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Shiro had had enough. He was tired, he was worn out, and he was more than ready to be unconscious as soon as possible. Whether that unconsciousness be a result of falling asleep the second his head hit the pillow, or something else entirely, like getting hit by a bus, Shiro wasn’t really opposed to either. It was 3:00 in the morning and Shiro had no business being awake.
Dragging himself through the halls of the quiet dorm, Shiro sighed heavily. He could feel his eyelids drooping and his focus wavering the longer it took for him to get to the room. Keith didn’t have this problem. Whenever Shiro had to work really late into the night, he would always return to their shared room to find that his brother was fast asleep in the top bunk and definitely not dead on his feet like Shiro. Every time, Shiro felt a twinge of irritated jealousy over Keith’s luxury of sleep. Shiro just wanted a nap. A dirt nap.
Finally, Shiro made it to the door of his room. He stared blearily at the 224 plated to the door while he fumbled around in his pocket for the keys. They clinked together as he pulled them from his coat and jammed them into the lock. Sometimes the stupid thing would jam, but by all the graces of the universe, it didn’t this time, and Shiro had never been so grateful of anything. He turned the knob and pushed the door in, stepping into the darkened room.
Now, Shiro had been fully and completely expecting to find Keith fast asleep, maybe even snoring a little bit just to spite Shiro, but he wasn’t doing that, not this time. If Shiro wasn’t awake before, he certainly was now that he could see Keith.
With his legs wrapped around the bar of the top bunk and the rest of his body dangling down over the edge, Keith glared at a lighter in his hands, waving the flame back and forth sporadically. Between the light from the beside lamp and the lighter in Keith’s hand, Shiro could see a suspiciously-coloured bottle on the floor, a third empty.
“What… are you doing…?” Shiro asked slowly, wandering into the room and gently closing the door behind him.
Keith startled a bit, nearly toppling off the bed entirely. He quickly stared at Shiro, an angry glint to his eyes as though his brother talking was the most offensive thing that had ever been brought upon him. His hair was hanging down, nearly getting caught in the flame as he moved around to better see Shiro.
“Shiro!” Keith all but hissed. Shiro felt the need to go sleep in the hallway and pretend he had never walked in on this in the first place. “How do I launch my rap album?” he asked.
Shiro’s eyes widened. “What…?” he whispered out, sure he had heard that wrong. It was then that Shiro noticed the stench of alcohol in the air.
“It’s called, Noodle Daddy. First track; Sunny D!” Keith frantically waved his lighter at Shiro, who was in the process of clamping a hand over his mouth to stop the onslaught of laughter he could feel rising up his throat. “Got a name and everything, Shiro, call me Binnie Kei from now on!”
And at that, Shiro couldn’t hold it in anymore, he guffawed so violently that he was sure he would throw up.
“Shiro, it’s not funny! I gotta… I gotta… y’know,” Keith stuttered a bit before dropping the lighter to the floor and rolling himself up. He tumbled onto his bed. Then, while dazedly facing the wall with his back to Shiro, he started attempting to beatbox. It really wasn’t beatboxing, it was more of a spitting noise followed by the sound of someone imitating an explosion, but Keith was having quite a time.
Shiro wheezed, dropping into a crouch and balancing himself against the floor. His stomach hurt from the sudden laughter, but he couldn’t make himself stop. “Keith…” he heaved, “you can’t even rap…” That was really the least of his worries, but his priorities were a little skewed.
Keith whipped around, nearly falling over the edge again, and glared at Shiro, which had Shiro cackling all over again because Keith’s hair looked absolutely ridiculous from the amount of time he had spent upside down. “Fuck off, Shiro.” Then, without any flow or sense whatsoever, Keith began rapping with an angry furrow to his brow, “I drive a gold watch with my Lexus! I was born down in Texas! Don’t step to me, don’t mess with me! Cause I’m… I…” he stopped, looking confused. He stared over at the wall. “Shiro, what rhymes with Texas?” he mumbled, his words slurring more noticeably.
But unfortunately, Shiro wasn’t paying attention, he was busying slamming his hand into the carpet, trying his damn hardest to regain his breath.
“Ambidextrous!” Keith shouted suddenly. “Fuck, that’s a chart topper…” he whispered to himself.
Shiro heaved, pulling himself up enough to stumble over to the bottle on the floor. He picked it up, inspecting it under the light of the bedside lamp. It was difficult through the dark, as well as through the tears streaming down his face, but he came to realize that the bottle didn’t have a label at all.
“Where did you get this?” he asked incredulously.
“I got it from Orvar down the hall,” Keith answered, tilting his head back as though he was discovering how to move his neck for the first time.
Shiro sighed, stifling his laughter as he sniffed it. And wow, that was strong. “What is it?” He was starting to get a little bit concerned. His – what Keith would call – dad mode was kicking in.
Keith hiccupped a laugh, “The good stuff.” He continued to laugh as though that was the funniest thing he had ever said.
“Keith, you have to be up early for the bus tomorrow,” Shiro reminded, hunting around for the lid of the bottle. He was tempted to just pour the rest out the window.
“You know when you get something stuck in your shoe, so you take your shoe off and shake it out, but when you put your shoe back on, it’s still there?” Keith incoherently questioned.
Shiro squinted in confusion, pausing his hunt for the lid to stare up at Keith. “Yeah?”
“That’s you. You’re the thing in the shoe,” he cackled some more then fell back on his bed.
Shiro grumbled, unimpressed, deciding that the lid wasn’t needed if it just ended up being dumped down the sink. He headed into the bathroom and upturned the bottle, letting the contents flow out and down the drain. It glugged as it emptied, and Shiro couldn’t help but wonder how much Keith spent on the alcohol.
When he wandered back into their shared room, Keith had both his legs and one arm over the edge of railing and while the rest of his body lay in the bed. “Shiro, wanna hear a joke?”
“Do you even know any jokes?” Shiro countered, mentally patting himself on the back for his own joke.
Keith ignored him, “Okay, okay. Wha–” he paused to breathe out a heavy breath. “Two satellites decided to get married, and the reception wasn't much…” he paused. “Oh, fuck, I fucked that up,” Keith grumbled. “Okay, two satellites to get, to getted, to getted!” Keith wheezed out, really trying his best on the joke.
“Keith…” Shiro sighed, smiling as Keith continued to fuck up his joke.
“Two satellites decided to get married, and… the wedding… part… where they… Why–? Why am I having so much trouble with this one stupid joke?” Keith whined. His arms and legs flailed around from their place dangling over the bed. “Two satellites decided to get married, and the ceremony wasn't- wasn't…” There was another long pause.
Shiro snorted, “Keith, please go to sleep.”
“I'll get it next time. I've got this,” Keith muttered, psyching himself up and completely ignoring Shiro. “Two satellites decided to get married, and the ceremony wasn't wha– wasn't wha– Hoo ha! Ho! Oh ho!”
Shiro couldn’t even tell what was happening at the end of that try but he ran a hand down his face, feeling tears begin to flow again.
“TWO SATELLITES!” Keith screamed, sitting up as though that would help him think. Then he fell back on the bed laughing, “Fuck this joke! I’m going to sleep forever!”
Shiro was shaking with laughter, tears rolling down his cheeks as he watched Keith roll his body back into the bed properly. Luckily, his brother didn’t say anything else for the rest of the night, which Shiro was thankful for because he wasn’t sure how much more of Binnie Kei he could handle. This wasn’t something that Keith was going to be able to live down though, that was for sure.
◊ ◊ ◊
Keith felt like shit. That was all there was to it. As if waking up at the ass crack of dawn with the worst hangover of his life wasn’t bad enough, he had the added bonus of his brother harassing him about what his drunk self had done, which was some extremely embarrassing stuff that he could have lived just fine never knowing about. Shiro wasn’t as kind a guy as everyone made him out to be, in fact, Keith often wondered if his life goal was to make a list of every stupid thing Keith had done in his life. Shiro was very good at that.
The pounding of his head had thankfully receded thanks to the painkillers he had taken that morning, but he could still feel the dull throbbing at the back of his head. He stood out in the wind, bundled up in his jacket with a sour look on his face as he waited for the bus to arrive. His hair was getting pushed into his face every seven seconds and Keith had had it up to his neck with the wind, he would have punched the wind if it would do anything. Keith was willing to punch a lot of things right about now if it meant that anything would go his way for once.
And thankfully, he didn’t have to punch anything for something to go right, because at that moment, the bus pulled up to the curb. Keith breathed a sigh of relief as the doors opened and he stepped inside. It was much warmer on the bus and there was no wind to fight, which Keith was eternally thankful for. He reached into his pants pocket, fishing around for his bus pass.
He didn’t pull out his bus pass. He pulled out a raw penne noodle. Something within Keith just shut down. He stared at the noodle. The bus driver stared at the noodle. Then she stared at Keith. Keith just blinked down at the noodle. Some part of his memory from the night before rushed back to him, bits and pieces of it, but nothing concrete. “Noodle Daddy,” he whispered, recalling Shiro’s dramatic retelling of the previous night. Keith nodded at the noodle as he clenched it in his hand.
Keith glanced up to the bus driver, then, without saying a word, he wandered into the bus as though he were lost in a noodley daze. He sat down on the closest seat and stared out the window. Keith honestly couldn’t even fucking remember where this bus ride led, or why he was going there. He should probably have called Shiro and asked him that. He could feel the bus driver’s eyes on him, but he didn’t turn to meet her, just continued to stare out the window.
Eventually, the bus rolled away from the stop. Keith realized that he was still holding the noodle in his hand. He glared at it before shoving it into his pocket and pulling out his phone instead.
I just fucking used a piece of pasta as a bus pass
This is your fault
Shiro
That’s hilarious!
How is this my fault?
Noodle daddy.
Shiro
That is not my fault but I’ve been laughing about it all day so thank you :)
I’m going back to the orphanage
Shiro
Aw don’t be like that Binnie Kei :(
blokedt
Keith didn’t bother waiting for a response, he just locked his phone and angrily glared out the window, his headache pulsing at the back of his head, right next to the thought that he should probably never get drunk again. Nor should he steal noodles from places that shouldn’t even have noodles, like classroom windowsills. What was a noodle doing there? What was Keith doing there? What was Keith doing on this bus? Keith was so confused. Shiro wasn’t going to let him live any of this down, that was for sure.