Work Text:
There had to be a limit on how many times a comma could be moved around a single sentence in a day, Shiro thought, changing said comma for what was probably the twelfth time in the span of the morning. He knew himself to be a perfectionist to a fault, a fact he’d long since made peace with, but that particular piece of dialogue was just not working like he wanted it to, and it was driving him absolutely insane. What if… he decided to leave the comma in place, rework the words a little instead. Perhaps if he used a synonym somewhere he could find the sound he was going for?
He was in the process of changing basically all the words in the sentence, when his phone pinged. Usually Shiro would just ignore it, keeping it in silence altogether, but he’d been waiting for an answer from the panel’s organizer about the allotted time he’d have at the novelty night in the con, so he decided to check it.
It had to have been longer than he’d thought, sitting at the kitchen table with his laptop, because the moment he stretched to grab the phone, something popped in his shoulder and hip alike, pulling a groan from his lips. He checked the time only to verify he’d been sitting for a whole four hours straight, his coffee cold and forgotten next to the freshly delivered draft of his bound novel. As he stood, deciding a break from his newest project was long overdue, Shiro couldn’t help caressing the cover, fingers tracing over the slightly raised letters of the title.
No matter how many times he’d seen the design before, or even held the book in his hands, Shiro still couldn't believe that he had managed it at last. His very first novel. It had felt surreal almost, the way he’d moved from ‘I want to try my hand at sci-fi’ to ‘damn, I have a whole ass book finished’. Not to mention the response he’d gotten from the publisher, and screening reading group.
Shiro stared longingly at the cover, the group of heroes standing in front of space’s black horizon, the light of their lions a multicolor wake in front of them, all made by the wonderful hand of his best friend. He couldn’t control the sigh that escaped him, just as it did any other time that Keith came to his mind, which was pretty often if he was being completely honest. Still, beyond whatever silly crush he was still harboring for his best friend, it could not be denied that Keith was an amazing artist, and that Shiro- anyone, really- would be crazy not to stop whatever they were doing for a moment, and admire the stunning lineart, wonderful color rendering and attention to detail. Even in the small cover, Shiro could still see every crease and seam in the spacesuits, the dust on the outcropping where they were standing, the weight of Sven’s hand on Akira’s shoulder. It was mesmerizing.
His phone pinged again, and one more time not three seconds later, making Shiro remember what had pulled him from his writing in the first place. Taking his mug to get a refill of hot coffee, Shiro grabbed his mobile, now under the assault of a string of notifications, to check what the fuss was all about.
There were a couple of messages from Matt that Shiro would get to later, one of Allura’s five minute voice notes, and several instagram notifications of people tagging him in comments. Huh, that was weird. Even weirder that when Shiro tried to go check them out, they were no longer available, the post where they’d been made seemingly pulled from the app. That’s when Keith’s texts started coming.
Shiro, I’m sorry
Fuck, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize. It was such a stupid mistake.
I’m trying to fix it.
Fuck, fuck. Sorry.
What? Shiro had no idea what was going on, but his heart was making some weird crushing sound inside his chest regardless, mind going a thousand miles an hour trying to understand what Keith was talking about. He stared at the words for a moment longer, as if he could find something hidden between the characters, and then saw the ‘writing’ bubble pop up again, stop, appear again, and then stop once more.
Shiro didn’t move his eyes from the screen, waiting for some sort of explanation, something more, trying not to panic over the unknown even when his mind was running every possible scenario in his head. Each worse than the one before. When it was well over a couple of minutes and Keith’s bubble never showed up again, Shiro decided to call him.
The first two rang until they got sent to voicemail, only making Shiro’s anxiety spike, stomach twisting in worry. He was dialing again, already walking to the door to put on some shoes and go find Keith, when there was a thump in the hallway outside, then the sound of keys. Shiro hurried to open up, only to find himself with a handful of Keith, his friend falling head first into his chest.
“Keith, what-”
“Shit, I was-”
It was probably quite a funny sight, two grown men all but tripping to the floor of Shiro’s foyer in an attempt to regain their balance. Both of them with a phone and set of keys in their hands, not to mention Keith’s insanely heavy backpack and the fact that- “Was that your head against the door?”
“Wait, let me-”
“Here, I’ll just-” Shiro managed to drop the keys back on the bowl at the entrance table, phone finding a place in Keith’s open backpack so he could grab his friend’s shoulders and steady them both. “There,” Shiro let out a breathy chuckle that died down a mere second later with Keith’s stormy eyes looking up at him filled with regret. And then Keith’s head was thumping against his chest again.
“‘m so sorry, Shiro.” Keith’s hands were tight fists on Shiro’s shoulders, his voice a sorrowful mumble. Shiro didn’t even have to think before his arms were wrapping around Keith’s middle, bringing his friend closer.
“Hey there.” Shiro rubbed circles on Keith’s back until his hands unclenched and Keith stopped murmuring apologies to Shiro’s shirt. He didn’t think it would really matter, whatever Keith was apologizing for, Shiro would be okay with it. Still, he wouldn’t be able to calm his worries until he knew for certain, so Shiro maneuvered them to the couch in the living room, helping Keith sit down so they could talk. That, and so that Shiro could put some healthy distance between his silly heart and Keith’s sweet and fruity shampoo. “What happened Keith?”
“IuploadedsomeartofSvenandAkiratoinstagrambymistake.”
Shiro blinked in confusion, trying to separate the jumble of words that spilled from Keith’s lips.
“Come again?”
Keith took a deep breath, eyes falling shut for the briefest of moments, Shiro’s heart halting for about the same amount of time. There was some tension in him still, sitting too straight on the couch and looking at pretty much anything that wasn’t Shiro.
“I uploaded some art of Sven and Akira to instagram.” Keith’s voice was grave, measured, as if he were waiting for the moment Shiro would stand up in a fit of anger. When he said nothing, Keith continued, slowly starting to ramble again. “I swear I didn’t mean to, and I took it down as soon as I realized, but people already saw it, and I’ve already seen screenshots of it. And people kept tagging you on it, and god Shiro, I’m really so sorry. I know you wanted to wait and show the art at Comic Con, and I just ruined everything.”
“Hey hey, Keith, wait-” Shiro reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing just so to get his attention and stop the babble. “This is about art?” Keith watched him with wide, shiny eyes and nodded. Something loosened in Shiro’s chest, and he could breathe normally again. “Okay. That’s- that’s okay. That’s fine, don’t worry.”
Keith’s mouth opened and closed a couple of times, his face the very image of disbelief, so open and soft in a way Shiro knew Keith only allowed himself to be with him. It made Shiro’s heart yearn for more. Made his hand squeeze a little bit tighter on Keith’s shoulder, and pull away half a second later, before the heat spreading through him could somehow be felt by Keith where they were touching.
“But,” Keith started again, a little frown knitting his brows together as he tapped and scrolled furiously on his phone. His voice was small once again, and growing smaller with each word. “It’s just, it was ship art, Shiro. Here.” He shoved his phone onto Shiro’s hands, where a strip of three images there made Shiro’s already flustered body flare up.
The setting was one that Shiro had seen many times before, all the way through the writing process of the novel, and whenever he closed his eyes. The clone facility at the back, the blue and white hues illuminating Sven and Akira’s faces. Akira’s hurt and fear so vivid in the lines of his face, the drop of his shoulders, and Sven’s whole body contorted in fury by the witch’s hand. Shiro didn’t need the image to have the dialogue to know what was happening right there.
The second image was like a punch to his gut, and a frequent setting in Shiro’s dream, starring the man who drew it. Sven’s prosthetic-turned-blade pressing against Akira’s face, leaving an angry mark there. Akira’s eyes were blown wide, teary. Sven’s startled out of the mind link. The confession scene had haunted Shiro for months, had become a recurrent place for his mind to go whenever his feelings for Keith couldn’t be controlled, and he couldn’t believe he was seeing it right now, in full color.
He moved to the next one, and choked on a strangled sound that he failed to quiet before it left his throat.
“Keith-” Shiro breathed, enraptured.
It was not even an explicit image even, just, it was breathtaking. And everything Shiro had pictured in his head while writing the black paladins fight, except… except Shiro had not written this ending to it. Yet there they were, Sven and Akira kissing in what Shiro imagined was an answer to the confession, and god, it was perfect .
“Keith, this is beautiful, I...” Shiro shook his head, and tried to get his feelings under control, unable to form any more words unless he wanted to end up confessing himself. He looked at Keith, who was blushing bright red, hands worrying at his pants, the line of his neck straining from the strain of not looking at Shiro. He wanted to reach out and touch him, put a hand on top of Keith’s, but he felt like he would either do something completely stupid immediately after, or Keith would bolt like a scared cat. So he just returned the mobile, and insisted, “It’s really stunning Keith, why are you worried?”
“Because, Shiro!” There was the leaping from the couch and paced around the room, hands making a bigger mess of his already wild hair. “Because-!” Shiro had been in the first row to witness many of these moments throughout college, when he and Keith shared a dorm. He’d calmed Keith down many a time too, but this time it seemed like there was something else bothering him. It wasn’t just about mistakenly posting a drawing, as much as it was true that Shiro had wanted to keep the visuals a surprise for the panel.
“People have seen it now, Shiro. And they took screenshots.” Keith started walking around the couch, hands gesturing wide one second and buried deep in his pockets the next. “They ship them. They already have a ship name! I didn’t even have one of those. It was just a minute, I swear it.” Keith’s fingers dug into the back of the couch, his face stopping just a few inches from Shiro.
It was but an instant, and then he pushed away to resume his pacing, but in that moment Shiro could see every one of his long and thick lashes, count the faint freckles that smattered across his high cheekbones, and drown in the pool of violet calling him in.
“They have a ship name?” Shiro blurted, for lack of a smarter thing to say.
“Svenira, yes, but that’s so not the point, Shiro,” Keith’s exasperated answer shook Shiro down from his cloud. He stood, and crossed the distance with his friend in a couple of strides, hands keeping Keith from walking away.
“Keith, listen, it really is okay,” Shiro searched his friend’s eyes until he managed to keep them on him. “It was a mistake, and- and people are right to ship them, because damn, they look so good together Keith. It’s really a stunning piece, you outdid yourself. I don’t know how you do it, but you really got inside my head.” There was a faint flush creeping up Keith’s neck, and a slight twitch to the corner of his lips, so that meant his words were working.
He eyed Shiro, the tiniest glimmer of hope in his eyes. “You’re sure?”
“With you? Always.” Shiro dropped his arm around Keith’s shoulders, hugging him to his side. And then, to ease the earnestness in his voice, “You’re not a mind reader, are you?”
That earned him a snort, and a small head bump against his shoulder. “Pff, not everyone is one of your fantasy characters, old man.” Everything was okay.
“Hey! You like my characters. You make art of them, you punk.” Keith snuck from under his embrace, picking his bag up from where it had been unceremoniously dumped upon his dramatic entrance, to rummage through it.
He watched as Keith waved a hand in the air, grabbed his tablet- shoulders shaking with silent laughter -and made his way into the kitchen. Shiro winced before he heard it. “You didn’t have breakfast.” He hunched into his shoulders. “Or lunch.” And closed his eyes. “Shiro, get in here.”
Yes, everything was back to normal.
-
Shiro had been in different fandom circles his whole life. From the early Pokémon stages where fandom operated in the schoolyard, trading cards and showing off miniature figurines to the early high school stages, where every tv show and movie warranted a lengthy debate, fanart was the best gift a friend could give you, and fanfiction was distributed clandestinely on ripped notebook pages. Arriving finally at the select few, curated spaces where he could engage in long meta conversations, share his headcanons, and mostly just enjoy the magic of people coming together from all over the world to fawn over a well done crossover between Star Trek and Harry Potter.
So yeah, Shiro considered himself quite honed in the fandom world, except for one tiny detail- the shipping discourse.
It wasn’t as if he’d never come across it in his life- heck, he’d gotten into a fight with a schoolmate over whether or not Pokémon villains Jessie and James were siblings or partners two decades ago. It was mainly that he’d ignored that type of discourse as absurd rivalry. It wasn’t a surprise then, that he never thought twice about the mistakenly posted art and its consequences until his agent called him later with exciting news about trending topics and new ideas .
-
“Everything okay, Shiro?”
“Huh?” Shiro looked up from his phone and caught Keith’s eyes over the menu he was slowly lowering. They were out for their weekly let’s-not-cook dinner, and talking about nothing in particular when Shiro got the text, and he hadn’t realized he’d spaced out. “Yeah, yes, it’s just the…” he trailed off, heat flooding his cheeks.
It was silly to feel ashamed of this, and with Keith of all people, yet Shiro was. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to find the right words to explain. Or the least silly words, at least. And Keith, sweet, perfect Keith, never one to pry, just went back to his menu, giving Shiro a moment to collect himself.
“So, uh, you know how I was going to do the panel in the black paladin outfit, the whole in-character idea my agent had?” Keith lowered the menu completely this time, giving Shiro his undivided attention. Shiro had to look elsewhere for a moment, the earnestness in Keith’s violet eyes doing him in.
“Well, with the whole instagram mishap and stuff-” Shiro held up a hand before Keith had a chance to apologize yet again. He’d been doing nothing but, every time the topic came up in the past month since the incident. “It seems like people want to see the red paladin there as well, and so my agent got this actor to play the part.”
“Okay, that’s good, right?” Keith nodded, waiting for Shiro to continue, but there was the tiniest twitch to the corner of his lips that Shiro might’ve missed if he wasn’t so attuned to every one of Keith’s gestures. When Shiro didn’t answer, Keith leaned forward across the table, voice lower. “They’re not asking you to like, kiss him or something, right?”
“What? Oh, no, no. No, god, that would be, yeah, no.” Shiro had been too focused on the way Keith’s pretty lips had said the word kiss, and now had to figure out where he’d left off in the anecdote. “Uh, no. No kiss.” He leaned backwards on the chair, a nervous chuckle making his chest shake.
“No, the issue is, the actor has just bailed on us.” Shiro’s eyes flickered for half a second towards Keith’s, and it was enough to see the moment the decision settled his features.
“I’ll do it.” It took him less than a heartbeat.
“Keith, you don’t have to-”
“I don’t, but I want to.” Determination was etched all over the sharp lines of his face. It was mesmerizing.
“It’s just-”
“No, no just. Come on, Shiro, I made that mistake, and this is a part of it. I want to do it.” Shiro saw as if in slow motion, Keith’s hand reaching out to stop over his wrist, as if he wanted to keep Shiro from bolting. He couldn’t though, never from Keith. “Let me help? Plus, it’ll be fun!”
“Keith, I-” He was about to object again when Keith’s fingers tightened around his wrist, and he snapped his mouth shut before the most pathetic of whimpers could escape. “Yeah, okay, yes. I’m sure it’ll be fun, thank you, Keith.” Keith’s face was alight, smile tightening the corners of his eyes, making Shiro’s throat tight, his pulse leaping all over the tiny taco restaurant.
-
Comic-Con weekends were always a mess. Shiro had learned that long ago, ever since his first ones as Spock. Matt trying to pick up every Princess Leia he came across. Pidge left to his watch. Shiro being dragged to every last table that sold anything Killbot Phantasm related.
It was a giant mass of people, in costume or without, in groups or solo, that moved around the place as if in a massive beehive, all in search of their own flavor of honey. It was the loudest, shrillest, most expensive four days of Shiro’s year- the ones he waited for the other three hundred and sixty one. He loved it.
Since his debut as sci-fi writer two years ago, and the overwhelming response from the readers, Shiro hadn’t been sure what to expect when he’d been invited this year to a panel to talk about his most recent work. The night before the flight he’d been a wreck of nerves, going over his suitcase over and over again to make sure everything was packed. Checking his emails to verify for the tenth time that his agent was the one to take the paladin suits. Leaving post it notes all across his apartment for when his neighbor Hunk went over to feed his cat and water his plants. He’d done it all, or at least that was what he thought, until he and Keith arrived at the hotel the very next day, hours before Shiro was due to be at his stand signing books.
“What do you mean you don’t have his room registered?” Shiro asked the clerk for the third time, knowing by the look on the young woman’s face that she would not give him a different answer. “Have you tried my last name?” She nodded. “My agent’s name?” She nodded once more. “What about The Red Paladin?”
The girl gave Shiro a look that said she was not going to find any room under that name, but she turned to her computer to search nonetheless. Next to him, Keith was looking around the hotel’s hall, a sketch book in hand, making small doodles of the people in costume that were already filling the place. He was the image of nonchalance. Shiro, whose shoulders couldn’t possibly go higher on his neck from the nerves, could hardly believe it.
“I’m sorry, sir,” the clerk interrupted Shiro’s staring at Keith, her face already telling Shiro her search had led nowhere, “I’m afraid there’s nothing under that name either.”
Shiro was at a loss, on the brink of a nervous collapse, texting his agent to see what had happened, and how to possibly solve the issue- there was no way of doing so, he knew, not on Comic-Con weekend- when Keith turned to the clerk. “Do you have an extra set of sheets and a pillow you can send to his room?” Shiro’s manic search for any room available in the city halted, eyes turning to Keith as if he’d grown another head, but his friend was not looking at him at all.
“Of course, I can send them up as soon as one of the cleaning personnel finishes their rounds,” came the clerk’s answer, and just like that Keith was nodding his thanks, picking up his bag and Shiro’s suitcase and marching up to the elevators.
“Come on Shiro, hurry or you’ll miss your signing!” Shiro was not staring at Keith's arms flexing under the weight of the luggage as if they weighed nothing, nor the slight tilt of his hips while he walked away. He was certainly not a little starry-eyed at the way he’d just solved the issue with a couple of words and saved Shiro from a total meltdown before noon. And he was most definitely not worried about Keith and him sharing a room, not after the years they’d spent as roommates through college.
He was not, that is, until they reached the room, and not only was there one bed- Shiro already knew that, and was planning on giving it to Keith and taking the couch- but there was no couch. Instead, two single armchairs stood to either side of the coffee table in the small living area of the suite.
“Huh,” Keith made the first little sound of distress, if it could even be called that. “Well, I guess I can take the floor then. Wouldn’t be the first time.” And he dropped the bags next to the closet while flashing Shiro with the prettiest of crooked smiles in his repertoire. “Come on then, let’s get you all set up and ready for Con. I want to go find this one artist I follow on Twitter that I adore.”
Shiro was stunned for the rest of the day.
He vaguely remembered having a conversation about how Keith was certainly not sleeping on the floor, and what did he mean it wouldn’t be the first time? Keith had of course waved him away, pushed him into the shower, and then all but dragged him to the Con, all the while Shiro still trying to work out the sleeping arrangements in his head.
But it wouldn’t have been the first time Keith had blindsided him with his matter-of-fact attitude and quick resolution of issues. That had been how their whole friendship worked, after all: Keith keeping Shiro from his nerves turning into something bigger, Shiro keeping Keith from living off of cheap ramen, the two of them sending the other to sleep when they’d pull all-nighters for whatever reason, or pulling them together when a new tv show was to be binged.
So there he was, at the afternoon’s lull, when most of the panels were beginning and his signing had dwindled down, scanning the crowd for his friend who had decided to wear a Deadpool outfit of which Shiro knew nothing about, and was making his brain short circuit. He’d been nothing but a mess for years now about how unbelievably hot his best friend was. An issue Shiro thought would get easier the moment they stopped sharing a place and they each got their own.
Except it never did, because they still spent most of their waking hours together, and Keith kept a couple of shirts and comfy sweatpants at Shiro’s place for when they had movie night, or working days when they’d be so immersed in their own devices, Shiro would forget all about it until Keith moved and his shirt moved with him, letting the tiniest sliver of skin show, and making Shiro’s writing a mess of intrusive words that had nothing to do with the story, but all about the creamy shoulder and jutting out collarbone.
It had to be Shiro’s luck that the Deadpool outfit wasn’t even the worst thing to happen to him that day. No, the worst had come at night, after they were both sated of Con shopping, and cheap food from street vendors on the way to the hotel, Keith removed the tight suit that had been driving Shiro mad all day, only to put on the shortest shorts Shiro had ever seen him in, while getting ready to go to bed.
Ah, bed, right. There was still that issue to work out.
-
In the end, neither had slept on the bed. After taking a shower, and Shiro almost swallowing his tongue when seeing Keith’s outfit for bed, they had sat down on the armchairs emptying their day’s haul on the coffee table to geek about the comics, stickers, enamel pins, and anything else they’d found worthy of purchase. They had then decided a movie was a good idea, and had promptly fallen asleep on the sofas, which only made for a very sore and slow waking up the next morning. They were certainly not eighteen anymore.
And on the very day of the panel too, regrets were clear in the tired lines of their faces and bags under their eyes as they got ready to hit the Con again. Luckily, they wouldn’t have to get in costume until they arrived there, so Shiro decided a detour to the nearest Starbucks was due, and by the time they got backstage, both he and Keith were looking more or less human.
“Shiro, you should’ve told me your red paladin actor had changed!” Allura, his costume designer, for as sweet as she was, swatted Shiro on the arm on the way to help him properly fit the paladin ‘armor’. “And that he was so good looking, too,” she added on the low, not at all missing the heat on Shiro’s face if her smile was anything to go by.
“Ah, I, um… sorry.” Shiro’s hand rubbed nervously at the back of his neck, eyes darting to where Keith was trying on the helmet on the other side of the room. He’d purposely moved away when they were fitting the black tight suit that went under the white paddings, trying to avoid a repeat of the previous day with Shiro losing speech over the Deadpool fake leather outfit. “I figured Coran would’ve told you.”
“He never tells me anything,” she waved away, more focused on adjusting the costume than she seemed worried. “We’re lucky he’s so fit, or I don’t know what we would’ve done.” Her eyes told Shiro she was not done with the prodding about his best friend, and almost decade-long crush. “So… I saw that drawing the other day.”
“Which one?” It was not as if he was going to get away with it, Shiro was aware, but it also didn’t hurt to try.
“Oh, you know the one… Your friend Matt sent it to me. And then Coran. And a couple of people that I make outfits for, that knew I was making yours and are here today.” On the years he’d come to the Con, Shiro had worn many different outfits, all varying in fabrics and composition, yet none- not even that one Chewbacca year with young Pidge as Leia and Matt as Han Solo- had made him feel on literal fire. “This red paladin of yours looks suspiciously similar to Akira if you ask me.”
“His name is Keith.”
“Oh, Keith it is, then.” Now Shiro knew his suit was done, and Allura was just keeping her hands busy on him to stretch the conversation. But unless he wanted to go explain to Keith why he was blushing scarlet, he had nowhere else to go to. “So he’s your artist boy.”
“He’s not mine .” He all but hissed, praying to whomever that Keith couldn’t hear a word under his helmet.
“ Yet .” Allura’s gaze was full of mischief, and for some reason Shiro thought, knowledge. As if she had some secret information. “Okay then, you paladins are all set!” She patted Shiro’s arm, voice loud enough to draw Keith’s attention to them. Shiro hurried to get his helmet on, hoping it would disguise his flushed cheeks.
As if on cue, the panel organizer walked in, letting the two of them know that it was only a couple of minutes until they were announced.
“Hey.” Keith’s voice was low when he approached Shiro, shy almost, eyes set on Allura standing at his side.
Shiro took advantage of that to properly see him in costume. Stars, he looked stunning. The very image of Akira, and all those comments on how Shiro had inadvertently woven a love story into his mecha sci-fi series came rushing back. Exactly how much had Keith figured out, and why hadn’t he said anything with all the tweaks and changes Shiro had asked on Akira’s design?
“You, uh, you look good. The suit, I mean- not that you don’t, but-” He was a complete disaster, and he didn’t need Allura’s poorly masked laugh as a cough to let him know.
“Yeah, you too.” Keith returned the compliment with far more grace, as anything he did.
“Okay Voltron, you’re up!” The organizer called them from the top of the short stairs. Shiro’s hand was sweating in his glove, suddenly remembering what he was there for all along- nothing that had to do with ogling his friend.
“Go on then.” Allura gave him a little push on the back, a sweet smile aimed Keith’s way, and a wink towards Shiro. “Go, be great.”
The audience was loud as Shiro and Keith stepped up on the stage, clapping and cheering. Not a second in, ‘Svenira’ was shouted at them, followed by several ‘hoot-hoots’. It was overwhelming in the best way. Shiro’s heart swelled with the sight of the people that had not only read his books, but made the time to come listen to him talk about it. His gaze moved to Keith on its own, just for a moment, his friend’s face the clear image of pride, and damn if that wasn’t a remarkable vision Shiro would cherish forever. When the moderator finished his prepared words, Shiro and Keith did their practiced salute to the crowd, and- helmets under their arms- moved to take a seat behind the table setup.
The panel was- well, for the majority of the time- it was perfect. Shiro had agreed to making it in-character because his agent was eccentric like that, and he knew how much Con-attendees loved it when actors did it. He’d been there for Tom Hiddleston as Loki, after all. He had definitely not expected that he- a little-known sci-fi author- would have even half of that excitement from the audience, yet he’d been pleasantly surprised.
The first part was the easiest, since it involved answering questions prearranged by the moderator, which both Shiro and Keith had practiced the answers to as if they’d been preparing for an exam.
Most questions were the same Shiro got frequently in his social media. Who was his favorite character, or who he thought had made the most progress through the saga so far, when was the final book coming out. Questions that were easy to answer,
Some questions demanded a lot more thought, and had Shiro parsing through his thoughts before answering, especially because he knew there were many cameras pointed at him, recording every word he said. Every book so far had had its difficult plot points that fans had wanted to discuss, but Shiro knew the last one had the whole fandom getting into lengthy debates online.
Things like whether or not Sven’s mind had melded with the clone’s, what Sven meant with the things he’d said during the black paladins’ fight, and when they would learn more about Akira’s past were amongst them. Shiro answered all of them with as much detail as possible without going into much detail about the upcoming book, and the fans seemed happy whenever he answered something they were not expecting. Or even better, when their suspicions and theories were correct.
Then the audience was allowed to ask questions too, and well- that was a bit trickier, especially when the first one had not been about the clone’s memory, the prince’s plan with quintessence, or any other plot holes in the story that Shiro had prepared for, but whether or not Svenira would become canon in the next book. Shiro maneuvered it to the best of his abilities, Keith’s hand slipping under the table for a fraction of a second to squeeze his knee doing very little to help his heart, but much to boost his confidence.
In the end, they made it through. They left the stage to thunderous applause, tired bodies and face-splitting smiles, with barely half a mind to grab some food on the way to the hotel to eat sitting cross-legged on the bed while chatting excitedly about the day’s events.
-
Waking up had been a slow affair, with the previous day’s events slowly trickling into Shiro’s mind as reality came back into focus. The panel and the rush of gratification at the people that showed up, Keith in character as Akira answering side-by-side with him, the way back to the hotel, laughing and joking about the awkward moments. He shifted on the bed, hip popping, rolling his shoulders with a soft pleasurable groan after a good night of rest. He smiled to himself, thinking of Keith’s poking at him over Shiro’s sputtering when one of the attendees had asked about some smutty art of Sven and Akira going around on twitter. The smile turned into a breathy chuckle, remembering Keith’s blush when he admitted he’d seen it, and the even deeper red of his cheeks when he admitted to having attempted some of it himself.
Shiro stretched his arms above his head, a warm sensation filling his chest with the sound of Keith’s laughter while they shared the ridiculous assortment of food they’d gathered on the bed, just like when they were kids and had their sleepovers to watch the stars or the latest superheroes movie. And as he shifted to the side, prosthetic searching for the extra pillow to hug to his chest, he found soft, thick hair instead, and his eyes flew open.
Keith moved, hardly a thing, but a lock of said hair landed on Shiro’s pillow. And god, but how pathetic was it that Shiro’s eyes fluttered closed with the sweet scent of Keith’s shampoo? He was beyond cure already, heart no longer on a sleeve, but in his open palm for Keith to grab at his will.
Still, the butterflies slowly growing in his stomach twisted into a weird knot of love and anxiety, a shiver rushing up his spine at the sight of Keith sleeping right there next to him. How- Shiro had no recollection of falling asleep, least of all sharing the bed with Keith. They’d been chatting, joking, and then… then… Shiro lost the line of thought in favor of looking at Keith, a sight Shiro had dreamed of plenty.
Waking up next to his best friend in the world, watching him sound asleep for a moment, enjoying the way the lines of his face softened and the little frown he always carried disappeared in favor of slightly parted lips, and the littlest twitch of his long eyelashes fanning over his cheekbones.
In his dreams, Shiro would scoot over, brush the locks of hair from his forehead and place a kiss to the hollow of his cheek. Dream Keith would then make some soft delicate noise, stir and turn to tuck himself against Shiro’s chest, mumbling something unintelligible that would pull a chuckle from Shiro’s lips.
It would be a slow coming to for both of them, enjoying the warmth of the other, trading slow touches, and few and scattered words, a kiss or two; lazy, comfortable, the way Shiro wrote long-term couples that had nothing to hide from the other, and everything to luxuriate in.
Eventually they’d get up, making breakfast a two person task where they’d be able to steal glances and more kisses, hold hands across the table as they ate, and talk about their plans for the day. Or they’d stay in bed a little longer, ditching anything else to trace patterns on their bodies, and devote their morning to each other.
It didn’t happen like that, because the universe was as cruel as Shiro wrote it in his novels, and he was sure he was paying some weird author-characters karmic retribution.
Keith woke up, a half yawn-half groan guiding arms and legs stretching at the same time, only to hide his face behind crossed elbows afterwards, reminding Shiro of those sleepy cats videos. The need to pry those arms from Keith’s face and steal a kiss was so big. His heart was beating so hard behind his ribs he was sure Keith would hear.
“Mmcan feel you watching, Shirogane, ‘s there something on my face?” Keith turned to his side, hands tucked together between his cheek and the pillow. The roughness of his voice’s natural drawl laced with sleep was almost too much for Shiro’s brain to handle, on top of the mounting panic of having been caught staring like some creep.
Only Keith’s pretty, pretty eyes looking up at him from under long, black lashes was keeping Shiro from bolting from the bed. He swallowed around a dry throat a couple of times and still couldn’t find an answer that wasn’t an overdue love confession. Some writer he was.
“Shiro, you with me?” Keith chuckled, shoulders shaking lightly, a hand waved in front of Shiro’s face. Had Keith always been so beautiful early in the morning? Sweet and angelic, untouched by life and the hurdles it would throw at him throughout the day. Shiro always met a tired and grumpier version by dinner time.
“Yeah, I, yeah.” Shiro was sure college Keith hadn’t been quite so chirpy in the morning, and now he desperately wanted to know what had changed since. “Just thinking.” Was it just classes? Was it the awfully cheap beds they had back then? Was it Shiro? Did he dare even hope about it?
“Isn’t there a rule about thinking before coffee, old man?” Keith pushed a finger to Shiro’s chest, unbeknownst to him the way that the touch replicated all across Shiro’s body. A delightful yet overpowering warmth that could consume him the moment he let it.
“First of all, two years older does not make me old, punk.” It was so easy to fall into their usual banter, so simple to wrap his hand around Keith’s wrist and try his best scolding stare. “But also, do you ever just think about-”
“Everything? How far we’ve come?” So effortless the way Keith completed not only his sentences but his thoughts, shared emotions so vivid in those amethyst eyes. “I do.” It would be just as easy to lean closer just a couple of inches and see for himself if Keith’s lips were what he’d always imagined they would be. “Shiro, I-” Keith’s voice shook around his name. Fear, Shiro’s mind supplied. Embarrassment, rejection, heartbreak. And Shiro was brought back to reality, violently pulled into a decent state of mind. And panic.
“I’m sorry, I, I need to- shower. I’ll-” He scrambled off the bed with no regard for appearances, kicking himself for doing so, but needing to leave the room or risk years upon years of friendship being ruined.
Mortified would be one word to describe the way he felt, especially after he got into the shower and all he could think of was the way his fingers had closed so perfectly around Keith’s delicate wrist. How beautiful he’d looked, all rumpled from sleep, almost innocent in that morning state of inbetween, that was devastating in its own sweet way.
By the time Shiro left the bathroom- trying to stall as much as possible but staying within the range of normal - Keith was sitting on one of the chairs, waiting with coffee and a paper bag that promised something overly sweet. There was a moment, as fleeting as a heartbeat, where Shiro thought maybe Keith would say something- his eyes followed the path of Keith’s tongue across his lips, mouth parting as if to speak.
Maybe he would finally tell Shiro off for all of the times he’d felt things had crossed the line of friendship.
But it was Keith, and just as soon as he opened his mouth, he shook his head, gifted Shiro with a crooked smile, and offered the paper cup that was for him.
-
“Hello, Akira.” Of all the ways Coran’s plans had always come back to bite Shiro on the butt, the readthrough of the black paladins’ scene had to be at the top of the list. The fact that he’d forgotten all about it until the moment Keith walked up to him with the dialogue transcribed onto a piece of paper, was completely on him, though.
“Sven, it’s going to be okay.” Keith didn’t even read it, saying the line by heart, probably from all the times he’d helped Shiro proofreading and talking about it.
“Yes, I know.” He returned, aware of the audience’s avid eyes on them. It was just a matter of Shiro’s mind having been so consumed by Keith for the past couple of days, and then completely obliterated that very morning when they woke up together in bed, that he’d made it to the Con on autopilot. Smiling and answering with simple words to Keith, while having complete debates in his mind, trying to figure out just how much he’d fucked their friendship up.
Before he knew it, they were suited up- Allura’s eyes concerned over Shiro’s lack of response to her taunts- and ready to step on the stage.
“We just have to get back to the castle.” Shiro was not ready. He didn’t think he’d ever be ready either. It had been one thing in theory, when he explained the whole trip and Con events to Keith, but it was completely different to recreate the one scene that had broken his heart ten times over while writing it, with the man that owned said heart.
“We are not going anywhere!” Shiro managed a snarl, earning them a gasp from the audience, while the moderator took over to read the fight scene. The clashing of their swords, the sizzling sound of Sven’s holo-weapon crackling the air around them, as the paladins moved through the clones facility in a dance of attacking and dodging.
They’d been given some nice replicas too, and although their choreography was probably lacking the finesse with which Shiro had pictured while writing it- just a couple of steps back and forth, and easy swipes at the other- the crowd was still enraptured.
“That’s the Akira I remember.” He taunted, watching Keith’s face go through a series of changes before he pushed himself away from Shiro for the next piece of dialogue.
“Sven, I know you’re in there.” Keith’s voice trembled. “You made a promise once. You told me you’d never give up on me.” He was as beautiful as ever, eyes as vulnerable as that morning, when Shiro panicked and left him in bed.
“And I should’ve abandoned you, just like your parents did.” Someone in the audience sobbed, making Shiro’s heart seize in his chest. He was shaken over so many things, he couldn’t possibly pinpoint why his faux plate felt so tight around his chest. “They saw that you were broken. Worthless. I should’ve seen it too.”
“I’m not leaving here without you.” There were whoots from the crowd, cheering for Akira’s strength and devotion.
“Actually, neither of us are leaving.” The moderator took over once again, placing them at the edge of the moment everyone was waiting for and Shiro dreading.
Sven’s arm acted up. “ Sven! ” Keith cried out, as the facility began to explode around the paladins. There were sound effects on stage, yet nothing but thundering silence from the audience.
“Sven, please .” Shiro had Keith pinned at the edge of the small stage, blood pumping loud in his ears. He didn’t want to hear the next words, yet Keith delivered each of them with such emotion, Shiro didn’t have to act Sven’s shock. “You’re my brother. I love you.”
“Just let go, Akira.” It was a full minute before he could remember what else he had to say. Words he had felt so deep in his bones, he could see them if he closed his eyes, yet they wouldn’t come to his lips then. Keith seemed to realize Shiro was stuck, mouthing them silently to him, so they could go on. “You don’t have to fight anymore. By now the team’s already gone. I saw to it myself.”
It was Akira’s turn to cut his arm, and Shiro to gasp a final word before the moderator wrapped up the scene. “ Akira… ”
The crowd burst into applause, cheers and whoots, and they even got a little Black plush tossed at them. Keith picked it up, eyeing Shiro at his side where he seemed to have stayed frozen in place.
After that, they only had a short Q&A left, and it got easier from there. Some questions were repeated from the previous day, going from whether or not Shiro believed aliens could really exist, or trying to pry a little more on the next book developments. Wanting to know more about the character’s past, about their future.
At the very last question, though, Shiro felt the universe conspiring against him once again.
A young woman stood up from the second row, a microphone handed to her by one of the con’s assistants, and then she delivered a question Shiro wasn’t even aware was possible.
“I know you’ve said in previous interviews that you’ve seen both fic and fanart of your stories on the internet, but I wanted to know if you’d seen some of the theories as well, especially the one that claims that Mr. Kogane is actually the inspiration for the red paladin and Sven’s romantic interest?”
“I- I don’t, um-” Shiro had certainly not seen that theory, ever, but even if- he wasn’t sure he could answer that question without giving the readers ammo in favor or against one ship or another, not to mention making them privy to his personal life.
Shiro was still trying to work through his thoughts when Keith, with a kind smile and careful words, was the one to answer. He spoke on no certain terms of his art and how every creator always pulls from real life events or people for inspiration, but that it was a private process that was better left that way. He also joked about how awesome it would be to be an actual paladin, and that diverted the crowd’s attention elsewhere until their time was up, and they could make their exit.
-
The return to the hotel was silent, and for the first time ever, it was heavy and tense between them. Shiro hadn’t been able to keep ahold of himself enough to pretend he hadn’t been scattered ever since he woke up. Ever since a new neighbour moved to the house next door, and he was the prettiest boy Shiro had ever seen, who also happened to like space, and that was all he’d needed to seal the deal.
Shiro could tell Keith was tense as well, awkward next to him, and that was like a knife to the gut. He’d never meant for Keith to feel like that. Shiro had tried so hard to keep his feelings in check for that sole reason, yet he’d gone and fucked it up anyways.
When they got to the room, Keith murmured something about a shower, and Shiro nodded, leaving his friend to hide away from him. He told himself it was okay, it was going to be okay, they always were.
Shiro busied himself ordering some dinner for the two of them, and then packing his suitcase. They were leaving after a visit to the con the next day, but after everything that had transpired, he wasn’t sure Keith would be up for it. Plus, if he kept his hands, and brain, busy trying to make everything fit neatly into the suitcase, then he would stop thinking about other- less desired- things.
Dinner was a quiet affair as well, sitting back on the chaises, a crappy action movie filling the silence for them. Shiro tried to say something a couple of times, Keith did too, but it was as if they couldn’t move past two sentences each. The food was ash in Shiro’s mouth before long, and he left most of it untouched.
When it was clear things were not going to give that day, and before Keith could get the upper hand on it, Shiro grabbed a blanket and a pillow, and settled on the carpeted floor next to the bed.
“What are you doing?” Keith’s question sounded more like a chide than anything else. He’d just stepped out of the bathroom, having changed onto those shorts that were going to be forever burned into Shiro’s brain.
“I’m going t-”
“No.” He moved forward with intent, fire finally returning to him after a day without, and pried the blanket from Shiro’s fingers. “You’re not sleeping on the floor, Shiro, what the fuck?”
“I just figured,” he didn’t even know how to explain himself. Even less under the hurt in Keith’s eyes, as if Shiro had offended him by wanting to give him space. He wasn’t sure how to interpret that, but he’d vowed long ago to never be the one to hurt Keith, and he was not going to start now.
“Yes well, don’t.” The blanket was tossed back onto the bed, and with it, Keith laid on his side, back towards Shiro.
Shiro eyed the bed as if it was his worst enemy, chest heavy and stomach in knots. He took a seat on the edge of it, his back to Keith’s, fingers digging into the mattress. The words slipped his lips on their own, and he made no attempt to stop them.
“It was you, you know?” For a long minute Shiro wasn’t sure if Keith had heard, if he’d fallen asleep already perhaps. Then the bed shifted behind him.
“What?”
“The inspiration for the red paladin, what that woman asked.” It was the single most terrifying moment in Shiro’s life since his accident, and he knew he was being a coward facing the wall, but there was one person he would not be able to face rejection from, and that was Keith. “It was you, Keith. It was always ever you. Akira, Sven’s love. My-”
“Shiro,” Keith stopped him, his voice was shaking, frayed at the edges. Shiro made himself smaller. Of course Keith didn’t want to hear it. “Shiro, wait.” The mattress dipped behind Shiro’s slouched form, Keith’s hand coming to rest on his shoulder, startling him. “Can you look at me?”
Shiro turned, because he would have to be dead not to do as Keith asked him. It took him a moment longer to look up, a second to take a deep breath and guard his fragile heart from what was to come. When he dared find Keith’s gaze, Shiro was shocked to find pretty amethyst eyes watery and scared.
“Keith?” On instinct, Shiro’s hand found Keith’s cheek, thumb wiping away a single tear that rolled down his cheek. When Keith leaned into Shiro’s touch, his heart soared, a small sob dying in his throat.
“Will you tell me again?” Keith’s question had been such a small sound, Shiro almost missed it. He didn’t have to ask to know what Keith was asking of him.
“It was always you, Keith.” Shiro leaned closer, his other hand finding Keith’s neck where his pulse was stronger. “My best friend, my world, Akira, my love.”
“Shiro.” His name came out ragged and wet from Keith’s lips, a prayer, a plea, as Keith closed the distance between them until they were sharing a breath. “You too. Shiro, you too.”
-
Morning found Shiro in a similar position to the one before, and at the same time it couldn’t have been more different.
From the delicious weight of Keith against his side, and over his chest, to the lightness around his heart, the sweet, sweet memory of their first kiss, and the whispered confessions they’d traded all the way until sleep had finally claimed them, everything was different. Everything was better. The sun shone brighter, and he wouldn’t mind being called sappy or cliché for thinking so.
His arms tightened around Keith’s sleeping form, bringing him closer, burying his face in Keith’s hair to breathe in the smell of his shampoo. He couldn’t believe it, a part of him still refused to do so. To believe it would inevitably lead to grow accustomed to it, and he never wanted that to happen. Shiro wanted to wake up every day for the rest of his life with this new and amazing rush that was knowing Keith loved him back.
He wanted to feel his skin ablaze and his body weightless, the electricity running through his veins at every puff of hot breath against his chest, and the rush up his spine that came with Keith’s leg wrapped around his, and the tiny little sounds he made as the light climbed up across his face. The long lashes fluttering against his pale skin, and the spill of his hair so soft where it tickled Shiro’s face and neck.
Shiro wanted to live this day forever, yet he couldn’t wait to see what the rest of their days together would bring.
“You’re thinking again, Takashi.” Keith complained, rubbing his face against Shiro’s pec, where he was sure Keith had to feel the way Shiro’s heartbeat had spiked at the sound of his given name. “You know the rules. No coffee, no thinking.”
And God, but Shiro was only so strong, holding the love of his life in his arms at last. Weak kneed and faint-hearted as he was, Shiro rolled them over in bed, so that Keith’s back was pressed to the mattress, their chests and hips close together.
It was worth the effort just to see Keith’s eyes open in surprise, and steal the little gasp from his lips with a kiss.
It was just as the ones from the night before, slow and exploring, neither of them pushing for more, yet holding nothing back. Keith’s lips were soft and inviting, moulding against Shiro’s as if they’d been made for each other, and he kissed like he did everything else in life. Like a burning flame, searing, blinding, stealing Shiro’s oxygen away.
Shiro’s hands found Keith’s, fingers lacing together as he brought them up the sides of his head, and dived further, intent on getting as much of Keith as he could in a single kiss. He nipped at Keith’s lover lip, and swallowed down the gentle moan that came from it. Shiro licked into his mouth, and Keith took it as an opportunity to suck a promise to his tongue that had Shiro’s hips rolling against Keith’s on their own.
“Morning,” Shiro murmured, hot and breathless to the corner of Keith’s mouth. “How’s that for not thinking?” He teased.
“Better. So much better.” Keith’s lips found Shiro’s neck, tasting, placing butterfly kisses along the length of it, making his heartbeat spike and rush down his every limb. At the very end of it, right where it met Shiro’s shoulder, he bit down. “I still want that coffee, though.”
“I’ll get your coffee, you whiny punk.” Shiro laughed, happy and free, kissing every inch of Keith he could find on his way up from the bed. Now that he was allowed to, Shiro couldn’t help but to touch him at any given opportunity; tuck a loose hair strand behind his ear, wrap fingers around his hip, trace a thumb across his jawline, drape his arm around Keith’s shoulders. It was all made infinitely better when every time Shiro did those things, Keith reacted with a lovely blush that spread across the bridge of his nose and cheeks, making his heart soar.
It took Shiro another good twenty minutes before he was released by Keith’s arms and lips and could make a run to the coffee shop to get an assortment of everything that he knew Keith liked and then some.
Shiro returned to the hotel room loaded with sweet and savory and three kinds of coffee orders for Keith. He was so focused juggling the bags and cardboard tray when he entered the room, that it took his brain a moment to register the place was pitch black. “Keith?” Shiro called, momentarily confused, and then he spotted a little golden shadow on the wall.
Leaving the things on the coffee table, Shiro turned to look up at the room’s ceiling, where hundreds of little dots illuminated the room. Little specks of warm light, some joined together by slim lines to create constellations, spanning across the roof and walls, like a meteor shower that cascaded down to the bed and furniture.
“You like it?” Shiro turned to find Keith standing right outside the bathroom door, all of him haloed by the lights above them. As if Shiro had thought Keith couldn’t get more beautiful, he had to go and get stars wrapping around him, making his eyes darken and glow as if they were made of galaxies.
“I love you,” he answered, closing the distance to cup Keith’s face between his hands. Keith’s gaze dropped between them, teeth trapping his lower lip in a way that tugged at Shiro’s heartstrings.
“I love you, too.” He whispered, his eyes coming up to find Shiro’s with renewed determination, as if he was set on making the words stick. And maybe it was needed, given the amount of time the two of them had orbited around the other without even realizing the feelings hidden in their silly dance.
Later, after their stomachs were full, and hearts sated from tasting coffee and pastries on each other’s lips, they laid together in bed, just like when they were little. Just like he’d written Sven and Akira doing countless times in his books. Pointing at the stars and naming the constellations, dreaming of a future together, and laughing at their dumb, dumb past.
Shoulders pressed together, and hands stealing touches here and there, Shiro couldn’t help but to stop and think about his life so far. About the journey that had taken him to that hotel room that day, the ups and downs and the company of his very best friend throughout it all.
Under those twinkling lights, and with the most precious company next to him, Shiro could see the rest of his life stretching ahead of him, and it was made of Keith’s stars.
