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It starts out when Shiro doesn’t answer his call. It’s late into the evening for the captain but Keith had promised to call when he’d wrapped up with the Blades and yet Shiro doesn’t answer. Keith stares at the silent pad in his hand, cocks his head, and shrugs. Shiro was always overworked. He’d probably meant to stay awake but passed out the second he landed on the couch in his quarters.
Shiro’s late to the team meeting the next day though, and Keith frowns at him when he finally enters, apologizing to the rest of them and hastily settling into his chair. He grins across the table at Keith then turns his attention toward Sam, eyes carefully looking over the projections and graphs displayed on the wall. Keith feels his forehead crease, but tries to focus.
They catch up in the hallway after the presentation, Shiro pulling Keith into a hug.
“How’d it go?”
“They still had a few holdouts but clean up was easy.”
Shiro laughs and the dark circles beneath his eyes look darker than usual.
“Are you getting any sleep?” Keith asks.
Shiro shrugs. “Sorry I missed your call last night, got caught up.”
It’s unusual. If Shiro’s awake, Shiro answers his calls. Keith presses his lips together and nods. “All good.”
They’re swept up into the rest of the day, Keith checking in with the team and Shiro pulled into meeting after meeting after meeting.
Keith is sweating, beating the absolute shit out of Lance with the heavy wooden staff Lance claims he wants to learn how to properly use, when it hits him. The thwack of wood on wood echoes throughout the gym, Lance wincing as Keith presses, easily winning the advantage and sweeping the staff down and towards Lance’s legs, knocking him over.
“Do you think Shiro is seeing someone?”
“What the fuck, Keith?” Lance cries, cradling his ankle where he lies sideways on the floor.
Keith just leans against the staff, huffing a breath at him.
“Do you?” he presses.
‘What are you talking about?” Lance stands, favoring his right leg where Keith has swept him.
“Nothing,” Keith says, shaking his head. He’s being ridiculous. If Shiro was seeing someone he would have told Keith. And Keith would deal with the jealousy raging within him in private thank you very much. He’d put on a happy face and be supportive and make sure that the next one wasn’t as terrible at being a boyfriend as Adam.
Rest in peace or whatever.
But Keith hears voices the next time he stands in front of Shiro’s door, what passes for space popcorn under his arm and a bag of cookies Hunk had handed him before leaving the kitchen. Well, he hears Shiro’s voice, animated and laughing. Shiro laughed easily, was prone toward being gregarious and outgoing despite his deep rooted introvert tendencies, but he sounded genuinely happy, not the fake happy laugh he put on for others.
Keith pauses at the door, holding his breath and listening. He can’t hear anyone else, but Shiro laughs again. He must be on his pad then.
“Stop,” Shiro says, chuckling. “You wouldn’t.”
Who would he be talking to? Keith runs through the list in his head. The list of crew members and aliens alike who had stared at Shiro a little longer than was normal, followed his movement with their unwanted gazes, though Keith couldn’t entirely blame them. He had an alphabetized list, sectioned by home planet. There were 29 ATLAS crew members who had looked at, talked to, flirted with, or otherwise tried to smile their way into Shiro’s good graces in the last two weeks alone.
Keith, absolutely aware of the insanity of this list, starts with A.
He’d reached J, James’s smarmy face floating in his mind’s eye, when the door in front of him pops open with a hiss.
“Keith!”
Shiro’s grinning down at him, his formal uniform forgotten for the t-shirt and sweats he’d wheedled out of ATLAS. She’d needed reference photos to understand that the goal was comfort rather than just function but she’d gotten there eventually.
“Sorry, it sounded like you were on a call…” with your future husband maybe. Probably.
“You can always come in, you know, the keypad’s set to let you anytime.”
Keith flushes. Would that privilege change whenever Shiro and this mystery person wanted time alone? Keith’s face heats, no doubt turning a bright shade of red like his uniform.
Shiro doesn’t seem to notice though and ushers him in, the door closing quietly behind them.
Keith can’t help it. He looks around, seeing Shiro’s pad docked and charging near his bed. Hiding the evidence then.
Shiro motions to the couch, pushing aside the pile of pillows he always insisted on having. Sometimes he needed them to rest his shoulder, the new prosthetic back to permanent and sleek silver and matte black. It was heavier than the previous, floating one, but far less eerie and more proportional.
Was there someone else who now rubbed the aching shoulder when Shiro couldn’t rest? Did he wander through the halls to find a different person when night terrors wrenched him from sleep once more? That was Keith’s job, not someone else's.
“Everything all right?” Shiro asks. The tilt of his head lets Keith know that the question has been repeated.
“Sorry,” Keith says, shoving the bag of cookies into Shiro’s hands. “Long day.”
Shiro’s voice echoes down the hallway, reaching Keith before the man himself.
“Please, it’s not that simple.” Shiro lets out a chuckle that Keith doesn’t give a slight shiver at hearing, mind your business, and his voice goes soft and fond with the next words. “Well, you do know what I like.”
Sucker punched, Keith presses his back against the hallway wall, trying to make himself as small as possible. He’d known this was coming, had seen all the signs. Of course Shiro would date again, of course he’d find someone else after the war. It was natural, to be expected. And it doesn’t make Keith’s eyes sting and it doesn’t influence the huge fake smile he plasters across his face as he pushes off from the wall, Shiro now rounding the corner.
“Keith!”
Grimace or smile, Keith isn’t sure what’s on his face, but Shiro grins. He’s alone, his pad in his hand though it remains silent.
“Sorry, I–” but he chases back the words, frowning at the ground, looking at the ATLAS crew and Garrison members wandering the halls. They could live anywhere, on the ship or on base. Keith had chosen the ship, naturally, but perhaps he should go visit Lance’s place finally, stay a night or two…
“Seriously, are you all right?”
“What?”
“You look…dazed,” Shiro says, looking him over. He opens his mouth again, no doubt to suggest Keith head to visit Colleen and the med bay, but Keith shrugs.
“Tired. Nightmares.”
Shiro’s face falls and Keith hates that he’s the one who put that expression there. “Keith, you can always come wake me up. Hell, I’ll probably be awake already.”
“Yeah,” Keith mumbles, clenching and unclenching his toes in his boots. “I should–” but the words fail and he turns, walking as fast as he can without breaking into a run back towards his rooms.
“Don’t look so surprised, you invited me.” Keith rubs the back of his neck, standing on Lance’s doorstep. There’s the smell of cooking wafting toward him, the occasional calls and shouts that come with ten people living in a relatively small space.
“I did,” Lance says, finally swinging the door open wide. “Did you and Shiro have a fight?”
“Why would you ask that?” Keith steps through the doorway, looking around at the brightly painted walls and mismatched furniture that had been salvaged from the invasion.
“I mean, why else would you show up here?”
“I can’t visit?”
“I see you every day.”
Lance has a point. Keith keeps his mouth shut.
“Seriously,” Lance says, leading Keith further into the house, “if you need relationship advice I’m–”
“I think Shiro’s seeing someone,” Keith blurts, cursing himself even as the words are still leaving his mouth.
“You’re hilarious,” Lance says, rolling his eyes. He leads Keith up the stairs toward his room, the floor somewhere beneath the spread of clothes and armor and video game controllers and disks.
“I’m not joking.” Keith says, frowning down at the mess. He nudges his foot through it, trying to make a path.
Lance settles on his bed, having plowed right through the spread without any thought. It’s filthy and disgusting and Shiro would be ashamed.
“Dude, why would you think he’s seeing someone else?”
Keith frowns, wondering if he’s been making up this whole story in his head. “Just…stuff he’s said.”
“To you?”
“No, just…things I’ve heard him say. To someone else.”
Lance frowns as Keith gives up moving through the mess and simply stands still. Lance doesn’t seem to notice though and there’s a shout that echoes through the house, followed by loud cursing in Spanish. Lance doesn’t bat an eye.
“What did he say?”
Begrudgingly, Keith tells him, eyes on the floor the entire time. He tries to spit it out fast, get through all the details quickly so he can know if he has any reason to be upset or if this entire thing is just his lonely (maybe a little lovesick) brain playing tricks on him. It wouldn’t be the first time.
After he’s finished, Lance takes a moment before responding, which is never a good sign.
“I mean,” Lance finally says, his face still twisted in thought, “you could be right.”
Keith groans, letting his head fall back. He’s unsure if this is good news or bad. He’s unsure about anything.
“Have you talked to him about it?”
“No,” Keith says, “why would I talk to him about it?”
“You’re kidding,” Lance says. When Keith doesn’t say anything his frown deepens. “Keith, you two have been together for who even knows how long and you think he’s cheating on you and you’re not going to talk to him about it?”
“What?”
“What?”
They stare at each other in silence for a few moments, Keith processing Lance’s words. “You think…we’re not dating.”
“Yes you are?” Lance says, both accusation and question. His face is pinched and he’s clearly confused. Keith is too. Keith is so fucking confused. Shrieks rise up the stairs, a door slamming in the distance. Keith flinches.
“No?”
“I…I don’t even know what to say to you right now.” Which is not helpful in any way shape or form.
Lance sighs and covers his face with his hands. He stays that way for a few minutes, Keith holding his breath. He needs Lance’s help, which is already a bad position to be in, but he’s now more confused and uncertain than when he’d arrived. Firmly ignoring how much he desperately wants Lance’s reality to be true, Keith stands as still as possible and waits for Lance to speak again.
“Okay, I can’t with you but clearly you need to talk to your man.”
“He’s not–”
“I don’t care,” Lance says, dropping his hands and standing up. He fords the river of detritus that makes up his floor and takes Keith by the shoulders, turning him and pushing him back toward the hallway.
“What is happening?”
“You’re going back to the ship, obviously,” Lance says.
“But I can’t—”
Lance doesn’t answer, steering Keith back down the stairs and past the now slightly smoking kitchen and through the crowd of shouting cousins and out the front door.
“I’ll let Shiro know you’re on your way.”
The door slams in his face before he can say anything back.
Lance is true to his word though, and Shiro meets him about thirty seconds after he arrives, concern already written across his handsome face.
“Hi,” Keith says, unable to meet the warm gray eyes.
“What happened? Lance said we needed to talk.”
Shiro puts a hand on his shoulder, guiding him further into the ship. The touch is warm and grounding and Keith savors it, knowing it might be the last time because he has no right to invade Shiro’s privacy and this conversation will probably splinter their friendship.
Keith doesn’t trust his voice and stays quiet until they’re back in front of Shiro’s door and stepping into the blessedly quiet and cool space. Keith finds himself on the couch, facing Shiro, before he’s really sure how he got there.
He definitely doesn’t know what to say. He gulps down the glass of water Shiro hands him in one go, gasping when he breathes again.
“What’s wrong?” Shiro asks, genuinely upset.
“It’s not my business,” Keith mutters, still afraid to meet Shiro’s gaze.
“What isn’t your business?”
Keith sucks in a breath, pinching his nose with one hand and clenching his jacket with the other. He lets out the air, knowing that the sooner he gets it over with the sooner he can grab Black and fly directly into the sun. She purrs in his ear about the potential journey but sends a chastising chuff about the sun comment.
“Your dating life.”
“Okay,” Shiro snorts. “Not that there’s anything to talk about there.”
Keith frowns. “You’ve been seeing someone though.”
“I have?” Shiro asks, and it’s the genuine shock in his voice that has Keith finally looking directly at him. No one should look that cute when confused.
“I didn’t mean to pry,” Keith says, the words escaping in a rush, “but I overheard you on a call and then you were late to that meeting and you’re never late to anything and then the other day you were talking to them in the hall and I didn’t–”
“Keith,” Shiro says, hands going to Keith’s arms. Keith didn’t know he was waving them around quite so wildly until they are gently restrained in Shiro’s grasp. “I genuinely don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not dating anyone.”
“But Lance thinks–”
“Well, if Lance thinks,” Shiro laughs but his tone softens when he sees whatever is broadcast across Keith’s face. “Sorry. I’m really not seeing anyone, Keith. I thought you’d know that.”
“Why would I know that?”
Shiro tilts his head, his expression a mix of fondness and frustration. “Keith…” but he trails off, shaking his head. His hands are still wrapped around Keith’s forearms, both equally warm thanks to the new tech. “Why don’t you tell me what you heard and I can try to clarify for you.”
Keith frowns down at his lap, biting his lip. He should just say it. He’s gotten this far. But he was so certain, so sure. Especially with Lance’s support. Lance was always knee deep in everyone else’s business, surely he would know.
“Breathe,” Shiro quietly reminds him.
Keith does.
“I…you were talking to someone when I came over the other night, and you were late for that meeting.” Keith takes another breath, knowing that Shiro won’t interrupt him. “And then in the hallway the other day…you said,” ugh, the embarrassment of saying it aloud threatens to swallow him. He gulps and lets it out in a rush, focused on the steady feel of Shiro grounding him, as always. “You said something about them knowing what you liked.”
He doesn’t look at Shiro, tries to give him space to think. But then a soft chuckle has him looking up, Shiro tilting forward as his laughter grows, hands falling from Keith’s arms to cover his face.
“Why are you laughing?”
“I’m sorry,” Shiro cackles, falling to the side, his head resting on Keith’s knee. Keith huffs but doesn’t dare move a muscle for fear of Shiro moving away. “I don’t mean to laugh,” he says, letting his head drop. He half rights himself and Keith definitely doesn’t frown at the lack of contact.
“ATLAS,” Shiro says, wiping at his eyes now glistening with mirth. “I was talking to ATLAS.”
“What?”
Shiro could talk with ATLAS entirely in his head, silent and weirdly mum on just how often she read his thoughts.
“Oh god,” Shiro chuckles, pushing his hair out of his face. It’s getting longer and is starting to curl at the ends. It is not, in any way shape or form, the most adorable thing that Keith has ever seen. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he tries to compose himself, the laughter dying slowly.
“Why do you need to speak out loud?”
“Honestly I get lonely,” Shiro says, tone still light. He grins at Keith. “And sometimes I forget to talk with her silently in public.”
“But what were you…”
“The night you came over was right after Curtis accidentally spilled coffee on the console. She was threatening to eject him like in those old movies, just springboard his ass out onto the dirt.”
Shiro chuckles at the memory and Keith has to admit it is somewhat amusing. Curtis was a longstanding member of Keith’s list.
“I was late for the meeting that morning because she kept getting distracted with revenge and wouldn't bring me my uniform. She rearranged the closets and the shower and was so focused on following Curtis around the bridge it took her three tries to get it back to normal.”
“I didn’t know sentient ships could plot revenge.” Keith feels his lips curl.
“I shouldn’t let her watch movies with us.”
“She watches?”
Shiro nods. “Sometimes she gets bored. She likes you.” He grins at Keith and Keith is certain that his face turns red with a blush. Traitor.
“And the hallway?”
“Ah.” It’s Shiro’s turn to blush, his face going soft pink and his delicate white lashes fluttering against his cheek. “That’s…”
“What?” Keith inches closer on the couch, pulling his knees up toward him.
Shiro looks down at the couch. “She’s been trying to set me up with crew members. Again, she’s seen far too much TV, and she thinks I need to be with someone to be happy. Not that I could ever date anyone on the crew because I’m not about to be sued.”
Keith feels the tiny ember inside him flicker and die. Of course. Not that Shiro ever saw him that way anyway. Shiro probably still saw him as that punk ass kid who stole his car and went to juvie.
Keith clears his throat. “So what…?”
“Right.” Shiro’s face turns redder. “She’s been showing me photos of all potential options not directly under my management.”
“And someone was…uh, what you like?”
Shiro goes quiet for a minute, playing with the edge of the blanket spread out over the back of the couch. “Something like that.”
“Who was it?” Keith is a good friend. He’s supportive. If there is someone that Shiro likes then he should be with them. ATLAS was right, there was no need for Shiro to be lonely. They’d won the war, won the right to safely go back to life. To relationships and families and whatever it was normal people had and wanted. Keith had the Blades and Shiro would have this new person and they would talk and laugh and Keith wouldn’t die a little bit inside every time he saw them together. He’d go to the wedding, he’d be best man and smile and toast and then sob his fucking eyes out into the wolf’s soft blue coat and move on with his life.
Shiro snaps him out of his spiral by grabbing his hand. Shiro was often touchy with him, they’d always been like that, but Shiro didn’t usually grab his hand. Soft gray is waiting for him once he blinks his eyes clear again.
“So who was it? Someone working for the Garrison? I’m sure they’ll be happy.”
“You think?” Shiro asks, eyes narrowing and expression unreadable. He’s still holding Keith’s hand, his skin so warm where Keith’s hands are suddenly freezing.
“Why wouldn’t they? I mean, unless they aren’t into guys. Or humans. Whatever.”
Shiro laughs. “No, I’m pretty sure he’s fair game,” he says.
Right, so probably a human. But maybe an alien. Sex wasn’t really binary anyway and Keith had personally encountered about eight different gender expressions so far. Sure, Shiro had only dated human men before the war, but people could change. Tastes could change. For instance, Keith could absolutely figure out how to be attracted to people who weren’t Shiro. Totally. Easy peasy.
“You should ask him then,” Keith says. “I know Hunk has been wanting to do some grand dinner.”
“Ask him to dinner?” Shiro says, looking down at their hands. “That’s a good idea.”
“Happy to help,” Keith says, his voice sounding squeaky and pinched. He could figure out when this dinner was happening and conveniently be away on a Blades mission for the following forever.
“Keith?”
“Yeah?” He can stay in his body. He can stay here and hang out with Shiro like always and laugh about the ATLAS thing and then be supportive and happy when Shiro returns the next day with good news and a dinner date.
“Do you wanna have dinner with me?”
“Yeah, ask him just like that.” Keith’s vision is going a bit blurry at the edges. Maybe he should eat. Eat and then see if Coran still has those nunvill stores.
“Keith,” Shiro says again, his voice endlessly patient and kind and soft and commanding all at the same time. It’s warm, as warm as his hand in Keith’s, and Keith feels like he’s going to cry with all he’s about to lose. “Do you want to have dinner. With me.”
Did Keith not respond the first time? Did the words not–
Wait.
“I…” the sound is garbled. Surely this isn’t happening. It’s fake. He’d passed out at the mere thought of Shiro dating someone not him and now this was a fever dream. He’d wake up humiliated, Lance laughing over him.
“You don’t have to,” Shiro’s saying, words a little rushed and his gaze somewhere on Keith’s shoulder. “No pressure, obviously, and I totally understand if you don’t think about us or me or anything that way. I didn’t want to presume but I thought I was reading it right and–”
Keith sucks in a breath so loudly that Shiro immediately stops his ramblings.
“I…me? You want…me?”
Shiro grips Keith’s hand firmly once before his fingers soften and his thumb rubs circles along Keith’s skin. “Yeah? I thought I was being more obvious about it but we can like, officially talk about it. And just dinner. Or whatever. Whatever you’re comfortable with we can, or no…”
Keith lets out a laugh that sounds more like he’s choking. He drops Shiro’s hand but quickly slides into Shiro’s lap, all clear thoughts gone from his brain, his body running with sheer adrenaline. His eyes are probably turning yellow, his skin a dusty lavender. He doesn’t care though, he just wants to be as close to Shiro as he can, to know that this isn't in fact a fever dream but somehow, blissfully, real life.
Shiro gives a startled huff but before Keith can second guess himself both of Shiro’s large hands are around his hips, holding him closer. Shiro grins up at him, slightly uncertain but his eyes are sharp and clear and Keith isn’t sure even his dreams could make up just how perfectly long and full Shiro’s eyelashes are.
“Sorry, I should have asked before–”
“Don’t care,” Shiro says, dropping his head so that it rests against Keith’s sternum. “Fuck, I know we should talk about everything but–” He lifts his head, his mouth resting against Keith’s neck, breath wafting hot and wet against the skin there.
Keith gives a full body shudder.
“All of it,” he gasps as Shiro’s lips press closer, the tip of his tongue just barely touching Keith’s now on-fire body. “Everything, anything.”
Shiro pulls back, looking up at him and the height advantage is more than Keith can take, pressing a kiss to Shiro’s lips, pulling back quickly, too afraid to try anything more without really truly knowing–
“Should really talk,” Shiro lets out, eyes a little glazed. “Consent.”
“Yes.”
Shiro laughs. “Not how it works.”
“But I’m on the crew, you said you couldn’t.”
“Keith, you’re the head of Voltron. You don’t report to me.”
“You really want to…date me?” Of course, given that Keith is currently sitting on Shiro’s lap and hard, Shiro’s answering interest rising beneath him, he’s probably correct in that assumption.
“Been trying to for months, Keith.”
“What?”
Shiro laughs again. “Sometimes you’re the dumbest smart person I know.”
“I’m not that smart.”
“Well this conversation certainly implies–”
But Keith cuts him off, kissing him again. Shiro laughs against his lips but pushes forward, teeth ever so lightly snagging Keith’s bottom lip and Keith is pretty sure he only has about five more minutes before they’ll make an absolute mess out of the couch.
“Wait,” Keith says, pulling back slightly. “Is ATLAS watching us right now?”
“Yes,” Shiro frowns and turns his head slightly, “but it’s rude to stare.” His voice rises and Keith swears he hears an answering humph through the walls. “And see if Hunk is up for that dinner,” he says, staring up at the ceiling. He turns back to Keith. “She’s sulking, but Hunk said yes to dinner.”
Keith grins, throwing a silent thanks ATLAS’s way.