Chapter Text
Keith didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but it wasn’t as though a “problem solved” light had been switched. Shiro’s acceptance of the truth - of him - certainly made being around him less painful, but Keith was still at ground zero with him. He’d overcome one obstacle. He’d opened the door. Now he had to walk through it. Shiro was extremely open now, but instead of encouraging Keith to open up about the past, it only intimidated him somehow. So much had happened between them; how could Keith relay their relationship with only words? What exactly was Shiro expecting to hear?
Progress with this issue was slow-going. Once Shiro and Keith made up, they essentially reverted to how they’d been acting before their spat. They were often busy doing different things. The little time they did get together was during meals with the others or during the occasional conference to receive and give progress reports. With the new power sources they’d acquired, it would take only one week to reach Haggar’s hideout instead of two, and tensions were once again running high as they had been before the mission launch. Like then, Keith didn’t have much time to worry about Shiro, but his heart was definitely less heavy than it had been, if not still troubled.
The rest of the team was curious. They’d made themselves scarce during Shiro and Keith’s quarrel, and the next time they’d seen Keith, they’d been very… careful. Skeptical. Walking on eggshells, as if his new lighter aura was a façade that could be shattered with one wrong move. They’d been acting that way for the past couple of days, and with the rest of the rebel coalition joining them tomorrow, Keith decided that it was time to quell their fears so that they could focus more effectively in his presence when things got serious… er.
Keith instructed (okay, begged) Shiro to eat second meal in his office so that he could talk to the others without being completely humiliated; he had a feeling that if Shiro were involved in explaining their make-up to them, he’d go into too much detail and Keith wouldn’t be able to look them in the eye for days. It felt a lot like sitting down the kids during family dinner to say, “Don’t worry, mommy and daddy aren’t fighting anymore, we promise.” Keith groaned as he made his way to their usual table with his meal, where they all were already gathered. Their animated speech quietened as he approached, as was usual these days. He took his seat without a word and began meticulously preparing his meal.
As Keith ripped open an MRE with his teeth, their chatter slowly picked back up, albeit more hushed than before. He went through the motions of heating the meal with the heating pouch without reading which foods had been assembled for the meal, too distracted by the others’ frequent concerned glances in his direction and by floundering for a way to start this conversation. If he knew his friends, they’d tease him the moment they knew it was safe to. They’d haggle him for details. Maybe he should just be blunt.
Keith vigorously began to shake the heating pack with his food.
Spit it out.
He kept shaking it.
Get it over with.
He shook it some more.
Rip off the band-aid.
Perhaps with a little too much enthusiasm.
Let the other shoe drop.
Keith distantly registered his hands feeling warm.
“Uh, Keith?” Lance asked uncertainly.
Keith irritably dropped the packet, and it slapped onto the table from the force of his taught arms. “What?” He snapped.
“Don’t you think the poor food is warm enough?”
Pidge adjusted her glasses. “You aren’t really supposed to shake it,” she added, “the chemical reaction will take place regardless.”
Keith folded his arms and donned what he hoped was a haughty and not defensive expression. “Well, I was helping it along, then. It’s warm, isn’t it?”
“I think most of the heat was absorbed from your arms. There’s some smoke coming off your shoulders.” Hunk joked, curious as to what had Keith so wired. “Something you wanna get off your chest?”
Keith resigned himself to the teasing and prying that he knew he was in for with a small sigh. Allura patiently perched her chin on her palms, a signal that she was listening, and the others followed suit.
“Shiro and I made up.” Keith blurted. “We’re not fighting anymore. He believes me. So you guys can stop acting weird around me.”
Allura gasped. “He believes you? That’s wonderful! So he’s remembered?”
Keith chewed the inside of his cheek anxiously. “Not exactly. I mean, he gets small pieces of memories. Sometimes he dreams them, but sometimes they’re triggered by something I say or do. It’s enough for him to know that it was real.”
“Woah,” said Lance, swiping away non-existent tears theatrically, “this is the most beautiful tragic love story I’ve ever seen.”
Keith growled, feeling heat rising in his cheeks. “It’s not a love story.”
“It’s not?” Hunk asked, and he seemed genuinely surprised rather than teasing.
“No!” Keith exclaimed, his hands flailing for emphasis. This is exactly why he’d been dreading this conversation. At least Shiro wasn’t here to witness this. “He doesn’t remember anything! If anything happened between us while he’s like this, it would be fucked up!”
Pidge quirked an eyebrow. “Why?”
“Because!” Keith hissed, as if that explained that to Keith, it would feel like taking advantage of Shiro.
“Because why?”
Keith opened his mouth with an explanation in mind, then snapped it back closed when he realized that he was, indeed, being haggled for details about his feelings that he did not want to give. Instead, he jutted out his chin and looked away from her. “You’re still a kid. You’ll get it someday.”
Keith didn’t have to be looking at Pidge to know how affronted she was. Lance cut off her squabbling protests. “Dude, I’m almost twenty, and I don’t get it.”
Of course YOU don’t, Keith wanted to say, but bit back the salty reply. He didn’t want to turn all his friends against him. He picked up his MRE and began opening the separate food packets, hoping that it signaled that this conversation was over.
“You don’t have to.” He said with an air of finality.
The others were quiet, and Keith thought that meant that they’d dropped the topic, but as he brought a sporkful of bland mashed potatoes to his lips, he caught sight of their sympathetic stares.
“Oh, c’mon.” Keith dropped his spork to the table and threw up his hands. “I’m fine with just this, guys. Hell, I’m happy with just this! I’m counting my blessings, here. There’s no reason to push this any further, so just drop it, okay?”
Reluctantly, they did, and Keith was relieved when their amble chatter eventually picked back up. All things considered, that had actually been less painful than he’d expected it to be.
———————————————
Keith was aware that the time that the coalition was expected to merge paths with Atlas coincided with Team Voltron’s practice time, but they didn’t have practice time to lose. Therefore, Krolia was already waiting for him when he returned Black to the Lions’ Den after practice, leaning against the hangar wall with her arms folded and wearing a soft, proud smile.
“Mom!” He called, uncaring of his onlooking friends as he jogged to meet her. Spending two years with only each other for company had forged a strong bond between them, and being apart for nearly a year had been so lonely, especially once Shiro had been taken again. She pushed off the wall and opened her arms for him, and he threw his own around her back, pressing his cheek against her shoulder. Her hold and presence were firm and reassuring, something he’d been needing for a while now.
“Mom, I missed you. So much has happened.”
Her hand lifted briefly from his back to pet his hair. “I know. I’ve missed you too, my son. I wish we had time to catch up, but there is much work to be done. Iverson has asked you and your team to come to the conference room.”
Keith allowed himself a tired sigh in the comfort of his mother’s arms, then steeled himself and pulled away from her warmth, trying to look confident. He wasn’t able to fool her.
“I know, Keith.” She said, her eyes gentle and understanding. “You’ve done so well. This will soon come to an end.”
Yes, but what kind of end?
With one last squeeze to his shoulder, she turned and headed for the conference room, Keith falling into step behind her.
————————————————
Keith’s head was buzzing and too full of thoughts after the conference. It had been crowded; some of the coalition leaders had had to stand. And as used to aliens as Keith was by now (hell, he was half alien himself), seeing twenty-something bizarrely different humanoids in one room was still disconcerting for him. Shiro had sat next to him in a way that he’d missed, for reassurance rather than mistrust. Shiro’s positive presence was probably more distracting than that of all the aliens. On top of these things, the other leaders in the room reported and discussed several heavy topics that all had to do with defeating the Galra, and each and every one of them looked to Keith for his input on the matter. As the Black Paladin of Voltron, they saw him as their leader. In the eyes of the universe at large, he would be the one held responsible for the carrying out of and for the outcome of this siege. Keith had never felt more like a helpless child in his life. Of course, this had been something that he’d already known… subjectivity. Seeing such tangible evidence of the expectations placed upon him, though, was daunting.
Hours later, once their invasion strategy had been well established and the meeting adjourned, Keith found a quiet corner of the ship to spend time with his mother and powered off his personal communication device. If there was an emergency, they could reach him over the ship’s comms.
——————————————
Krolia minded her own business ninety-nine point nine percent of the time. She was anything but a nosy person. Her main objective was to complete whatever her current mission was in order to help take down the Galra Empire. Anything outside of that mission was deemed unimportant and was ignored. The point one percent of the time when she interfered to an extent that was more than what benefited the Blade was when her son was involved.
With sad eyes, slumped shoulders, and an overall defeated demeanor that he would never allow most to witness, Keith told her all about what had happened to the man he loved, the most recent development of the story having happened only a few days prior. And what an inconvenient time for such an issue to come to a head, right as they were preparing to deal a fatal blow to the Galra Empire. She understood the hopelessness that Keith must have been feeling - as if there were no end in sight.
“This isn’t what I wanted for you, Keith.” She told him solemnly, studying his eyes that were so like Heath’s. “I left you on Earth hoping that I could protect you from such hardships. It seems your life has been nothing but.”
The corner of Keith’s mouth twitched. He shrugged. “That isn’t true. I mean, I used to think that, too. When Dad died, when I had to live in the orphanage, when Shiro disappeared the first time… for the longest time all I could do was wonder ‘why me?’ you know? But… despite all that, I met Shiro, and he’s been this constant light in my life from the very start. He led me to meet my best friends, to do amazing things, to find you. It took me a while to realize that even though he doesn’t remember me, that light hasn’t gone out. He’s the same. I’m… still sad that the memories are gone. It still hurts. But I’m grateful that he’s still by my side.”
Krolia watched her son gaze through the window at the stars with a resilient gleam in his eye. Her chest clenched, and she wanted to reach out and hold him, so she did.
“When did you become so wise?” She asked, though she suspected she already knew the answer. Falling in love was a harrowing and enlightening journey.
“I’m grateful for you, too, Mom.”
She held him more tightly, hyper aware that these last few days may well be her last chance to ever do so. And these last few days also may well be Keith’s last few spent alongside the man his heart belongs to.
Point one percent of the time. Krolia will be damned if she allows her son or his love to die wallowing in regret.
———————————————
Shiro has always been intimidated by Krolia. She knew by the startled expression on his face when they’d first met, and the time after that, and the next one. It was quite endearing. The Shiro that she saw first-hand was nothing like the way that she’d seen Keith perceive him in his memories. This Shiro was determined to impress her, to earn her blessing and be deemed worthy of being with her son. He’d practically said as much once several pheebs ago. It had been the last time Krolia visited Earth, before Shiro’s memories had been stolen. She supposed he didn’t remember that.
The boy immediately stood from his office chair to greet her, that badly concealed nervous energy that he always radiated in her presence showing on his face.
“Krolia, it’s nice to see you again, um… in my office…. You can sit, if you want. Make yourself comfortable.”
Withholding an amused smirk, she accepted the offer and sat in the cushioned chair across from Shiro’s desk. It was made for a human’s size, so her neck had no support and the arm rests were completely useless. She crossed her legs and placed her hands atop her knees, maintaining her regal air as best she could in what, to her, was a chair for a child. Shiro seemed to notice the awkward seating and rubbed the back of his neck, looking remorseful.
“I’m sorry, I can see if -“
“This will do fine. Thank you.”
Still uncertain, Shiro stiffly sat in his own chair and tapped his fingers nervously against his thigh, waiting for her to speak. Krolia let him simmer for a few moments, her blank expression unwavering. He cleared his throat.
“So, er… how are things with the Blade?”
Shiro already knew how things were with the Blade. He’d been at the conference; he’d heard the reports. He seemed to be following her thought process because a faint blush rose to his cheeks.
“The Blade is doing well, all things considered. And how is your team?”
Shiro exhaled heavily, like he’d been holding his breath. “Good. They’re good. You know, so to speak.”
“All of them?”
Shiro paused, his brows cinched in thought. His jaw hung open for a moment before he found the words he was looking for. “Keith is - well, he was - having a rough time, but he’s alright now, I think. Or close to it.”
“A rough time?” Krolia echoed, as though she had no idea what he referred to. Shiro was a smart boy, though. He knew that she did.
“I never meant to hurt him, Krolia.” He said quietly.
“I know. I don’t blame you. But the fact remains that he is hurt.”
Shiro looked as if the words pained him. Krolia imagined that he felt some sort of shame, even though he wasn’t responsible for what had happened to himself.
“Believing Keith is not enough. He needs you to be there for him.”
Shiro’s fists clenched on his lap. “I’m trying. Even when we’re not arguing, or not too busy, or not trying not to die, he still pushes me away.”
Krolia had expected as much. She knew that that was standard Keith behavior when he was feeling vulnerable. Shiro had once known how to handle that better than anyone. Krolia leaned forward to emphasize the advice she was about to give. “I know that you don’t know my son, but you did once, so I hope he’ll excuse me for telling you something that was in your stolen memories, something that he could never tell you himself: Keith will never tell you what he wants. He despises being vulnerable, especially emotionally. When it comes to him, you have to let your heart guide you. He will not open up to you easily. You have to be persistent. You have to be blunt. You have to reassure him. He will never admit it, but that’s what he wants.”
Shiro was blushing madly, but he nodded attentively. Blushing was such an odd human trait. Krolia was capable of feeling embarrassment as well, but she couldn’t imagine the horror of it being so obviously on display. She remembered asking Heath why his usually tan cheeks would sometimes grow pink. When she’d asked that, his whole face had been ungulfed in red. It had been extremely endearing. She wondered how Keith would feel if he could see Shiro’s determined face set aglow at the thought of him, and it had her stifling a soft smile.
“The last time I saw you, you asked me for my blessing.” Krolia told him. It seemed like something he deserved to know.
Shiro blanched, shock written all over his face. “I - what?”
“Don’t worry, I never told Keith. I was… reluctant to give you my blessing then. I had just gotten my son back, and I feared that I would lose him again, to you. It was selfish of me. I give you my blessing.”
Jaw still open, Shiro’s face contorted into many conflicting expressions before settling on a faint, awed smile, eyes bright. Her work done, Krolia uncrossed her legs and stood to leave, but paused in the doorway when Shiro called after her.
“W-wait! Um… thanks. Thank you. I’ll do what you said.”
With a simultaneously sad and hopeful feeling in her heart, she locked eyes with him over her shoulder. “Time is precious. Do not take it for granted, as I did.”
She did not have to explain what she meant.
———————————————
Shiro waited until the ship was quiet for sleeping hours before he sought Keith out. He’d gotten his mother’s blessing, something he’d apparently been waiting on for some time now. With the reminder that the next two days may be their last together, he did not intend to waste it.
Keith’s room had been one of the first to be assigned, so the number was easy to remember. It took him almost no time to reach room number three. Before he could knock, though, he heard Keith’s voice carrying through the door, too faint for him to make out the words. Shiro hesitated. If Keith was having a conversation with someone, he’d rather not interrupt. He’d expected Keith to be alone. He didn’t want anyone else knowing that he’d gone to see Keith while the ship slept. He wasn’t ashamed, but this was a moment that he’d prefer to be kept private; he didn’t want the memory of it tainted by whispers of the Captain sneaking into the Voltron Leader’s quarters at night. But Krolia’s words echoed stubbornly in his head - time is precious. Do not take it for granted. He’d rather give this conversation priority and deal with any rumors later than risk the chance of either of them dying without having gotten the chance to make peace with one another.
Shiro rapped his knuckles distinctly against the door three times before he could talk himself out of it, and Keith’s voice trailed off. A few seconds later, the door slid open, revealing a surprised Keith and an empty room behind him save for Kosmo blinking curiously from the foot of his bed.
“Shiro? Is something wrong?”
“Er… no,” Shiro said, his eyes darting about the tiny room once more, as if someone could be hiding in it. “Who were you talking to?”
Keith looked at the floor. “Oh. You heard that?”
“Not really.” Shiro said, not liking the solemn and quiet tone that Keith had abruptly switched to. “I mean, I heard your voice. Not what you were saying.”
Keith reached up to twist the long hair at the nape of his neck around his index finger in what Shiro recognized as a nervous habit, his eyes falling somewhere near Shiro’s shoulders instead of his face. Shiro had to resist the strong urge to make a soothing gesture, maybe the caress of a hand on Keith’s cheek, or smoothing his bangs back from his face.
“You want to come in?” Keith offered finally, stepping aside to make room. Shiro gave a gentle smile in return and took the two steps it required for him to cross the room. He heard the door slide closed behind him.
Keith’s room spoke to his personality, Shiro would give it that. It was nondescript and simple at first glance, but at second, it was anything but. Shiro supposed that the numerous small quirks - a pillow from Black instead of the standard-issue ones and the handle of his Galra blade peeking out from under it, an old-as-Methuselah iPod with wire headphones sprawled across his desk like they’d recently been used, a small arrangement of wallet-sized photos in the corner of his bulletin board - would surmount to nothing much in anyone else’s eyes, but he drank it all in with immense fondness. He reached out to swipe his thumb curiously across one of the photos. It was a picture of himself from years ago, his grin huge and genuine, every strand of hair on his head black, with his arm thrown over a younger Keith’s shoulders. Keith had clearly not been keen on taking a photo. His arms were crossed and he was staring blankly at some point beyond the camera.
“Why didn’t you show me this before?” He found himself asking, hoping he didn’t sound accusatory.
Keith sighed from behind him, then he reached around Shiro to pluck the photo from the board and hand it to Shiro to study more closely. “I wanted you to believe me of your own accord. I didn’t want to confuse you and try to force your memories back.”
Shiro held the tiny, battered picture closer to his face, picking out every detail. He’d seen plenty of pictures of himself before Kerberos with dark hair, both arms, no scar across his nose, and innocent eyes, but none of Keith. Keith, smaller and with more round and unmarred cheeks, his hair a couple of inches shorter, and wearing a Garrison cadet uniform.
“Wow,” Shiro said, still squinting down at the photo, “you look totally different.”
Keith scoffed. “You kidding? Compared to you, I look exactly the same.”
But that wasn’t true. Like Shiro, Keith now looked years older, all the way from his growth to the tired look ever-present in his eyes. Feeling more confident than he had a few minutes ago, Shiro carefully put the photo back and turned to face Keith, who was still looking far less confident. Without any prompting (Shiro suspected that Keith had chosen the most convenient topic of conversation to assuage his anxiety), Keith folded his arms tightly and spoke.
“I was talking to my dad.”
“Your… dad?” Shiro echoed, looking dumbly at the ceiling, as if there were a sky above them, but Keith mimicked him.
“I don’t know about God or spirits or whatever,” he said quietly, “but I know that there’s a place people go when they die. I don’t know if Dad can hear me, but I pretend he can. I know it’s stupid.”
Keith dropped dejectedly onto his bed, his legs dangling off the edge, looking guarded and vulnerable.
“Did I know that before I forgot?”
Keith’s shoulders tensed. He blinked up at Shiro as though he’d expected to hear something completely different. “Uh, no. I never told you.”
The answer made Shiro smile. The thought that he was making new memories with Keith, learning something outside of lost memories, was a thought good enough to have some of his own anxieties put to rest. What Keith wants… what he really wants….
Shiro began kicking off his shoes, and Keith sat up, watching curiously. Once his second boot clunked to the floor, he nudged Keith’s shoulder. “Scoot over.”
A deep line formed between Keith’s brows but he didn’t argue. He pulled his legs up onto the bed and scooted back against the wall, leaving just enough room for Shiro to clamber onto the tiny bed and starfish his body, staring up at the ceiling.
“Shiro…?”
In lieu of a verbal response, Shiro patted the empty space between his side and the wall. Hesitantly, Keith abandoned his safe spot next to Kosmo and picked his way up the bed, placing himself gingerly at Shiro’s side. Only an inch of space remained between them despite Keith’s obvious efforts not to invade his personal space, and it seemed that Keith refused to recline fully into the pillow. Glancing over at Keith’s stiff form and pink cheeks, Shiro chuckled.
“Relax, Keith. I want to talk to your Dad, too. Is that okay?”
After a moment wherein Keith just stared at him uncertainty, searching his face for something, he became slowly less tense. When he finally looked at the ceiling, too, he allowed his side to slot comfortably and warmly against Shiro’s and let his shoulders sink into the bed in the empty space of Shiro’s bionic arm. Shiro felt the pillow dip next to his head, some of Keith’s long hairs tickling his cheek. All it had taken was for Shiro to be straightforward with him to get him to open up.
As Keith extended his legs, Kosmo decided to lend the two some privacy. He stood and stretched, gave a great yawn, and vanished in a flash of blue light.
“Hope I didn’t run him off.” Shiro muttered.
“Don’t worry. He hangs out with the other paladins sometimes. He might have even gone to visit Mom.”
Shiro sincerely hoped that Kosmo and Krolia didn’t share some sort of empathic bond. He didn’t want Kosmo telling her that that man with the white hair invaded Keith’s room at this hour. He shuddered at the thought of her interrogation.
Keith elbowed him. “You wanted to talk to Dad?”
Oh. Right.
“Mr. Kogane,” Shiro began, and Keith let out a sputtering laugh, one that Shiro could feel against him. Even though it had been unintentional, Shiro couldn’t help but snigger, too.
“What?”
“Don’t call him that, it’s weird.” Keith admonished. “Call him Heath.”
“I can’t call your dad by his first name!” Shiro protested, scandalized, which only made Keith laugh more, which in turn made Shiro laugh more. Keith’s laughter was contagious.
“W-Why not?” Keith asked between giggles.
“Because!” Shiro said, and Keith turned his head to raise an eyebrow at him, an amused grin splitting his face. “It’s not proper,” Shiro continued, “that’s not how you make a good impression.”
“You want to make a good impression on my dad? My dead dad?”
Shiro shrugged. “A dead dad is still a dad. Besides, he can still hear us, right?”
The teasing grin on Keith’s face morphed into something softer. His face, inches from Shiro’s, held an expression that couldn’t be described as anything other than adoration, and it had Shiro’s own cheeks feeling warm. Shiro cleared his throat awkwardly and looked back at the ceiling.
“Fine. Heath, sir, my name is Takashi, but most people call me Shiro. It’s nice to meet you. Er, so to speak.”
Keith shifted a bit. “Shiro has done a lot for me, Dad.” He whispered. “Without him, I… I don’t know. He’s important to me.”
A tingling warmth pooled in Shiro’s chest and manifested in what had to be the dorkiest smile. He couldn’t believe that this was the same man whom he’d been so distrustful of and resentful towards only months ago, like this Keith could ever hurt Shiro or any of their teammates. He couldn’t believe he’d been so nervous around this man, worried that he’d judge or reject him for his feelings. Here that same man was, fighting his own defense instincts to bare his heart to Shiro, and he deserved to have the trust reciprocated.
“There are some things about Keith that you should know.” Shiro said to Heath. “In case you didn’t get to see them when you were alive.”
Keith scoffed. “Like what?”
Shiro whistled in preparation for a long list of things to tell. “Well, let’s see… first of all, he’s quick-tempered and rash.”
“Shiro -”
“And it only gets worse when he’s drunk. Found that out the hard way.”
“Shiro!” Keith whined.
Shiro used his metal arm to gently pinch the skin at Keith’s waist, earning him a sharp gasp and a sputter of indignation.
“Let me finish.”
With a glare that lacked any heat, Keith settled down and waited.
“He has a hard time dealing with emotions. He has trust issues on top of that, but he’s trusted me, so I’m going to trust him, too.”
Shiro felt Keith look silently up at him, but he kept his own eyes trained on the ceiling and took a moment to swallow his pride.
“Keith is secretly a nerd who loves sci-fi. He’ll talk your ear off about Lord of the Rings if you give him the chance. When he and Pidge get together, they’re a force to be reckoned with.”
Keith giggled. “You’re one to talk, Mr. science nerd. You know every type of rock and cloud and star there is.”
Shiro nodded. “You’re right, but stars are just stars. You, though… Heath, I could listen to your son talk all day, about anything, and I’d never get bored. Never.”
Apparently, he’d finally stunned Keith into silence. Just until he’d said what he needed to say.
“Keith plays with his hair when he thinks no one is watching, and he hums when he thinks no one is around to hear, and he does nice things even if he thinks no one will know about them. He’s the best pilot I’ve ever seen, braver than any other, loyal to a fault, and would never give up on his friends.”
“Shiro…” Keith breathed, and the soft hand that met his shoulder was scalding. Shiro plowed on.
“Your son is courageous, strong, and smart. He’s kind, passionate, and selfless. He’s self-sacrificing, always puts everyone else before himself. He’s so good.”
“Sounds like someone else I know.” Keith said quietly.
Shiro gulped. “But there’s more. Where Keith is involved in my life, it feels like there’s nothing… bad. Nothing greedy or impatient or scary. Sometimes there’s nervousness. Sometimes there’s frustration. Sometimes there’s sadness. But when I spend time with him, that all somehow changes into something else, and it’s something I spent a long time taking for granted… but I won’t anymore. I can’t anymore. We might be running out of time, and I’d never forgive myself if he didn’t know that I’m in love with him, too.”
Keith gasped, his body suddenly rigid against him. Shiro finally broke his gaze from the ceiling and directed it at Keith, hoping it was conveying his feelings with intensity. Keith’s amethyst eyes were wide and sparkling, completely stunning, and they stole every word from Shiro’s mouth save for a few. “I love you, Keith.”
Keith was painfully silent for a long moment, surprise evident on his face, but his breath gave everything away. It had taken on the labored, chopped pattern that precedes crying. Shiro, for once, didn’t feel nervous, but relieved and prepared to accept however Keith reacted. They’d unknowingly been turning to face one another, only halfway on their backs now. Ultimately, the tension snapped when Keith could no longer hold their stare and buried his face into Shiro’s neck, where he felt hot tears almost immediately. He crushed one arm between their chests and pushed the other between Shiro’s flesh arm and his ribs, clutching a fistful of Shiro’s t-shirt on his back to tug him closer. Shiro helped by winding his own arms around Keith and holding him tightly.
“I really hope these are happy tears.”
Keith’s laughter against his neck was the warmest thing he’d ever felt. Shiro nuzzled his cheek into the hair at Keith’s temple and hooked a leg around his.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“You’re such a fucking dork. I love you. God, I love you.”
To punctuate this, Keith pulled his arm from Shiro’s back and between their bodies, then planted that scalding hand on the back of Shiro’s neck, his thumb stroking the soft skin on the edge of Shiro’s jaw and under his ear. By the time Shiro’s brain caught up, Keith was looking up at him again with entire star systems in those dark eyes, and he felt the gentle brush of lips against his own. Shiro’s own hand moved almost of its own accord to cup Keith’s jaw and cheek, his thumb caressing the corner of those supple lips that he could just drown in. After a devastating eyeful of that perfect image, Shiro joined in on what Keith had initiated and closed the millimeters between their lips, his eyes falling closed. They kept the kiss slow and innocent but filled with passion, fueled by all these months - years - of yearning.
When Keith broke the kiss, panting, Shiro mourned and peppered light kisses on his cheeks, his forehead, his eyelids. Just cherished him, tried to repay Keith for all his silent suffering on his part.
“Stay here tonight.” Keith breathed. “I don’t want to… you know. I just want to be close to you.”
“Of course,” Shiro said, nodding before Keith had even finished. He wouldn’t worry about the rumors that would arise when he stepped out of Keith’s room before first meal. He could never deny Keith. And whether it was his own new feelings or Haggar’s meddling or his own forgotten memories that made him feel that way didn’t matter one bit. Not one bit.
Later, once they’d indulged in one another until their lips were bruised and Keith had dozed off on Shiro’s shoulder, Shiro had to retract his earlier thought, because now he wore the dorkiest smile ever. When he leaned away from Keith for a moment to tug the comforter out from under their legs, Keith stirred and clung to him sleepily, mumbling something incoherent. Shiro chuckled and pulled the blanket around their shoulders, and Keith began snoring lightly once again within a few seconds. Tuckered out himself, Shiro pressed his lips softly to the hair over Keith’s forehead, then neglected to move away and fell into sleep like that.