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Keith could not count the number of times he'd told Shiro to relax. To take a break. To set down responsibility he carried constantly for just one damn night.
In fact, the most recent time they'd had this conversation had been approximately three hours before, when they were all heading out to a banquet that the inhabitants of this planet were throwing in honor of the Voltron paladins for freeing them from Galra occupation.
Keith was starting to regret that conversation.
Because for once in his life, Shiro had actually listened to him.
Which meant that he was lying on his back on the floor of the castle, giggling, and waving his arms and legs around while Keith tried desperately to get him back to quarters. This was somewhat difficult, considering that Shiro was half a head taller than him and a good fifty pounds heavier, and was utterly disinclined to help in any way, shape, or form.
This maybe wouldn't have been so bad if his fellow paladins were actually useful, but Hunk, Lance, and Pidge showed no sign of giving him a hand and every sign of collapsing into hysterical laughter at any moment.
Keith was going to figure out what their hosts had given them to drink and never let Shiro drink it ever again.
"I have lion hands," Shiro said with a dopey grin, and pinched at Keith's ankle. "Lion hands go nom nom."
Across the hall, Lance made a squeak that sounded like he was about to fail at keeping a straight face.
Keith rolled his eyes and grabbed for Shiro's arm. "Yes, you do. Now let's—"
Shiro flung his legs into the air and wiggled his feet around. "And lion feet!"
Pidge snorted into her arm, her eyes glistening with glee. "Yeah, blue and yellow lion feet. They're beautiful."
Keith glared at Pidge for encouraging this, and pushed Shiro's flailing limbs away so he wouldn't actually get kicked. "Can your lion feet walk to your bed?"
"Rar go my toes!" Shiro said, and collapsed into helpless giggles.
That was apparently the last straw for Lance, because he howled with laughter and when Keith looked over again, he was on the floor, leaning against the wall for support, tears streaming from his eyes.
"Rar rar rar rar," Shiro continued, kicking his legs in time with the words.
Keith dragged a hand over his face. "Hunk, get over here and help me get him up."
"I don't know," Hunk said. "I mean, he seems really happy where he is? Maybe we can just let him sleep it off there."
"Hunk can't be my arm," Shiro said. "Hunk is my leg."
Lance let out another peal of laughter, and Pidge joined him on the floor, cackling.
Keith was going to kill them both. "Yeah, Hunk's going to be your legs, I'm going to be your arms," he said, kneeling beside Shiro and grabbing his arm.
"No!" Shiro yanked away and raised his right arm. "You go on this side. You're my right arm, Keith."
Keith bit back a groan and switched sides, pulling Shiro's arm over his shoulders to help get him off the damn ground.
The only problem was that this put his face right next to Shiro's, which was currently more relaxed than Keith had seen it since before the Kerberos mission. The lines at the corners of his eyes had faded, and his goofy smile made him look years younger.
Shiro blinked at him. "Wow, you're pretty."
Keith felt the back of his neck heat. "Uh, thanks?"
"No, you're really pretty," Shiro said earnestly, like it was important Keith agree with this. "Your eyes are gray and purple at the same time and you're the prettiest star I've ever seen."
He clumsily patted Keith's cheek with his free hand, murmuring "pretty" over and over, while Keith felt his face and neck getting hotter and hotter and his stupid heart jumped with hope. He had absolutely no idea what to do with this, what to do with Shiro drunkenly rambling things he didn't really mean. Couldn't really mean.
Behind him, Pidge was hiccupping between laughs, but it sounded like Lance had finally quieted down some. Maybe Keith could get his help, too.
"How come no one ever gets drunk and tells me I'm pretty?" Lance whined.
Or not.
Hunk patted his shoulder. "I'll get drunk and tell you you're pretty, buddy."
"Yeah?" Lance sounded hopeful.
"Of course!"
Keith gritted his teeth. "Hunk! Help. Now!"
Hunk finally came over and got on Shiro's other side, and between the two of them they managed to get Shiro off the ground and somewhat upright.
"I'm the head," Shiro said very seriously. "I'm the lion head."
"The head and the body, don't forget," Hunk said.
"Don't encourage him," Keith muttered.
"Hey, Shiro, how are your lion toes?" Lance called out.
"Rar!" Shiro yelled.
Hunk snorted, and Keith shot him a scowl that he hoped conveyed if you drop him, I will stab you with both of my swords and find another yellow paladin.
They staggered down the hall, Shiro swaying between them and singing about lion arms and lion legs, the sound of Pidge and Lance shouting "Rar go my toes!" and their subsequent peals of laughter echoing down the corridor.
***
Shiro woke up the next morning with a pounding headache and the memories of everything he'd said and done the previous night playing across his mind vividly.
He groaned and pulled his pillow over his head. He was never drinking anything other than water ever again. He'd have to find everyone and apologize, especially—
"Good, you're awake."
Shiro yanked the pillow off his face. Keith sat in the chair next to his bed, hair rumpled like he'd slept there.
"Did you sleep there?" Shiro asked.
Keith crossed his arms and scowled at the corner. "Someone had to make sure you were okay."
"I—" Shiro sat up and winced at the way his head throbbed. Time to get started on those apologies, then. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have had so much to drink."
Keith shook his head. "It's fine. Really. I'm glad you got the chance to relax for a little bit." The edge of his mouth tipped up in a small smile. "Even though I really wish you were a little less heavy."
Shiro rubbed his temples. "Keith...about what I said..."
The small smile vanished, and Keith went back to staring at the corner. "It's okay. I know you didn't mean it."
It was an out, but Shiro had no intention of taking it. He gripped the edge of the bed to give him courage. "Yes, I did."
Keith whipped his head around, eyes wide. "What?"
Shiro cleared his throat and continued. "I meant it. Every word." He rubbed the back of his neck and chuckled at himself. "I'd hoped to be a little more eloquent with it, but..."
Keith continued to gape at him. "You never said anything."
Shiro nodded and focused on the end of his bed. "I didn't feel like I could. Like I should. I'm the leader, and where we are out here, I just...I didn't—don't—want to make things awkward for you. And I don't want you to feel like you have to respond a certain way, or—"
Keith stood up and walked to him and grabbed his hand. "I think you're pretty, too."
Shiro cut himself off and blinked at Keith. He hadn't dared to hope that Keith might reciprocate. "You...really?"
Keith nodded. "Since Galaxy Garrison. I just didn't think you did. Feel that way about me, that is."
Shiro looked at their linked hands, and rubbed his thumb along Keith's. "I do," he said softly. "I'm just not sure where we go from here."
Keith frowned, and then pushed at his shoulder until Shiro lay back down on the bed. Then Keith crawled in next to him, and Shiro automatically made room.
Keith started to lean over him, and then hesitated. "Is this okay?"
Shiro's heart was pounding so hard he'd nearly forgotten his headache. He could only nod.
Keith curled up next to him, resting his head on Shiro's chest. Shiro debated for a fraction of a second before he let his arm fall along Keith's back, pulling him close.
"We should just rest for now," Keith said. "I like you. You like me. We can figure everything else out later."
Shiro thought about arguing—the potential problems wouldn't just go away—but his bed was comfortable, Keith was warm, and he did have a headache.
And those problems would still be there when he woke back up. He'd just be more equipped to deal with them.
Shiro held Keith a little tighter and started to drift off again.
The last thing he heard before he slipped back into sleep was Keith whispering, "Rar go my toes."