#turns out my brother was just breaking down some big cardboard boxes to recycle. there was a lot of stomping and smashing tho jeez

[naomiknight-17]

Sometimes the folks upstairs make a lot of noise and I just want to check in to make sure no-one fell or got hurt or anything, but asking that plainly gets boring so...

Anyway. Sounds like everything's fine and I need not worry

[cerulienne]

The Best Greens In My Garden [ao3]

Lan Zhan's fancy new apartment comes with a decidedly un-fancy neighbor.

That neighbor has a decidedly confusing habit.

Well, confusing to Lan Zhan, anyway.

updates thursdays & sundays on ao3!

chapter 1: i’m here for you

If Lan Zhan were to try and name all of the places he feels truly comfortable, he would find the list to be not very long at all. His childhood home, for one; his office for another. A park with a koi pond near his uncle’s house. The six apartments he’s occupied in four years? They do not make the cut.

Staring at a small school of neon tetras in the lobby of his new building, he hopes that this one will finally break that unlucky streak.

The complex boasts a compost program, energy-efficient appliances, and solar panels. Its insulation and exterior siding are both made from recycled material. A committee of property managers, all of them residents of the building, take the place of a landlord. Near the entrance stands the no-fertilizer, no-filter fishtank that currently occupies most of Lan Zhan’s field of view.

“‘Mutual benefit,’” Lan Huan reads from a little plaque beside the tank. Lan Zhan watches the tetras. “‘A symbiotic relationship between habitat and resident.’ Cute.”

The metaphor is a little heavy-handed for Lan Zhan’s taste, but he can’t argue that they’re not cute. Big-eyed and metallic, they dart through the weeds, pausing to glint red and blue among the green. Footsteps approach from his left; he blinks and straightens up. The tall form of his brother stands beside him, hands tucked neatly behind his back.

“Is that the last one?” Lan Huan asks. He tilts his head to indicate the large cardboard box at Lan Zhan’s feet.

“Yes.” Lan Zhan turns away from the tank to pick up the box, lifting it easily despite its bulk. “Thank you for your help today.”

“I wish I could stay to help you unpack,” Lan Huan sighs.

“You have a long drive back. Opening boxes with me would not be worth the delay,” Lan Zhan says. “I will manage alone.”

Lan Huan half-laughs, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “Trust me, I’d much rather be sorting your cutlery than braving the highway at this hour. But before I go…”

A smaller box appears on top of the one Lan Zhan is carrying.

“What —”

“A housewarming gift.” Lan Huan says with a grin. “Open it later, when you’re tired of unpacking.”

Lan Zhan purses his lips in a tiny smile. “I will. Thank you again.”

He doesn’t see any other tenants on the elevator ride up, and his hallway is empty of any life. He breathes a sigh of relief. Moving apartments is always an exercise in overstimulation. Too many objects and faces to keep track of. Too many trips up and down various staircases. Too many people to introduce oneself to. It’s all… a lot, even for someone as level-headed (and, lately, experienced in the subject) as he.

At least, with experience, he has the first twenty-four hours down solid. Everything he’ll need for his first night in the new place is in clearly-marked boxes, many of which have already been opened and organized. All he needs to do is order some food for delivery, make his bed, and go to sleep.

He balances the last box — the one he knows contains the electric tea kettle and the alarm clock — neatly on one arm to pull out his keys.

He’s fumbling with the lock when the door across the hall opens. A loud laugh rings through the hallway. Lan Zhan jerks at the noise and his brother’s gift slides off the box, heading for the sustainably-grown bamboo floor. He watches it fall in slow-motion, wondering if the gift is fragile, before he sees a hand shoot out to catch it just before it hits the wood.

The hand swings out of sight again. Lan Zhan shifts the box to his side so he can get a better look at the person it’s attached to.

He’s taller than Lan Zhan, just a little, lean but muscled, with a deep and freckled tan. His dark hair is wild, barely contained by a red bandana and a pair of sunglasses. He’s wearing a triumphant smile. His other hand is holding a cell phone to his ear; Lan Zhan can just barely hear a tinny voice coming through the speaker. On the tips of the stranger’s outstretched fingers — one of those fingers has a tattoo, a black sprig of leaves — Lan Huan’s gift is balanced like a trophy.

“I can hold this while you unlock your door,” he offers, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

Lan Zhan looks him up and down, taking in the rest of the stranger’s — of his new neighbor’s — uh, — anyway, he’s dirty. His jeans have holes in the knees, and not fashionable I-bought-them-like-this holes; they’re worn through and threadbare and dusty. His boots are half-laced and covered in dried mud. The rolled-up sleeves of his flannel — unbuttoned and falling off of one shoulder — are in a similar state, as is the black tank top underneath.

He tilts his head a little to catch Lan Zhan’s eye, and that’s when Lan Zhan realizes he’s been staring. His ears and cheeks burn.

“Just a moment,” he says, and whirls around to face the door again. He thinks he unlocks it faster than he’s ever unlocked a door before, and thanks the gods that it doesn’t stick.

Behind him, the stranger speaks quietly into his phone. “Hold on, a-Jie, I’m helping someone with something. Don’t hang up, I’ll just be a second.”

Lan Zhan sets the box down just inside the door. His neighbor is still smiling there, head tilted like a curious puppy. He holds the gift box out, still balanced on the tips of his fingers.

Lan Zhan takes it, a little too quickly maybe, and his neighbor drops his hand.

“Thank you,” he says. His neighbor catches his eye again and smiles even wider.

“No problem,” he says. He snaps his fingers, makes a finger-guns gesture, winks, and Lan Zhan is so caught up in coordination of it all that he almost misses it when he adds —

“I’m here for you, babe!”

He disappears down the hallway with a wave. Lan Zhan, frozen in place, hears his conversation continue in a bright, laughing voice.

“Babe?” Lan Zhan mumbles.

[lasersheith]

Hey everyone! Like I mentioned here and here: I decided to open a ko-fi account because of some unexpected medical stuff and I’m thanking everyone who donates with drabbles! I’ve already gotten over $100 so far and it’s helped so much, seriously thank you all, you’re incredible. I’ll pump these out as quickly as I can!

Lia @otasucc didn’t request a prompt, so I went with the sweetest, sappiest sheith I could come up with because she’s an angel and it’s what she deserves.

(this is loosely based on how my brother “proposed” to his now wife lol) 

Having a day off from the Garrison was unusual, and an unexpected one even more so. But shortly after Keith had left for the day, Shiro had gotten a call saying there was a problem in the flight lab and he had the day off. It had been a while since he'd taken a day off outside of the holidays, the last time had probably been only months after hanging up his paladin armor (hopefully) for good.

He decided to grab a few more hours of sleep, though it was harder without the warm weight of Keith at his side. He let himself have a lazy morning, reading a few chapters of his favorite book while he sipped at his tea on the back porch. Around midday he decided to do something productive, something that would be nice for Keith to come home to.

They'd been meaning to clean out the garage for weeks, monsoon season was quickly approaching and there still wasn't quite enough room for Keith's hoverbike. It was the perfect project to keep him busy for the afternoon.

It was amazing to him how much clutter two people so used to having only the clothes on their backs could collect in just a few years. Shiro made lightly organized piles of junk to sort through before tackling the large set of shelves in the corner where Keith stored all his tools. In general, Keith was tidy and orderly, but he'd left a wrench here or a socket there, so Shiro gathered them up to put them back in their places.

He paused as he opened the third drawer. A small black box sat at the bottom of it, unobscured. Shiro grinned as he dropped the hex keys in his hand and picked up the box instead. Just as he'd thought, there was a ring inside.

It looked like it was made in tungsten and Shiro had to smile at Keith's thoughtfulness. He would know that Shiro would want something sturdy, something that wouldn't break or scratch. He held up the shiny dark gray ring to the light to see the inscription. As many times as it takes.

Shiro swallowed back the lump in his throat. It taken years for him to admit how much those words had meant to him at the time, and Keith had acted like it was nothing. As though, “of course I'll always be there to save you, how could I not be,” was just a given. He smiled as he slipped the ring on- it was a perfect fit.

..

Keith opened the garage door and smiled as he saw the neat stack of broken down cardboard boxes in the recycling, the freshly hung kayaks on the wall, the tidied shelves. He pulled his bike into the now clean spot just big enough for it to fit.

He hung his helmet up on the hook just inside the door as he walked in. “Shiro? Thanks for cleaning out the garage!” He called as he headed for the bedroom to change.

He found Shiro in the kitchen when he was finished and pressed a kiss to his cheek in greeting. Shiro turned and caught his lips playfully. “How was work?” He asked fondly, stir fry suddenly forgotten in favor of staring at Keith.

Keith laughed and turned the burner off. “It was fine. How was not work?” Shiro grinned at him as Keith grabbed a pair of bowls from the cabinet. “What?” Keith asked, setting them down on the counter before moving to sling his arms around Shiro's shoulders. “You're being weird.” He accused teasingly.

“I love you.” Shiro replied, leaning down to kiss him again. He wrapped his arms around Keith's waist to pull him closer.

Keith chuckled into the kiss. “I love you, too. Even though you're being super weird.” He piled both bowls high with the slightly undercooked food. It was better than Shiro's other setting, which was burnt to charcoal. Shiro grabbed them each a glass of water and headed to the table. He handed Keith’s glass over very slowly and exaggeratedly with his left hand. Keith shook his head but didn't ask.

He glanced across the table at Shiro as they ate and smiled. It was nice having a quiet, home cooked meal together. He frowned a little as he saw a glint of light reflected off of Shiro's left hand. His not-usually-metallic left hand. His eyes widened when he spotted the ring. “What… what is that?” He asked, blood running cold.

Shiro grinned. “Oh, you know, I was cleaning up your work bench and saw it. Excellent choice, by the way.” He held his hand up and smiled at it. “Exactly what I would have picked out myself. I love the inscription, that was a good touch.” He reached across the table and grabbed Keith's hand, squeezing it lightly. “The receipt was almost a year old, though, I hope you didn't change your mind.” His smile was bright and the hints of blue in his steel gray eyes sparkled with fondness.

Keith looked down at Shiro's hand wrapped around his in shock. He’d been trying for months to come up with the perfect proposal but he hadn't been able to come up with anything concrete.

Now it looked like he didn't have to. “I…” he couldn't make himself look away from the glittering band on Shiro's finger. “No, of course not!” He finally blurted out, wrenching his eyes to Shiro's face and his body from the chair.

He was in front of Shiro in a flash, years of peace had done little to dull his skills or his reflexes. Shiro turned slowly to smile at him. Keith wasn't sure exactly what his face was doing, the thudding in his heart was taking all his attention. He knelt down on the spot, crouched between Shiro's legs in their small kitchen.

Keith reached for Shiro's hand at the same time Shiro started lowering it and they met in the middle. “It… it looks good on you.” Keith whispered out quietly.

Shiro smiled again. “It does. You did great, Keith.”

Keith swallowed and licked his lips, mouth suddenly dry, before looking up. “Shiro, will you… will you marry me?” The earnest, worried tone in voice and the serious and determined expression on his face made Shiro laugh.

“Of course.” He cupped Keith's face in his hands and leaned down to press their lips together. “Of course I will, Keith.”

Keith's smile lit up the room and his eyes welled with tears as he wrapped his arms around Shiro's shoulders.