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Shiro was still breathless when Keith dropped down from Black, all but running to him and falling to his knees.
“Shiro! Are you okay? Your wound-- is it--?” Keith trailed off, staring down at his ripped side like he could move Shiro’s hand with his gaze if he just wanted to hard enough. Shiro let his hand fall away, revealing the deep, sickly purple gashes Haggar’s claws had gouged into him.
It was like no other wound he’d ever sustained, even in the arena, debilitating despite having stopped bleeding. It was probably a toxin; some kind of magical poison that burrowed into his flesh like icy needles, slowly locking his muscles. Running had been difficult when he’d first gotten on this planet. Now, he could barely move and it was only getting worse.
Keith had saved him, but he wasn’t sure there was much of a man left to save.
Keith took Shiro’s hand gently and tugged it further away so he could look at the damage. His brows pinched together in concern. It was a familiar look and it made Shiro unreasonably fond. Probably a lot fonder than he should be, considering he was dying.
He’d survived a year in the arena, being stabbed, gored, burnt with acid. He’d lost his arm. But even if he died now, another disastrous mission gone pear-shaped under his belt, at least he’d seen Keith again. He just wished he hadn’t dragged him here, too.
Keith reminded him, sometimes uncomfortably so, of who he’d been. Back when he could get a good night’s sleep. He hoped; knew, really, that he would far surpass him one day.
“It’s… It looks worse than it is,” Shiro sighed.
“Don’t try that with me,” Keith snapped. “We don’t have anything to clean it with.”
“Don’t touch it,” Shiro cautioned. “It’s magic. Druid magic. We don’t know if it’s contagious.” He covered the gashes again. “Nothing we can do can help it. At least I’ve gotten used to the pain.” Now it was just the cold, numb and spreading, filling his veins.
Keith’s mouth firmed, unhappy. “We need to get you help. Can you-- can you stand?”
Shiro quieted. “No. I don’t think so.”
Keith nodded to himself. “I’ll get you back in Black- it’ll be better than staying out here.’
Black. Black who’d let herself be taken, lured by a siren, wisteria-tinged song. Black who’d let Keith in, who’d roared at his hands even though she’d gone dark and quiet after the crash when Shiro tried.
Maybe this was how it was meant to be. How it always had been, if Allura had only seen through the front he’d kept up around the others, the ones who’d only known him on a worn-out reputation he wasn’t sure he’d ever deserved.
Slowly, Shiro shook his head. “I… I needed to get out, it was… stifling. The fresh air will do me good,” he smiled wanly.
Keith looked around, his mouth pinched with his opinion on ‘fresh air’ on a deserted rock planet. “Those things are gone, but it isn’t safe here.”
“Where were you before you went looking for me?”
“...A plateau,” Keith said slowly, recalling. “A large one. Red was pretty busted up so I had to walk. There was a canyon stretching out between us, maybe twenty miles straight down, a few kilometers wide. Didn’t seem like there was an end.”
“Any… any other signs of life?”
“No, none. I didn’t know there was anything that lived here. The heat scans around me came up empty.”
“They were starving. There might not be any others,” Shiro said shortly. “I guess anything will look tasty if you’re hungry enough,” he murmured, self-deprecating.
Keith frowned. “Well, they’re not getting you while I’m here. We can find shelter while we wait for Allura to find the Lions.”
“The only place that isn’t open out here is that hole I fell into.” Shiro nodded towards the tunnel, half-destroyed by the beasts that had hunted him.
“That works.”
It took Shiro a moment to realize what he was talking about.“What-- Keith!”
His friend paused, then lifted Shiro’s arm over his shoulder, grabbing his belt with his other hand. “If it hurts too much, tell me.”
Shiro’s side roared with pain, making him hunch over. “ Keith ,” he managed, right before he stumbled into him.
Keith braced himself. “This isn’t going to work,” he said.
Shiro nodded weakly. “Just, go get--”
And that was when Keith slowly lifted him up into his arms, careful to keep the weight on Shiro’s upper back instead of his injured side.
“ Keith?! ” Shiro sputtered, knees draped over Keith’s forearm.
“I’ve been working out,” Keith reassured. “I can manage this much.”
“That’s not the point, I--”
“ You,” Keith interrupted , “ can’t walk. And I’m going to get you somewhere safe.”
“I’m nearly twice your size. In armor .”
Keith very deliberately took a step forward, his arms steady. Shiro was vaguely glad that nobody else was around to see this. He felt laughter start to bubble in his chest as Keith pushed on, his arms starting to show his exhaustion in small tremors even if his face refused to.
By the time they got to the cave, now barricaded on one side, Keith’s arms threatened to give out. But he still put Shiro down slowly, with utmost care, his sharp inhale louder in the cave. It was dark, too, the azure glow from their armored suits the only light. It was a dim illumination, just enough to see Keith, pushing his hair back from a face covered in a light sheen of sweat. Keith’s was a body built for speed- but determination more than made up for the rest.
“I told you not to do it,” Shiro murmured, unable to resist.
“No, you tried to tell me not to do it,” Keith retorted.
Shiro’s laugh came out like a wheeze, tugging at the stitch in his side. “You’re amazing.”
“I wouldn’t have to do this if you you could take better care of yourself,” Keith replied, neatly sidestepping the compliment.
“Isn’t that what I have you for?” Shiro wondered, bold in his exhaustion.
It didn’t prepare him for the way Keith’s face softened, the fall of his lashes casting long shadows against his cheeks. “I.. I need you to be safe. If I can make that happen, of course I would.” His voice was rough, as it always was, raw with sincerity.
And too late, Shiro realized, they’re too close.
Keith’s presence was a hearth, filling the narrow space with warmth. The look in his eyes was an ember, sleeping in Shiro’s heart, burning through his lungs.
His flesh hand tightened against his hurt side, as if to quell the feeling with pain.
“Shiro? You’re shivering.”
He’d barely noticed. “I’m cold,” Shiro said, and it wasn’t untrue.
“You’re going into shock,” Keith said, the realization dawning. “We need a fire. My bayard can do it, but there’s no wood…” Keith hesitated, visibly weighing his options: to look for wood or to look after Shiro.
Shiro shook his head. “I don’t think this place has any vegetation, but if it does, finding some might take too long.” Not to mention the smoke would probably give their position away if the Lions crashing didn’t. Keith was good, but he wouldn’t be able to back him up in this state. He’d be a burden that could get him killed.
“Is there… anything I can do?” Keith asked quietly. His hands were on Shiro’s knees, hovering.
And Shiro was weak. He’d never felt weaker. “Hold me?” He smiled reflexively, trying to pass it off as a joke.
Keith shifted forward. “I can do that.”
Keith’s fingers reached for his cuirass, unbuckling it with a snap. The pauldrons and armguards went next, piled neatly on the stone floor with gloves and gauntlets. It wasn’t until Keith was pulling his flightsuit open that he started to figure out that it wasn’t a fever dream. That Keith really was stripping, right in front of him, pale skin taking on an alien blue cast.
“Keith?” He blinked blearily, unsure and unable to take his eyes off his silhouette, the hollow dip of the v of his hips.
Keith pushed his suit further down, running a hand through the tousled mess of his hair once to get it off his neck. “I… I’ll need to get you out of your suit, too.”
Shiro stared.
“It won’t be much use if I can’t get skin contact.”
The concept sunk foggily into Shiro’s mind. “Body heat?”
“Yeah… isn’t that what you meant?” Keith asked, confused.
“O-of course,” Shiro said quickly. He reached for the latches on his own armor, anything to distract Keith from thinking further on his slip.
It was difficult to do it while lying back on uneven stone. Harder, with thick, tired fingers. But then, Keith was there, pushing his hands away so he could do it for him, nimbly undoing the harness that kept the cuirass on and prying the two halves apart. He reached for the near-invisible zip at the nape of Shiro’s neck, lifting him up enough with one arm to pull it down and fold the suit back to his waist. His fingertips were warm against Shiro’s clammy skin.
“You’re sweating pretty badly,” Keith observed, brows knitted. He cupped the side of Shiro’s neck, then crawled onto his lap, pressed close with his arms around Shiro’s shoulders and his temples pressed to Shiro’s.
“It’s cold,” Keith murmured, hold tight. His breath was hot, puffing against Shiro’s ear and his body seared against his, skin to skin. He was so warm- like a forgotten sun. Like desert sand.
Shiro closed his eyes and imagined earth for the first time in a long time. Sun against his skin, bright and fiery against the back of his eyelids. The dry desert air and the blood-red sunsets. And then he opened his eyes and he was looking at Keith.
Keith, carefully balanced, doing his best to warm him, sharp bones and smooth muscle. Gorgeous and talented and better than him in every way. Shiro ached to touch him, his Galran arm drifting down Keith’s side a moment before he carefully pulled his remaining arm free from between them, folding both around Keith. Keith settled, melting into Shiro as though to occupy every single bit of surface he provided. His waist was so slim, but his shoulders were broad, strength in the straight line of his back.
Keith casually tucked his face into Shiro’s neck and just-- held him.
For long minutes, he focused on nothing but the beat of Keith’s heart against his chest, the arid scent of this planet’s atmosphere, and the closer, salt-earth smell of Keith. He’d dreamed it like this, once, Keith sleepy and sated against him, skin littered with lovebites. It’s not the same, but it’s more precious still.
Keith touched others rarely and was awkward even at the best of times. Being here with Shiro like this was trust made explicit, He’d come so far from the Garrison, from being the taciturn drifter Shiro had found just when he’d started to lose faith. He’d never doubted he was the better pilot. And he hoped, a better man than he could ever be.
“Is it working?” Keith asked, sounding almost sleepy, a breathy whisper.
Shiro breathed. The pain was nothing but a dull throb. And he forgot that he was a dead man walking, that Black had gone dark and his blood creeped with ice.
“Yeah,” he murmured into the furnace of Keith’s skin.
Keith had saved him.
He’d been saving him since the day they met.