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Head counts come with the territory of being appointed the supervisor of dorm block B. Shiro didn’t need the extra responsibility of twenty-five junior pilots and their whereabouts after curfew, but he’s in good standing with the senior sergeants, and he couldn’t argue the point that most of the garrison’s students look up to him.
Tonight he comes up one short. He knows who it is, and makes his way to Matt’s room on block C.
“I have one missing,” Shiro says with a stifled sigh. “As usual…”
Matt glances at Shiro over the top of his book. Super and Hypersonic Aerodynamics and Heat Transfer. “Isn’t it your turn to find him?”
“It’s always my turn.”
“Well, of course,” Matt says, turning a page, “he knows you best.”
“Fine,” Shiro concedes. He never puts up much of a fight when it comes to tracking Keith down and ensuring he makes it to bed for the night; if anything, this is for show. The more he can keep other people guessing about the nature of his relationship with Keith, the better. Between them Shiro is the one prone to absent-minded small-talk, and he often finds Keith’s name at his lips by force of habit. “I’ll go get him. Can you cover for me if Jensen comes looking for me?”
Matt nods without looking up at him and Shiro, content with that, leaves to do his rounds of the facilities. The cafeteria is empty and eerily silent, and he finds no trace of Keith in the computer labs or the library. He’s nowhere to be found on the rooftop of block A where he sometimes frequents to stargaze, but on Shiro’s final loop of the training areas, he notices the door of the simulator just slightly ajar.
Light is visible from within. He smiles ruefully to himself as he pushes it open.
Keith’s head whips around to face him, alarm written all over his features. Then it relaxes into a disgruntled look, and he faces the control panel again, fingers flying across the buttons as he types in one command or another.
“I’m not disturbing you, am I?” Shiro questions, stepping inside the simulator. He closes the door properly this time, and joins Keith, taking up the second pilot’s chair and slouching back in it comfortably.
“Nope,” Keith answers, his very mild annoyance at being startled slipping into a mask of concentration. He glances up at the screen, studying the co-ordinates of a planet Shiro hasn’t heard of before. “I’m glad to see you, actually.”
Shiro hides a smile by resting his chin on a palm.
“I came to get you, but I can keep you company for a while,” he says, following the route Keith’s mapped on the screen. Keith’s fingers tap away as he creates a path in the stars that can hold meaning only for him, and he nods his assent after a moment. “I heard it gets lonely at the end of the world.”
“At the end of the universe.” Keith’s gaze flickers to Shiro. His smirk is faint. “And I know it does. That’s why I’m interested.”
“Are you planning on going there someday?” Shiro has to ask, trying to pass it off as teasing even as dread seizes in the pit of his stomach at the idea. He’s known Keith to be reckless but not to the point of foolishness, and certainly not an active seeker of isolation unless a particularly foul mood befalls him. “That means I’ll have to come get you from there, too.”
“I’m curious.” Lifting one shoulder in a shrug, Keith pushes back from the panel. “There’s a lot of things about space they can’t teach us here, Shiro.”
“Does that mean you need to find it out for yourself?”
Keith turns a skeptical eye on him. “You’re asking a lot of questions today.”
“You missed curfew,” Shiro says dryly. “I didn’t ask why.”
“You never do.”
It sounds like half an accusation, but Shiro knows better. “Guess I don’t.”
“Why don’t you report me?” Keith asks. “That might teach me a lesson.”
“I won’t do that, Keith.”
“Why not?”
“Now who’s asking too many questions?” Shiro says, grinning.
Keith laughs under his breath and hefts himself up from the chair with both hands on the armrests, crossing the narrow space between them and seating himself in Shiro’s lap without ceremony. A few months ago, Shiro might not have known where to put his hands but with time comes familiarity and with familiarity comes habit, so one falls to Keith’s waist and the other gathers in the front of Keith’s shirt.
“Still you,” Keith says resolutely.
“Alright, alright,” Shiro relents, grin broadening. It’s helpless now, an automatic reaction to the playful side of Keith that shows itself in these quiet moments when they’re alone and neither has to worry about their reputations or who’s watching or what’s at stake. “Consider the interrogation over, then.”
“Wanna try extracting information from me some other way?” Keith asks, voice pitched low as he leans in so the tips of their noses touch.
“If you want to kiss me, Keith,” Shiro answers without missing a beat, “just do it.”
Keith knots a hand in Shiro’s hair and tilts his head to close his mouth over Shiro’s, a soft and tentative gesture at first, and then Shiro realises he has one hand on the back of Keith’s neck and another coiled firmly around his waist, vicelike in grip. The kiss turns heated in a matter of moments, and Keith only draws away after nipping teasingly at Shiro’s lower lip, leaving him dazed and wanting for more despite himself. He furrows his brow, trying to remind himself why he came here at all to begin with.
Keith seems to know he succeeded in distracting Shiro from his original purpose. He presses a smile into the hollow of Shiro’s neck as his fingers twist through Shiro’s hair. “I’m ready for bed now.”
“Is that all it takes?” Shiro says, tightening his hold on Keith in retaliation. “Miss curfew more often from now on. That’s an order.”