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Their chat happens over brunch, like all good things in life.
Keith demands that Shiro take them out to a little Bistro, the first date in a long line of apologies for giving him an ulcer. It's an open air concept that Hunk had recommended, cheerful patio tables with umbrellas that dance in the breeze ringing a central kitchen hut. It's adorable, even if questionably up to code. It also has the added advantage of being relatively private as they seat themselves in the far corner of the patio with Kosmo napping under the table.
The endless pitchers of brunch specialty drinks - of which Keith plans on imbibing many – are just a perk.
Once he'd accepted the whole 'My Husband Murders People' thing the rest of the situation was really just details needing to be hammered out to keep their story straight.
And maybe figure out how the hell Shiro had hidden it so long.
The man in question has been fidgety all morning, not quite sure what to expect from Keith's demands for explanation and the incongruous scenery. When the waitress comes over he can barely string two sentences together, managing only to ask for a water dish for Kosmo. He nearly chokes on his tongue when Keith orders the sangria with a smirk.
“My talented husband here makes sangria too, you know.” He beams at the waitress, laying on the charm more thickly than Shiro has ever seen. “Though it's always the red with him.”
The girl blushes under his attention but perks up at the opening.
“You should try our white! It's a peach base topped with champagne, it's really good I swear!”
The girl doesn't even look like she's old enough to drink, and Shiro has to plaster on a doting smile as Keith says how lovely that would be... and orders a glass of red for Shiro as well.
The girl nods like a bobblehead and scribbles down the order, making to step away before Keith flashes Shiro a sharp grin and stops her.
“Actually, make them both a pitcher.”
She salutes and spins on her heel, scurrying off to the bar as Keith tries valiantly to contain his snickering.
“Har. Har.” Shiro deadpans at him. “I said I was sorry for that...”
Pretty eyelashes bat at him over the table and lips quirk up in a smirk.
“But Baby, I thought you liked sangria?”
Shiro has a brief flash of wondering if prison might not be so bad.
“I'm never going to live that down am I?” He sighs, running a hand down his face.
“Nope.” Keith pops the 'p' and plants his chin in his hand, fluttering his eyelashes at his husband. “I still need details on this whole operation you've got going on anyway.”
Shiro grunts in response and leans forward to fish around in his pocket. He pulls out a crumpled piece of paper and smooths it flat before passing it over to Keith.
“Is this-” Keith's eyebrows raise to his hairline as he scans the list of names. He flicks his eyes up to Shiro's in question. “In glittery purple gel pen? Really?”
“Who would suspect glittery purple gel pen?” Shiro wiggles his eyebrows back at Keith with a smug look. “It's the perfect cover.”
Keith shakes his head and scans the list before flipping the paper over to the back where 'To-do' is written in loopy letters. So far there's only a few nicknames with questions marks next to them, notably 'grocery store hag'. Keith points to it with a flat look.
Shiro thinks for a moment before snapping his fingers and pointing at it.
“Oh! That's the lady who smacked your hand and took the last avocado the other week.”
Keith slaps a hand to his face.
“Shiro!” He hisses, eyeing the empty patio. “You can't just kill people for taking fruit.”
His husband pouts, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair.
“She slapped your hand, that counts as bodily injury.”
“Shiro...” Keith pinches the bridge of his nose, feeling like he's arguing with a murderous toddler. “No.”
“Fine.” Shiro huffs, uncrossing his arms. “But she's on thin fucking ice.”
Keith rolls his eyes and folds the list back up, satisfied that there won't be any impending murders to worry about. How Shiro lasted this long with his terrible clean-up efforts is a mystery.
The waitress drops their pitchers off, along with some treats and a bowl for Kosmo - giggling as he gives her feet a happy lick.
“Any food for you gentlemen today?”
Keith shoots Shiro a look and answers for them.
“I don't think we're really feeling meat today, how's your bruschetta?”
“Oh it's good! Totally vegetarian and it goes well with the antipasto if you're still hungry.”
Keith smiles at her and hands the menu back.
“Two of those sound perfect, thanks.”
She beams at him and gives Kosmo a scritch before trotting back to the kitchen.
Shiro grumbles from across the table.
“We're not vegetarian...”
Keith gives him a sickly sweet smile.
“Until I stop thinking about people meat we are.”
Shiro's pout is back in full force as his shoulders slump.
“You're acting like I ate them or something gross like that.” Keith raises an eyebrow at him and Shiro sputters, indignant. “I would never, that's disgusting!”
Keith takes a sip of his sangria and gives Kosmo a pointed look.
“That's different, he's a carnivore, he'd do it anyway if given the chance!” Kosmo looks up at him and lets out a disgruntled whine. Shiro backpedals. “I'm sorry buddy I didn't mean it like that. I'm sure you have a very discerning palette.”
Kosmo settles back down and Keith strokes his haunch with his foot, still judgmentally sipping his glass.
“What did you do with them anyway? And why keep all that gross shit around the house?”
He might still be salty about the teeth. Just a little.
“Well.” Shiro hedges, scooting in to lean across the table. “First I had to get the uh... finished product home.”
Keith smirks at the euphemism but nods for him to continue.
“Then I usually put them in the tub in the basement-”
“Ugh, Shiro!” Keith cuts him off, nose wrinkled. “I washed the bedding in there!”
“I bleach it every time!” Shiro grabs his glass and takes another sip. “Besides, it was only like once every few months.”
Keith rolls his eyes.
“Anyway!” He continues, shameless. “I couldn't figure out what to do with all the blood. We really need to replace the drainage down in the basement, it can't even handle a tub's worth without backing up.”
Suddenly this discussion doesn't seem best over food anymore. Keith purses his lips, squeamish but curious.
“So, you tried to put it in jugs... why?”
His husband's face heats across the table and he scratches at the back of his neck.
“Well, you know how in movies the really rich people always have those big wine cellars?” He smiles sheepishly. “I figured if anybody came to look they would just assume we really love wine.”
Keith opens and shuts his mouth twice, not quite able to express his feelings about that line of thinking. He gives up trying.
“Okay, fine.” He scrubs a hand down his face. “But why the lemons and orange?”
The smirk in response is far too smug for the question.
“Well Sweetheart, if you cleaned as much as I do you'd know that lemon juice is excellent for getting out stains and covering scents... the orange was just to throw you off the trail.”
The muscle in Keith's eye twitches violently.
“You did not just brag about cleaning when you've been dragging mud and blood and corpses through our home.”
“I-” Shiro starts, then thinks better of it and deflates. “Did not. You are correct.”
He flashes his most charming smile and Keith sighs before steepling his fingers and leveling Shiro with a serious look.
“More importantly – and you know I love you...” Shiro tenses, waiting for the blow as Keith sucks in a breath and continues. “We need to talk about diseases.”
Shiro shoulders immediately uncoil.
“Oh, sure!” His easy grin settles nerves Keith a bit. “What do you want to know?”
“Well, for starters, how do you know we didn't catch anything from the blood?”
Shiro shrugs at him, like it's obvious. “That one that splattered and got in your mouth was a nurse.”
Keith cocks an eyebrow at him and holds up two fingers.
“Firstly, that doesn't mean much.” He ticks off one and then wiggles the other in Shiro's face, hissing under his breath. “And secondly, why are you killing nurses?”
Shiro pouts. Again.
Keith wonders if his face is going to stay like that.
“They get tested at work for things like that, right? And the rest of the...batches didn't get in my mouth - I've never had such an awful time with clean-up before, it was so icky.” He shudders, looking a little green at the memory and Keith rolls his eyes so hard they nearly pop out of his head.
“You're icky.” He mutters into his glass as he takes another sip. “Why'd you, uh... sangria-fy her?”
Shiro scowls and looks off to the side.
“Remember that old battle axe that kept jabbing your vein over and over when you tried to give blood?” Keith gives him a look that just screams 'Really?' and he hastens to continue. “Well she threw it out after! Said it was tainted! She was just jabbing you to jab you.”
Keith drags a hand down his face again and takes another long drink before refilling his glass from the pitcher.
“Shiro, you can't just... add people to your list because they're jerks.”
Shiro sniffs and looks away.
“In my defense it was a literal stabbing.”
Keith unrolls his silverware and waves the fork menacingly.
“I'm going to literally stab you if we don't solidify some ground rules here.”
Kosmo looks up between them uneasily and shuffles further under the table as he munches on his treats.
Shiro's hands go up in surrender right as the waitress appears with the food, looking between the two with a bright smile.
“Already have the silverware out – you must be hungry!”
Keith shoots her a slightly manic grin and drops the fork to accept the plates.
“Thanks, we'll be fine from here on out.”
“Oh – okay, let me know if you need boxes!” She chirps and scurries off to the kitchen again as Shiro takes the opportunity to shovel his mouth full in an effort to escape another round of questioning.
His husband is less than impressed at the over the top noises of enjoyment, picking at his own food until Shiro swallows the mouthful.
“So.”
Shiro groans and drop his chin into his hand petulantly.
“Can we be done and happy again?”
Keith's severe look softens at that and he reaches across the table to hold Shiro's hand, caressing his wedding band with his thumb.
“Shiro, I'm happy. I love you. I will always love you – nothing will ever change that.” Shiro's hand squeezes his own, heart shining in his eyes, and he opens his mouth to reply with similarly sweet sentiments. Keith beats him to it. “-But...”
Shiro groans and continues his pouting.
“But!” Keith continues with a chuckle. “You really can't keep leaving such obvious evidence everywhere or we're both going to prison, and I'm too pretty for that.”
Grey eyes go stormy at the thought.
“You're right... I never even considered they would take you with me, and now that you know...” He darts a thoughtful look up at his husband's face. “But to be fair I wasn't that obvious, it's been five years with no questions.”
Keith drops his hand and crosses his arms, deadpan as he looks across the table.
“There were Teeth in my medicine cabinet.”
“The bottle makes the same sound when you shake it!”
He pinches the bridge of his nose, glaring over the top of his hand.
“And the kidney?”
Shiro has the nerve to look indignant.
“It had to be kept on ice, I donated that one!”
Keith's jaw drops.
“You donated a murder kidney?!” He throws his hands up in the air in exasperation. “What if they had DNA tested it and found out whose it was!”
Shiro gives him a smug look as he sips his glass and waggles his eyebrows.
“I put it in the abandoned baby box outside anonymously– And I typed the note that goes with it so my handwriting wouldn't be on it.”
Keith slaps a hand over his face again. At this point he's going to have bruises.
“And finger prints on the cooler?”
Shiro wiggles his prosthetic hand with a grin.
He sucks in a breath and counts to ten, reminding himself that – somehow! - this man has gotten away with murder for half a decade.
“Fine. But no more teeth.” Shiro looks mildly put-out, but Keith steamrolls over his protest before it can form. “No bottling, no feeding Kosmo”
Kosmo chuffs under the table at that, tail thumping for scritches and Keith reaches under to rub his ears, thinking for a moment before scowling and pointing at Shiro with his free hand.
“And no more skull décor!”
Shiro huffs and rolls his eyes, muttering under his breath as he scoops another mouthful of bruschetta.
“What was that?” Keith's eyes narrow dangerously.
Chewing hurriedly Shiro plasters on an innocent smile.
“Noffing, dear.”
“That's what I thought.”
With a sigh he links their hands again and lets the ambiance of the patio fill the silence as they eat. Silverware clinks against their bowls and Kosmo rustles underneath them, interested in the birds chirping in the potted trees nearby.
It's nice, relaxing even.
It warms Keith with a promise of normalcy that he hasn't had the past few tense months. Hopefully without the constant sense of impending doom hanging over his head they'll be able to have more moments like this, just out and about in the world together as a little family. Shiro's thumb strokes the the back of his hand as he takes a sip of sangria and Keith sighs into the touch, squeezing back as he pulls the hand to his mouth to press a kiss to Shiro's knuckles.
“I missed this.”
Shiro cocks his head with a confused smile.
“Dates? We can go on more.”
“Nah,” Keith shakes his head. “Not just dates, I mean being out with you and not worrying.”
“Ah.” Shiro ducks his head with a mournful look. “Sorry.”
Shrugging as he picks up his glass, Keith squeezes Shiro's hand again.
“Don't be, I get it.” He takes a sip and pauses, giving his husband a thoughtful look. “I can't say I wouldn't do the same for you if presented with the opportunity.”
“Aww, Sweetheart!” Shiro presses a hand to his chest and looks up at Keith with his big doe eyes. “That means a lot to me.”
Keith flushes and clears his throat, taking another sip from his glass before flitting a look back up to Shiro's earnest face.
“Well... if you've got room on that list I've got ideas for bonding activities.”
His eyes gleam brighter than their joined wedding bands on the table.
From the kitchen their waitress leans against the wall and sighs. The couple in her section shares a sweet kiss in the morning sun as their dog thumps his tail hard enough to shake the table, giving happy yips. It's something out of a romance novel as they part, smiling brightly at each other before coming together again.
The check can wait.
She sighs again.
“I need a love like that...”