Chapter Text
Keith wakes up at 4am on December 7th and mutters “Oh shit.” Luckily, Lance sleeps like the dead so his sudden realization doesn’t wake up the other occupant of the bed, leaving Keith free to quietly freak out undisturbed.
Crap, he really wants to be disturbed.
So he falls back on a lifetime of conditioning and calls his brother.
“Keith. What,” Shiro growls into the receiver and Keith would feel guilty if he wasn’t too busy panicking.
“What do you get people for Christmas?”
He can practically hear Shiro face-palming on the other end of the line. “You’re almost twenty-seven, Keith, you’ve given Christmas gifts before. How do I know this? You’ve given me Christmas gifts before. One a year since you were old enough to think beyond ‘oh, free stuff’.”
“But what do you give other people for Christmas?”
“Is this code for ‘I don’t know what to give my boyfriend for Christmas’? Because if it is, I’m hanging up.”
Keith snorts, “Well you’ve just taken away all my incentives for telling the truth.”
Shiro makes a noise halfway between a moan and a sigh “Oh my god.”
Keith, who is pacing the living room, regretting forgetting to put on socks (the floor is cold), huffs in irritation, “Don’t be a jerk.”
“Oh, I’m going to be a jerk. You woke me up at four am for a fake crisis!”
“It’s not a fake crisis!” Keith whisper-yells into the phone.
“Why didn’t you have this freak-out last year,” Shiro growls, “When it was actually your first Christmas together? You know, the Christmas when normal couples figure out how to give/get gifts for/from their significant other without making it weird?”
Keith sighs, “Last year was easy. The theatre was doing a Christmas show – ”
“- So you were too work-obsessed to freak out over minor stuff?” Shiro finishes for him.
“Shut up. No, I could just give free tickets to my friends. And yeah, I was too work-obsessed to freak out over Lance.”
“What did you do last year?” Shiro asks with a very familiar Tone of Infinite Patience.
“I drew him something,” Keith mutters, then proceeds to talk over Shiro’s obnoxiously loud aww, “But I can’t do that this year!”
“Uh, why not? Homemade stuff is the best; you made it yourself so it’s a physical representation of how much you care and they can’t complain about it because you worked hard on it.”
Keith glares at nothing; “You’re giving us all advance copies of your book this year, aren’t you?”
“Yep,” Shiro says, unrepentant.
“That’s cheating!”
“Hey, stop it, I worked hard on it,” Shiro says in that annoying big-brother sing-song way and Keith does not smother himself with a pillow because that would solve none of his problems.
“Cheater,” Keith hisses.
“Hey, don’t mock my life’s work like that.”
“Ugh. I hate you.”
“Seriously, I’m still stuck on what the actual problem is other than you’re a neurotic mess.”
Keith sighs, “You can’t do the same thing two years in a row, that’s lazy.”
“So you’re not giving your friends free tickets this year?” Shiro asks, “Also, I did not get free tickets last year and I feel left out.”
“I got you a really nice Christmas gift!” Keith protests. He actually got Shiro a sweatshirt with a tiny LED lights embedded in the Christmas tree stitched on the front that flashed in different patterns depending on the setting, a bunch of novelty Star Trek socks and a laser pointer that made space-battle noises. Needless to say, Shiro loved all of it. Keith remembers the time he used to think Shiro was cool with a sense of vague confusion these days.
“Not free tickets~” and Shiro’s doing that aggravating sing-song thing again.
“You suck.”
“Uh-huh. So. No free tickets?”
“Nah,” Keith shakes his hair out of his eyes, he needs a haircut, “No Christmas show this year, they didn’t want to have to compete with the Nutcracker.”
“So that’s why you took the Nutcracker job.”
“They needed an second Assistant Stage Manager and I’m over-qualified.”
“And whipped.”
“Shut up.”
“You keep using that phrase, I don’t think it means what you think it means,” Shiro mangles a Princess Bride quote and is lucky he isn’t actually in the room for strangling purposes.
“Shiro,” Keith sighs, “Just help me. What do you get significant others and/or friends for Christmas?”
“Stuff they like? Seriously, kiddo, I’m not sure how to help you here. Just ask them what they want if you’re not sure.”
“But that’s weird.”
“And your friends are so convinced you’re normal and sane?” Shiro asks flatly.
“I don’t know why I ask you anything.”
“Because you’re dramatic and need constant affirmation that you’re doing a good job?”
“Ew, don’t psychoanalyze me.”
Shiro huffs, tone sobering, “It’s a side effect of writing this damn book. I’ve had to unearth a lot of crap from the past I thought I was over or at least okay with. I mean, I’m fine, right? Everything has turned out great; I can’t really regret anything, can I? Or I’d be wishing the present different, right? I’ve got a good job, a good life – ”
“ – One of these days you might have a real, actual conversation with Allura – ” Keith tries to interject some levity into a conversation he can feel careening towards the serious at an alarming pace.
“She’s a doctor, she has no reason to want to go out with a nurse – ” Shiro tries that chuckling, self-effacing thing and Keith snorts in derision as his stomach growls – dammit, now he’s hungry. Might as well make breakfast, even if it’s four am.
“Uh, dude, have you seen you? You’re ripped and have probably the most interesting life ever,” Keith says bluntly, “Plus you’re gonna be a best-selling author by next Christmas so I don’t know what the big deal is.”
“She lives upstate.”
“You’re planning on moving here soon anyway.”
“She’s a doctor, I’m a – ”
“War veteran? Former Canadian cage-wrestler? Black belt in three martial arts forms? Registered foster parent? World traveler? Basically my dad? Seriously, you love being a nurse; you went into nursing instead of doctoring for all the right reasons. You’re super, obnoxiously proud of being a kickass nurse and like, an awesome human. Stop being a wuss.”
Dead silence and then, “Let the record show that Keith Kogane is an inspiring little bastard when he wants to be.”
“Shut up.”
“I’m actually tearing up right now.”
“Please don’t.”
“I’m so moved.”
“Un-move. Be still, be very still.”
Shiro sucks in a deep breath and Keith pauses in mixing pancake batter – wait, was Shiro actually…moved…on an emotional level by his dumb speech? What.
“Keith, honestly, that was one of the best pep-talks I’ve ever received and I would hug you if you weren’t miles away.”
Fuck. Shiro was actually moved by his words. Keith’s not sure what to do with these feelings so he just keeps mixing the pancake batter. “Um. You’re welcome. You’re basically my inspiration and let’s stop talking about feelings because emotions are dumb.”
“Okay, moment gone.”
“Thank god.”
Silence as Keith pours pancake mix onto the skillet, the phone sandwiched between his shoulder and his ear.
And then Shiro says that thing that Keith’s sure he’s been holding back ever since he picked up the phone – “Have you thought more about writing a forward for the book?”
Keith sighs, “I don’t know, Shiro. I’m kind of good with everything in the past staying there, in the past. Where I and time and a court order put it.”
“A will is not a court order, it’s just a binding legal document.”
“You know what I mean,” Keith huffs, “I just don’t know if I want to dredge all that up. I’m fine with having permanently mixed feelings about the fucked-up way Mom raised me. I don’t need to pick it all apart the way you do.”
“I know, and I don’t mean to push, I really don’t, I just would like a definite yes/no answer soon.” And Shiro sounds so understanding and so kind that Keith kind of feels like a jackass. But not enough like a jackass to do more than nod along.
“Okay, you’ll have your answer by Christmas. Is that fine?”
“That’s great, kiddo.” There’s something about Shiro’s voice, something automatically soothing. There’s a reason he’s a great Emergency Room nurse. He puts people immediately at ease. “And my answer to your gift question is simple – stop worrying about it. When you’re stressed about a problem you won’t find any solutions, just more stress. Patience yields focus.”
“Thanks, Shiro. I’ll definitely use your Jedi-mind-trick words of wisdom in real life.”
“Is there a button? A deactivate sarcasm button?” Shiro asks teasingly and Keith rolls his eyes.
“Thanks, bro.”
“You’re welcome, kiddo.”
Keith hangs up and turns his attention to flipping his pancakes and putting the bacon in the skillet. A few minutes later he hears the shuffle of familiar feet and feels a very familiar warm body draping itself over his back.
“Morning, babe,” Lance mumbles into Keith’s neck, “Why’re you awake?”
“Had to talk to my brother. He’s all weird about the book.”
“Mmhmm. Hey, bacon.”
“My bacon.”
“Share bacon?” Lance asks sleepily, wrapping his arms around Keith’s middle and burying his face in the juncture between Keith’s shoulder and neck.
“Maaaaybe.”
Lance makes an inarticulate whining noise and cuddles closer, if it’s even possible.
“Yeah, you big baby, I’ll share the bacon.”
“Love you.”
“You love my limited cooking skills.”
“Bacon.”
“Yeah, I thought so.”