Archive of Our Own

It's Keith's second blood drive of the day and the iced coffee and granola bar combo he downed seven hours ago is long gone. The library basement smells like disinfectant, furniture polish, and old books, and the donation line hasn't stopped. He's tired, hungry, and has an exam to study for tomorrow.

And yet, most of his brain feels grateful to see people coming out to donate. Lives will be saved. People are bonding over juice and cookies. If he was going to work a double shift, at least he's doing something good for the world. Plus Hunk begged him to take the evening drive and he couldn't say no. They'd been friends since sophomore year, and after rounding up a few more STEM grad students they rented a house near campus. Getting all of them certified with the Red V had been Lance's idea, and although most of Lance’s brainstorms tended towards disaster, Keith has to admit his housemate was right on this one. Surprisingly, he likes the work. He’s not afraid of seeing other people’s blood and he appreciates the extra income over his tiny grad assistant stipend. Keith has been an incredibly good stick from day one and the rumor at drives is that he never misses. (That isn’t true, but it happens rarely enough that Keith doesn’t dissuade anyone from that idea.)

One more patient to go.

He disinfects his station and then waves at the assistant taking vitals on the other side of the room. From behind the privacy screen, a tall man emerges and starts to walk in Keith's direction, his expression tense, though he attempts to smile. He's positively stunning. He gives Keith a little wave and the band-aid on his finger from his iron test looks tiny on his massive hand. "Hey," he says. "Guess I'm your guy."

Keith has never wanted anything to be more true in his life.

"Have a seat," Keith says, trying not to stare. "What's your name?"

"I’m Shiro. And, um, before you ask, it would help if you could use my left arm." He wiggles the fingers of his right arm, which is the most advanced prosthetic Keith has ever seen. "You won't get much out of this one."

Keith smiles. "I'm Keith. And left arm it is." He pats the bed, making sure Shiro is comfortable before he retrieves his tablet. "We just have a few questions to go over first, so try to relax meantime."

Shiro rubs his neck, his expression a bit sheepish. "This is my first time giving in," he pauses, "in awhile. I guess the nerves are obvious."

"You're fine. You're safe with me, okay?"

"Good." Shiro exhales. "I thought I wasn't going to make it through screening. My heart was racing."

He sees Shiro's vitals from intake; his pulse had been 98, just clearing the <100 bpm requirement. Keith runs through the list of questions, making sure everything matches. "Okay. Everything looks good. Just lie back for me and I'll get us set up."

Shiro's well-muscled form takes up the entire bed. Keith focuses on taping tubes and preparation, trying not to notice the tug of Shiro’s shirt over his flat stomach. "You,” Shiro says quietly, “You’ll tell me before you do anything, right?"

"I promise." He pats Shiro's arm as he rolls up the sleeve of his buttondown shirt. "I don't like surprises, either."

"I'm so glad I got you." Shiro suddenly flushes down to his neck, the scar across the bridge of his nose even more noticeable. "I mean, you seem really understanding. And this is my first time giving since my accident and I've been up in my head about it? I almost didn’t come today but then I thought that I’d be letting someone down? Sorry. I'm rambling. I just mean that I was hoping I'd have someone who wouldn't roll their eyes at the big guy who’s nervous of needles."

"I would never." Keith puts a tourniquet around Shiro's bicep. Everything about him is muscled and toned; the veins stand out in sharp relief. He’ll be an easy stick. "You're going to feel something cold. It's just alcohol." He cleans the inside of Shiro's arm. "Just breathe, okay?"

Shiro nods. His pulse flutters at the base of his throat and Keith puts on his calmest voice. "We're all set. Are you ready to save a life?"

A faint smile comes over Shiro's face. "Yeah."

"Okay. You'll feel a pinch now." Keith expertly maneuvers the needle in. "It might burn for a few seconds. It’s just the alcohol. It’ll pass."

Shiro's eyes are closed and he winces, his muscles tense. He breathes out through his mouth. "Is it, is it in?"

"Yep. You're doing great." Keith finishes securing the needle and puts a square of gauze over the site to block Shiro's view of the collection site. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay." Shiro releases a long breath. "It hurt less than I thought it would."

"I'll take that compliment," Keith says as he places a thin sponge into Shiro's hand. "Give this a squeeze now and then, kind of roll it around in your fingers. It’ll help move things along."

Shiro does. His breathing is softer now, slower, deep enough that his belly rises and falls. Good. Keith is grateful Shiro's his last patient; he can just focus on him. Shiro blinks and Keith is surprised to see a tear slide from the corner of his eye. "Everything okay?" he asks gently, standing in front of Shiro to block the rest of the room from view.

"Yeah." Shiro looks embarrassed, tilting his head away. "Sorry. A lot of people I'll never meet did this for me and I wouldn't be alive right now without them." He sniffs, his voice thick. "It doesn't seem like much but I wanted to do something, say thank you."

Keith's throat tightens. He wants to brush Shiro's hair out of his eyes, but he stills his hand. "It's a lovely thing to do."

A few more tears stream down Shiro's face. "I’m sorry. I didn't think I'd get so weepy."

“You're allowed.” Keith hands him a tissue. “Sometimes you just need to. Besides, you'll hydrate after anyway."

Shiro laughs, blotting at his eyes with his prosthetic. "My students would never let me live this down if they saw me."

"You teach?"

"Yeah. Just started. Undergrad physics at GU."

"Get out.” Keith drops down to a rolling stool beside the bed. Normally he wouldn’t sit but since his shift is nearly done, he allows himself the luxury. “I'm a grad student there."

"What are you studying?"

"Biochem. Debating med research. Not sure yet."

"Not med school?"

"Eh, I don't know about that." Keith checks the bag. "Don't forget to keep squeezing. You're about halfway there."

Shiro spins the sponge around in his palm. "You're good at this."

"Well, that's genetic." Keith grins, fussing with his name tag. He wants Shiro to see his name, to remember it. His hair probably looks like a shaggy mess and he's pretty sure a zit's coming in on his chin. "My dad's an EMT."

"No wonder your bedside manner is so good," Shiro says. Keith feels the flush creep up his throat. "My grandparents don't know what quantum physics are, but they sure do like coming to my graduations." He smooths his white forelock, which starkly contrasts with his jet-black hair. "I was planning on the space program." He lifts his prosthetic. "But plans change."

Keith frowns. "They won't let you in with a prosthetic?"

"This one's, well." He snaps the metal fingers together. "Experimental. A family friend runs a speciality tech lab. I got lucky. But for now, space is off the table. And you know what? Sometimes you get a different dream." Shiro's smile is small and soft. Keith can only imagine how many people fall in love with him every day. "Turns out I love teaching almost as much as space. I mean, I get to show students how physics makes the universe run. It's a pretty decent gig, you know?"

Keith chuckles. "It is. Too bad you weren't around when I had to take Physics I and II. Biochem's a different kind of nerd." He checks under the gauze to make sure the needle placement is still secure. "So wait, are you a PhD?"

"ABD. Still working on that beast. But yeah, eventually."

Keith sticks his tongue out. "A smarty pants."

"Says the grad student who became a phlebotomist on the side." It's so good to hear Shiro's light laugh, to see him actually relaxed. Keith wants this experience to be as easy as it can be for him. He's clearly been through a lot and the least Keith can do is distract him.

"You could learn," Keith shrugs. "Although I have been told I have a gift, so I do make it look easy."

"You have a gift? So you're the vein whisperer?"

"Basically."

"God, where were you when I was in the hospital? They'd wake me at 3am to stab me repeatedly. I was covered in bruises."

"Amateurs." Keith checks the collection bag. "The good news is that you're almost done."

Shiro almost looks disappointed. "Really? That fast?"

"You've got to be the first patient I've ever had who actually sounded sad about that."

"It's not so much the needle as the conversation." Shiro catches himself and bites his bottom lip. "I just mean it's been nice to talk to you."

"You, too," Keith says fondly. "I'm proud of you for being brave. I know coming in here tonight had to be a little scary."

"Wow. Thank you." Shiro looks taken aback. "You read people really well."

"Ah. Well, that's my mom's side."

Shiro taps his chin. "Psychologist?"

"Nah. Government. Special services. I have literally no idea where she is right now. She'll probably call while I'm studying tonight at 2am." Keith touches Shiro's arm. "Your bag's full. All done." Keith waits until Shiro meets his eyes. "I'm going to take the needle out, and you're going to hold your arm up and keep the gauze pressed tight. You ready?"

Shiro nods. He's tense again.

"Here we go." He draws the needle out and helps Shiro raise his arm. "You did it."

Shiro's chest drops with his exhale. "Wow. Oh. Okay."

"Gotta keep that arm up, yeah? Just hold the pressure and I'll be right back." Keith cleans up the space and gets Shiro's donation sorted. He sees Shiro's full name on the vials and bag: Takashi Shirogane. It's a nice name. He wants to say it, try the syllables on his tongue. He comes back to Shiro's bedside, glad to see he’s kept the pressure steady. "You feeling okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good." Shiro lets out a slow laugh. "Relieved. Grateful. I don't know. A lot of things at once, I guess." He pauses. "I think you meant physically, though."

"I did, but that's all right." He gently eases Shiro’s arm back down and checks under the gauze. "Everything looks good. I'm going to get you properly bandaged up, yeah?"

"Too bad no one will see it. No sympathy, you know?"

Keith's ears perk up. Was it possible Shiro lived alone? "The ice cream shop down the way gives a free two-scoop cone when you wear the sticker." Keith ties the red pressure bandage around Shiro's arm, letting his fingers linger for a fraction of a second, and then peels off a "Be Nice to Me, I Gave Blood Today" sticker. He presses it over Shiro's heart. "You deserve ice cream."

Shiro's grin is delightful. "How did you know I have a massive sweet tooth?"

Keith returns his smile. "Lucky guess." He holds out a hand. "Now when you're ready, you can sit up slowly, all right? Take your time."

Shiro nods, taking Keith's hand. Shiro's metal fingers feel just a little cool, almost pleasant in the warm room. "Thanks." He sits up and Keith watches him carefully. He looks a little pale, but that's not unusual.

"You good?"

"Yeah, I'm," Shiro says, and then stops. He blinks and sways a little. "I'm..." He falls forward.

Keith catches him.

Shiro's not his first fainter by far, but Keith's never felt such a fast connection to anyone in his life. Adrenaline floods his system as he eases Shiro's limp body back onto the bed. "It's okay, Shiro," he says. "I've got you."

He positions Shiro on his back and one of the assistants slips a foam cushion under his feet to raise his legs. Keith presses fingers against Shiro's neck, feeling the weak, slow pulse there start to pick up once he's lying down. Another tech appears, checking Shiro's blood pressure. "He's low. 90/60."

Shiro's been out for about twenty seconds when he lets out a soft sound, his eyelids fluttering. "Keith," he whispers.

"Right here." He squeezes Shiro's hand, trying not to feel a swell of pride that Shiro remembers his name. "You passed out for a second. You're going to be okay."

Shiro looks up at the strangers hovering over him, his expression fearful. "Can we give him a little space, please?" Keith asks, gesturing at the other Red V staff to take a step back.

"Thanks," Shiro says. His color is still off but his breathing is strong.

"I'm just gonna check your pulse, okay?" He takes Shiro's wrist this time, feeling the beat grow steadier under his fingers. "That's more like it," he says. "Your blood pressure dropped and you fainted, but luckily you fell on me and I caught you before you hit the floor."

"I fell on you?" Shiro asks, covering his mouth.

"I'm scrappier than I look. Got you up on the bed and poof, you're awake."

Shiro looks mortified. "I'm so, so sorry."

"Don't be." Keith pats his hand. "It just means you get to spend 15-30 more minutes with me while we make sure your BP stabilizes."

"Oh, my God." Shiro covers his entire face with his prosthetic. "I'm your worst patient ever."

Keith sinks onto the stool so he can be at Shiro's eye level. "You're not even. You're a dream compared to most people. I'll take you any day, every day." Shiro's eyes flick to Keith's face. Maybe that had been a little much. "Is this, um," Keith asks, "the first time you fainted?"

Shiro's breath stills for a long moment. "It's not. But it's definitely far better than my first."

"Oh, shit," Keith says softly. He's not supposed to swear at work. "I didn't mean to bring up anything. My bad."

"No, it's okay." Shiro shivers a little and Keith jumps up to retrieve a blanket for him, spreading it over his frame. There's just so much of him. "Wow. Thank you. Just got cold all of a sudden."

"Totally normal." Keith picks up a juice box, sticking in the little straw. "Take a sip, yeah?" There is something vaguely hilarious about holding a kid-sized juice box for a six-foot-four physics professor and Keith can't help but snicker.

"Are you laughing at me?" Shiro asks after a drink.

"Not at you. It's just this tiny box, and you're so," Keith gestures. "You're huge. Like a Greek god."

Shiro manages to blush despite his recent syncope. "I'm just tall."

"And built like a tower. Come on. When I stuck that needle in your arm, it was a miracle it didn't break."

God, he loves Shiro's laugh. "Keith."

"What? It's true."

Shiro blinks up at him. "Can I ask your medical opinion on something?"

"I'm literally only licensed to draw blood, but sure."

"Does fainting make you do things that are out of character?"

"I mean, mainly fainting makes you collapse."

"No, I mean,” Shiro stops. “Does it make you think crazy things?"

Keith pauses. "Crazy things like what?"

Shiro takes a quick breath. "Like you should get ice cream with me tonight. Once I can, you know, stand up."

Keith's heart speeds uncomfortably fast. The hottest man he's ever seen is asking him out, and he's in his ridiculous red scrubs. "What?"

Shiro points at the sticker on his chest. "Be nice to me. See?" He's so adorable Keith could die. "My ice cream is free, so I'll buy yours."

"You're asking me out."

"If that's okay. Like not against the rules or whatever." Shiro stills. "And, I mean, if you want to."

"Um," Keith says. His brain isn't working. "Um, yes, it's okay. And, um, yes." He feels like the one whose blood pressure just dropped.

Shiro's hand reaches out, brushing Keith's. "You all right there?"

"I'm good." Keith flushes, grinning. "And here I thought I was the only one crushing."

"Not the only one by far." Shiro drops his chin. "Um, you want a confession?"

"We haven't had ice cream and we're at confessions?"

"I, uh," Shiro says, "might have traded in line with someone else because I wanted you to be my person."

"Wait, what? Why?"

Shiro's eyes crinkle. "Because you're hot. I thought it would help me get through donating if I could look at something pretty, but then it turns out you're also brilliant and funny and sweet.” He coughs. “ I'm sorry if that's a little shallow but I couldn't take my eyes off you."

"Oh, my God." Keith drags a hand through his hair. "Shiro."

Before he can say anything else, the tech comes by again to check Shiro's blood pressure. "111/73. Much better. Mr. Shirogane, be sure to take it easy tonight and hydrate." She passes a pack of materials to him. "Call us if you aren't feeling well."

Shiro thanks her and holds out a hand to Keith. "Wanna try this again?"

Keith helps Shiro up, his hand on his shoulder as he waits to be sure Shiro's steady. "You good?"

"Yeah." He hands Keith his phone. "Can you put the number in here I should call if I feel faint again?"

"Do you mean 911 or are you trying to be cute?"

Shiro shrugs. "I mean, I am cute, but yes, I would prefer your medical expertise."

"Just a phlebotomist, but okay." Keith puts his number in and hands the phone back. "So. You're buying me ice cream?"

"Yes. Unless you want dinner first."

Keith gives him a long look. "Oh, now it all comes clear. You didn't eat before you gave, huh?"

"It was a crazy day! I had office hours and I taught two labs so no, the last time I ate was lunch." He winces. "Don't be mad."

"I'm not. Just, you know, eat beforehand next time." They step out from the ancient library basement and into the cool twilight. Keith feels Shiro's hip bump lightly against his and it feels right, like they're falling into step. Like Shiro was always meant to be next to him.

"You feeling okay?" Keith asks, looking up at Shiro. God, he's so tall.

"I mean, I'm a little nervous because I hope you're into me," Shiro says, his smile quick. "But you probably meant physically."

"I did, but good to know. And I am." Keith drops his gaze to the sidewalk. "You know. Into you."

Shiro's arm slides into Keith's elbow. "Ow. This hurts."

"Switch arms," Keith says, hooking the other side. "Yeah, I'm a good stick, but you'll bruise for sure."

Shiro stops walking. "Will you kiss it and make it better?"

Keith doesn't need the invitation. He steps up on his toes, wrapping an arm around Shiro's neck and sliding a hand over Shiro's chest as he kisses him. Shiro's mouth is soft and perfect, yielding against him, like this wasn't the first time but the hundredth, the thousandth. Shiro's heart pounds under Keith's hand, and Keith revels in the knowledge it's because of him. Their lips part and Shiro presses his forehead against Keith's, his breath fast. "You're going to get me lightheaded kissing me like that."

Keith chuckles against him. "Maybe we should do it lying down, just for safety."

"Keith," Shiro says, voice fond and soft.

"Shiro," Keith says, hand still over his heart. He doesn't want to move his palm away from the steady thrum, doesn't want to break contact. It's dizzying, his desire for this man, a person he didn't even know before tonight.

It doesn't feel chemical, like the hormones he knows are flooding his bloodstream.

It feels bigger. Like something his lab couldn't measure.

Like fate. Like destiny.

Shiro squeezes Keith's bicep. "Do, uh, you like burritos?"

"I do."

"Burritos first? Then ice cream?"

Keith nods. "I like the way you think." Shiro nods, but Keith feels the slight tremble of Shiro's body under his fingers. He needs some food and rest. "Hey. Let's get you a cone to eat now and we'll grab the burritos to go."

Shiro gets a three scoop cone--cookie dough, s'mores, and mint chip--and proceeds to inhale it. Keith goes for a chili chocolate cone and he uses his free hand to tuck around Shiro's waist, making sure he's steady walking home. Shiro's apartment is close by and they head towards a refurbished old building close to campus.

Shiro's apartment is furnished similarly to Keith's house: mismatched chairs, saggy sofa, and a pressboard table. Yet there are spider plants hanging from the ceiling, faded throw rugs on the floor, and frameless photos of nebulas on the wall. A cat leaps from the sofa and runs. "My roommate," Shiro says. "Black's kind of an introvert."

The entire space feels cozy and warm, not unlike Shiro himself. Stacks of physics textbooks are piled by the sofa, and a laptop and legal pads litter the coffee table. "Sorry. Excuse my grading." Shiro moves to pick them up when he stops, holding his hand to his forehead. "Whoa. Sorry."

"Hey," Keith says, guiding Shiro to the couch. "You need to sit."

Shiro's laugh is apologetic. "I didn't mean to be such a mess."

"You're not a mess." He squeezes Shiro's knee. "You need some food and something to drink." He unwraps Shiro's burrito, handing it over. "Here. Don't move. I'll get you some water."

"But--" Shiro looks stricken.

"Relax. I got you."

The kitchen is small but clean, and the fridge is covered with menus from local restaurants. Not a few of them, Keith notices, are bakeries. Shiro wasn't kidding about the sweet tooth. Everything in the kitchen looks as lived-in as his furniture except for a fancy coffee machine on the counter. Keith pours a glass of water from the tap and returns to Shiro's side. "So. That's an Accevido 2000 in there."

Shiro blushes. "I can explain."

"That's a serious coffee habit."

He takes a huge bite of burrito to bide his time and chews. "I mean, yes. Also, it was my gift to myself when I finished my master's." He lifted his eyebrows. "I'm a science nerd who likes coffee. Of course I get the NASA version of a coffeemaker, yeah?"

Keith smiles, pressing the water into Shiro's hand. "Drink. You'll feel better."

"I'd feel better," Shiro says, "if I wasn't eating alone."

Keith slips down beside him. "Subtle."

"Worked, though."

Keith doesn't usually eat like a feral creature but he demolishes the burrito while Shiro tells him about his classes. He's animated, eyes wide, and Keith gets lost in the sound of his voice. Those students don't know how good they have it. When Shiro finishes his water, Keith fills his cup again before settling in beside him on the couch. "So, Is this a new service from the Red V? Home visits?"

Keith leans forward and presses a kiss to his temple. "Only for very special patients."

Shiro sighs, reaching out to pull Keith closer. Keith lets him, sliding in until he's close enough to kiss Shiro again. It's warm and slow, and Keith's fingers curl against the back of Shiro's neck, feeling the rise of Shiro's shoulders and chest as he presses against Keith.

It's been a long time since Keith kissed anyone, and for a moment he worries maybe he's forgotten how, but the soft sound Shiro makes against him dispel his fears. Shiro's mouth opens and Keith doesn't hesitate, taking the kiss deeper as Shiro's hand slides around Keith's hip.

After a minute Shiro breaks away, breathing fast. "Is this okay?"

"Yes," Keith says, mouthing at Shiro's jaw.

"I'm not." A little tremor moves through Shiro's body. "I haven't." He exhales. "Sorry. I haven't, um, dated. Lately." He flushes, looking away.

"Hey." Keith rubs a thumb along Shiro's cheek. "You're fine."

"I know I just met you but," Shiro swallows. "for some reason I really don't want to disappoint you."

"I met you like two hours ago and there's been ice cream and kissing. How could you possibly disappoint me?"

"You're that easy to please, huh?" Shiro asks, a small smile appearing.

Keith smooths fingers over Shiro’s undercut. "As long as I get to look at you, I'm pretty damn satisfied." He presses his chest a little closer to Shiro's. "There's no pressure, yeah?"

Shiro relaxes. "Okay."

"Can I kiss you again?" Keith inhales the scent of whatever he's wearing, something woodsy mixed with a bit of antiseptic from the drive.

"Please."

Keith tugs Shiro forward, pulling him against him as he falls back against the couch. His weight is warm, heavy, perfect. Keith's hands roam over Shiro's back, mapping the planes of muscle as they move under his shirt. He's so fucking hot that Keith thinks that if he did actually die, it would be under Shiro, and that was probably the best way anyone could go. Shiro's fingers wind in Keith's hair and Keith can’t help but moan a little against his mouth.

When they break apart from their kiss, they bump foreheads, and Shiro touches the bridge of Keith's nose, laughing. "Shit."

Keith laughs, too. "Isn't kissing like physics? All angles? Like playing pool?"

"I hate to break it to you, but physicists don't get nearly as much action as you might think.”

"Is it the equations or the pocket protectors?" Keith teases.

"Hey, now. Equations can be sexy."

"If you're writing them on the whiteboard wearing tight pants, then I would agree."

Shiro's laughing again and the sound is like music. "We haven't even talked about the scrubs," Shiro says, kissing along Keith's neck. Keith shivers.

"Oh, God. I'm so sorry about those."

"You look good in them. Kinda sexy. Red's your color, I think."

It's Keith's turn to be embarrassed. "My butt disappears in these pants."

Shiro reaches down and gives Keith's ass a decidedly gentle, but firm, squeeze. "Nope. Still there. And may I say, kudos on your ass."

"That's quite the compliment, coming from your ass."

Shiro snags him in a kiss and Keith's swept in, feeling the powerful hold of Shiro's arms around him. People always talked about being silly with their partners, how good it felt to just laugh and be themselves with them. Keith's never experienced that. Everything's always been awkward and confusing and, well, disappointing. He's learned how to get by without the complication.

He suddenly really, really wants the complication, if it's in the form of Takashi Shirogane.

Shiro gives Keith's lower lip a soft bite before he repositions himself, only to make a quiet sound that's not pleasure. "Ow."

Keith's hand runs over Shiro's shoulder. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Shiro sits back. "My arm's a little achy."

"Here. We should take the pressure bandage off. That might help." Keith helps him out of his button down, leaving him in a GU t-shirt. His chest and shoulders are like a fitness magazine. Keith takes Shiro's left arm gently, finding the edge of the red pressure tape, unwinding it slowly. "Look at you, you didn't bleed through the gauze at all. Good job." He smooths his fingers along Shiro's firm forearm and then kisses the soft skin on the inside of his wrist. "So brave."

"I'm not."

"You were." He pulls Shiro back towards him again, liking the way their chests feel against each other. "Facing fears is hard."

Shiro's breath puffs against Keith's neck. "You seem pretty fearless to me."

Keith barks a laugh. "It's bravado."

Shiro doesn't look convinced. "Name one thing you're afraid of."

"You really wanna know?"

"Yes. Of course I do." Shiro holds himself up with his prosthetic arm and it's unfairly hot.

Keith takes a breath and lets it out slow. "You'll think I'm ridiculous."

"I promise you I won't."

"Yeah, you say that now."

"Keith." Shiro leans in, kissing the skin at the bottom of Keith's V-neck scrub top. "Just tell me."

"Ah, fine." He flicks his gaze to Shiro's. "I'm afraid to donate blood."

"Wait, what?" Shiro says, surprise laced through his tone.

"See! You think I'm ridiculous!"

"Oh, my God, I don't," Shiro says. "I totally understand why you'd be nervous of that because, well, same. But how, how do you do your job?"

"It's different when it's someone else. Like I'm in control and I can help them through it but the idea of someone else doing it to me," he says, "it just makes my skin crawl. I don't know how to explain it. And like, someday I want to try, maybe, but oh, my God, it freaks me out so, so much." Keith kisses Shiro's cheek. "See. I told you that you were brave."

"It was easy to be brave with you beside me."

Keith reaches up, twining his arms around Shiro's neck and pulls him closer until Shiro's head is resting on his chest. "You're sweet," he says, enjoying the warmth of Shiro's body against his own. "I think I'd just like to keep you here for awhile. Make sure you don't get lightheaded again, you know?"

Shiro huffs a laugh. "If this is the cure, I'm all for it."

Keith threads his fingers through Shiro's hair, slow and easy. "I almost didn't work tonight. I can't believe there's a universe where I missed out on the chance to meet you."

"Nah. That's the darkest timeline. We don't talk about that." Shiro nuzzles into his touch. "I'm really, really glad you took that shift."

"Me too."

They fall into quiet for a long moment, but it's not the kind that scares Keith, the kind that makes you worry. It's peaceful. Shiro's cheek is a welcome weight over his ribs, like a beautiful paperweight keeping him right where he belongs.

"Do you run?" Shiro asks, his voice slightly muffled against Keith's shirt.

"Run? I mean, I did track in high school. I just do jogs in the neighborhood now."

Shiro curls a little closer. "Your heartbeat's kinda slow. I wondered if that was why."

"Ha! You had it racing all night. Maybe it finally calmed down."

Shiro cranes his neck to peer at him. "I did?"

"Yes! Do you even know how attractive you are? Do you own a mirror?"

"Keith."

"Shiro."

They both laugh and it's not even cheesy; it's this genuine sound that shakes out of both of them and Keith wants to capture it, to make it his ringtone, to hear it again and again.

He doesn't believe in love at first sight.

But he does believe in this.

He leans forward to kiss Shiro's crown. "So now what? Now that we've both agreed that the other is, objectively, hot?"

"Hmm." Shiro's hands slide along Keith's sides. "I think you should go out with me again."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Like, you know, tomorrow."

Shiro yawns, trying to cover it. "Like dinner. One not wrapped in a tortilla. No offense to tortillas, obviously."

"Okay. Dinner it is."

"Unless that's too long to wait. We could do lunch. Or breakfast."

Shit, he could just wrap Shiro up and never let him go. "You're so cute."

"Am I coming on too strong?"

"You're coming on just fine." Keith's hand traces Shiro's spine and Shiro lets out a soft sound. "That feel good?"

"Yeah." Shiro, as big as he is, seems so comfortable lying against Keith. "I just don't want to fall asleep on you. That's rude."

"I wouldn't be offended."

Shiro's voice is a little sleepy. "You have," he says, yawning again, "to study. Don't wanna keep you." He laughs. "I mean, I do wanna keep you."

"Just relax," Keith says, letting his fingertips glide over his back.

"Keith," Shiro whispers, his breathing starting to slow.

He's so comfortable, limbs relaxed and one leg tucked along the outside of Keith's. Keith wonders how long it's been since Shiro's been this close to anyone, and realizes he doesn't want Shiro to be close to anyone else, not like this. Shiro's breathing finally settles out as he drops into sleep. His face is relaxed, making him look even younger. He's a marvel, a daydream come to life, but Keith can feel his breaths and the steady thud of his heart, grounding him in reality.

This happened. This is real.

It wasn't how he intended to fall.

He never intended to fall at all.

That's what he's really afraid of, if he's honest.

But somehow, maybe they can be brave together.

Keith closes his eyes, matches his breath with Shiro's, and lets himself go.