Work Text:
Shiro took a steadying breath, trying to stave down his nerves, and caught how Keith gave him a quick glance. His eyes were mostly hidden by his black bangs, longer than ever, but Shiro could see how he was hesitating at Shiro’s reaction.
“We don’t have to-” he had tried, but Shiro reached for his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
“It’s alright,” Shiro muttered, “I want to.”
Keith gulped, giving a little nod, and this time his gaze scurried away from Shiro’s, cheeks ablaze in a flush. He watched him take a breath, deep and heavy, and Shiro figured he was nervous too.
It had been Shiro’s idea to go to Na-rö after the numerous rumors about the festival where lots of rituals would take place — for first loves, for heartbreaks, for lifetime partners. Keith had been reluctant to oblige to Shiro’s request to check that last one out, maybe even try it out, but Shiro recognized the way his eyes had opened in expectative, in hopefulness.
Shiro was still aware how insecure Keith still was after years of being together, as mentor and mentee, as friends, best friends, and then as a romantic couple. And Shiro wanted to show how devoted he felt for Keith. Show him how mutual their love really was.
“It’s just...” Keith murmured, fingers shaky on Shiro’s, “If you don’t want to, you don’t have to-”
“Keith,” Shiro sighed tenderly, reaching to touch Keith’s chin for their eyes to meet. Shiro had to force himself to not kiss him at how bright-eyed and beautiful Keith looked under the blueish lights of the room, “You want to be with me?”
Keith blinked, tiny furrow between his brow, “Of course.”
Shiro smiled and nodded, “I want to be with you, too.”
Keith left out a short breath, “Forever?”
The little disbelief in his tone was almost painful, if it wasn’t for how doubtful Keith was of himself. Shiro felt it tight around his heart.
“Forever,” he repeated with a nod. Then he pointed the little bowl of golden liquid placed beside where they were seated on the floor, “May I show you?”
Keith gulped again, his head barely moving with Shiro’s thumb on his jaw, “If you let me show you back.”
“I’d love to,” Shiro assured and Keith smiled.
Shiro fumbled a little with the little bowl, holding it with his prosthetic and dipping his flesh, calloused fingers in the golden paint. The moment he touched he noticed how different it was from regular human paint — this one was almost warm to the touch, causing him a tingle in his hand that traveled up to his chest, to his heart. They were told that sensation was normal for humans, the paint establishing a connection with their feelings to guide their strokes.
Shiro took a breath again and found Keith’s eyes watching him closely, anticipating.
“Ready?” Shiro asked, almost teasing and Keith nodded, a little too eager.
The first stroke, on the corner of Keith’s jaw and up to his cheek, was almost deliberate, too conscious. But after that, Shiro felt how his wishes started to project easily. With each stroke, Keith seemed to shiver, breath going deep and then shallow, more controlled. Shiro blinked, keeping focused on painting over Keith’s skin the best he could — under his eye and across the bridge of his nose, down in the edge of his scar instead than crossing it, and then up to make a crescent moon bellow his right eye.
Keith’s lashes fluttered close, catching some of the paint, and then Shiro skimmed through them, painting the opposite eyebrow. He chuckled when Keith frowned, but a touch in the little furrow made him relax, Shiro’s fingerprint marked there.
“I love you,” Shiro whispered, when his fingers skimmed over Keith’s cupid’s bow, making him shudder, “I love you.”
Keith opened his eyes right when Shiro pulled his hand away, eyes dark and deep, framed with speckles of gold trapped in the tips of his eyelashes.
“Oh,” Shiro breathed out, Keith’s appearance with the bright lines Shiro himself did on his skin, “Oh.”
“Oh?” Keith asked, breathless, and Shiro nodded, “My turn?”
“Yeah.”
Shiro handed him the gold paint, and Keith stared at it for a second, gaze casted down and looking gorgeous lined with gold.
“Okay,” Keith seemed to steel himself, dipping three fingertips on the paint and shuddering with a gasp, “Oh.”
“Yeah,” Shiro huffed in agreement, soft-spoken, and Keith gulped, eyes finding Shiro.
That was enough for Shiro to feel that the whole universe had paused, for him to admire how beautiful Keith looked with the love strokes that Shiro painted on him. And when Keith raised his fingers to paint Shiro with his, he just knew this was perfect for them.
The first dot under Shiro’s left eye was overwhelming, Keith’s feelings traveling from his heart to Shiro’s skin. He tried to keep still, closing his eyes when Keith trailed a line to the corner of his eye, then down to his cheek, the three fingers soaked in gold tapping Shiro’s lower lip before continuing their path to his jaw.
It was wonderful, feeling every beat of Keith’s heart through his touch, through his caresses. To feel how loved Shiro was by him. The deepness, the honesty, the intensity of it.
“I love you,” Keith whispered, after a while. Shiro could feel his fingers shaking when they go up his nose and to his brow, “I love you so much.”
Shiro never doubted it. But now there was no way Shiro would. And it was a relief that Keith wouldn’t either.