Archive of Our Own

After the war, it takes exactly two years, three months, and nine days for Shiro to be bullied into taking an actual vacation.

“This is ridiculous,” Shiro says, leveling a glare at Veronica over his datapad when she presents him with the approved leave request that he did not submit himself.

“No, it’s overdue. And already approved so there’s no getting out of it.” She grins, a sharp little thing that has much more menace than what he’s ever seen from Lance.

“You can’t actually force me to take a vacation,” he tries. He looks closer at the forms approving the time off and sees his signature on them. “How?”

Veronica pushes her glasses up her nose. “Pidge agreed with me that you needed to take a break before you keel over from overworking.”

Shiro snorts. “She has no room to talk.”

“But she does have the ability to submit forms on your behalf,” Veronica points out.

“Not legally,” he mutters, rubbing his temples. Maybe he does need a vacation. But… “What do I even do with two weeks off?”

“No offense, sir, but I don’t actually want to know what you do in your personal time,” she says, leaning back in her chair. It’s been awhile since she told him such a blatant lie to his face. His life would be much simpler if Veronica wasn’t constantly meddling in it.

He sighs. “Okay, when does this vacation I’m apparently taking start?”

“Two days,” she informs him cheerfully. “Finish up on Friday and then get the hell out of here.” She waits a beat before tacking on a “sir.”

He frowns. “Is that enough time to get everything in order for me to be gone?”

She rolls her eyes. “Have a little faith. We will actually be fine without you hovering.”

“I don’t hover,” Shiro argues.

“Not usually, but you have been lately. Which is why you’re going on vacation far away from the Atlas and the paperwork you always try to fob off on me anyways.”

“I don’t-” he cuts off at her glare. “When did I stop being in charge?” he asks.

“It’s cute that you think you ever were,” Veronica shoots back, getting to her feet. “Don’t forget the meeting in an hour. Slav will be there.”

“Can my vacation start now?”

Veronica laughs as she leaves his office.

Two days later and he’s finishing up the last of his paperwork, dragging it out so he doesn’t have to go face his half-packed bag and two weeks with nothing but a possible trip to the beach planned.

He glances at the clock and winces when he realizes he’s been off-duty for longer than he realized. He’s surprised Veronica hasn’t showed up to chase him out yet. He signs off on the last form and powers down his datapad. He looks around the office and takes a deep breath before stepping out.

Shiro freezes as soon as he enters the hallway, faced with a completely unexpected but very, very welcome visitor leaning up against the wall and obviously waiting for him. A smile breaks across Shiro’s face. “Keith!”

“Hey Shiro,” he replies. His voice, always a smoky rasp, reverberates down Shiro’s spine, somehow even more potent now after months of only hearing it over staticky comms.

He takes a moment to just look at Keith, drinking in his presence. He's in tight, darkwash jeans and a new leather jacket. His hair is falling over his shoulder in a braid.

His smile is a lightning strike.

It's been too long since Shiro's seen him, especially in casual clothes and his heart starts doing backflips. He moves forward to give Keith a hug.

“Good timing,” Shiro says with a grin when he pulls back, hands still on Keith’s shoulders. “As of now, I’m officially on vacation.”

Keith raises an eyebrow. “As of an hour ago, actually.”

Shiro sputters, caught out. “How do you even know?”

He gestures at the bag at his feet - Shiro’s bag, now that he looks at it - and smirks. “I’m your ride.”

Shiro can feel his face flush as he desperately tries to not read that as an innuendo and generally fails.

“Pidge and Veronica are taking your time off very seriously,” Keith continues, oblivious to Shiro’s minor crisis. “Flying you out to Flurian III, where I’m sure Pidge has a full schedule of relaxation set up for you.”

Shiro makes a face. “This is literally kidnapping or mutiny, not taking leave,” he grumbles.

Keith shoulders Shiro’s bag and starts down the hallway. Shiro follows despite his complaints.

“Only kidnapping if you don’t want to fly with me,” Keith says over his shoulder, smirk coming back out. Shiro never gets tired of seeing it. “And I’ve got a new ship to show you. She’s fast .”

Shiro smiles, softer than what the situation calls for, and catches up to knock his shoulder against Keith’s. “Like you’d fly anything else.”

That draws a laugh out of Keith and Shiro watches people around them literally stop in their tracks at the sound, not used to seeing the former Leader of Voltron so relaxed. A flash of pride rushes over him at being the one who caused the laugh.

Keith tells him that he found and confiscated the work datapad he’d hidden away in his bag and had planned on using on his partially planned beach trip. Shiro stutters his way through several attempted excuses, Keith just laughing harder at each one.

They reach the hangar where Keith’s ship is parked and Shiro lets out a low whistle. “She’s gorgeous, Keith,” he says, running a hand over the shiny black exterior.

Keith preens like Shiro complimented him and it’s really not so far off the mark. His ship’s sleek and gorgeous and almost certainly more dangerous than she looks. Just like Keith. Since she’s Keith’s, Shiro also knows she goes breathtakingly fast and watching Keith at the controls of something like this is one of the absolute joys in Shiro’s life.

He follows Keith aboard and settles into the co-pilot’s seat, running his eyes over the controls. The ship is a work of art.

“Ready to go, Captain?” Keith asks, strapping into his seat.

Shiro isn’t sure if he wants to ban Keith from saying his title like that or beg him to say it again. “No titles on vacation, Commander,” he shoots back, deciding on the ban for now. It’s better for his sanity.

“I’m not on vacation,” Keith replies before starting up his ship and requesting clearance to take off.

The flight to Flurian III is smooth. Keith detours them through a nearby asteroid field, just to show Shiro what his ship can really do and they’re both breathless with laughter by the time Keith shoots out the other side of it. “The Scorpion ’s no Red but she’s the closest I’ve gotten in ages,” he says, patting the console fondly.

They chat and catch up on what’s happened in their lives since their last call, mostly work related stories for the both of them. They’re still half an hour out from Flurian III when a recorded message from Krolia comes through to the ship.

He hits play on it without getting up from the pilot’s seat, meaning Shiro has a front row seat for his reaction to Krolia telling him that Keith is off duty for the next two weeks, approved by both her and Kolivan, and to enjoy his vacation.

Keith curses lowly in a mix of English and Galran.

Shiro just laughs and laughs as Keith scowls at his communicator and makes three calls in a row to both Krolia and Kolivan. Neither of them answer.

Keith turns to look at him. “Mind me crashing your vacation? Mom says she packed me a bag.”

“I’m glad I’m not the only one who has to be forced into vacation,” Shiro admits, unable to resist ribbing him just a little. “And of course I don’t mind,” he continues, achingly honest. “I’ve missed spending time with you.”

Keith nods and he turns away to start entry procedures, but Shiro sees the slight flush on his cheeks. He attends to his co-pilot duties with a smile tinged with hope. Maybe two weeks with Keith is exactly what he needs.

With the ship safely docked for the duration, they each shoulder their respective bags and wander out into the capitol city of Flurian III. Keith has the name and location of the resort Pidge booked Shiro a room at and Shiro is more than willing to follow him. They speculate about what Pidge has scheduled for him and if Pidge actually knows what vacations are outside of scientific retreats as they walk through the sunsoaked streets towards the hotel, bumping shoulders and drinking in each other’s presence after so long apart.

Keith comes to a stop in front of a light yellow building with unobtrusive signage on it. “This is it,” he says.

Shiro tilts his head back to eye the tall building with large windows stretching up towards the sky. “Looks nice,” he says.

Keith snorts. “Looks like a building, come on.”

He tugs Shiro towards the doors and then comes to a stop as soon as they step inside. The resort lobby is opulent without being overwhelming - a quiet brand of luxury - and buzzes with quiet conversation.

“Looks even nicer in here,” Shiro says quietly, leaning towards Keith.

Keith nods, looking a little out of his depth for a second before taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders. “Bet Veronica picked it out,” he says. “Pidge doesn’t have this good of taste.”

Shiro laughs. “Don’t be mean.”

“I’m just saying she picks hotels based on their proximity to interesting phenomena or the conference she’s attending, not luxury.”

“You’re not wrong,” Shiro agrees. He spots the reception desk and he nudges Keith in that direction.

Shiro is quickly checked into his room but when Keith asks if there are any other rooms available, the light blue alien receptionist makes what Shiro thinks is an apologetic expression before explaining that a major festival is about to begin and most of the rooms in the city are booked for the duration.

Keith turns to Shiro and he can already read the apology on his face. Shiro panics, not wanting to lose out on the time with Keith before it can really get started. He refuses to let this newfound dream of having a vacation with the man he loves slip through his fingers like sand.

“You can stay with me,” he blurts out before Keith can say he’s leaving. “It’ll be fine.”

The receptionist nods as Keith just stares wide-eyed at Shiro. “Mr. Shirogane’s room is quite large,” they say. “Plenty of room for two.”

Keith locks eyes with Shiro, searching his face for something .

Shiro doesn’t know what he’s looking for but he’s not above using the puppy dog eyes Keith has been weak for since he was a truculent teenager.

“You sure you don’t mind?” he asks quietly, shifting his weight.

“Of course not,” Shiro assures. “Just means we get to spend more time together.”

Keith’s face eases and Shiro knows he’s won. “Might get tired of me,” he says, elbowing Shiro in the ribs.

“Never,” Shiro breathes out, the single word too honest here in public, here in the space life has put between the two of them.

Keith’s breath catches in his throat.

“That’s settled then,” the receptionist chirps, breaking the moment and making them jump. “Please put your hand here for room access.”

Keith does as directed and within moments he’s keyed into Shiro’s room.

The receptionist beams at them. “Happy blooming,” they say as Keith and Shiro turn to find the elevators.

Keith’s eyebrow arches and Shiro just shrugs. “Translator weirdness?” he offers.

They step into the elevator and watch the numbers creep up until they hit the twelfth floor. Shiro leads the way down the hallway to the room at the end. He presses his palm to the scanner and the door slides open.

He steps inside the room - large and luxurious and obviously designed for comfort - and his mouth goes dry as he realizes exactly what he’s signed them up for.

This is two weeks of being in Keith’s orbit at all times. Two weeks with the man he’s been secretly in love with for what feels like forever at this point. Two weeks that, for all that he was forced into this, he’s going to spend pretending that this is a romantic getaway he planned with Keith. Two weeks of innocent glances and touches that will set him on fire.

And there’s only one bed.

Shiro’s not going to survive.

Keith barely pauses. He brushes past Shiro, drops his bag in one of the armchairs off to the side and does a flying leap onto the bed, landing facedown in the plush comforter, just short of the pillows. He doesn’t even bounce with how soft the bed is.

Keith lets out a groan. Shiro twitches.

“I haven’t seen a real bed in like… a month,” he says, voice muffled. “Went to Earth to get you straight after my last mission debrief. Been sleeping on the foldaway cot on my ship.” He wiggles a little, sinking further into the bed. “This is incredible.”

Shiro takes a deep breath and moves towards the bed, depositing his own bag along the way. “Guess you’re claiming that side of the bed?” Casual. He can be casual about this.

Keith lifts his head to look at Shiro as he perches on the edge of the bed. “Not picky. This one was just closest.”

“Yours now,” Shiro says. He kicks off his shoes and stretches out on his side. Calm. Casual. He’s got this. Keith doesn’t need to know that his heart is pounding.

“Fine by me.” Keith shifts to tuck a pillow under his cheek, keeping his eyes on Shiro. There’s a small smile on his face and the image is devastating. “I like being closest to the door anyways.”

“Thought you weren’t picky,” Shiro teases.

Keith halfheartedly tries to swat him. “Shut up.”

Shiro laughs and settles into the bed, letting go of some of the tension. Exhaustion is starting to weigh down his limbs. “Is it bad that I’m already ready for a nap? I think it’s the middle of the day here. Maybe even morning.”

“Shiro. You literally just worked a full day plus overtime and then stayed awake with me for the four hours it took us to get here,” Keith says flatly. “Plus you’ve been working hard enough that you were literally forced to take this vacation.”

“You’re one to talk,” Shiro mutters, mutinous. “You’re literally in the same situation.”

“Yeah,” Keith agrees. “But I’m not the one questioning if it’s cool to go to sleep right now. We’re on vacation, Shiro. I’m pretty sure midday naps are almost a requirement.”

“Stop making sense.”

“Go get out of your damn uniform so we can start working on our sleep debt,” Keith orders, pushing at Shiro’s knee with his foot.

“That requires moving,” Shiro whines.

“Big baby.”

“Don’t see you getting up to change.” He sounds petulant, but it’s Keith and he can be whatever he wants around him without fear of judgment. He gets to be Shiro , not Atlas’ Captain, or the Garrison’s poster child, or even a paladin. It’s nice.

“I’m not in uniform,” Keith shoots back.

“You’re in jeans . That’s just as bad,” Shiro retorts, scandalized. “Your boots are still on.”

Keith makes a face at him. “Fine. We both get up and change clothes then sleep for like… twelve vargas.”

“Ambitious,” Shiro says. “I like it.”

Keith buries his face back in the pillow. “I don’t want to move.”

Shiro hauls himself back into a seated position. “Come on. Sooner we get changed, sooner we can sleep.”

“Ugh. Fine.” Keith peels himself off the bed and pads over to his bag, shedding his jacket as he walks.

Shiro watches him for a moment before grabbing a few things from his own bag and heading to the bathroom to change. He contemplates taking a quick shower, but the desire to sleep as soon as possible wins out.

He strips out of his uniform and quickly folds it, leaving it on the counter to deal with later. The fact that he doesn’t have to put the scratchy fabric back on for two weeks is exhilarating. He pulls on a pair of flannel pajama pants and a white tank top and heads back out into the main room.

His breath catches when he sees Keith. He’s settling his communicator on a charging port and is dressed only in a pair of black sweatpants that hang low on his hips. Shiro’s mouth goes dry as he drags his eyes across the muscled planes of Keith’s back, lingering on the braid that his right in the middle of it.

Shiro wants to wrap his hand around it and tug, watch the stretch of Keith’s throat before pressing kisses to the exposed skin. He really wants to slowly unravel the braid and see the waves of silky black hang around Keith’s shoulders, sink reverent fingers into it.

He swallows hard and considers turning around and walking straight back into the bathroom for a cold shower. Keith spots him before he can make a move, aiming a soft smile at him.

It’s devastating, this gentleness juxtaposed with the sculpted lines of his chest. Nevermind surviving the next two weeks, Shiro is pretty sure he’s going to expire in the next five minutes.

“Ready for bed?” Keith asks. His cheeks are pink and he carefully zips his bag closed.

Shiro just nods, not trusting his voice at the moment, and follows Keith to the piece of furniture he suspects will be his undoing.

He takes a moment to pull the heavy curtains closed, plunging the room into darkness. When he turns, Keith has already slipped under the covers. The sight tugs at his heart, at the deeply domestic fantasies that he pretends not to harbor.

He takes a deep breath and slips under the covers on his side of the bed.

“Did you turn off any alarms you have on your comm?” Keith asks, voice already starting to slur, sleep racing up on him now that he’s horizontal.

“Turned off the whole thing,” Shiro assures him. He settles on his side, facing Keith.

Keith turns his head to smile at him. “Good. Twelve vargas. We deserve it.”

“Damn right.”

They trade soft goodnights, despite it being midday local time, and Shiro listens to Keith’s breath go even and slow as he drifts off. The easy cadence and comforting warmth radiating from him pulls Shiro under in record time.

His sleep is dreamless for what feels like the first time in years.

Shiro wakes up slow. He’s warm and everything feels hazy and safe and easy. It’s nice, he thinks, waking up of his own accord without an alarm. He could stay here, sleep even more if he wanted.

It takes a full minute for his sleep-soaked brain to register that the nice warmth he’s been basking in isn’t coming from the heavy and soft blankets he’d fallen asleep under.

No, he’s half on top of the covers and plastered against Keith’s back, their legs hopelessly tangled. Shiro’s heart trips over itself when he realizes that his prosthetic fingers are entwined with Keith’s, their joined hands right over Keith’s heart.

He’s too awake to mistake this for a dream. Besides, his dreams are never this kind to him.

Almost certain Keith is still sleeping, Shiro nuzzles into his hair, the braid already mussed from sleep. He takes a deep breath, inhaling the fading scent of Keith’s shampoo.

He lingers there, wanting nothing more than than to steal a few more precious seconds of Keith in his arms. He tries not to think too much of what it would be like to wake like this all the time, of being able to wake Keith with kisses and caresses instead of trying to slip away unnoticed like a thief in the night.

He feels like a thief alright, his haul of priceless, blissful moments of holding Keith increasing by the second.

Shiro leaves a soft kiss nestled in Keith’s hair before pulling away and starting to try and disentangle himself without waking Keith.

Keith makes a sleepy noise of dissent when Shiro tries to take his hand back.

Shiro freezes entirely. “Keith?” He whispers, not wanting to wake him if he’s actually still asleep.

Keith tightens his grip on Shiro’s hand, pulling it tighter against his chest, unaware of how he was completely melting Shiro’s heart. “Not ready to get up,” he mumbles.

“You don’t have to.”

“No fun staying in bed if you’re not here,” he whines.

Keith’s voice is low and raspy and that combined with him saying he wants to stay cuddled up in bed with Shiro is a little life-ruining. Maybe more than a little.

“Guess I can stay a little longer,” Shiro says. If Keith is fine with this, then he honestly has no objections to staying exactly where he is.

“Good.” He’s quiet for a minute and Shiro thinks he’s fallen back asleep before his voice breaks the silence. “I’ve missed you, Shiro.”

Shiro presses his forehead to the crown of Keith’s head. “Missed you too. Feels like we never get to see each other these days.”

“Got two weeks now,” Keith says, “thanks to everyone’s meddling.”

“I’ll send them a few fruit baskets.”

“Don’t you dare. It’ll just encourage them.”

Shiro knocks his head lightly against Keith’s. “I didn’t say they would be good fruit baskets.”

Keith snorts. After a few more moments, he lets out a sigh. “I’m not going to be able to get back to sleep.”

“Sorry.”

“Not your fault.” He squeezes Shiro’s hand and then lets it go to flip over and face Shiro. “Just not used to getting to sleep for so long.” His eyes are still slightly soft with sleep, violet irises almost black in the darkened room.

“Think we managed our twelve vargas?” Shiro asks, more to keep himself from kissing him than out of curiosity.

“Mmm, probably not. Feels like a solid ten though. Not ready to move and check.”

“Receptionist said there was a festival of some sort about to start. We could go check that out when we get up,” Shiro says. His prosthetic fingers stray to the end of Keith’s braid, toying with it. He thinks it should be awkward, cuddling in bed with his best friend, absently playing with his hair and planning what to do first on their joint vacation.

It would be with anyone else.

But Keith props his head up on his hand and smiles down at him and it’s easy . “Sounds like a plan,” he says. “Alien fair food is always interesting.”

“As long as there are weird fried things for me to try, I’ll be happy.” He tugs on Keith’s braid. “Almost anything’s good fried.”

“You say that, but you haven’t been forced to eat on Brolt. Fried dirt, Shiro.”

Shiro laughs at the offended look on Keith’s face. The way he scrunches up his nose is unfairly cute. “I’d probably still eat it.”

“Human garbage can,” Keith teases.

“Had to be to survive the Garrison mess.”

They linger in bed for another few minutes before they reach their limit of staying still and idle. A quick check behind the curtains tells them that the sun is just starting its descent. Shiro can see what looks like a bustling market set up within walking distance and they agree to check it out.

Once they’re both showered and dressed they head out, dodging people in the now crowded lobby.

“Festival must start soon,” Keith mutters close to Shiro’s ear, hand resting on his bicep as he tries to stay close.

They find the market Shiro spotted with ease, following the noise and the stream of people.

Keith doesn’t really move away when they’re out in open air, their shoulders almost pressed together as they walk, hands brushing against each other.

Shiro feels like he’s walking on air. Keith is smiling and teasing him and it feels right.

It feels like a date.

They wander through the stalls, occasionally stopping to sample food and eye the variety of goods for sale. Keith keeps trying to find the worst fried things for Shiro to try, presenting each one with a shiteating grin.

So far he’s eaten at at least marginally enjoyed everything, more because it makes Keith laugh than because of the actual taste of the food.

“Hunk would actually cry if he saw you eating this shit,” Keith says.

“Hey, if Hunk’s cooking was an option, I would pick that every time,” Shiro protests. “And I know he likes weird fair food too.”

“The good kind of weird fair food, not the garbage you’re eating.”

Shiro gasps as dramatically as he can, slapping a hand over his heart. “Keith! Are you saying you’ve been buying me garbage? The betrayal !”

Keith laughs, full-bellied and loud, and elbows Shiro in the ribs. “You knew that, idiot. You’re the one who ate it all anyways!”

Shiro’s grin is entirely unapologetic. Here with Keith on a new-to-them alien planet and on what is both of theirs first vacation since the war, Shiro’s shoulders are tension-free for the first time in what feels like actual years.

It really, truly feels like a date, like a dream come true. Shiro really hopes Keith feels it too.

They start to think about heading back to their room as darkness settles over the market, a couple hours into their wandering.

“It’s weird not having anywhere to be,” Shiro admits as they stroll past some stalls selling jewelry. They’re half looking for a souvenir for Allura amongst the sparkly baubles. “Not sure what to do with all this time now that I have it.”

“I’m still betting that Pidge has set up a suggested schedule of events for you,” Keith says, putting down a carved wooden ring and nodding at the stall owner before they move on. “Probably made you spa reservations.”

Shiro laughs. “I would use them! You have to come with me.” He grins down at Keith and knocks his shoulder against his. “Spa day! That’s a vacation-y thing to do.”

“You sound like you’ve solved a riddle,” Keith teases. “ What do normal people do on vacation? ”

“Literally neither of us know the answer.”

“True,” Keith concedes easily.

“We’re finding a spa and making this happen. I haven’t been since…” he pauses, trying to remember the last time he made time to indulge, “sometime before Kerberos.”

“I’ve never been,” Keith says with a shrug. They’ve moved onto the next stall and Keith is looking at necklace with a shimmering purple pendant. “Wonder if my mom would like this,” he wonders aloud. “Her nameday is coming up.”

“Does she wear jewelry?”

“Sometimes. When she’s not in uniform, which isn’t all that often,” Keith muses.

“It’s pretty,” Shiro offers. He doesn’t feel qualified to have any further opinion on the jewelry or Krolia’s potential reaction to it.

Keith bites his lip and puts it down. “Think I’ll keep looking.”

“So,” Shiro says as they slip into the stream of people walking through the market, “never been to a spa?”

“Lance keeps trying to set something up, but our schedules haven’t lined up for it.” He rolls his eyes. “You’d think it was a personal insult that I haven’t been by the way he goes on about it.”

“We’re making it happen,” Shiro says decidedly. “You deserve to be pampered.”

Keith ducks his head and mumbles his agreement. Shiro still spies the red on the cheeks, barely visible in the lamplight of the market. He grins and tugs him over to a stall across the way selling little candies. Sugar sounds like the perfect addition to this evening.

“You two here for the festival?” the shopkeeper asks, folding her hands in her lap, pink skin clashing with her lime green tunic.

“Didn’t even know we were going to be here before today,” Shiro replies, looking up from the sweets to give her a smile. “Happy accident.”

She laughs. “You two will fit right in, don’t worry.”

“What’s the festival for?” Keith asks. “Haven’t had a chance to look it up yet.”

“Technically, the first blooming of the yinian trees,” she explains, smirk going a bit mischievous, “but in practice, it’s a lovers festival.”

Shiro feels his cheeks catch fire and his Altean fist closes around one of the candies, crushing it to dust.

He looks between his hand and the amused look on the shopkeeper’s face and desperately tries to get his face under control.

He takes a deep breath and then apologizes profusely to the shopkeeper. He buys two bags of candy with burning cheeks, stealing glances at Keith out of the corner of his eye. His cheeks are pink too and he’s fiddling with the end of his braid like he needs something to do with his hands.

Purchase complete, the vendor waggles her eyebrows at them and tells them to have fun.

It doesn’t help either of their blushes.

They walk away with more candy than even Shiro’s sweet tooth needs and a tension sitting between them that wasn’t there before.

“So, Shiro says after a minute, “guess we know why there was a whole row of vendors selling sex toys now.”

Keith snorts. “And why that row was the most crowded in the market. People stocking up before the festival starts.”

Shiro agrees and the tension eases into something more familiar as he thinks of what it would be like to eagerly browsing those stalls with Keith in preparation for this lovers festival, whatever it entails. He’s far too accustomed to the sizzle of sexual tension when he’s around Keith, even if it’s disappointingly one-sided.

“You know our friends absolutely planned this, right?” Keith asks, hands jammed in his pockets and shoulders hunched up. He’s looking anywhere but at Shiro, cheeks still edging towards red. “There’s no way Pidge didn’t know about the festival.”

“Veronica is probably the one who found it,” Shiro guesses. He swallows hard. They orchestrated him ending up on this vacation, at this festival, specifically with Keith. He wonders how many people are involved in this set-up. He lets out a shaky exhale. Has he been so obvious about his feelings for his best friend that they’d do this?

He knows they probably mean well, and Veronica has never seen a situation she didn’t want to meddle in, but a sick feeling rises as he considers that this whole thing might make Keith uncomfortable, might make him want to leave. Keith may have been ordered to take leave during these same two weeks, but he definitely hadn’t signed up to attend a lovers festival with Shiro. No matter how much Shiro wishes otherwise, Keith doesn’t see him like that.

“You still okay staying here with me?” Shiro asks quietly.

Keith finally looks at him again, unhunching his shoulders. “Of course, Shiro.” He puts on a smile and it’s barely strained. “Where else would I want to be?”

Shiro’s heart flutters a little at that answer. He can think of a dozen options immediately but bites his tongue before any of them escape or he does something stupid like remind Keith that he has a ship and can go spend his vacation anywhere. He selfishly wants Keith here with him and won’t remind him of how easily he could leave.

“Besides,” Keith continues, grin melting into something easy, “you’re not getting out of our spa plans that easy.

“We’ll make the reservations when we get back to our room,” Shiro promises. Referring to the room as theirs sends his head spinning. He knows the warmth in his heart is spilling out onto his face and he lets it, smile soft and smitten.

Keith mirrors it before they set off back towards the resort, both of them settling back into the ease of earlier in the evening.

When they get back to the hotel, Shiro stops to ask the concierge about spas in the area. The smiling alien promises to send several recommendations to the console in their room. He wishes him “Happy Blooming,” like the receptionist had earlier in the day, but this time Shiro blushes, knowing it’s not translator weirdness, but related to the festival.

“That was fast. Got the info?” Keith asks when Shiro joins him by the elevator bay.

“Being sent to the console that’s apparently in our room.”

“Built into the desk,” Keith tells him, answering the unspoken question. “Tap the surface twice to wake it up.”

“Explains why I didn’t see it,” Shiro says. “Didn’t think I was that exhausted earlier.”

Keith elbows him as the elevator arrives. “You were.”

“Shut up.” Shiro follows Keith into the elevator, watching him press the right button and then lean back against the handrail. “Going to check if Pidge actually sent me a vacation itinerary, then figure out which spa we’re hitting tomorrow.”

“Think they’ll be able to fit us in that fast with festival traffic?”

The elevator arrives at their floor with a cheerful ding and they step out and walk down the hall towards their room.

“Bet if I tell them who you or I am, they’ll find a slot for us.”

“Abuse of power,” Keith teases. He knocks his hip against Shiro’s as Shiro palms the room lock.

“All in the name of relaxation,” Shiro says airily.

He loves the excess of casual contact Keith initiates with him, treasures it especially after the earlier bout of awkwardness. He knows Keith isn’t like this with anyone else and he just feels so damn lucky that Keith is comfortable with him, that he’s his best friend. Shiro may be hopelessly in love with him, but Keith’s friendship is precious to him above all.

Keith grins and pushes past him to get into the room. He makes a beeline for the bed and flops down on his back. “Definitely going to be able to get another few vargas of sleep tonight.”

“You deserve it.”

Keith hums. “Would it be weird to ask the hotel where I can buy one of these mattresses?”

Shiro laughs as he takes off his shoes and stows them in the closet. “They’d probably tell you. Might not even need to bribe them if you sound all blissed out like that.”

Keith cracks his eyes open to glare at him. “Shut it, Shirogane. I will throw a pillow at you.”

“Whatever will I do,” he deadpans.

A pillow hits him in the face a second later, startling another laugh out of him. “Brat.”

Keith’s smile is wholly unapologetic.

Shiro shakes his head and lobs the pillow back to the bad. Keith tucks it under his head. Shiro grabs his datapad from the charger and arches an eyebrow at Keith, who nods. He snags Keith’s datapad and tosses it to him before sitting down at the desk.

He opens his personal comms and finds a message from Pidge at the top. Surprisingly, it is not an itinerary, just a message to have fun and a warning that she has barred his access to any Garrison or Coalition work. There are two attachments.

The first is a meme of Matt. Shiro snorts quietly and saves it with the other ones Pidge has created.

The second is a spreadsheet of local attractions and things to do, sortable by a variety of factors and color coded to a terrifying degree.

Shiro is scrolling through the spreadsheet with trepidation when Keith lets out a sigh.

“I don’t even want to know how Pidge managed to block my access to the Blades systems,” he says.

Shiro looks over his shoulder, incredulity painted on his face. “Were you trying to work?”

“I just wanted to make sure things were in order!” Keith defends. “I didn’t know I was going on leave.”

Shiro bites his lip and decides not to call him a workaholic. Pot, kettle, etc.

“No itinerary,” he informs Keith, instead. “She sent me a spreadsheet, a thinly veiled threat to not work, and a meme.”

“Sounds about right.” Keith laughs. “Is it the Matt meme?”

“You get it too?”

“Yup, saved with the rest.”

“Do we all have stashes of Pidge’s Matt memes?” Shiro asks, amused.

Keith grins, all sharp-edged. “Absolutely. Matt is never going to be free of them.”

“It’s what he deserves,” Shiro says.

Keith laughs and Shiro turns back to the desk, tapping it to wake up the console. He quickly scans the recommendations the concierge sent, checking it against Pidge’s spreadsheet.

The digital brochure for Away catches his eyes. The spreadsheet gives it high marks for privacy, luxury, and “ambiance.” That last category is paired with a heart emoji that Shiro is trying hard to ignore.

He browses through the day packages on their site and keeps coming back to the couples package. They’re offering a deal leading up to the festival, deeply discounting the deluxe couples package as a limited time promotion.

Shiro considers the options. The couples deal is significantly cheaper than getting two deluxe individual packages, though he wouldn’t mind shelling out money for Keith to get pampered. It’s his first spa experience after all. Shiro wants it to be good.

The fact that going in as a couple means that they’d get to spend the day together is another big plus for that option.

There’s an opening tomorrow for a full day, deluxe couples spa visit. He bites his bottom lip and hovers over the confirm button. If Keith asks, he’ll just tell him about the deal, tell him that he wanted to spend this time with him and guide him through the spa experience.

He won’t tell him that maybe he just wants to pretend for a little bit. The woman in the market assumed they were together and she certainly isn’t the first to do so over the years.

Shiro stopped correcting people he didn’t actively work with ages ago.

He wants this day, this chance to imagine what could be if things were different.

He wants and he’s going to be a bit selfish this time. It’s what vacation is for, right?

Shiro his confirm. Couples spa date - not really a date , he reminds himself - booked.

Once he receives confirmation of the reservation, Shiro sets an alarm on his comm and then puts all the electronics to sleep. He nips into the bathroom to change into pajamas and then joins Keith in bed, mumbling that they have a reservation in the morning.

Keith doesn’t ask questions about it, just gets up to change clothes himself. Shiro is already almost asleep when he slips back into bed and whispers goodnight.

They wake up tangled in each other again when Shiro’s alarm goes off.

“No more plans involving alarms,” Keith grumbles. “Alarms should be banned on vacation.”

“Noted,” Shiro says, huffing out a laugh. He presses a light kiss to the top of Keith’s head before getting out of bed to silence the device.

It’s not until the room is blessedly quiet that he realizes what he’s done. He chances a look over his shoulder and finds Keith getting up and walking towards his bag like nothing happened, though his cheeks are pink.

Just gonna pretend that didn’t happen , Shiro thinks as he scrambles for something else to say. His eyes land on Keith’s travel bag. “You gonna live out of your suitcase this whole time?” Shiro’s clothes are all neatly put away in the drawers and closet already. It’s not his smoothest transition, but it’ll do.

“Probably. Used to it,” Keith says with a shrug, rooting around in his bag. “What do we wear to a spa? Is it fancy?”

“Little bit fancy,” Shiro admits. “But they’ll make us change into robes and all when we get there anyways so… dress comfy.”

“Sweatpants fine?”

“If they’re not, we’ll both get scolded.” Satisfied that they’ve moved past his slip, Shiro grabs his own sweats and tshirt and nabs the bathroom first.

They walk into Away fifteen minutes before their reservation slot, right on Shiro’s schedule.

“This is more than a little fancy,” Keith hisses in his ear as they take in the lobby. It’s all soothing colors and bubbling water, accented in muted golds, and the picture of luxury.

“Best reviews,” Shiro says. He eyes the chipper looking receptionist and weighs the likelihood that they’ll make a comment about them being a couple and pulls Keith off to the side for a moment.

“What’s wrong?” Keith asks, immediately picking up on Shiro’s sudden anxiety. “If you don’t want to do this anymore, we can go. I’m sure there are plenty of oth-”

“It’s not that,” Shiro cuts in. He’s so charmed by how Keith is willing to throw their plans out the window at the slightest hint that Shiro isn’t having a good time but he has to come clean now. “It’s just… I might have, um, booked us as a couple,” he admits. “So, don’t be surprised if they say something.”

“Um, okay?” Pink blooms high on Keith’s cheekbones and spreads over his cheeks.

“There was a really good deal for the festival and also this way we won’t be separated,” Shiro rambles out. He clenches his hand at his side, resisting the urge to reach out or nervously run his fingers through his hair.

Keith is just staring at him.

“It’s fine,” Keith says after an interminable moment. He cracks a smile, all soft and sincere and more than Shiro deserves or can handle. “Glad you’re not leaving me to face this on my own. I have no clue what we’re about to do.”

“We’re about to get pampered,” Shiro declares. He takes Keith’s hand, trying not to think about it too much, and leads them to the front desk to check in.

Shiro is buzzing with excitement as they’re left in a very fancy version of a locker room and given the familiar (to him) instructions to undress to their comfort level and put on the provided robes. Not only is he getting to to indulge in a long-neglected favorite activity at a very swanky spa, but he’s got Keith with him. Keith who did not drop his hand until he needed to sign something. He’s practically giddy at this point.

Moving on instinct from spa visits long past, Shiro strips off entirely before reaching for the rather small robe waiting for him. Shiro doesn’t think anything of it until he hears a choked noise from Keith.

He looks over and finds him frozen in place, tshirt clenched in his fist like he forgot he was holding it. He’s staring at Shiro, cheeks a bright, blinding shade of red.

“Oh,” Shiro breathes, quickly pulling the robe on and pulling it closed to cover up the blush creeping down his chest. “Forgot to warn you,” he offers with a sheepish smile.

“No problem,” Keith rasps out. He looks away and resumes undressing.

Shiro averts his eyes.

Mostly.

When Keith hooks his thumbs in the waistband of his underwear, Shiro busies himself with fussing with his robe. The material is incredibly soft but Shiro is very aware that it is barely long enough to cover his bits. He’s pretty sure his ass is hanging out part way. He tugs on the hem fruitlessly and then chances another look at Keith, figuring he’s had enough time to get his own robe on.

(And if not, well… Shiro won’t complain.)

Shiro is knocked breathless at the sight before him.

The robe fits Keith properly, hitting mid-thigh, but it clings , lovingly skimming over toned muscle, hiding and revealing in equal measure. It’s almost like lingerie, in a way.

Shiro metaphorically smacks himself over the head. He does not need to be thinking about Keith in lingerie when the robe is barely hiding his dick as it is.

He takes a deep breath and drags his eyes up to meet Keith’s. The light purple of the robe makes the violet of his eyes seem even deeper and it looks gorgeous against his skin.

Shiro really isn’t sure if he’s feeling more smitten or hot and bothered. What he is realizing is that this is going to be a very, very long day of pretending not to be staring at Keith in the silky fabric and knowing he has nothing on underneath.

He knew he should’ve risked jacking off in the shower this morning. He bites his tongue and then baits Keith into conversation, studiously ignoring the way Keith tugs at material of his robe almost unconsciously. They chat for a few minutes about the spa schedule and what to expect before someone comes to collect them.

As they go to follow their guide, Shiro realizes that when Keith moves a certain way he can absolutely see the outline of his dick. He bites his lip and gestures for Keith to go first. A gentlemanly move that earns an eyeroll from his friend.

It’s going to be a very long day for his self-control, Shiro thinks, but at least he gets to see Keith’s ass in this robe.

By the time they walk out of the spa, Shiro is simultaneously more relaxed and more keyed up than ever. A whole day of seeing Keith barely dressed and vocally enjoying the spa experience was… it was certainly something.

He has a whole new arsenal of sounds to incorporate into his fantasies. Sometime when he’s not sharing a room and a bed with the object of said fantasies, of course.

Keith knocks into his side, all loose-limbed and giddy. Vacation is a good look on him. “Thanks for today, Shiro.”

“Of course,” he answers. “Spa day live up to expectations?”

Keith nods. “Didn’t know what to expect, but it was great. We should do it again sometime.”

Shiro might die, but he would certainly die with the best view. “Yeah,” he agrees, clearing his throat, “we definitely should.”

Two days into this fourteen day vacation and his defenses are already a shambles, Shiro thinks. He has absolutely no desire to rebuild them. He wants Keith as close as possible, always has, even if it ends up breaking his heart.

“Mmm, I want to go melt into bed now,” Keith declares. He latches onto Shiro’s arm. “Got time for a nap in your busy schedule, Captain?”

“Think I can swing it,” he says, trying desperately not to let Keith saying his title like that outwardly affect him. “Also, I thought we banned titles for vacation.”

Keith makes a face at him and squeezes his arm. Shiro expects him to let go and braces himself for that, but he doesn’t, just stays pressed up against him.

The fact that Keith is tactile with him, generous with his touch with Shiro where he holds himself away from others, has been ruining his life for years. This is simply an escalation, he thinks as Keith continues to hold onto his arm on the walk back to the hotel, a sign of how comfortable and relaxed he is.

Keith steps away in the elevator, giving Shiro an assessing look. “You okay? You went all quiet.”

Shiro offers a smile, pushing his heavier thoughts aside to focus on the fact that Keith is here and happy and he is too. “Yeah, just looking forward to that nap.”

“All that relaxation is exhausting,” Keith teases.

“You’re the one who suggested a nap!”

“Spa rookie,” Keith says with a lazy smirk, “need the recovery time.” The doors open to their floor and Keith exits first to head to their room.

Shiro enjoys the sweatpants-clad view almost as much as the robe.

Keith palms the lock and enters. He toes off his shoes and kicks them vaguely towards the corner before faceplanting in the bed.

Shiro laughs as he puts his own shoes in the closet. “You really like that mattress, huh?”

“Stealing it when we leave,” Keith says. He turns his head to smirk at Shiro. “Room’s in your name,” he says. “You’re the one who’ll be charged.”

“I don’t even know who’s paying for this room but it’s not me,” Shiro retorts.

“If we’re on the Garrison’s dime I’m definitely stealing it. Maybe a towel too.”

“The robes are nice,” Shiro offers. “Fluffy.” Not at all like the spa robes but he wouldn’t mind seeing Keith in this one either.

“They have robes? Fancy.” He plants his face back in the pillow.

Shiro takes the opportunity to let his eyes trace along the line of his spine, lingering on the curve of his ass. His mind is wandering towards all the ways he could make Keith this boneless himself when Keith huffs and flips over suddenly. Shiro yanks his eyes up towards his face, cheeks burning, hoping desperately that Keith didn’t see where he was looking.

“Are you coming to nap or not?”

“Yes,” Shiro rushes out. He walks around to his side of the bed and slips in.

Keith grumbles when he realizes that Shiro is under the covers while he’s still on top of them and moves to get under the sheets as well. As soon as he’s managed that, he scoots over, eliminating most of the space between them in the large bed.

Shiro freezes, unsure what Keith’s intention is. He knows good and well that after the wonderful torture of the spa, he will not be able to keep any cuddling strictly platonic for long.

“This okay?” Keith whispers, voice wavering. He’s three inches from Shiro, not touching him.

Shiro nods. “Just wasn’t expecting it,” He admits. “Been a long time since I’ve slept in the same bed as someone else before this trip.”

It’s mostly true. He’s bunked down with friends when it’s been necessary, but no one he was afraid that he would wake up tangled with.

Keith’s look is a soft assessment, hazed by the pull of sleep and warm emotion. “Me too,” he says. “But you’re a human heater and I’m cold so I’m staying close.”

“Of course,” Shiro mumbles. Of course it’s just practical, platonic cuddling. He needs to remind himself of that.

But since it’s on offer… “C’mere,” he says, reaching for Keith.

Keith settles in next to him, throwing an arm over his waist after a tentative glance at his face and resting his head on Shiro’s chest. His shoulder is right where Shiro’s upper arm would be and it’s a nice bonus to this arm that he won’t wake up to pins and needles because of optimal cuddling positions.

Keith’s braid is right underneath Shiro’s fingertips. He strokes it, feather-light. As much as he loves the braid, he hopes that he’ll get to see his hair unbound at some point during these two weeks.

“Good?” Shiro asks.

Keith makes a satisfied noise that Shiro files away from the others from the day and nuzzles into him. “So good,” he says.

Shiro fights back a shiver at the feel of lips moving through his thin shirt. He presses his hand against Keith’s back, making small motions with his thumb.

“Sleep well,” he whispers. Shiro listens as Keith’s breath evens out but doesn’t close his eyes just yet to follow him into sleep. Dreams couldn’t possibly beat this.

He falls asleep between one breath and another, perfectly content.

When Shiro wakes up, he can immediately tell that they’ve slept longer than what he’d generally qualify as a nap. The only light coming in the windows is from distant streetlights and the two moons high in the sky.

Keith doesn’t seem to have moved much, still draped over him. Their legs are tangled together where they weren’t before, like they had felt the need to be even more intertwined at some point.

The heavy warmth of sleep gives way to sparks of heat that dance through his veins. He takes a deep breath, hoping it will be calming. He does not need Keith to wake up and discover that Shiro’s hard just from cuddling with him during a nap.

His inhale does not calm him, just brings a hint of Keith’s scent. Shiro doesn’t fight the impulse to bury his nose in Keith’s hair, breathing in the lingering scent of perfumed spa air and Keith’s own warm musk. He presses a kiss to the crown of his head, holding him closer for just a moment while he could.

Keith’s arm tightens around him and Shiro’s heart trips over itself as he wills himself not to panic. Not yet. He swallows hard, trying to get words out of his throat to see if Keith’s awake. Before he can manage, Keith turns his face into Shiro’s chest and presses the softest kiss right over his heart.

“Keith?” Shiro manages to vocalize his name. It’s breathy and feels like a prayer because he has to have imagined that. There’s no way that Keith had…

Keith lets out a prolonged breath, warm through the fabric of Shiro’s shirt and setting him on fire. “Hey, Shiro.” Keith holds on tighter, like he’s afraid Shiro might try to move away.

That’s the last thing he wants to do.

“Is this okay?” Shiro asks. He knows Keith has to be able to hear how his heart is racing. He splays his hand over Keith’s back, the prosthetic spanning so far across the strong planes of muscle hidden under his tshirt. It’s dizzying.

“Yeah,” Keith breathes. “Very okay.”

Shiro presses his cheek against the soft silk of Keith’s hair. He wants this so badly he aches with it. He wants to be able to wake up like this all the time, or at least all the time that they’re in the same region of space.

He has no idea what time it is, but it feels like that hour of the night where secrets can be shared in hushed voices and nothing bad will come of it.

“I feel like I’m still dreaming,” Shiro admits.

“Me too,” Keith whispers. His voice is a rasp, still rough with sleep and emotion. “Like I’ll wake up any second and you’ll be back on the other side of the universe or the other side of the bed and out of reach.”

“I want to wake up with you all the time,” Shiro confesses. “Just like this.”

“Shiro…” Keith shifts like he’s going to look up at him and Shiro buries his face in his hair, not letting him. He can’t have this conversation face to face, not yet.

“I don’t want to mess things up,” he says. “I know you’re doing great things out with the Blades and I wouldn’t want to change that for anything, but I miss you so much, Keith.” He breathes out, trying to gather himself. “I don’t know how to be when my heart is out there without me, probably throwing himself into danger headfirst.”

“Shiro.”

“Please,” Shiro begs. “Let me get this out before I lose my nerve.” If he stops now, even to let Keith react, he won’t be able to get the words out again.

Keith’s exhale is shaky. He nods and presses another kiss to his heart. It’s a shot of pure courage for Shiro.

“I love you.” It’s a statement of pure fact and overwhelming emotion and he feels like he might cry with the truth of it, with finally telling him, even if Keith doesn’t feel the same. “I love you so much and I’ve been so scared to tell you that I just buried myself in work so I could pretend not to be missing you every second of the day.”

His grip on Keith has to be suffocating by now but he can’t let go. “You’re everything to me, Keith. The whole universe and more and I don’t want this to… I don’t know. Make things weird. Just tell me to back off and I will and I’ll never mention this again.”

A few seconds tick by in agonizing silence. “Keith?”

“Oh, am I allowed to talk again?” Keith snarks against his chest, startling a laugh out of Shiro.

Shiro nods and Keith pushes against him, obviously wanting to see Shiro’s face finally. Shiro is in no way prepared for the fluid grace that takes Keith from cuddled up to his side to being straddled across his waist, hands braced on his chest.

His eyes are shining and soft as he looks down at Shiro. “I’d started to give up hope, you know,” he says.

Shiro is bewildered. “What?”

“Shiro, I’ve been in love with you for forever,” Keith says gently, hands clenching in Shiro’s tshirt. “I was starting to resign myself to you not ever feeling the same way.”

Pain lances through Shiro’s chest at the realization that he’s caused Keith so much heartache and uncertainty by not saying anything. That they’ve been stuck in the same situation this whole time. He brings his hands up to Keith’s hips and squeezes. “I love you,” he repeats. “I’m in love with you. Have been for years now.”

Keith lets out a shuddering exhale. “You can’t…” he swallows hard. “God, Shiro. You can’t say things like that if you don’t want me to kiss you.”

“Kiss me then,” Shiro tells him. “I love you and I’ll keep saying it unt-”

Keith cuts him off by leaning down and kissing the words right off his lips.

“I love you, too,” Keith whispers when he pulls back. “In case that wasn’t clear.”

“You’re welcome to keep making your case,” Shiro says, pulling him down for another kiss, deep and slow and molten.

By the time they pull apart again for more than a breath, Shiro’s managed to completely unravel Keith’s braid, letting his hair fall in a curtain around them.

“Been dying to see if like this since you started growing it out,” he admits, running his fingers through it.

Keith smirks. “Like this or spread across your pillows?”

“Both,” Shiro whispers emphatically. He flips them so Keith is on his back, hair splayed around him, and licks back into his mouth in a filthy kiss that leaves no doubt as to where this is going, if Keith wants.

Keith grabs twin handfuls of his ass and Shiro moans into his mouth as Keith uses his grip to grind their hips together.

A few minutes later, they pull apart to catch their breath for a second, trying to find some control without bothering to pull their hips away from each other. Keith buries his face in Shiro’s shoulder, nipping at skin there now that they’ve both lost their shirts. He soothes the bite with a gentle kiss before huffing out a laugh.

“What’s so funny, hotshot?” Shiro asks, taking Keith’s earlobe between his teeth.

“Can’t believe it took our friends setting us up at an alien love festival after forcing us to go on vacation to get here.”

Shiro laughs into Keith’s neck, smoothing a hand up his side. “Gonna send them fruit baskets for real,” Shiro decides.

“Don’t,” Keith growls. Shiro shivers and Keith flips them over again so he’s looking down at Shiro. “At least not until vacation is over,” he continues. “Let them sweat it out while we fully enjoy the festival.” He grinds down against Shiro’s erection.

“Full of good ideas,” Shiro praises, voice thready with pure want. Keith is the one who shivers this time.

He leans down and kisses the smirk off Shiro’s face before he can say anything about it.

Shiro doesn’t mind one bit, turning all his considerable focus back to making Keith forget everything except the love burning bright between them.