Work Text:
When he first woke he thought it a was dream. It wasn't the first time he'd dreamed of lying in bed like this. Keith facing him with fingers running through his hair, their bodies close together. He hums in the back of his throat, tilting his head into Keith's hand, letting the warmth of Keith’s body spread like honey through his chest.
"There you are." Keith's voice is low and raspy, a touch of relief tinting his whisper. "I was so worried about you."
Shiro cracks open an eye to see those large violet ones edged in concern. They're in an unfamiliar room. Light too bright to be the castle ship stinging his retina. Wincing, he scoots a little closer, hiding his face in the crook of Keith’s neck. Where they are within his dream doesn't matter, not when Keith's soft and inviting before him.
The space between them disappears as he presses flush against him, lifting his face to trace the tip of his nose along Keith's jaw, light and affectionate. In real life he'd never had the nerve to be so bold but dream Shiro wasn't afraid to take such liberties.
Instead of leaning forward to return the touch Keith leans back. The hand in Shiro’s hair sliding to clutch at the side of his face and keep him still.
"What were you doing out there?"
Opening his eyes once more he furrows his brow, confused by the question. "Out where?"
Lips pressed in a straight line Keith looks at him seriously. "You passed out. I found you just… lying there in one of the meadows."
Keith's words don't make sense. They feel too real, too out of place in the fantasy dreamscape. Something cold and dreadful filters into Shiro’s consciousness, submerging him in the fact that this is not right. He racks his brain, searching for his last memories.
They were in Voltron, seconds away from being torn apart in the rift threatening to destroy the universe. After what had felt like hours, the monsters they'd fought were finally being pushed back, a chance to end it suddenly appearing like a glittering yellow brick road. He'd given Keith the command, had gathered all his remaining strength to shout into the comms.
"Now, Keith!"
Gasping he shoots up straight, sheets falling to pool at his hips, eyes wide and head swivelling. "Did we do it?"
The pain in his head is almost blinding but he manages to grasp tightly to Keith's arm and steady himself. "Is the rift closed? Where are we?"
Alarmed, Keith sits up as well, "Shiro? What are you talking about?"
Shiro stares wordlessly, his sore, tired mind startled into focus as he really notices Keith for the first time. More specifically his hair. The inky strands that fall soft and light over his neck, the ones he's worshipped in private for years, are no longer there. Bangs still hang heavily in his eyes but the back is shorn, an undercut throwing the long column of his pale neck into relief.
With trembling fingers and something like shock he reaches out. "When did you-"
"Daddy!"
His question is cut by the appearance of two children rushing into the room. They crawl up onto the bed, both throwing themselves into Shiro's lap, small hands grabbing at his arms. He jerks back, mouth dropping open to stare at Keith once more.
Apprehension and something else have replaced the confused look on Keith's face and he reaches forward to pull the small girl into his own lap.
"Andy," Keith says hesitantly, stretching his other hand towards the boy now trying to scale Shiro's shoulders. "Percy. Give your father some space, he's... not feeling well."
"But dad," the boy, Percy, whines. His little fingers gripping into the front of Shiro's shirt and looking at him with big eyes and a devastating pout. "You said you'd bring us to the space museum today."
Behind him the girl in Keith's lap nods, her tiny bottom lip sticking out in her own sad pout.
"I don't think that's a good idea," Keith says, cautiously searching Shiro's face as though he's looking for confirmation.
There are no words. Nothing but blank shock echoing through his mind. He looks between the little people in front him. The small girl, maybe about three-years-old, has dark black hair just reaching her shoulders, huge familiar grey eyes watching him. The boy still clinging to him and looking expectant must be about six, his black hair cut the same as Shiro's, the slope of his nose reminding him of a younger Keith, before the first break. These children are… theirs?
"Percy. Can you take Andy to go brush your teeth?" Keith asks looking seriously worried and tugging on the shoulder of the boy.
"But what about the museum?"
"Let me talk to your father about it."
Father?
"But daaad-"
"No buts," Keith gives him a meaningful look, "Percy, please."
"Okay," the kid mumbles, sliding off the bed and hanging his head dejectedly. "C'mon Andy."
The little girl snaps her eyes from Shiro to lift her head questioningly up at Keith. Softly he smiles at her, bending to kiss her forehead. Despite Shiro’s stupor, the gesture is incredibly endearing.
"Go on," Keith encourages.
With a final glance at Shiro, she offers a shy smile, pudgy cheeks dimpling in the corners, then follows after her brother.
Staring at the open door Shiro tries to calm the pounding in his chest, wishing desperately that he could still believe this was just a dream.
"Shiro?"
Keith's voice is hushed, nervous. When Shiro looks back at him his hand is hovering in the air between them, shaking and unsure.
"We have children," he breathes. There's a million things to say, a million things to ask, but that's what falls from his lips.
"Andromeda and Perseus. You don't… recognize them?"
With that Keith's hand falls from the air to land limply on the bed. He hunches his shoulders in on himself, a pain so poignant across his face it grips it's claws in Shiro's chest.
He doesn't understand what's happening. Can't comprehend how he and Keith could possibly have a family. His eyes plead with Keith.
"The last thing I remember is Voltron striking to close the rift. How did we end up here?"
"Voltron?" Keith's face looks desperate, hands coming up to grip hard into his shoulders, "Shiro, what are you talking about? What rift?"
Those deep amethyst eyes pierce into his own, trying to search out the truth, "Did you hit your head out there? Should I call someone?"
Keith's breaths are shallow and panicked, fanning across Shiro's lips but not in the way he's always longed for. His heart breaks to see Keith looking so scared, so uncertain. He'd do anything to take that away.
Swallowing past the lump in his throat he manages to whisper, "No I'm - it must have been a bad dream."
Keith stops breathing in front of him and his lungs catch. Can he sense the lie? He fumbles for something else to say.
"My head hurts a little." At least that's not a lie. "Maybe I just need to lie down for a bit."
“Shiro-”
“I didn't eat much either, must have low blood sugar or something.” It's reaching, he knows.
Keith's eyes begin to flick back and forth between his own. He can almost see his mind working. It's a look he's seen countless times before, pulled whenever Keith is torn by indecision. It bubbles forth a feeling of affection so strong that it tugs at the corners of Shiro's mouth, softening.
"Are you sure that's it?"
"Yes." Shiro lightly covers the hand still holding his shoulder in reassurance, "I'm fine, just tired."
Stalling for a moment longer Keith finally takes a breath. It's long and drawn out, probably used to collect himself. "Okay. I'll take the kids to the museum today. You stay here, eat something and get some more sleep."
"Okay." Shiro tries for a smile. Despite his utter confusion it stretches gentle and naturally with Keith.
Moving to lie back down Keith digs his nails in and holds him firmly upright with a, "hey."
Then he leans in, pressing soft, pink lips lightly to Shiro's. Instantly heat radiates from those lips down to his core, sparking a tiny flame in the passion he's tried to bury for so long. Shiro’s hands twitch, itching to press deeper but Keith's already pulling back to rest against his forehead.
"I love you," he whispers, gently holding the back of Shiro's neck.
Not even recovered from the kiss, those words are like a thunderbolt to his heart. His reply tumbling out of his mouth reflexively.
“I love you too,” he breathes.
Then he’s capturing Keith’s mouth on instinct, palm rising to Keith’s cheek. This time pushing forward hard and urgent. He kisses Keith like he's only thought of until now. All his yearning, his pent up emotions pouring into the kiss that sears itself across his brain, committing each microscopic sensation to memory. Keith's soft hair between his fingers, Keith’s gasp of surprise against his lips.
“Whoa, easy there,” Keith murmurs, half laughing as he pushes Shiro away breathlessly. “The kids...”
He's looking at Shiro in mostly fondness but concern still lingers in those watchful eyes. “Just rest, okay. We’ll be back in a few hours.”
Shiro can only nod and stare wide eyed after Keith as he leaves the room, lips still pulsing with the rapid beating of his heart. He should be making a plan but his mind is stuck, unable to process any of the last few minutes. Just that he finally kissed Keith. The man he's loved since exactly two hours and sixteen minutes after first meeting him.
As panicked and confused as he is, he can’t help but raise trembling fingers to trace across his lips, awed and maybe even a little pleased if his thoughts were able to filter properly. But the longer he sits there, the longer that sense of dread creeps back in.
Because he knows it wasn't a bad dream or the result of low blood sugar. One second he'd been in Voltron with his team and the next he'd woken up here. In this… this…
… alternate reality.
Mouth dropping open with his gasp, he suddenly takes in the room. It's a simple bedroom. Large bed, clean sheets. Dresser and bedside table. A few framed photos hung around the room.
On shaky legs he rises from the bed, blurred figures coming into focus as he approaches the largest frame. Keith and Shiro are leaning towards each other on a picnic blanket, a little boy sitting between them and holding a tiny bundle of blankets with a little cherub face nestled inside. Both men are looking down, smiling at their baby girl with love and wonder so plainly in their gazes. Percy’s smiling wide, straight at the camera, large gap adorably between his two front feet. A picture perfect, loving family.
Heart pounding in his throat, thoughts frantically skittering inside his skull, he scans the room, signs of family life found in every nook and cranny. A pile of diapers on the bedside table. A few toys littered around the bed. Tiny clothes hanging over the laundry hamper. The more he sees the more his terror grows.
Briefly he notices the other photos on adjacent walls but he can't look at them too hard. He doesn't need to though. Images of himself, Keith and two little children changing and growing attack his sensibilities, throwing everything he's ever known against the fan. Destroyed pieces of the life he’s had falling in shredded ribbons around the evidence of another life he's apparently lived.
The rift was a gateway to other realities, Slav had explained as much had he not? Somehow, in their fight to seal it they must have been lost. Does this mean that they'd failed? Where were the other paladins? Pidge, Hunk, Lance? Why were they not here too?
And Keith? How could he not know? When Shiro had mentioned Voltron he'd shown not even a flicker of recognition. Why was Shiro the only one who remembered?
He's up and pacing again. Around a room that brings no comfort, only more questions. How can they get back? How will they find the others?
Replaying every moment, every move and counter move of their fight he tries to find the answer but it eludes him. Hours later when he's exhausted and feels the weariness turn his muscles to stone that drag him down upon the bed he still has no answers. Only temporarily muted panic as his eyes slip closed and a blessed darkness takes over.
The next morning is… frustrating at best. Shiro had been hoping that time would bring back Keith’s memories of their reality but so far no luck. Too afraid to bring up Voltron or the rift again, Shiro had opted to prod him gently about their team. If they could find them, then surely they’d figure out how to get home.
But Keith had only stared blankly at Shiro when he'd asked about their friends. The names meaning nothing and Shiro had stumbled to pass them off as acquaintances he must not have met. But they could be anyone here, looking like anybody so he'd tried as subtly as he could to prod Keith for information over breakfast.
What happened to that flashy, competitive guy Keith always had problems with? When was the last time they saw the large mechanic they both knew? Didn't they have plans to meet up for coffee with their friend? You know the technical wizard?
Nothing.
Everytime Shiro said something out of place Keith's brows would scrunch together as he shrewdly eyed Shiro. The more Shiro pushed the more suspicious Keith became and he worried that if he tried too hard he'd scare Keith away. Knowing far too well how easily this man spooked.
Or at least used to.
Seeing Keith as a father was opening a whole new man to Shiro’s already floundering heart. Like a coiled fern under sudden light, Keith was unfurling before his eyes, reaching sticky tendrils out to those he loved. He was warm and open and patient. Virtues Shiro knew many had never seen in Keith before.
When Andy fell and scraped her knees, Keith had held her to his chest and whispered sweet words into her hair. When Percy grew frustrated, yelling at the shoelaces he couldn't tie, Keith was there to calmly guide him through it. When Shiro proved useless in all areas concerning the care of their children, Keith rolled his eyes and took up his post. Gently reminding Shiro what temperature Andy liked her milk, what backpack was Percy’s favourite, all the things he should've known already as their dad.
The children worried Shiro the most. What would happen to them when they left this place? Would Shiro and Keith be replaced by their alternative selves or had they simply absorbed into them? Even with his memories back he knew Keith wouldn't be able to leave them behind. The fealty Keith had for these children was obvious, palpable. If Shiro was being honest he might have admitted they were growing on him as well.
And through it all it was becoming increasingly difficult to evade Keith's little touches. A brush of his hand against Shiro’s own. Crowding into him against the kitchen counter. The quiet, adoring way Keith gravitates towards Shiro in spite of his knowledge that something isn't right between them tears into Shiro and brings his self control to it's very limit.
It would be wrong to take advantage of Keith in this time. Sure Keith thinks he loves him now but how will he feel when this reality falls away? As much as Shiro thought they might be heading in this direction, to just jump on board and get while getting’s good makes something ugly rise in Shiro’s throat. But even Shiro can't help himself when he turns into Keith’s embrace for a light kiss against the corner of his lips when Keith and the kids leave for the day.
It's fluid, easy. So natural it makes Shiro wonder how they haven't gotten to this point already. The steady heat that settles over him and flows with assuredness through his veins decides it for him. When everything is fixed he'll finally tell Keith how he feels, what he’s dreamt about for so long. And then he’s going to fight damn hard to get it.
With small mercy it appears that Shiro works from home. Leaving him alone in the house to analyse their situation while the rest of its occupants are gone. The paralyzing alarm from yesterday has finally subsided, leaving a cold determination in its place. Today he’ll make a plan, find their team and set things right. Grabbing the holopad from the counter he flicks through the files, trying to learn anything that might be useful.
He seems to be in a place similar to Earth if not slightly more idyllic. The area they're in is mountainous and peaceful. Looking out at them, Shiro feels like a refugee Austrian family might come singing about the hills being alive at any moment.
After a few hours of fruitless searching he's learned nothing more about his friends but the picture of the tranquil, domestic life he's found himself in feels more complete. Percy goes to private school, loves space and exploration and smiles in almost every picture that's ever been taken. Andy is more shy, always seen attached to either Keith or himself when she's home but otherwise spends her days at her aunt's house while Keith works in an office and Shiro from home. For all appearances Shiro and Keith seem to be living their own slice of utopia, madly in love with their family and each other. Always touching, always looking, always in the other’s space. It's wholesome in its simpleness but leaves him feeling queasy in a way he can't place.
When it gets to be too much, feeling as though he being buried beneath a life he doesn't know he grabs the holopad and takes a walk, trying to collect his thoughts. By the time he reaches a quiet spot he's shocked so hard by the buzzing of the pad he almost drops it. When he brings it into the view the relief that loosens his aching, clenched muscles is a god send.
“Pidge,” he breathes, a smile stretching wide across his face. “You've found us. Where are you?”
The frown that presses down her lips is surprising. “Shiro, what do you mean by us?”
It takes him back and he blinks. “Keith and I. We haven't found the others yet and Keith doesn't remember Voltron. Tell me you know where Lance and Hunk are.”
“I can find them, but Shiro,” her frown deepens. “That's not Keith you're with.”
It's like the earth gives way beneath him, all the blood rushing out and leaving him pale. “That's not possible. I've been with him since yesterday.”
She averts her eyes, “Just let me bring them up.”
“Pidge?”
But she ignores him, fingers flying frantically off screen while his whole body starts to shake. Apprehension and a dreadful foreboding steadily taking hold.
One by one faces appear as the screen splits four ways. First Hunk, then Lance joining with Pidge, none of them looking like they know what's happening. Lastly a face he didn't even realize was missing flickers into view. In that second Shiro’s entire world crumples on its fixed axis. Wobbling dangerously on the tiny thread still holding it up.
Shiro can't even look at him. He's so completely, crushingly beautiful. Sharper features, thinner face. That unruly mop of black hair looking as messy as ever. This is his Keith.
The Keith he first met at the Garrison, the one he thought of in his darkest moments as ‘The Champion’, the one who found him, sometimes halfway across the universe, every single time. The universe they saved together.
The devastating realization that they are not, in fact, together rakes across his skin. Oozing lines of deep red that trickle from his wounds.
Keith is not in a good place. As Shiro scans the background avoiding Keith’s gaze he can see the dark cement prison, the way the screen rattles and the slight grind of Keith’s teeth with every shake.
The team speaks around them and Shiro tries to listen as best he can. Always aware of the man whose eyes stay focused mostly on him, feeling where they burn into him. When Pidge bluntly reveals their reality is gone to them, that they've been torn apart with no way of getting home, everything goes dark. Eyes falling automatically to Keith, the person who always mattered above all else.
At Pidge’s revelation Keith goes ghostly white. A pale beacon at the end of a tunnel, breathlessly repeating Shiro’s name and falling to pieces. With punishing clarity Shiro knows he'll never get there, no matter how fast he can fly he'll never reach him again.
“Keith,” he whispers. ”Oh Keith.”
He’ll never again fight by his side, awed by his strength and determination. Never again feel the blaze of his fierce loyalty and friendship. Never again revel in the quieter moments, the hint of a future that would've come as easy as breathing.
It's more than he can take.
Pidge and Hunk tell them where they are, the terror climbing up Shiro’s spine somewhat lessening to know that they’re safe. Lance’s reality sounds too horrifying to comprehend but at least on his version of Earth he might be safe too, albeit probably not emotionally.
When it gets to Shiro’s turn he can hardly bring himself to speak the words. To tell the team he’s living an alternate reality so close to his definition of paradise, aside from one glaringly cruel twist of fate. Uncomfortably he chooses to share the two things that have already grabbed on to him and taken hold. His children.
When Keith encourages him, telling him he’ll be a great dad, the pain laced in his voice is suddenly clear as day. Shiro’s next words are out of his mouth before he can stop them.
“That’s funny, I always thought you’d make a great dad too.”
It’s the worst thing to say, cutting him straight down to the bone. The grin on his face bitter. Because the Keith in this reality is an amazing father but he’s not his Keith. Not exactly the father he always imagined Keith would be. He wants to tell him. Let him know that this Keith won't measure up, won't complete his life in the way that only he can. Would that make it any better? Would Keith find any comfort in that?
The unhinged laughter that falls from Keith when he learns the children are named after constellations tells him that no. Keith would not find comfort in that.
Shiro’s just barely holding on, hands gripping hard against the metal of the holopad, his prosthetic hand threatening to crush it. Is this really the last time he’ll see them? This group of people who were barely even adults when it all started. Who had the weight of the universe bear down on them with a ten thousand year dictatorship to overthrow. Who rose to the occasion and became a family with bonds stronger than any one he’s known by blood.
He watches as Keith lies his way through his whereabouts. Shiro’s splintering heart almost audible as he starts to sense Keith’s dire predicament. He’s always been a man of few words but the way he avoids everyone’s concern, the way he hides behind a smile that’s anything but reassuring tells him that Keith might be the worst off out of all of them.
He doesn’t deserve this. None of them do, but Keith in particular -
DOES. NOT. DESERVE. THIS.
Every cell in Shiro’s body aches with the desire, the absolute need to be there with him. To protect Keith like he’s always strived to do. Like Keith has done for him more times than he can count.
Out of all the failures in his life, this will be the one that destroys him.
When Keith meets his eyes dead on, tells them how he’s going to miss them, Shiro says the only thing that comes to him without thinking. How he’s proud of them, how at least the universe is safe. Even if they’re no longer in it.
His throat is closing up. His vision spots out. He thinks he might be sick. But there’s nothing he can do. Helpless against a destiny he wants no part of.
Just when he thinks he might actually be driven mad with despair Lance and Keith start to bicker. The motions, the rising annoyance pulling him from his dark pit and lightening his chest in its familiarity. Almost reverently Shiro’s eyes track Keith’s face, his expression, the tension in his shoulders noticeably lessening as he and Lance say goodbye in their own roundabout way. When Keith meets Shiro’s eyes once again all he can do is shrug, quietly trying to memorize the playful light in those piercing violet eyes.
It makes him laugh. All of them laugh. Enjoying these bittersweet last few moments, remembering first and foremost that no matter how many realities seperate them they’ll always have this. This last chance to say goodbye.
“Shiro.”
The moment snaps, a word so anguished, so full of bursting emotion ringing into their reprieve. Keith’s face is twisted. Urgency in every movement. With bated breath Shiro waits, heart suspended and hanging off whatever Keith might say next. “Shiro, I-”
His square goes blank, the tiny box that held his face blinking out with an echoing boom in an instant.
“Keith!” he distantly hears himself shout as he spirals. “Keith! Please, no!”
But he’s gone.
Taking with him everything left unsaid. Everything that should have been said.
“No. No, please, no. Please no-” Shiro’s repeating, half coherent noises into the void that’s been punched right through his being.
The other three squares still hold his team, the shocked faces of the other paladins. Tears falling silently down Pidge’s face.
“Is he?” she sobs before she can finish her sentence, “o-k-kay?”
“I dunno,” Shiro hears Lance murmur through his own fog. More emotion in his tone than he’s ever heard before.
“I think our time is up,” Hunk hurriedly presses. “I love you guys, I’m going to miss you. Please stay safe, please-” Hunk’s square cuts out.
“Hunk!” Lance shouts, then quickly, “Shiro, Pidge, I’ll never forget you. Thank you-” Another square blinks out of existence.
“I’m so sorry Shiro,” Pidge says through her tears, shoulders trembling in grief. “I’m sorry I can’t do more.”
It finally shakes Shiro out of his stunned silence.
“No Pidge, this was - it’s more than we could’ve hoped for -” he’s not sure what else to say besides, “- thank you.”
“Goodbye Shiro,” she whispers. Barely even sounds.
“Goodbye.”
With one last look the entire pad goes black. Empty like the field he’s still standing in, the sun almost fallen behind the mountains at his back. But he doesn’t feel its last remaining rays of warmth, instead he feels the ones that have already died. That have sunk so low beneath the horizon it’s like they were never there at all, the cold left in their wake filling every crack that's fissuring deep inside of him.
His grip around the holopad turns crushing and the screen cracks beneath his metal fingers. Falling to the hard earth just as he does. Sucking and desperate for air he can't take in, his lungs ruptured and bleeding out. He grabs at his hair, his eyes squeeze tight and he almost wishes they had died closing that rift. Surely then they might have had some peace.
Instead this is agony. A purgatory where he's abandoned to live out his days without the people that make up his existence. Without his family. Without Keith.
Without his heart.
It feels like forever before he can move. Body and mind long since gone numb. To the point where his limbs push off on their own, dragging his tortured soul to the only home he knows in this reality.
At the table his false family sits. Keith’s eyes going wide when he enters the room but he doesn't say anything. Shiro can tell by the rigid set of his jaw that he's angry but his eyes have always been too expressive, giving away his true feelings to anyone lucky enough to know where to look. Without a word Shiro tears his gaze away, stumbling down the hall and unable to look at this Keith another second.
They're so similar that it eats away the working part of his brain that tells him Keith is gone. The same eyes, same looks, same fierce determination. Except this Keith is softer, his body never subjected to the tireless days and nights of training. Subjected to fighting a war that shouldn't have been his to fight. The fact that Shiro missed this detail before almost makes him shatter.
He really does breakdown a few seconds later, collapsing in a ball on the mattress of their bedroom, when he realizes that this Keith is more his than the one he's just lost. The real Keith never really his to begin with. All his plans and all his dreams and everything he hoped they might get to be at the end of the war is gone.
That Keith is gone.
He's not sure when, not sure if he slipped into unconsciousness or has just been lying uselessly empty, but sometime later Keith enters the room. The click of the door behind him the loudest thing blaring through Shiro’s ears since he screamed Keith’s name what feels like an eternity ago. The bed dips behind him and seconds later, lightly, tentatively, a hand brushes down his neck, slowly trailing to cup his shoulder.
Keith speaks into the wide distance between them, his voice rough and quiet. “I don't know what's happening Shiro. I don't know how to help you but… I'm here.” He gives Shiro’s shoulder a gentle squeeze, “If you need me.”
The words, the gesture, the heartbreaking space and devotion is so very Keith that it would’ve decimated his heart all over again if he wasn't currently drowning in it and half comatose. Instead he feels it throb against the gaping half of himself that's missing, still pricking angrily like a phantom limb. Keith says nothing more, just keeps his hand on his shoulder and shuffles the tiniest bit closer, movements slow and deliberate so Shiro doesn't scare.
Eventually, when Keith presses against him in the dead of night, Shiro can't help but turn into him, a hand twisting into Keith’s shirt until his knuckles turn white. Burrowing his face into Keith’s neck, just under his jaw. His sheer need to be with Keith, to keep him safe, overpowering all rational thought. And when this Keith moves against him, turning his head to leave reverent kisses at his temple, Shiro leans into them. Slowly, chest contracting painfully and breath caught in his lungs, he drags his face up toward those gentle lips, until he meets them with his own.
It hurts. More than anything he's felt today this kiss flays him alive and burns him where he lies.
But for the life of him he can't stop.
Through the watery tears on his face and the hollowness inside-
He can't let go.