Thread by @keefsimp

Since we’re apparently all horny for postal workers at the same time, #sheith au with mailman Shiro

Thread:

The postman who works Keith’s street is undoubtedly the most beautiful man on the planet. Keith knows this because even though the postal service uniform is nothing special, on him it is.

On him, that baby blue shirt hugs tight to biceps that are as big around as Keith’s leg, and those shorts ride a little higher than regulation length due to the thick thighs and tiny waist inhabiting them.

The socks are an extra detail. One the uniform doesn’t require but that Keith certainly does. Because the way they hug the thickest part of his calf does something to Keith’s brain that makes him want to tug them off with his teeth and bite the skin that is revealed.

He’s big and broad, but had he been /only/ big and broad, Keith might not be in so deep. He likes muscles as much as the next person, but what really gets him is the way the man pushes up the brim of his cap so that his fluffy white bangs are visible on his forehead.

The way that he wears pink heart shaped sunglasses in a way that is so unnecessarily cute it makes Keith want to scream. But the biggest thing, the thing that made Keith’s heart leave his chest only to take up residence in someone else’s is the man’s smile.

The smile that he gives Keith so freely as they meet in Keith’s doorway. It feels like a gift just for him. Because he always knocks.

Always waits for Keith to open the door. Pushes back his sunglasses, almost knocking his cap off, just so Keith can see the way his grey eyes crinkle when he smiles down at him.

It’s the way he places Keith’s package carefully in his hands before bending down to scritch Kosmo’s head. Kosmo, whom all his neighbors are afraid of. Kosmo who is at least half wolf and weighs as much as Keith. Shiro pets him as if he is the sweetest dog in the world.

So sue him. Keith orders a lot of packages.

But how can he help it? The postman is beautiful and kind and loves Keith’s dog. Keith never stood a chance.

He now wonders whether Kosmo is in on it. Kosmo who last week tore up Keith’s couch, and his beanbag chair, and one of his barstools.

Keith had glared, increasingly suspicious as Kosmo innocently watched him add furniture to his online cart before whoofing as Keith checked out.

And now it’s delivery day, so Keith waits. He always likes to be home on delivery days. Obviously. But today is even more important, because no way he’s letting the sweet and sexy mailman carry Keith’s furniture all by himself.

So when he hears the truck pull up outside his house, he’s ready. He’s been laying around in his shoes for gods sake.

He takes a quick swipe through his hair with his hand and walks out, not even bothering to look in a mirror.

When he gets outside, he can see that the back of the truck is already open, and he has a glorious view of the mailman’s ass in those little shorts.

Keith really wishes he knew his name. Maybe today he’ll find out.

Having left the door open behind him in order to make carrying furniture easier, he’s not surprised to find Kosmo trotting along beside him.

Keith can’t blame him. Kosmo likes the postman almost as much as he does.

Poking his head into the back of the truck, he raps twice so as not to startle the man.

“Knock, knock,” he says. “Thought you could use some help.”

The man turns around, sunglasses already pushed up beneath his cap, brows raised in confusion that quickly melts into a gorgeous smile.

“Keith,” he says, and Keith’s heart skips a beat.

Keith congratulates himself on sounding normal as he says, “You know my name?”

The mailman smiles again, almost looking a little bashful if Keith were being honest, and raises an arm to the back of his neck.

Keith’s eyes ping pong between the man’s face and his bicep as he says, “Well, yeah. I kind of deliver your mail. Which has your name on it.”

Keith feels his whole face go red and he coughs.

Great job, idiot, he thinks. Of course he knows your name. Of course it’s nothing special-

But the man halts his thoughts by saying, “It’s a nice name. And kind of similar to mine. My last name is Shirogane.”

Keith blinks. Rewarded with a name after all.

“Shirogane,” Keith says slowly, trying out the name. It has a nice sound, and he kind of wants to say it again, but holds his tongue for fear of embarrassing himself further.

Shirogane smiles though as he says it, and then he tells Keith, “But you can call me Shiro.”

It’s a bell through Keith’s heart, and he feels himself scrambling for the name, clutching it to his chest like a prize. It’s just a name, but to Keith it feels like everything.

“Okay,” he says. And then, “Shiro.”

He could swear the man blushes, but in the shadowy back of the truck, it’s difficult to see clearly so Keith firmly chalks it up to imagination, and then moves to haul himself into the truck.

“I can help,” he says. “I’d hate to make you carry all this furniture by yourself.”

Shiro laughs. “Don’t worry about me,” he says. “They send me on deliveries by myself for a reason.”

Keith can easily see why. He’s built like a brick house. But to Shiro he says, “I know you can handle it. But just because you /can/ doesn’t mean you should have to do it by yourself.”

Shiro does blush now. Keith can see it color over his high cheekbones, the bridge of his nose.

It’s too much for Keith’s crush-heavy heart. He squats down, grabs the box at Shiro’s feet, and hauls it out the hatch.

“K-Keith!” Shiro stutters. Keith can’t see him, but by the way the truck shudders, Keith can guess he jumped out after him.

His suspicion is confirmed when Shiro steps in front of him, seamlessly matching Keith’s pace and placing steadying hands on the front end of the box.

“What happened to not having to do things by ourselves?” Shiro says, but he says it with a smile and a kind voice, and none of the sarcasm he could have said it with, and something in Keith eases at the sound.

The face he makes must be funny, because Shiro smiles even wider and then says, “How about we do all of it together?”

Keith can’t help but say yes.

By the time they’ve laid the last box in the living room, they’re both panting a little, and Kosmo is dancing at Shiro’s feet, craving the pets he has yet to receive.

Shiro squats down and Keith moves for the kitchen, desperate to get back some of his self control. Shiro is /in his living room/ and Keith needs a moment.

“Sorry about the lack of couch,” he says. “/Someone/ tore out the stuffing.”

Shiro gives a mock gasp and then, in a bath voice, says “Someone did that? Who did that?”

Kosmo whines, but Keith can hear the thump of his tail against the floor that means he’s getting particularly good scritches.

A low litany of baby talk continues as Keith chugs a cup and then fills up a water bottle for Shiro.

“Did you tear up the couch? Did you do that? Were you a naughty boy?”

It makes Keith’s heart clench and he has to stifle his own sappy smile before reentering the living room and offering the bottle to Shiro.

“He’s a menace,” Keith says. “Don’t let those puppy eyes fool you.”

Shiro laughs and stands to take the water as Kosmo glares up at Keith from the floor.

Hypocrite, he seems to say. You’d do anything for Shiro’s puppy eyes.

He’s right, of course, and Keith looks away from him and into the aforementioned puppy eyes.

“I’ll try to keep my wits about me,” Shiro says before taking a sinful sip of water during which time he does not look away from Keith. Then he says, “Handsome boys with dark hair are a bit of a weakness for me, though.”

Keith chokes, face flaming, and because he’s particularly overwhelmed, raises a hand to hide his face as he tries to regain his composure.

Shiro doesn’t say anything. He just waits, patiently, until Keith is ready to face him again. That calm reaction makes Keith feel brave.

He meets Shiro’s gaze again and then snorts, unable to help himself. “I can’t believe you just flirted with me through my dog.”

Shiro’s face melts into a smile and he laughs too. “God, me neither,” he says. “It was corny.”

“It was,” Keith agrees. But…I liked it.”

Shiro takes a step forward, hands playing with the screw top of the water bottle. He’s nervous too, and that makes Keith relax instantly. He’s not alone.

“I like /you/,” Shiro says. “I know we don’t really know each other but…you’re the best part of my day. Do you think you might need help later for putting this furniture together?”

Keith nods, smiling. “Yeah, Shiro. You can help me anytime. Come over after your shift. I’ll make dinner.”

“Oh,” Shiro says. “I can bring-“

Keith cuts him off. “You don’t have to bring anything. The only help I need is you.”

When Shiro leaves, it’s with a smile. That smile that always felt like a gift to Keith. That smile that says, I’ll see you later.

- fin

Damn, ya know, I did not want to commit to writing their furniture date but imagine all the package sex jokes I could make

Anyway @threadreaderapp unroll