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He was used to Keith falling asleep on him, but back then Keith had been a teenager and Shiro in a serious relationship. It didn't mean anything beyond "he came over to ask for help with his homework or to eat takeout with us and it got late."
Keith's not a teenager anymore, though.
It's late, they just got back from a mission, Keith's fallen asleep against his shoulder, and something in Shiro catches as he realizes just how warm Keith is. Has he always felt this warm? When he was younger he'd tuck himself under Shiro's arm, like a blanket, but their arms are side by side now.
So are their hands.
I've known him since he was a teenager, he thinks, but he can't reconcile the troubled adolescent with stormclouds in his eyes with the battle-ready young man who rescued him from the Garrison hospital and took to Red like a duck to water. He's more fiery, determined...still not great around other people, but more willing to try than he used to be.
Keith leans closer to him in his sleep, and his heart races in a way it hasn't in a long time. This feels good-it feels right, even. The boy who used to fall asleep tucked under his arm or across his lap seems like a far-off dream, this is...
Something I could get used to, he thinks as Keith's hand unconsciously slides closer to his. Without a second thought, Shiro takes it, stroking the heel with the pad of his thumb.
In his sleep, Keith smiles. Shiro smiles back, brushing stray black locks away from his face.
"Goodnight, Keith."