Archive of Our Own

Shiro winces when Matt’s elbow unceremoniously digs into his shoulder as he drapes himself over the back of Shiro’s chair. “Can I help you?” he asks, turning his phone over as quickly as he can in the hopes that Matt didn’t see what he was looking at. It’s not like he was doing anything wrong , but Matt would drag him for it anyways.

Matt sighs and flops into his own chair. “Sure can,” he says. “Want to tell me why you’re on that guy’s site again when you’re supposed to be working?”

“I’ve been done with the work they assigned me for two hours,” Shiro replies with a snort. “Brass seems to think that I lost my brain along with my arm and didn’t manage a replacement.”

“They’re the ones in need of brain replacements,” Matt mutters.

Shiro hums in agreement and risks picking his phone back up. Of course, Matt being the incorrigible asshole that he is, can’t let that go.

“So. Tattoo guy’s site. Why are you still stalking it?”

“I’m not stalking anyone,” Shiro argues. “I just like his art.”

“Like his art,” Matt parrots, eyebrows nearing his hairline. “That does not cover being on his page four times that I’ve seen this week when he posts sporadically at best.”

“I’ve been thinking about getting a tattoo.” He keeps his eyes on his phone. He’s paused on one of the few photos that have the actual artist in them. Graceful hands hold the tattoo gun as he inks an Olkari’s back with his signature sharp lines and bleeding colors and soft flowers. The artist’s — Keith’s — hair is braided back, a contained spill of black twined with hints of purple. There are no pictures of his face.

Matt whistles. “What’s the Garrison going to say about that? Their golden boy breaking the rules!”

Shiro’s eyes snap up to meet Matt’s laughing gaze. “What are they going to do? Ground me?” He takes a controlled breath. “I haven’t been their golden child since the accident. All I am is a deadweight they keep on for good PR.”

“You’re going to fly again,” Matt says, iron in his voice. “You’ve passed all their physicals. They have to put you back in the rotation. You’re still the best pilot they have.”

Shiro puts his phone down. “They’ll keep finding reasons to keep me out of the sky. You know it as well as I do. That’s why they keep having your dad brief me on assignments instead of facing me and letting me argue my case in person.”

“It’s so stupid.”

“Yeah.”

“So, tattoo then?”

“Maybe. Seems less drastic than quitting the Garrison and finding someone who will let me fly.”

“Sounds like you’ve considered that too,” Matt says evenly.

Shiro just shrugs. He’s got half a dozen open tabs for other galactic agencies and three applications downloaded. It’s gone a bit past considering at this point, but he hasn’t committed to anything yet.

“Okay, show me the tattoos you’ve been obsessing over. What are you thinking about and have you contacted the guy yet?”

Shiro scrolls back up the page to some of the tattoos he really likes. Sharp geometric shapes filled with flowers and landscapes. “I’m thinking something like this, but space themed and on my chest.”

“At least you seem to have good taste,” Matt muses. “So, what’s stopping you from making an appointment? Your mind seems made up.”

“The artist lives on Daibazaal.”

Matt sucks in a breath. “Okay yeah, that’s a problem when you’re stuck on-planet. Bit far to go to get a tattoo even if you weren’t.”

“I’ve been trying to find someone closer that has a similar style,” Shiro explains, “but I haven’t found someone I like as much yet.”

“You’ll find someone or you’ll find a way to launch yourself off to Daibazaal. You did always like to make things difficult and then stubborn your way through them anyways,” Matt teases. “Keep me updated.”

Shiro hums in agreement and closes out of Keith’s portfolio page to play a game while Matt whines about his research.

A week and a half later, Sam shows up in Shiro’s office while Matt is there hiding from the other people in his lab.

Sam chuckles as his son sits up straight from where he was slumped in a chair and starts to ramble out a bad excuse. “Don’t worry, I’m here for Shiro, not you,” he says.

“Playing messenger again?” Shiro asks, resigned.

“Unfortunately,” Sam confirms. “But I at least maybe have palatable news this time.”

“Oh?” Shiro feels hope bloom in his chest against all reason.

“They want to send you as the Garrison representative to a summit and exposition on galactic flight and exploration. It’d be a diplomatic and teaching mission, presenting the Garrison’s research and recent projects.”

“So they’re ready to ship me off somewhere so they don’t have to even have the risk of facing me in person,” Shiro interprets, not bothering to mask his bitterness. “It takes me out of the mission rotation.”

“It gets you off planet,” Sam counters. “We have time to convince them to let you fly yourself there. I know it’s not a mission like you were hoping for, but you like teaching, right? They specifically want an active pilot, not an administrator or researcher, because they want it to actually be a useful conference.”

“And I guess I’m the only active pilot that they don’t actually want to be active,” Shiro mutters.

“You’re pretty badass as a pilot, teacher, and diplomat,” Matt puts in. “They’d have to be incredibly stupid to not pick you for this and let you fly yourself there.”

“Matt’s right,” Sam says. “Think about it, Shiro. They want your answer within the next two days. I’ll send you the brief to look over.”

“Where is the summit?” Shiro asks.

“Daibazaal.”

Sam excuses himself to answer a phone call as Shiro and Matt both try to process his answer.

“Okay, you have to go,” Matt says.

“If I take this mission, they’re going to use it as a stepping stone to make me a diplomat instead of a pilot,” Shiro says. “They’re not subtle.”

“But it’s off planet and the Garrison is going to pay your way across the universe to get that sweet tattoo you want. Let them foot the bill for your ink and go geek out about space with everyone and shove it in the brass’s face that you’re so much better than they deserve.”

Shiro laughs. “You know what, you have a point.”

“I am a genius,” Matt crows, tugging on his collar.

“So you keep telling me,” Shiro teases.

He’ll look over the brief for the summit, make sure it’s something he can stomach, but he already knows he’s going to go, if only to get a tattoo from Keith.

Shiro steps off his ship and onto Daibazaal soil for the first time a month and a half later. He is more energized than he has any right to be after a long flight, but being back behind the controls of a ship, even if it was a small transport ship, was invigorating.

He navigates to his hotel, grateful for his universal translator that does a decent job with the local Galran dialect when he gets turned around a couple of times. Finally, he’s checked in and dropped his luggage off in his room. He’s still too keyed up for a nap and the summit doesn’t start for another three days, so Shiro changes into fresh clothes and decides to explore.

The architecture in Daibazaal city is as eclectic and unique as the people who call it home. Shiro’s been walking for ten minutes and has seen more species than he can count. No one even looks twice at him for being human or for his gleaming prosthetic.

It’s nice.

He buys food from a street vendor and lets his feet carry him off the main roads towards the tattoo studio he already mapped a route to before leaving Earth.

The sign for Blades of Marmora is striking and simple, purple and black and marked with the studio’s trademark symbol. One of the pictures in Keith’s portfolio that include his hands, reveals the same mark inked onto his inner wrist, on a blade.

Shiro takes a deep breath and walks into the studio. He’s come this far, he can do this.

Inside, the walls are covered in tattoo sketches cycling through on screens hung on walls painted a deep red. Not all of them are Keith’s, but Shiro can pick out all the ones that are with ease.

“Welcome to Blades of Marmora!” The cheery Altean girl behind the counter chirps out. “Do you have an appointment?”

“No,” Shiro admits. “I was hoping to make an appointment with Keith while I’m visiting, though.”

She eyes him up and then opens the door behind her, calling out in a Galran dialect that his translator only parses a few words of. He hears Keith’s name in there, though.

Someone with a pleasant rasp to their voice answers and they have a rapid-fire conversation that Shiro cannot understand. He’s practically vibrating with the possibility that he’s about to meet Keith, though. He’s barely let himself think about the person who makes the art he’s fallen in love with because he doesn’t want to be disappointed by reality.

But now he has a voice to go with the elegant hands and thick braid and beautiful art and he wants more .

The Altean turns back to him with a smile. “Please wait just a moment, Keith will be out to talk with you.”

“Thank you,” he says.

Shiro watches sketches cycle through as he waits. The other artists are also very talented, but Keith’s art is still Shiro’s favorite by far.

The door creaks and Shiro looks up and is struck breathless by the man walking through, preoccupied with wiping his hands down with a towel.

Keith is more beautiful than Shiro ever allowed himself to imagine. He’s only a couple inches shorter than Shiro and slender. He moves like a fighter or a dancer and Shiro is willing to bet that he’s a lot stronger than his build suggests. His face is all sharp angles offset by large eyes that are a striking shade of violet when they meet Shiro’s. His mouth — soft, plush — curves into a smile and reveals sharp teeth. His ears are slightly pointed and his arms are covered in tattoos and Shiro can see at least one peeking over the collar of his shirt.

He’s gorgeous and Shiro is so incredibly fucked. He was expecting to meet a good artist, not a hot one. He is absolutely not prepared for this.

“Hello,” Keith says. “I’m Keith. Heard you’re here to see me?”

Shiro nods. “I’m Shiro,” he offers in return. The fact that he keeps his voice steady is a miracle. He’s also incredibly glad Keith automatically reverted to one of the common languages in this area that his translator can handle.

“So, Shiro, what can I do for you?”

“I’m a really big fan of your work,” Shiro blurts out before wincing. “I mean…”

Keith’s lips quirk up in amusement. “Thanks. Romelle said you’re visiting Daibazaal. I’ve got a handful of slots open over the next few weeks that I can fit you into, depending on what you want.”

Shiro nods. “Oh, good.”

“Why don’t you come to the back with me and we can talk about what you have in mind.”

“Yeah, okay. Sounds good,” Shiro says.

“Come with me then,” Keith says with another small smile. “Romelle, if anyone else wanders in, give them to Acxa.”

“You got it,” Romelle says. “Have fun.”

Keith huffs and leads Shiro through the door and past several tattoo and piercing stations. A Galra woman is sitting off to one side, messing with her phone. Shiro can hear the buzz of a tattoo gun from behind a closed door.

“Acxa, I”ll be in a consult. Told Romelle to give you the next walk-in.”

Acxa rolls her eyes and just makes a dismissive hand gesture. Keith closes the door behind Shiro once they enter the room at the back that is obviously his office. It’s the same deep red as the front reception area and covered in Keith’s sketches. Shiro drinks them in greedily.

“Alright Shiro,” he says once they’re both seated. “First things first, is this your first tattoo?”

Shiro nods. “I’ve wanted one for a while but my job frowns upon it.”

“Humans are so weird about tattoos,” Keith mutters.

Shiro barely holds back a comment about how Keith almost looks human, if you ignore the pointed ears and teeth and the purple in his hair and eyes. “Yeah, they can be,” he says instead.

“You said before you’re a fan of my work?”

Shiro nods eagerly.

“Okay, do you already have an idea of what you want?”

Shiro had picked out several pieces from Keith’s online portfolio that he wanted to offer as inspiration, but here in Keith’s office, with the evidence of his art around him and the man’s bewildering beauty in front of him, all he wants is for Keith to put whatever he wants on his body.

“Not entirely,” Shiro hedges. “I want something on my chest. On the bigger side, I think.”

Keith’s eyes drop down to Shiro’s chest and Shiro really hopes that he isn’t imagining the gleam of appreciation in his eyes.

“Alright, let me pull up some of the chest pieces I’ve done before and we can see if there’s something you like.”

“I know it’s not something you do often, but I’m looking for something space-themed,” Shiro says as Keith starts inputting filters on the tablet that holds his full portfolio.

Keith looks up at him, considering. “Yeah, okay. I can work with that. You thinking black and white or color?”

“Umm, no preference?” Shiro squeaks. Having Keith’s full attention on him is heady.

Keith raises an eyebrow, but he also smirks and maybe Shiro being an idiot over the pretty boy in front of him isn’t a complete disaster.

Matt laughs uproariously at him when he calls him once he’s back at the hotel. “I can’t believe you went halfway across the universe just to be a gay disaster over the tattoo artist of your dreams.”

“Matt…” Shiro whines. “He’s so pretty. He’s hot . He’s hot and pretty and talented and it’s not fair.”

“Takashi Shirogane brought low by a pretty Galra boy. Never thought I’d see the day,” Matt teases. “The men of the Garrison never stood a chance and they didn’t even know.”

“Whatever,” Shiro says with an eyeroll that he makes sure Matt can see on camera.

“Fine, fine, I’ll leave off for now,” Matt says, dramatically wiping his eyes. “Did you manage to decide on a tattoo?”

“Keith showed me a few that could be altered to be a space design,” Shiro says. He’s fairly sure that Keith didn’t notice Shiro being slightly fixated on his fingers as he swiped through designs. If he did, he was kind enough not to mention it. “No actual decision yet though. I’m meeting him for dinner tomorrow night to go over designs again.”

Matt’s eyes widen. “You got a date with your dreamy tattoo artist even after being a complete gay disaster? Damn, Shirogane, maybe you have more game than I gave you credit for!”

Shiro’s ears are on fire. “It’s not a date. It’s a business meeting.”

“Mmm, completely normal for a tattoo artist to take their client out to dinner,” Matt drawls.

“Maybe it is here,” Shiro says.

“Doubt it,” Matt says cheerfully. “So, you going to let yourself relax a little? Indulge in a little holiday romance? Or are you going to be boring and try to be professional and not woo the pretty artist?”

Shiro drags a hand down his face. “I don’t know. I guess I’ll just see how it goes? You know I’m not great at the whole… romance thing.”

Matt had borne witness to Shiro and Adam falling apart a couple years ago and then also to Shiro’s combination of general disinterest and ineptness when it comes to dating. Shiro’s work has always come first and that means romance has been neatly swept off the table and under the rug.

He’s here on Daibazaal for work, for a tattoo, for strengthened connections with other astronauts and scientists and to share knowledge.

He’s not here for a flirtation or a holiday romance. But he can’t deny that he wants to be here for that reason. For all that Shiro has put his work and the Garrison first, they have not returned the favor. Perhaps it wouldn’t be the end of the world if he let himself...indulge. See where things go, if they go anywhere at all.

“Earth to Shiro,” Matt’s voice cuts through his thoughts. “Have you been listening at all?”

Shiro gives him a sheepish smile. “Sorry Matt. Think the jet-lag is finally catching up with me. Think I’m going to grab some sleep. Talk to you later?”

“You can count on it. We are not done talking about this and I want to hear about your date!”

“Good night , Matthew,” Shiro huffs and hangs up.

Shiro spends the next day reading up on the summit and the people who will be there and the research being presented. The first few days will be full of meetings and speeches, but he doesn’t want to be caught off guard by anything.

It’s mostly effective in distracting him from being nervous over his impending date-not-date with Keith. He dithers over what to wear, not knowing where they’re going to eat. He settles on a soft sweater in a dark purple that can read as casual or dressy and usually garners him some extra looks. He pairs it with his favorite dark jeans and a pair of boots and spends too long trying to get his hair to cooperate.

Erring on the side of caution when navigating unknown streets has Shiro arriving in front of the shop twenty minutes early. Keith is already outside, leaning against the building and scrolling through something on his comm.

Shiro pauses, mouth dry as he takes a moment to appreciate Keith’s beauty. He’s in a tight, dark red t-shirt that shows off his arms and the art that adorns them. A black jacket is cinched around his waist, highlighting the curve of it. His braid is more intricate than it was yesterday and is pulled forward over his shoulder. He’s so gorgeous and Shiro is so doomed.

He takes a deep breath and walks towards Keith, calling out a greeting. Keith’s eyes widen a little as he sweeps his gaze over Shiro.

“Hey,” he says, straightening up and slipping his comm into his bag. “You’re early.”

“So’re you,” Shiro points out.

“Yeah, had someone cancel on me and if I stayed inside I would have been sucked into doing something and then I would have been late,” Keith explains. He smiles at Shiro, soft and sure. “Didn’t want to keep you waiting.”

“I wouldn’t mind waiting,” Shiro rushes to say, “not if it was for you.”

Keith’s cheeks tint purple and Shiro realizes that he’s blushing . It’s incredibly cute.

You mind if we walk?” Keith asks, fiddling with the end of his braid. “The place I have in mind isn’t far.”

“Fine by me,” Shiro says. “It’s a nice night and I trust you not to ditch me in a dark alley somewhere.”

Keith looks startled for a moment before he realizes that Shiro is teasing. Shiro wonders if there was something weird about the translation of what he said.

They chat about the tattoo designs Keith has been working on as they walk. Keith leads them parallel to the main road that Shiro had taken earlier. It’s a quieter street, populated with locals, several of whom call greetings to Keith, instead of tourists.

They come to a stop outside of a bustling restaurant. The menu sign in the window is in both Galran Standard and, surprisingly, Earth Standard. Keith looks sheepish when Shiro shoots him a surprised glance.

“I know you were probably expecting to try typical Daibazaal food, but a friend of mine runs this place and he makes the best food anywhere. It’s fusion food, but from all over and it’s usually better not to ask exactly what everything is.”

Shiro raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because he will always tell you and different species and cultures eat really weird things,” Keith says. “As long as it tastes amazing, I don’t want to know what Hunk’s put in it.”

“Fair,” Shiro says with a laugh. “Why a menu in Earth Standard, though? Daibazaal is far enough out from Earth that I assume you don’t have a ton of Earth tourists.”

Keith opens the door and gestures Shiro through. “Hunk’s from Earth. Ended up out here and decided to open his first restaurant. He has several on different planets, including Earth, but he’s here a lot. Likes to display a menu in Earth Standard to acknowledge where he’s from.”

Keith exchanges a few words with the host in that same dialect that Shiro’s translator can’t quite parse. They show Keith and Shiro to a table in the back and give them their menus before taking the reserved sign off the table and disappearing back to the front of the restaurant.

“Hunk’s in the kitchen tonight so I made sure to make a reservation,” Keith admits. “Sometimes it gets crowded if word gets around that he’s here.”

“Makes sense.” He looks down at the menu, skimming the options. There are some that obviously draw from Earth foods that look interesting and more than a few things that he has no clue what they might taste like. “So, what do you recommend?”

“Honestly, I just get whatever the special of the night is,” Keith says.

Shiro opens his mouth to reply but suddenly there’s a beaming man at their table. He’s tall and has an orange headband tied around his forehead and is wearing a chef’s coat with the sleeves rolled up. He’d be imposing if it weren’t for the bright smile.

“Keith! It’s been too long, man! And you brought me a guest!”

“Hey Hunk,” Keith says. “Yeah, figured talking through a new design would be better with your food.”

Hunk gives Keith a look that Shiro can’t interpret but makes Keith blush again, before turning his attention on Shiro.

“Oh, hey! I recognize you? Why do I recognize you?”

“Kerberos mission, probably,” Shiro says with a tight smile, waving slightly with his prosthetic.

“Oh! Oh shit, you’re Takashi Shirogane! I was in the Garrison program for a while and we all totally looked up to you! I wasn’t on a pilot track but one of my best friends was and it’s an honor to meet you.”

It’s kind of nice to meet someone who recognizes him for something other than the mission that derailed his career, Shiro thinks. “Nice to meet you too, Hunk. Keith has already heaped praises on you.”

“He’s biased, but I do try to live up to it,” Hunk says. “His family helped me out of a pinch a long time ago and then helped me get this restaurant up and running and he still has the nerve to try and pay for my food.”

“You don’t owe us anything!” Keith protests.

“Well, once again, it’s on the house and this time it’s because Mister Shirogane here is a legendary pilot and you are not allowed to block me from offering free food to others.”

Keith rolls his eyes.

“So, two specials? It came out really good tonight.” He looks at Shiro. “Any dietary restrictions?”

Shiro shakes his head, a little overwhelmed by Hunk’s exuberance.

“Two specials, then!” Hunk says. He sweeps their menus off the table. “I’ll send someone by with the wine pairing in a minute. It’s an Olkari vintage tonight.”

Then he’s gone, leaving Keith and Shiro blinking at each other in the aftermath. 

“So, that was Hunk,” Keith says finally. “He can be a lot, but you’ll never meet anyone kinder. My family’s essentially adopted him as one of our own. He’s got a big family on Earth and misses that when he’s away.”

“Do you have a big family too?” Shiro asks, curious to know everything about Keith that he can.

“Of a sort,” Keith says. “Only a few that are actually related. My mom and her cousin. Then a big extended family of aunts and uncles and cousins. None of us are actually blood related, but still family, you know?”

Shiro nods. “Do they mostly live here?”

“My mom travels a lot for work, as do a lot of them. But this is home.”

“That’s nice.” Shiro is saved from his own awkwardness by the server arriving with their wine and glasses of water. 

“What about you?” Keith asks after taking a sip of his wine. “Big family?”

Shiro shakes his head. “I was raised by my grandparents and they’re gone now. Have some cousins out there somewhere but we were never close. The Holts have essentially forcibly adopted me into their clan now, though.”

Keith makes a face. “Sorry, didn’t mean to bring up,” he waves a hand, neatly encompassing the topic of dead family. “I know that’s never comfortable. Lost my dad when I was still a kit.”

“I’m sorry,” Shiro says sincerely. “And you’re fine, I started the family topic.”

“So the job that frowns on tattoos is the Garrison?” Keith says, steering them away to safer ground. “And you’re a pilot?”

Shiro nods. “In theory at least. They’ve been mostly keeping me grounded lately.”

Keith makes a face. “Sounds frustrating.”

“Extremely.” Shiro is glad Keith isn’t asking why he’s grounded. Maybe the mention of Kerberos with Hunk gave him the information he needed. “I love being in space and flying. There’s just nothing like it.”

“Which is why you want your tattoo to be space themed,” Keith says with a nod. “I might have a couple other ideas now, but let me show you what I’ve come up with so far. Get a better feel for what you like.”

Keith pulls a tablet from his bag and calls up a handful of designs. He dismisses a few without really showing them to Shiro. They talk through what Shiro likes and doesn’t about the remaining ones until the food arrives.

Hunk’s food is as delicious as Keith promised and the conversation flows easily between tattoo discussion and detours into more personal tidbits. It feels like a date and Shiro is doing his best not to think of it as such because he is historically bad at dates and this is going so well.

When the plates have been cleared, Keith and Shiro linger over the last of the wine as they look at the sketches again. Keith takes notes of what they’ve talked about to incorporate into future designs.

He pulls up the last design, it’s smaller than what Shiro is looking for but he’s drawn to it. It’s triangular, with a shuttle flying towards a moon against a purple and azure swirl of space and stars.

“This is definitely my favorite, but…”

“Not quite right,” Keith says. “I get that. Tattoos are a big decision for some people, especially a first tattoo.”

“Sorry to be so difficult,” Shiro says.

“I like a challenge,” Keith says, mouth quirking up. “We’ll find your perfect tattoo. You’re here for almost two months, we have time.”

“Yeah, we do,” Shiro agrees, smiling back.

When they part ways, Shiro has Keith’s code programmed into his comm and a promise to have more sketches to look at soon.

He wakes up the next morning to two more ideas and an apology for messaging so late. Shiro just smiles and texts back a good morning. It keeps him in a good mood all through the opening ceremony and speeches that mark the kick off of the summit and expo.

Over the next few days, their messages move from being strictly about the tattoo design to about their days and other more personal topics. Shiro can’t help the way his heart skips a beat everytime he sees a new notification from Keith.

He likes him so much .

After a week of messages, Keith suggests meeting up again, offers to show him around the city a little bit since Shiro’s complained about being cooped up in meetings and lectures. He proves to be a very competent tour guide, mixing the normal tourist hotspots with local favorites.

Shiro’s feet ache by the time he gets back to the hotel, but so do his cheeks from smiling so much.

Matt and Pidge both give him absolute shit on their call that night because he cannot stop smiling as he talks about Keith and their day together.

“So, are you actually ever going to get a tattoo from your tattoo artist boyfriend?” Pidge asks.

“Not my boyfriend,” Shiro protests. “We’re friends.”

“Yes a friend that you have a ginormous crush on. A friend who sounds like he is absolutely into you as well,” Pidge intones seriously. “ Friends .”

“Pidge,” Shiro whines while Matt cackles.

“I speak nothing but the truth.”

“I haven’t decided on a design yet. Keith is determined that it has to be perfect.”

“Very friendly of him,” Matt chimes in.

“I’m hanging up now,” Shiro says, and does just that.

They absolutely don’t need to know that he’s already half in love with Keith and his soft laugh and elegant hands and dry wit and endless creativity. 

He has it under control.

Maybe.

Shiro walks into the shop to meet Keith the next weekend and is waved through to the back by a grinning Romelle as soon as he enters. He freezes as soon as he steps foot in the studio space. 

He abruptly and absolutely does not have anything under control.

Keith is shirtless and moving through the studio with unconscious grace in an almost dance as he cleans, earpods nestled into his ears. His chest and back are covered in tattoos, some his design, some obviously not. He’s a walking work of art in every way. 

Keith catches sight of Shiro and breaks into a smile, taking his earpods out immediately. “Hey! Sorry, lost track of time. Had an incident with some ink and one of the apprentices today and everything was a mess. Not sure the shirt can be saved.”

“Finally get to see more of your tattoos,” Shiro manages to say. He knows it’s not all of them. Keith has hinted at having some that are in places he cannot show in public.

“You only ever had to ask,” Keith teases. His cheekbones tinge lavender. “With this job, my body is my best advertisement.”

“It’s gorgeous,” Shiro blurts out. “I mean, the tattoos. Um, they’re not all your design right?”

They’re both blushing furiously now.

“No, some are by the uncle I inherited the shop from. Some I’ve gotten from other artists I admire. Couple of small ones,” he brushes fingers across the sequence of the moon going through her phases that mark the line of a rib, “are done by my apprentices when I think they’re ready.”

“Brave,” Shiro says. He wants to touch the mark of space on Keith’s skin, wants to trace all the inked lines. He wonders if Keith ever dreamed of space too.

He shoves his hands in his jacket pockets.

“If I don’t feel comfortable letting them ink me, I shouldn’t set them loose on clients,” he says.

Shiro steps closer. “Yeah, okay, that makes sense.”

“Let me finish up real quick? I really do have some sketches I’m excited to show you. I think we’re getting close!”

Keith turns to the side and reaches for something and Shiro catches sight of a tattoo going down his side. It’s not quite Keith’s art style, but it’s very similar. Like he helped design it, but not in full.

The top of the narrow diamond shape is obscured by a stylized depiction of Daibazaal. There’s Galran script taking up the middle, and at the bottom, near Keith’s hip, is the planet Earth. The design is simple and striking, done entirely in a dark purple ink that stands out on his pale skin.

Shiro must make a noise because Keith’s gaze swings back to him. He tracks Shiro’s gaze and his fingers reach over to stroke over the inked Earth.

“My dad was from Earth,” he says quietly, words laced with fondness as he answers Shiro’s unspoken question. “My mom and I designed this one together to honor him. She has one too.”

“It’s beautiful,” Shiro says honestly. “Can I ask what it says?”

“A love bigger than the universe,” Keith tells him. “It’s how my dad used to describe it, apparently, since it was so unlikely that they even met. He was a firefighter, not really one for space travel. But he did it for my mom.”

“That’s…” Shiro swallows, emotions getting the better of him. “That’s beautiful.”

“I think so too,” Keith says, smile something soft and private as his fingers trace over the words. “Wait for me in my office? I’ll finish up here and scrounge up a shirt and we can go over the designs.”

Shiro nods and then flees.

Keith rejoins him a few minutes later in a shirt clearly a couple sizes too big. “Antok was the only one with a clean set of spare clothes up here,” he says with a shrug. The shirt almost slips off his shoulder.

Shiro can see the curling flowers on his collarbone. He’s going to die.

“Do you mind if I ask a question?” Keith asks as he settles into his chair.

“Not at all.” Shiro, after all, just asked about what is probably one of the more personal tattoos that Keith has.

“You said before that your job frowned upon tattoos.” He pauses and waits for Shiro’s nod. “Is getting a tattoo going to cause problems for you?”

Shiro has told him bits and pieces about his struggles with the Garrison, but this is the most direct conversation they’ve had about it. “For all intents and purposes, they’ve already grounded me,” he admits. “I’ve passed all the tests they can throw at me but they don’t want me at the controls with this.” He gestures with his prosthetic.

“You’re here, though,” Keith says, a furrow forming between his brows. Shiro wants to reach out and smooth it away.

“I had to fight to be able to fly myself here,” Shiro says, not bothering to mask his bitterness. He slumps back in his seat. “They’re trying their best to transition me into a diplomatic or teaching role and hoping I’ll stop being a pain in their ass about flying missions I’m more qualified for than any of the other candidates.”

“That’s not fair. You love flying. It’s obvious anytime you talk about it.”

“Yeah, well they’ve decided that I’ve got a good face for PR and not enough real arms to be a pilot anymore.” He lets out a sigh and tugs at his hair before pasting on a ghost of a smile. “I’ve dedicated my whole life to this and it disappeared in one tech malfunction that took my arm and a state of the art spacecraft they refused to admit could be flawed.”

“So the tattoo is a big fuck you to the establishment?” Keith asks, a tease in his voice.

“It’s something that’s for me,” Shiro says slowly, feeling it out as he speaks. “Something I’m doing just for me and not for them or for my career.”

“But you want to keep flying?”

“More than anything. I like teaching, but it’s not the same as being out there.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m starting to come to terms with the fact that if I’m going to keep flying, it’s not going to be with the Garrison.”

“It’s not an if, Shiro,” Keith says. His voice is iron, unbending and unquestionable. “You will keep flying. Some other agency is going to be incredibly lucky to snatch you up.”

“I hope so.”

“Use this thing they sent you to to network. I’m sure that once people know you’re thinking about moving on from the Garrison, the offers will pour in.”

There’s something golden and warm glowing in the middle of Shiro’s chest. Keith has no reason to have this much faith in him, but he does , and it makes Shiro want to believe too.

“Maybe I will,” he says. “Now show me the new sketches.”

“I already have more ideas after this conversation,” Keith warns, “so these still might not be right.”

“I still want to see,” Shiro says.

They settle into the now familiar routine of going through Keith’s sketches and bouncing ideas and opinions off of each other until Shiro has to return to his hotel for the night.

Shiro starts putting out feelers for work with other agencies over the next week. The summit is half over and it seems impossible that he’s only known Keith for a month, has only been on Daibazaal for a month. It feels like he’s been here forever and for only a heartbeat at the same time.

There’s only a month left, and he hasn’t decided on a tattoo yet.

If he decides on a tattoo, he would have no reason to see Keith, but that’s not what’s holding him back. There’s still nothing that feels perfectly right, though. Plenty of beautiful designs that he would like having on his skin, but they’re aiming for perfection and it’s still eluding them.

Shiro’s classes at the exposition have been full every session. It makes pride curl through his veins, warm and satisfied at the fact that people here still see him as a pilot , as a valuable member of the space flight community for more than the research he is presenting on the Garrison’s behalf. They’re here for him .

The classes have been fully booked since his first one went well, which is why he’s surprised when he spots Keith in the back row halfway through one of his classes. He stumbles over a few words before finding his footing again.

He may show off a little, but he can’t help it. He likes knowing that Keith is watching him.

After the class wraps up, Shiro answers questions and impatiently waits for everyone to clear out as Keith waits over to the side. Finally, finally , the last student leaves and it’s just the two of them in the classroom.

“You’re an amazing teacher,” Keith says as he walks up to Shiro. “Not surprising, but really cool to see.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to be here,” Shiro blurts out. “I mean, I’m always happy to see you but…”

“My mom works closely with the Galran Space and Flight Agency,” Keith admits. “I asked if she could get me in.”

“I could’ve gotten you in, if you’d asked.”

“But then it wouldn’t have been a surprise.” Keith tugs on the end of his braid. “I wanted to see you in your element. I haven’t been able to get the design right and I thought this could help.”

“Well, my real element is actually flying…” Shiro trails off, an idea forming. “Actually, do you have time?”

“Yes? Shop is closed today.” He raises an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure you don’t have clearance to take me on a joyride, though.”

“I do have clearance to use the flight simulators, though.”

Keith’s smile is a lightning strike. “Lead the way, Commander Shirogane.”

Shiro does, trying to ignore the way the back of his neck burns .

He definitely shows off once he has Keith in the simulator with him. It’s not the same as flying for real, but it’s close. Keith has a wildfire grin on his face the whole time and it’s hard not to feel smug about it.

“You want to try?” Shiro asks when he’s finished his simulation.

“Absolutely,” Keith answers without hesitation.

Shiro surrenders the controls over to Keith, settling in as the copilot. He quickly goes over the controls and then sets him loose.

Keith is an absolute natural and it’s a joy to fly with him. Shiro’s happier than he can remember being in ages, the warm glow in his chest radiating out so strongly he’s surprised it’s not visible.

“I thought about joining the pilot corps. Space was a dream of mine for a while too.” Keith admits after Shiro compliments his flying. He reaches up and touches where Shiro knows the moon phases rest on his skin. “But so was art. My mom would’ve supported me either way, but she worried about the danger of becoming a pilot, especially when we were dealing with a lot of unrest at the time.”

“So you went with your art,” Shiro says quietly.

“Yeah. My uncle offered me an apprenticeship at the shop when I was partway through art school and I took it, fell in love with the art of tattooing and never looked back. Never lost my love for flying, though.”

He glances sidelong at Shiro. “I don’t think anything’s ever competed with flying for you.”

Shiro thinks that Keith might be the only thing that could, but he stays quiet.

“I have another sketch to show you,” Keith says quietly. “An idea I had during your class.”

“Oh?”

Keith holds out his tablet. “It’s still rough, but I think this could be…” He keeps talking as Shiro takes the tablet. “Listening you talk about space and flying to all these people who also love it… your passion was so clear.”

On the screen is a sketch of two hands, palms exposed and fingers half-curled, reaching towards a planet between them. It’s all stark, simple lines. Striking in its simplicity and highlighted by a nebula of purple space and stars spiraling around the hands.

“I know you were looking for something bigger and more in my style, but — “

“Keith, it’s perfect. It’s beautiful.” He traces the line of one hand before looking up at Keith. “This is it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. How soon can we do it?”

Keith bites his bottom lip, sharp teeth flashing slightly. “Now? The shop’s empty.”

“Let’s do it.”

The trip from the summit location to Keith’s studio is quiet. Shiro reaches out at one point and takes Keith’s hand, almost without thinking about it. Keith just twines their fingers together and squeezes reassuringly.

Neither of them let go until Keith has to unlock the studio door.

Keith takes half an hour to finalize the sketch, presenting it to Shiro to approve.

“Still perfect,” Shiro assures him. He hesitates, looking at the art that is going to be on his body soon. “Do you think… would it work okay on my arm? Like on my bicep?”

“Would work great,” Keith assures him. “Are you sure though? You were pretty sold on a chest piece.”

Shiro looks down. “Well, maybe I can get one another time, give you more time to come up with the perfect idea.”

“Yeah, that sounds good, Shiro,” Keith answers, impossibly gentle.

He directs Shiro to one of the chairs and tells him to take his shirt off while he gets everything ready. Before long, Keith has the stencil applied to Shiro’s arm and he meets his eyes and smiles before the buzz of the tattoo gun starts up.

Shiro watches him work, memorizing the look of concentration on Keith’s face. It’s a good look on him, but everything is, really. He’s never gotten to see Keith work before, though, and it’s an intense experience. It’s easy to focus on the look in Keith’s violet eyes rather than the pain of the burgeoning tattoo on his arm.

It feels like an eternity and no time at all when Keith pulls back and the buzz of the tattoo gun ceases. “We’ll have to do the color when this heals up a bit,” he says.

Shiro shifts his arm to get a better look.

“Do you like it?” Keith asks, uncharacteristically nervous.

“I love it,” Shiro whispers. He looks up and meets that intense purple gaze head on. “It’s beautiful, Keith. Thank you.”

Keith exhales, relieved. He offers a small smile. “Of course, Shiro. Let me get the cream for it and then we can go over your care instructions.”

Shiro reaches out and grabs his wrist before he can think about it. “Wait.”

“Shiro?”

He tugs him closer. Keith comes easily, swaying into his space.

Shiro tilts his face up. “Keith, I — “ He swallows hard. “Keith, can I?”

Keith leans closer and then pauses.

Shiro closes the gap and finally, finally kisses him.

When the exposition draws to a close, Shiro’s tattoo has color and is healing nicely. Keith makes very sure he’s following all of his instructions to the letter. Matt and Pidge have been razzing him relentlessly about his romance with his tattoo artist despite being the ones to encourage it in the first place. He really expected nothing less from them.

It seems unreal that Shiro has to leave when he’s been happier here than he’s been back on Earth in maybe forever. He and Keith have been carefully not talking about the fact that Shiro has to go back to Earth, carefully not putting a label on the thing between them.

Shiro wants to, though. There are three very specific words that have been on the tip of his tongue for too long already. He wants to give them to Keith more than anything.

“Have you thought about what you’re going to do?” Keith asks into the quiet between them on Shiro’s last night. They’ve both been pretending to sleep for half an hour. “About the Garrison, I mean.”

“I don’t think I can stay there,” Shiro says. “I don’t think I want to, even if they did miraculously start offering me missions again.”

“So, what are you going to do?”

“See if anyone is seriously interested in taking me on, I guess. A couple places seemed open to the idea when I hinted I might be looking.”

Shiro’s comm chimes from the nightstand. He sighs and rolls over to check it.

He reads the message and then reads it again, almost sure he’s missing something or maybe hallucinating.

“Shiro? Hey, you stopped breathing for a tick there?”

“Keith. Is this real?” He pushes the comm at Keith, watches him blink against the bright screen before starting to read.

“Holy shit. Shiro. Shiro this is real. Are you… Do you want to?”

Shiro takes the comm back and reads the message again. It’s an official offer from the Galran Space and Flight Agency, who apparently were very impressed with his showing at the exposition and would like to add a pilot of his caliber to their ranks. They want to meet with him to discuss details and compensation for leaving the Garrison and his home planet and it’s everything Shiro has wanted. They want him to fly missions and help teach a new generation of pilots.

They are offering him the chance to stay on Daibaazal and see where things go with Keith.

“I want to,” he says. He leans forward and kisses Keith. He keeps his forehead pressed to Keith’s when the kiss breaks. “I want to stay here with you, Keith. I want it as much as I want to fly.”

It’s a love declaration without the words and he hopes and hopes and...

Keith kisses him instead of coming up with a response and Shiro knows that he was understood and can read Keith’s own confession in the press of their lips.