Work Text:
Soft.
Being here with Keefe laced itself with a soft…
Fitz’s mind stumbled to a blank when thinking of any other word to describe this.
Everything before blurred into the hidden curls of Keefe's dirty blonde hair now traced by Fitz’s fingers. Something about meeting Keefe in the severely under-funded yet homey art room to pick him up before the date so they could walk together.
The only thing Fitz could fully process though was “date”. That’s what this moment was a part of: a date. Their date.
After years and years of longing glances during smiles shared between friends, hours of over-thinking an accidental hand brushs in the hallways, seconds where his heartbeat could murder him, and countless moments that got ignored because Fitz couldn’t afford to lose this friendship, Fitz somehow got a date with Keefe.
And they were kissing.
Behind the records in a shop where their hands hesitantly danced around each other’s while smiles followed by a slight giggle were shared over antiquated album covers not minutes ago, they were kissing.
And it was soft.
Everything about Keefe was soft.
A grandmother-approved, old cardigan loosely hung around his elbows while his fingers slowly found their way onto the lower parts of Fitz’s waist. They were gentle and held on a second longer than they needed to; they wanted Fitz there.
Keefe wanted Fitz there.
If his fingers slowly grabbing more and more of the orange overalls he’d found in his sister’s closet didn't allude to that, his shoes did.
Their height was generally the same, Fitz being slightly taller, and it wasn’t noticeable enough, most of the time. Now, however, Keefe’s weight pressed onto the tips of the smudged, blue converse that were in surprisingly good shape considering their age, and his legs were starting to shake.
Fitz couldn’t quite bring himself to stop kissing Keefe, though. He’d waited too long for this exact moment, and he’d be damned if the dizziness starting to dance around in his head took the softness away.
Keefe’s soft curls. His soft overalls. The soft place their lips hadn’t stopped touching for what felt like hours now. Their softness. Sharinging this moment in time together, they were a they, and Fitz couldn’t let that feeling go yet.
As Keefe’s heels went back towards the ground, Fitz started to lean down so the kiss wouldn’t stop.
White dots with a greenish-yellow haze swarmed behind his eyelids and a cramp straining his neck followed. All of it together caused them to stop sooner than he’d like.
And they both just stood there, out of breath..
Looking at each other didn't seem to help much at all.
Shelves with records of every color imaginable poked out their heads in mockery at how speechless Fitz remained. Fitz didn’t notice anything besides the blonde boy who’s blue eyes hid behind bangs -that if they’d ever been brushed didn’t show it- with one thought on his mind: What could he say?
He wanted to do it again, desperately, but the words couldn’t quite find their way out of his head. Instead he stared blankly into an album cover right behind Keefe.
Ironic they were in a shop surrounded by the words of songs, yet Fitz couldn’t bring himself to say anything.
He wanted to do it again, desperately, but he wasn’t the only one there
“Earth to Fitz?” Keefe chuckled, brushing his fingers through his bangs enough to make their eyes lock.
“Hmm?” Several thoughts stayed bubbling on the edge of Fitz’s tongue, but nothing besides that small phrase could quite reach his lips.
You ok?” Keefe started, “and before you say something like ‘I’m fine’, I can tell when you’re lying.” The sharp yet testing edge of Keefe’s words didn’t match his fingers gently wrapping around Fitz’s.
“I just-.” Fitz tried to take a calming breath that didn’t do anything. “Did you regret that? I really really enjoyed it and based on your body language I think you did too, and I really want to do it again, but if you don’t then-”
“So then do it.” Keefe cut him off, lacing the inside of their fingers together.
A pause the music didn’t quite catch passed through them.
“What?”
Keefe stepped a distance away from Fitz that’d only ever been a dream, giving the cocky grin he’d fallen in love with.
“I said, do it again, Fitzy.”
And he did.
A different soft swirled it’s way into this kiss. Instead of Keefe’s soft curls and well-loved sweater, a calming feeling flapped on the butterflies gathering is Fitz’s stomach wings’ rhythmically to their racing hearts.
It was only the second time they’d been here, but this felt like the soft feeling of having someone who loved you unconditionally smile when you unlocked the front door. Keefe’s lips felt like the softness of a home.
They pulled apart and browsed around for a few more hours. Although their covers were entertaining and he liked some of the songs he could read, Fitz couldn’t stop his brain from focusing on how Keefe didn’t stop holding his hand once. His fingers weren’t quite as soft as his lips, but they made Fitz’s heart pound every time there was a slight movement, which was often as they walked all around the shop and back.
When he got home, Fitz couldn't quite get the feeling of Keefe’s fingers gently squeezing his palm when they had to go to their respective houses for the evening off his hands when he layed down to sleep. Nor could he get Keefe’s lips out of his head no matter how many hours into the night his thoughts lead him to.
He didn’t want to.