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“Is that... a fern?”
Keith looks up from where he's stringing a set of old rainbow incandescent bulbs on whatever the green monstrosity next to his porch is.
“Yeap.”
“And you're... decorating it?”
“Pft, naw, Shiro,” Keith snorts and goes back to winding the lights around with a shake of his head, “I'm just lightin' up the path for your pretty city-slicker shoes.”
Shiro pouts at him. He knows that Keith doesn't necessarily mean to be so... Keith about it. Probably. He's tried awfully hard to lose the stuffy reputation since he got here, but it's hard.
They tried to make him stuff a boar for Thanksgiving... but he was not going to go elbow deep in a boar's asshole for anyone... not even Keith.
Of course, Keith had said Regris was just fucking with him, but still.
He's trying.
“You know, there was a big snake in that bush the other day,” Shiro tries, still not quite sure if Keith is actually decorating it or not.
“Didn't bite you now, did it?” Keith turns enough to cock an eyebrow at him, and Shiro feels his mouth twist even deeper into the realm of a pout.
“Well, no... but it was creepy.”
“So are gingerbread men,” Keith grunts as he steps back to survey his handiwork, apparently pleased with the bush that's probably a fire hazard. “First step toward cannibalism if you ask me.”
Well, Shiro hadn't, but he makes a mental note not to make them for Keith all the same if he has such strong feelings about the topic. He certainly doesn't want to prematurely ruin this...maybe friendship thing... whatever it is that they may or may not have going on, maybe.
“Oh, uh... okay. Well...” He coughs, shuffles his feet a few times and notes how the lights do shine on his shoes. He should probably get different shoes if he wants anyone here to take him seriously, but these ones are comfortable... “Sure.”
Keith looks at him, face inscrutable as he presses his lips together and shakes his head. “You wanna help with the inside?”
“Sure!”
He's been inside Keith's house a handful of times since he's moved down to the tiny town in the Everglades to work with Kolivan's office. Usually the giant scary mutt at the door keeps him waiting in the car or the entryway while Keith ducks in for this or that... really, with the exception of the one time he needed a few stitches, Keith's domain has remained as much of an enigma as the man himself.
Shiro just hopes that's not a sign of the way things will always be.
The resident mutt appears to be dreaming on the floor of the entryway when Shiro follows Keith inside, all four paws twitching as he snorts and chases bunnies. Clearly a top notch guard dog.
“Aww, what a big ol' cutie,” Shiro coos, melting as Kosmo rolls and snorts without waking himself, “I hope he's having good dreams.”
Keith cocks his head at Shiro, unreadable as ever, then nods and beckons him into the kitchen where he kicks out two beat up chairs and pulls down a bottle of scotch.
“Oh, uh... are we decorating with that?” Shiro asks him, unwilling to assume anything at this point.
Keith squints at him and plops the bottle down, shaking his head as he turns to grab two highball glasses. “Nope.”
“Oh.”
Keith pours him two fingers and pushes the glass across the table before pouring his own and lifting it in a toast. “Cheers, lawman.”
Shiro beams at him and takes a gulp-
-and coughs it right back up.
He's never had scotch that burned so badly before, like drinking flaming tar.
“Christ, what kind of scotch is this?”
Keith grins at him over the rim of his own glass before downing the whole thing without a flinch. “Moonshine... made it myself.”
“Oh, ah-” Shiro sputters, eyes watering profusely as he lifts the glass again. “It's delicious.”
“Aw hell,” Keith busts out laughing, a rare thing that stops Shiro in his tracks. He's gorgeous, of course, but he looks so happy... “You don't have to drink that, I can get you something fruitier if you'd like.”
“You mean like turpentine?” Shiro teases, opting to take another burning sip just to prove that he can – and ignoring the feeling of hair sprouting on his chest as it burns through him.
“Aww, he's got jokes,” Keith hoots, leaning forward on his elbow to pin Shiro with those pretty violet eyes. “And here I thought you'd be stiff forever.”
“Only around pretty boys.” It's a slip that Shiro plans to blame on the wood-grain alcohol that's probably going to blind him later, but he can't find himself regretting it as Keith's smile grows by a couple molars. He can only hope it looks so predatory for a good reason...
“Oh is that so?” Keith circles the rim of his glass with his fingertips, looking Shiro up and down as if for the first time. “Not many people willing to admit that around here, you know.”
Shiro shrugs, smile fading at the reminder that he's not exactly in Miami anymore.
“Well, you know,” he forces out brightly, despite his rising discomfort, “was just a joke.” He glances around the kitchen, taking in the faded linoleum until he spies a weathered clock on the wall. “Ah, it's getting pretty late actually, I should probably take off and go feed Black-”
Keith blinks at him again, all slow like the gators that live in the pond behind his new apartment. “Where's the fire, Mr. Fed?”
Shiro's smile is brittle as he rises to his feet and tucks the chair back under the table with a tilt of his head. “Don't want to overstay my welcome.”
Keith catches his wrist before he can make it two steps to the door.
“Hey now,” he starts, looking unsure for the first time since Shiro has known him, “I didn't mean anything by it-”
“It's fine,” Shiro clips, tugging his wrist back gently, “I get it, it makes people uncomfortable down here, I'm sorry I brought it up and I'll go.”
“No, wait,” Keith huffs, visibly frustrated but determined as he steps into Shiro's space. “I meant, uh... me too, you know? You're a handsome guy yourself.” Then he hunches in on himself a little, working the toe of his boot into the scuffed floor without looking at Shiro. “But you're probably used to uh... nicer digs than this, I reckon.”
“I thought you kinda maybe didn't like me very much,” Shiro admits, scrubbing at the back of his head with his hand, “because I'm from the city, and I'm bad at this whole... everything you like, I guess. Except my job.”
Keith's mouth pinches tight to the side as he looks up at Shiro. “Well I don't want to be too friendly with someone who's leaving in a few weeks, to be honest with you.”
Shiro blinks down at him, worried for an entirely new reason now. “Is... is Kolivan going to fire me?”
He earns himself a sharp glance from Keith, like he's lost his mind right there in the kitchen, and maybe he has.
“Naw, but the whole town knows that place rents month to month. People don't go there to stay.”
“It has a washer and dryer and allows cats,” Shiro explains, unsure why it matters in the first place, “is it like... a drug den or something?”
Keith finally cracks a smile again. “I dunno Fed, you tell me.”
Shiro pouts at him again, feeling perpetually off his game around this man. “I quit you know... you don't have to call me that.”
“Oh, hell.” Keith blows out a gusty sigh and drops back down into the creaky kitchen chair, snagging another glass of moonshine for himself. “I'm shit at this... I was tryna' flirt with you.”
“But you hate feds!” Shiro drags his chair back out with an indignant grunt, refusing to believe that anyone out of second grade would consider that flirting. “You talked about feeding me to the gators!”
Keith wrinkles his nose but remains mulish. “I said they think you look like a snack... I hear the kids say that all the time.”
“But they could literally eat me.”
“And I don't hate you,” Keith rolls on, like Shiro's point isn't entirely valid, “you're not bad for a suit... you're just... you know...”
“No, I don't know,” Shiro grunts, pouring himself another glass and downing it with a shudder, “enlighten me.”
A slow smile spreads across Keith's face as he watches Shiro slam the glass down with a huff.
“You're alright... Shiro.”
“Thank you,” Shiro replies primly, ignoring the four alarm fire going off in his brain at how sweet his name sounds in that honey-soaked drawl, “I think you're alright too, Keith... even if you're about as easy to read as gator.”
“Gets the pretty ones in close so I can sink my teeth into 'em.” Keith winks, actually winks, and Shiro is pretty sure he's joking. “Speaking of... you still wanna help me decorate?”
“Oh, uh...” Shiro glances down at his glass, then at the clock. He probably shouldn't be driving after drinking whatever that was. “Sure... like a palm tree? Or another bush?”
Keith cocks an eyebrow at him like he's gone crazy – again – and Shiro can't help but huff. It's not like it would be too far-fetched after just watching the man put lights on a fern.
“I meant the real tree, but you can help me decorate the bedroom later too if you'd like.” Shiro tells himself it's a joke as Keith leads him into the living room and points at a bare but beautifully fluffy evergreen taking up a corner of his small space. There's a splatter of boxes surrounding it, some filled with ornaments and garland, others with lights, and still more with an assortment of knickknacks.
“Wow, you go all out.”
Keith only shrugs as he stoops to pick up a little snow globe, turning it over in his hands. He glances up at Shiro through his lashes for a moment, then back to his boxes. “Well... it's been the first time in a long time since I've bothered, I figure there's no point if there's no company.
“Oh, are you having people over this year?” Shiro asks as he crouches to pluck a string of tangled lights from the box, fiddling with it as the moment stretches into silence, “... Keith?”
“Ah, well...” Keith clears his throat and mutters something into the carpet, lips pressed into a thin line as he shrugs again.
“Pardon?” Shiro cocks his ear toward him and slows his clattering with the string of lights, offering Keith his best smile and full attention.
“I said, uh... maybe, if you wanted, I thought... maybe...” His face screws up into something quite unfortunate, like it physically pains him to open up at all. “Well you're new and all, and if you have nowhere to go-” He cuts himself off abruptly with a shake of his head. “Naw, this is stupid... look, if you want to be here with me and Kos, we'd make room for you, you know? We'd... I'd... like to spend more time... with you.”
“Oh.” Shiro can only stare at him in surprise, taken aback by the uncharacteristic bounty of information. “Well, sure!”
“You don't have to,” Keith starts twisting a length of garland in his hands and continues on like Shiro hadn't spoken at all, “I know you probably got real friends, or maybe somebody to spend it with, or... hell, I dunno maybe even a favorite bar, but uh... if you get desperate enough to want to then you can-”
“Keith,” Shiro stops his rambling with a hand settled over the garland massacre, “I'd love to spend the holidays with you... and with Kosmo.”
“Oh... yeah?” Keith perks up and drops the garland in his lap to set his own hand on Shiro's. “Well hey, then maybe we can make a dinner out of it, I make some mean gator bites, and I swear I've got a real bottle of wine around here somewhere... and maybe we could do a trial run or two before the holiday? Just to see if the dinner is any good?”
“Why, Mister Swampman,” Shiro teases, leaning in to nudge Keith in the ribs with an elbow, “that sounds an awful lot like you're asking me on a date.”
“Well,” Keith smiles up at him, all shy like he doesn't realize he's caught Shiro hook, line, and sinker, “would you say yes if I did?”
“Hmmm... well, darlin'” Shiro drawls out in his best terrible southern accent, “why don't we decorate the bedroom first, and I'll let you find out.”