A ThreadTM! For Shiro and Keith smoking up, because I passed 420 followers this week and 4/20 ALSO happened this week. (I've also been busy with class/adjusting to online class/thesis). Anyway, dunno how long it'll be but it'll be fluffy more than anything :)

Over the years, it becomes habit.

They don't talk about it. It's just Shiro, taking the little box from the top of his cabinet, or sometimes Keith, on his tippy-toes, until it ends in Shiro's lap, until its contents are ordered, neatly, on the coffee table.

Shiro rolls the joint while Keith watches from the other side of the couch. His fingers are nimble, keeping the tobacco and crumbled weed in place; flesh and metal, and the flick of his tongue that Keith follows eagerly.

He watches, of course. Just that. He waits until Shiro heads out onto his balcony and follows him; watches the flicker of the lighter and then the ember of the weed. Shiro inhales quickly a couple of times just to get things going and then once more, slowly, his chest expanding.

Keith doesn't look at *that* though. Instead he licks his lips and watches out over the mesa, quiet this time of the evening, the sun setting and the air cooling around them. He taps his fingers against the cool metal of the railing until Shiro's fingers brush his skin.

"You wanna?" he asks.

*Yes,* Keith wants to say. He doesn't, just takes the joint from Shiro and doesn't think too hard on it. He wants to, wants to lean closer, but it's not time yet--he needs time. He needs this, first.

(Quietly, he knows Shiro does too)

(Quietly, he knows the brush of their fingers when they exchange the blunt back and forth means nothing, not until it burns down to the roach, not until all that's left is embers turned to coal in the soft breeze)

Once he's light-headed, once Shiro flicks away the scorched paper down to the desert below, uncharacteristically eco-unfriendly, he smiles lazily.

He lets Shiro trail behind him, this time around, and then downs a glass of water to soothe his dry mouth.

Shiro's hand is on his hip, big and warm and dry skin against Keith's hip.

He shivers although he tries not to, and then he turns his neck to meet Shiro's mouth. He knows his lips are still water-cold, his tongue is still sweet with liquid, and Shiro kisses it all away.

Keith's heart kicks up another notch, higher than the weed and nicotine made it, racing now as he turns in Shiro's arms and begins to kiss back.

He doesn't know why they need this, the wait, the help, why he can't close his eyes and give in once morning comes.

For now, he lets Shiro guide him back to the couch, his legs wrapped around that narrow waist and his hardening dick rubbing against Shiro's tight abs, grinding down once Shiro deposits him onto the cushions, groaning quietly.

This won't take long; nudity will come first, and then the buzz wears off, and they'll get dressed with flushed cheeks and pretend nothing happened.

They've been doing this for so long, Keith barely remembers anything different. This is where their friendship is demarcated.

One joint, and this boundary goes.

And all other times, they're just them--laughing, joking, with touches lingering a second too long but never more than that, never pushing, never brave enough even though Keith wants to be.

So they kiss. And so Shiro pushes off Keith's shirt, licks his neck and his collarbone until Keith is shivering, leaking into his underwear; then Shiro unbuttons his pants and pries open his fly, pulls out his dick and jerks it with two fingers in a tight circle.

Keith begins to shiver, moan; he pushes Shiro out of the way because he needs to *feel* more skin, the vast expanses of it, Shiro's muscle working underneath as he gets Keith off so, so good.

And when they're both naked, he pulls Shiro down on top of him.

He lets their cocks rub together, kissing Shiro deeply with his legs back around his waist, keeping him there, in place and close, and wondering if tonight he's brave enough to say, "Stay." If he's brave enough to say, "Closer."

They come together, like that, sharing hot air.

Keith hasn't decided yet.

He never has, at this point, but maybe tonight. Maybe tonight, he will.

{end}