm of fire making its way down the hall, and as he catches Lance in passing, the blue paladin knows exactly what type of step and cadence that Keith's got about him, knows about the situation, and knows exactly where he's heading. It was like a homing missile, and if he was going to aim, he felt deadly enough to lock onto Shiro's heart and let loose if he had to.
He knocks, takes a breath, and tries to stop himself. There's a small voice in his head that tells him not to say or do anything stupid or that he'll regret, but he needs to get himself across. Shiro wasn't just the black paladin to Keith, and they both knew that, but more than anything, he wanted to trust his lover enough not to pull the leadership card on him when he did stupid things. It was a total, utter, fucking mess- just like everything that Keith does.]
[ Settling back into the position of leader hasn't been easy. He still maintains his contacts where he can and he still does his best to ensure that he balances his time between the paladins and also Thea'la where possible. When the two duties end up meeting in the middle, it's great, but it doesn't happen so often. He keeps in contact with Sendak out of habit, some weird, slightly fucked up habit he can't seem to shake because he does need to keep a finger to the pulse of the Galra rebellion. Doesn't make it any less weird, though.
To their credit, the other paladins have accepted it as easily as they do anything. Hunk wants to cook him everything under the sun and take a look at Black to make sure that she's running properly. It'd been a confusing request until Black pointed out that Red was able to make the sharp turns and short maneuvers as a smaller lion, but Black was a little bit larger. The concern is misplaced, she says, but it's sweet of him to worry. She agrees to let him take a look because they both understand that it's just Hunk trying to do whatever he can while things are weird. Pidge is doing the weird cat thing where they both want to be close to him but seemingly only close enough to give him dubious looks, which still isn't the weirdest thing.
It's Lance's response that is the most surprising, perhaps. He and Keith still butted heads, from what he could tell, but in the time that he's been gone Lance has adjusted. Mellowed out. He pulls Shiro aside a few times, partially to hug him, and partially to try and pry into whatever this thing is with Keith, equal parts concerned friend and something else that Shiro's not sure he wants to delve into. Whatever happened while he was gone isn't any of his business if it's...personal.
Keith, though. Keith's response is about where he expected but there's no denying that it's hard as hell to figure out where they go from here, how they navigate things. He's still the team leader and he's still dead set on not letting Keith get perceived special treatment which means coming down on him the same as he would Lance, or any of the others. The mistake, though, is thinking that it would be that easy. Nothing ever is and Keith's reaction, while strong, isn't shocking.
The suggestion to talk in person isn't one he actually expects to be taken up on, so he mostly keeps his device active while he does pull-ups. Voice to text is something that has, thankfully, gotten better when it comes to quality so he tends to do that rather than actually texting. A good thing, considering he's not sure he wouldn't accidentally clench his fist too hard and crush the phone out of sheer frustration.
Another ten pull ups and he sends another text, a simple, tell me if you want to talk, alright? but it goes unanswered so he focuses on doing something he can actually put his mind to - in this case, another set of reps. The knock to his door isn't surprising; Lance was going to stop by later, especially after how spectacularly that mission went to shit. Given Keith's temper it's probable that's going to be a point of conversation too. Lowering himself down, he lets himself hang, feet pointed to the ground, sweat itching as it slides down the small of his back. ]
Open.
[ He probably ought to put a shirt on, but it's not like he and the others haven't seen each other bare-chested before. Shiro doesn't glance over to the door just yet, starting another set of pull-ups while he waits for Lance to enter, not able to see who it is while he works on pulling himself up.
Wryly, ]
Lance, if we can talk about this later, I'd appreciate it. I'm trying to keep to one argument a day quota.
It stops him, puts a halt to the bile that builds up in his stomach and turns him into feeling confused and completely out of place for a moment. He looks behind him down the hall to see if he was still meandering down its corridor, but there's so sign of the lithe figure anywhere in easily noticeable pathing. He enters, brows locked downwards in an immovable position, and he sees... Shiro shirtless, working out.
Okay, this is probably where things get weird, because Keith can't stop himself from going back and forth from the idea that he had expected Lance in some way, and yet here he was, sweat trickling down his back as he fell victim to his own workout routine. The last thing that ever would have crossed his mind is jealousy, but he's not in the right state of mind, and for a moment that lasts the breadth of a hair, he has himself unbelievably second guessing himself. There's something so repugnant about hearing Shiro even say his name when he's shirtless, and he can't even begin to tell if that's because he's made love to Shiro before, or if it's something totally else, like a foreign instinct he has to lay claim- which wasn't fair since the both of them made promises to not make promises.
Which, of course, is completely hypocritical. He felt disgusted when he thought about it himself- how Lance and him had, at one point, used each other's company, and somehow, the vision of that sordid night fucks with his mindset. He was furious then, too. He had just tried to make amends with Shiro, and when he failed, he wound up in Lance's arms, giving himself in because he was hurt and so fucking confused, and when he found himself coming inside him, he felt even less of a human being for doing it. They hadn't really ever talked about it since then, which was completely fine with Keith. He was mortified that it had happened.
And expectedly, an even darker thought crosses his mind. What if Lance was trying to talk to Shiro about that night? What if he already had? In reality, he was sure that both Lance and Shiro had their share of partners. But for Keith, it had only been two in his entire life, which was one person more than he ever thought he would've been with.
Constantly he was reminded that it was another impulsive action that would come back to haunt him, and here he is, not even remotely close to thinking straight as he shakes off the thought- the image- the concept- of Lance and him being familiar on a level aside from that leader/friend role. It brought him back to his current state. The reality that he was still standing at the doorway, and Shiro was before him---
distracting
---in his own sort of way because it was hard not to see that body and think of all the things he's done to it and all the things he's done to his, and he clenches his fists into tight globes of skin and bone.]
It's me.
[There's no implication in his tone that accompanies the usual hum of if this is a bad time, I can come back- it's a simple announcement of his presence and nothing more.]
[ Another set and he's at goal which means he lets himself hang for a few more moments, breathing soft and slow and then drops to the ground with a soft thud, rolling his shoulders. The replacement arm he was gifted with glows a soft blue in the dim lighting and he flexes his hand a few times just to make sure he didn't grip the bar too hard but once he's done, he turns just as he hears someone very much not Lance speak.
Shit.
A quick glance reveals it is who he thought it was and he tries his best not to let the tension show in the way he holds himself, resigned to whatever conversation they're going to have. Truthfully, he hadn't thought that Keith would show up, not after he didn't bother answering the text but he supposes that it's just more proof that he doesn't know Keith as well as either of them thought, maybe.
His flesh and blood hand sweeps the towel up and he drags it over his face, across the nape of his neck and then turns to take his tshirt up next. It's tugged over his head, sending his hair every which way since it's soaked with sweat, but he doesn't either notice or seem to care if he does. Shiro's too focused on Keith, backlit by the soft glow of the doors.
The sight of Keith's hands clenched into fists isn't shocking; Shiro eyes him a moment and glances at his hands but doesn't comment just yet, knowing that's not the way to go. ]
Hi. We should talk, shouldn't we.
[ They should. Shiro knows that but he wants to give Keith an opportunity to back out if that's not the way he wants this to go down, if he wants to wait until he's less pissed. ]
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Some days it feels like there are way too many things being asked of him, and it grasps around his neck and squeezes, sucks the life out of him. He knows he's made a mistake- no, mistakes are things that easy fixable- a serious malfunction of judgment what with getting his bayard stolen from him in what had to be the cheapest display of a suckerpunch. Eternally caught in a circle of bad judgments, he really only has himself to blame for it as some junker ship cruises away somewhere farther off in the galaxy with a possession that was literally invaluable. Keith wasn't even looking for trouble; it always had its way of finding him even when his intentions weren't misaligned.
Then there's Shiro. He knew it was coming, but he didn't want it to- like the morning of a big mission that, since he couldn't freeze time in some magical charade, would come down on him eventually. Things had never really gone entirely smoothly between the two, and he half hoped that the other would put on the significant other mask rather than the black paladin helmet that he had just recently taken back from Keith barely half a year ago.
This is the recklessness that he had avoided so incredibly fucking well when he was in the leadership role and now that he sinks back into old habits, that he feels there's some security netting behind him, he had taken it for granted, and there's nothing- nothing- that could have been more a wake up call than this exact incident. Maybe he was better off, like the months before when Allura was still piloting and not commanding, and Shiro was becoming re-acclimated to donning the black. With a bum arm and nothing but the stars to look at, things had been so incredibly copacetic that it almost felt too surreal, too honeymoon.
Would that Keith control himself, he would have found himself calming by the thought of it, but no- the fits of anger had only been getting worse the older he got. And as time went on, some wounds opened anew, coupled with the frustration of immobility towards doing simple things like caring for himself. It had taken way too long until he felt feeling in his hand again, and how ironic it was that the first thing he'd been able to do was make a fist. Shiro even joked about it, and Keith laughed, because God- this kid was in love and knowing that it couldn't get worse, at least for now, was all that he could ask for.
The castle looked far more uninviting as he makes his way out of his room. If anything, the older male was right. They shouldn't be having personal arguments over something that can't convey tone and diction, but even through texts he could hear Shiro's voice in his head. He knew exactly what each syllable sounded like, the small bumps in intonation that would have been carried with each word, and Keith doesn't know what to think of anything at the moment. There's a storm of fire making its way down the hall, and as he catches Lance in passing, the blue paladin knows exactly what type of step and cadence that Keith's got about him, knows about the situation, and knows exactly where he's heading. It was like a homing missile, and if he was going to aim, he felt deadly enough to lock onto Shiro's heart and let loose if he had to.
He knocks, takes a breath, and tries to stop himself. There's a small voice in his head that tells him not to say or do anything stupid or that he'll regret, but he needs to get himself across. Shiro wasn't just the black paladin to Keith, and they both knew that, but more than anything, he wanted to trust his lover enough not to pull the leadership card on him when he did stupid things. It was a total, utter, fucking mess- just like everything that Keith does.]
no subject
To their credit, the other paladins have accepted it as easily as they do anything. Hunk wants to cook him everything under the sun and take a look at Black to make sure that she's running properly. It'd been a confusing request until Black pointed out that Red was able to make the sharp turns and short maneuvers as a smaller lion, but Black was a little bit larger. The concern is misplaced, she says, but it's sweet of him to worry. She agrees to let him take a look because they both understand that it's just Hunk trying to do whatever he can while things are weird. Pidge is doing the weird cat thing where they both want to be close to him but seemingly only close enough to give him dubious looks, which still isn't the weirdest thing.
It's Lance's response that is the most surprising, perhaps. He and Keith still butted heads, from what he could tell, but in the time that he's been gone Lance has adjusted. Mellowed out. He pulls Shiro aside a few times, partially to hug him, and partially to try and pry into whatever this thing is with Keith, equal parts concerned friend and something else that Shiro's not sure he wants to delve into. Whatever happened while he was gone isn't any of his business if it's...personal.
Keith, though. Keith's response is about where he expected but there's no denying that it's hard as hell to figure out where they go from here, how they navigate things. He's still the team leader and he's still dead set on not letting Keith get perceived special treatment which means coming down on him the same as he would Lance, or any of the others. The mistake, though, is thinking that it would be that easy. Nothing ever is and Keith's reaction, while strong, isn't shocking.
The suggestion to talk in person isn't one he actually expects to be taken up on, so he mostly keeps his device active while he does pull-ups. Voice to text is something that has, thankfully, gotten better when it comes to quality so he tends to do that rather than actually texting. A good thing, considering he's not sure he wouldn't accidentally clench his fist too hard and crush the phone out of sheer frustration.
Another ten pull ups and he sends another text, a simple, tell me if you want to talk, alright? but it goes unanswered so he focuses on doing something he can actually put his mind to - in this case, another set of reps. The knock to his door isn't surprising; Lance was going to stop by later, especially after how spectacularly that mission went to shit. Given Keith's temper it's probable that's going to be a point of conversation too. Lowering himself down, he lets himself hang, feet pointed to the ground, sweat itching as it slides down the small of his back. ]
Open.
[ He probably ought to put a shirt on, but it's not like he and the others haven't seen each other bare-chested before. Shiro doesn't glance over to the door just yet, starting another set of pull-ups while he waits for Lance to enter, not able to see who it is while he works on pulling himself up.
Wryly, ]
Lance, if we can talk about this later, I'd appreciate it. I'm trying to keep to one argument a day quota.
no subject
It stops him, puts a halt to the bile that builds up in his stomach and turns him into feeling confused and completely out of place for a moment. He looks behind him down the hall to see if he was still meandering down its corridor, but there's so sign of the lithe figure anywhere in easily noticeable pathing. He enters, brows locked downwards in an immovable position, and he sees... Shiro shirtless, working out.
Okay, this is probably where things get weird, because Keith can't stop himself from going back and forth from the idea that he had expected Lance in some way, and yet here he was, sweat trickling down his back as he fell victim to his own workout routine. The last thing that ever would have crossed his mind is jealousy, but he's not in the right state of mind, and for a moment that lasts the breadth of a hair, he has himself unbelievably second guessing himself. There's something so repugnant about hearing Shiro even say his name when he's shirtless, and he can't even begin to tell if that's because he's made love to Shiro before, or if it's something totally else, like a foreign instinct he has to lay claim- which wasn't fair since the both of them made promises to not make promises.
Which, of course, is completely hypocritical. He felt disgusted when he thought about it himself- how Lance and him had, at one point, used each other's company, and somehow, the vision of that sordid night fucks with his mindset. He was furious then, too. He had just tried to make amends with Shiro, and when he failed, he wound up in Lance's arms, giving himself in because he was hurt and so fucking confused, and when he found himself coming inside him, he felt even less of a human being for doing it. They hadn't really ever talked about it since then, which was completely fine with Keith. He was mortified that it had happened.
And expectedly, an even darker thought crosses his mind. What if Lance was trying to talk to Shiro about that night? What if he already had? In reality, he was sure that both Lance and Shiro had their share of partners. But for Keith, it had only been two in his entire life, which was one person more than he ever thought he would've been with.
Constantly he was reminded that it was another impulsive action that would come back to haunt him, and here he is, not even remotely close to thinking straight as he shakes off the thought- the image- the concept- of Lance and him being familiar on a level aside from that leader/friend role. It brought him back to his current state. The reality that he was still standing at the doorway, and Shiro was before him---
distracting
---in his own sort of way because it was hard not to see that body and think of all the things he's done to it and all the things he's done to his, and he clenches his fists into tight globes of skin and bone.]
It's me.
[There's no implication in his tone that accompanies the usual hum of if this is a bad time, I can come back- it's a simple announcement of his presence and nothing more.]
no subject
Shit.
A quick glance reveals it is who he thought it was and he tries his best not to let the tension show in the way he holds himself, resigned to whatever conversation they're going to have. Truthfully, he hadn't thought that Keith would show up, not after he didn't bother answering the text but he supposes that it's just more proof that he doesn't know Keith as well as either of them thought, maybe.
His flesh and blood hand sweeps the towel up and he drags it over his face, across the nape of his neck and then turns to take his tshirt up next. It's tugged over his head, sending his hair every which way since it's soaked with sweat, but he doesn't either notice or seem to care if he does. Shiro's too focused on Keith, backlit by the soft glow of the doors.
The sight of Keith's hands clenched into fists isn't shocking; Shiro eyes him a moment and glances at his hands but doesn't comment just yet, knowing that's not the way to go. ]
Hi. We should talk, shouldn't we.
[ They should. Shiro knows that but he wants to give Keith an opportunity to back out if that's not the way he wants this to go down, if he wants to wait until he's less pissed. ]