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Keith checked his phone for the 7th time in the last five minutes. No change. No new notifications, just the last text message from Shiro. More specifically a random string of emojis from almost 30 minutes ago. Keith shoved the phone in his pocket and continued walking, determined not to get distracted again.
The party at Shiro’s frat house would have just gotten started by now, which meant it was primetime for Keith to show up. As with all his friend’s parties, he liked showing up early, spending time with Shiro and building a good buzz before the inevitable swarm of partygoers arrived.
But this time, things would be different. Because when he walked into the frat house he knew so well, he was met with a very excited, very tipsy Shiro.
“Keith! You made it!” Shiro stumbled towards him, laughing, and threw an arm around his shoulder in greeting.
“Uh, yeah. I did,” Keith answered, squinting up warily at his friend.
Matt came out of the kitchen with a drink in hand, a suspicious neon green, which he handed to Shiro before greeting Keith. He gave Matt a nod, shifting the mass of Shiro’s arm still draped over him. Shiro took a big gulp of the drink before making a strange noise, looking back at Matt with wide eyes.
“Matt! Matt make him a drink. Jack and coke right?” He asked in Keith’s general direction, not waiting for an answer before nodding to himself. “Yeah, I’d make it for you, but I can’t see.”
Matt shook his head with a laugh and made his way back to the kitchen. Keith stayed put, sweating under the weight of Shiro’s arm. Shiro continued to sip his drink, asking Keith about his day, but Keith couldn’t be sure Shiro could hear what he was saying.
“What’re you drinking?” He finally asked, peering at Shiro’s half finished solo cup.
“Uh, honestly, I don’t know. And it kinda tastes like shit. But… it’s strong. I need strong,” he answered gravely.
He held the cup for Keith to get a better look. Keith leaned forward and sniffed the contents, automatically recoiling. There was the unmistakable smell of tequila and vodka, and something sickeningly sweet.
“It’s like… a green AMF. Gross.”
Shiro laughed at Keith’s grimace and, almost as if to prove a point, tipped his cup back and chugged the contents. Shiro put the cup on the counter upside down and brought a hand down, crushing it like he would a beer can.
“Dude! I’ve told you to stop doing that. We’re trying to be eco friendly, remember?” Matt scolded as he re-entered the room.
He held out a solo cup to Keith, shaking his head in exasperation. Keith took the drink with a small nod, sipping on the simple jack and coke. Alright, normal levels of strong. Good. Before Matt could leave, Keith tugged his shirt, leaning in close to not be overheard.
“How much has he had to drink?”
Matt shrugged. “Beats me, I wasn’t around. Some say five shots and a few mixed drinks, others say more. Your guess is as good as mine.”
Keith let him go with a short hum. The party had barely started. Shiro usually wasn’t this drunk until at least halfway through the night. He must’ve been stressed or had something on his mind. Maybe it had something to do with how weird he’d been acting all week. Actually, now would be a good chance to find out what's been on Shiro’s mind; Shiro, at least, was an honest drunk. Before he could open his mouth to ask a question, music suddenly filled the house, and Shiro perked up in delight.
“Keith! Dance with me!”
Shiro didn’t wait for an answer, using his strength to drag Keith over to the dance floor. Keith didn’t mind dancing, but he usually prefered to be a bit more buzzed before hitting the floor. Although, he felt like Shiro was drunk enough for the both of them. Keith watched with amusement as Shiro short of flailed around the dance floor, still somehow mysteriously on beat. The music was good, too. Lance had probably set up his playlist for the night.
The next song came on and Shiro pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt. Keith’s heart skipped a beat. He’d never done that before. Shiro’s breath was warm on his forehead, and not for the first time, he was grateful for their height difference. Shiro would have to duck down to see the dumbstruck look on Keith’s face.
Emboldened by the strong beat and the liquor running through Shiro’s veins, Keith nudged himself that much closer, hands tentatively resting on Shiro’s hips. If anyone asked why they were so close, Keith could say it was to stop Shiro from flailing and hitting someone with his massive biceps. Yeah, that was a good excuse.
One song turned into two and with each new beat, Keith found himself pressed closer to Shiro’s front. He vaguely registered that it was because more people had crowded into the dance area. As much as he would enjoy pressing his face into Shiro’s chest in other occasions, this wasn’t one of them, and with a sudden grace he managed to spin around so they were pressed back-to-front.
Keith almost died when Shiro immediately wrapped his hands around his waist.
A new song came on and Keith felt Shiro press even closer. There was warm breath on his neck, then his ear. His heart felt like it would leap out his chest at any moment. But then he registered what Shiro was saying. Or rather, what he was singing.
“Are you serenading me with Cardi B?” Keith asked, laughing as he pulled away an inch.
“Depends,” Shiro hummed, pulling him back in, “Is it working?”
The correct answer was yes. Yes, it was working, and Keith wasn’t drunk enough to accept the ridiculousness of it all. So he pulled away again, fully this time, and dragged Shiro away from the dancing mass. Keith turned around and noticed Shiro’s pout. It did weird things to his stomach. He pulled Shiro’s arm a little harder and urged him with an easy smile.
“Come on, I need another drink.”
ΣΑΨ
Not only did Keith mix himself a wonderful jack-and-some-coke, but when Shiro insisted on teaming up to play beer pong, Keith was careful to count how many drinks they each had. As the night wore on, Shiro’s earlier binge drinking caught up to him. His words were slurred and his reflexes slowed. There was a permanent flush to his skin and his eyes were always too bright when he looked at Keith.
Therefore, Keith took it upon himself to drink 90% of the beer during their many, many rounds.
But even if Keith could save Shiro from alcohol poisoning during beer pong, he was helpless when faced with the keg stand. Had Keith known that the keg stand competition was being held in the yard, maybe he would’ve tried to redirect Shiro’s movements.
But the cool night air had felt so good on his overheated skin. It brought a false sense of clarity to his booze addled mind. Shiro dragged him across the lawn, his hand a warm pressure on Keith’s wrist. A choral crescendo of “chug, chug, chug!” greeted them as they approached the crowd. Then the crowd caught sight of them, and the chorus turned into an anthem of “Shiro! Shiro! Shiro!”
Keith shook his head fondly as Shiro dashed forward, basking in the crowd’s praise. Keith knew he was drunk when he only felt mildly concerned as Shiro stepped up to the plate, ready to defend his record.
Shiro being Shiro waved his arms as the crowd went wild as he walked up to the keg. Shiro being drunk Shiro took off his shirt and threw it at Keith with a wink before starting. It was impossible to control the red flush covering his face, so Keith didn’t even try. Shiro was too drunk to notice anyways-- holy shit, Shiro was drunk, and Keith just let him compete in a keg stand.
He watched with growing dread as Shiro stretched clumsily before flipping into a perfect handstand. He was one of the few competitors that could start without anyone holding his legs up. Dread was momentarily replaced with heat as Keith admired his friend’s “good form.” Yeah, he was just appreciating the way Shiro kept his body in such perfect position, even while drunk off his ass. He definitely wasn’t letting his eyes drink in the sight of Shiro’s straining muscles, the movement of his abs as he chugged, the veins running along his biceps.
Keith shook his head to clear his thoughts, but all it accomplished was making him dizzy. He steadied himself quickly, blinking as the ringing in his ears subsided. The crowd was chanting louder and louder the longer Shiro went. How long had it been? Longer than the previous opponent, that was for sure. Keith watched as Shiro’s face, neck and chest turned a bright pink, from the alcohol and from being upside down so long.
It must’ve been over a minute before Shiro started to show signs of strain. His eyes were pinched shut, his arms trembled. Beer was starting to trickle from his lips, mixing with sweat as it rolled towards his hairline. Keith really shouldn’t be finding that hot, but well, he was, sue him.
If Keith remembered right, his record stood undefeated at 119 seconds, just under two minutes. Anyone else who attempted to reach that number usually ended up vomiting soon after. Shiro’s prowess at the keg stand was both impressive and mildly disturbing. That much beer could not be good for you.
At that point, the referee must’ve noticed some sign from Shiro, because then he was calling for people to come up and help hold his legs. Keith made sure he was the only one coming forward, sending sharp looks at anyone else who showed interest. Keith wasn’t a jealous person, but he had a mean streak when there was just the right amount of liquor in his system.
He gripped Shiro’s ankles, practiced by now in how to best support his friend’s weight, and listened as the referee counted the seconds. Just as the dude called out 121, Shiro spluttered and let his weight drop, relying on Keith to break his fall. The crowd went absolutely apeshit. He’d done it again, setting the bar even higher. Keith shook his head with a fond smile as he helped Shiro to his feet.
Shiro held his arms up in victory as the crowd cheered, wavering slightly in place. It wasn’t until Keith handed him his shirt back and walked him a fair distance away that Shiro let himself fall.
“Woah! You okay man?” Keith asked, slightly worried as he caught Shiro’s arm and lowered him gently onto the grass.
Shiro just groaned in response, laying on his back with eyes shut, breathing harshly through his nose. Keith really hoped he wasn’t about to puke. But no, Shiro didn’t throw up. He opened his eyes, staring straight up at Keith, crouched next to him on the grass. Shiro’s eyes were wide with some sort of wonder, before his lips quirked into a goofy smile.
“Hey- hey Keith. Are you a thief?”
Keith frowned. “What? No? Shiro, are you--”
But he couldn’t finish his phrase, because Shiro reached up and put a finger to his lips, the metal cold on his flushed skin.
“Because… because someone stole all the stars and put them in your eyes.”
Shiro proceeded to smile something blinding, leaving Keith in a daze. What had-- did he just-- he couldn’t just--
“You can’t just say stuff like that! What the fuck Shiro,” Keith hissed with emotion, turning around so his friend couldn’t see how absolutely wrecked he was.
He couldn’t be imagining the adoration in Shiro’s eyes, could he? He couldn’t be completely delusional about the sincerity with which that line was delivered, right? Right? He felt undone, frazzled at the seams, all from a simple phrase.
From a stupid pick up line no less.
“No wait! Keith I’m sorry, don’t be mad!”
Shiro sat up quickly before Keith could storm away, devastation clear on his face. Shiro swayed in place and Keith groaned, sitting back down to steady him. He couldn’t be mad when the guy was so fucking wasted. Keith could be mad tomorrow, after leaving Shiro in bed with some water and pain pills; then he’d stew in his frustration.
“Come on, let’s get you to bed. You’ve had enough for one night.”
ΣΑΨ
Getting Shiro into the house and up the stairs was a journey in its own right. But somehow, even while drunk himself, Keith managed it. Shiro groaned when his back hit the bed. Keith chuckled; Shiro’s whole head was probably spinning. He would regret it so much in the morning. Although he didn’t have to, Keith made a quick run to the bathroom and came back with a damp cloth.
When Keith walked back in the room, Shiro had rolled over face down, all the way on the other side of the bed. He was mumbling incoherently into his pillow. Keith sighed. He climbed onto the bed and gently urged Shiro to roll back over. After a bit of coaxing, he rolled over, resting his head in Keith’s lap with a happy sigh. Keith picked up the damp cloth and got to work.
Shiro’s face and chest was sticky with stale beer. Honestly, it was kinda gross, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t find it strangely endearing. Keith gently dabbed at Shiro’s face, taking time to free him of sweat and beer. He traced over his facial scar absentmindedly, appreciating the view of Shiro with his eyes closed peacefully. When he moved down to Shiro’s chest and neck, his eyes popped open, staring up at Keith with that same wonderstruck expression from earlier.
Keith held his breath.
“I… Keith--” Shiro struggled with his words for a moment before reaching into his pant’s pocket. “This is for you.”
Keith blinked and grabbed the paper that was shoved in his face. It was folded and kinda sweaty, but judging by the look in Shiro’s eye, it was important.
“Okay, thanks,” he replied, unsure what else to say.
And with that, Shiro gave him another dopey smile, before promptly passing out. Keith huffed but smiled as he finished cleaning up his friend. Then, he set Shiro’s head down on a pillow and let him sleep. Keith debated leaving, but ultimately decided to seat himself on the edge of the bed and unfold the paper Shiro had given him.
Really, it could’ve been anything. It could’ve been answers to their upcoming theoretical physics test, or maybe some sort of paper Keith had dropped that he was returning. Hell, it could’ve been a meme crudely drawn and colored; it wouldn’t have been the first time he received something like that. But Keith definitely didn’t expect to unfold the paper and discover a delicately written letter.
Not just any letter. A love letter.
Keith felt his face heat up as he read through the page. Thankfully, there was no one else in the room to witness his meltdown. As he poured over every sappy line about friendship turning into love, about familiarity and comfort evolving into warmth and passion, Keith swore he could feel the sincerity reach out from the paper and strangle his heart. Holy shit, had Shiro really written this? It was the closing line that really sold him on the authenticity.
And so, Keith, the plan tonight is to give you this letter and confess. Because there’s no way I won’t fuck up without writing all this down first. Also, I’m getting sweaty and nervous, so I might take a dangerous amount of shots before you even get here. Hopefully I’ll still be sober enough to give this to you tho, since I really wanted to be your Valentine tomorrow.
Yeah, okay, peace and love bro. Full homo. Love (hopefully?) Shiro.
Keith stared at the sleeping form of his friend (maybe boyfriend? Woah…) and felt like screaming. He felt like waking him up and making him fucking explain himself. But that wouldn’t solve anything, because Shiro would still be drunk, and Keith would still have to stew in his feelings all night. But he’d be damned if this wasn’t the first thing he talked about with Shiro in the morning.
Mind made, he walked over to Shiro’s dresser and pulled out some sweats and a t-shirt. He quickly changed and had half a mind to climb into Shiro’s bed for the night. But first, he turned Shiro on his side and placed a small trash can by the bedside. Just in case Shiro got a midnight case of nausea. Satisfied, Keith wiggled into the gap between Shiro and the wall and closed his eyes.
Come morning light, everything would be different. Keith couldn’t wait.