Archive of Our Own

Time has a habit of not existing in certain spaces. Waiting for the bus in the rain; driving down a deserted highway surrounded by corn; visiting your grandmother’s grave by yourself after dark.

Sitting alone in a Denny’s parking lot at 1 AM.

The air is dry, which is to be expected in the desert. It’s also dusty and smells like frying oil, a combination of sensations that are more confusing than they should be. The sky is completely clear, but it’s a new moon tonight, and the only light sources otherwise are the distant stars and the flickering light pole at the corner of the lot. It feels destitute and forgotten, void of all life. Or perhaps it seems more like a world unto itself, separated from any and all time and space surrounding it.

A fitting place to escape to, then. Maybe here life won’t be able to catch up to him.

And yet Shiro can’t decide what he wants to do.

A man doesn’t find himself at a Denny’s at one in the morning because he’s in a good place. Shiro knows this, knows that he should be in bed, or talking to a friend, or doing anything else, really. But he also knows that there are worse places he could be, and that craving Denny’s fries when your midlife crisis shows up twenty years too early isn’t as wild as his imagination is making it out to be.

But Shiro didn’t expect to find himself here, of all places; a beat up old diner that should have gone out of business over a decade ago. Although to be fair, he didn’t expect to find himself anywhere. When Matt told him the news, it shocked him to his core, leaving him stumbling and numb, and he just needed to get away. From what, exactly, Shiro didn’t know. From Matt? From his stifling apartment? From everything and anything? It was too much. Too much. So Shiro just got in the van and drove. It was a mindless act, driving along these dirt roads, the steering wheel gripped in his hands. It’s a lot like piloting, albeit a cheap imitation of it. But like flying, driving equaled movement, it equaled action. Driving, flying, it was all going, going, going. It’s what Shiro knew, what he wanted. What he needed.

But now…

Shiro runs his metal hand over his face, finding its cool touch relieving.

He’s being a baby. There’s nothing wrong with simply going inside and sitting down to clear his head. There’s nothing wrong with this situation at all. He’s a grown man. He can decide to drown his sorrows in a plate of Denny’s fries if he wants to, for god’s sake. Given his mental state, it’s probably better than driving aimlessly anyway.

That settles it, then.

With a sigh, Shiro unbuckles his seatbelt, hops out of the van, and makes his way across the asphalt. There are only two other vehicles in the too-large parking lot, both motorcycles. Other than that, there’s nothing to indicate life of any kind.

With the stars looming overhead, he feels exposed. A cold breeze passes by and he picks up his pace. It’s not that the parking lot is particularly haunting tonight, at least not more than usual, not more than any other old parking lot in the middle of the desert. But a loneliness that he can’t seem to shake followed him here from his apartment, as if the problems he’s running from could catch up with him at any moment, no matter how intangible they may be. The stars, once so inviting, look like they’re taunting him now.

Do you see us, Shiro? Do you see? Come, look at what you’ll never have.

Another cold breeze passes by, and Shiro moves from a brisk walk to a jog, then to a run, and before he realizes it he’s sprinting the last remaining meters between him and the diner entrance.

And that’s what he’s doing, isn’t it? Running. Ignoring. Hoping the problem will go away on its own, that he’ll wake up to hear that nothing’s changed. His future is set. There is nothing to worry about. The past four years haven’t been a waste. His life is the same, nothing is wrong.

If only.

Shiro’s only slightly winded when he gets to the entrance, but stepping through the Denny’s doorway brings more relief than stepping through a Denny’s doorway ever should.

The dining area, like the parking lot, is almost completely empty, save for one person at the counter and one person behind it. The person sitting at the counter— a man— has his face turned away from him, but Shiro recognizes the jacket tied around his waist. It’s part of the orange uniform issued to every Garrison student, from freshmen to juniors.

So, he’s a fellow student. Not a senior, though, like him. Interesting. Students, besides seniors, aren’t supposed to be outside their dorms past 11 PM, let alone at a Denny’s at 1 AM.

But then again, even with his senior privileges, Shiro probably shouldn’t be here either. Iverson would have his head if he knew Shiro was out this late. And he can hear the lecture now: “Just because the Kerberos Mission went sideways doesn’t mean the Garrison doesn’t need you in tip-top shape, Shirogane! You better get your ass in gear before you run yourself into the ground. I expected better from you.”

The worst part is, the part that kills him, is that he knows Iverson’s right.

He ends up sitting at the bar, a single seat between him and the other student. His face is still hidden by the hand he’s leaning on, and Shiro, ever the conversationalist, wants to reach out, to say hello, but the waiter behind the counter moves to stand in front of him before he gets the chance.

“What could I get for you?” The waiter— his name tag indicates he goes by Lotor— looks at him with a bored expression.

There’s no need for a menu since Shiro knows what he’s in the mood for. “I’ll just have a coffee and a plate of cheese fries, thanks.” Not his usual comfort food of choice; that would be his grandfather’s homemade macaroni gratin. But for what it’s worth, anything fried and cheesy serves Shiro’s purposes just as well, given his limited options.

Lotor doesn’t reply, just wordlessly turns around, grabs a mug, pours some coffee from the pot behind him, and places it in front of Shiro before he heads through the swinging doors that Shiro can only presume leads to the kitchen.

He curls his hands around the mug, savoring the warmth it brings in the chilly dining area, before moving to take a sip. The diner is quiet. The only sound is the soft hum of the air conditioning unit and the muted notes of background music. Some sort of jazz song reminiscent of what’s usually played in an elevator. The atmosphere is, strangely enough, calming. He takes another sip of his coffee, grimacing at its intense bitterness. It tastes burnt and like it’s been sitting out for hours, but he drinks more of it anyway. He doesn’t want to fall asleep at the wheel of Matt’s pride and joy, Velma the Volkswagon, on his way back to their apartment, so old and stale coffee will have to do.

Still curious, Shiro sneaks a glance at the man next to him. There’s a plate of fries and a glass of what looks like beer sitting in front of him. The beer’s almost gone, but the plate of fries are virtually untouched. Nothing remarkable.

The man though…

Shiro is finally able to get a good look at his face, and his quick glance ends up turning into a full-on stare. There’s a vague sense of familiarity about him, something he can’t quite place, but Shiro can’t help but dismiss it. If he saw this face before, he’d remember. Those eyes...

They’re beautiful. He’s beautiful.

“You’re in for an experience. When Lotor makes cheese fries they’re soggy and gross but you can’t stop eating them once you start. I suggest you turn back now.”

The man, shoulders tense, spares him a glance and a ghost of a smirk, and Shiro immediately knows he’s been caught staring, feeling his entire face turn a deep shade of red. The man meets his eyes for a brief moment, lets them linger before taking a sip of his beer, the plate of very soggy, very gross looking cheese fries remaining untouched.

Well, you live and learn. He turns away, fixating his eyes on the wall in front of him, shifting in his seat. “Good to know, but I think I’m already committed.”

“Fair enough. Don’t say I didn’t warn you though.”

Shiro glances back and gestures to the man’s own plate. “Looks like you ignored your own advice.”

He still looks tense, but his eyes give him away, filled with longing and regret as he looks down at the concoction before him. “Touché.”

They sit in silence for another moment, but… Shiro wants to talk. Needs to talk. He needed a distraction. That’s why he came here, isn’t it? To take his mind off things? Why not speak to him, this beautiful stranger that emanates familiarity? It’s not like they’re going to cross paths again anyway. Shiro clears his throat. “So… what brings you here?”

The man looks at him, nervous, closed off, and at first he doesn’t reply. Shiro figures he’s just going to ignore him, which, well, was always a possibility. He certainly has no claim or right to know anything about this man. But after a moment, he speaks. “There weren’t any decent bars nearby.”

The comment comes out unexpectedly deadpan, and Shiro can't help but laugh with a snort. Well, that’s true. This Denny’s is probably the only restaurant certified to serve any sort of alcohol within a fifty-mile radius of the Garrison. Going to school in an isolated desert town usually means options are limited. For some it takes getting used to, but Shiro loves the quiet and the vastness of the desert. It soothes him. Reminds him of space.

Well, it used to soothe him. Now it just feels like he’s stuck in a pressure cooker, ready to blow.

“And you?” The man looks at him, head tilted. “What brings you here?” The question is unexpected, although Shiro isn’t sure why. Given Shiro’s own inquiry, it’s a fair one to ask.

“Oh, you know… just, your typical life crisis, I guess.”

The man snorts. “I’ll drink to that.” He takes another sip of his drink before sighing and glancing at his fries. Another minute of silence goes by, then two, then five, and Shiro notes that the man relaxes into his seat a little bit more, even if it’s just slightly. Eventually he nods towards his plate and says, “You can have those, if you want.”

Shiro cringes. “I think I’ll pass.”

“Eh, it was worth a shot.” He grabs a fry and sniffs it, nose puckering as he puts it in his mouth and chews slowly.

“The verdict?” Shiro asks.

“Absolutely disgusting.” He shoves a handful in his mouth, never once breaking eye-contact.

Shiro gulps.

Thankfully, Lotor chooses this moment to come back out of the kitchen, Shiro’s own plate of fries in his hand. He puts it down with a flourish, as if he’s proud of the mess he’s presenting. “There you are.”

They only look marginally better than the other plate. The smothering of melted artificial cheese does help with the presentation though. He stares at it, contemplating all of his life decisions up until this point before bracing himself for a taste.

It turns out the man’s right; they are disgusting and soggy and wilted and yet Shiro finds himself going back for more.

“I’m convinced it’s the cheese that does it. Even horrible fries can be redeemed by good cheese. Not even Lotor can screw that up.” The other Garrison student rests his head in his hand and sighs, swirling the monstrosity around in grease as if he’s resigned to his fate before chewing slowly and washing it down with more beer.

Lotor huffs. “Rude.”

But the man is right. The cheese is the only addictive property in this meal, otherwise it would’ve been thrown out with the trash the instant he saw it. Or at the very least he would have discreetly covered it with a napkin so he wouldn’t have to look at it again.

“Since you insist on insulting my craft, I’m going on break,” Lotor says while taking off his apron. “Don’t leave without paying.” He hops over the counter and shuffles off to the far corner of the dining room where he settles into a booth as far away from them as possible.

“Isn’t he the only one working?”

The man shrugs. “It’s Lotor. He does what he wants. No one’s coming in at this time anyway.” He pauses before adding, “Except you, apparently.”

“Well,” Shiro points out, “you’re here.”

“I’m here almost every night nowadays. Lotor expects to see me. You, however, are a fluke.”

A fluke, huh? “Am I at least a good one?”

The man looks at him, tilts his head before looking back down at the counter, avoiding eye contact. “Maybe.” He swigs down the last gulps of his drink.

Maybe.

Shiro can take a maybe.

They talk for awhile, and they don’t talk, long stretches of comfortable silence filling their conversation. It’s nice, more than nice. It’s the kind of break from reality Shiro’s been craving. And he learns a lot. Like that the only other customers the man usually sees are an old couple that’s out of the diner by nine, that somehow the single TV to the right only plays reruns of The Golden Girls and I Love Lucy, that Lotor’s father owns thirty-five Denny’s franchises to date, and that Lotor works at this one because he wanted to learn more about the family business.

“Kind of a terrible location for his dad to place him, huh?”

“It’s a sore subject. He doesn’t like to talk about it.”

But Shiro learns more personal things too. He learns that the man’s favorite thing to order is the cherry pie, and that he drives a motorcycle that he affectionately calls Red. He learns about his roommates, Hunk and Lance, and that while they drive him nuts he would fight the universe for them. He learns that he loves space, and the desert, and any place that feels open and vast and eternal.

"I love to drive Red around at night. I have this spot that I always end up at, though. Guess the desert just calls to me."

"I get it. It's like space to me. Like you're connected to it, somehow, and to be away from it makes you feel..."

"Incomplete."

Shiro nods. "Exactly."

Blue Eyes beams.

Shiro learns that this man's smile, while small, still radiates like the sun when he talks about things he loves.

He learns a lot of things, but mostly Shiro learns that jazz music played faintly through a vacant diner sounds creepy in theory, but isn’t so bad when you’re in good company, that perhaps he was foolish for running, that all he needed was some terrible food and nice conversation to help ground him back to the present.

He learns that there’s something special about this man with dark blue eyes and black hair who’s made a habit of lounging at Denny’s in the middle of the night.

It’s almost four in the morning by the time Lotor’s done with his “break” and the blue-eyed man decides he needs to head out for the night. Shiro is surprised to feel his heart sink in disappointment, the past couple hours ending all too quickly.

Blue Eyes leans back in his seat, the tension gone from his shoulders. Relaxation is a good look on him. “One for the road?”

Lotor rolls his eyes and grabs his mug, fills it with a beverage from the soda fountain.

Shiro’s brow furrows. “I thought you were-“

“It’s apple juice.” The man looks at him, his eyes shining. “I hope that doesn’t ruin the reputation I just spent the last couple hours trying to build.”

It’s surprising and yet somehow very fitting, and Shiro finds himself laughing easily. “No, I think you’re good.”

The man smiles, full and bright and ethereal. “I’m glad.” He takes a swig of juice, downing almost all of it two large gulps before placing the mug on the counter with a thunk and pulling the Garrison jacket over his shoulders.

He’s about to step through the door before he stops short, hand hovering just above the door handle. “You’ve been staring at my jacket all night,” he says. “I’m surprised you never brought it up.” His shoulders look tense again, wary, but with his back turned Shiro can’t read his face.

It feels strange to be called out, but Shiro is unsurprised. Even in just their short time together, the man’s proven to be very observant. “You’re a Garrison student.” The you shouldn’t be here goes unspoken between them.

The way his shoulders rise reminds Shiro of a dog’s fur standing on end. “You gonna report me?” He says it like it’s a challenge, like he expects it, like he wants it.

Shiro just shakes his head. “No.”

“Why not?”

“It’d be a bit hypocritical of me, wouldn’t it?”

The man turns, stares at Shiro’s own grey uniform jacket from the corner of his eye. “I suppose it would.” His puts his hand on the handle of the door, but he stops again, his head barely turned to face him. “Maybe... I’ll see you around?”

Shiro likes to imagine the man’s voice, while quiet, sounds hopeful. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Maybe.” He doesn’t anticipate this man being someone he’d see again, to be someone he’d want to see again. But if his options are choosing between never or maybe, well…

Shiro can always take a maybe.

*****

One week. It may not seem like long, but to Shiro it feels like an eternity. He’s still in a funk, lost and confused and clueless as to what his future holds.

To anyone else, Shiro’s predicament may seem like a small one. For sure others have bigger issues on their hands. For sure it’s insignificant and silly, given the grand scheme of things.

But it hurts, nonetheless. It hurts so much. To be so close and yet so far feels like a slap in the face, a genuine middle finger from life itself.

For as long as he can remember, it’s been Shiro’s dream to go to space, to see the stars, the galaxies, the planets, to enter into infinity, as his grandmother used to say. And he fought tooth and nail for that dream, conquered every obstacle that stood in his way. Although for a while it seemed like he wouldn’t achieve it. He remembers what the doctor’s said when he first lost his arm. “Being an astronaut is a pipe dream, kid. Try something else.”

But then the Garrison came along.

Iverson, one of the lead professors as well as the head of their Space and Aeronautics Department, learned about his dream and his talents on a chance encounter at a bus stop when Shiro was twenty years old. He discovered he had a knack for flying, for space, for adventure, and he quickly rose to the top, becoming one of the Garrison’s best pilots of this generation.

Shiro is proud of himself and his accomplishments, and while the title of “best” feels good, that’s never been something he cared about. No. He didn’t mind where he ranked. But when Shiro got the call that he’d been accepted for the Kerberos Mission-- Garrison University’s tenth ever launch into space-- he wanted to look everyone who ever doubted him in the eye and tell them they were wrong. He was going to space. A three-year mission. His future was set, locked in place. No stressing about where to go or what to do. Shiro’s dream, after years and years of fighting and fighting and winning, was finally coming to fruition.

All too quickly it came crashing down, his hopes and dreams burning to ash at his feet.

One week. One week since he got the call that the Kerberos Mission had been cancelled indefinitely.

It hurts enough that his dreams have been crushed like a bug, that by the time the Garrison is ready to try again there’ll be a new pilot, a new star for them to throw all their hopes and expectations upon, but now he’s spiraling and he doesn’t know what to do.

His future, once so bright and clear, is now foggy and uncertain. He’s graduating in just a couple months. Most of his classmates have their goals set, well on their way to their destination. But all of Shiro’s focus and drive has been about the mission and nothing else, so what does he have now?

Nothing.

It’s why he hasn’t told his grandfather yet, his parents. They’ve been the most supportive on this journey when everyone else told him “no,” and to disappoint them now hurts more than Shiro can bear. He doesn’t want them worrying about him and his uncertain future. He’s doing enough of that for all of them.

He doesn't even want to imagine what his grandmother would think, if she was still alive. She's been his biggest supporter, and to disappoint her would be the biggest blow of them all. Maybe it's a good thing she isn't here to witness Shiro's great Rise and Fall.

It doesn’t help that Matt is in a similar situation. Shiro knows the blow was equally as hard on him as it was on Shiro. Sure, Matt could always work for his dad in the lab, but Shiro knows Matt well enough to know that while grateful to everything his dad’s done for him, he’s ready to move onto something else, something of his own. Something like space.

But who knows when that will happen. Who knows if it will happen at all. For either of them.

With all of this weighing upon his mind and his heart, it’s no surprise Shiro’s at Denny’s again.

Like last time, he didn’t plan on it. It’s been a week since his last breakdown in the parking lot, and to be honest he hasn’t thought about that particular experience all week. He doesn’t know what draws him to the diner a second time, but he does find the walk across the parking lot a little bit easier, a little less fear inducing.

He still moves at a brisk pace though.

He spots a familiar red motorcycle parked near the building that he now knows is affectionately called Red.

Shiro smiles.

It’s late, just a little past midnight, so once again the dining area is mostly empty except for Lotor behind the counter. Shiro’s eyes skim across the area, looking for that familiar face. He spots him, sitting in the same spot as before, his jacket tied around his waist and books strewn out in front of him. Shiro’s heart leaps into his throat, and a part of him briefly wonders if he’s the reason he was drawn out here a second time.

He shakes the thought from his head before sitting in the same seat as last time. “Hey.”

The fellow Garrison student throws him a glance and the ghost of a smirk, teasing, and Shiro’s breath catches. “Didn’t think I’d be seeing you here again.”

“Didn’t expect to find myself here either, to be honest.”

Another small smirk crosses Blue Eye’s lips before he takes a sip of his drink— water this time— the only other dish in front of him an empty plate holding a fork and a knife. The textbooks Shiro spotted when he came in now come into focus, a few of which he recognizes. Intro to Astrophysics. Understanding Quantum Theory. The Essential Fighter Pilot Handbook. It seems like a textbook from the class Shiro TA’d last year is open in front of him, also.

By the looks of it, this kid is a Pilot major, likely Fighter Class if Shiro could take a guess…

Interesting.

There are only a handful of Fighter Class students studying at the Garrison at any one time. One of the university’s claims to fame, actually. They boast about how limited and intensive their piloting programs are, declaring that their small class sizes and focused training make superior pilots. Some would say it did, others would disagree, mainly those at Marmora Institute. Marmora is the biggest contender in space exploration, right alongside the Garrison, if not more. It’s a small institute with a low budget, only a small handful of staff at any given time, but the strides they’ve made in regards to interplanetary travel are held in high regard amongst anyone in the field. They also had a burning hatred for the Garrison for reasons Shiro couldn't really fathom. But Shiro learned a great deal from his professors at the Garrison, and he wasn’t considered the best up-and-coming pilot for nothing. Well, except for some junior Shiro’s only heard rumors about.

But the small class sizes usually meant that every Fighter Pilot knows each other, and yet Shiro can’t place this man’s face for the life of him.

Have they met? Do they know each other? Have they crossed paths before? They must have. That would explain the pull, why there’s a familiarity about him that calls to Shiro like a siren’s song.

Another part of Shiro knows that isn’t it. He’d remember a face like that anywhere. He may not have thought about going back to Denny’s during the past week, but that face was certainly not forgotten.

“Is that book for Flight Techniques with Professor Iverson?”

The man grunts in reply, his eyes heavy and tired.

“Midterms are coming up soon, right?”

Shiro’s given another grunt, this time accompanied with a sigh.

“Um, well,” Shiro clears his throat. “I TA’d for him last year. If you, uh, you need some help I could probably guide you through it.”

His eyes, already filled with starlight, look like they reflect the sun as they widen. “Seriously?” His face indicates Shiro’s response has the power to make or break him.

“Yeah,” Shiro nods, already more than willing to give this man anything he needs. “Absolutely.”

The man’s face melts with relief. “I’d really appreciate that.”

Shiro hadn’t expected to spend his night rehashing flight formations and technical acronyms, but it’s a welcome distraction. It feels good to be useful, to have something figured out. And it helps that he’s in good company. Somehow, someway, they have fun, or at least as much fun as a person can have going through notes and talking through flight mechanics.

Shiro glances up at the man he’s been coming to know next to him, studies his face, memorizes the furrow of his brow, the spark of his eyes. There’s a smile, albeit a small one, that makes its way gently across his face like a rolling wave, and Shiro can’t help but be swept in by the tide. His presence, demeanor, personality, entire being a salve to Shiro’s soul.

Yeah, good company definitely makes anything, everything, better.

“As riveting as this academic venture is,” Shiro jumps at Lotor’s voice when it comes from behind him, this time. “Are you planning to order anything, or shall I assume all this study has sullied your appetite?”

At the idea of food, Shiro’s stomach gurgles loudly. He chuckles, apologetic. “Actually, could I get some coffee and pancakes?”

Lotor sighs but nods, hopping over the counter with ease and heading to the kitchen.

When Shiro turns back to his study partner, Blue Eyes is biting his lip, pen hovering above paper, but eyes staring off into space. “Hey, you okay?”

The man turns his gaze to stare at Shiro, piercing and prodding. “Why are you helping me?”

The question, and the stare, catches him off guard. “We all need a hand sometimes. Simple as that.”

Blue Eyes doesn’t reply, just stares before turning back to the book. His posture though, Shiro notes, looks more relaxed than it did before. “I’m still a bit stuck on this one theory…”

They end up staying at Denny’s until three in the morning. Shiro is grateful it’s a Friday night and there’s no class tomorrow, since he’ll probably be wiped for the entire day. They accomplish a lot in just the couple hours, almost a whole notebook filled up. Shiro gets to eat his pancakes, although they’re incredibly burnt and he douses them in syrup in order to make them edible, and the man next to him laughs, full and satisfied, and once again Shiro finds himself at peace. He smiles back at the person he just spent three hours going over formulas and acronyms and formations with, feeling warm and content.

He could get used to this.

*****

By his third time pulling into the Denny’s parking lot at 1 AM, Shiro finally admits to himself that he might, just might, have a problem.

Or maybe less of a problem and more of an interest in a bright-eyed boy with dark hair and a smile that makes his heart stop. He just saw him two days ago and already he’s craving more of him.

Either way, Shiro can no longer pretend he’s there for the food. His past two visits proved that Lotor is terrible at cooking. He can’t even claim he’s here to soothe the the existential dread he feels when thinking about change and the future. Shiro doesn’t want to admit it, but he can’t get this man out of his mind.

They’ve only met twice, and Shiro knows two times shouldn’t be enough for him to be so intrigued and enraptured by another person. And yet…

And yet.

The walk through the parking lot is easier, even easier than last time, and Shiro finds himself walking slowly, taking in the cool night air that he’s come to love about the desert. Strange, how different it feels from that first night. It’s been barely a week and a half since then and it already feels like a lifetime ago, like a whole other time and place.

The familiar chime when Shiro walks through the door turns Lotor’s head from where he’s chatting, the familiar head of dark hair seated across from him.

Maybe he’ll get Blue Eye’s name tonight.

“Ah, if it isn’t my other favorite late-night customer.”

Shiro offers both of them his brightest smile. “Well fancy meeting you fine folks here.” He takes a seat directly next to the man this time, who easily shifts to make space for him.

This shift in comfort and proximity is a small victory, one that Shiro takes wholeheartedly.

“Coffee?” Lotor holds up the pot along with a mug.

“Sure. And a-” he glances over at the man’s plate; a slice of cherry pie, by the looks of it. “Slice of cherry pie, if you got any.”

“Sorry, we’re all out.” Lotor says as he pours the coffee.

Blue Eyes chokes on the piece of pie he just stuck in his mouth. “Uh. Sorry about that. I’d offer you mine but…”

“But you’ve eaten more than half of it. Don’t worry, I can pick something else.” He offers him another smile, and Shiro doesn’t miss the slight blush that dusts his cheeks.

Another small victory.

In the end he orders a bowl of ice cream, which makes Lotor raise an eyebrow. “Hot coffee with ice cream? Odd.”

“My midterm is tomorrow, by the way. The one on flight techniques? I’ll let you know how it goes. You really helped me out the other day. Even my roommates are grateful since I showed them the notes you helped me take.” Blue Eyes smiles, his eyes tired but clearly relieved.

“I take it they’re in the class with you?”

“Heh, yeah. Lance is convinced that if he passes they’ll let him in the Fighter Pilot class, so basically he now worships the ground you walk on.”

“Don’t go worshipping me yet. But I’m sure you’ll all do great.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that.”

Shiro pauses before he blurts out, “I’m Shiro, by the way.”

The man tilts his head and squints, like he’s confused, but he sticks out his hand for a shake anyway. “Nice to meet you, Shiro.”

Shiro hesitates before taking his hand with his prosthetic. Blue Eyes barely gives it a second glance before gripping it firmly. It’s a relief, if Shiro’s being honest. While he’s made peace with the accident and doesn’t mind talking about his experience, he’s endured enough scrutinization and invasive questioning to last him a lifetime.

They fall into a comfortable silence after that, although Shiro hears the occasional hum while his Denny's companion pores over his textbook and shoves a forkful of pie in his mouth.

It is incredibly peaceful, a far cry from Shiro’s day-to-day life that’s filled with more stress than he knows what to do with. It’s a surprise, realizing that this place has become some sort of safe-haven for him. It’s the last place he ever expected to find himself, the last place he expected to crave, and yet he feels at home here, at this stained counter and under the dim lighting and next to this man that he can’t stop thinking about.

They're quiet, mostly. Blue Eyes asking the occasional flight question, although at one point he stops writing notes to look up at Lotor. "Do you still sell that mozzarella stick grilled cheese sandwich?"

"No. My father wanted to keep it on the menu because it sold well but the Health Department made us take it off."

"...could you make it anyway?"

"Absolutely."

He turns to Shiro. "Want some of it? I'm only a little hungry and I have to get going. Won't have time to eat the whole thing anyway."

Shiro's thoughts scream and he wants to blurt out oh my god oh my god yes I will share a meal with you, you  beautiful man, even if it will inevitably give me heartburn. What he says is: "Sure. Why not?" 

After they quickly split and consume the sandwich that Lotor still manages to screw up (it's drenched in marinara sauce and Shiro is convinced he did it on purpose), Blue Eyes stretches and hands off some cash to Lotor. He hops up from his chair, grabbing his helmet from the seat next to him and already slipping it on. “So I guess I’ll see you around, Shiro?”

Shiro hopes that the grin on his face doesn’t look as dopey as it feels. “Yeah, I guess so. Good luck on your test. You’ll be great, I know it. Don’t let Iverson intimidate you.”

He smiles, soft and gentle. “I won’t. See ya.” He turns and waves. “Bye, Lotor.”

Shiro waves and Lotor ‘hmphs’ as he leaves the diner.

There’s a pregnant pause, Lotor picking his nails and Shiro unsure of what to do next. “Well… it uh, looks like I should be headed back too.”

Lotor chuckles. “What, now that Pretty Boy isn’t here you want to leave?”

Shiro’s face turns beat red. “That’s not-“

He dismisses Shiro with a wave of a hand. “Whatever. I’m not one to judge. At least he looks happier with you here.”

“He- he does?”

Lotor shrugs. “Not that we’re close. But he’s been coming here for a couple months now. Haven’t seen him smiling this much since he started showing up.”

“Really?”

He nods. “Absolutely. And he’s leaving earlier and earlier.” He gestures toward the clock. “This is the earliest I’ve seen him leave. Make of that what you will, but since he’s stayed until seven before, I consider it a good thing.”

Shiro blushes deep red. “Oh.”

Shiro’s not quite sure what to do with this information, but he holds it, cherishes it, can’t stop grinning the entire drive back to his off-campus apartment.

It’s only until he gets home later that night that he realizes he never got Blue Eyes’ name.

*****

“So, Shiro. Tell me about this person who’s got you so distracted.”

It’s the next morning, and both he and Matt have the day off, no classes or work, a rare thing for them. So naturally Shiro is up at six, feeds his cat, Velveeta, and Cheddar, his goldfish, and does his morning jog around campus before helping himself to a hearty breakfast of soggy Honey Nut Cheerios at 7:30 AM.

Matt wakes up after twelve, drinks some lukewarm coffee, and almost immediately falls back asleep on the couch before Velveeta sits on his face and wakes him up because he can’t breathe.

But now both of them sit in the living room, Matt on the floor and Shiro on the couch, Velveeta’s white paws kneading at his sweatpants while they watch a movie. It’s one they’ve watched a hundred times but always make a point of watching together. They both knew this day off was coming. Had planned on binging movies until their eyes were sore since the first of the month.

Except Shiro isn’t paying an ounce of attention, and Matt knows it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Matt rolls his eyes and raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying what Shiro is trying to sell. “You’ve been super spacey the past few weeks. I know the Kerberos news hit you, both of us, hard, but in all the years I’ve known you, you've only ever been spacey that one time, freshman year. And we both know how that turned out. You made a man transfer, Shiro. Transfer. You were inconsolable for weeks.”

Shiro feels his face heat up. “It’s not like that, Matt. Come on, man.”

“At least tell me his name.”

Shiro’s silence is telling.

“Shiro… god. You don’t even know this poor guy’s name?”

“I’m working on it.”

“Oh really? And what does this working on it entail?” His dramatic use of air quotes is unnecessary, Shiro thinks.

“I’m… I’m going to find out tomorrow.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

Matt continues to prod. “And how do you plan to do that, exactly?”

“I’ll run into him tomorrow.”

Matt squints, like he knows something’s up. “And how do you know that?”

“Uh…”

“Wait, Shiro, oh my god, is this why you’ve been disappearing in the middle of the night?”

Oh. He didn’t know Matt noticed his late night rendezvous. Shiro winces. “Maybe?”

Matt jumps up from his spot on the floor to pace back and forth. “Oh my god, oh my god. I can’t believe you’ve been running out in the middle of the night, and now getting distracted during the greatest movie of all time,” he wildly gestures to the TV, where Return of the King is still playing, “for some secret boyfriend, and you didn’t even tell me.”

“It’s not like that, Matt. He’s not my boyfriend. And we’re not meeting up every night. We’ve only hung out three times.”

Only three times and he’s already feeling this way? Oh man, maybe he’s worse than he thought.

“Shiro, I love you, you know that. You can talk to me.” Matt, for all of his teasing, looks genuinely concerned. “You’ve been acting strange ever since Kerberos was cancelled. You’re never home, you’ve been sneaking out without telling anyone, Iverson said you blew off three meetings with him since he told us. Boyfriends aside, you can tell me what’s up.”

Matt is able to read Shiro like a book, and after years of friendship Shiro found out a few things of his own. And for all his escapades and goofs, Matt continues to be one of the most genuine people he’s ever met. So of course Shiro ends up spilling everything. His listlessness, his confusion, and the boy who prompted this conversation in the first place.

Matt listens, of course, is the supportive friend he’s always been. Until Shiro gets to the end, that is. Apparently he finds the whole whirlwind “love at first Denny’s meal’ thing hysterical. “I can’t believe you found love at a Denny’s. What kind of bad Hallmark movie is this.” Much to Shiro’s chagrin, Matt can’t stop snorting.

“Come on, Matt. It’s not that funny.”

“It kind of is,” he says, but contains his laughter before looking at Shiro and smiling. “Thanks for telling me though, Shiro. Now I can go back to enjoying Aragorn kicking ass and taking names without worrying about you going off and doing something stupid.”

Shiro smiles. He really couldn’t ask for a better roommate or friend. He turns his attention back to the movie. “Oh look, your favorite Gimli scene is coming up.”

“Oh my god, yes.”

*****

Four times. Four times in two weeks Shiro’s been to the Denny’s on the outskirts of town. That’s four times more in the past fourteen days than Shiro’s past four years at the Garrison. Shiro wouldn’t describe himself as a huge diner aficionado, has no affinity for the overall aesthetic or the taste of the food. Has no strong opinions about restaurants in general. And yet he’s been to this Denny’s four times in a month. This Denny’s with the creepy parking lot and flickering light and peeling paint and shady wait staff.

It’d be one thing if he’s just branching out. Trying new things. Distracting himself from his current predicament, from the Garrison, from Space itself. But he’s not. He’s already admitted to himself that it’s a particular set of blue eyes that draws him in, and he’s so far gone now that there’s no point in trying to convince himself otherwise. Might as well embrace it at this point, right?

He enters the diner prepared for another night of soft smiles and gentle laughter, but instead his heart plummets when the familiar head of dark hair isn’t sitting in his usual spot. Isn’t sitting anywhere at all.

The disappointment must be written across his face, because the first words out of Lotor’s mouth are, “He’s not here today, sorry to disappoint.”

“I’m not here for him.” Shiro knows the lie comes out weak, and it's clear Lotor doesn't buy it because he scoffs in Shiro’s face.

“Suit yourself. But usually if he’s not here by now, he doesn’t show up at all. I won’t be offended if you leave.”

Shiro considers that, for a moment. The diner isn’t totally empty, an older couple sitting at a booth towards the back of the restaurant, but he doesn’t particularly feel like staying if it means spending an hour with just Lotor and his steady glare.

But then again, maybe he could get some info out of him. Like a name, perhaps…

“He comes here a lot, yeah?”

Lotor nods. “Like I said, started a couple months ago. Just a month after the start of your semester, if I recall correctly.”

Shiro hums. “Do you know anything about him? Nothing personal or anything. A name, perhaps? He just looks familiar and I’m trying to place him...”

Lotor leans on the counter in front of him. “He hasn’t told me much about himself, but I’ve heard rumors. And knowing him, I’m sure at least a few of them are true.” He smirks. “Are you telling me you go to the Garrison University of Science and Technology and haven’t heard of Keith Kogane?”

Shiro’s blood freezes.

To Shiro, Keith Kogane is somewhat akin to a local cryptid.

“I heard Keith beat the simulation record on his first try.”

“A friend of a friend said she saw Keith dropkick someone behind the gas station.”

“My cousin said he knew Keith when he was little and that he could fly a plane when he was just two years old.”

“I hear Shiro’s his rival, that Keith came to the Garrison to take him down.”

So many rumors, so many stories, so many people saying “Looks like you’ve got some heavy competition, Shiro!” “How does it feel to no longer be the best there is?” “You’ve gotta meet this kid, Shiro. He’s incredible. Even better than you, no offense.”

Shiro was never offended. He didn’t join the Garrison to be hounded and concerned with numbers. All that mattered was space. All that mattered was Kerberos.

And for all this talk about Keith Kogane, Shiro has never once seen him. He’s started wondering if this so called pilot prodigy is even real.

But apparently he is. And apparently Shiro’s been meeting him at Denny’s over the past few weeks.

He’s reeling. But it makes sense, and he’s mentally kicking himself for not figuring it out sooner.

Keith Kogane. He met Keith Kogane at a Denny’s, of all places.

Matt is going to riot.

“Excuse me, but I’ve got to go.”

Lotor smirks as Shiro heads towards the door. “Why am I not surprised.”

*****

The revelation still leaves Shiro reeling days later. He’s not mad, or jealous, just surprised, and maybe, Shiro would admit, a smidge intimidated. Hearing only the wildest rumors about a person and nothing else would do that to you.

He considers stopping these late-night excursions, but only for a moment. Keith is like a drug and Denny’s his supplier. He can’t get enough, his late-night excursions becoming more and more frequent, even if Shiro is resigned to the possibility that Keith actually hates his guts like they say, that he’s been playing nice this whole time and Shiro was just too smitten to see it.

He hopes, prays, he’s wrong.

This time, before he enters through the door with the familiar smudges and chipped paint, he hesitates, takes a deep breath as he takes the plunge.

As usual, Lotor is leaning on the counter, speaking in low whispers to Keith, who sits across from him, while ignoring the two other customers that sit on a table at the opposite end of the dining area.

Keith’s all leather tonight, foregoing the usual orange jacket tied around his waist for an informal red number that Shiro knows isn’t up to the Garrison’s code. His hair is windswept and cheeks flushed, an empty milkshake glass grasped with two gloved hands.

He’s beautiful, and Shiro briefly wonders if he was sculpted by Michelangelo himself.

Lotor gestures in his direction, causing Keith to turn. The easy smile instantly soothes Shiro’s concern, even if only marginally.

Shiro clears his throat before saying, “I came by a few days ago and you weren’t here…”

“Couldn’t get enough of this place, huh?” Keith chuckles. “Yeah I was out celebrating with my roommates, they think I spend too much time here. I passed that midterm, by the way. Got an A. Thanks.”

Instead of saying “you’re welcome” like a typical person would, Shiro doesn’t say anything, just forces a smile and nods. The information he’s sitting on is eating away at him.

When Shiro doesn’t move from his spot at the door and Keith gets up from his own seat, Shiro can’t hold it in anymore. He blurts out, “I know who you are,” before he can stop himself.

Keith stops mid-step, blinking at him.

“Your Keith, Keith Kogane. The Junior piloting prodigy,” he adds.

Keith still doesn’t say anything, just stands there, biting his lip as Lotor looks on eagerly.

He ends up turning back to his seat, grabbing a bag on the floor before turning to Shiro again. He pulls something from the bag and tosses it to him; a motorcycle helmet.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to go for a ride with me, as a thanks for the help. I've seen you admire Red a couple times so I just figured...” He looks almost sheepish. “What do you say?”

Shiro is too surprised to say anything, but when Keith heads out the door, he follows.

“Have you ever been on a motorcycle before?” Keith calls back.

“Not that I remember…”

“That’s alright, we’ll go nice and slow for you.”

Shiro just stares at Keith sitting on the bike. The man effortlessly looks like he's posing for a photo shoot.

“You scared?”

He gulps, mouth dry, before he chuckles nervously. “A little, yeah.”

Looking at Shiro’s face, Keith’s expression immediately softens. “Hey, it’s okay. I won’t go very fast. I promise.” He smiles, warm, honest, kind. “You’ll be safe with me, Shiro. I’d never put you in danger.”

It’s not a surprise that Shiro believes him without a second thought. “Okay.” He takes the helmet from Keith’s outstretched hand, puts it on as he slides into position behind Keith.

Shiro puts the helmet over his head and climbs onto the bike after Keith.

“Hold on tight,” he whispers, and Shiro squeezes his arms around Keith’s waist. He’s warm, and the feeling of holding him like this… it feels nice.

“Alright, Red, let’s go.”

And they’re off.

Keith is right in saying he wouldn’t go fast. They keep they’re pace at a steady thirty miles per hour. But even so, Shiro didn’t anticipate going on a joyride on the back of a motorcycle in the middle of the night. Didn’t expect that to be added to his list of life experiences. But that’s exactly what he’s doing. And for the first time in a long time, Shiro feels alive. Truly alive. And it shocks him. Shakes his bones and his stomach and his mind.

He never realized he needed this feeling so badly, the adrenaline, the speed, everything he’s been missing since Kerberos training came to a halt.

“You can go faster, Keith.”

“Are you sure?” he shouts behind him.

“The speed limit’s 50 here. I think we’ll be okay.”

“If you say so. Let’s go, Red!”

They immediately begin to pick up speed, and at first Shiro regrets it, the feel of being a passenger on a motorcycle just dissimilar enough from piloting to warrant a nervous and shaking breath. He squeezes Keith harder, and the bike wavers off course for a split second before correcting itself.

Shiro keeps his hold, lets himself lean into it, takes a breath. He feels steady, he feels stable, he feels…

(When they take a sharp turn and Shiro clings to him, he wonders if Keith’s shiver is real or just his imagination.)

He feels good.

They ride for a while, Keith’s driving staying steady all the while, before he slows down and pulls off the pavement onto a dirt road. A small part of Shiro wonders where he’s taking him, wonders if he should be worried.

He isn’t.

They end up slowing down, stopping in an area where the only light is coming from the bike and the full moon above. There’s a small ledge overlooking a valley that extends for miles and miles before mountains rise up in the distance.

They both get off the bike, and Keith sits down on the ledge, pats the spot next to him, inviting Shiro to join.

He doesn’t hesitate to sit down beside him, their legs just barely touching.

There’s an extended moment of silence, but it’s nice, just like the other times he’s sat in silence with Keith. Except this time feels… different. More intimate, more weighted. It feels important, like what happens here can make or break him.

“I come here all the time. It’s become my thinking spot.”

“Yeah?”

Keith nods. “I found it years back, a little before my dad died and I still lived in the area. And then when I came back and saw it hadn’t changed, I just… kept coming back. Felt familiar, I guess.”

“It’s nice.”

“Yeah,” Keith hums. “It is.”

The silence continues.

“Was it Lotor?”

“What?”

“Was it Lotor who told you who I was?”

“Oh, yeah…”

Keith snorts. “Figures.”

“Are you…” Shiro doesn’t know how he was going to finish that sentence, but Keith just waves him off.

“No, it’s kind of funny. I just always thought you knew who I was already, that’s all. Caught me off guard.”

“Oh.”

Keith laughs at Shiro’s horror-stricken look. “It’s okay, Shiro. I promise I’m not offended. I keep a low profile for a reason. I’m not like you.”

Shiro flinches, and it’s Keith’s turn to look distraught. “I didn’t mean it like-”

Shiro holds up a hand. “No, I get it. It’s hard to not stick out when you’re the guy with the metal hand and face plastered all over campus.”

Keith bites his lip. “Yeah. But that’s not your fault.”

“I suppose not.”

They’re quiet, again, and Shiro can’t help but feel like he’s waiting for some sort of tension to break. He’s tempted to break the silence, to get whatever this is out in the open, but he has a feeling it’s time for Keith to guide the conversation.

“There’s a lot of rumors about the both of us, you know.”

Shiro nods. “I’m aware.”

“Does it- does it ever bother you?”

Shiro contemplates the question for a moment before answering. “Only if I let it.”

Keith bites his lip. “Are any of them true?”

That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it? “I’ll tell you if you tell me,” he says, and he can’t help but hold his breath.

“…Sounds fair.” He can just barely see Keith’s blue eyes in the moonlight. They remind him of the Milky Way, vast and curious and unexplored. “I’ll start; they say you hate me for stealing all your records. True or false?”

The answer comes without even thinking: “False.”

Shiro thinks he sees Keith’s shoulders relax, but that could just be a trick of the eyes. “And you?” Ever since Shiro realized who Keith was, the question has been plaguing his mind. “They say the same thing about you. True or false?”

Keith chuckles. “Honestly I don’t care about records. So, false. I’m not after your scores or anything.”

He wonders if his sigh of relief is obvious. “And what are you after, Keith?” Shiro knows there’s something. You don’t get Keith’s kind of spark without a flame to drive it forward.

Keith gestures to the sky, the distant mountains, the desert valley below them. “This. Everything. Space. Those vast places. It’s like,” he pauses, running a hand through his hair, “it’s like it calls to me, you know? Ever since I was a kid. And it didn’t help that my foster dad is the head of a space program.” He chuckles. “It’s funny how fate worked that one out.”

Out of every rumor, there’s never been a single one about his family, and Shiro can’t help but be interested. “What space program does he run?”

He’s expecting a simple answer, one of the dozen small businesses that’s popped up over the years as certain technology has become more available, but when Keith says “Marmora Institute of Astronomy and Exploration” he almost chokes.

“Kolivan is your foster dad?” Everyone and anyone even remotely interested in space exploration knows Kolivan’s name and the company he built from the ground up.

It’s fitting, that the next piloting prodigy is associated with them to some degree.

Keith smirks. “Heh, yeah. I was almost aged out of the system when he took me in. But,” he smiles, “even though we’ve only known each other a few years, he’s one of the best things to ever happen to me.”

Shiro already has a respect for the man, but knowing how much he means to Keith, how important he is, skyrockets Kolivan to Shiro’s list of top favorite people. “I’m glad you have him.”

Keith looks at him, eyes beaming. “Yeah.” He grins. “Me too.”

They sit in silence for a minute, Keith looking off into the distance, and Shiro thinks they’re about to head back before Keith clears his throat and speaks softy. “True or false: your arm was a gift from the Garrison.”

The question isn’t a surprise. This conversation was bound to happen eventually. But all the same, Shiro gulps, turns his eyes skyward. “That’s true. It was-“

He stops when he feels a squeeze, turning to find Keith’s hand on his shoulder. “We can talk about something else,” he says. It’s an invitation, an out, a way for Shiro to keep these pieces of himself hidden away, even for just a moment.

Looking into Keith’s eyes, Shiro finds he doesn’t want to.

He doesn’t talk about his accident much, preferring to keep the rumors at bay by not participating in the conversation at all, at least when he can. It’s one thing to make peace with losing a limb and the events that preceded it; it’s another to engage with the stares, the questions, the confused looks, the pity. It’s draining, so naturally Shiro does his best to avoid those sorts of intimate conversations, preferring to dole out encouragement and inspiration to those who need it, to focus on those around him rather than himself.

But talking with Keith is a lot like the most natural thing in the universe, like destiny, like fate, and it’s just as if everything is falling into place. Shiro tells Keith a lot, that night. He tells him about the crash, the pain, the dread, the overwhelming sense of loss he will always remember with stunning clarity, the victories and the losses in the years that followed.

He clenches his fists. "It was really hard, having everyone look at me like I was... like I was broken. And everyone told me I couldn't do certain things. I think that was the worst part, everyone acting like a piece of me was dead. They always told me to give up, pick a new hobby or a new dream, but I just couldn't do it. Space was it for me, always has been."

Keith's smile is reassuring. "And so here you are."

Shiro can't help but smile back. "Yeah, here I am."

It’s a lot, more than Shiro’s ever told anyone in a single sitting. And yet it feels like a weight lifts and the pressure relieved.

And it turns out that when Shiro gives, Keith gives in return. He’s close, their hands almost touching as Keith relays the death of his parents, the homes, the loneliness, the anger, the frustration that comes with constantly being told you’re not good enough.

"Losing my mom was..." Keith gulps. "We still don't know what happened to her. If she's dead, if she just ran. But I know she loved me. I can't really explain. I just know it. And my dad did too. But even though I knew those things... sometimes what you know and what you feel don't match up."

Shiro nods. He understands.

Keith sits, feet over the edge of the small cliff, kicking the air gently. "Most people just dismissed me. Teachers. Foster parents. They really didn't do anything to help stop my fears. But," he looks up at Shiro, eyes saying so much more than what's being said, "some people do."

The stars are beginning to fade with the coming dawn, and Shiro is intimately aware of how close their faces have gotten over the course of their conversation. He considers closing the gap, just for a moment, and he comes close to doing it. But Keith’s getting up, extending a hand, and Shiro takes it without question.

Keith ends up taking Shiro home, and as he stands at his apartment door, the sun just peaking over the horizon, he’s left with a swirling mix of confusion and contentment that he can’t seem to make sense of.

*****

The moment he walks through his apartment door, a dopey ass grin still plastered on his face, Matt is standing there, foot tapping.

“You look like you had fun.”

Shiro nods, like the idiot he is. “Yeah.”

“Denny’s Guy drop you off?”

Shiro nods. If he closes his eyes, he can pretend he still feels Keith against him, his arms wound around his waist. If Shiro imagines hard enough, he can recall the feeling of wind rushing around him, of the smell of leather and spices, of dust and rain, of-

“Shiro.”

“What?”

“Where’s Velma?”

Well fuck.

“Matt, I’m so so sorry, it’s still at Denny’s. I swear it’s still there and I didn’t lose it. Fuck. If you want I can get it now-”

Matt puts up a hand, silencing Shiro. “I’m not making you get the van. It’s the ass-crack of dawn and you just got home. I’m not that heartless. My dad was planning on picking me up for work anyway. Don’t worry about it.”

Shiro feels relieved, but the euphoria from minutes before is quickly squelched by guilt. “God, I’m- I’m so sorry Matt. I know that van’s your baby and I promised to cherish her like my own when you let me use her and-”

“And you abandoned her in a Denny’s parking lot. I know. But I said don’t worry about it, Shiro. It’s fine. It’s not like this town’s got a super-high crime rate. It’s too small for that. Velma will be fine.”

It’s true that the van will likely be fine and untouched by the time he drives it back tomorrow, but that doesn’t make Shiro feel any better about literally forgetting his best friend’s car.

“Do you at least still have the keys, or did those fall victim to your late night excursion too?”

There’s a brief flash of panic before Shiro pats all of his pockets and feels the familiar set of keys with the old Scooby-Doo keychain in his back pocket. “Yeah, still got ‘em.”

Matt sighs. “Well at least there’s that. Honestly I forgot how forgetful you are when you’re smitten.”

“Hey, I am not-”

“Do you want me to remind you of freshman year again or... “

Shiro shuts that down in an instant. “No.”

“That’s what I thought. Now at least tell me what happened that made you forget about Velma?” Matt plops on their sofa with a flourish and crosses his legs, expectant.

Shiro knows he’s teasing. God knows Shiro’s pulled the same crap when Matt showed interest in someone.

But that’s not what this was. It was just going out for a ride. On a motorcycle. With Keith.

And so what if Shiro thought he smelled good? So what if he loved seeing him laugh, loved seeing the way his eyes sparkled in the moonlight, love how his mouth quirks up in a barely there smile that somehow speaks volumes. So what if Shiro just met the man and his heart pounds whenever he sees him or hears his name in passing. So what?

“Oh my god you’re in love with him.”

“Matt!”

“Seriously Shiro, you should see yourself. I could literally tell you were thinking about him just now. Your entire face changed. Geez. And I thought that one time was bad…”

“This is different. It’s not like that.”

“Oh really? Then what’s it like, Shiro? Enlighten me.”

He opens his mouth to speak but shuts it before any words come out. What is getting to know Keith like? He’s never experienced something like this. Never just… connected with someone so easily. Even with Matt it took some time. It took years for them to get where they are. Not that Shiro finds it difficult to befriend people. If anything Shiro has to make sure he sets up boundaries and doesnt spread himself too thin socially. But hitting a groove with someone takes time and effort. It’s filled with ups and downs and learning curves that take time to really nail down.

And Shiro knows that if he and Keith are going to be… friends, then that’s going to happen with them too.

It just seems to be happening a lot quicker than usual.

“It’s not what you think. We’re just friends.”

Matt barks out a laugh. “If that’s the face you’re making at ‘just friends’ I’d love to see what you’d look like on your wedding day. You’ll probably choke on a bug because your mouth will be hanging open the whole time.”

Shiro sighs and drops down on the couch next to him. “Shut up… do I really look that bad?”

“Sorry to disappoint, but yeah, you kinda do.”

“Dammit.” He doesn’t need this, to have his heart distracted and his mind occupied with something that isn’t even something. What Shiro needs is to focus. He needs to graduate. To figure out his future, to get Matt’s van back, to-

“Hey,” Matt’s voice turns serious. “You’re allowed to like this guy, you know that, right? You’re allowed to be happy. I know that the Kerberos mission hit us both hard but if we let it hold us back we’re just going to be stuck. You’re allowed to enjoy this. Okay?”

Silence.

“Shiro…”

“I know, Matt. I know.” He takes a deep breath and let’s it out slowly. “And, and thanks. I think I really needed to hear that.”

“No problem, man. Now, are you going to tell me about this guy or do I have to have my sister go digging for me?”

Shiro chuckles and shrugs. “There’s not much to tell, Matt. He’s in the Fighter Pilot program. A junior. He loves motorcycles and the desert and space.” He hesitates before continuing. There’s no getting around the subject now. “His name’s Keith Kogane-”

“Wait wait wait. Hold up. You’re telling me that the guy you fell in love with instantly is The Keith Kogane? As in the Keith everyone swears up and down is your competition? The one that shattered your record on his first try? That Keith Kogane?”

“Um, yeah…”

“Well, you sure now how to pick ‘em, Shiro. I’ll give you that much.”

They both laugh, because the irony of the situation is something that Shiro is still marveling at, and for the first time since the Kerberos mission got cancelled, he no longer feels completely lost.

*****

It’s bound to happen someday, Shiro running into Keith on campus. God knows he’s thought about it ever since Shiro met the man, run every single scenario through his mind. Somehow, though, it seems appropriate that when the time does come, Shiro’s caught completely unaware and unprepared.

He’s running late. Matt says it’s because Shiro was up late at Denny’s again with Prince Charming. After such a late night, it feels like he’s running on his last cylinder, so when Shiro realizes he left a book on campus, he doesn’t make even the slightest effort to look presentable. Why would he, when he’s only planning on running to his TA office to pick up a book? The only downside is that Matt needed the van today, so Shiro has to run to campus on foot in the middle of a heatwave.

Of course this is when Keith spots him, just as Shiro ends his run, sweat pouring out of him like a waterfall from the exertion and heat. “Hey, Shiro. It’s good to see you.”

Shiro’s only in his sweats and a loose tank top with several coffee stains on it. His hair isn’t brushed, and he’s sure there’s cat hair all over him. The sweat keeps falling. And yet Keith, somehow, doesn’t even look like he notices. “Oh, uh, hey, Keith.” His face feels extraordinarily red, but again, Keith pays it no mind at all.

“Did you run here?”

Shiro pants. “Yeah. I needed uh…” He’s so caught off guard, he can barely remember what he came here for in the first place. “A book. Yeah, I left a book that I needed for a report.”

“Oh. Don’t you have a van, though? The temperature’s at a record high this week.” Keith frowns. “You really shouldn’t be running in this.”

Shiro keeps panting, hands on his knees. Keith puts a hand on his back and guides him to some shade. “That’s Matt’s van, actually.” He sucks in some more breath, and Keith hands him a water bottle. “I actually sold my car to that junkyard owner, Slav, earlier this year. Didn’t exactly think I’d be needing it.” Shiro chuckles, takes a swig of water. When he’s done Keith’s eyes snap up to meet his. “Guess I was wrong huh? I’ve tried getting it back but the man won’t budge.”

Keith bites his lip, hands still along Shiro’s sweat-soaked back. “How long ago did you try to get it back?”

“Almost as soon as I found out, honestly.”

“We should try again.”

“What?”

“You can’t keep relying on Matt’s van, clearly. And you can’t be out running in this heat. We should try to get your car back.”

“Wait, are you serious?”

Keith looks at him, confused. “Of course I am. Here.” He pulls out his phone. “Let’s meet up tomorrow. Figure out this car situation. Here’s my number.”

Out of all the ways Shiro imagined finally getting Keith’s cell number, this certainly isn’t it. “O- okay.”

Keith smiles. “Great! We can work out the details later today. I have to run to class, but don’t overwork yourself, okay?” His hand moves from his back to hover over Shiro’s shoulder for a moment before he pulls away.

“I won’t…”

“Good. Talk to you later?”

“Yeah, yeah of course.”

They end up working out the details via text later on, with Keith planning to meet Shiro at his apartment, after which they’ll go to Slav’s convince him that it’s in his best interest to return Shiro’s old car to him, and have lunch afterwards to celebrate or mourn the outcome, whichever is more appropriate.

Perfect. So I’ll pick you up at nine tomorrow, Keith’s text reads.

It’s not a date. It’s not. And yet, based on the butterflies in his stomach, he can’t help but think it just might be.

*****

“I can't believe you're going on a date with a guy you met at a Denny’s.”

Matt smirks at Shiro from his spot on the floor, chuckles when he grumbles and throws a crumpled up shirt at him. It isn't a date. Of course it isn't. It’s… it’s…

“It’s a date, Shiro. And even if it’s not, it's clearly obvious you want it to be. Which is the same thing, really.”

It isn't, but Shiro is too flustered to correct Matt on what does and does not constitute a real date.

It would be nice if it was a date though…

“See I told you.”

“I didn’t even say anything.”

“You were thinking it. I could tell. It’s called having Older Brother powers.”

“We’re not brothers and I’m older than you.”

“If it works on Katie, it can work on anyone.”

“That’s not how it wo-”

There are four soft raps on the door, and Shiro freezes.

Two more knocks, this one a little more hesitant.

“You gonna get that, buddy?”

“Right. Right.” In two long strides he makes it to the door and thrusts it open, revealing Keith on the other side. He’s wearing a red shirt and dark leather jacket, jeans, and boots. His hair is up in a makeshift ponytail, and Shiro didn’t realize necks and collarbones could be so attractive.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” Shiro squeaks.

“Do you always greet your guests without a shirt on or…?” Keith’s face is red but he looks like he’s holding in a laugh.

“Wha...” Shiro looks down.

When he realizes he forgot to put on a shirt and is only wearing his stained sweatpants from yesterday, he panics and shuts the door in Keith’s face before sprinting into the bedroom.

The urge to kick Matt who’s rolling on the floor of Shiro’s bedroom, laughing with tears in his eyes, is very, very strong. “I’m going to kill you later, you know that right.”

“Yeah, but it was worth it.”

Shiro ends up throwing on the closest thing to him, a blue and grey striped shirt and dark jeans.

He’s still pulling the jeans on when he goes back to the door to let Keith in.

“I’m so, so sorry about that.”

And Keith laughs. Not a light chuckle or grin. A full-out belly laugh.

Shiro decides that Matt is instantly forgiven.

Shiro finds himself laughing too, because even though he’s still mortified, sometimes the best way to get over something is just roll with the punches.

Eventually, the two of them do calm down, and Keith finally takes his first steps into the doorway.

Velveeta is there to greet him almost immediately, already demanding affection from the new stranger at the door.

“I didn’t know you had a cat.” Keith stoops down to scratch behind her ear.

“Already feeding into her ego, I see. Don’t worry, I get it. She does that to people.”

Keith chuckles before standing up and gesturing towards the fish tank. “And who’s that?”

“My goldfish, Cheddar. Not nearly as sociable as Velveeta but sometimes he lets out some bubbles so I think he likes me.”

“Don’t forget Gouda!” Matt shouts from the other room, and Shiro feels his face turn beet red.

Keith smirks. “Gouda?”

“Um, that would be my cactus.”

Keith smiles and Shiro’s stomach flip flops. “Heh. Adorable.” He walks around some more, stopping in front of the fish tank. “Are you telling me you name all your pets after cheeses?”

“...I like cheese?”

“Apparently.”

The comment isn’t malicious or biting or even teasing. Keith just accepts his strange quirks in stride. Amazing. “It’s cute. Reminds me of when we met.”

Oh.

Shiro’s heart thumps.

He’s so distracted after that he barely hears Matt shout “…How the hell does cheese remind you of when you met?” as he ushers Keith out the door.

“You ready?” Keith says gently from the front of the bike.

“Absolutely,” Shiro says, and they fly.

*****

Keith haggling with the guy who bought Shiro’s car isn’t something he ever expected to see, and Shiro has to admit that it is pretty funny to watch.

He has no idea what they’re saying, but it doesn’t look like Keith’s winning whatever argument they’re having. Shiro’s incredibly grateful that it’s Keith up there arguing with Slav instead of him, because at least Keith has a chance. It was a miracle Shiro was able to trade his car in to Slav at all, and he knows that any attempt to reverse that would be a disaster.

In the end, Keith returns to the bike, shoulders slumped.

“Told you he was tough.”

“Shut up.”

“Hey,” Shiro touches his shoulder. “Thanks for trying, I really do appreciate it, Keith.”

He shrugs. “It’s the least I could do, after everything you’ve done for me the past few weeks. I know it probably doesn’t seem like it, since we only just met, but… you really have, Shiro. I’m just sorry I couldn’t repay you.”

Shiro’s heart melts. “There’s nothing to repay. You’ve done more for me too, than you realize.” It’s true. Meeting Keith saved him in the best way possible.

By the time they end up leaving Slav’s (not before a couple more tries to convince him, at Keith’s insistence), it’s the afternoon, and Keith proposes getting something to eat.

Shiro’s mouth goes dry. “Yeah, that sounds great.”

(Not a date not a date not a date not a-)

They end up stopping at an ice cream stand.

“I uh, I remember you liked ice cream, so... “

A smile blossoms across Shiro’s face, and his insides feel warm. “Thanks, Keith. I really appreciate that.”

He ends up ordering a large mint chocolate chip cone, and Keith gets dutch chocolate. There’s a park nearby, so rather than sit, they walk.

Not a date not a date it’s not a date, Takashi, not a-

They talk about everything and nothing at all.

Favorite animal? Hippopotamus.

Favorite color? Purple.

Best cheese? Easy, mozzarella.

“You are obviously missing out on the amazing recipe that is a well made munster quesadilla.”

“Oh really? You’ll have to make it for me some time.”

Is Keith flirting? That’s definitely flirting, right? Dammit, he wishes Matt were here. He’d know.

They find themselves sitting on a bench, their ice cream long since finished, but neither of them move. Shiro’s content, here, doesn't want this afternoon to end.

“Tell me about Kerberos. How are you doing?”

Shiro startles, surprised by the line of questioning. “Oh, you know. As best I can be. It’s not so bad, really.” He hopes his smile doesn’t come off as a grimace.

Either way, Keith clearly isn’t buying it. His face goes soft, and he covers Shiro’s hand with his own. It feels warm, and he can’t help but melt at the touch. “Really?”

Shiro spills it all.

“Honestly?” He chuckles, but it’s more a way to hide his discomfort, the tears that are always at the precipice whenever he thinks about his predicament. “It sucks.” He stares at his hands. “I’ve wanted this for so long, you know? And it wasn’t just me that wanted it. It was my parents, too. My grandparents. Especially my grandmother. God, she wanted this for me so bad. Every step of the way she was there. And…” He takes in a shaky breath. “I know it’s out of my control, but…. sometimes it feels like I failed her, you know? Like I’ve failed myself too. And it just... “ For the first time since the news broke, Shiro lets a tear fall. “What hurts the most is thinking that I’ve let her down somehow.”

Keith listens, all his attention on him as Shiro spills his heart and soul, and somehow Shiro finds that one of his hands is in Keith’s, a thumb running over his palm. It feels comforting, reassuring, grounding, and Shiro is once again so incredibly grateful that Keith became a seamless source of comfort in his life.

Finally he stops this overflow, this outpouring of emotions he didn’t even really know he had, and it’s Keith’s turn to speak. He keeps Shiro’s hand in his as he looks out at the trees. “You know, I felt a lot like a failure while I was bounced around from home to home, like it was my fault no one wanted me. I was too closed off, too angry, too hot, too cold, too everything, too nothing. It was always something different. But it was always me.

“Sure, some families would give you the whole ‘it’s not you it’s me talk,’ but that was never real. You start to tell, after a while, who’s sincere and who isn’t. I could always tell.

“But Kolivan… he was different, you know? He never once blamed me. Never once made me feel that way. And through him I learned that your identity, your success or failure in life? It’s not tied down to things outside of your control. He taught me it’s about who you are as a person, as an individual. And, Shiro, I really like that individual. I really like… you. As a person. You’re kind and selfless and funny and you love space and none of this is your fault. You’re not a failure, Shiro, especially not to me. And I’m sure your grandmother would say the same. You’re brave, and bold, and determined. You- you’re a hero.”

“Kolivan sounds like a wise man,” Shiro whispers, unsure of what else to say, his face feeling hot and intimately close with Keith’s once again. This time though, he doesn’t imagine Keith leaning forward. It happens, and soon their noses are almost touching.

“Yeah,” he whispers in turn. His eyes flutter shut, lips part, and-

“Hey! Hey, Keith! It’s me, Lance! Is that Shiro with you? You have to introduce me!”

Dammit.

Keith pulls away with a start, face flushed red. His roommate Lance runs forward, grinning from ear to ear and entirely oblivious to what he’s interrupted.

Shiro’s not upset though. Lance is a nice enough guy, sweet and dorky and a perfect foil to Keith’s character. It’s strange, their friendship, but the two of them fall into banter that Shiro can’t help but love to watch. He soaks in this moment, happy to see Keith in his natural environment, carefree and happy.

The romantic moment may be gone, if it really was ever romantic in the first place, but Shiro will always take this, this joy in friendship, this laughter.

Keith’s smile reaches from ear to ear as Lance cracks another joke, warranting another laugh from Shiro.

It’s the most beautiful view around.

*****

“It went well, I take it?”

Shiro stops, the door still open, as Matt’s sister, Katie, sits patiently on the couch, hands folded on her lap.

“Um…”

“Answer the question, Shirogane.”

“Ah… yes?”

There’s something about her stare that’s… off-putting, if Shiro could pin a word to it. “Good.”

Shiro just stands there awkwardly, not really sure of what to make of Katie’s obvious judgement, when he hears someone yell from beyond the living room.

“Hey, Pidge, do you think if I make a Twitter thread about their love story, Denny’s will give me free meals for life?”

“It’s worth a shot!” she calls back to him.

Matt.

“It wasn’t a date, you dumbass,” Shiro yells just as his roommate walks out with a bowl of popcorn, a kernel pinging off of Shiro’s forehead.

“Suit yourself,” Matt says, shoving a fistful of popcorn into his mouth. “’Ut ish your losh i’ you ‘ose ‘im. ‘Ish Loto’ fe’ow ‘eems pretty cha’y wi’ ‘im.”

“What.”

“He said ‘It’s your loss if you lose him; this Lotor fellow seems pretty chatty with him.’”

Matt swallows and gives Katie a thumbs up. “Thanks, sis.”

“What? Him and Lotor? I dunno…” The thought makes Shiro feel itchy.

Matt shrugs. “I don’t know what to tell you, man. If you keep waiting around he’s not gonna be there. That’s all.”

Shiro hums. Matt has a point, he knows that, but…

But what?

He clears his throat. “Do you really think that he and Lotor might be…”

“How should I know? I’m not at these Denny’s dates.”

“…”

“Shiro…”

“…”

“Shiro I know what you’re thinking and the answer is no.”

“Please?”

“No.”

Katie, for her part, looks ecstatic at the idea. “You could get picture evidence for your Twitter thread.”

Matt yells. “I thought you were against this whole relationship! Keith’s one of your best friends, isn’t he?”

Oh, that explains the earlier stare, then. Katie crosses her arms. “I said I was upset that I hadn’t met the guy Keith’s been spending all of his time with. Now that I have it’s chill.”

“But we’ve met plenty of times…?”

She smirks. “Yeah, but this time I was vetting you.”

“Oh…” Shiro doesn’t really know what to make of that, so he turns his attention back to Matt. “Come on. Just this once?”

Matt sighs deeply, spills some popcorn on the floor dramatically. “...Fine, dammit. But you owe me. And I’m not paying for this excursion either.”

Shiro grins. "Thank you, Matt. It'll be fun, I promise.”

Finally, he’d get an outsider perspective on these Denny’s outings.

He can’t wait.

*****

In retrospect, Shiro probably should have filed this one away as a bad idea the moment it came to him. But in his defense, he didn’t expect Matt and Lotor to be making eyes at each other like this the whole time.

“Ten bucks says they both excuse themselves to make out in the bathroom,” he mutters under his breath.

Keith chuckles and nudges him with his shoulder. “I’ll raise you and say Lotor invites him to the kitchen to ‘make sure his order is correct.’”

“Gross.” Then, “really?”

Just then, Lotor leans over the counter, whispers something in Matt’s ear. His face turns bright red, but he gets up, follows Lotor as he walks through the swinging doors that lead to the kitchen.

Keith chuckles and smirks, shaking his head. “So predictable.”

Shiro looks at him, awe-struck. “How’d you guess that?”

“He likes to pretends he’s unpredictable, but he’s not. And I’ve had a chance to observe his behavior. Lotor and I go back, in spite of what he says. Zarkon and my foster dad were something like enemies.”

“How do you become enemies with a Denny’s mogul?”

“Differing business interests, if you can believe it. Zarkon wanted to expand his brand; ‘Denny’s In Space’ or something. Kolivan thought it was stupid and told it to his face. It went about as well as you can expect.”

Shiro laughs. “That’s either the dumbest or greatest idea I’ve ever heard. What I would’ve given to be a fly on the wall for that conversation.”

“I know, right? It happened barely a month after I was placed with him. It certainly created an interesting first impression. But while this conversation was going on Lotor would stop by a lot. We wouldn’t really talk but you know, I learned a thing or two about him.”

“Like the way he woos men into following him into the kitchen?”

“Exactly.”

They both laugh, full and happy and at peace, just enjoying each other’s steady presence, when Keith breaks the silence, hesitant. “Hey, I know the semester ends soon, but I work at the planetarium during the summers so I’ll be around.” He gulps. “And I know that you’re still looking for something to do, right? It turns out there’s still a position open, too. Lance’s girlfriend, Allura, is in charge of the hiring process. So I brought your name up to her and she says the position’s yours, if you want it.”

Shiro’s eyes widen. “Just like that?” No interview? Resume submission? Anything?

Keith shrugs. “Yeah, I mean, you’re kind of a legend around here. Allura said the planetarium would be happy to have you, even if it’s just for the summer.”

“Yeah,” Shiro smiles. “Yeah I’d like that.”

It’s a small gesture, a small step in the right direction, but Shiro’s so grateful for it.

Maybe his future isn’t so uncertain. In fact, it’s just beginning to look bright again.

It is easy to imagine with Keith there, after all.

*****

Twenty minutes and two slices of cherry pie later, Lotor and Matt stumble through the kitchen doors. Lotor straightens his apron as Matt pats down his clearly roughed-up hair.

Matt coughs. “Food looks great,” he says, sliding back into his seat.

Keith raises an eyebrow. “Yeah? Then where is it.”

“Oh, shit.” Lotor runs back into the kitchen doors, and yet another twenty minutes later he brings out the food they ordered almost an hour ago. “There you are.” A panini with fries for Shiro, a fried chicken sandwich for Matt, and a burger for Keith. It looks all thrown together at the last minute, but honestly Shiro’s too hungry to care.

He ends up stopping mid-meal though. He can’t help it that Keith’s so distracting.

Shiro doesn’t think a man should look so endearing chowing down on a burger with ketchup dribbling down his chin, but Shiro has also come to discover that he finds just about anything Keith does to be endearing.

That doesn’t mean anything though, right? Shiro isn’t... he isn’t...

Keith takes another bit into the burger, more juice and ketchup dripping onto his chin and falling to the plate below.

Shiro stares…

God I wish that were-

Lotor clears his throat, staring at him from across the bar and raising an eyebrow. “Do you need a glass of water, Shiro? You look a little flushed. Maybe our seasoned fries were a little too...spicy, for you?”

“Um…”

Lotor hands him a glass and mutters, “Just take it. At least saying our distinctly un-spicy fries made you red leaves you with more dignity than what I just witnessed.”

Lotor’s not the only one staring at him. Matt’s shaking his head, and Shiro just wants to crawl into a hole somewhere to die.

Matt just looks at him that night. “We are never doing that again.”

“You had fun, admit.”

Matt just stares.

“At least Lotor likes you.”

Matt blushes.

Bingo.

“You like him.” Shiro teases.

“Shut up, Shiro.”

“Come on, you can’t give me crap about Keith and not expect it in return.”

“Please, give me a break. You want to have something special with Keith. I just want to kiss Lotor’s stupid face again.”

Shiro smiles. “I’m happy for you, Matt.”

“...Thanks, Shiro.”

*****

If time seemed to be moving too fast a few months ago, now it seems to have stopped completely, Like Shiro has known Keith forever, like he’s always been there, inserting himself into Shiro’s life so completely it’s hard to imagine life without him in it. Life before Keith… what was that like again? It wasn’t bad, no. Shiro would never describe the life he’s lived as bad. But it was filled with anticipation, with waiting waiting waiting for something. Shiro always assumed that something was piloting, space, the stars, Kerberos.

Maybe it was Keith all along.

One thing Shiro does know is that ever since Keith came into his life, he no longer feels like he’s holding his breath.

Keith sits, legs folded with a book across his lap, squinting at the text although the sun has long since set and Shiro can only imagine the headache he’s forcing on himself by trying to read in this light.

“Keith, you should put the book down. You've been staring at the same page for the past ten minutes.”

“But Iverson’s class is killing me, Shiro. He has it out for me, I’m telling you. I can’t fail his final.”

“And you won’t. Because you’ve been preparing for it all week. Give your brain a break, Keith. It’ll be no good to you tomorrow if it’s too tired to think through the exam.”

Keith pauses before sighing and puts the book down next to him, scoots a little closer to Shiro. The urge to grab his hand is so strong, but Shiro resists and keeps his own folded in his lap instead. “I could say the same about you, you know. That essay you’ve been working on could probably be better finished with a fresh and well-rested pair of eyes, don’t you think?” He quirks an eyebrow up.

Keith has a point, as he usually does, and Shiro shuts his laptop, throwing them into complete darkness save for the moonlight and some streetlamps a couple yards away.

The night is a cool one, refreshing from the past couple days of intense heat they’ve had. Studying for finals at the small park by Shiro’s apartment had been Keith’s idea, eager to get out of the stifling and depressing atmosphere that finals week always brings on campus. Apparently Hunk and Lance were sucking the life out of the small dorm room as well as being a huge distraction, and when Keith texted him asking if he was up for some fresh air and a study session, Shiro had been more than happy to oblige.

One of Shiro’s study playlists is playing softly, and they both sit there in the dark, just breathing and letting their minds rest.

“You listen to a lot of old music, you know that?” Keith says eventually, his mouth quirked in a smirk, eyes teasing but never cruel, never harsh.

Shiro chuckles because it's true. “That would be my grandfather’s doing. He’d always let me pick out records to play when I came over. This song was always my favorite, actually.”

“Why’s that?” Keith tilts his head, curiosity obvious, but his voice is low and gentle, like he knows he’s asking something intimate. The space to not answer is there, as it always is between them. Keith is always like that. Never pushes, never pries.

But when it comes to Keith, Shiro finds it so easy to spill his soul. It feels like breathing.

“My grandmother sang it all the time, from what I remember. And then my grandfather would swoop in, grab her by the hand and they'd dance. All over the house. Just swaying and laughing. My grandfather’s a generally happy person. He’s always been that way. But I think that's the happiest I've ever seen him.”

They're quiet for a moment, the lyrics playing softly, and Shiro can’t help but mumble them softly, images of his grandparents flashing behind his eyes. But it’s really so, though you may not know. You’re my happiness...

“Dance with me.”

Shiro stops singing and shifts his gaze from the sky to look at Keith. His eyes are soft and kind and they look almost purple in the moonlight and Shiro is grabbing Keith’s hand before he can really process what’s happening.

They stand close, awkward for only a moment until Shiro finds one of his hands dropping down to rest along the small of Keith’s back, just above his hips. The other intertwines with Keith’s right hand, fingers curling around each other. There’s a slight tremor to him, like he’s vibrating with anticipation, with energy. Shiro can feel Keith’s breath on his chin. The air is charged, and Shiro knows that something between them has shifted.

A part of him whispers, the part of him that wants to reject change the moment it comes. There’s no going back from this.

Good, because he doesnt want to.

They move slowly and in tune with the beat of the song. It’s not quite the way his grandparents danced, but that came with decades of intimacy and trust and love. This thing with Keith, it’s new and filled with so much potential, and with time, there’s no telling what they’ll be capable of.

Besides, Shiro’s got time.

(Some tires squeal in the distance, but Shiro ignores the sound.)

He’s got to tell him.

(A car door slams.)

“Keith, I-“

“Shiro!”

(Matt comes running out of his van, shouting Shiro’s name, but he ignores his call.)

“I need to tell you something.”

“It’s about the Kerberos mission.”

(Shiro ignores.)

“I think I-.”

“It’s back on.”

Time, as it has a habit of doing, lurches back into motion.

*****

Matt fills them both in on the details back at the apartment. The three of them sit on the old grey sofa, Velveeta curled up comfortably on Keith’s lap. He petting her back, and Shiro can sense the ferocity in his stroke. He’s tense, shoulders stiff.

But then again, so is he.

“It’s not going to be as long as originally planned. Which is to be expected since they’re making last-minute adjustments, but it will still be long enough for us to collect what we need. And of course even then it’s technically more than enough time-“

“When do you go?” Keith’s voice cracks, and Shiro knows he’s trying to hide it. He’s failing.

Matt falters, hesitating before answering. “Three months, the end of the summer.”

“And then you’ll be gone for…?”

He hesitates again, and Shiro holds his breath. “It’s five months to get there and back, and we’ll be there for six months instead of the original eight, so… just short a year and a half.”

“Hm.”

Matt keeps talking, but the words all blur together. He should be happy. Hell, he should be ecstatic. And he is. In a way, anyway. Space has always been what he wanted. It still is. The idea of flying up up up into the atmosphere, of seeing the stars… his stomach leaps in anticipation at the very idea.

But right now all that keeps playing in his mind is the look of horror on Keith’s face when Matt ran up to them in the park.

“Well,” Keith says, scratches Velveeta behind the ear before looking up into Shiro’s eyes. His voice comes out hoarse, just barely a whisper, “I’m happy for you, Shiro, Matt.”

Shiro knows Keith means it, but there’s still something hidden, something that’s going unsaid. But can he blame him? Shiro’s got his own secrets, after all. Like how he can’t stop thinking about how he’s going to miss those eyes, the ones that drew him in the day they first met, the ones that contain their own constellations. Why go to space when he’s got his own galaxy, his own universe, right here at his fingertips?

And yet Shiro knows the answer, knows that he has to go, wants to go, more than anything. To deny this would be to deny himself, a piece of Shiro dying in the process.

It’s almost funny, though, how the prospect of letting Keith go feels a lot like dying, too.

*****

Three months go by in a blur.

It starts off peaceful, at first, Shiro and Keith making most of the time they have together. While Shiro doesn’t work at the planetarium like he’d planned long ago, he visits Keith there, spends late nights staring up the stars. They talk about everything and nothing while they do, pointing out what constellations Shiro will miss while he’s gone, what new ones he’ll discover. It’s during those moments that life feels like it’s on pause, that he’s not leaving the planet soon, not leaving his life behind him.

But in spite of these pauses and moments of stillness, there’s still this aura of inevitability. Shiro wishes he could say their relationship doesn’t change, doesn’t becomes more frantic in nature. But it does. There’s a desperation to it now, something that once felt so calm and lazy suddenly feeling like a ticking time bomb.

“Keep an eye on him,” Shiro asks Lotor one day, one of the last visits to Denny’s he’ll make before the launch. The request, though, is more for his own sake. Keith doesn’t need watching, he knows that. But there’s a comfort in thinking that Keith might still be around to be watched, might still be around to order soggy cheese fries in the middle of the night, to roll his eyes at Lotor’s sardonic comments.

Lotor doesn’t respond, just nods, and Shiro knows he understands. The man motions in Matt’s direction and mutters, “And him? You’ll keep him safe?”

“With my life.”

Lotor takes a sip of coffee, watches Matt and Keith argue over whether french fries dipped in milkshakes is a gift from God or the devil. “Good.”

Some Ella Fitzgerald tune plays in the background of the diner, and it reminds Shiro of study sessions in the park, slow dancing under the stars, an almost-kiss that might not have been an almost at all.

Keith must recognize the music too, because, even while he’s arguing, he catches Shiro’s eye and smiles sadly. There’s an unspoken conversation, here. A mutual understanding. This will always mean something. Will always be important, even years down the line. Somehow, this place, these people, have become Shiro’s home.

“You’ll always be welcome here.” It’s Lotor who says it, voice quiet but firm and true as the group gears up to leave.

Matt smiles, eyes glistening, and Shiro remembers he’s not the only one leaving people behind. “I know.”

It’s Matt who’s talking, but Keith’s eyes stay glued to him the whole time.

*****

Something still feels off, somehow. Still feels unfinished, and as much as Shiro tries to avoid this feeling, it keeps catching up to him. He knows what it is, that his feelings for Keith are eating away at him, undeclared and pounding at his heart, demanding an escape.

But to admit it to the man now... he can’t. Shiro might be sure of his own feelings, understands the truth like he understands his own heartbeat, but Keith? Shiro thinks he knows, but there are still so many unknowns that Shiro can’t bear to take the risk. His friendship with Keith is too important, to valuable. To lose that before the launch, to lose it at all, is too horrible to even comprehend.

No, he can’t say anything.

And yet it all comes to a head the day before his quarantine when Keith, who got his own key only a couple months ago, bursts into the apartment, and drops a set of keys onto Shiro’s lap.

“Meet me at the cliffs in an hour.”

“Why?”

“Please?”

Shiro face softens. “Of course I will.”

It’s not until he sets out to leave that he sees his old car sitting in the driveway.

*****

The sun still has a small ways to go before it sets across the desert when Shiro gets to their usual spot. Even from his car the area looks beautiful, the dust and sand almost glowing in its orange hue, the sky turning all sorts of blues and pinks and purples and throwing the mountains in the distance into all sorts of color. It’s a sight Shiro never really tires of, and he knows it’s one of the things he’s going to miss during his time in space. The fact he didn’t even know about this spot months ago feels like a distant dream, the times spent here feeling both like an eternity and all too short.

Shiro can make out Keith’s silhouette even from this distance. He’s sitting on their usual blanket, his legs dangling off the small cliff edge. It’s always worried him, when he does that, the long drop below making him anxious.

But now the sight of Keith sitting there, head tilted and legs kicking, just makes his head feel warm and his heart ache.

He’s going to miss this.

Shiro sits in the car for a minute, still baffled that he’s here, still scared of what’s about to come, knows that nothing will be the same once he steps out of this car. Because he has no idea what’s about to happen, does he? It’s clear that Keith planned this, that this is something he needed to do for whatever reason. Shiro just wishes he knew what it was.

He grips the steering wheel, turning the knuckles on his left hand pale, before stepping out of the car.

Keith doesn’t even turn his head when Shiro approaches, just keeps watching the sun fall, casting the entire landscape into a bright color palette.

Shiro says nothing and just sits down next to him, tucks his knees under his chin, and watches.

They stay that way for a while, until the sun has just hits the peak of the distant mountains, and still they sit in silence. With any other person, in any other circumstance, Shiro might have been anxious, might have found the silence deafening. But with Keith, he’s learned that these moments are important. The silent ones. The still ones. They mean a lot. And if Shiro can experience that one more time before he leaves tomorrow, well, then he’s glad he got to do it with Keith.

Eventually, the curiosity does get to him, and Shiro is the first to break the silence. “Why’d you ask me to come here, Keith?”

Keith’s mouth quirks up in that classic grin that drives Shiro nuts. “Does there have to be a reason?”

He doesn’t even try to hide his own smile. “Touché.”

Keith’s own smile is still on him when he pulls out his phone and speakers from his backpack. “Mm, well, maybe there was one reason.”

Music begins to fill the air, and Keith stands up, offering Shiro a hand.

“We never finished our dance.”

With Keith, every move is intentional, purposeful. He doesn’t just go through the motions of living. And Shiro supposes this is why he and Iverson butt heads so often. Iverson is about order and obedience without question. He’s almost the antithesis of Keith’s entire existence.

Shiro knows this is one of those instances, knows it deep in his bones, which is why he doesn’t hesitate to grab Keith’s hand and waist, to pull him close.

He immediately recognizes the song, knows its implications. He can see Keith mouthing the words, his just above a low murmur, “If you only knew how in love with you I have always been, hopin' you'd give in, if you only knew.”

His heart is hammering in his chest as he lets Keith pull him up and into his arms. Keith places his hands at Shiro’s waist, this time, pulls him close so there’s no space between them, and Shiro wonders if he can feel his heartbeat.

Shiro’s own hands gravitate upwards, one entangling itself in Keith’s hair and the other rubbing circles on his back as they move along to the melody.

It all feels like a dream, but if it is, Shiro doesn’t want to wake up.

They’re still dancing after the song stops and another begins. Neither of them make a move to stop or step away, and for that Shiro is grateful.

But he needs to know. The question has been eating away at him since Keith barged into his apartment that morning. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“You know, Keith.” He nods toward his old car. “Why the car?’

Keith sighs and tucks his head into Shiro’s shoulder, and for a minute Shiro thinks he’s avoiding the question before he hears a muffled voice. “Before I met you Shiro, I was… I wasn’t in a good place.”

Shiro wants to say, neither was I, but he chooses to listen instead. Keith needs to get this out and to interrupt feels wrong.

“I wasn’t in a good place and I don’t want to go back to that, ever. And. Getting you the car back, it. I just wanted to do one last thing for you, Shiro, and I guess it, it means that you have to come back, you know? That a piece of your life is still here so you have to come back to it, to me… I know it’s stupid, but I just- I needed you have it.”

Shiro’s heart melts. “That’s not stupid, Keith. Nothing you do is stupid.” The urge to kiss the top of his head is overwhelming, and just this once Shiro decides to give into what his heart has been screaming at him to do since Shiro realized the true extent of his feelings.

His hair feels soft against his lips and instantly Shiro wishes it’s something he’d done sooner, something he’d done every day for the past three months. But there’s no going back, no redoes. So he revels in this moment, holds it close to his heart. “I’ll always come back to you, Keith. Always. I’ll never give up on you.”

He can feel the width of Keith’s smile against his shoulder, but remains silent.

Eventually, the sun is setting, slowly vanishing from sight as stars and the moon begin to take its place, and the music stops playing altogether. Keith untangles himself from Shiro’s arms, and he immediately misses his warmth. He sits, and Shiro understands there’s more that Keith isn’t saying. He can see the tension in his shoulders and back in the way he hunches over. But he doesn’t press it, doesn’t expect an explanation. He’s long since accepted that Keith is a vault of secrets that can only be unlocked when they’re good and ready.

But of course Keith chooses to surprise him by breaking the silence anyway.

“Did you know I was in the running to go to Kerberos?”

He says it so nonchalantly, like it’s not news that would knock Shiro off his feet if he’d been standing. “I had no idea.”

Keith chuckles. “Yeah, well…” He runs his finger through the dirt. “I was rejected because I was too young, they only wanted recent grads.”

“Like me…” Shiro feels his heart fall to the pit of his stomach.

Keith chuckles again, “Yeah, like you.”

“Are you… are you mad at me?”

Keith whips his head up. “What? No! I could never be mad at you about something like that.” His eyes look desperate, and Shiro immediately feels guilty for even suggesting the notion. He stares at him, pleading. “Please, Shiro, you need to believe me. When I first heard, I was frustrated and confused and lost, but not at you. Never at you.” He gulps, cups Shiro’s cheek with his hand as his dark eyes search his face. “You believe me, right? I'm not mad. You did nothing for me to be mad about.”

Keith could have told him that the sky was green and Shiro would have believed him wholeheartedly in that moment. His voice comes out raspy and in a whisper. “I know, Keith. I believe you.”

The touch of Keith’s hand on his face leaves his cheek feeling warm and tingly, even after he lets go to fiddle with the hem of his shirt. Keith’s shoulders immediately slump in relief. “Good.” His voice, too, comes out low and soft. It reminds Shiro of honey in a hot mug of lavender tea.

But there's more, he can see it in Keith’s eyes, the burning, the hurt. And he wants to hear it all, wants to take that hurt and absorb it away until Keith no longer feels the need to hide himself from the world. “Tell me what happened,” Shiro finds himself saying, “all of it.”

Keith sighs. “My scores were high enough. From day one they were. I always knew that I was good, but I’ll admit that breaking your record on my first try it- I wasn’t trying to do that, but flying had been so thrilling. Doing well and being good at something just felt… it felt amazing. And that’s what pushed me those first two years. The thrill of flying. But then… I don’t know. What did I want to do with it? I had no desire to become the Garrison’s next Golden Boy-- no offense--”

Shiro laughs. “None taken.”

“--so I was just… I was trying to figure myself out. I thought Kerberos would help with that. But then I was denied and I was restless and I just wanted to go. It didn’t matter where. Just somewhere else. Somewhere different.” Keith draws in a shaky breath before continuing. “I almost dropped out, Shiro. I came so close. The night I met you I’d skipped three days worth of classes because I didn’t see the point in going. But… then we talked… and for the first time in a long time I felt… I felt like I shouldn’t run, shouldn’t give in and go. That maybe I could stick it out. That my love of flying is what could keep me here. That a hope of doing something, of going somewhere with it was possible.

“And now? Shiro, you help keep me going. I have something to work for, now. I know what I want.”

“And what’s that?” Shiro whispers.

“To go to space with you.”

The words are received like a wave of heat that shakes Shiro’s bones, and he lets out a soft gasp.

Keith is staring at him, eyes soft and warm and inviting and so, so kind. “I guess that’s why I’ve been so upset and distant lately. I’m not mad that you’re going. You wanted this so badly, and I’m so excited for you and for what you’re going to experience but…”

The distance between their lips closes significantly. Shiro can feel the heat of Keith’s breath on his face and he wants, but he stays frozen in place.

“I just wish I was going with you. Experiencing it with you. But instead I’m stuck here and I’m going to miss you so fucking much...”

Ever surprising him, it’s Keith that moves in first.

His lips are warm and taste like cherries.

Incredible.

But before Shiro can deepen it, before he can react at all, Keith pulls back, face showing so much emotion Shiro doesn’t know where to start.

“I- shit,” Keith whispers, runs a hand through his tousled hair. “I gotta go.” He scrambles to his feet and practically sprints to his bike.

“Wait, Keith!”

Either he ignores him or he didn’t hear, because Keith hops onto his bike and drives off, leaving Shiro in a cloud of dust and the taste of cherry lips still on his tongue.

*****

The day starts as a blur.

The Kerberos crew meets at four in the morning for pre-launch prep; medical check ups, run downs of every single emergency procedure, confirming that each electronic piece of equipment is active and ready for use.

All of it is important, and Shiro pays attention when he needs to, but the taste of cherry still lingers on his lips and Shiro finds himself distracted more than once throughout the three-hour process.

Is he going to come today?

The question’s been burning at the back of his mind since last night. Shiro doesn’t think he’d be able to stand not seeing him again before the launch, that it might just kill him. But no matter how badly he wants Keith to be there, Shiro can’t make him come. He could never force Keith to do something he didn’t want.

So instead he’s left wondering, and by the time the crew members are given the okay to say goodbye to their family members one last time, Shiro feels like he’s worn a hole through his uniform from anxiously tugging at the sleeves. He scans the small crowd for the familiar head of dark hair, but sees no trace of him.

“He’ll show up, Takashi, don’t you worry.”

His grandfather’s there, and for that he is eternally grateful. “I know. I know he will.” Shiro turns. “But thank you so much. For being here. It means a lot, Grandpa.”

“Mmm. You’re going to space. It would be an insult for me not to show up to see my grandson make history. Your grandmother would be so proud of you, Takashi. I hope you know that.”

Shiro sniffs, not meaning to cry but once they start they don’t stop. “I know Grandpa.”

He goes in for hug, and he hears the quiet shuffle of feet and a slight cough from behind him.

“Hey.” Keith sounds soft and timid, nothing like his usual confidence and surety.

His eyes are red.

“I’ll be over here,” his grandfather whispers before moving to talk with the Holts.

Shiro turns to Keith, his own voice hoarse. “Hey.”

He dangles a set of keys along with a piece of paper. “I got your note. Was it really necessary to gift me your car?”

It seemed like a good idea at the time, but Shiro still finds himself blushing, embarrassed. “I know you love your bike, but if you need to drive into the city at all I figured it would be more practical. And I’m not going to need it, for now anyway. I know you went through all that trouble with Slav to get it back so it seemed like a waste to just let it collect dust. Think- think of it as a loan.”

“A loan, huh?”

Shiro coughs. “Yeah.”

Keith looks at the keys, holds them close, before speaking. “How-“ his voice shakes, “how long is quarantine before you actually take off?”

“One week, just like when we land.”

“Hm…”

“Keith I-“

“I’m sorry about kissing you.”

Shiro isn’t expecting the declaration, but his response comes naturally. “I’m not.”

Keith’s eyes widen.

Filled with boldness, Shiro continues. “I don’t regret a single second of it Keith. I really need you to know that. I think I lov—”

Keith’s mouth smashes into his.

This kiss isn’t like the last one. It’s hungry and searching and desperate as Keith pulls on his jacket, bringing him closer. It’s exhilarating and breathtaking and incredible and Shiro leans into it, gives it his all. He drinks Keith in, cups his face, runs a hand through his hair. He wants to memorize this, to have it forever because he doesn’t know how long it will last.

Finally, after an eternity and yet not enough, they break apart, panting.

Shiro is the one to break the silence. “We have really bad timing, don’t we?”

Keith chuckles, but it sounds vacant, broken. “Yeah, I guess we do.”

He gulps, hates that he has to say it, but to ignore the truth would be cruel. “Keith, you know how I feel, but I’m going to gone for a long time. It’s unfair to you, to drop this like—”

“Takashi.” Shiro freezes as Keith gives him a small peck on the mouth. “It’s okay. I’ll be here when you get back, okay? I’ll always be here.”

Shiro runs a thumb across his cheek, memorizes his eyes, his nose, his lips.

“Okay.”

*****

Space is beautiful.

Shiro knew it would be. Always had. But nothing could prepare him for the reality of space. The expanse of it. The infinity. He wonders if he had to be out amongst the stars for an even longer period of time, would it drive him mad?

Earth is just a small dot in the distance, no bigger than his thumb nail.

Keith is still down there.

It’s weird. Shiro almost feels like he could reach over and pick up the world, hold it in his hands, carry it like Atlas. It looks so small and insignificant it seems impossible the entire world population could be on that tiny thumbnail-sized spot.

He tells Keith this, since their communication devices are still just barely in range. He tells Keith a lot of things while he can. He tells him about passing the moon, seeing the sun, watching an asteroid fly by. He tells him about Matt’s new obsession with dry shampoo, and about Dr. Holt’s never ending stories about how he and his wife met their freshman year at the Garrison.

He knows these things are insignificant, that they’re in space for a reason and it isn’t to document the trivialities. But Keith always responds when he can. Updates him on his life too. He learns that Lance proposed to Allura a week after the launch, that Lotor keeps asking about Matt, that Iverson is still on Keith’s case and that he’s been on edge with some of his best people gone.

Velveeta's doing good. She misses you though. Cheddar's got a new fish buddy too. Hope you don'[t mind. He looked lonely.

Shiro smiles at his communicator. What'd you name him?

Colby Jack. Also your grandfather says hi.

You hang out with my grandfather now?

What can I say? He wont' stop feeding me.  

Better than Lotor's cooking? right

Leagues. He misses Matt, by the way. Won't stop complaining. Then, I miss you.

Shiro swallows, fingers hovering over the pad. I love you. I miss you too Keith.

These things, they keep Shiro tethered. He knows he doesn’t have them for very long, will lose all access to these messages when the comms go out of range, but he writes every update down, just so he can have them when they stop coming. To remind himself of the stories from back home.

And still, he finds himself hungry, wanting, longing for the home of others. Not that Matt isn’t enough, or Dr. Holt. He adores them with every fiber of his being, and they are just as much his family as anyone else. But there’s something about sitting at home, Velveeta sleeping on his lap, Keith leaning on his shoulder, Matt accidentally creating a chemical fire in his room.

He loves space. It’s everything and more, and he already knows that he wants to come back, to experience this wonderment again. He always will feel that pull, that drive, that desire to stare at the infinite.

But there’s another infinite light years away. It’s in the shade and sparkle of his eyes and smile, and Shiro knows that for as long as he and Keith are separate he will always be pulled in two directions.

*****

They arrive back on earth a day early.

It’s not that they got the calculations wrong, it’s that Shiro is an amazing pilot with a high motivation to get back home as soon as possible.

The fact that, once they’re back in Earth’s communication range, Keith hasn’t responded to any of Shiro’s messages may or may not have played a part.

But even then, there’s the week of quarantine.

It’s the longest week of Shiro’s life.

He hates every moment of it. It feels like it’s killing him. They’re just out of reach, his parents, his grandfather, Keith, even now, back on earth.

“Where is he?” he asks, as if they can tell him.

But there’s no word. Nothing. His grandfather sent in a message to him once he landed, even if they couldn’t see each other face to face.

A piece of Shiro always knew this was a possibility, that Keith being there, waiting, wasn’t always a guarantee. So much has happened while Shiro’s been away. Lance and Allura have a wedding date set, Pidge moved in with Hunk, Lotor told Matt he bought out the Denny’s, Keith graduated. Any number of things could be keeping Keith away. He knows it was selfish of him to hope, to be greedy for his presence and attention.

But no one’s heard from him, seen him, knows where he is. And Shiro is worried sick.

The moment they let Shiro out, he’s off.

With his own car (supposedly, hopefully) still in Keith’s possession, Matt lets Shiro take Velma again. He doesn’t really know where he’s going, just that he needs to go, that being locked up in a quarantine facility was doing no favors for his mental health.

He needs Keith.

He needs Keith so of course driving aimlessly leads him to that familiar parking lot.

It’s so ironic Shiro has to laugh.

He almost leaves, almost says that it’s too much, to find himself where it all started. But there’s something almost poetic about it, and there’s no harm in stopping by to see if Lotor’s still working there, even after all this time.

He steps out of the van. It’s dusk, the sun just setting behind the mountains that frame Denny’s like a picture. It’s almost beautiful, in a way. Ethereal.

Shiro doesn’t know what he’s expecting when he walks through the door. Maybe he’s hoping to see that familiar head of black hair, that orange jacket tied around his waist.

But of course Keith’s not there. Why would he be?

Lotor, however, is.

“You just couldn’t stay away, could you. Not even space could hold you back.”

“It’s good to see you, Lotor.” Shiro smiles, ignoring his snarky look.

Lotor rolls his eyes but smiles. “If you were going to come here, you should have brought the pretty one.”

“I’ll tell Matt you missed him.”

He just rolls his eyes again, but his smile shifts into something a little more affectionate. “If you insist.”

“You haven’t seen him?”

Lotor frowns. It’s clear who he’s talking about. “Not for a while. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry, Shiro.”

His heart plummets to the pit of his stomach.

He’s gone, then.

It doesn’t feel real. The thought of facing the future without Keith… it…

It hurts.

Shiro sits at the counter, a bit dazed, a bit numb, and Lotor moves to give him some space.

He wonders what he’s up to.

Where did he go? Who is he with? What is he doing?

Is he happy?

Shiro hopes he is, wherever he’s gone. He hopes-

“Shiro.”

He turns.

Keith’s standing at the entrance, a new haircut and uniform but the same man he met so long ago. “I heard you were back. Matt told me you’d probably be here.”

That’s funny, because Shiro sure didn’t know that, but he’s so glad Matt was able to figure it out.

He moves from his seat, stunned, and takes a step forward. “They just released me from quarantine today.” His voice comes out just barely above a whisper, like he’s afraid Keith will blow away like a puff of smoke.

Keith mimics his step forward. “I know. You smell like disinfectant.”

“Where’ve you been?”

“Around.”

Shiro’s pulse pounds. “Around?”

“Around.”

He glances at the new uniform. “Marmora Institute, huh?”

Keith smirks, initiating a step this time. “Yeah. They took me in after I graduated. I’ve been in intensive training for the past few months.” He chuckles, looks around at the dining room. “It feels good to finally get out, even if it’s here. They don’t let you off base very often. It’s been good though. I… I’ve learned a lot.” He smiles, taking one more small step forward.

Shiro almost forgot that Keith graduated, moved on, started a life while he was up amongst the constellations. “That’s great, Keith. I’m so proud of you.” He smiles, but it feels strained.

“Thank you, Shiro, that means a lot.”

Shiro takes a step forward, but Keith stays in place. “You look good.”

“So do you.”

Shiro’s breath hitches. “Listen, I-“

“I’m leaving soon, Shiro.”

It’s not what Shiro’s expecting to hear, and it feels like a punch in the gut. “What? To where?”

He chuckles, scratches the back of his head. “Ironically enough, space. I leave in a month.”

Just a month? He just got back and now Keith’s only here for a month? It feels cruel, like a sick joke. “I’m,” he chokes, “I’m happy for you, Keith. Really. You’ll love it up there. It’s where you’re meant to be. I know it.” A question is burning on his tongue. “How long?”

Keith shrinks back into himself and Shiro knows he’s going to hate the answer. “It’s Marmora Institute, and you know they specialize in long term…”

“Keith please, how long?”

“Three years.”

Shiro holds back a sob. “I’m-“

Keith closes the distance between them, quick and desperate. He stands so close Shiro can feel his breath on his face. When did he get so tall? “Come with me.”

That is not the question Shiro’s expecting. “What do you mean?”

“They want you, Shiro.” Keith’s smiling wide, wider than Shiro’s ever seen it. “They want you to come to space with me.”

“I don’t understand…”

Keith cups Shiro’s face with his hand. “I waited, Shiro. I know I stayed busy. I told you I graduated, that Marmora hired me. So much has happened while you were away. But I waited. And I told Kolivan that the only one I wanted to fly with is you.

“The co-pilot spot is yours, if you want it, Shiro.”

It takes a minute, to process what Keith is saying. It feels too good to be true. Like a dream. “I can go to space with you?”

“Yes, if you want to. But only if it’s what you want, Shiro. Three years is a long time and you just got back and I don’t even know if this is something you wa-”

Shiro kisses him.

(Even after all this time, his lips still taste like cherries.)

He takes it slow, builds it up, puts a year and half worth of longing into it. He needs Keith to know that every answer to him will always be yes. Yes to space. Yes to flying. Yes to him. Always always always yes.

Keith leans into it, inputs his own hunger, and Shiro thinks his answer came across loud and clear.

They break apart because they have to, and because of Lotor’s obnoxious coughing. Truthfully, Shiro forgot he’s in public and that while the Denny’s is usually unoccupied during the wee hours of the night, lunch time tends to draw a slightly larger crowd, all of whom are staring now. Under normal circumstances, Shiro would be embarrassed, face beat red, but he’s too ecstatic right now, to overcome by the joy of the moment. He laughs. “It’s funny how we always end up meeting here, don’t you think?”

“Heh, you’re right.” Keith, still cupping his face, looks him in the eyes. “Maybe Denny’s will be our always.”

The delivery is completely stone faced and entirely and utterly Keith and Shiro realizes how completely fucked he is.

To Shiro, Keith Kogane is still somewhat akin to a local cryptid.

“I heard Keith Kogane has an eight-pack, that Keith Kogane is shredded.”

“I saw Keith Kogane beat someone up behind an Arby’s.”

“A friend of a friend told me she saw Keith Kogane jump off a small cliff once and land on all fours, like a cat.”

“They say Keith Kogane waited over a year and half so he could go to space with the guy he’s in love with.”

The stories get wilder and wilder with every iteration, and in the past Shiro would have passed them off as mere rumors and exaggeration.

He knows better now.

Keith is a whirlwind, a blink-and-you-miss-it experience. Indescribable and intense and full of a kind of life that Shiro hasn’t felt in a long time.

He’s amazing.

He loves this man.

He loves him with every fiber of his being, loves him so much it leaves an ache in his muscles.

He’s going to space with him.

“I love you,” he says, barely above a whisper as he pulls Keith into himself. He doesn’t even think Keith hears it, but that’s okay.

They’ve got time.