sweet saturday

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part one; sweet saturday 

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Keith laid on the bed, a laptop in front of him laying atop a pillow while his eyes were glued to the screen. His black hair was tied up into some sort of bun-- he was a guy so he really didn't know how to be meticulous with his hair --just being freshly washed. He wore a tank-top and some shorts since it was warm outside, the inside of the house was a little warmer too. 

He held a popsicle with one hand while the other supported his chest, the cold, orange treat in his mouth as he watched the show that was playing on the tube. Keith was watching The Office, since there wasn't much to do, he was just choosing to be lazy and lounge around. 

Keith kicked his feet lightly, not even seeming bothered as the sound of a squeaking knob rung in his ears from the bathroom. He was beyond used to it by now, so he really didn't need to worry that it was an intruder. Or Lance. Now that would've been a shit show Keith wouldn't sit around and watch. 

The sound of the door sliding open was faint compared to the volume of the show that Keith was still watching, unbothered and uncaring as he continued to enjoy his popsicle. The orange treat was slightly staining his lips, but he really didn't mind, not if it was keeping him cool and it tasted good. 

He heard a sigh. " Stress Relief, again? " Shiro tutted. " Let me guess; Part One? " 

Keith felt two hands snake up his sides -- one warm and the other cold -- as the bed dipped on either side of him. He turned his head to look up at Shiro, the closest person he'd ever known. Shiro smiled lightly down at him. " You're really in love with this show, aren't you? " he looked at Keith's laptop, watching as a man who Shiro remembred as Dwight lighting a garbage can on fire. 

The younger only shrugged, turning his head back to the screen as he let go of the stick of his popsicle while he held it in his mouth. Keith held his hand up to Shiro, having some melted syrup from the treat on his hands which he needed to be cleaned, but he wasn't in the mood to get up and off the bed. Shiro rose his brow, looking at Keith's hand. " What? " he questioned. 

" Clean it off, " he said simply, pushing his hand into Shiro's face needily. Shiro chuckled, taking Keith's hand into his own as he twined their fingers together. " It's not sanitary for me to lick you clean, Keith. " he teased, kissing his pale skin gently as he leaned against Keith's back.

Shiro rested his chin on Keith's shoulder while he pretended like he was watching the show when really he was looking up at his face, simply admiring Keith's eyes and the mark on his cheek. Keith held the popsicle with his other hand as he popped it out of his mouth. " You know, you're still in your towel, " he commented, leaning his head against Shiro's. " and you're still kind of wet. " 

The older only chuckled. " I don't feel like changing, I'm still sore and it's too hot for me to wear my sweats. " he nuzzled his face into Keith's neck, making him laugh lightly from the puff on his head tickling beneath his jaw. 

Keith tilted to popsicle so it nudged Shiro's lips. " Here, " he offered. Shiro smiled lightly, taking the popsicle from his hand and sticking into his mouth. Now Shiro's eyes went to the screen, watching as the people scrambled around for an exit away from the fire in a closed room while smoke fogged up the room they were in. 

" Save Bandit! " a woman cried as she threw her cat up into the ceiling boards, expecting the man who climbed into the ceiling to catch the animal, but instead, the cat ended up crashing down on the other side of the room from the ceiling above. The cat let out a yowl as it hit a desk and panels came falling with it. 

Keith couldn't help but laugh. He always watched The Office when he was stressed out or upset, he's done it ever since he first came to the Garrison. Even now he does it in space inside of a giant castle-ship, millions and million miles from home. His laughing was making Shiro bounce a bit, but Shiro didn't mind it; he just enjoyed seeing Keith smile and brighten up. 

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