Random Sokeefe Oneshots

Date Night

Sophie spreads the small glob of paint across Keefe's palm, earning a hiss from him. She rolls her eyes, failing to conceal the smile spreading across her lips. 

"I think you're trying to kill me," Keefe exhales dramatically. His eyes are squeezed shut, as though he is in immense pain. 

"It's just a little cold." Sophie scolds.

"Then you're trying to freeze my hand off." 

Sophie lets out a fit of giggles, spreading the paint to the edges of his fingertips. She keeps even strokes, trying to keep the paint in as even layers as possible. Keefe's fingers twitch, like he is fighting the urge to close them and pull away. 

"Foster, you are ruthless." Keefe grits out, pulling his hand away as soon as the paint has covered every surface of his palm. Sophie drags the square canvas closer in front of him. She watches as he slowly presses his paint covered fingers against it, sheepishly smiling at Sophie when he catches her watching. He pulls his palm away after a few seconds, leaving an ice blue handprint on the canvas. 

"Now it's your turn," Keefe turns to Sophie with a cheery smile that is extremely hard not to reciprocate. 

"I'm not a crybaby like you, so I'm sure I can handle it." Sophie reminds him. She almost regrets it when he flashes his smirk. That always means he's up to no good. 
He grabs a bottle of paint, a rich brown the same color of Sophie's eyes. He raises an eyebrow, asking a question he doesn't form with his lips. Ready?

Sophie nods. Definitely.

He squeezes a smear of paint on the center of her palm, and Sophie immediately pulls her hand away. Brown paint splatters the grass beneath them, from where Sophie shook the paint off hastily. 

"That is freezing!" Sophie shouts, rubbing the last amounts of brown on the trunk of the tree. 

"Crybaby." Keefe says smugly. 

"Is the paint frozen or something?" 

"It's just a little cold," Keefe repeats her earlier words, raising his voice higher and batting his eyelashes. Mocking her. Sophie didn't actually think the paint could possibly be that cold. 

"If you want, you can just take the canvas with my handprint on it." Keefe suggests. "Hang it above your bed or something." 

"But then it would just be your handprint there. That would be weird." 

"Then you're going to have to let me paint your hand." 

Sophie groans but sticks her hand out toward him again. Keefe doesn't ask if she's ready this time before adding a glob of paint to her palm. Sophie sucks in a breath through her teeth, making Keefe's smirk grow even wider. 
He drags the paintbrush tediously slowly, making Sophie give him many reminders that her hand is going to freeze off any second. 

"Okay now you just place your hand on top of where I put mine, like we're holding hands." Keefe instructs her. She does as he says, and waits only a couple of seconds before pulling her hand off the canvas. Sophie makes sure to splotch Keefe's cheek with her index finger before the paint dries. 

"You sure you want to do this with me?" Keefe raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms. 

"You're right, I'm sorry. I surrender." Sophie's words are quick due to the threat of freezing paint coating her entire face. Keefe lets out a hum, resting his head against the trunk of the tree. 

"What's the next part?" Sophie asks as she rests her cheek against Keefe's shoulder. 

"We're going to write our names at the top in marker." 

"You should be the one to write our names." Sophie reminds him. 

"Why? Because of my amazing penmanship skills, or because you think I deserve it because I have a pretty face?" Keefe mocks. He runs his hand over the hair resting on the back of her neck, stroking his thumb over her skin. 

"Both." 

He lets out a chuckle before sighing contently through his nose. He begins to write out their names in all capital letters at the top of the canvas, just above their fingers. Unsurprisingly, in amazing penmanship. 

"So who is going to get to hang this masterpiece on their wall?" Sophie doesn't tear her gaze from the marker in his hand as she asks the question, still shocked at how someone can make their lines so straight. 

"You're the one with a wall completely dedicated to me," Keefe reminds her. 

"Do not!" 

"Yes you do. I see you go up there with tape every time I give you a painting. I could start a wall dedicated to you, but I'm afraid it might outshine yours." Keefe says, pulling away to study his work. 

"I do not have a wall dedicated to you." Sophie lets the lie roll of her tongue with ease, though she can obviously see that he doesn't buy it. Empaths. All there is is a few drawings and paintings Keefe has given her, and about a million pictures of them in human photo booths and printed Polaroids. 

"Let's go check then, shall we?" Keefe is already up and running toward Havenfield before Sophie can even blink. 

"Hey!" Sophie shouts, starting after him. He has the canvas in hand when he opens the doors to her home, Sophie on his heels. She runs into him when he suddenly stops. 

"Grady." Keefe says with a little salute. Her dad does not look amused. 

"Keefe. What is that in your hand?" Grady nods toward the canvas, which Keefe hands over easily. Grady's gaze seems to soften when he looks at the painting, and he eyes Sophie and Keefe before handing it back to him. 

"You can put this on the wall of you and Keefe you have in your room." Grady says, causing Keefe to snicker. Her cheeks heat, but Keefe grabs her hand. 

"Let's go hang this up, shall we?"