Accidental sugar daddy Keith #sheith au where Keith’s a hotshot tech developer with a lot of money but not a lot of free time.

He’s more than capable of handling all the little to do projects around his house he’s just busy.

But six months after moving into his new house he’s yet to build his bookshelves or set up his coffee machine (and ends up at Starbucks every day) and is tired of all the unfinished projects.

In a fit of late night frustration he hires a handyman off craigslist.

It’s one of the stupider things Keith’s done but he’s a black belt and can handle himself if the guy turns out to be a serial killer.

Saturday morning when Keith’s doorbell rings at nine am he stumbles to answer the door in nothing but a pair of black silk pajama bottoms.

Standing on the doorstep is the most beautiful man Keith has ever seen—tall enough to shield him from the early morning sun and wide. So wide. He’s got a shock of white hair and a smile sweet enough to give him a toothache.

“Are you Mr. Kogane?” He asks and fuck his voice is just as sweet.

“That’s me but you can call me, Keith,” he mumbles, wishing he’d brushed his hair and trying not to stare at the tool belt cinched up around the man’s itty bitty waist.

“I’m here to service you,” he says grinning. It’s hard for Keith to believe he doesn’t realize how laced with innuendo that sentence just was but he’s standing there still grinning like a Boy Scout so Keith has no fucking idea if it was on purpose.

“Service me,” Keith repeats, wishing he had a dark roast coffee in hand to make his social floundering at least a tiny bit more bearable.

It’s too fucking early for someone this handsome to be standing in front of him.

He was prepared for someone helpful but weird to come over.

He was prepared to hide in the other room catching up on work while his last minute handy man did his to do list for him.

He was not prepared for a human Adonis to show up while he was still in pajamas.

It’s somehow the best and worst case scenario all at once and Keith’s not sure if he should be cursing his luck or thanking his lucky stars.

“You uh...you did want the full service right?” He asks, demeanor shifting.

Keith racks his brain to try and recall what the hell that means. “Errr—yes.”

The man lets out a sigh, shoulders dropping. “Oh good. Okay, great. Business has been a little slow it’s uh...hard to get the word out you know. You’re actually my first client from Craigslist.”

“How do you normally get clients?” Keith asks.

“Oh you know, word of mouth mostly. This is sort of a new career path. Not that I’m not qualified. I promise you I am.”

“I’m sure you are,” Keith agrees.

Truthfully he has no idea what makes someone qualified to be a handyman but he’s got hammers and measuring tapes hanging from his waist and it certainly looks legit.

At this point he could’ve showed up empty handed and Keith still would’ve invited him in.

Speaking of which—Keith is being an asshole.

“Shit, sorry. Come inside,” he says, stepping to make room for him. “Do you want a coffee or something?”

Shiro’s eyes perk up. “Oh if you’re making some I would love a cup.”

“What kind do you want?” Keith asks, grabbing his phone off the entry way table.

“Uh...whatever kind you have. I usually just drink what’s on sale. Can’t say I’m too picky about brew type or anything.”

Keith’s heart does a stupid flip flop thing when Shiro smiles.

He’s so stupidly ridiculously cute that Keith can’t even be horrified there are people who don’t have coffee presences.”

“I was going to Uber Eat Starbucks.”

Shiro’s smile falters and though he corrects it swiftly enough, Keith definitely noticed.

“Actually that’s alright. I wouldn’t want to be a bother.”

“It’s fine,” Keith says, flipping open the app—his most used app. “I desperately need a quad americano. I can just add on something for you.”

Shiro clears his throat, confidence wavering. “I uh can’t really afford Starbucks. But thank you for the offer it’s very kind.”

Keith pauses mid americano order, lifting his gaze to Shiro’s. Oh.

Oh.

Money. It’s about money.

“I meant on me. My treat. Consider it a thank you for fitting me in so quickly.”

“Oh it was no bother I didn’t have any other clients,” Shiro says.

He’s so earnest Keith wants to scream. He didn’t know men like this actually existed outside of Hallmark movies.

“I’ll feel guilty drinking Starbucks in front of you. Please let me buy you something,” Keith tries.

It’s not true. Keith doesn’t have a guilt complex. Not even a little bit.

But Keith’s hunch tells him it’ll work and for reasons he’s unwilling to exam he wants to buy this pretty man a coffee.

“I mean...if you’re sure,” he says, hooking a thumb into his tool belt and leaning back against the wall.

“I’m sure,” Keith says, suddenly really fucking thirsty.

“Just a small drip coffee would be nice,” Shiro says, smiling sweetly.

Keith furrows his eyebrows. “No one actually wants drip coffee from Starbucks.”

Shiro barks out a laugh, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “I mean I would be okay with anything.”

“Yeah but what do you *want*?” Keith asks, unsure why he cares so much about buying the handyman something special.

Shiro hums a noncommittal spins and for a second Keith thinks he’s not going to answer. Then he pushes off the wall and shoves his hands in his pockets.

“I Uh...really love the caramel macchiatos.”

Keith grins feeling victorious. “Venti?”

“That would be nice,” Shiro says. “Usually I only splurge for them when I get a free drink on my birthday.”

Keith bites the inside of his cheek to stop from smiling. Shiro is too fucking sweet.

“Anything else?” You strikes me as pastry kind of man.

“Oh no I couldn’t let you buy that too,” Shiro says.

Keith wants to argue but he doesn’t want to press his luck. Instead he adds a lemon loaf slice and a croissant to his order without asking.

Keith makes good use of the wait between their order arriving, directing Shiro to the kitchen and the leaky sink before sprinting upstairs to his room, running a wet washcloth under his pits and then vainly attempting to brush his hair.

It doesn’t help much so Keith settles for shoving his hair up into a messy bun before shamelessly pulling on his tightest pair of jeans a loose red tank top.

By the time he runs downstairs, his phone is buzzing alerting him to the arrival of his contactless Starbucks order.

He retrieved the drinks and pastries, then meanders into the kitchen.

When he walks in it’s to see Shiro on his hands and knees and his head shoved under the sink—and his beautiful ass in the air.

It’s a good fucking view and Keith takes his time walking across the room, extra quiet so as not to startle Shiro.

“Coffee’s here,” Keith announces.

“Great, just a second,” Shiro helps, voice garbled with his head in the cabinet.

“Take your time,” Keith grins, hopping up onto the barstool and and popping off the lid of his own coffee. He blows off the steam, eyes riveted to the swell of Shiro’s ass.

It's not how Keith expected things to go but he's always been flexible and he's not the least bit bothered that he's not going to get a single bit of work done this morning. He works his own ass off nearly twenty four seven and rarely actually takes the weekends off.

As his own boss, he's definitely going to give himself the morning off to appreciate the sexy handyman in his kitchen.

"So I have good news and bad news," Shiro says when he removes himself from beneath the sink.

"Alright, hit me with it," Keith says, positive that nothing could be bad coming out of that pretty mouth.

"Good news is I can definitely fix your sink today. Bad news is I'm going to need to replace ones of the pipes."

"That's fine."

Shiro seems surprised by Keith's reaction. "Well, the pipe is just a little more than the quote for fixing a leak since it requires a new part. I can go ahead and do it for cost though since you bought me a coffee."

"Wait how much should the cost actually be?"

"Well with the replacement pipe and the labor, a plumber would charge you about $150 and I'd normally charge you about $80."

"Shiro your coffee cost $6 you're not going to undercharge me because of that."

Shiro clears his throat and shrugs. "I like to help people and you seem nice.

Keith nearly wheezes imagining how many people must take advantage of Shiro's generosity. Especially if he can barely afford a cup of coffee.

"Well just do the work. We can discuss prices afterwards. I'm sure you're more than worth the going rate and I can afford to pay."

"Alright, if you're sure."

"I'm sure," Keith says, pushing Shiro's macchiato across the kitchen island.

"Ok great. Let me just get a sip of coffee and then I'll get started."

"No need to rush. Also, hypothetical question but what's better--lemon loaf or croissant?"

"Lemon loaf obviously. It's got that little bit of frosting on the top. Why?"

"Oh wow look at that, it's your lucky day," Keith grins, inordinately pleased with himself as he pushes the bag with the lemon loaf across the counter.

Shiro's thick eyebrows knit together as he reaches for the bag, peering inside. "Keith you didn't have to."

"Yeah, but I wanted to."

"Oh, well thank you. You definitely get a discount on services then."

"If it makes you happy," Keith says, stomach swooping as he watches Shiro pull out the slice of loaf cake. It looks tiny in his massive hands.

When he takes a bite little bits of lemon frosting get stuck to his mouth and he grins, ducking his head as he licks them off. He's basically the sweetest thing Keith's ever seen.

After finishing his treat, Shiro gets right to work. Keith feigns needing the natural lighting in the kitchen to work on his laptop, but gets approximately zero actual work done.

Instead he spends the entire time watching Shiro work.

Shiro on his back is a thing of glory, his legs spread and his thighs on display as he works at the faucet. At one point he grabs the bottom of his white t-shirt to rub water off his face, but when he lets go of it the shirt stays rucked halfway up his stomach.

Keith's pretty proud of his level of fitness, but he's never seen abs like Shiro's in real life. There's a sharp cut along his hipbones, rippling muscles and a trail of dark hair that disappears below his low rise jeans.

Keith jabs his keyboard so hard the shift button sticks.

By the time Shiro's finished, Keiths managed to do fuck all except take a personality test (apparently he's stubborn), google the going rate for handymen (twice what Shiro is charging) and send Hunk a message on discord about his dilemma ("That's not a dilemma, buddy" he insists)

"I think that's about it. Unless you had anything else you wanted me to take a look at before I go."

Truthfully Keith had only planned to let him do the sink. Everything else that needs doing are things Keith can handle if he just takes some more time off work.

Keith could let him him go, maybe try to send him a message later to get him to come back. Except, Keith doesn't really want Shiro to leave.

Not yet.

Decision made, Keith shuts his laptop. "How much do you know about building bookshelves?"

"Oh I can do those easy," Shiro grins, looking pleased by the suggestion. Just point me to the boxes and I can have them built for you in no time.

"Perfect," Keith says.

"Perfect," Shiro echoes, lips curling up in the corner.

Keith's a fucking goner.

Three hours later Shiro has built both of Keith’s bookcases, helped him carry the boxes of books in from the garage (Keith didn’t technically need help but he liked the way Shiro’s arm muscles bulged when he lifted things) and fixed the broken lock on Keith’s side gate.

He’s also learned a great deal more about his handyman—Shiro, he reminds himself.

Like the fact that Shiro wasn’t always a handyman. That he took up the job about six months ago at the suggestion of his physical therapist.

Apparently he’d lost his arm in a car accident and lost his high paced career as a result. His therapist had suggested finding something to do to occupy his mind and his new prosthetic. He’d started off helping friends and discovered he had a knack for fixing things.

It made Shiro feel good to be helping.

the biggest problem so far as Keith could see was that anytime someone couldn’t pay—which apparently happened a lot since Shiro had a knack for attracting cute old people who couldn’t hang their own pictures—he just didn’t charge them.

This results in a half hour discussion about the necessity of capitalism for survival during which Shiro confesses to living on top ramen and store brand coffee if it means helping out someone in need.

Keith decides right then and there if no one else is going to make sure Shiro doesnt starve to death that Keith might as well.

Shiro is amazing but has the self protection skills of a toddler.

Despite Keith’s desire to keep Shiro all day (and night)—both to give him the work and because Keith selfishly enjoys the company—he gets a text from Hunk about a last minute client request that Keith can’t turn down.

When Shiro asks if Keith has anything else he needs help with, he’s disappointed that he needs to say no.

“Of course. Well I’m glad I could help you help you out today. It was my pleasure,” Shiro says, packing up the last of his tools back into his bag.

“How much do I owe you?” Keith asks, reaching for his wallet.

“Well the plumbing is $80 and I usually just charge $30 bucks an hour for odd jobs but it’s my fault it took me to long to build the bookshelves since I talked so much.”

It’s not even remotely Shiro’s fault since Keith was the one who asked how exactly Shiro had gotten into the handyman business and had been more than encouraging and Shiro opening up.

“Why don’t we we just say $140 does that seem fair?” Shiro asks with a smile.

It’s not even remotely fair—for Shiro that is. Keith’s earlier googling let him know that the going rate for Shiro’s services was at least double what he was charging in their area.

Unfortunately Keith has a stupid project to work on and doesn’t have time to argue.

“Do you accept tips?” Keith asks, flipping open his wallet and counting out $140.

“Oh, um—it’s not necessary.”

“But if I wanted to tip you for the excellent service would you take it?” Keith asks, wallet still open.

He can see the hesitation in Shiro’s eyes and he also knows how much Shiro needs the money.

He knows his next words are playing dirty but Keith knows how to get what he wants.

“Maybe you could treat yourself to some good coffee this week.”

The words work like a charm, any resistance Shiro might’ve had crumbling.

“I do love coffee.”

“Good then it’s settled,” Keith says, discreetly sliding a crisp hundred dollar bill between the twenties before folding them in half and passing it to Shiro.

“Thanks again, Shiro.”

Shiro smiles, helping his bag over his shoulder before pocketing the money without even counting it (“Too trusting” Keith’s brain screams)

“It was really nice meeting you, Keith. I hope I’ll see you around sometime.”

“Oh I’m sure you will,” Keith grins, already thinking about all the odd jobs he can invent around the house just to get Shiro to come back.

When Shiro leaves, Keith feels lighter than he has in months.

Shiro’s company was good for Keith—not just because his stupid sink isn’t leaking anymore or because his book collection is finally unpacked—but because Keith genuinely enjoyed his company.

Outside of Hunk who’s been Keith’s best friend since high school—Keith’s not the most social person. He goes out to the bar once a month with Hunk and Hunk’s other friends (who Hunk insists are now Keith’s friends too but Keith has a hard time using the words).

He’s got business associates galore—though most of them he communicates with through zoom or email.

He can’t remember the last time he had a nice conversation with someone else like he had with Shiro, not even on his last date.

Not that it was a date. Keith paid Shiro to be there so it’s definitely not even date adjacent.

But it’s impossible to deny that Shiro had been easy to talk to. And also smart and witty and aside from the blazing attraction, Keith also liked Shiro as a person.

He likes Shiro so much he’s struggling getting into his work project despite the short deadline—too busy trying to figure out the appropriate amount of time to wait to ask Shiro to come back when his doorbell rings.

To Keith’s complete and utter surprise the person on the other side of the door is Shiro looking a little breathless and flushed.

“Hi. Sorry to just come unannounced but you gave me too much money.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah I know. I couldn’t twice just to be sure. I was at the grocery store and I went to pay and realized you’d accidentally put a hundred in there. Came back as soon as I realized,” Shiro tells him holding the money out.

Keith has the very sudden urge to punch himself and see if he’s dreaming.

Not only did Shiro misunderstand the money he brought it back. People this honest just don’t exist. Or at least Keith didn’t think they did.

"Shiro, that was a *tip*."

Shiro's eyes widen comically as he mouth falls open. "That's too much."

"No it's not," Keith scoffs. He'd wanted to tip more but had been afraid Shiro wouldn't accept it.

"That's...oh."

A bit of pink rises high on Shiro's cheekbones. It's a nice look on him. Keith's hard pressed to imagine anything that wouldn't be though.

"I was gonna wait but since you're here. Are you busy next week?"

"No," Shiro answers. "I'm not busy."

"I didn't even tell you what day," Keith laughs.

Shiro's blush deepens but his smile doesn't falter. "I can be not busy for you any day of the week."

Pride swells in Keith's gut. He'd been pretty sure from the little glances Shiro sent his way that he was attracted to Keith but it always feels good to have proof of a mutual attraction.

"Great. I've got a few more jobs I could use your help with."

"Good. Great," Shiro grins, pocketing the hundred with a bashful smile. "What day?"

"Saturday," Keith answers, trying to give himself a reasonable amount of time to figure out what the fuck he might possibly need help with.

"Saturday," Shiro echoes. "Guess I'll see you then."

Work is so hectic that's it not until Friday night that Keith realizes he has no jobs for Shiro.

In a fit of post work hunger induced delirium he ends up at Target buying a frozen pizza, a family size bag of Doritos and a fucking credenza.

Keith's not sure what he's going to do with it, especially since he never actually eats in his dining room (and didn't even know what a credenza was before tonight), but its the biggest piece of furniture he can fit in his sports car so it has to do.

Once home, and stuffed full of objectively crappy frozen pizza (a takeaway from growing up poor), Keith begins to question the judgement of buying furniture for Shiro to build.

It’s far too late to change his mind though so he falls asleep dreaming about Shiro’s big hands.

“Oh more furniture,” Shiro says when he arrives the next day.

He’s wearing another pair of jeans that look painted on and a white t-shirt so thin it’s almost transparent. It’s got to be on purpose.

Keith really fucking hopes it’s on purpose.

“Yeah,” he finally responds when he can think with his other head. “More furniture.”

“Did you just move in?” Shiro asks, pulling a box cutter out of his tool belt and slicing the box open.

“Me? No. Just uh...finally decorating. I stay pretty busy with work and I never got it around to it. Once I saw how nice the bookshelves were I thought it might be nice to do the rest.”

He omits the part where he just bought it last night ten minutes before closing.

There’s something very zen about watching Shiro work. He’s methodical as he unpacks the furniture, reading the manual from front to back before laying out all the pieces in a very particular order.

Keith forgets that he’s supposed to be pretending to do something else and slides down onto the floor—legs pulled up to his chest and chin on his knees.

Most days keith buzzes with restlessness—anxiety and stress his norm.

Sitting on the floor, watching Shiro, he’s more relaxed than he has been in months.

Screwdriver in hand Shiro turns his head to look at Keith. Before he can be embarrassed about being caught so blatantly staring Shiro just smiles—bright as the sun.

“Can you pass me a screw. The one labeled A.”

Keith nods, reaching for one of the long screws near his foot and holds it out to Shiro. Shiro’s fingers brush against his as he takes the screw, something knowing in his eyes.

“Thanks, Keith.”

Heat floods Keith’s body at the way Shiro says his name. He wants to hear it again.

“Do you need any help?” Keith asks, feeling bold.

“Thought you were paying me to do it,” Shiro says.

It’s not a no.

When it comes time to pay, Keith makes sure Shiro is watching as he adds two crisp one hundred dollar bills to the payment.

“Keith, no,” Shiro chokes.

“Keith yes,” he grins, sliding the money directly into Shiro’s pocket—slower than need be as his fingers slide in.

The pink blush appears again, spreading across the bridge of Shiro’s nose as Keith presses the money further down into Shiro’s very tight pocket.

“You did good today, Shiro. I was very happy with your work.”

Keith knows he’s being a shit, wiggling his fingers and watching as Shiro sucks in a breath.

“Yeah?”

Testing his luck, Keith pulls his fingers out of the pocket and gives Shiro’s tool belt a playful tug. “You like being a good boy?”

It’s clearly not what Shiro is expecting Keith to ask because he makes a sound halfway between a wheeze and choking.

Keith laughs, delighted at the rosy flush on Shiro’s face.

“Please say I can see you again,” Keith says, abandoning all pretenses of playing it cool.

“You can see me whenever you want,” Shiro answers, licking his lips.

Keith’s got a busy week ahead and once again no idea what the hell he needs help with but he doesn’t quite care.

“Friday,” he says, mentally penciling in seeing Shiro as a reward for getting through the week

Keith manages to refrain from buying any new furniture and comes up with a handful of jobs for outside including fixing the side gate, trimming the hedges and mowing the lawn.

Keith apologizes for all the gardening but Shiro looks genuinely happy about the request.

“I like getting my hands dirty,” he says, dropping his tool belt to the grass.

It makes Keith want to drop to his knees.

Shiro dripping sweat should be illegal—shirt wet enough Keith can see the outline of dusty nipples.

When Shiro mows the lawn, Keith has to excuse himself to the bathroom to shove his face under the shower and try not to be a horny raging idiot.