Chapter Text
It takes time. Shiro does as much as he can by himself, learning as he goes, and only calling in the professionals when he really has to. There are online tutorials, reference books he downloads to his datapad, and seemingly endless hours of tv shows dedicated to renovating and remodeling houses. Shiro teaches himself to repair kitchen cabinets, to fit wooden floorboards, to fix a leaking faucet. Part of him knows that Keith could help. That he would help. Teach Shiro everything he learnt keeping the desert shack habitable, but as much as he wants to share it with him, Shiro desperately wants to do this for him. For them. He snatches hours here and there when he’s not needed at the base; spending more time working on the house when Keith is away on a mission. It helps to stay busy. Being productive keeps his mind occupied. Keeps the the worry temporarily quiet. Slowly, so slowly, he builds something for Keith to come back to.
He’s talked about it with Keith before. What life after would be like. During nights spent stranded on cold planets, they passed the time taking imaginary tours of warm houses with open fires and plenty of blankets. Big kitchens and bigger back yards, blanketed by stars. Giving up flying would not be an option for either of them, but having somewhere on Earth to call home would.
They drove out to the shack during a stolen afternoon once the humanitarian work was well underway, just to see if it survived.
There was nothing left.
Keith was still and silent for too long. Shiro said his name, and he turned, buried his head in Shiro’s chest, and cried. Sometimes, grief could be contained until something seemingly inconsequential caused a fracture. Shiro held him until the sun set, whispering promises that he vowed to keep.
A few months later, they were out in the desert again, this time racing on their hoverbikes. Blowing off some steam after what felt like weeks of endless meetings and paperwork.
Keith was winning, but came to a stop before pulling down the bandana he wore to combat the dust. He stood still, staring over at the house not too far on the horizon. Shiro pulled up alongside him and did the same, looking first at the house, then back at Keith. He asked if he knew the people that may have lived there. Keith shook his head by way of an answer, and Shiro recognised that look. Saw the possibilities play out in the expressions on Keith’s face. He was never guarded when it was just them, never hid any of himself. Not anymore. Not for a long time.
Shiro did the work. He found the owner, left his details in case they ever thought of selling. To his surprise, he got a call, and a few months later, both the house and the surrounding fifty acres was theirs.
The drive out is about a half hour from the shack that Keith grew up in. That Shiro stood in front of as he watched his first sunrise after Keith found him.
He can’t explain why their house survived and Keith’s old one didn’t, but Shiro goes back to the site of Keith's old place alone, hoping to find something he could salvage, no matter how small. Something he could entwine into the boards of their new home. It’s a hopeless task. He knew it would be, but it was still worth making sure. He leans against the bonnet of the truck, crossing his ankles.
Shiro runs a hand through his hair, and thinks.
*****
It hasn’t escaped Shiro’s attention that since they have known each other, everywhere Keith lived has always been sparsely decorated. Just the essentials, aside from a few books and pairs of boots. Basics that are easy to transport at a moment’s notice. So Shiro listens. Catalogues what Keith misses about growing up in the desert when insomnia keeps them up and talking during the small hours. Notes the colors he gravitates towards. The trinkets he lingers over at markets, both here and whenever they are away. Shiro picks his way through his memories as he pores over color charts and samples, letting his heart guide him. He picks the shades that match them both. There’s one that Shiro recognises as being almost identical to an old shirt of his that Keith particularly favors, pale now and soft with wear, so he picks up a tin on his next visit to the hardware store.
Sometimes, Shiro worries that he is making too many decisions about their future. There are moments when the guilt gets him close to breaking point, and he nearly cracks. He wants to tell Keith all about it, about how he imagines their lives together. Lazy mornings with no interruptions. Watching sunsets and comet showers from their porch, Kosmo comfortable on the warm wooden slats. He never thought he would make it this far. Get what he has. He never wants to give it up. Shiro will never give Keith up.
He hopes that this will give Keith security. Reassure him about how much he wants his future to be with Keith, but he also doesn’t want to overstep any boundaries. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Keith to make his own decisions, or his own choices, or to stand up for what he wants. He trusts Keith with his life, has done many times over. He knows Keith will always be honest with him.
But he also knows that Keith would do anything for him. Anything to make him happy. The very last thing Shiro wants to do is to make Keith feel like he has no other options. That he is somehow bound by love or loyalty to want what Shiro wants.
If anything about Shiro’s decisions makes the light in Keith’s eyes die a little, he’ll fix it. The worst that can happen is that this house is not their home.
*****
The empty space in the house feels huge at the moment. Even between them, both Keith and Shiro struggled to furnish their quarters back at the base. Aside from a few personal possessions, everything else came with the accommodation. They need a couch, dining sets, pans, cutlery, towels, sheets, a bed, picture frames….it feels exciting and ridiculous at the same time. Material goods seem superfluous, almost an indulgence, but Shiro can’t hide his need to build a universe just for them between these walls.
He checks his watch; Keith will be here soon. Shiro makes his way outside, and only has to wait for a few minutes before the familiar sound of an engine gets gradually louder.
Shiro toes a line in the dirt as he waits for Keith. He can’t keep the smile from his face as he watches him park his bike next to Shiro’s. There’s there’s a mixture of exhilaration and curiosity on his face and Shiro takes his hand as they walk up three steps to the wraparound porch.
Nervous hope rises from his stomach with the possibility that he has made the right decision after all, yet he still fumbles anxiously with the keycard that opens the door. Keith reassuringly puts his hand on top of Shiro’s, not needing to say a word. Shiro immediately feels calmer. He takes a breath, laughing at himself, and this time the door opens easily.
There’s silence for a few moments. They feel like some of the longest of Shiro’s life.
“I don’t understand why we’re here.” Keith says, although Shiro can hear from the tone of his voice that he is figuring it out as he speaks.
Shiro hopes his instincts haven’t failed him.
“I bought it,” Shiro says quietly. “For us. If you want. If you like it. If you don’t, that’s fine too. Just….just take a look around with me and then you can decide, okay?”
It’s not a large property, but it’s big enough for the both of them plus Kosmo to be more than comfortable. He moves so that Keith is standing just before the doorway, and tries to imagine being here for the very first time, seeing things the same way Keith is seeing them.
The last of the daylight filters through the window on the left, casting the hallway in a warm shadow, and Shiro gives him a tour. He tries to do his best and stay as neutral as possible, so that Keith isn’t swayed by Shiro’s emotional attachment to the house he’s crafted for them, but he’s not sure he does such a great job. He can’t stop himself explaining how he flooded the bathroom upstairs when he put a nail through a water pipe. Before they even get to the kitchen, he’s already telling Keith about how helpful the owner of the hardware store is.
Downstairs is all open-plan, making the best of the space and light. The floors are all reclaimed sawn oak, as is the mantelpiece above the fireplace in the living room, which Keith carefully runs his hand over. Upstairs, in addition to the bathroom are two bedrooms. The walls throughout are white, ready for them to paint together, except for the master bedroom, which has one wall what the tin called faded lavender. Shiro studies him intently, capturing the exact moment Keith realises the significance. He guides Keith gently to the window to see the view. Wildflowers and cacti are dotted for miles, leading to where the mountains in the distance kiss the bruised sky.
“What do you think?” Shiro asks.
“It’s beautiful.”
It’s the first thing he’s said since they stepped over the threshold. He nodded a few times when Shiro was showing him around, although Shiro isn’t wholly sure whether it was to agree with what he was saying, or to let him know he was listening, but the small smile lighting Keith’s face is everything Shiro has ever wanted.
He wraps his arms around Keith’s waist and Keith leans back, relaxing against him as they watch the sunset.
Shiro is so sure this feels like home.
“Do you want to live here? With me?” he asks quietly.
It’s an agonizingly long moment until Keith turns his head and softly replies.
“Of course.”