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The thing about having a giant naga for a mate is that the baseline for weird and the threshold of weird are almost indistinguishable. Sometimes Shiro will just be hanging from the rafters, slorping along the stripped bones of some poor creature when Keith wakes up in the morning, and then a few days later he's busying himself in the ceiling nook – making bone jewelry for Keith and Krolia and whoever else strikes his fancy that week.
He's pretty sure that Shiro's been supplying Ulaz with freshly 'cleaned' scientific specimens, mostly leftover lunches that he's careful not to handle too roughly. Shiro must really like the man, since he gets this ridiculously adorable little pout every time he remembers not to snap the bones and suck out the marrow, sacrificing his favorite treat in the name of science.
Ulaz better appreciate it, cause Keith isn't super keen on living in their weird little bone den until Shiro decides he's collected enough to make a trip into the makeshift lab.
Still, he's pretty sure that all that stuff is baseline weird... normal snaky things that Shiro happens to partake in because it's just who he is. Like sometimes when he gets ready to shed and turns into this horrifically grumpy worm-flake snow machine that thrashes and scrapes and tumbles himself against any rough surface he can find until he's a shiny new boy all over again. Though, that one can be kinda nice. They figured out pretty quickly that Keith's fingernails are just tough enough to shred through the old shed if he gives Shiro a good scritching, which usually leads to a very different kind of snaky agitation.
Keith has since vetoed getting frisky anywhere near a pile of shed – that stuff gets everywhere and globs onto sweaty skin like paper mache. Shiro was perfectly happy to oblige him and clean out his piles of skin – apparently feeling so territorial that not even his own old snake-coat is allowed to snuggle with Keith in their den. He's pretty sure that he even saw Shiro give a grumbling hiss at the pile where his face used to be.
Ridiculous. Adorable.
…
Weird.
But maybe just snake things. After all, it's not every day that someone happens to go from a normal person to a giant half snake creature via strange and twisted dark magics... really they're probably lucky that he doesn't turn into a were-snake on full moons or some other weird shit. In the grand scheme of things, what's an extra dick and a little jaw unhinging among lovers? Shiro is just as weirded out by Keith clipping his toenails as Keith is when Shiro decides his dinner was too large and brings it back up to cut into smaller pieces.
Though he'll still still argue until he's blue in the face that one of those is far grosser than the other and should forever be banished from their little den-home. The occasional stray toenail is nowhere near as traumatizing as tripping over a half-digested deer in the dark.
The things he puts up with for love.
Which is why he's just not sure what to make of the current episode of oddity from his favorite scaly boy. Shiro's been extra reclusive lately, spending far more time than usual up in his little lofty platform... and it's not like Keith couldn't get up there if he really wanted to, Shiro did make him a makeshift rope ladder, but he's not keen on potentially tripping over a coil and breaking his neck on the tumble down below. It's just that he's becoming a bit concerned that Shiro might be rolling into another cycle that he doesn't know much about, or that he might slide into his rut again while he's up there and Keith won't be there to cuddle him through it before he turns into a raging ball of pissed off hormones and pointy claws. Or maybe he's got some sort of snaky sniffles, like the snake flu or snake-burc-ulosis, and he's up there being a miserable lump.
The more he thinks about it, the more worried he gets. Shiro never passes up a chance to cuddle in their nest, but these past few days he's hardly left the platform in the rafters at all. He didn't even come down to go dinner together last night, and Shiro never misses a bowl of Kolivan's rabbit stew. Keith had brought him back a bowl, which didn't look like it had been touched, and when he'd woken up Shiro was still up in the rafters hiss-crooning to himself like a lunatic.
Now, of course Keith understands that his snakefriend is prone to talking to himself after so long in solitary captivity, but this is different. Shiro's up there rasping out silly sounds and nonsense like he's got a pet or something...
…
...maybe he does have a pet up there, and he's hiding it from him? Which, frankly is a bit offensive if so, considering he's not the one that might indiscriminately chow down on the local strays when he's feeling a bit peckish. And it's not like Keith ever instituted a 'no pets' policy or anything like that... but it's never really come up before. He wouldn't mind having a pet either way, honestly.
Unless Shiro's got some other snakes up there, 'cause fuck that. Having a single giant slithering lover is one thing – living in a hibernaculum is something he sure as hell didn't sign up for – even if Shiro thinks they're like his dumb second cousins or whatever. There's a line to be drawn here, and it's right there. No more snakes.
Not even little ones. Not even harmless ones.
None.
…
Now that the thought has taken root he can't seem to get it out of his head. What else could Shiro possibly have up there that he would give up warm soup and cuddle time for? Surely he hasn't found a pet he likes more than Keith and the warm spot on their floor where the nest is. What could he be hiding up there that's so enrapturing that he's apparently forgotten about the needy human fifteen feet below him?
He's halfway up the rope ladder before he knows it, hauling himself hand over hand until he can peek his head above the floor of the platform, face to face with a pile of glimmering opalescent scales to match the one around his neck. The giant naga is engrossed in whatever he's got in his coils, his back turned toward Keith as he hunches over it and makes more of those little hissing coos.
“Shiro?” His mate whips his head around like lightning, eyes in dangerous slits and fangs bared as he readies an arm to strike. “Gah! Wait, it's me!”
Keith nearly loses his grip on the rope in his haste to duck his head below slashing range, heart pounding in his throat at the sound of shifting scales. What if Shiro's finally cracked and gone full snake? He'll never escape in time to warn the others-
“Keith?” The whisper is tentative, nearly apologetic as Shiro's face appears above him, pupils rounding out once more. “What are you doing there?”
“I was coming to see you,” Keith huffs, still trembling and more than a little put out at his warm welcome, “but apparently you're still in a mood.”
Shiro cocks his head and blinks at him, first one set of eyelids, then the other, before finally darting a hand out to snatch Keith's shirt and haul him fully onto the platform. “You were sneaking up on us.”
“I wasn't sneaking!” Keith snaps back as he dusts himself off and plops down on one of the gleaming coils, “You just haven't been paying any attention to me lately to know where I am.”
“You were in here.” One clawed hand waves vaguely to the sprawling headquarters around them, like Shiro doesn't care where Keith is beyond that. “I could smell you still.”
It's not the point either way, and this reconnaissance mission is looking more and more like a bust. There doesn't seem to be any sign of whatever has been distracting Shiro, no extra snakes or pre-dinner raccoons... just piles of tail lumped everywhere around his massive middle coil.
His... particularly lumpy middle coil?
“Shiro...” Keith hums, carefully scooting his way across the tail until he can rest a hand on the lumpiest of lumps, “what's this here?”
“Oh!” Shiro brightens immediately, all beaming fangs and twitching tail tip as he winds himself closer to nuzzle Keith's cheek. “I forgot you haven't seen it... that's our egg!”
…
“Our... our what?”
The coils of tail part, revealing a leathery but still gleaming orb smack in the middle. It might be pulsing, or that might be Keith's blood pressure spiking, it's anyone's guess at this point.
“Our egg,” Shiro repeats, reaching out to caress the shell with a hissing croon. “I laid it last night.”
“You... you laid an egg?” Keith wheezes, steadying himself on Shiro's arm before he swoons right off the damn platform. “How the fuck did you lay an egg?”
Shiro blinks at him again – like Keith is being ridiculous but he'll humor him anyway. “Well, I was mostly asleep, but it just kinda-” he makes a gestures down to his vent, like he's pulling it apart, then pops his fist through his other hand, “-slid out.”
“Holy shit.”
They have three dicks. Three dicks and one egg.
“I was surprised too,” Shiro admits, rubbing at his flat-as-ever abs, “I thought maybe the last possum gave me gas... but then there it was.”
“There it is,” Keith echoes in a strangled gurgle, mesmerized by the shimmer across the leathery surface. “Is it, uh... alive?”
Shiro look is so immediately reproachful that Keith kind of wishes he had just flung himself off the platform when he had the chance... but it's a fair question! He knows enough about their chickens to know that these things aren't always... well... eggy.
“Sorry! Sorry, I just... I don't know about this stuff. I didn't even know you could lay eggs.”
“I mentioned it before,” Shiro points out with a petulant huff, coiling tighter around his, no, their, egg like Keith might try to make an omelet right then and there. “I've just never been comfortable enough to do it.”
And that tugs at Keith's heart just a little – knowing that his big snaky man is happier and safer than ever before... that he contributed to making Shiro feel that way. It makes him want to throw his arms around Shiro and never let him go again.
Except...
“So... what do we do with it?”
It turns out a snake can still look sheepish.
“Hatch it?” Shiro half shrugs, drawing his coils closer while lifting the top loop for Keith to get a better look. “If it hatches... it might be a dud.”
Keith bites his tongue – refraining from pointing out that he just asked that and got a death glare for his troubles. “Well, how do we hatch it? Do we take turns? Should I sit on it?” He reaches out the graze the leathery surface with his fingers, frowning went it indents ever so slightly under the pressure. “I think I might crush it.”
His hand promptly gets swatted away by the tip of Shiro's tail, accompanied by a hissing-tut. “Don't poke our egg.”
“I was just seeing!” Keith huffs, scowling at his giant scaly menace as he clutches his hand to his chest. “You don't have to get all mama bear on me.”
“They'll wish I was a bear if anyone bothers our egg,” Shiro grumbles, coiling ever tighter around it – which really doesn't seem to be fair that he can squeeze it but Keith can't even poke it. “Even if it is a dud it's still ours.”
“Right,” Keith soothes him as he rubs a hand down Shiro's back, “you did such a good job laying it, Shiro. Nothing is going to happen to it.”
“Not until we get hungry anyway,” Shiro concedes, mollified for the time being.
“...what?”
Slitted eyes blink at him, again. “You know... if it's a dud.”
Shiro shrugs, like he's not a half snake coiled around their maybe-not-dud-egg, talking about eating it. Like Keith's the crazy one here, with his lack of egg laying and maybe-baby eating.
“I think maybe I'll leave that one to you.” He can't bite back the grimace as he eyes the egg and imagines a giant omelet in its place. “I've never really been a fan of eggs anyway, chickens are grimy.”
“I am cleaner than a chicken,” Shiro points out with an offended sniff, gesturing toward his vent, “See?”
There's not quite anything in the world that Keith would like to do less right now than entertain the comparison of his snake-friend's hole that he's been sticking his dick in, and a chicken's asshole. Maybe he'll just toss himself off the platform to avoid the rest of this conversation.
Except that would leave Shiro to be a potential single snake-parent... or something. Maybe? Do snakes even co-parent? Is Shiro expecting this egg to hatch and slither off into the sunset? Should he tell his mom that she might be a grand-snake-mother?
“I think I might need to sit down,” Keith wheezes out, his head spinning as he contemplates his scaly future.
“You're already sitting,” Shiro supplies with a wriggle of the section of tail under Keith's butt – ever helpful. “But you're looking sick...” He brings one clawed hand up to rest against Keith's forehead with a frown, then drops it low to press against his abdomen. “You're not going to lay an egg too, are you?”
“Gods below I hope not...”
One egg is stressful enough... he doesn't know how his parents handled this. Did his dad sit on the egg too? Krolia doesn't even look big enough to lay an egg... but then again, neither did Shiro, and here they are. Honestly, he doesn't even know where to start – what do you even do with an egg? It's not like he has to feed and water it or anything like that... but it'll probably get cold up here, and maybe lonely? Can eggs get lonely? Do eggs know they're alone?
“Should we move it down to the nest?” he asks, for lack of a better question, “It's warmer down there with all the blankets and the heated floor...”
“Yeeessss!” Shiro crows in approval, bringing his hand back up to stroke Keith's cheek with a claw, “Such a smart mate... so good to our egg.”
He loops two coils around the egg and shimmies them over to the edge of the platform, nearly crowding Keith off entirely, then he grasps the wooden edge with his claws, loops the end of his tail around one of the rafters, and carefully – gingerly lowers the loop to the ground until the egg is nestled in blankets far below.
It's Keith's turn to blink at him, vaguely peeved as he squints down at the egg.
“You couldn't have done that before? I've been alone down there missing you for like a day and a half.”
“I was sssleepy,” Shiro whines, crossing his arms as he brings his coil back up sans egg. “Laying an egg is hard work... I don't see you doing it.”
“Next time,” Keith grunts, shaking his head as he grabs the rope ladder and shimmies back down to the floor, eager to get his feet on the ground before his snake-friend decides to push him off in some weird hormonal fit. “Let's just get through this one, okay?”
He takes the flicker of a tongue against his cheek as agreement as Shiro slithers down after him, wrapping himself around their egg once more. It doesn't look like he intends to move anytime soon, but it's certainly easier to keep an eye on him when he's not hanging out in the rafters.
“Soooo,” Keith drawls as he crawls into the nest to curl up around them both, “Are you hungry? I haven't seen you come down to eat since you went up there before the egg.”
“Famished,” Shiro whines, turning his enormously rounded pupils on Keith in what is probably supposed to be puppyish, but instead makes his hindbrain scream that he's going to be dinner next if he isn't careful. “I missed the sssteeeew.”
“I know, love.” It was delicious too, but Keith isn't going to rub salt in the wound. “I think Kolivan was making more rabbit stew tonight though, I can go grab you a bowl and bring it back?”
“Two bowls.” Shiro pouts harder, patting his flat stomach where it disappears into scales. “And bread... and a bowl... for the egg.”
Lips pursed to suppress his smile, Keith nods solemnly. “For the egg.”
He's nearly slipped into the hallway when he hears the whiny hiss, “And a bunny!”
The bunny might be pushing it, Kolivan doesn't usually have any whole rabbits leftover after he makes the stew, but Shiro did just lay an egg, so it can't hurt to check.
Slinking into the kitchen is the easy part, most of their ragtag mercenary band is in the mess area already eating their fill, and it's not uncommon for Keith or Shiro to be missing from the usual mealtimes.
Juggling four bowls is a little bit harder.
There are trays on top of the cabinets that Kolivan uses to bring the larger kettles out for the blades to serve themselves... but the cabinets were built for someone Kolivan's size, and Keith is... not.
But he has always been a decent climber – which is why he nearly breaks his neck when someone clears their throat behind him, startling him from his precarious foothold on the counter ledge as he stretches up toward the edge of the trays.
“Lad... what are you doing?” Kolivan rumbles from behind him, one hand covering his eyes as Ulaz tries valiantly to fight down a smirk.
“Nothing,” Keith grunts back automatically, trying his best to keep his death grip on the cabinet handle in case it swings open under his weight. “Can I help you?”
“Can we help you?” Ulaz sighs, shuffling forward until he can plant a steadying hand on Keith's back. “Please don't break your neck, your mother would kill us.”
“M'fine.”
“...right.” The hand eases off his back as Ulaz shrugs and steps away, letting the cabinet door wobble precariously. “Well in that case...”
“Wait!” Keith yelps as it starts to swing open, scooting his feet until just his toes cling to the edge of the counter. “Ulaz!”
Kolivan huffs out a chuckle and plucks him off the counter like he weighs no more than a kitten, plopping him back onto the floor with little fanfare. “Did you need the tray?”
Mulish, Keith pouts at the floor. “I could've gotten it.”
“Of course you could have.” It's an obvious placation, made worse by the ruffle of his hair as Kolivan pulls the tray down without even stretching. “Is that all?”
It's not, and despite the fact that Keith was trying for subtlety, it seems a bit pointless now. “Can you get me down four bowls too?”
“Four?” Ulaz's eyebrows raise nearly toward his hairline. “Is Shiro sick?”
“Err, well... not sick,” Keith hedges, shuffling toward the pot of stew as Kolivan hands him the bowls without comment. “Are there any rabbits left over? And bread?”
“There's a bit of meat,” Kolivan sighs as he trudges over to the ice chest and pulls out half a hare. “Would he prefer it left outside the stew?”
“I guess so?” Keith shrugs, grimacing at the dangling, drippy carcass. “I certainly don't want that in my bowl.”
“If he's not sick, is he preparing for rut again?” Ulaz presses on, side-eyeing the gruesome dinner, “Has he been particularly lethargic? Aggressive? Territorial?”
“He's, uh-” Keith falters, he's never been a great liar if his life doesn't literally depend on it, “I mean... he... sure is snaky?”
Ulaz's eyes narrow, like he can smell the eggy lies on Keith.
“You know, lad... I had overheard some interesting things about Shiro's change while we were in the manor, and I would hate to be caught off guard by any potential illness or... other surprises.”
There is sweat beading at Keith's hairline now – and more pooling in the backs of his knees. For a brief moment he wonders if he can outrun them both while carrying a tray full of soup and dead rabbit... but of course they know where he lives.
“Weeeelllll-” he shuffles to the side, fingers curling into the tray as he hefts it and takes a step toward the hallway, “-he might've uh... done something interesting but we're not sure if it's um... interesting interesting. So... I'll keep you posted?”
He throws them his best charming grin and edges another step backward, cringing as Ulaz passes a hand over his face with a wheeze.
“Gods below... lad, if it starts to wriggle let us know, alright?”
“If what starts to wriggle?” Kolivan asks, brow furrowed.
“Don't worry about it yet,” Ulaz sighs as he rubs his temples, “I'm too old for this...”
Keith takes that as his cue to shuffle away as fast as he can, hoping that he melts through the floor before having to explain to Kolivan what exactly might've happened. He gets all the way to the door before realizing that he's got no hands, and the tray is so big he can't quite kick a foot out to knock the door without overbalancing.
“Shiro!” he hisses into the otherwise quiet hallway, hoping that Regris or any of the others don't stumble on him and ask any prying questions, “Let me in!”
There's a quiet rasp of scales from the other side before the door clicks open to reveal his looming mate – all parted fangs and pooling saliva. “A bunny!”
“Hold on!” Keith scolds him as one clawed hand reaches for the carcass, “Let me put it down before you throw off the balance and we're eating soup from the floor.”
Shiro hisses out the world's longest sigh but does as he's asked, sinking back into a pouty knot in their nest. “You were gone forever.”
“You hid up there for like two days,” Keith retorts as he sets the trays down with a groan of relief.
“I laid an egg.”
The triumphant finger jabbed toward the glimmering lump in his coils reminds Keith that he has already lost every argument for the foreseeable future.
“You did,” Keith concedes as he pinches the carcass between two fingers and passes it over with the first bowl of stew. “I'm very proud of you.”
Preening, Shiro unhinges his jaw and delicately snaps the dangling meat from Keith's fingers before accepting the bowl with a little burp. “Thanksss.”
It must say something about his love for this giant ridiculous reptile that Keith doesn't even bat an eyelash before turning to grab his own bowl to settle against Shiro's coils. “Careful, it's hot.” He expects the scoff – and the whine that follows when Shiro doesn't bother to blow on the first sip of his bowl. “I told you.”
“Hmph.”
The scaly tail tip flicks a droplet of soup at Keith. He elects to ignore it.
Shiro did just lay an egg after all.
“Want me to blow on it for you?” he asks instead.
“That's what you asked before we made the egg,” Shiro teases, hiss-chortling at his own joke as his tail tip nudges Keith in the ribs.
Keith loves him so much. Enough to blow on his soup even after his terrible jokes.
“Here... all better.” He hands the bowl back, gratified by the way Shiro slurps it down without pause – less so by the way the subsequent belch rattles through the section of tail he's leaning against. “Cute.”
“Thankssss,” Shiro winks at him before stretching to snatch up his second bowl, dipping a finger in it first this time before sucking it down as fast as the first.
“I thought that one was for the egg,” Keith teases him as Shiro eyes the last bowl, “Aren't you gonna dunk it in there?”
The scandalized hiss is almost worth being smacked by a tail tip again.
“Keith! We can't make egg soup with our egg!”
“I was kidding!” Keith laughs, covering his head as the tip continues to flail at him with a vengeance, “No omelets!”
“HMPH!”
“Just eat your soup, I know you're hungry.”
It doesn't take much convincing for Shiro to dart out an arm and grab the last bowl, snatching a hunk of bread along with it to dunk.
“I need more food to keep the egg warm,” he rationalizes through a full bite as he pats at his coils, “or my tail will be too skinny to protect it.”
“Sure, Shiro.” Smothering his smile in his bowl is easier than hiding his adoring tone. Giant, ridiculous snake. “I'll make sure to eat a little more too, so I've got more cushioning when it's my turn to hug it.”
“Mmm... more cushioning,” Shiro hums, eyes drifting down to where Keith's butt is still planted on him. “Yes.”
The bowls never make it back to the kitchen that night, much to Kolivan's consternation, and they drift off in a big cuddly pile – just a boy, his giant snake, and their weird leathery maybe-baby-egg. It becomes the new normal after that, the two of them holing up in their room, never leaving the egg alone while one or the other ventures out to fetch food and wash up. They're almost certainly suspicious as all hell, but he's pretty sure his mom has threatened to cut off Regris's tail if he so much as goes sniffing around their doorstep.
Not that he'd make it past Shiro if he decided to poke his head in – even Kolivan has been giving their room a wide berth since Shiro nearly gave him a matching scar on reflex.
He knocks extra loud now, just in case.
The weeks pass like this – quiet, easy, full of the bonding moments that remind Keith why he's decided to tie his fate to this big silly reptile in the first place. And then in the quiet of the morning on the seventh week, Shiro jostles him awake.
Rude.
“Knock it off,” he grumbles, digging his thumb into one of the scales below his cheek. “M'tryna sleep.”
He gets a hissing snort for his troubles, a tail-flick right to his ear.
“You sssstop,” Shiro wheezes back, all pouty slitted squint as he glowers at Keith from his own coil pillow.
“You're the one who hit me first!” Keith protests, batting the tail away like a gnat, “Don't give me those puppy-snake eyes.”
“I didn't!” Shiro is indignant now, drawing himself up like he does when he's trying to intimidate the particularly ferocious possums. “You woke me up!”
Keith opens his mouth to retort, but he's nudged again, and jabs a finger at the pile of coils. “Aha!”
“That was you,” Shiro insists, wriggling Keith's coil bed for emphasis.
And... come to think of it... it didn't quite feel like-
Another rustle, the tiniest of wiggles, has Keith twisting around in Shiro's coils to stare at the glimmering lump nestled safely between them.
“Shiro-”
“Keith!”
The egg gives another lurch, and their whole world shifts with it.