Work Text:
James finds Keith, as he so often does, on the outside of James’s ship, trying to break in.
He admires the ingenuity of his approach this time, at least. It’s awfully primitive to try to cut into the belly of a spaceship, and that’s exactly why Keith’s doing it: nobody expects someone to do something so ridiculous. He’s not nearly as excited about the actual fact that Keith is trying to carve a hole into the hull of his MFE.
James makes his way out into the void, stepping along the spine of his ship towards his unannounced visitor, and stares down at him.
Keith, like always, looks good.
He’s in a new uniform this time. It’s even more impractical-looking, but not nearly as much as some of the other pilots Keith keeps company with. He seems to have broken from the tradition of the others - the paladins, but James refuses to call them that - and changed out of the smooth white and red armor. He’s in something leaner and darker, all near-black with crimson accents, and a glowing series of stripes along his arms and chest. There’s a red hood to this armor, pulled up over his head, and the fabric of it trails down along his arms, held loosely in place by loops on the armor, to leave short fluttering ends at his elbows. Instead of his usual scarlet blade, a violet-dark sword sits clasped in his hand.
The sword is currently slicing into the MFE’s armor, and that just won’t do.
James patches himself through into Keith’s comms - it’s easy enough since he has the frequency memorized - and whistles a bit of the old space shanty Keith taught him. Neither of them will ever admit it, but they both enjoy the little air of adventure that comes with greeting each other with songs older than Earth.
The sword pauses on its journey through James’s pride and joy, and Keith looks up. His new helmet doesn’t have a clear visor like the last one, and instead it just has two glowing violet lights that shine out at James from across the void. “Long time, no see,” he says by way of greeting, and James shivers at the rough-hewn music of his voice.
“I have a front door, you know.”
Keith shrugs and activates his jetpack, heading up to meet James. “I like to make an entrance.”
James lets his gaze slide over to the gash in his poor ship’s armor. “Literally, it would seem.”
“Hey. Don’t be mad. I can pay for the repairs.” Keith approaches and wraps his arms around James’s waist, knocking them backwards through the endless black expanse of the starfields. “Wiped out a fleet with the other paladins, and they were carrying some good shit. Did you want any more weapons?”
James stabilizes them midair so that they’re gently floating together. “I have enough. Come inside so I can keep an eye on you.”
“You can keep both on me if you want.” Even though he can’t see it, James knows that Keith is smirking at him. “I’m a criminal, y’know.”
“I do know.” James looks out at the surrounding universe that’s enveloped this little reunion. This far from Earth, halfway across the galaxy, he can’t pick out the small bright speck of their sun on his own, but distant galaxies glow faintly down at them. In the distance, a nebula pulses brightly, just barely visible to the naked eye. It’s a nice setting, all told, to find Keith once more. “You’re being detained on order of the Galaxy Garrison. Come on.” He wraps his fingers around Keith’s wrist, detangling their bodies, and drags him down toward the airlock entrance.
Keith follows without complaint, which is shocking enough. When James chances a glance back at him, he’s able to admire the gently streaming fabric of his modified hood as it trails down from his elbows, chasing the two of them like a comet trail towards the MFE.
James hops through the energy shield first, letting his ship’s artificial gravity hold him down as he lands.
With infinite grace, Keith tumbles down into the gravity field, dropping into a somersault before leaping to his feet. It’s so frustratingly elegant; James hates him for it. “Griffin,” he greets with a smirk in his voice, sauntering into the airlock like he owns the place. He kind of does. “You’re far from home, aren’t you?”
James slams the button for the doors, and they close swiftly behind Keith, letting the airlock pressurize once more. The two of them stare at each other from across the metallic expanse, silently challenging each other. James says, “I get around.”
Keith huffs out a laugh. “Do you?”
“Maybe.” James leans back against the door that leads to the cabin, crossing his arms. The ship computer beeps faintly, reminding them that the airlock pressure has equalized with the rest of the cabin. Once the alert has rung through, James asks, “Do you?”
“Don’t insult me.” Keith reaches up and takes his hood down. He taps at the side of the mask, and it flickers out of existence, baring Keith’s face at last. James, not for the first time, remembers how much he’s missed seeing him.
He’s changed since the last time they met. A dark scar curves up from his cheek to his eye, smooth and healed-over. There are a few more piercings along his ears, and one in his left eyebrow. And his hair-
God, James needs to get his hands into that hair.
Still, though, his eyes remain the same, and just as intense as always: violet the likes of which James has only ever found in distant nebulas. James takes off his own helmet so he can see them even better.
Keith’s eyes rove across his face as well, and he nods with something like approval. “Have you been working out?”
“Shut up,” James tells him. “What happened to you?”
“Got in a fight.” Keith reaches up to rub absently at the scar. “Got some new piercings. Did you know that the Galra nobles on Naxzela have earrings made of Balmera crystals?”
Drily, James replies, “I’m guessing they don’t have them anymore.”
Keith winks. “You were always the smarter one.” He steps forward, stalking towards James, slow and easy and calculating. James knows that look; he knows what Keith intends to do when his eyes get dark and hungry like that. Something in his chest lurches in excitement.
It has been a while, in his defense.
“Did you not see me coming?” Keith asks. “You seemed surprised to see me.”
“Didn’t recognize the ship. Thought you flew the Red Lion,” James says, backing up.
Keith doesn’t stop advancing. “Outgrew her. She’s a good ship, and the fastest we’ve got, but I needed something a little more powerful.”
“Where’s Red, then?” They have good memories in that ship. More than a few. Very few of them involve clothes.
Shrugging, Keith says, “Lance flies her now. He’s quick.”
“You gave her to Lance?” James hisses. “Isn’t he flying Blue?”
“No, Allura’s flying Blue.”
“I thought Allura flew the Altean Castle-“
“She does that too. Empire skirmishes stir things up, though.” Keith takes James by the hand, but James snatches his hand out of the way. “If I’d known it meant so much to you, Griffin, I would have given her to you, but, y’know.” He shrugs. “I don’t think the Garrison would take well to the idea of their golden boy flying a pirate ship.”
With a scowl, James gestures with his chin to the starlit vacuum outside. “What’s that monstrosity out there, then?”
Keith has the courtesy to at least look offended. “My new ship. The Black Lion.” He waggles his eyebrows. “She’s got wings.”
She does; he can see her through the glassy viewscreen. The Black Lion, now that he observes it in detail, is exactly the perfect match for Keith. Broad where Keith is lean, overtly powerful where Keith is sly, she completes him. Every legend of the airless skies needs a ship to accompany them in the stories people tell around campfires on remote moons. It has a nice ring to it: Keith and the Black Lion. Maybe he’ll start calling himself the Black Paladin too. Grudgingly, James admits, “That’s a good ship.”
It’s a great ship, and they both know it.
This is where he makes his mistake.
Distracted by the sight of the Black Lion hanging in the void beside his MFE, James fails to keep his guard up, and he gets a strong hand to the center of his chest. Keith manages to corner him against the wall of the airlock, reaching up to hold James at the sides of his face, stroking his thumbs over his cheekbones. James lets it happen and loops his arms around Keith’s waist, pulling him close.
So maybe it’s not a mistake at all.
Keith stares at him, close enough that James could count his eyelashes if he tried.
This isn’t the time.
He can’t take it any longer; he yanks Keith’s hips against his, ducks his head, and kisses Keith the way he’s been dreaming of for months.
It’s far from refined, but then again Keith has never been a stickler for the rules. He kisses like he flies: fast and bold and passionate. James melts against him, humming out a sigh against Keith’s lips. They relearn each other’s mouths together, rekindling the feral heat between them.
“I missed you,” Keith murmurs between kisses. “Fuck, James, I missed you so much.”
“Missed you too.” James raises his head when Keith starts his conquest of his neck, baring his throat for Keith to do with as he wishes. He hopes Keith leaves a mark or two or ten; he wants to keep Keith with him for as long as he can even after the Black Lion has disappeared into starlight. “Thought about you every night.” And every day, and every hour, and-
“I saw that you intercepted that scaultrite shipment,” Keith breathes against his neck. “Got the footage when I raided the ship after you did. Saved it to my databank so I could always have it for myself.”
“What do you do with it?” James asks, but of course he already knows.
Keith indulges him nonetheless, biting down on his ear. “I watch it when I’m thinking of you. When I want you. You were fucking incredible. You know that, right?”
“Just a little bit,” James replies, as if Keith doesn’t worship him every time he comes back from the far reaches of distant skies. He smirks, and Keith hums out a chuckle against his neck.
He raises his attention to James’s jawline. “Tell me,” he murmurs, laying open-mouthed kisses there, teasingly close to James’s mouth. “What use does a Garrison pilot have for unrefined scaultrite crystals?”
“Same as you,” James replies. “Especially since I have it on good authority that you wanted that shipment for yourself.”
Keith laughs into James’s ear. “I have powerful friends, Griffin. They know how to use that stuff. Do you?”
“You don’t know what I can do,” James warns.
The warm bulk of Keith’s body presses harder up against him. “Sure would love to find out.”
“Keith.” He knows where this is going.
“Come with me,” Keith begs. “Get away from Earth. We can make a pirate of you yet.” He runs a finger along the shell of James’s ear, tugging gently at the small hoop that pierces the cartilage up at the top. It’s the only piece of jewelry that James has accepted from him so far. Keith keeps insisting that a ring would have been better, but there’s no room underneath their gloves when they’re flying. “I miss you when I’m away.”
James presses his head into the touch, and Keith takes the hint, letting his fingers wander from his ear up into his hair. Quietly, he suggests, “Come back more often, then.”
Keith’s eyes soften. “James,” he says. “You know I can’t do that.”
“You’ve got an awfully noble mission for someone who commits intergalactic crime,” James tells him seriously. “You can’t destabilize the whole empire on your own.” He raises his hand to catch Keith’s wrist, keeping it in his hair but holding him close. He wishes Keith weren’t in his spacesuit, because he’s desperate to feel the touch of skin on skin. It’s been too long since he’s been with Keith for real. Too often, they interact via flyby or comms, calling out to each other across endless light years.
Keith is beautiful and dangerous and far, far smarter than he lets on.
James can’t just let him go.
“I can try,” Keith says. He leans in close, catching James’s lips in a soft, sweet kiss. “If it keeps you safe, I’ll do it forever.”
“Keith,” James sighs. This is their oldest impasse: neither of them are willing to budge when it comes to their livelihoods.
“I don’t want to argue about this again.” Keith presses their foreheads together, tightening his fingers in James’s hair. “Not right now.” He breathes in, and James does too, seeking out the familiar scent of him past the cold steeliness of space that clings to both of them. He slips his eyes shut, reveling in having Keith so close.
“I don’t need the scaultrite,” James tells him after endless heartbeats of peaceful silence. “Do you still want it?”
Keith narrows his eyes. “You don’t? You risked your life infiltrating that cruiser.”
“Yeah, but I don’t have powerful friends like you do,” James teases. “I don’t need it. I’m just a boring Garrison officer who raids Galra cruisers for sport.”
That makes something spark in Keith’s eyes, and he smiles for real. “You’re gonna be the death of me, Griffin.”
“Speak for yourself, Griffin,” James shoots back. “But for real. Take the scaultrite. It’s a gift.” He kisses Keith on the nose to prove his point.
Keith wrinkles his nose in response, but there’s mirth in his eyes, and he allows James to pepper kisses all across his face. “James,” he laughs as James starts to tug down the neck of his suit to lay light kisses where he knows Keith is ticklish. “James, oh my god, you’ve gotta stop.”
“A surrender from the Black Paladin?” James asks, grinning into Keith’s neck.
Keith reaches up to push his head away. “Only to you.” He tilts his head. “But for real, why are you giving me a full imperial shipment of priceless space minerals?”
James leans in and kisses Keith for real this time, wrapping his arms around him as tightly as he can manage. He wants to remember every inch of him, and every detail, for as long as it takes for Keith to find his way back home again. “Happy anniversary.”