Archive of Our Own ^beta

"Would you want to do a couples costume this year?" Shiro asks Keith. They’ve been sitting on the couch an hour since they woke up, neither of them quite ready to start the day. Shiro’s had this question on the tip of his tongue for at least fifty nine of those sixty minutes, sipping his coffee and trying to work up the courage to mention it. “You know for Lance and Allura’s party next weekend.”

He knows Keith isn't normally a costume kind of guy usually but he also suspects Keith would dress up for him.

"We don't have to," Shiro hurries when the silence stretches on, nervously rubbing his thumb over Keith's ankle. He wants to, quite a lot, but he doesn’t want Keith to do anything he’s not comfortable with.

"What kind of costume did you have in mind?" Keith asks, stretching his legs out further into Shiro's lap.

"I don't know," Shiro lies, heart thundering in his chest.

He does know what he wants to be but he has no idea how to bring it up. He’s also not sure how to work it as a couples costume to make the suggestion seem more casual but that’s a problem for later. For now he’s got the hardest part out—asking.

"We could go to the Halloween store after work tonight," Keith suggests, wiggling his toes against Shiro's tummy.

In Keith language this is a go. Even though Shiro expected Keith might say yes, the verbal confirmation has Shiro’s heart racing. He can picture it already—the weight of against his throat, how Keith’s fingers might fasten it.

“You okay?” Keith asks, demeanor rapidly shifting as he jabs his bony toe into Shiro’s belly.

“I’m good just a little bit warm,” Shiro tries tugging at the collar of his hoodie. “Is it just me or is the heater running extra hard?”

Keith purses his lips seriously. “I could contact maintenance if you think it’s broken.”

“That’s not necessary,” Shiro insists, hoping he’s not as in the face red as he feels.

Judging by the little furrow between Keith’s eyebrows Shiro probably is and Keith has probably noticed. He’s good at noticing things about Shiro, even the ones he doesn’t notice himself.

“So, I was gonna run some errands across town. I could take you to work today,” Shiro offers, not all subtly changing the subject.

“Yeah? You wouldn’t mind?” Keith questions, as if Shiro wouldn’t happily drive all the way across town errands or not just for a few extra minutes with Keith. Then again because he’s Keith he probably doesn’t know. Somehow the world managed to convince Keith he was too much and not enough all at once. It’s inconceivable to Shiro since Keith is basically the most incredible, smart, loyal, funny person to ever exist. Keith doesn’t seem to believe Shiro when he says this but maybe one day he will. Until then Shiro doesn’t mind reminding him.

“Yeah, coarse,” Shiro tells him, sliding his palm up Keith’s leg beneath his pajama pants to give his calf a squeeze. “There’s a coupon on The Habit app for two for five shakes. If we leave now we could run by and get you a strawberry one when they open.”

“Now you’re speaking my language,” Keith says, the lines on his face relaxing.

The only thing Keith loves more than Shiro is food.

It’s a knowledge Shiro tries not to exploit but at the moment he desperately needs Keith to not be focused on his current nerves. Besides, Shiro could go for some liquid courage in the form of a cookies and cream shake with extra whipped cream.

They don’t mention the costumes again as they get ready or on the drive across town. Once he’s dropped Keith off at the mechanic and he’s alone, its all Shiro can think about.

Eager to keep his mind busy on his day off Shiro spends the day running all of their errands and getting things ready for the week. He does the grocery shopping, all the laundry, cleans the apartment and pittles around looking for anything else that needs to be done. By the time five o'clock rolls around Shiro's meal prepped both their lunches for the week, made two freezer meals for this weekend when they’ll both be working late and reorganized the pantry to set up snack boxes for Keith to take to work since Keith forgets to eat unless the food is visible and easy to grab.

He's also worked his way through two pots of coffee and an entire pack of gum when he gets a text from Keith during his break

lance has to get something for the party and offered me a ride to the halloween store so i'll meet you there at 6:30

Shiro taps on the screen to reply but another message pops up.

love you, don’t forget to actually rest today

Shiro doesn’t bother asking how Keith knows he’s not resting on his one day of, instead shooting off a love you more, text with several heart emojis. Shiro recently saw a tik tok that said the emojis are cringe but the idea of sending Keith an i love you without extra hearts so he knows just how much feels wrong. Honestly Shiro’s just happy to be alive and have made it to twenty nine. If some emojis reveal his age, so be it.

Keith doesn’t respond but Shiro doesn’t expect him to. He knows how busy the shop is on Monday’s and the fact that Keith took the time to text him at all when he’s probably been too busy to even eat or piss means a lot.

Shiro spends an embarrassing number of minutes staring at the i love you from Keith on his phone screen. They only said it the first time a few weeks ago and Shiro’s been euphoric since.

A quick check of the time shows Shiro he’s got another two hours before he technically needs to be at the Halloween store.

See you at 6:30 he texts, adding on his favorite smiley face emoji.

No sooner has he sent the text then he waffles. A couples costume is cute and maybe that’s all it needs to be. He doesn’t need to go making it awkward with his own weird fantasy. He’s ignored it for this long when he was single, he doesn’t need to ruin the best relationship he’s ever had by bringing up something like this.

Yeah, Shiro thinks, he should keep things cute. Expected. Normal.

He doesn’t wanna do anything to freak Keith out or make him regret telling Shiro he loves him. Things are amazing between them but they’re still new. New enough Shiro’s afraid he might fuck up the best thing he’s ever had with the best friend he’s ever had.

Shiro can’t lose Keith, but he can ignore his own desires.

Resolving himself to keep it easy and chill, Shiro plops on the couch and flips on the tv—finishing last week's episode of Andor while polishing off the rest of the package of double stuffed oreos.

By the time he needs to leave the apartment he’s just about convinced himself that he can do this. Once he’s pulling into the parking lot he knows he can.

Halloween is one of Shiro’s favorite holidays—costumes, candy and his friends.

And Keith.

Keith is definitely the best part of the holiday.

Then again Keith’s the best part of any day. Or night. Or anything really. Shiro’s maybe biased but he’s also been in love with Keith for two years—ever since Lance introduced them as potential roommates when he ditched Keith to move in with Allura. What had started as a roommate agreement born out of a mutual friend and convenience had blossomed into the closest friendship of Shiro’s entire life and more—well at least for Shiro. He’d been sure it was just him but a few months ago during a group camping trip when he and Keith had shared a tent there’d been a few beers around the camp fire and a need to share sleeping bags to stay warm and well, things had kind of spiraled from there.

Now they’re boyfriends and in love and Shiro’s the happiest man alive.

Keith’s different. Special. According to Keith it took a long time to mention his feelings and Shiro is trying so hard to be patient, to not be overeager. It’s just that he is—eager that is. Especially when he sees Keith being dropped off outside the Halloween store—mechanic coveralls undone and tied around his waist and a smidge of grease on his cheek.

“Keith!” Shiro yells, sprinting across the parking lot at record speed.

“Hey there handsome,” Keith grins, hooking his thumbs into the belt loops of his coveralls. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

“You just saw me this morning,” Shiro points out.

“What can I say—I like the view,” Keith laughs, reaching out to twist his fingers around the hoodie strings of Shiro’s sweatshirt and giving it a tug until Shiro lowers himself into a kissing position. “Good boy.”

Shiro’s eyes nearly roll into the back of his head, his footing unsteady as he crashes his lips into Keith’s with enough force that Shiro has to grab his hips to stop him tipping over.

“Damn,” Keith whistles when Shiro pulls back. “What brought that on?”

“Sorry,” Shiro blushes.

“Sorry is definitely not necessary. On the contrary, let me know what I did so I can do it again.”

He grins, the little dimple in his left cheek barely visible. He’s devastatingly handsome.

“Just missed you,” Shiro answers, reasoning that this is not actually a lie. He always misses Keith.

“Sap,” Keith snorts, but his cheeks pink enough for Shiro to know he’s pleased.

The knowledge does something funny to Shiro who finds the idea of pleasing Keith more and more alluring lately—to the point of being distracting. Not that this is new exactly, Shiro has always enjoyed making Keith happy. It’s just that lately the desire to impress him, to earn his praise or make him happy, has taken on a sharper edge.

Lately when Keith looks at Shiro’s stomach swoops like the first time he went on a roller coaster with loops except this time he feels like someone left him hanging upside down. It’s thrilling and scary and Shiro’s heart beats faster just thinking about it—about Keith.

“Ready to head inside?” Keith asks, jerking his thumb towards the door.

“Sure,” Shiro replies, grabbing the handle to hold the door open for him..

“Such a gentleman. Are you angling for a prince charming costume—because I gotta be honest I’m not really into being a princess or a frog.”

“A prince wasn’t exactly what I had in mind,” Shiro answers without thinking about the implications of this statement.

“Oh, what did you have in mind?” Keith asks.

“Uh,” Shiro starts following Keith inside.

Immediately he’s met with a larger than life animated clown that makes the hair at the back of his neck stand up. He attempts to move around it away from the foot panel on the ground that will activate the automation but before he can a little kid is running between Shiro and Keith to gleefully jump on it.

There’s a two second delay where Shiro thinks maybe it’s broken and he won’t have to witness the horror in front of him moving but then the massive clown jerks, its eyes glowing as the body pitches forward. Shiro might be nearly as tall as the damn clown but watching the head move gives him flashbacks to being much smaller and equally terrified of clowns.

“Shiro, look at me,” Keith instructs, stepping into Shiro’s line of sight and lifting both his hands so they rest on Shiro’s cheeks—guiding his face down so he’s looking at Keith and not the creepy animatronic clow.

“I don’t like clowns,” Shiro whispers, embarrassed at the way his voice trembles.

“I know you don’t, sweetheart,” Keith soothes without judgment, stroking the arch of Shiro’s cheek.

Keith surges up onto tiptoes and pressed his lips to Shiro’s—the buzz of pleasure kissing Keith invokes drowning out the automated clown voice until Shiro forgets his fear—forgets everything except the taste of Keith.

“Excuse you ,” someone says, voice uncomfortably stern. “Get a room.”

“Fuck off,” Keith replies without looking at them, curling his arm around Shiro’s waist to slip his hand into the back pocket of Shiro’s jeans and grab his ass.

Shiro’s too pleased at the fingers giving his ass a squeeze to pay attention to the woman grumbling behind them or care about the clown. All he cares about is Keith snickering into the top of Keith’s hair as Keith guides them towards the back of the store.

“You’re a menace,” Shiro tells him once they’re far enough away from other people.

“Like you don’t fucking love it,” Keith retorts smugly.

“I do,” Shiro answers, stopping short. “I love you. So much, Keith.”

Keith’s not usually one to blush but he does now, the swell of his sharp cheekbones turning a rosy pink as he turns his body into Shiro’s—pressing a kiss to the hollow of Shiro’s throat. “If you keep being your perfect self I'm not gonna be able to keep my hands off you.”

“That’s…that’s okay,” Shiro stutters, wishing he’d worn looser pants when Keith presses an open mouth kiss to his neck.

“You’d probably let me do anything wouldn't you?” Keith asks him, looking at Shiro with an unreadable expression.

Heat floods Shiro’s body. Keith’s not wrong.

Before Keith Shiro thought maybe he just wasn’t as into sex as other people, now he wonders if you can be a sex addict. He wants Keith all the time. Everywhere. In every way.

He’s also developed an embarrassing desire for pda so people know he’s Keith’s. So yeah—he probably would let Keith do anything. He just can’t say that out loud. Not with strangers mulling around them.

“Wow look there’s the couples costumes,” Shiro diverts, pointing at the wall behind Keith.

“Okay,” Keith says, taking the subject change with ease. He turns on his heels, reaching a hand back without looking as if he knows Shiro will take it. He does, eagerly, eyes on the slide of his much larger fingers between Keith’s.

They’ve been together officially for a few months but Shiro knows he won’t ever tire of the way Keith’s hand looks in his. His fingers are so much smaller, leaner—but the strength in them—the depth of things Keith is capable of—make Shiro’s heart swell with longing and pride.

“Follow me,” Keith says, giving Shiro’s hand a squeeze. “Baby.”

Shiro huffs, still unused to the endearment and a little embarrassed by how he reacts to it every time. If Keith has noticed he hasn’t said anything but Keith notices most things.

Once they get closer to the wall of couples themed costumes Keith begins naming them out loud—peanut butter & jelly, two halves of an Oreo, two plugs, avocado and toast—but Shiro finds it hard to focus, eyes automatically drifting to other areas of the store.

“Are the animatronics bothering you?” Keith asks, moving more firmly into Shiro’s personal space. “We can look for costumes at target or online instead if they are,” Keith adds.

“I’m alright,” Shiro tells him, and it’s not a lie. This far away he can pretend it’s a silly sound effects machine and not an oversized nightmare. That and the clown isn’t all that’s got him distracted. “Did you know you’re cute when you look ready to fight the ten foot clown.”

Keith rolls his eyes but the corner of his mouth quirks up. “That’s me, clown fighter extraordinaire.”

“You do know that can’t fight everything that scares me,” Shiro tells him seriously.

“Fucking watch me,” Keith says, equally serious.

Shiro isn’t sure how to respond so he settles for kissing the top of Keith’s head, nuzzling into his hair and breathing him in.

“I stink,” Keith points out.

“Maybe I like it,” Shiro mumbles, refusing to admit that before they got together Shiro had been pining so hard that he once found himself wandering a tire shop because the smell reminded him of Keith.

“Heathen,” Keith says fondly. “You know if none of the couples costumes interest you we could just look around at non themed ones.”

“I want you to like it too,” Shiro says. “It’s not just what I like.”

“Fun fact, I like anything we do together. You know I’m not picky. As long as you don’t put me in something itchy I’m down for whatever you have in mind.” Keith turns, twisting their joined hands to bring it up to his mouth as he kisses Shiro’s metal knuckles.

Keith is all rough and tumble—sharp edges and a prickly demeanor for most people.

But Shiro—Shiro gets the soft side. It makes him want to cry sometimes to see how gentle Keith is with him. How much Keith trusts him to let all his walls down.

“You do,” Keith continues, kissing each of Shiro’s fingers.

“Do what?” Shiro asks, shocked at the hitch in his breathing.

“Have something in mind. You do don’t you?”

Keith brings Shiro’s metal wrist up to his lips, bestowing a chaste kiss there as he waits for an answer.

One ce again Shiro is taken aback by Keith’s keen observational skills. Sometimes it feels like he can read Shiro’s mind but Shiro knows the truth. It’s not luck. It’s care.

Keith cares about Shiro. He watches. He pays attention.

He understands Shiro, even when Shiro can hardly understand himself. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to share what’s on his mind. And if it is bad Shiro has the luxury of playing it off as a costume.

Keith won’t know that it’s more. He won’t know that there’s something else about this particular costume that Shiro longs for—that he craves.

If things go south Shiro can laugh it away as a silly Halloween novelty. He can simply hide away the desire like he’s been doing for the last few years since he realized it was something he might one day want. With someone.

With the right person.

With Keith

"We might as well browse some other sections," Shiro agrees, which is about as close as he is going to get to spelling it in neon letters.

"Sounds good. Lead the way big guy," Keith grins, giving Shiro's ass another squeeze.

Lead the way he does, down every aisle they don't need including blow up costumes, period costumes, and horror costumes.

If Keith is curious about why Shiro seems to be looking at every single item in the store, or why they wander for nearly an hour he says nothing. Keith's stomach on the other hand speaks for him, grumbling loudly as they round the center aisles full of creepy spider-covered dolls that Shiro doesn't want to look at.

"We should go," Shiro sighs, feeling guilty that his inability to maneuver them in the direction he really wants has left Keith hungry.

"I'm fine, baby," Keith tries, looping his arm around Shiro's middle.

"No, it's way past dinner. I left food in the crock pot for us."

"Aw, baby, you cooked me dinner?" Keith grins. “Thank you.”

The thanks are wholly unnecessary since Shiro pretty much always cooks, partly because his hours as a PhD student make it easier compared to Keith's at the auto shop, but mostly because Shiro really, really likes cooking for Keith.

"It's just the crock pot," Shiro shrugs.

"You say that like every single thing you make me isn't ten thousand times better than anything we could get out," Keith says, slipping a hand under Shiro's hoodie to lay his palm at the flat of Shiro's lower back. Shiro exhales, loving when Keith gets extra handsy like this.

"I made that thing you like with the ravioli and cream cheese,” Shiro says, leaning his weight back against Keith’s hand.

"Fuck yes, I love that thing. You're so good to me," Keith smiles, as if Shiro's offered him a gourmet meal and not a dump-everything-in-the-crock-pot-recipe he stumbled upon once that turned out to be one of Keith's favorites.

"It's nothing," Shiro mumbles, unsure how come he is unable to accept the exact kind of praise he so desperately wants. A psychologist would have a field day with him. Especially if they knew what costume Shiro was eyeing.

"So, home for dinner?" Shiro tries, but Keith's not paying attention because he's too busy staring at the far wall opposite the registers.

The wall Shiro was just discreetly looking at.

The wall Keith wasn't supposed to notice he was paying attention to.

Fuck.

“We missed that section,” Keith says in a casual enough way that it could be true. “I wanna look over there.”

Shiro suspects he’s phrasing it this way because he knows Shiro won’t protest if it’s something Keith wants but he doesn’t say it out loud, instead following him to the wall of costume accessories near the exit.

“Lots of stuff here,” Keith tries, and though his face is turned toward the pegged wall he’s unmistakably watching Shiro out of the corner of his eyes.

“Uh huh,” Shiro agrees, eyes darting everywhere except the item in question.

“Could be anything really with this stuff. Animal ears, wings, masks, horns.”

“Lots of stuff,” Shiro agrees, his own gaze traveling dangerously close to the corner.

“I never did the Halloween thing growing up,” Keith says conversationally, and though Shiro knows this he appreciates when Keith opens up about his childhood just the same. It’s not easy for him.

“We don’t have to dress up if you don’t want to. It’s silly,” Shiro tells him, sometimes worrying Keith might agree to something just to make Shiro happy. “I know it’s not your thing because you didn’t dress up for the party last year.”

“We weren’t together last year,” Keith says softly.

“Exactly, I don’t want you to feel like you have to do something just for me.”

“I would,” Keith interjects. “Do it for you.”

“But—“

“No buts,” Keith frowns. “That’s what being with someone is about—compromise and trying new things and…and doing things together.”

“Things you’re comfortable doing,” Shiro argues..

This time it’s his turn to lift Keith’s hand, pressing a kiss to the back of Keith’s calloused knuckles.

“I’ve never done this before,” Keith admits, breathing hitching when Shiro kisses his wrist.

“Which part?”

Keith breathes harshly through his nose. “Dressed up for Halloween or loved someone.”

It’s Keith so this level of candor shouldn’t be surprising and yet it’s hard for Shiro not to be surprised by how honest and vulnerable Keith often is with him, especially in unexpected moments. For a boy so terrified of being loved he sure lets Shiro see his heart freely.

“I’ve dressed up before, lots of times, but the other part is kind of new to me too,” Shiro offers.

“You’ve dated though. You have exes. You’re you know…you.”

Shiro’s not entirely sure what that means and files it away for a conversation to have not in the middle of a noisy Halloween store.

“You’re perfect,” Shiro tells him, tipping forward to kiss his forehead.

“Hardly,” Keith snorts, securing his arms around Shiro’s waist. “Now back to these costumes.”

“Right, costumes,” Shiro says, able to read Keith’s body language. He’s done being vulnerable. For now. Luckily Shiro’s a patient man and he will be ready with open arms and ears when Keith is ready.

“You know you can tell me anything right?” Keith prompts, hands finding purchase at Shiro’s hips.

Shiro pauses, licking his lips. Keith says that but he doesn’t know what he’s opening himself to because if he did he might not say that so freely.

Trust Keith the little voice in his head prompts, urged on by the sweet way Keith’s looking up at him.

“Did you really want to match or maybe…maybe you want to pick out something special just for you instead.”

Shiro swallows, unable to find his voice.

“It’s not that I don’t want to match,” Shiro tries, unsure why he suddenly feels flush.

“We could always match next year, baby. We’ve got loads of time.”

Next Year.

Keith says it so casually. As if he already expects to be with Shiro a year from now.

The thrill of it sends Shiro’s heart skyrocketing. Or maybe it’s the set of costume accessories he’s locked eyes with. The ones Keith’s watching him look at.

For a long time neither of them say anything but after a long pause Keith moves, eyes darting back and forth between Shiro and the far wall before he shuffles a few steps over and pulls the accessory set off the peg strip, holding it between his two hands and walking back towards Shiro.

There in Keith’s beautiful, perfect hands is the costume piece of his dreams. Suddenly Shiro feels as if he’s walked outside during a Las Vegas summer—his entire body burning.

This can’t be happening.

Keith holds it in his hands, thumbing over the furred ears on the headband as he leans his shoulder against Shiro’s.

He’s not talking. He’s observing.

He draws his fingers over the plastic buckle of the collar, pulls at the elastic string of the silly nose.

It’s ridiculous and embarrassing and Shiro is surprised that he hasn’t simply dropped dead right here and now.

Flicking the package with his thumb, Keith makes a sound in the back of his throat. “This won’t do. You can’t wear this.”

Shiro’s heart deflates like a helium balloon snagged on barbed wire. Embarrassed and exposed and dangerously close to crying, he tries to composure himself.

This was a bad idea.

“Of course,” he agrees, trying not to cry. “It’s no good.”

“Agreed,” Keith says, pressing his weight more firmly into Shiro’s side. “This is meant for a little kid. Your neck is way too thick for this collar and the headband would give you a headache.”

“What?” Shiro blinks.

“It’s for a kid,” Keith repeats, holding it out toward Shiro and tapping the corner of the cardboard where it says youth.

“We can look online for a similar one if this is the one you like. I bet they make adult sized ones.”

Shiro’s sure he’s misheard. Keith’s not offering to look for a grown up puppy costume for him.

He can’t be.

Except—

“Did you know they make human collars?” Keith asks, already on his phone looking up alternatives.

This time Shiro might as well have walked directly into the sun for the way his body burns.

“Yes,” Shiro croaks, throat wobbling with longing. “I uh…I’ve heard they do.”

“Huh,” Keith says, scrolling through his phone. “Pet play. I don’t think these are for Halloween look at the price.”

“No,” Shiro whispers, sure he’s given himself away completely.

“What do you think?” Keith asks, turning the phone towards Shiro and an array of collars. “Whatever they’re for, they would work.”

Desperately trying to school his face into neutrality Shiro turns his eyes towards Keith’s phone screen. There are collars that look like they’re for an actual pet except bigger, then ones made of velvet and ribbon and some that look more like a necklace aside from the lock. Each of them is unmistakably for a person though.

“They’re cool,” Shiro says, which is a far cry from his own internal panic.

If Keith keeps searching he’s gonna know. He’s gonna know.

“Maybe we should go home, eat dinner. The party isn’t until next weekend,” Shiro says, recognizing the signs of Keith tunneling into hyperfocus. “We can look online later. No big deal.”

“Huh?” Keith says, eyes on his phone.

“Home,” Shiro repeats, planting his hands on Keith’s shoulders and turning him toward the door.

“Oh sure,” Keith replies, making no more mention of the costume as they work their way to the car.

It’s for the best Shiro reasons.

Over the following week Halloween and the failed costume acquisition get pushed to the back of Shiro’s mind—too busy stressing over his dissertation and school work to the point he loses track of the time and day, utterly surprised when Keith walks in from getting their mail and says “You know tomorrow is Halloween.”

"Is it?" Shiro asks, looking up from his laptop when Keith walks behind him.

"Uh huh," Keith hums, dropping a kiss to the top of Shiro's head. "Also you should take a break, baby. You've been there for hours."

"I'm almost done," Shiro tries.

"No you're not," Keith objects.

"No, you're right," Shiro sighs, the kinks in his back screaming at him for how long he’s been hunched over the kitchen table.

"You can take a break," he repeats, dropping a pile of junk mail and bills on the table next to Shiro's laptop. "Come on the couch and cuddle me."

"Cuddle," Shiro echoes, tipping his face back.

Keith's grin is smug and self satisfied. "Yeah, I know how much you like to cuddle."

A flush spreads across Shiro's cheeks and down his neck. He does like to cuddle. A lot. Something Keith damn well knows. If he’s being played he can’t even care because the prospect of cuddling Keith is always enough to get Shiro out of his head.

Eager, but not stupid enough to risk losing his work, Shiro makes sure to save his ducument, highlighting the place he left off and leaving himself a note about his own current though processes before shutting the laptop and trailing after Keith to their living room.

Keith plops down in the far corner, patting the cushion beside him. Shiro's halfway to sitting when he realizes Keith's got a small bubble envelope in his lap.

"You order something online?" Shiro asks, lowering himself down beside Keith so their sides are pressed together and his arm is looped around the back of the couch behind Keith's neck.

"Sure did," Keith answers, lifting the package. It's medium size and nondescript and piques Shiro's curiosity. Keith never shops online.

"What is it?" Shiro asks, rubbing his nose into Keith's cheek.

"Did you know you're kind of like a puppy," Keith says.

Shiro stills, his nose pressed into Keith's cheek as he holds his breath.

"What?" he croaks.

"A puppy," Keith repeats quietly. "The loyalty, the eagerness, the nuzzling. You're like a big puppy."

White noise fills Shiro's ears and he blinks away spots unsure what's happening as Keith rips his package open, a collar falling into his lap.

"You'd be a pretty puppy."

Collar.

Puppy.

Keith.

"Breathe, baby," Keith whispers, turning his face into Shiro's and kissing his lips sweetly.

Shiro tries to breathe. He does. But there's a collar in Keith's lap and Shiro isn't sure if he wants to run away and hide or crawl into Keith's lap and beg.

"You...you," but Shiro can't seem to get any more words out, too focused on the collar in Keith's lap.

"The one at the Halloween store wasn't good enough for you," Keith tells him, picking the collar up and turning it over in his hands.

The sight of Keith's long, dexterous fingers smoothing over an actual collar is enough to have Shiro nearly whimpering.

"That's the costume you wanted right?" Keith says, even though he must know the answer. "You wanted to be a puppy?"

"Yes," Shiro whispers, heart nearly beating out of his chest.

Keith passes the collar to Shiro, laying it in Shiro's open hand.

"It's leather, with a velvet lined back so it doesn't irritate your neck. I measured one of your dress shirts to get the collar size so it should be the perfect fit."

Shiro fingers the leather, cool on one side and velvet soft on the other. It's flexible, high quality, and the idea of it buckled around his throat is almost enough to make Shiro faint.

He's looked at them online before, imagining having one of his own, but he never had the courage to do more than add it to the cart then never return to the website and he’s sure as hell never told Keith. He's never told anyone about the thoughts that swirl in his mind. The nicknames he wants. The desire not to be owned but to belong to someone—to Keith.

Someone despite never being told Keith knows. A mere hour in a costume store and Keith's got Shiro's entire soul laid bare.

"It's too nice for just Halloween," Shiro whispers, knowing exactly how much one this luxurious must've cost Keith.

"It's not," Keith protests.

"You didn't need to spend so much money on me," Shiro mumbles, never able to accept gifts very well, even ones he wants. And oh how he wants.

"Well for one thing you know I love spending my money on you," Keith objects, "and that's not what I was talking about anyway."

"It's not?" Shiro asks, unable to stop rubbing his thumb against the velvet and thinking about it at his throat.

"Nope," Keith says, shifting up and over so that he's straddling Shiro's thighs. "Because I might be wrong but...I don't think this is just for Halloween. Is it?"

The weight of Keith in his lap settles something in Shiro.

Shiro squeezes his eyes shut so tight he sees little spots of white in the dark.

"No," he answers, so quietly he's not sure if Keith hears him.

"Oh," Keith whispers, pressing his forehead against Shiro's. "Thank you."

"Thank you," Shiro echoes, eyes still shut tight. "What for?"

"For telling me. That took a lot didn't it? You're so brave, so good for me, letting me know what you want."

Shiro's throat wobbles. He doesn't feel brave but Keith says it like it's true and Shiro always believes Keith.

"How did you know?" Shiro asks, wanting to open his eyes but not able to yet.

"I didn't, at first," Keith answers, rubbing his nose against Shiro's. "But the way you were at the store, the way you looked at that costume. Fuck, if you could've seen your face. The way you looked."

"How did I look?" Shiro asks, daring to open his eyes for this.

"You looked...like I was holding everything you'd ever wanted in your hands and it reminded me of something."

"What's that?" Shiro asks.

"A few months ago I borrowed your laptop to send that work email when mine crashed. You remember?"

"Yeah," Shiro says, unsure where this is going.

"You had pages of collars open. Nice ones, like this. At the time I thought...I thought maybe you wanted a puppy but you never mentioned it and I guess I just forgot. Things got busy you know? But then at the store I remembered."

He pauses, reaching down to take the collar from Shiro's hands.

"You didn't want to get a puppy, you wanted to be one right?"

Shiro breathes through his nose so harshly he gets lightheaded. He thought he hid it better. He thought—

"Shhh, baby, it's okay," Keith whispers, smoothing the forelock off Shiro's face. "It's just me. Just Keith. Whatever you want is okay with me."

"Even if I want to be your puppy?" he croaks.

It's the first time he's said the words out loud, and something rattles in his chest.

"Shiro," Keith murmurs, laying his hands at Shiro's face so the leather of the collar in Keith's hand is pressed into Shiro's cheek. "I want you to be my everything."

"It's a little weird, I know," Shiro mumbles.

"I mean considering we once fucked while you pretended I was a werewolf in heat I don't think it's that weird."

"That wasn't weird, that was just one of your fantasies," Shiro protests.

"Oh so I can have secret werewolf porn fantasies but you can't want to be a puppy? That's taking it too far?" Keith asks seriously.

Shiro blushes. "Well when you say it like that."

"Exactly," Keith says, straightening his shoulders. "We share these things. That’s what boyfriends do."

"Yeah...yeah, okay," Shiro nods, sagging in relief.

"You spent a lot of time assuring me that none of my sexual fantasies were odd so why is this different?" Keith asks.

"I don't know," Shiro huffs. "Maybe because...because," but he trails off.

"Because what?" Keith asks.

"It's not just a sexual fantasy," Shiro blurts, surprised he doesn't simply drop dead from the confession.

"No?" Keith asks, head cocked adorably to the side. "What is it then?"

"I don't know," Shiro says, embarrassed at the way his voice shakes. "I never...never let myself think about it."

"Would it be so scary if you did?" Keith asks.

"Yes. No...maybe," Shiro sighs. "I'm just...I mean…it’s more than sex."

"So you want to be a puppy but not during sex."

"I mean maybe during sex too," Shiro mumbles, positive his ears are as red as a tomato.

"Okay," Keith says, as if that's not weird. "So sometimes you want to be a puppy. Maybe during sex, but also not always."

It's surreal that Keith is just saying these things out loud.

"Is that close?" Keith questions.

Unable to speak, Shiro merely nods.

"And right now?"

"What about right now?" Shiro gets out.

"Do you wanna be a puppy right now?"

In the blink of an eye Shiro's entire life flashes. He thinks about the years he spent sleeping in his closet as a little kid, pretending he was a puppy and the way adults laughed and said he'd outgrow it. About the hours he’d spent researching these things in the middle of the night so his roommate didn’t catch him. Every memory is filled with shame, and confusion. Yet here is Keith talking about it like it’s normal. Like Shiro is normal.

"Yes," Shiro whispers. "I want."

"Want what?" Keith pushes and because it's Keith he knows the prompt is done with love.

"I want to be your puppy,” Shiro whispers.

The confession is like pulling a bandaid off, except it's not Shiro's skin being ripped off but his heart which beats in his chest so hard he can barely breathe.

A lifetime of longing, of embarrassment and shame, of desires he could barely even think of in the privacy of his mind laid bare for the person he loves most. It's almost too much.

The only thing stopping Shiro from flinging himself into the abyss is Keith and the absolute acceptance he sees reflected back at him. Keith's not judging him, or shying away or teasing him. He's here with open arms ready to accept Shiro.

All of Shiro.

"The first thing a puppy needs is a collar," Keith says, voice steady. "But it needs something first."

"What?" Shiro asks, barely breathing.

"This," Keith answers, reaching for the mailer and pulling out a tiny bubble wrapped thing.

Shiro watches curiously as Keith lays the collar in their lap so that he can unwrap it, throat tight as Keith tips a metal tag into his upturned palm.

A tag.

A dog tag. With Shiro's name engraved on it.

He doesn't mean to whine but the sound just comes out, something pathetic and needy that's been trapped inside for too damn long.

"Just a second, baby," Keith soothes, kissing his cheek as he attached the tag to the center of the collar. "There, perfect for my good boy."

Keith holds the collar up for Shiro’s inspection—Shiro’s name glinting on the metal.

“Do you like it?”

Shiro nods, one again unable to speak. Like doesn’t even begin to cover it. He thought if he was lucky he might get a silly plastic collar. That maybe, he could play at what he wanted for one day before having it ripped away.

He never dared hope for this.

For a real collar. Like a real puppy.

“Look at the back,” Keith tells him, biting on the inside of his cheek.

With trembling fingers Shiro reaches up, the clink of metal against his prosthetic echoing as he turns the tag. Turns out his isn’t the only name engraved.

“Puppies belong to someone,” Keith says, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “I thought…I hope this is okay.”

There on the back of Shiro’s tag are two words engraved in metal that will forever be etched in Shiro’s heart.

Keith’s Puppy.

Shiro opens his mouth then closes it again, unable to put into words how feels.

“Is it too much?” Keith asks quietly. “I almost asked first but you know I’m kind of a jump in the deep end kind of guy and I knew you were nervous.”

Keith doesn’t stop to breathe, rambling on. “I’m not always good with words you are but you didn’t have them for this and I needed to show you it was okay. Is it?” He asks, peering at Shiro from beneath the dark fringe in his eyes. “Is it okay, baby?”

“Yes,” Shiro whispers, managing the words for Keith.

He did all this for Shiro; he deserves to have explicit confirmation—deserves everything.

The smile that lights up Keith’s face is something private and precious—a smile Shiro knows is reserved only for him.

“Does this mean I can put it on?” Keith asks. “Or did you want to wait to wear it?”

“Now,” Shiro all but begs. “Right now”

“Now it is,” Keith says, ducking his face to hide his smile. It doesn’t work. His joy is clear and the idea that it’s come from doing this with Shiro is almost more than he can bear.

Watching Keith finger the leather is mesmerizing, his fingers delicate but his grip sure as he lifts it to Shiro’s neck.

“I did some research but if I do something wrong you can tell me.”

“You did research?” Shiro asks.

“I might not be Mr. PhD but I do know how,” Keith laughs.

“Not like that,” Shiro tells him, resting his hand on Keith’s thigh. “Just—that’s so much work for me.”

“Oh,” Keith exhales. “You really don’t know.”

“Know what?” Shiro asks.

“That I’d do anything for you.”

“Keith.”

“I mean it. Anything. You’re it for me, Shiro. I’d do anything for you. I’ll give you everything you want.”

It's such a Keith declaration. No frills or beating around the bush. Just complete honesty.

“I just want you,” Shiro tells him.

“And to be a puppy,” Keith points out, tone fond.

“I mean…okay yeah that too,” Shiro blushes.

“Then be mine.”

“Yours,” Shiro echoes.

“My Shiro. My baby.” He brings the collar up, laying it against Shiro’s throat. “My puppy.”

His nimble fingers smooth the collar around Shiro's throat before he secures the buckle at the back so that Shiro is collared.

"Is it too tight?" Keith asks, watching Shiro for any signs of distress.

Shiro pauses, lifting his fingers to feel the collar.

It's more overwhelming than he expected it to be. He'd thought about this happening, but always in the abstract. In ways that made it easy to emotionally disconnect from the fantasy. You couldn't lose something you didn't let yourself admit you wanted. Or that's what Shiro reasoned.

Until Keith.

Until he'd got that silly idea to play puppy, even just for one night.

At the time he was sure it was as close as he could ever get to having it, sure this was his one chance. Then he'd lost his nerve and though he shouldn't have been upset, he'd privately mourned for the loss of something he knew he'd never have.

"Shiro," Keith whispers, drawing his fingers down the side of Shiro's throat.

Shiro opens his mouth but nothing will come out.

"I have a thought," Keith starts. "Squeeze my hand if I'm wrong, if you need me to stop."

Aliens could invade their apartment with sentient robots and Shiro wouldn't, not after getting this.

"You work so hard. Too hard. You work part time and take your classes, and you student teach and you take care of me. It’s too much."

Shiro wants to protest, to deny but his voice still wont work so he bows his head.

"You carry so much weight on your shoulders," Keith says, digging his fingers into the tight muscle of Shiro's neck. His mouth falls open on a soft moan as Keith massages deeper, harder. "I know you're happy, that you love our life, and I do too. But it's okay to be stressed. You are, aren't you? You're stressed?"

Shiro swallows, barely managing a nod. It's enough for Keith who exhales a heavy breath.

"You work so hard all the time. You're not good at resting. But...but maybe my puppy can rest."

All the breath catches in his throat.

"Puppies can't talk can they?" Keith asks, clearly not expecting an answer. "You know what puppies get," he continues, smoothing his hands up Shiro's shoulders till they rest at his throat, fingers wrapping around the collar. "Puppies get taken care of."

Shiro's entire body sags.

It's everything he would never dare admit to wanting and it sounds so good.

"You're gonna be my puppy for a while, aren't you?"

Shiro can't answer, can't even nod, just whines.

"I'm gonna put on a movie and lay on the couch and you're gonna curl up in my lap like a good boy and keep me company."

Keith’s taking charge, letting Shiro let go, and the weight falls off his shoulders. He doesn’t have to do anything but be Keith’s puppy now.

"Come on, puppy," Keith says, rolling onto the far end of the sofa and then patting his lap.

Shiro's movements are too eager, overly awkward, as he curls up on the couch, head in Keith's lap.

"You can stretch out," Keith tells him.

Shiro does, letting his socked feet press into the edge of the sofa as he presses his head back into Keith's belly.

"That's it, good boy," Keith praises, grabbing the remote off the side of the couch and flipping on Netflix.

It's funny how normal this is. How this could be like any night they spend watching tv together.

Except for the part where Shiro's pretending to be a puppy.

"You're still thinking too hard," Keith points out, and were it anyone else Shiro might bristle with indignation at being perceived so acutely. Because it's Keith, the words are taken with far different results. He's not judging him. Keith cares about Shiro. And Shiro? Oh how he wants to be good for Keith. To please him. To do exactly what Keith asks.

"You can do it," Keith tells him, flipping through the recently added category with one hand and smoothly the other through Shiro's hair. "Whatever it is you keep thinking about."

If Shiro weren't absolutely certain Keith can't read minds he'd wonder now. As it is he can only sag with relief. Keith doesn't know what Shiro wants but he's giving Shiro exactly what he needs anyway—permission.

Giving in to the deepest desires he can, Shiro rolls onto his other side so that it's his nose pressed into Keith's belly as he nuzzles it the same way he'd nuzzled Keith's cheek earlier.

"Oh, is that what you wanted, puppy?" Keith grins, leaning back further and lifting his shirt. "Such a cuddly boy."

Shiro's cheeks heat as he rubs his cheek into Keith's belly, feeling the anxiety practically melt off him.

He's toyed with this desire, nuzzling into Keith's cheek or neck on occasion but he's never dared to go all out like this. He does now, panting and whining as he paws at Keith who doesn't call him weird or push Shiro aware, merely continues to pet Shiro's hair.

Something about it soothes an itch in Shiro's brain, the buzz of anxiety that's been permeating his mood all week fading as the movement slows until he stops completely, going boneless with his cheek on Keith's thigh.

It takes Shiro a moment to realize Keith is talking, calloused fingertips dancing across his cheek until his face is upturned.

"Look at you," Keith whispers. "My pretty puppy."

Shiro nearly sobs, the utter weightlessness in his chest making him feel like he's floating.

"I'm gonna take such good care of my puppy," Keith whispers, stroking his thumb over Shiro's mouth.

This time Shiro doesn't filter his thoughts and desires, floating in white noise as his tongue darts out to lick at Keith's thumb. If Keith finds it strange he doesn't show it, slipping his thumb between Shiro's lips for him to mouth at. He's not quite licking or biting, but whatever he's doing satiates something deep in Shiro, the buzz of pleasure all encompassing.

"Good boy," Keith praises, scratching his nails behind Shiro's ears. "Who's my good boy?"

Me Shiro wants to cry, settling for continuing to mouth at Keith's thumb.

Keith knows. He must know.

Normally he'd be embarrassed about what he's doing right now, would deny himself this, but Keith says it's okay and Keith never lies.

Shiro drifts, his mind hazy with pleasure as Keith strokes his hair. The noise of the television fades to white noise, even Keith's periodic questions barely register. All Shiro knows is he is warm and safe and loved, the collar at his neck reminding him of the single most important thing in the world right now.

He is Keith's puppy.