( affectionately, he rolls his eyes at the kisses, a subtle shake to his head. he shouldn't let himself be so thoroughly trapped beneath his thumb, and yet, )
Whatever you say, husband.
( it's all just playful talk, but really, if keith wants more kisses, shiro figures their recent marriage is a good enough excuse.
the kitchen is less like a restaurant and more like a room in a wealthy person's house - the workers there greet them by name, raising up their heads in assured obedience. shiro's fingers lift from where his arm is draped over keith's shoulder in greeting, although he's quick to shake his head, nodding them out a nearby door. )
I was hoping to make my husband a romantic dinner. Why don't you all take a walk?
( probably, the workers have all been given strict instruction to listen to every order they're given - they all scurry out and shiro watches them as they go, silently pulling out a chair at the breakfast bar for keith, tucking him in once he takes a seat. shiro saunters to the other side of the table top, opening the fridge up to examine the contents. )
What would you like? Looks like there's ... steak, chicken ... pretty much everything.
[ husband. he likes the sound of that. he likes the idea of having shiro as his lawfully wedded spouse -- the man is soft and warm and gorgeous, driven and principled, and keith enjoys the fantasy, his gaze lingering on the ring. if things were different -- perhaps. but keith doesn't deal in 'what ifs'; they take up too much time, and he's aware of his own feelings for shiro, which are not necessarily prudent for his business. falling in love with a cop, that would be hilarious if it happened to someone else.
but the thing is, shiro has always been exceptional, clever and so much unlike his peers that his life would be all that much more dull if it weren't for him. so he watches him like a hawk, climbing onto the chair by the bar and watching him with unveiled fascination.
he truly is an exceptional one, this man, with absolutely perfect shoulder-to-waist ratio and a face everyone would like to kiss. and now, too, that ass when he bends over to examine the contents. ]
Anything you're good at making. [ he leans his cheek on his fist, smiling as he enjoys the truly glorious view. ] And please, stay there a little longer.
( contrary to keith's request, shiro perks up in light of it, as if entirely unaware of what he was showing off, or unaware that there was anything worth looking at back there. he knows he's attractive - or he did know, before undercover work gone spoiled rendered him marred and amputated. since then, he hasn't exactly had the same kind of self-confidence he used to, and neither has he been particularly interested in finding it again. adam was long gone by the time he'd gotten back from his failed gladiator mission, which he eventually learned to be grateful for. at least he didn't have to relearn how to love him, scarred and halved as he is. on cold nights when he wished there was someone in his bed to chase his nightmares away, he remembered to think that adam was likely happier without him in his life, and that bitterness eventually became catharsis.
anyway, he's gotten more used to being unappealing by now. sex and sexual attraction was something he kissed away with his arm, so being - sought after is not. something that registers in his mind as anything genuine. really, it's just cause for suspicion. he lifts his brow at keith momentarily, before he gathers a few separate ingredients - a thin flank of steak, eggs, a package of ramen noodles, and all various spices and ingredients to prep for their individual bowls. of course if keith gives him the opportunity, he's going to fall back on his go to comfort foods, largely comprised of things his grandmother used to cook for him and ryou when they were kids.
sleeves rolled up, he's seasoning the meat in front of keith, heating up a pot of already made stock. there's a weighty silence, like there's something he wants to say and is trying not to, before he just sighs, cracking his neck. )
Can I ask you something? ( he's formal about it, being delicate. ) Off the records.
[ it's such a great, crying shame if this is what shiro thinks of himself. but keith has a vague idea from the occasional self-deprecation and a genuine modesty about... well, about everything personal. shiro is an absolute powerhouse when he means business, but other than that, keith sees a marked lack of that sort of firm stand when it comes to things that aren't business. it's almost a pity, because keith has grown extremely fond of him in that span of time.
he sees his gifts and shortcomings clearer than anyone else because he's had many, many private and professional background checks done on the man. the whole arm thing is inconsequential in the general scheme of things, as are the scars -- if anything else, keith is even more charmed by them, aware that shiro hasn't had an easy life up until now, and yet here he is, still trucking. he's honest about his interest, and when shiro straightens up he makes a soft noise.
ah, there it goes, the finest ass this side of the hemisphere. he raises his eyes to meet his; looking forward to just about anything that shiro makes, because things like that give keith an insight to his preferences, his life. he scratches idly at his scar. ]
( the steak goes into a heated pan, sizzling on contact, a wide variety of asian spices seasoning the air as it cooks up. shiro busies himself with getting everything else ready, from eggs to green onions to green tea that he prepares with proficiency. he worries for the second time over the question he wants to ask, frowning as he sends some eggs into the boiling depths of a pot. he has no doubt that keith knows all about the accident at this point, as he's made it abundantly clear that he has friends in high places, including shiro's place of work. the thing is - shiro has never read that file. he knows he has the mark of approval, fit again for action, after a very long mental and physical recovery, but as far as the details go ...
well. he can't really remember what he said, to all those therapists, all those tests. he failed them before he passed them, though.
he wipes his hands off on a nearby towel. using his prosthetic to handle hot plates seamlessly. he reaches in and flips the steak on the points of his fingers without thinking twice. once the tea has seeped for long enough, he pours keith cup, sliding it over to him. )
Careful. ( it's hot. he shrugs, now without anything to occupy his time with, leaning his back against the counter. he keeps his voice low. ) You know Sendak? Do you know if he's going to be here?
[ keith doesn't move, his expression carefully neutral -- he's learned how to do that exceptionally well long ago, to mask whatever he happens to be thinking, just in case some bright spark decides to try to get the upper hand. old habits die hard now, you see, and he's still leaning on his fist, contemplating everything he can tell shiro.
he makes it a point to have information on each and every person he comes across, and shiro is no exception; he's aware of why he's asking about sendak, and while keith is capable of pulling numerous strings to his advantage, sendak's presence here is something keith hadn't actually considered removing. no, it would be out of character to manipulate him somewhere else, but he'd banked on shiro never asking.
he understands how it's related to that murky time in shiro's past, and it most likely has everything to do with that fine prosthetic arm. his gaze flickers to that, too, as he takes the cup of tea and hums appreciatively, contemplating just how handy shiro is with that deadly, dangerous hand.
it must have caused him no small amount of grief, in the beginning. he sympathises. ]
( shiro has spent a lot of time investigating criminals, but he's never really been able to get a read on keith. it's cause for irritation, really. he wishes he knew what was going on in his mind. instead, he's left guessing - assuming he knows what the question means to shiro, assuming he cares. thoughtfully, he clucks his tongue, setting the steak out to rest, fussing over all the other ingredients.
worst comes to worst, he lies through his teeth. he's not an idiot - he's not planning on taking sendak out in the middle of a foreign country, surrounded by people who would all very well see it for what it is. he's just arching for information, learning the realities of the gladiator ring, where it's happening, and how to stop it.
shiro shrugs. he looks down at his fake hand, clenching it. he's not going to lie about who put it there. )
He could recognize me. It'd put the mission in jeopardy.
( he's sorting out their bowls of ramen now, affectionately doting keith's with toppings. )
[ he's absolutely adorable when he's doting on keith's food -- and although he keeps an idle eye on what he's doing to make sure shiro won't possibly poison his food (very unlikely, and very out of character for such a man, but still). he takes his time to respond, because clearly this means a lot to shiro -- even if the man is lying about it.
keith has to give it to him, shiro's pretty decent at lying. but he's a good man, and ultimately good men have tells, and good men aren't as adept in deceit as worse men can be. keith supposes he has to thank whatever higher power for that.
and, well, not everyone can be perfect, right? ]
If it does put the mission in jeopardy, would you be a good boy and stay in the hotel room?
[ consider him curious; keith wants to see how far this goes, if shiro would truly be a danger to the mission -- and to himself. funnily enough, keith is just that little bit more concerned about his well-being than he thought he would be. man, this means he's got it pretty bad. ]
( shiro has the sense to figure this is some sort of mind game being played, continuing what ifs he imagines might become realities. the steak gets sliced, and shiro hands his bowl over, pausing considerately before finding a fork to give to keith. shiro sticks with a pair of chopsticks he managed to find ( this is a very well stocked kitchen! ), messing his bowl up idly.
after a beat, he grins, eyes alight with amusement. )
You'd be with me, but yes. ( not getting found out is first priority. the close second is not letting keith out of his sight. ) I do "good boy" pretty well, I'm sure you're not surprised. Dying here is pointless.
[ Shiro is a smart cookie, but then again, this is not surprising -- this man is much, much more clever than your average detective, and the sheer tactical acumen he possesses is one of a kind. It's no surprise that Shiro will already suss out what Keith intends to do, considering the line of questioning.
He's glancing at his shoulder, then, starting to dig into his noodles. Mmmm, delicious. ]
( it's cute to see keith enjoying the noodles, but the question pulls him out of that strange serenity abruptly. most people want to know how he lost the arm, but he's quick to note that keith frames his question in a different light. before shiro gets too soft to that notion, he reminds himself that keith likely already knows all about the witch who tore his arm off.
he clenches his prosthetic again before flaring his fingers out, semi showing off his range of motion. )
It's constructed of carbon fiber plates that imitate contact, underneath the aluminum casing. Feeling is something like an illusion — there's nothing like temperature or pain, which makes it, well, handy that it's my shooting arm. ( with his opposing hand he slides a finger up the extent of the prosthetic, pointing at a black band between the metal and his flesh. ) This sensor translates my brain messages into binary that the arm can understand. The disengage is right ( he lifts his arm up, elbow bent, showing a latch on the underside of his bicep. it's incapable of being undone on accident. ) here. That's pretty much it.
They keep trying to give it upgrades to turn me into some kind of super soldier. ( properly shown off, he recollects his ramen, idly mussing it around. ) It's fine as it is. There's an overheat option, that can sometimes burn through steel. It's all very dramatic.
no subject
Whatever you say, husband.
( it's all just playful talk, but really, if keith wants more kisses, shiro figures their recent marriage is a good enough excuse.
the kitchen is less like a restaurant and more like a room in a wealthy person's house - the workers there greet them by name, raising up their heads in assured obedience. shiro's fingers lift from where his arm is draped over keith's shoulder in greeting, although he's quick to shake his head, nodding them out a nearby door. )
I was hoping to make my husband a romantic dinner. Why don't you all take a walk?
( probably, the workers have all been given strict instruction to listen to every order they're given - they all scurry out and shiro watches them as they go, silently pulling out a chair at the breakfast bar for keith, tucking him in once he takes a seat. shiro saunters to the other side of the table top, opening the fridge up to examine the contents. )
What would you like? Looks like there's ... steak, chicken ... pretty much everything.
no subject
but the thing is, shiro has always been exceptional, clever and so much unlike his peers that his life would be all that much more dull if it weren't for him. so he watches him like a hawk, climbing onto the chair by the bar and watching him with unveiled fascination.
he truly is an exceptional one, this man, with absolutely perfect shoulder-to-waist ratio and a face everyone would like to kiss. and now, too, that ass when he bends over to examine the contents. ]
Anything you're good at making. [ he leans his cheek on his fist, smiling as he enjoys the truly glorious view. ] And please, stay there a little longer.
no subject
anyway, he's gotten more used to being unappealing by now. sex and sexual attraction was something he kissed away with his arm, so being - sought after is not. something that registers in his mind as anything genuine. really, it's just cause for suspicion. he lifts his brow at keith momentarily, before he gathers a few separate ingredients - a thin flank of steak, eggs, a package of ramen noodles, and all various spices and ingredients to prep for their individual bowls. of course if keith gives him the opportunity, he's going to fall back on his go to comfort foods, largely comprised of things his grandmother used to cook for him and ryou when they were kids.
sleeves rolled up, he's seasoning the meat in front of keith, heating up a pot of already made stock. there's a weighty silence, like there's something he wants to say and is trying not to, before he just sighs, cracking his neck. )
Can I ask you something? ( he's formal about it, being delicate. ) Off the records.
no subject
he sees his gifts and shortcomings clearer than anyone else because he's had many, many private and professional background checks done on the man. the whole arm thing is inconsequential in the general scheme of things, as are the scars -- if anything else, keith is even more charmed by them, aware that shiro hasn't had an easy life up until now, and yet here he is, still trucking. he's honest about his interest, and when shiro straightens up he makes a soft noise.
ah, there it goes, the finest ass this side of the hemisphere. he raises his eyes to meet his; looking forward to just about anything that shiro makes, because things like that give keith an insight to his preferences, his life. he scratches idly at his scar. ]
Sure, what is it?
no subject
well. he can't really remember what he said, to all those therapists, all those tests. he failed them before he passed them, though.
he wipes his hands off on a nearby towel. using his prosthetic to handle hot plates seamlessly. he reaches in and flips the steak on the points of his fingers without thinking twice. once the tea has seeped for long enough, he pours keith cup, sliding it over to him. )
Careful. ( it's hot. he shrugs, now without anything to occupy his time with, leaning his back against the counter. he keeps his voice low. ) You know Sendak? Do you know if he's going to be here?
no subject
he makes it a point to have information on each and every person he comes across, and shiro is no exception; he's aware of why he's asking about sendak, and while keith is capable of pulling numerous strings to his advantage, sendak's presence here is something keith hadn't actually considered removing. no, it would be out of character to manipulate him somewhere else, but he'd banked on shiro never asking.
he understands how it's related to that murky time in shiro's past, and it most likely has everything to do with that fine prosthetic arm. his gaze flickers to that, too, as he takes the cup of tea and hums appreciatively, contemplating just how handy shiro is with that deadly, dangerous hand.
it must have caused him no small amount of grief, in the beginning. he sympathises. ]
Why?
no subject
worst comes to worst, he lies through his teeth. he's not an idiot - he's not planning on taking sendak out in the middle of a foreign country, surrounded by people who would all very well see it for what it is. he's just arching for information, learning the realities of the gladiator ring, where it's happening, and how to stop it.
shiro shrugs. he looks down at his fake hand, clenching it. he's not going to lie about who put it there. )
He could recognize me. It'd put the mission in jeopardy.
( he's sorting out their bowls of ramen now, affectionately doting keith's with toppings. )
no subject
keith has to give it to him, shiro's pretty decent at lying. but he's a good man, and ultimately good men have tells, and good men aren't as adept in deceit as worse men can be. keith supposes he has to thank whatever higher power for that.
and, well, not everyone can be perfect, right? ]
If it does put the mission in jeopardy, would you be a good boy and stay in the hotel room?
[ consider him curious; keith wants to see how far this goes, if shiro would truly be a danger to the mission -- and to himself. funnily enough, keith is just that little bit more concerned about his well-being than he thought he would be. man, this means he's got it pretty bad. ]
no subject
after a beat, he grins, eyes alight with amusement. )
You'd be with me, but yes. ( not getting found out is first priority. the close second is not letting keith out of his sight. ) I do "good boy" pretty well, I'm sure you're not surprised. Dying here is pointless.
no subject
He's glancing at his shoulder, then, starting to dig into his noodles. Mmmm, delicious. ]
Tell me about your arm.
no subject
he clenches his prosthetic again before flaring his fingers out, semi showing off his range of motion. )
It's constructed of carbon fiber plates that imitate contact, underneath the aluminum casing. Feeling is something like an illusion — there's nothing like temperature or pain, which makes it, well, handy that it's my shooting arm. ( with his opposing hand he slides a finger up the extent of the prosthetic, pointing at a black band between the metal and his flesh. ) This sensor translates my brain messages into binary that the arm can understand. The disengage is right ( he lifts his arm up, elbow bent, showing a latch on the underside of his bicep. it's incapable of being undone on accident. ) here. That's pretty much it.
They keep trying to give it upgrades to turn me into some kind of super soldier. ( properly shown off, he recollects his ramen, idly mussing it around. ) It's fine as it is. There's an overheat option, that can sometimes burn through steel. It's all very dramatic.