[ well, shit. that’s damn defeating. how many times now has shiro consciously kept himself from sighing aloud? another urge comes and goes, the line of his shoulders drooping in his own beat of disappointment as he watches keith make himself smaller, curled up and bundled up on his side. there is one positive in all of this, he supposes: keith isn’t looking at him. taking this as the opportunity that it is to undress with minimal scrutiny, shiro shuffles one, two paces further from the fireplace and finally gets to work on his layers.
with keith’s health taking center stage for the past hour or so, shiro has had little attention for the state of his attire. between carrying a lake soaked keith and the flecks of snow that has now melted in the heat of the cabin, he’s just as keith said he was. wet. zippers, buttons, ties… shiro goes through everything and anything, the entire process taking a few minutes. throughout, shiro doesn’t check, not even once, to see if keith has dragged his gaze from the fire to steal a peek. it doesn’t matter anyway, because soon, shiro is standing there, bare of everything except a pair of boxers that cling to his hips.
with slightly numb toes, shiro nudges his discarded pants further into the makeshift pile of clothing there on the floor. he really ought to hang everything up or at the very least, drape them off the back of some chairs. exhaustion makes him lazy and laziness makes him subdued. perhaps the fire’s heat will reach his pile and dry them out that way.
unconcerned at present, shiro draws a breath and then peels off the last of his clothing. with it added to the pile, shiro then turns back to the curled lump on the couch, hands anxiously fidgeting at his sides as he stamps down the urge to use them as shields to the many, many unsightly parts of his body. mustering a smile is difficult, but doable as he leans down to tug at the bottom corner of keith’s blanket. ]
no subject
with keith’s health taking center stage for the past hour or so, shiro has had little attention for the state of his attire. between carrying a lake soaked keith and the flecks of snow that has now melted in the heat of the cabin, he’s just as keith said he was. wet. zippers, buttons, ties… shiro goes through everything and anything, the entire process taking a few minutes. throughout, shiro doesn’t check, not even once, to see if keith has dragged his gaze from the fire to steal a peek. it doesn’t matter anyway, because soon, shiro is standing there, bare of everything except a pair of boxers that cling to his hips.
with slightly numb toes, shiro nudges his discarded pants further into the makeshift pile of clothing there on the floor. he really ought to hang everything up or at the very least, drape them off the back of some chairs. exhaustion makes him lazy and laziness makes him subdued. perhaps the fire’s heat will reach his pile and dry them out that way.
unconcerned at present, shiro draws a breath and then peels off the last of his clothing. with it added to the pile, shiro then turns back to the curled lump on the couch, hands anxiously fidgeting at his sides as he stamps down the urge to use them as shields to the many, many unsightly parts of his body. mustering a smile is difficult, but doable as he leans down to tug at the bottom corner of keith’s blanket. ]
Still got room in there for me?