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Pico’s never been the touchy-feely type. Ever. And that is something that will never change.
He will always hate when his shoulders brush against someone else’s, when fingers accidentally meet.
Hell, if he were to be honest here — he’d most likely flip if he even felt someone’s breath graze his skin.
So why is he letting Keith cuddle him? Simple.
He has absolutely no fucking clue.
He does know, though, that he didn’t exactly mind this contact.
And oddly enough, he wanted more of it, so a hand that had it’s own separate consciousness began to run along the smaller’s spine.
He feels Keith laugh against him. “What’re you doing?”
Pico frowns, flushing. “That’s what I should be asking you.”
“Twenty minutes later?” He peeks up, tilting his head to the side. Pico snorts.
“Better late than never.”
The smile Keith shoots him is sickeningly sweet. He returns back to his position, this time cheek meeting stomach, and as Pico continues to pet him he can’t help but feel like he’s got a cat clinging onto him, rather than his boyfriend.
“Cuddling you,” he says simply, “because you’re warm and you let me.”
“I did not—“
“Did too. And you still are!”
Pico goes quiet. His face is practically on fire. Just who did this guy think he is...?
“…You’re gettin’ real cocky nowadays,” he opts to grumble, to which Keith shrugs his shoulders.
“Well, I mean~” He buries his face into Pico’s middle, which is quickly corrected via a hard pinch to the cheek.
“Ow! Hell!”
“See?” Pico hums, letting a half-smirk quirk his lips. “Cocky.”
“I’ll get even cockier if you don’t treat me right!”
“Tch, if anything I’ve been spoiling your ass.”
Keith’s pout is halfhearted. He stops rubbing his cheek to grasp Pico’s own by forefinger and thumb.
“Ten more minutes.”
Pico’s stare is unwavering. “Two.”
“Eight?”
“Get off of me, Keith.”
Keith groans, rolling lazily onto his side, and allowing Pico free reign. His body still feels all warm and tingly from his presence, but having his legs back is better than having Keith completely render them immobile.
Pico turns to watch the aforesaid complain idly into his pillow. The only parts Pico catches are “asshole” and “not a good enough replacement”.
He sighs.
“Later. You can get back on later.”
Keith’s head shoots up scarily fast. He turns to Pico with the grin of a literal child. “Really?!”
Pico frowns, flustered. “Yes, really, damn it.”
Keith moves closer. Pico firmly puts out a hand.
“Hug me and the deal’s off.”
Keith loops his fingers through Pico’s spread ones in lieu. “Eh, this’ll do.”
Pico rolls his eyes.
Don’t get him wrong, he still very much so hated contact. Any contact, a lot of contact.
But Keith gets special privileges, Pico offhandedly decides, squeezing his hand with earnest.