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It starts small, as things tend to do. Maybe the laundry system got mixed up and sent Shiro's bed sheets and sweatshirt to his room... or maybe Atlas is doing him a solid, who knows. Either way the outcome is the same – one minute Keith is lounging on his bed reading some report Regris sent him, and the next he's nearly ripping the bundle of cloth from the chute where it's stashed and dumping it into a pile in the middle of his bed.
He's not exactly sure what's come over him, or why, but he needs these things, these delightfully Shiro-scented things, all over his entire life. Like yesterday. In fact, these little things aren't gonna cut it, not if he's gonna make a whole nest – because that's what he needs to do, clearly. He's not sure why it never occurred to him before, because it's so obvious now that of course he needs to roll around in Shiro's things until he dies smothered in that wonderfully safe scent.
Who knows what he's been doing all these years, wasting his time washing sheets to put on his bed when he could have been covering it in Shiro's clothes this whole time. At least he knows better now and can make up for years of ignorance to his life's calling.
The only problem now is his woeful lack of appropriately Shiro-soaked articles due to his prior lunacy... it's not the end of the world, but it certainly will require a bit of legwork that will inevitably cut into his nest luxuriating time. Still, it will be worth it in the end.
That's what he tells himself when he's hauling back an armful of Shiro's bedding – straight from the source. He would've gone for the laundry room to get the smelliest ones, but Atlas already finished the cycle – another case of robots run amok in his life. At least these blankets have the reek of immediate proximity, and the pillow cases still even have a hair or two left over... he'll have to weave those carefully into a place of honor so he can sniff them whichever way he decides to curl up in his nest.
Arranging them is an ordeal in itself, each piece needs to be primped and fluffed and molded into the best possible configuration of comfort and scent, plus it needs to be big enough to fit Shiro when Keith lures him into his den.
Because of course he needs to lure Shiro into his den, why else would he be making this nice fancy nest?
Except... the nest is comfy and all, and it definitely smells like his favorite person... but it's still not complete. It needs more. He's not sure what more, but there's gotta be something else to add to it that will make it more Shiro-y than ever.
There's nothing unusual about him making a trip to Shiro's office, it is keyed to his biometrics after all, he's even been in here a time or two before when Shiro wasn't to wait for their daily lunch date. No, this is totally normal. There's nothing weird about him rooting through the filing cabinet in the desk and pulling out Shiro's personnel file, or when he steals the paperweight shaped like Kosmo and the extra dress uniform jacket that he keeps in here in case of spills. In fact... the squishy seat's upholstery can come too, it's easy enough to rip off if he lets his claws come out.
Claws?
Keith squints down at his hands, laden as they are with various Shiro-smelling things. His fingernails are definitely a bit pointier than usual...
Perfect to shred out the seat of this chair, which has been absolutely imbued with ass-musk. A blessing – one that serves a double purpose since he can flip it upside-down and store his other treasures on the inside bowl of it with the padding. Now he can carry even more things!
In goes the pair of slippers that Shiro keeps under his desk for the nights that he works late – and the fork tucked away in the drawer that probably still has traces of saliva on it. And he would be remiss if he forgot to take the beret hanging on the hook by the door, even if it only smells faintly of Shiro since it gets so little use... but there might still be leftover hair inside it.
Purr-chortling, he makes his way back to his room with his armload of treasures, practically skipping as he beams at everyone he comes across. He gets a few funny looks, probably from people who can't smell how delicious his treasures are, but nobody stops him – and why would they? This is the best idea he's ever had! He can't imagine why he hasn't done this earlier.
He's almost made it back to his room when he spots it – the biggest most Shiro-y thing yet.
Scurrying the rest of the way, he practically throws the treasures into the middle of the comfy pile and races back out of his room. He can't risk someone else catching on to the prize that somehow has remained unmolested this entire time.
The holy grail.
The giant official portrait of the Admiral himself, nearly as tall as Keith is and twice as wide. Of course it's bolted to the wall, but that's never stopped him before... and neither is the growing group of would-be thieves now that he's alerted them to the presence of treasure in their midst. Fortunately, a baring of fangs and a rattling hiss are enough to send them scurrying away – proving they are unworthy of even beholding something so precious. He would fight at least ten men for the right to possess it, but he is strong, and they are weak. So weak they probably couldn't even carry it like he can, slink-dashing sideways as fast as he can with his arms stretched wide around the frame. Sure, he might be drawing attention to himself, but his fangs are long and sharp, and he is ready to defend his nest.
Wait... fangs?
Licking his teeth proves what he supposes he already knew, but the eight new pointy additions to his mouth will serve him well in the coming days in case anyone tries to steal his treasures. How fortuitous that they've chosen now to aid him. He flashes them at an officer that looks like he's about to say something, and promptly smells the sudden reek of fear sweat. Good.
The portrait barely fits through the door, but with a little tilting he manages to slip it in, poking his head back out to hiss in both directions down the hallway – just in case.
It looks magical leaned up in the corner of his nest – like the real Shiro, all big and beautiful and in Keith's nest like he belongs.
Like he isn't.
Intellectually, Keith knows that Shiro is probably busy. Shiro does lots of important things as an admiral, and he has about eighty million meetings a day, and never takes time for himself to relax, and what free time he does manage to eek out is usually spent trying to go on dates with Keith. So really, he gets it, he knows why Shiro isn't here.
But. Shiro isn't here.
He tries rearranging the nest again, stuffing all the new treasures into lumpy nooks and crannies, decorating the outside edges with the less comfy treasures that might hurt to lay on... but it's no use. Even pretty painting Shiro only makes him grumpier that he can't hug it very well.
Rolling out of the nest is instinctual, and before he can think about what he's doing he's already sniffing his way down the hall. Fortunately, the hall is a lot sniffier than usual. He can practically see the trails of where his mate has been lately, like a siren's song leading him to the best treasure yet. It stops in front of a door to a room he's been in many times before, a potent cloud leading into the space beyond.
He's slapping his hand to the scanner before he can think about it, slinking inside as the door whooshes open to a meeting with lots of blades and people in grey that he thinks he likes... and Shiro. Shiro, who trails off mid word from the podium where he'd been speaking, looking bewildered but no less happy to see Keith.
“Ah, there you are!” Shiro beams down at him and gestures with his floating arm... that'll need to go into the nest too. “We were getting worried when you didn't show up or answer your pad.”
Keith grunts to acknowledge his mate, kicking off a rumbling purr that he has little control over as he stalks down the length of the table.
“Keith? You're looking a little... purple?”
His mate doesn't struggle when Keith reaches him and unceremoniously tosses him over a shoulder, snatching the wrist of the floating arm for good measure so it can't escape. “Mine.”
“Keith?!”
“Aww, Kolivan, he's in his first nesting season!” Someone croons, prompting Keith to squint into the room, sniffing the air. His mother is here! He chirps at her in passing, slowing his steps so he can offer a headbutt to her shoulder where she remains seated. “I'm proud of you, kit... you are going to have such a lovely nest aren't you?”
He chirps again, trilling over the purr that hasn't abated in the slightest. She smiles at him and plucks a small kerchief from the inside pocket of her suit, holding it out to him... it smells safe, like love.
It'll be perfect for his nest.
She tucks it in his collar for safe keeping and he headbutts her again – but he can't spend any more time here with such an important task at hand.
Literally at hand... it keeps trying to float away from him as he hauls his best treasure yet to the door.
“Keith, don't you think we should-”
“Don't bother, Admiral.” Kolivan chuckles as he stands to take Shiro's place at the head of the room. “You're not going to get away from him now... enjoy your week of nesting.”
“A week?!”
The door slides shut again behind them, cutting off the blades' laughter as Keith continues his triumphant return home. Not even the curious looks from potential challengers in the hall can stop him now – not when he keeps his face in a permanent hiss, purr turned to growl as he stalks through with his prize. His nest is going to be so much better than their nests, even if the arm treasure keeps trying to escape.
“Keith, sweetheart,” Shiro sighs from somewhere near his waist, “I can walk you know.”
Keith tightens his grip on Shiro's thighs, letting his newly sharp claws poke just a little to deter escape by trickery. His nest will not be complete without his best treasure. Lucky for him, his mate settles down after that – realizing that Keith is correct and the nest must be the best nest, and for it to be the best nest there must be the best treasures inside. Everyone will see eventually, but he's glad his mate has seen quickly.
He doesn't let him down until they're safely back in Keith's own quarters, then he heaves him down like a sack of potatoes, letting him bounce into the center of nest where he can enjoy his own likeness.
“Keith,” Shiro squeaks, staring at the giant portrait that stares right back at him, “did you steal this?”
Steal? No. Of course he didn't.
He rescued these treasures from people who didn't appreciate them.
“And... is this my chair seat? And my paperwork?” Shiro begins to dig through Keith's nest, which is exactly the opposite of what he's supposed to be doing... but how could he know that? Shiro hasn't ever had a nest either.
Keith growls at him to get his attention, then points to the middle of the nest when Shiro turns to raise an eyebrow at him. “Rest.”
“Oh... is that what this is?” Shiro looks around at the thing in its entirety now, realization dawning. “Nesting like... like you made us a big bed, awww.”
Keith beams at him and crawls in after, curling around him like a barnacle to keep him safe and cozy in the nest – which is now the best nest, even if the floating hand keeps trying to do things. At least it's still in the room. He's purring so hard that he's nearly chattering his own teeth, rumbling through Shiro's back and side for maximum relaxation.
“You sure are cuddly,” Shiro laughs softly as he twists to wrap his arms around Keith, locking them together in a wonderful embrace. It's magical. “But um... does the uh... creepy picture of me have to stay?”
Keith squints at him and opens his mouth to ever so gently rest his fangs on Shiro's shoulder. The treasure is staying.
Shiro swallows hard and seems to agree, because he is a smart mate, and the best treasure... which is why all versions of him must be in the nest.
After all, Keith does have the very best nest.