Work Text:
The crew of the Atlas appear to be growing particularly busy as the planet's atmosphere begins to chill on this side of their equatorial demarcation. Keith wasn't aware that humans were a hibernating species like some of their larger mammals appear to be, but he can think of no other reason for the sudden overabundance of food and the crowding in their non-space malls.
It's bizarre to say the least, and nothing in his cultural training has prepared him for it – Kolivan will need to be alerted to the deficiency in their materials... once he figures out what response the situation calls for.
It is fortunate that he has been stationed here long enough to become friendly with the ship's Captain, an impressive man – especially broad and capable for a human. He is Keith's favorite among those of his species that he has met so far, and one of only a handful that he feels comfortable seeking out to acquire information.
He is also exceptionally easy to find, a man with a dedication to his work that rival's Kolivan's, who can usually be found on the bridge or in his office – even during the hours that are later into the night cycle when the other officers have long since returned to their quarters.
Two quick raps on the office door have it sliding open, revealing the Captain as he beckons Keith in with a smile. “Hello, Keith. What brings you here this evening?”
The Captain's voice is pleasant, as always, and Keith can feel his ears perking in response.
“Captain,” he offers a slight bow, smiling back even as the Captain huffs a laugh.
“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Shiro?”
“As it pleases you, Shiro.” Keith inclines his head, enjoying what he has decided is an amusing human ritual that they engage in each time. “I was curious... is your crew going into hibernation?”
Shiro blinks at him curiously, head cocked in a manner that makes him seem far less intimidating than the seasoned warrior Keith knows he is.
“No, why?”
“The activity level has picked up significantly in both consumption of calories and purchasing of soft bedding and den furnishings... perhaps I am mistaken in thinking this is Earth nesting behavior.”
“Oh!” Shiro laughs, but it's too happy to be taken as an insult as his training had suggested. “The crew is getting ready for the holidays... it's an Earth tradition.” He pauses, then half shrugs. “Well, some of Earth, it's a little complicated... but no, no hibernating here.”
“I see.”
He doesn't, not really, but at least he doesn't have to be concerned about guarding a ship full of sleeping humans for movements on end.
“You could celebrate with me this year, if you'd like,” Shiro offers, ever the consummate diplomat.
Keith would be foolish to turn him down, even if his cheeks are filling with blood as humans do when they are agitated. It must be significant to let a potential threat into a den during their festive times, and most unwise for Keith to turn down the honor of being trusted.
“I would be honored,” he replies evenly, hoping to convey his understanding of the gravity of the offer. “Are there rituals I must partake in before the undertaking?”
“Err, well...” The Captain's skin grows ruddier, a sure sign of his agitation. “I mean, not really... not that I would expect you to do.”
“I wish to heed all human customs,” Keith insists, bringing his fist to his chest in the Galran sign of respect, “our alliance is important.”
“Right.” The Captain sighs, and the blood retreats from his cheeks, though his shoulders droop as well. Perhaps Keith's audience has tired him. “Yes... don't worry about our alliance, it's fine. You can just show up as yourself – no need to be on duty for this.”
“As... myself?” Keith blinks at him, ears swiveling to make sure he hasn't missed anything in translation. “Do humans usually attend in disguise?”
“Well, some people wear Santa costumes,” Shiro begins, then stops himself with a laugh, “I mean, no... just... I'll send you a message with the day and time, okay? It'll be low-key.”
Keith blinks slowly at him to show his understanding. “Of course, Captain. I will await your message.” Then he's backing out the door at Shiro's wave of dismissal, basking in his well-wishes for a pleasant evening.
He was not aware of the requirement to bring keys to human gatherings, but is thankful that he will not have to gather a high amount of them before their meeting.
Still, there is certainly more to the tradition than the Captain is divulging, perhaps for Keith's comfort as a Galran envoy, which will certainly not do. He is here to learn the culture and customs through immersion, no matter the personal cost. The Captain's desire to coddle him leaves him with only one option.
He must engage his second favorite human.
“He said what now?” Matt asks as he lounges in the rotating chair in his lab, his dirty boots kicked up on the counters in a manner that would give Ulaz a fit.
“That I am not expected to concern myself with adherence to traditional Earth customs for your upcoming celebratory season,” Keith explains, letting a frown pull at the corner of his mouth in the presence of his familiar rebel companion, “I worry that he does not consider me capable of completing whatever trials your people are preparing for in their many excursions to your non-space malls, but I assure you I am adept at gathering both sustenance and basic necessities for long-term shelter.”
Matt's face flips through several inscrutable expressions before landing on something Keith can recognize as perhaps sympathetic.
“I see,” he nods, long fingers tapping at his chin as he sizes Keith up. “So you want to prove to Shiro that you can complete the human trials of Advent?”
Keith puffs up, chest out and ears pricked as he nods. “Yes, if that is what humans do.” He hesitates, worrying his lip with a fang before adding, “And I believe I need to acquire more keys, though the Captain did specify that only a low amount were required to participate.”
Matt's facial muscles spasm, a purely human affliction that Keith has noticed before... he can only be grateful that the ailment does not seem to affect the human's impressive cognitive capabilities. It would truly be a blow to Earth and the coalition were they to lose such a fine and trustworthy member of their scientific community.
“Yes, that is definitely what humans do.” Matt coughs and rubs across his mouth. Perhaps his ailment is getting worse. Keith will have to consult with Ulaz to see if there is any record on treatments for human spasms. “You're lucky this is a low key affair... acquiring the Advent keys can be pretty tough.”
“I am ready.” Keith puffs his chest out even farther, making sure to fluff his fur on end to maximize his size. “How may I begin the trials?”
“Well, first of all, we're gonna need to take a trip to the mall...”
Keith does not enjoy the non-space mall any more than he enjoys the stellar equivalent. It appears to be filthy, filled with Terran children contaminating things with their sticky paws. He had been warned that humans were a tactile race, but hearing it and seeing them touch all over each other and the wares is an entirely separate challenge to overcome.
He squints around at the crowds surging through the narrow avenues of attack and leans in low to murmur to his companion, “We must complete the mission without becoming contaminated then, is that the challenge?”
“Not quite,” Matt huffs, keeping his voice equally low in an admirable display of subtlety for a human who is normally prone to loud noises, “you don't want to touch anything you don't need, but that's not the target.”
“I see.” He doesn't. “May I request more information on my mark?”
“You may,” Matt nods, and Keith is altogether grateful that he has a guide through this rigorous human ritual, “your mission here today is to acquire the traditional Advent offerings and raiment that will embody the sacrifice to the demigod Santa Claws in your place.”
Keith nods, his mouth pulling into a thin line. He had no idea the humans still practiced such eldritch rituals... he will need to update his report to Kolivan to include the new information once the trials are complete.
“Santa Claws,” he repeats to himself, envisioning a beast of infinite terror, able to lacerate the spirits of their ancestors much like the ancient Galra might have believed millennia ago. “Was perhaps your Admiral 'Sanda' named after the beast?”
“Yes, definitely,” Matt chokes, the spasms back in full force as he valiantly tries to contain his affliction. “She was a near perfect likeness at birth.”
“I see.” It makes sense, her pinched expressions must still bear the image of the hulking beast. “How will I know if I have the correct offerings?”
“They'll be the most festive,” Matt confides, nodding his chin at a garish display, “the human term comes from 'feast' – so it means the offering will be the most tasty.”
“Would meat not be a better offering then?” Keith asks, bewildered as he takes in the blinking lights, shiny bows, and jangling metal orbs, “Does the demigod eat the offerings?”
“Nah, the meat dress went out of style centuries ago,” Matt shakes his head with a shrug, “and it's more of a metaphor anyway – it eats the aura of cheer.”
Keith thinks that perhaps his translator may be malfunctioning with the ancient language Matt is using – perhaps by 'cheer' he means it eats the screams of the offering as they echo through the void.
“I see... these are both offering and raiment?”
“More like the ritualistic robes,” Matt backtracks a bit as he waves a hand at the display, “scattered throughout this ancient ritual ground there will be clothing in the style of the raiment – you'll want to find the most suitable for the event... the more suitable the dress, the more keys it's worth.”
“....I see.” Keith's breath escapes him in a low sigh as he stretches onto his toes. There are many places with articles that appear to fit the criteria... he must be diligent in choosing only the finest and most likely to reap 'cheer' for the demigod if he wishes to impress the Captain. “And the offering itself?”
“That's the easy part,” Matt assures him, reaching to plant a comforting hand on Keith's shoulder. He is a good friend. “The offering must be an item of great value for whoever you bestow it upon in place of Santa himself – in this case it'll be Shiro.”
Keith feels his ears droop as his brow knits in consternation. “An item of value for the Captain?”
“Yeah,” Matt shrugs, grinning as if he has full confidence in Keith's ability to pass the trial, “whatever you think Shiro will like best, something that will make him smile... that's what you get him.”
“The Captain smiles at many things,” Keith muses out loud, reaching up to stroke his ear in thought, “he often smiles at me when I enter his presence...” Matt bites back another sound, and Keith is instantly guilty for taking up his valuable time. He must be in considerable discomfort with his affliction bothering him so often. “I believe I am prepared to undertake this challenge.”
“Me too buddy.” Matt slaps him on the back. “Oh, and one more restriction... you can't spend over seventy GAC.”
Keith squints at him in confusion. “Am I meant to purchase these items then? Are they not meant to be acquired by stealth and force?”
The strangled squawk that bursts from the human's chest is concerning, but Matt waves off his attempts to assist as he laughs through the pain. “No. No... the human way is through barter. Shiro would be unhappy with an intergalactic incident if you get caught, and then you would, uh... lose keys.”
“I see.”
Keith steels himself and sticks a hand in the pocket of his uniform. “Then I will entrust the rest of this GAC to you, as ritual demands.” He returns seventy of the GAC to his pocket before snapping a crisp salute. “If that is all...”
“Yeah, yeah, go ahead.” Matt waves him off, one hand covering his mouth in an attempt to hide his condition. Perhaps Keith will find him an offering as well, he should also get to smile.
He takes his leave with that in mind, slinking off through the aisles and weaving his way between packs of humans. They appear to be unusually loud during this festival time – reminding Keith once again of his initial hypothesis of hibernation. Surely they must be expending extra energy with the yelling and dashing about and touching of things... perhaps the humans simply do not understand their own behavioral patterns. Though, they do also appear to be consuming an incredible amount of food in the process.
Highly inefficient.
His slinking brings him to the edge of a large antechamber where the ritualistic feasting must occur, ringed entirely in smaller antechambers where the commerce takes place. One in particular contains precious rocks of a multitude of colors that pique his curiosity.
The shop keep smiles at him as he crosses the threshold of their domain – likely an attempt to convey that their wares will be most likely to produce the same results in their chosen holder of the trials.
It will not work on Keith, of course. He is too well versed in human psychology to fall for such tricks.
“Hello,” he greets them, bringing his fist to his chest, “your wares appear to contain a multitude of 'cheer', yes?”
The keeper blinks at him, smile dimming just a touch. “Beg your pardon?”
His translator is most certainly malfunctioning.
“Your... precious stones,” Keith tries again, pointing to the display with one long claw, “are they intended to induce smiling?”
“Oh!” Their smile is back in full force, nodding as they bustle over to the display. “Yes, dear, of course... it is the season for engagements after all.” They glance up at him, eyes sparkling in a way not unlike the 'cheer' he must track down. “Are you looking to propose to a special someone?”
Keith pauses to consider. He has proposed many things to the Captain over the course of their assignment together. They have also completed many engagements with the enemy separately, proving themselves to be fierce on the field of battle. Perhaps these stones are meant to signify admiration for a worthy ally, or a comrade in arms that is much appreciated.
“Yes, I believe so.”
Their smile dims a bit again. “Well, not to discourage you honey, but this should be something you're sure about.”
Ah, his commitment to completing the trials appears weak enough that even the most common of shop keeps feels they should question his ability to see it through. This will not do.
“I would lay down my life to complete this task,” he assures them, drawing his blade to tap it twice against his chest as custom dictates, “as fate has brought us together, nothing will stop me.”
“Wow, you fellas sure are an intense bunch,” they titter, flapping a hand at their blood-filled cheeks. Keith sheathes his blade, chagrined to have caused agitation. “Well, do you have something in mind?”
It is a question to ponder, surely. The offering must be suitable to present to a human as impressive as the Captain... something that he will enjoy enough to gift Keith with his approval.
“Do you carry something from beyond Earth?” he asks, thinking of the Captain's love for stellar exploration, “perhaps something akin to a nebula?”
The keep's eyes light up. “Oh, I have just the thing!” They bustle to a back room, returning quickly with a velvet box that holds what Keith recognizes as meteorite and a rock that gleams with the fires of a supernova.
It will certainly suffice.
“Yes, that is ideal.” He nods in approval. “How many GAC do you require?”
“This one is about ten thousand, dear.”
That is many more GAC than seventy... though the Holt did say that he could barter.
Keith hums and digs through his rucksack, ignoring the GAC in his pocket in favor of finding something the shop keep may find worthy of their own smile.
The Balmera crystal glows as he plunks it down on the glass surface of their counter, it's one of his smaller ones – barely the size of his fist, really just a snack for Kosmo, but he hopes it will suffice.
“Will you trade for this?”
“Heavens!” The keep exclaims, pulling the spectacles down off their head to examine his offering. He is not offended, having read up on the human custom of inspecting goods for barter closely, though it would be far beyond his capabilities to replicate a crystal of this luminosity. “Is this one of those space crystals?”
“Yes, it could likely power this shop for the next few generations of your kin... or be split to make jewelry in the style of the Altean Princess.”
“That's right!” they exclaim, eyes even wider, “Allura herself wears these!”
“Yes,” Keith agrees, hoping to encourage the trade through subtle osmosis of status. “Will it suffice for your jewel?”
“More than... here, wait...” They scurry into the back again, coming out this time with a set of pin-like studs in the same style as the other. “Cuff links to go with the ring... I hope you don't mind, I assumed it was for a gentleman based on the ring's size.”
“Yes.” Keith agrees, not quite certain what cuff links are for, but they are certainly full of 'cheer.' “Thank you... may I depart with your wares?”
“Yes, of course! And happy holidays!”
“A successful Advent to you.”
He bows low and tucks his acquisitions into his rucksack before slipping from the shop, eager to continue his hunt for the raiment so that he may complete the trials in a timely manner. Matt had not warned him that the trial grounds close for the evening, but he has heard some of the other contestants talking about their time limits before the arbiters must come to clear the grounds. He can see some of them circling even now, uniformed and cow-eyed... certainly he could beat them in fair combat if it came down to it – but that would likely displease the Captain.
His pace quickens as he slips down the broad avenues full of revelers toting bags – fresh off successful endeavors to obtain their own offerings. He feels a twinge of unease at the thought that the perfect raiment may have already been snatched up by their sticky human fingers and defiled until no longer suitable to release 'cheer' into the void. Time is of the essence.
Many of the shops appear to carry articles that are suitable in cut and sizing, but wholly inappropriate in style. It baffles him that any of them would carry clothing that does not appear to produce any 'cheer' at all – clothing more suitable in style to a human mourning gathering. Though perhaps not all humans attempt the Advent trials, given their difficulty, and must wear their shame publicly so all will know their cowardice. He spares a glance down at his own deep purple uniform, wondering if he bears the mark already.
This will not do.
At long last, he spies the ideal location – lit so brightly that his eyes burn on approach, forcing his third eyelid to slide over in an effort to shade him from the reflective sheen. Matt had not warned him that the 'cheer' would be a physical discomfort, assaulting his senses at every turn. His nose wrinkles as a sharp smell wafts by, something almost hot in sensation while simultaneously cloying to him. It is terrible, and appears to be coming from a woman spraying poison into the air.
She is not smiling.
“What is that?” he asks, recoiling from the aerosolized assault.
“Red Hot Santa Baby,” she replies, utterly monotone. Perhaps she is an Advent drone, like the Galra sentries. “The new seasonal scent.”
She depresses the mechanism again, releasing another cloud that Keith narrowly avoids. He briefly considers disarming her, but there appears to be an arbiter just outside the shop... best not to test them before his task is complete.
He settles for baring his fangs and flattening his ears in an expression of his displeasure as he sidesteps the miasma and heads for the brightest corner of the shop. Here he is nearly overwhelmed by the variety of 'cheer', the blinking lights and jingling bells mingling with the cacophony of ritual chanting coming from hidden speakers – a song celebrating the history of the Clawed One in his infancy, sung by one of his worshipers. He has heard it at least a dozen times since entering the non-space mall, and is prepared to transcribe the hymn into his report... Kolivan will surely be keen to learn of this 'chimney' weakness that he exploits.
But first... he must make it through this final test. His third eyelids shiver under the glare of the strobing strings of warning lights, attempting to reflect as much as they can. His ears remain pinned flat against his head in an effort to muffle the shrieking 'cheer' of the souls lost in Advents past. The treacherous mist floats ever closer from the Advent drone, setting his nose twitching. Truly he underestimated the undertaking. Still, as the representative of his species it is imperative that he prevail.
Letting his third lids slide back, he takes stock of the wall of shimmering garments and plucks a bodysuit much like his own from a hook. It shimmers from every angle – coated in small reflective dishes that are clearly meant to torment an adversary... how devious. The accompanying headgear includes a long tubular pouch that he could conceal a weapon in, artfully hidden by the fluffy sphere on the end. It is not immediately apparent how to activate the sphere, but he is certain that it will also prove useful in combat.
Next, he makes his way to a set of shining arm wraps made of a loosely woven netting that reaches his elbows. The spun thread glimmers silver and hooks over his fingers, perhaps in order to create a distraction as he thrusts and parries. Certainly these humans have found a way to inject 'cheer' into their raiment in fantastic ways – he feels prepared to fight their clawed demigod himself.
Braving the cloud of poison once again, he approaches the Advent drone with his bounty.
“I wish to acquire these.”
“Kay.” She begins to scan his items into a machine of some sort, tapping at a tablet between beeps before fixing him with her dead-eyed stare. “Your total is forty-seven GAC but you can get two bows and plush with your purchase for five GAC more.”
“What is a plush?” Keith squints at her, unsure whether to trust the drone to assist his endeavors. “Will it bring 'cheer'?”
She shrugs at him and pulls up a bag of pre-formed ribbons and fluffy cloth creatures from beneath the counter – not unlike the toys the Galra kits play with in their youth.
Perhaps the Advent drones are not so bad.
Keith feels much like the demigod himself as he makes his way back to the Atlas, his rucksack bouncing over his shoulder where it nearly overflows with his bounty. Surely he has defeated the trials of Advent in a manner sufficient to impress the Captain. Though his first stop is the lab where his trusted friend is waiting for his triumphant return.
“I have completed the trials,” he declares as he drops the sack onto the table in front of Matt. “I humbly request my victory keys.”
Matt startles, blinking up at him before reaching for the sack. “Already?”
Keith can't help but preen, he suspected he had beaten the arbiter's time limit by a considerable amount. “Yes, I am dedicated to completing your human customs.”
“Huh.” Matt nods and begins to pull out items, lighting up at the heavily scented and luminous raiment. “Oh my god... these are fabulous.”
Keith nods, not entirely sure what that word means, but he assumes it will produce a net positive of 'cheer.' “Yes, it was a difficult task, as you had indicated.”
“Yeah, shopping is a bitch this time of year,” Matt agrees idly, before trailing off, jaw hanging wide. “Holy shit... is this an engagement ring?!”
“Yes.” Keith smiles at him, pleased that he appears to have exceeded expectations. “The shop keep indicated that it would be ideal for expressing my admiration to the Captain... it brought to mind his fondness for stellar exploration, and we have both been involved in several engagements with the enemy. A commemoration seemed appropriate.”
“Yeah-” Matt wheezes, overcome with a bout of his affliction as he inspects the matching cuff links, “-that's great Keith, you did great.”
“Thank you, Matt.” Keith offers him a short bow and reaches into the bottom of the sack to pluck out the remaining item. “I treasure your assistance, and your friendship... I wished to also gift you an offering.” He holds the fluffy white canine cloth toy out to him. “Your 'Bae Bae' appears to bring you joy, though your time with the creature is limited... I hope you enjoy this shrunken likeness as a tribute.”
Matt's face begins to wobble, a new development in his ailment. “Keith...” He reaches out to take the toy, thumb stroking the soft little nose before he looks up at Keith with shining eyes. “I am an asshole, and I don't deserve you.”
Keith blinks at him, unsure if this is part of the ritual.
“Does this mean I do not receive my keys, or a smile?”
“Dammit, man...” Matt lurches up to tug Keith into a hug – a common human indicator of affection and contentment. Keith has done well. “Of course you do... here.” He fishes an entire jingling bundle from his pocket and thrusts it into Keith's hand, wiping at his eyes with the other. “You can have all of those.”
Keith can only stare down at the fortune of keys in his palm in disbelief. “This is so many keys!”
“I know buddy... I love you, highkey.”
Matt had given him one last crucial piece of intel and assistance before the culmination of the festival, which was scheduled to take place in the Captain's own quarters. Keith had appreciated it, especially since the trench coat that Matt had lent him strategically covers all of his raiment except the hat and bows affixed to his standard issue boots, hiding his 'cheer' from the eyes of those who might seek to steal it. Properly concealed, he arrives at the Captain's quarters without incident, hidden from all prying eyes as the door swooshes open to allow him entry.
“Keith, hello! I love the hat... can I take your coat?” The Captain claps him on the shoulder and ushers him inside, hardly giving Keith a moment to appreciate his festive regalia. It is, of course, full of 'cheer' – he would expect no less from such a man – and also appears to be made for comfort rather than for battle.
Keith can appreciate a man confident enough in his skill to forgo armor.
“Yes, sir.” Keith nods and sheds the borrowed coat, revealing his luminous bodysuit and accompanying accessories. “I am prepared with the festival raiment.”
“Oh – wow.” Shiro nearly drops the coat as he takes in Keith's effort, eyes raking over the quality of his display before meeting his gaze once more. “You look uh... wow, Keith. You look great... I mean, festive!”
“There is sufficient 'cheer?'” Keith presses him, twisting to display the high cut of the body suit that leaves his hips and legs bare until the tops of the bow-clad boots that begin just above his knees. “My directives were unclear, but I wished to convey my commitment to the ritual.”
“Yeah it's... yeah.” Shiro swallows hard, cheeks filling with blood in a way that Keith can only hope is merely agitation and not repressed displeasure. “But um... your... directives?”
“I wished to be prepared for your ritual – the honoring of the ancient Santa Claws, I brought an offering as well... and many keys, though you have been gracious enough to require few.”
“Keys?” Shiro asks, eyes continuing their pattern of drifting and jerking back up – likely dazzled by the luminous intensity of Keith's raiment.
“Ah, yes.” Keith plucks the coat back and pulls out two bundles, passing one over to Shiro for inspection. “You had mentioned this gathering would be low key, but with the assistance of your greatest scientist I have acquired many more than the bare minimum.”
Shiro stares down at the bundle of keys, lips parted in surprise. “These are... Matt's.”
“Yes.”
The Captain sighs and passes a hand over his face. “That explains a lot.”
“He is very good at explaining things,” Keith agrees, always keen to credit his allies for their contributions, “His help was critical in the intelligence gathering phase of this mission.”
“I bet it was,” Shiro sighs, then huffs a laugh and pockets the keys. “Alright, what's this about an offering... did he send you on a wild goose chase?”
Keith pauses midway through his presentation of the small box, feeling a sudden pang of uncertainty.
“No... was there... was I meant to subdue one of your Earth fowl?”
“No!” Shiro shakes his head so vigorously Keith is worried he may cause himself harm. “No, it's just an expression... please, continue.”
“I see.” Keith certainly does not see, but he continues as directed and pops open the little box. “I have acquired this offering for you – a token of my admiration and an expression of my deepest hope that we may continue alongside each other as fate wills it. I wish to convey my support of you in your engagements, and also your cuffs – whatever those may be.”
“Keith-” Shiro chokes out his name, a strangle squeak eked between pink cheeks. “-an engagement ring?”
“Yes, I believe that is what the shop keep called it.” He pokes one claw at the matching pins. “And links, for your cuffs... do you have cuffs?”
Shiro nods faintly, appearing no less agitated in his coloration. “I have cuffs.”
“Good.” Keith nods to himself and plucks the ring from the box, offering it out to Shiro. “I am unsure where human wear their rings. Galra wear them in many locations, and Matt has mentioned a variety of options...” he flicks his gaze to the Captain's trousers to asses with a shake of his head, “though some I doubt would fit.”
“Yeah no,” Shiro coughs into his fist, beginning to show early signs of the same affliction that plagues Matt. “They go on fingers or... maybe as a necklace.”
“Then you will accept the offering?” Keith beams up at him, ears perking and chest fluffed as he brings his fist to his chest. “I would be honored to complete the trials of Advent with you.”
“The.... the trials... right,” Shiro replies, appearing dazed by the quality of Keith's gifts, “that's... yeah. Wow, Keith... yeah we can, I mean... yeah.”
“Excellent.” Keith steps into his space, nearly purring with excitement as they reach the final act – the sealing of the Claws. “Then we must seal our essence together, in an echo of ritual past to maintain the 'cheer' that seals him away, yes?”
Shiro blinks down at him, then up at the ceiling as he mutters to himself. “I'm going to kill him....”
“I was under the impression that the Claws was slain eons ago.”
Huffing a laugh, Shiro drops his chin and reaches out to draw Keith in close, radiating blood from his face without an ounce of displeasure. “Yeah, along with my last thread of sanity.” He tucks his chin over Keith's head and wraps him in an embrace that Keith is happy to return, purr kicking up in his chest at the explicit trust shown – he could easily slay the Captain from this position. “Thank you for the Christmas gift, Keith.”
“You are most welcome, Captain.”
“Please, call me Shiro... especially now that we're engaged,” Shiro jokes, pulling back enough to pet Keith's jaw with his knuckle. “Now I feel bad that I didn't get you anything nearly as nice.”
“It is fine, Shiro,” Keith assures him, stretching to his toes with a smile as he gets in range to seal the ritual, “I have been told the trials are annual... I would be honored to spend many more with you.”
Shiro smiles at him, more radiant than Keith's bodysuit as he dips low and completes the banishment of the Clawed One.
“Of course, Keith,” he murmurs against Keith's lips, before finishing the ancient incantation, “Merry Christmas.”