#sheith non-sexual BDSM, post-war and Keith just doesnt know how to function. He has no schedule and so cat naps at odd times, is in the kitchen at 4am having dinner. He’s a mess.

Shiro decides to do something about it. He starts gently creating structure for Keith.

Regular mealtimes and checking in to make sure Keith’s not wearing the battle suit day after day. Shiro pairs it all with commands because he knows Keith will take any room to argue.

Sit, Shiro says. Eat, Shiro says.

After a healthy amount of exercise he sends Keith to the showers. When he comes back, as though seeking Shiro for his next instruction, Shiro knows just what to do.

“Kneel down.” He already has Keith’s brush. There’s a pillow for him to sit on.

He’s so used to following Shiros orders that he sinks down easily. Shiro squeezes his shoulder.

“Good.”

He takes the brush and starts untangling Keith’s hair. The man’s eyes flutter closed. Something pivotal about him relaxes. The shoulders fall.

Shiro coaxes them

Further with his brushing. He lets it take time, doting on Keith. Caring for him. He brushes through his wet hair and then braids it neat. It’s just how Keith likes.

When he’s finished though, he puts both hands back to Keith’s shoulders.

“Stay here a moment.” He says.

Shiro steps back and just looks at him. Eyes closed and kneeling there he makes an attractive picture. There’s an ease to him that Shiro doesn’t see enough.

He’s not on guard or fighting. Not arguing his position or trying to be taken seriously.

He’s just Keith.

Lovely, wondrous Keith, who’s been pushing himself too hard.

Shiro let’s the seconds then the minutes crawl by. Keith doesn’t fidget or open his eyes. Shiro said stay, so he stays. He trusts that Shiro will let him know when.

It’s intoxicating, the power. The

ability to relax Keith with just a few words and careful touches. There’s a lot to be said about that kind of trust, the weight Keith is putting in his hands.

After a while he steps back up to Keith, steadying him with hands on his shoulders.

“Alright,” Shiro says, “Up.”

—
After that Shiro takes up those reins more intentionally. Every Friday Keith comes to him when the work week is done, dragging his feel in the door.

Just a few words get him sprawled on the couch, head in Shiro’s lap.

“Close your eyes,” Shiro says. Keith does.

Shiro unwinds the braid, cards through the waves of dark hair. His nails trace lines across Keith’s skull.

When Keith is a softened puddle in his lap, he orders him up gently.

“Get the food from the fridge,” Shiro says.

Keith practically floats to the kitchen

and back, bringing the sealed Tupperware.

Finger foods.

Keith takes a seat on the couch and hands it over. “Close your eyes,” Shiro says.

Skittish the first time Shiro asked, now Keith slips right back into that easy space. His eyes shut and his lips part.

The first piece of fruit always gets a sound from Keith when it passes his lips. Like he can’t help it.

Keith’s hands twist in his lap. Shiro’s noticed these tells creeping up. It’s a need for more now that Keith’s normalizing to their routine.

“Just a moment,” Shiro says, setting the Tupperware aside.

He’s had a thought for days about this. If it might help. If Keith might like it.

Shiro walks quickly to his bedroom, and goes to his closet.

The tie Shiro finds near the back. He isn’t one for them these days, but he has a few silk pieces should the occasion call for it.

Not what he had in mind as far as occasions, but for this first test try it’ll do. The silk is soft but sturdy, and Shiro takes it back to the

living room.

Keith’s still there, seated and eyes closed. Waiting for Shiro.

Shiro retakes his seat and reaches for Keith’s hands. They’re twined together, but loosen at the first touch.

Slowly, projecting his intent, Shiro takes the silk tie and begins to

wind it around Keith’s wrist. First one and then the other, drawing them together.

He watches for any protest or sign of distress. Keith’s head tilts a little in curiosity, but he never opens his eyes.

The trust of it strikes Shiro over and over again. This is supposed

to be for Keith, but somehow it’s filling Shiro with a thing he didn’t even know he needed.

When Keith’s wrists are bound, he takes the ends and places them in Keith’s palm. His hands close around them in immediate understanding.

Right now they don’t need knots,

they probably don’t even need the tie. If Shiro asks, Keith would hold his wrists thusly.

But maybe a tangible reminder is helpful.

The rest of the finger foods Keith eats easily, hands at rest, shoulders down.

When Shiro cups his cheek at the end to check on him, the eyes that flutter open are drowsy. They look upon Shiro with soft focus. Ready for whatever he decides.

“Bed time,” Shiro says. “You haven’t been sleeping again.”

Keith at any other time would protest, but this Keith only nods in agreement.

Shiro doesn’t untie his hands but takes hold of their join to help Keith up. He’s a little unsteady on his feet but pretends not to be. Shiro pretends not to notice.

They go to Shiro’s bedroom.

It won’t be the first time Keith’s slept here, but it is still new. Shiro leads him to the bed and has him sit on the edge.

“Can I take care of you?” Shiro asks then. Usually at this point Shiro would leave him with an order to change into pajamas.

It doesn’t seem like the kind of night to leave him though. And Shiro wants to do this, wants to see how far this goes.

Keith nods.

It’s then that Shiro leans in to unwind his hands. Keith makes a small sound of protest when the tie ends are taken from him.

“Just for a moment.” He says. Keith blinks up at him, but let’s him do as he wants.

The tie comes off and Shiro reaches for the hem of Keith’s shirt. He watches Keith to make sure it’s okay as he slowly raises it up.

The first thing that Shiro notices is

Keith’s stomach. A little too flat. Keith’s always been trim, but there’s a line between that and underfed.

Shiro needs to make that a priority going forward. For now he leaves it, this is a space for relaxation, not distress.

The shirt comes off and Shiro detours

to his own wardrobe and grabs a soft, old sleep shirt. It’ll be a little big, but it should work.

Keith does the bare minimum to help, letting Shiro redress him in pajamas.

Once the shirt is on, Shiro rewinds the tie around Keith’s wrists. Keith smiles at him, warmly.

Then are the pants. Shiro doesn’t have anything that would fit his waist, but he hopes that’s okay. He knows Keith usually just wears a shirt and his underwear to bed.

Usually Shiro is only tangentially aware of that when he returns from Keith changing himself.

He’s not going to make it uncomfortable though. He would never abuse Keith’s trust like that.

“Stand up,” Shiro says a he takes Keith’s bound hand. Shiro steps in close, and their eyes meet. Something tender sits between them, flourishing to life.

“Hook your hands around my neck for balance.”

Keith has exceptional balance, and would never need this kind of support, but neither of them say it. Shiro’s head bends, and Keith hooks his hands over. They rest there against Shiros neck.

It’s almost as if they are dancing.

Shiros hand fall to his waist. Keith looks at him steadily, as if giving permission.

Then Shiro begins to ease the leggings off, one leg at a time. It’s not the best method twined together like this, but neither of them suggest anything else.

Keith leans into him as he steps out with one leg and then the other. The leggings are abandoned on the floor.

Shiro is acutely aware then that Keith is almost pressed up against him, wearing little else but one of Shiros shirts.

Their eyes meet again and then Keith

looks away, a little shy. At least that’s the best guess Shiro could make.

Shiro bends his head and helps Keith’s hands unhook from his neck.

“Time to brush your teeth.”

This too is usually left to Keith, but Shiro is all in now. That, and he’s pretty certain neither

of them want Keith’s hands unbound just yet.

They go to the bathroom where Keith had a dedicated toothbrush. He puts paste on it and then turns to Keith.

“Open.”

The order brings a little more sureness back to Keith. He does so, and Shiro leans in.

It’s… odd doing this for someone else. Not bad, but it’s certainly not a care task he’s ever even done for a partner.

It’s feels somehow like it would only happen

with Keith. Shiro works the toothbrush in his mouth and tries to imagine doing this for anyone else, but can’t. This is far too invasive and familiar.

They finish and then Shiro offers to unbind his hands for a moment to use the restroom. Keith nods.

They’re apart for just a few moments, and when Keith comes back into the bedroom, he silently offers his wrists again.

“I’ll have to take it off before you fall asleep,” Shiro says. Although the bonding is loose, he’d never risk Keith’s lovely hands.

Keith nods.

Shiro winds the tie once more and then they move to the bed. Shiro asks Keith to sit.

“Close your eyes,” he says. “And I’ll be right back.”

Shiro waits until Keith does so, then goes back to the bathroom. Shiro does a quick change, bathroom, and clean of his own teeth.

It’s early to be going to bed, but Shiro figures that’s alright. They both have had such long weeks.

When he returns to the bedroom Keith is just as he left him.

“Good job,” Shiro says softly as he steps back up to the bed. Keith’s head tilts up, following the sound of his

voice.

It’s such a simple, attentive gesture, and it strikes Shiro in the heart. Then he can’t really can’t help himself, he bends and presses a kiss to Keith’s forehead.

Keith’s lips part on an unvoiced gasp. As if surprised Shiro could love him so tenderly. Surely

he must know.

But if he doesn’t, Shiro has all the time in the world now to show him. To take care of him.

He gets on the bed, pulling back the covers and then guiding Keith down onto the bed.

Shiro looks his fill, taking in the blush rising across his cheeks and

the way he licks his lips.

“Okay, you can open your eyes,” Shiro says after a minute of this. He’s laid down on the pillow beside Keith, facing him.

The eyes that flutter open are a little drowsy, and much more at ease than when he arrived. It feels like the greatest

of gifts to be able to give this to Keith. To help him rest.

Under the blankets he reaches for the tied bundle of Keith’s wrists. His thumb idly tracing over the silk then skin.

“Good?” Shiro asks.

“Yeah,” Keith says on a gust of a sigh.

There’s another question

Shiro wants to ask, and he weighs it.

Then decides if Keith truly doesn’t know, he should. Shiro shouldn’t wait.

“In the morning,” Shiro says, “I’d like to kiss you, would that be okay?”

Keith blinks slow, taking it in. Then a smile curls one side of his mouth.

“Yeah,” he says, “it would.”

Shiros thumb smooths over Keith’s knuckles.

“Alright. Now sleep for me, okay?”

“And in the morning…?” Keith asks. Not trying to disobey the order, but maybe wanting to hear Shiro say it again.

“In the morning I’ll kiss you.”

Keith tucks his head, shy, and Shiro curls his arm around him. Keith scoots in to cuddle close.

He sighs again, the last

of the tension going out of him.

Shiro holds him tight until he feels the steady, deep breaths of sleep. Then carefully, Shiro unwinds the silk from Keith’s wrists before he lets himself settle in.

The room is dark and quiet, at ease. Keith is sleeping gently,

face pressed to Shiros sleep shirt.

And in the morning, Shiro thinks as he closes his eyes, they’ll take the next step.

/END

Apologies for not finishing that one for far too long!!

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