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“How are you feeling this morning?”
Shiro turns to the sound of Keith’s voice, low and rough around the edges in a way Shiro rarely has the pleasure of hearing. It’s not often that they’ve shared a room, for all the other ways they’ve been close over the years.
Shiro blinks to clear his head, focusing on Keith’s face in the low light of the black lion’s cargo hold. He should answer Keith, knows he should, but his thoughts are still muddled. Shiro isn’t used to this body yet. No, he’s not used to having a body at all. This time last week, Shiro was nothing but a memory.
But he wants to answer Keith, who is precious to him in ways he hasn’t ever managed to put into words. Words seem even harder now, broken glass in his throat, but it feels more important than ever to say something now while he can. In the astral plane, Shiro had too much time to think about missing Keith, and missing his chance. He can’t lose Keith again.
“What?” Keith asks.
Shiro blinks up at him. He didn’t say anything, but Keith is looking at him like Shiro punched him in the gut.
“Sorry, I… guess I’m still pretty out of it.”
“It’s okay,” Keith says quietly, coming to sit on the edge of the crate that Shiro has been using as a bed. Shiro feels… something. A tug, like his own muscles twitching to reach for Keith and not quite obeying. He’s not sure where the feeling could be coming from, though, his muscles relaxed as he sits unmoving at Keith’s side. Maybe he’s more messed up than he thought.
“You couldn’t lose me, Shiro.”
“You— oh.” Shiro’s stomach swoops; he doesn’t remember speaking. But he’s grateful, anyway. It’s nice to hear Keith say something like that, offering reassurance Shiro would never admit he needed.
There’s that feeling again: a twitch, an impulse denied. Maybe it’s his phantom arm; it makes sense that even the parts of Shiro that are gone would reach for Keith. Shiro knows what that’s like. He closes his eyes to center himself.
Keith’s hand finds his, haltingly, and the surprise Shiro feels is almost misplaced. He knew the touch was coming, he realizes, though he couldn’t have known. The rough pads of Keith’s calloused fingers slide over the tendons in his natural hand, fingers wrapping and squeezing the meat of his palm.
Shiro’s heart squeezes in his chest. “Thank you,” he says, finding Keith’s eyes in the dim cabin. “I’ll be fine. Just… taking it slow.”
Keith’s lips curl. “Never thought I’d see the day, old timer.”
“Oh hush, you.” He knocks into Keith with his shoulder, the one that isn’t a ball of hot, angry nerves. Still, pain lances through Shiro’s body at the motion and he grits his teeth against it. He’s fine. He’s definitely been through worse.
“Ow,” Keith groans.
“What’s wrong?”
“I dunno, just,” Keith rubs his right shoulder. “Slept wrong I guess.”
Shiro eyes him questioningly. “Must be pretty bad for you to mention it.”
“It just… snuck up on me.” Keith frowns, then rolls his shoulders as he stands, moving toward the door. “When you feel up for it, Hunk sent the wolf around with burritos. Got one with your name on it.”
“Okay. Maybe in a bit.”
Shiro probably shouldn’t shower again while they’re trying to conserve water for the journey, but he’s pretty sure he’s starting to stink. He hates that.
“You can take my turn,” Keith says.
“Huh?”
“The shower. I don’t need one today.” Keith shrugs. “I’ll be in the cockpit. Krolia’s going to lead us through some drills, but ping me if you need anything.”
“Uh… sure.” Shiro watches Keith leave, wondering what the hell is going on.
Keith could eat five more space burritos. It isn’t his fault; he’s a growing boy. Or at least that’s what his mom decides when his stomach rumbles after the one just doesn’t cut it.
The simulation Krolia spins up is killer, and that’s not just a figure of speech. All the paladins wind up KO’d in under four doboshes. Even Keith takes a critical hit that he did not see coming, although he doesn’t think it’s totally his fault.
Right at the end there, Keith started to get hot. Steaming. And that doesn’t make sense, considering the lava is entirely simulated and paladin armor is literally climate-controlled. They start another drill, a new one with ice instead of fire, but it doesn’t matter in the least because whatever is going on is in Keith’s head.
Keith breaks a sweat. That would be bad enough for his concentration, but somehow it’s only the tip of the proverbial iceberg. The warmth feels good, languid and pooling in his body. To Keith’s private horror, he realizes it’s a familiar feeling, a simple one. He’s just… turned on. Like, really turned on.
His fellow paladins call out over the comms but Keith is hardly listening as a tremor moves up his spine. He’s not prepared for Krolia to lean over his shoulder and ask if he’s feeling alright. No, he certainly is not. He’s having a fucking breakdown because he’s gunning down simulated fighters in a minefield of icy asteroids, and it’s very inconvenient timing to feel a strong hand palming his dick. A hand which, for the record, does not fucking exist.
There’s a sigh, almost a moan, and for a moment Keith is terrified the sound actually came from him. But it didn’t. It… wasn’t a sound, not exactly, more like an intrusive thought. A lewd thought that has Keith’s heart racing.
That sounded like Shiro’s voice. Which is even more insane, because Keith has certainly never heard Shiro moan, just for the record. He tries not to even fantasize about it, honestly, though sometimes that’s a losing battle. Maybe his guilty jerk-off sessions are just coming back to haunt him at the worst possible time. Wouldn’t that be on par for Keith’s shit luck?
Krolia clears her throat. “Keith. If you’re not well, you should rest. We can call this one off.”
It’s a relief, somehow, the way she still addresses him a bit like a subordinate and less like her son. It’s easier right now not to think about his mother sharing his airspace, because someone is definitely stroking his cock. Someone with big, strong (albeit quite imaginary) hands.
Fuck, yes. That’s good.
“Fuck,” Keith breathes. He can almost feel how Krolia scans the scene before them, looking for whatever threat has Keith cursing like this maneuver will be his last. At his best, this kind of furious flying is where Keith shines. But this is not Keith at his best.
Baby, that’s so good.
No, no, no. Keith’s imagination is way out of line, because Shiro is not here and he does not call Keith baby. Like, never in a million years. But Keith can’t wish his way out of this mess. He’s going to come and, frankly, he knows by now that he has no say in the matter.
The other paladins already have their game over screens, suffering various fates from simulated asteroids and enemy craft. Keith manages to barrel roll Black through one insanely tight spot after another, narrowly evading the paths of colliding hunks of rock and ice.
Oh! Oh fuck—
Keith growls like a wild man as he comes in his clothes, clamping down on the sound as quickly as he can manage it. Later, when he regains his senses, he'll blame that last hairpin turn for the weirdly guttural outburst that the whole team was definitely privy to. He’ll have to lie his head off about it, because he’s definitely taking what just happened to him to the grave.
The last of the enemy fighters blinks out behind him, the words Simulation Complete flashing across the black lion’s holo-display. Keith would probably feel smug as the last paladin standing if it weren’t also the most mortifying experience of his young life.
Krolia gives him a searching look.
“I need to get some air,” Keith says over the open channel. It’s a stupid thing to say, considering the air in the cargo hold is going to be the same recirculated stuff he’s been breathing all this time, but if he doesn’t move soon he’s going to claw his way out of his own skin. “Uh. Great work, team.”
Black slips into autopilot and Keith skulks down the corridor, proverbial tail between his legs.
Shiro towels off as well as he can, resigned to air dry where he doesn’t manage to reach with his one arm. He’d try harder if he didn’t tire out so quickly these days. Shiro knows he’s still healing and is easily exhausted, so he lets it go.
Getting winded from toweling off would probably grate on him more if he wasn’t orgasm-loose and surprisingly sated. Right now, he’s content to just sit and catch his breath.
Shiro resolves not to feel guilty about what he just did; being dead for a damn long time has a way of putting things into perspective. Yes, he jerked off shamelessly to the thought of Keith, his best friend, and at least for the moment Shiro feels more grateful than guilty. He’s fortunate to have a body that can feel so much— and not only pain, of which he’s had possibly more than his share, but extraordinary pleasure. It’s a good thing that he can feel this way. He thinks it must be harmless to take a few minutes to enjoy it.
And the fantasy was so vivid. He imagined Keith, fisting his own cock and rolling his hips. He meant to go slow, to take his time, but that plan went out the window when, somehow, he thought he heard Keith’s voice. Fuck, Keith groaned, his voice graveled-out in a way Shiro is sure he’s never actually had the pleasure of hearing.
It wasn’t only that. Shiro got so lost in it, he felt the heat of Keith’s skin, Keith’s hands coming up in tight fists. Shiro pumped his fist faster and could almost feel Keith’s toes curling. He pictured just perfectly how Keith’s sharp canine would snag his lip as he squirmed in Shiro’s hold.
It was vivid, that much is true. At the same time, the images that came to mind were nearly a tangle, like a double exposure. Shiro was in the shower, but also he wasn’t. He could see stars, feel the pilot’s seat, the controls— and it felt like that, too, like the adrenaline of flying. Touching Keith, feeling him writhe with desire, was just like rocketing through the sky, a corkscrew dive.
Shiro doesn’t remember his imagination being this good, before. Then again, imagination was all he had for a time. He’s had lots of practice.
He marveled at the feeling of Keith’s stilted breathing, like the man was trying to hold still, to keep quiet even while he came undone. Even the thought of that gave Shiro a rush. When he spilled over his fist, Keith growled in his mind, utterly wild. Shiro’s never come so hard in his life.
Shiro pulls his clothes on slowly, just the paladin undersuit which is the closest thing to loungewear any of them have on hand. The closure is self-fastening and damn if that isn’t one of Shiro’s favorite Altean inventions, especially now when he’s too spent to wrestle with it.
He steps out of the washroom just in time to bump into Keith.
“Oh, hey,” Shiro murmurs, his voice soft and kind of moony in a way he should try harder to hide, lest he make Keith uncomfortable. Or maybe he already has— Shiro’s smile falters when he realizes Keith is avoiding his eyes.
God, don’t look at me right now.
“What? Why?” Shiro takes a step in Keith’s direction. Not too close, he hopes, but it’s instinct to offer comfort when Keith looks upset. “Did something happen?”
“It’s fine,” Keith grits out, slumping onto his cot. It’s definitely not fine, though, when the next thing Shiro hears is a question from nowhere: Am I losing my mind?
“Keith.” Shiro stops in his tracks. “Did you just… say something?”
“Huh?”
“I heard you.”
Keith swallows. I didn’t say anything.
“Well either I’m the one losing my mind,” Shiro forces a smile he really doesn’t feel, “or… somehow I’m hearing what you’re thinking.”
No way. Keith sits looking stricken. “You can’t be serious.”
So you can hear me?
“Yes I can fucking hear you, I’m right here,” Keith growls, then freezes. It seems to dawn on him slowly, the way the words that he heard didn’t actually make a sound, though Keith heard the message loud and clear. Oh no, please no.
“It’s okay, Keith,” Shiro soothes. “It’ll be okay.” It’s hardly the worst thing they’ve been up against together, he reasons to himself. Deep down, he knows there’s nothing he wouldn’t share with Keith.
As he thinks the words, Shiro gets a kind of queasy feeling in response, like being on the verge of a panic attack. He feels hot, too, or he’s remembering the feeling, one of heat and spine-tingling pleasure—
Oh, fuck.
“Were you… in the shower, just now?” Keith asks. He looks upset. He still won’t look at Shiro’s face, but he’s thinking it loud enough for both of them to hear: Keith struggling for breath, Keith growling, Keith coming in his clothes.
“Shit.” Shiro staggers backward, nearly tripping over his own pallet bed. It jars his shoulder and they both hiss from the sting. “God, Keith, you felt that?”
Keith does look at him, then, his expression deadpan. You mean the pain or the orgasm?
Because clearly, Keith felt both.
“I— I didn’t know,” Shiro stammers. “I wouldn’t have, never, if I’d known.” He can’t wrap his mind around the words he should say to salvage something of Keith’s good opinion from this nightmare situation. Shiro only knows that he’s mortified and so very sorry.
“Shiro, stop.” Keith’s eyes are fire-bright in the way they sometimes get when he’s angry, or protective. He won’t let Shiro tear himself down, whether he deserves it or not. Shiro chokes it back for Keith’s sake. “We’ll just… figure this out.”
“Okay.” Shiro’s voice is so small, he hardly recognizes the sound.
Don’t look at me like that.
Shiro startles. “Like what?”
The answer is more an image than words. It’s the pout on Shiro’s face, paired with Keith’s accusation of puppy dog eyes.
“I don’t look like that.”
“That’s literally what you look like right now.”
Shiro huffs. He’s a little ticked off, but he knows it’s his own damn fault. Keith is upset because of him, because of what he did, when he shouldn’t have—
“Don’t,” Keith says, “just don’t think about it.” He climbs to his feet, moving like his pants don’t fit right.
Oh.
“I said don’t think about it!” Keith hurries to the bathroom and slams the door, as if that’s going to be any help at all.
Keith has had some long days in his life. There are no shortage of candidates from fighting an intergalactic war, and a few others besides. But somehow, he thinks, no day has ever been longer than this one.
Keith has a lot on his mind, and he has to focus on not fucking thinking about it, or he’ll somehow make a bad day even worse.
They should ask for Pidge’s insight, probably, or Allura’s, but neither of them are willing to face the subject of how and when they first found out, so they don’t. Keith figures their lion bond has got to be responsible for the thoughts and feelings seeping between them. It’s strongest when Keith is piloting Black and using his bond, which is also the worst time for it; he struggles to keep a clear head with the team and his flying, especially when the thoughts that ping through from Shiro feel so… personal.
It’s intimate in a way Keith could never have prepared for. Not in a sexual way— Shiro definitely hasn’t repeated that performance since they figured out what was actually happening to them. But somehow, Shiro’s fears are almost more intimate.
Shiro shares more with Keith than most, but he’s used to deciding how much and when. It’s not hard to imagine how unsettling this must be, losing that control. And Keith doesn’t need to imagine anything when he’s there to witness it first-hand.
Keith tries not to listen, but he needs the bond to lead Voltron, and it’s not a simple matter to unlearn years of giving Shiro his undivided attention. Keith is a creature of instinct, impulse, and he’s been drawn to Shiro like a moth to a flame for as long as he can remember.
Some things are just none of Keith’s business, like what Shiro and his left hand get up to alone, and what he fantasizes about in private. And Shiro’s mind keeps going back there, again and again in a loop of anxious and self-critical thoughts. Keith only gets it in fragments, but the fact remains that Shiro’s mind just never slows down. Keith files that unexpected fact away for examination, later, sometime when he’s not at risk of broadcasting every errant thought like he is right now.
Shiro recoils from the knowledge that Keith heard him in an intimate moment, and it may be stupid, but it hurts worse than Keith will admit. It’s probably the closest he’ll ever get to being with Shiro, and it feels like something ending before it ever began.
Just once, Keith catches himself wondering who Shiro pictures when he says baby like he did then… not that it matters. He chokes it back down.
And when Keith has to fly, which is most of the time, the task falls to Shiro to try and tune out the black lion and, therefore, Keith. He manages it to a certain extent, dampening their nascent connection enough to save them both from seeing and hearing more than they should. But things still slip through.
Keith starts paying attention when Shiro exchanges a few words with Krolia. They’re out of earshot, but Keith catches the drift through their mindspace: she’s thanking Shiro for being there for Keith. The emotion that swells in Shiro’s chest is so big it’s almost stifling. Pride. Keith bites the inside of his cheek, blinking back the prickle of tears.
Keith knows Shiro is proud of him, but god, to feel it like that? It’s overwhelming.
When the two of them hug, Keith feels how Shiro’s shoulder throbs and how good he feels in spite of that. Shiro’s whole being is gratitude. He’s glad he made it this far. He’s glad Keith found his mom, the circumstances of that alone being almost unfathomable. Shiro thinks of his own mom and traces a familiar worry: how she must’ve handled the heartbreak of Kerberos, thinking her son must be dead like they said on the news.
Keith wipes his tears. That’s when Shiro finally notices that he’s sharing again, feeling Keith ache and realizing that particular heartache isn’t his own.
Sorry, Shiro thinks, the word all the more gentle for being unspoken. Keith feels him lay down to rest, and the warm rumble of the black lion’s approval in his mind. Shiro needs the rest more than anyone.
Don’t be, Keith answers. I don’t hate it, he adds, for the record. It’s good knowing you’re there. I really missed you.
Keith gets the distinct impression of his fist tightening, but it isn’t his own— it’s Shiro’s fist, tightening in the thin blanket as he tugs it under his chin. Keith meant it kindly but Shiro’s thoughts only seem more miserable.
For a lonely moment, Keith doesn’t expect Shiro to answer. Shiro feels farther away than he did before, pulling away to give Keith the room he needs to fly his lion.
I missed you, Keith. So much.
Keith shudders through a breath. It’s a little mixed up, trying to discern his feelings from Shiro’s, but he’s… relieved. They’ll be okay. Keith worried all day that this predicament would change them, no matter what Shiro said about having nothing to hide from him. Maybe it’s Keith who is hiding.
I’ll give you some space, Shiro thinks before the connection falls away.
Wait—
Shiro suggests it would be easier for him to stay out of Black’s psychic space if he rode in one of the other lions for a change. Keith frowns at his idea, but doesn’t try to argue when Shiro has so clearly made up his mind. And he has.
I won’t be far, he thinks.
Keith scoffs. I’m not mother hen-ing you, am I?
No. Not at all.
But Shiro is convinced this is for the best, at least for a little while, because he knows Keith hasn’t properly slept since the shower incident. They don’t talk about it, but Shiro can’t help but circle the drain with thoughts of how he let Keith down. That, in turn, always puts Keith on edge, ready to come to Shiro’s defense even from himself. It’s a vicious cycle that won’t let either of them rest.
Keith must be disappointed. He does better than Shiro at not thinking about it— he seems to avoid the thought like the plague. Which is an impressive kind of mental discipline, for one, and also stings of rejection in a way Shiro was not ready for.
Shiro wanted to confess his feelings to Keith, but somehow he managed to push Keith away before the words ever left his lips. It stings, but he has to get over that. Keith is too important to him to let his pining come between them.
Not that Shiro moved to the green lion so that he could stew on this more freely, but that is kind of what happens. He tosses and turns, trying to fall asleep, but rest eludes him.
He does what he always does when he’s looking for comfort. Without even trying, he’s reaching for Keith with just a thought of his name.
Keith is flying his lion; Shiro’s thought catches on the edge of his mindspace, quiet and lingering until Keith reaches out for him, too.
Busy? Shiro thinks.
No.
How is it out there?
Keith mentally shrugs, and the sensation makes Shiro smile. I dunno. Same as yesterday. A whole lot of nothing, as far as the eye can see.
I guess that’s to be expected.
Keith waits, his thoughts forming slowly between them. Just checking in on me?
Shiro tries to hear all of it— the thought, and the feeling behind it. Keith seems… hopeful? Shiro’s heart squeezes in answer. Keith deserves an explanation. Keith deserves the truth. And although Shiro really should tell him to his face, that excuse is so tired by now. It was never the right time, not until he ran out of time.
Can I tell you something?
Keith hums in answer. Of course.
When I was… dead, I thought I’d never get to tell you what you mean to me. I’m so lucky that I got another chance.
Shiro? Keith aches and it hits Shiro square in the chest. It’s not the hopeful feeling from before; Shiro feels Keith’s hesitation, his dread of this conversation, and it almost stops him. He swallows roughly, finding his courage.
Please, I need to say this. You deserve the truth, and—
WHOA!
When the Galra attack, the fighters hit hard and fast. There isn’t time for anything else. Shiro rushes to Pidge’s side in the green lion’s cockpit, catching sight of the cruiser as he struggles into his armor.
It’s not even half a fleet, but the lions are running on fumes as it is, their power cells so low. They can’t form Voltron. They can hardly keep up at all. Shiro witnesses it all through Keith’s mind, too, his frustration, his desperation.
I have to protect them, Keith thinks.
I have to. I will.
It’s uncanny how much that sounds like Shiro to his own ears. But it’s Keith, fighting hard to keep them all safe, propping the others up and pushing them harder.
They fight hard but it’s not enough. The tractor beam sears into Shiro’s senses, bright and somehow loud when he knows it’s silent. No, those aren’t his senses— those are Keith’s.
Keith groans, softly, slipping. Then he goes dark.
Keith regrets thinking he’d had a long day, before. Coming to in the brig of a Galra cruiser is definitely several shades worse.
“Keith, you’re awake!” It’s Hunk’s voice followed by a chorus of others, but it’s Shiro’s face he finds when Keith winces his eyes open to the vaguely-purple hue of cruiser emergency lighting. Shiro kneels at his side, body flooding with relief as he leans over him. Keith feels it like an echo.
So, that’s still a thing. Good to know.
Keith lurches up to one elbow, finding his wrists cuffed. He despises the faint, high keen of mag-cuffs, like a dog whistle that only he ever seems to hear. That explains the headache, probably.
“Did… someone knock me out? I don’t remember.” Keith rocks himself up to a seated position. Shiro’s arm is bound behind his back, but he props Keith up with his hip to steady him. Keith accepts the comfort of it, leaning his weight into Shiro’s thigh.
“You went down after the tractor beam,” Pidge tells him.
“Yeah, and you’ve got that whole quintessence-sense thingy, right?” Lance gestures like he’s making a point, though it’s anyone’s guess what that point actually is. Keith blinks at him.
“What?”
“This cruiser is using enriched quintessence to sustain power,” Krolia reminds him. “Extended exposure to the tractor beam most likely overwhelmed your senses.”
Okay, that explains the headache.
I didn’t see what happened, Shiro thinks. Just felt you go dark. Scared the hell out of me.
“Sorry,” Keith mutters.
“Why would you be sorry?” Hunk makes a face at him. “No one expects you to be invincible, buddy.”
“Yeah. You fainted, team leader, it’s fine.” Lance acts like he’s inspecting his nails. Which is extra dumb, because Lance has gloves on. “We held it down while you took your little nap.”
Fuck off, Lance.
Keith snorts. “Now that’s my line.” Seven sets of eyes stare back at him, with Shiro’s in particular are looking kind of… guilty? “What?”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Pidge arches an eyebrow.
“I’m fine,” Keith pouts. He glares at Shiro. Then he glares at Lance, who is inch-worming across the cell floor, ear glued to the tritanium as he goes. “And, what, he just gets a pass?” Keith mutters. Lance is clearly the one with a screw loose in this situation. Just look at him.
Allura sighs. “Yes, well. He’s been at it for a while.”
“Shush! I’m feeling for a secret passage.”
Here we go again, Shiro sighs.
“You’ve watched too many movies, Lance,” Keith snarls, scooting across the floor until he’s propped up against the bulkhead. “Why the hell would there be a secret passage?”
“Yeah,” Pidge agrees, “cuz being stuck in here is kind of the point.”
“Oh yeah?” Lance hollers. “Then how do you explain THIS?” The kick has no effect on the cell wall, of course, but the impact echoes with a nerve-grating clang that’s got to be nothing to the pain. And since Lance won’t just leave it, he repeats the performance at least twice more for good measure.
I don’t even feel bad for him anymore. Shiro grins at Keith. Never thought I’d say it, but you’re kind of lucky you were unconscious.
Har har, Keith answers.
Lance gives in to hopping and squealing with pain when, predictably, his joints are first to fold under the onslaught.
“Will someone shut him up?” Krolia snaps. Her gaze is fixed on the corridor beyond their tiny viewport, eyes following the guard. Leave it to his mom to be the one working on an actual plan.
With pleasure, Shiro thinks acidly. Keith smiles in response. He’s not usually privy to this much unvarnished Shiro. He likes it, getting to see the gloves come off.
“Oh hush,” Shiro says.
“Excuse me?” Krolia’s eyes are furious. If looks could kill, Shiro would be a stain on the wall.
“Oh, no, I meant— Not you, Krolia,” Shiro swallows. “I was talking to Keith.”
Pidge rolls their eyes. “No, you weren’t, actually.”
And not that that’s much better, if it means Shiro was being rude to Keith. Krolia’s eyes narrow just a fraction.
“It’s fine, guys,” Keith interrupts. “Let’s just focus.”
Krolia nods, willing to let it go. She makes a couple of comments about overpowering the guard, and how they’ll have to wait for an opportunity. When they figure out that Coran somehow evaded capture and might be their only hope of rescue, Shiro’s internal scream is one for the history books.
Keith rubs his temples and tells them all it’s just this damn headache.
Keith also learns that the wolf was hurt in the firefight, saving the younger paladins’ skins. And of course he’s glad everyone pulled through, but bitter at the thought that his companion is hurt somewhere and Keith can’t get to him right now. He grits his teeth.
We’ll get to him, Keith, Shiro thinks. We just have to figure this out.
Keith huffs. Patience yields focus. He meant it to sound petulant, but it’s a lot harder to project sarcasm in his thoughts. Especially when thinking the words just calls to mind all the times Shiro’s said them when Keith needed it the most. It centers him.
Shiro smiles. That really stuck with you, didn’t it?
Of course it did, Keith answers quickly. It’s you.
Shiro blinks at him. What Keith gets back through the bond isn’t words so much as a rush of feeling, heart fluttering and stomach uncomfortably tight. Shiro looks puzzled.
Maybe that came on a little strong. Keith could kick himself, for all the good it would do. When he’s agitated like this, he just wants to move. It’s instinct, to fight or flee; he doesn’t want to sit, feeling exposed, his mind an open book. But he’s got nowhere to go, so he tries to explain.
All your advice stuck with me, Keith thinks. Maybe I didn’t act like I was listening at the time. But I figured if it was something you believed in, if it mattered to you, then it was worth listening to.
Shiro’s expression wavers at that. Don’t put me on a pedestal, Keith. I mess up, too. I know that I messed up—
I know you’re not perfect. I never asked you to be. Keith’s eyes hold a challenge, and Shiro’s chin dips in answer. Through the bond, it’s clear that Shiro knows that’s the truth. But you taught me how to do this. How to be the leader they needed. I wouldn’t be able to do that, if it wasn’t for you.
All you needed was a fair shot, Shiro thinks. You did the rest on your own.
Keith cringes. Wish you’d stop doing that.
“What?” Shiro startles, his voice and his armor creaking in the deafening silence of their shared cell. He swallows, looking at the floor when several sets of curious eyes turn his way. What am I doing?
Taking yourself out of the picture. I’m not your successor anymore, Keith thinks bitterly. I never wanted to be that.
Okay. You’re right, Shiro swallows. I shouldn’t have put that pressure on you. Besides, I know we’re a team.
Keith sighs, exasperated. Not because we’re a team. The paladins are a team. You’re important to me, dammit. Don’t you get that?
“What is going ON with you two?” Lance complains.
I— Are you angry with me, Keith?
Keith’s gut twists. He is kind of angry, and he can only explain that with the truth. This is gonna hurt, but he’s got to get this off his chest before it drives him insane.
Talk to me, Keith. Please?
I need you, I think. Keith can’t look at him, and instead through the bond he feels weirdly like he’s looking at himself through Shiro’s eyes. It’s disorienting, and that’s unfortunate seeing as he’s already at his wit’s end. It’s okay, what happened. What I heard and… felt. I’m almost glad it happened.
Glad? Shiro asks. Even in Keith’s mind, the word sounds small, fragile.
That I got to feel that, at least once. I’ve never… Keith shakes his head. He can’t think about what he wants, not now. He needs to focus. I’m just scared that now you’ll pull away from me. So just… don’t, okay?
“I won’t,” Shiro whispers. “Not ever.”
“Okay, just stop it.” Pidge rubs both temples, somehow, between the span of their shackled wrists. Keith doesn’t need to read Pidge’s mind to know that Shiro sounding breathless and sincere and seemingly talking to himself is just not what they signed up for today.
You switched lions, Keith accuses.
“That was—”
“Alright,” Romelle stage-whispers. “Afraid he’s just one bongo short of a set.”
“Naw, they’re just doing their whole having-a-conversation-without-actually-speaking thing,” Hunk shrugs. “Par for the course.”
“We don’t do that,” Shiro argues back.
Pidge’s stare is a thousand yards, at least.
“Yes, you definitely do that,” Hunk shudders. “Often right in front of my breakfast.”
Keith tries not to react, but he can’t help thinking about it— how Shiro looks his way, over a meeting or a meal. Keith’s not sure it’s really a conversation, at least some of those looks. He hardly knows what to do with them, filing them away in secret corners of his heart.
Keith. Shiro reaches out to him, the thought moving like a caress. Keith shivers.
But Hunk’s right, isn’t he? Sometimes it is a conversation, a silent exchange woven from threads of their shared history. It’s built on trust and a deep knowledge of each other, longing to be understood. No one understands Keith like Shiro does.
“That’s you,” Shiro answers. Keith flushes, wondering what all Shiro caught of his wandering thoughts. It goes both ways. I need you too, Keith.
“But do they usually speak random bits of the conversation?” Romelle asks, fingers steepled.
“Yeah, no, you’re right,” Hunk exhales. “That part’s weird.”
Don’t want to talk about this here, Shiro thinks. What I wouldn’t give to be anywhere else.
Yeah, Keith smirks. Tough luck, though.
Allura hums thoughtfully. “They do at times appear to be enjoying a private joke, don’t they? I recall Coran thought perhaps humans have some innate telepathy.”
“Not usually,” Keith grumbles.
“Wait, what?” Pidge looks between them. “This eye-fucking is, like, legit?”
“Pidge!” Shiro’s scandalized voice is… honestly precious, and Keith knows he’s about to be on the receiving end of that glare for having the thought, but it has got to be worth it. Keith figures Shiro has a dirty mouth on him, too, but wholesome Shiro is a goddamn treasure.
There’s a sputtering sensation through the bond. Keith’s not sure if Shiro’s more stuck on being called wholesome or dirty, but Keith will stand by both.
“We aren’t eye-fucking,” Keith says to the others, frowning. “There’s no fucking, I assure you. But we have been kind of hearing each other’s thoughts through the black lion.”
Hunk whistles. “Awkward.”
“But that doesn’t make sense,” Pidge says, adjusting their glasses in the way that suggests getting down to serious business. “That didn’t happen with the red lion, or the blue lion. They both have two paladins.”
“Yeah! How come I don’t get to share Allura’s brainwaves?” Lance squawks. Allura’s expression is pinched and, inwardly, Shiro barks a laugh that he at least manages to stifle out loud.
“At least I don’t have you in my head,” Keith growls back at Lance. Keith feels… something, in response to that. Shiro’s reaction slips away before he can reel it in and study it properly, but Shiro didn’t seem happy with the idea of Keith sharing whatever this is with anyone else.
Allura clicks her tongue. “Let’s not be childish, you two. It’s probably just that Shiro and Keith’s connection to the black lion is more developed. That’s something we should all aspire to, isn’t it? And, perhaps it’s on account of Shiro’s… unique circumstances?”
The back-from-the-dead thing, I know, Shiro groans. Keith empathizes, and knows the euphemisms don’t sit well with Shiro.
“Also, you’re both more like former paladins of those lions, yes?” Allura asks cheerily. “Black seems to be hanging on to both of hers.”
Oh. Shiro’s lips twitch with a cautious little smile.
Wait, Keith startles. Wait, you thought—
I hadn’t let myself think about it, Keith. He’s quiet, and Shiro’s mind is so rarely quiet that Keith listens harder, picking up feelings of awe and relief. I guess I had assumed? I didn’t totally want to find out, if I’m honest. It’s not like Black needs me anymore.
I do, Keith says. Fuck, he’ll say it over and over if he has to, however broken it sounds. I never meant to take your place, or push you out. I just didn’t know what to do. I had to do something.
I know, Keith. You did what you had to. I guess I’m just surprised, you know? That I can still have that bond. That maybe we can share it.
Keith doesn’t know what to say. He feels bound tighter to Shiro through the black lion’s choice, and it’s a tremendous comfort to be tethered to the person who means more to him than anyone. He’ll grab hold of whatever he can, whatever Shiro will allow him.
Shiro swallows. Keith, what you said before, about what happened, I—
It’s okay. Really. You don’t have to explain.
I think I do. I crossed a line, thinking of you like that, and I just— I never meant to hurt you.
Wait, me?
But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want you like that. That I don’t look at you like that.
Shiro, hold on. You were thinking about me?
Yes? You were kind of there, right? Shiro seems frozen over, unmoving. You didn’t know?
No, I- you just. I just felt you, and heard you. Your voice in my head. Keith squirms around the thought, at the graveled-out sound and what that did to Keith. Feeling a hand, touching in ways Keith could only dream. He’d wish for other circumstances, but he can’t bring himself to regret that it happened, not really.
Something is happening outside their cell. They hear boots in the corridor headed their way. But Keith can’t wait; he has to know for certain.
It’s not like you said my name, Keith thinks.
I didn’t? Shiro frowns like that cannot be true. What’d I say?
You said… baby. He watches Shiro turn red as a tomato as a wave of guilt hits them both, and that’s more than Keith can honestly take. Keith’s stomach is a riot of nerves. Who is baby?
Who else, Keith. Shiro groans pitifully. Of course it’s you.
Keith gasps. And if the paladins all turn toward the cell door in alarm instead of looking Keith’s way, that’s at least a small mercy.
Shiro—
Heavy boots stop outside their cell. Keith bites back everything he wants to say, all he needs to say. Like it or not, right now he has to focus.
His fucking heart will have to wait.
“Look who’s here. It’s Voltron.”
No one expected Zethrid and Ezor to be in charge around here. Shiro least of all. They look like they’ve really been through it, too; Shiro doesn’t remember the scar on Zethrid’s face, and he thinks he would remember something like that, even through his fractured memories. It’s all healed over, years old. It makes no sense.
Through their connection, Shiro feels Keith tense up, flexing his grip and testing the cuffs at his wrists. No words come through, just a suffocating feeling. Trapped.
Shiro tries to project calm into their shared mindspace even as he keeps his wary eyes on their captors, trying to anticipate their movements. Shiro wishes all of a sudden that he’d stood in front of the others, to protect them if he can. Keith seems to be thinking the same thing, though neither of them move.
As the questions start, Shiro’s instincts tell him that the goal here is to intimidate, mostly. But he also knows that these two are not above a little brass tacks. It seems they want information, but their angle makes no sense.
“Where have you been all this time?” Zethrid snarls.
“What are you talking about?” Shiro asks.
“Your little disappearing act,” Ezor grins, flipping her hair- um, tentacle.
Nothing seems to satisfy them, and Shiro feels Keith preparing his body for a fight, just in case. But Keith is not the powder keg he may have once been. He’s ready, but he’s also cautious, protective. The need to keep them all safe stays Keith’s hand.
You in my head again, Shirogane?
Never left.
Good. Lend me some of your patience. These two are on my last nerve.
On the contrary, I think I’m leaning on your patience right now.
Keith doesn’t turn his head, but when he grins it’s a dark, dangerous look. Shiro catches it out of the corner of his eye.
They’re going to threaten someone, Keith thinks. Soon.
Yeah, I thought the same. They’ll decide they need more leverage. Have you been able to reach Black?
No. I’ve been trying. She must be here, though, right? Else how are we connected to each other right now? But she’s just so quiet.
“If you insist on maintaining this charade of innocence, you leave us no choice but to apply pressure.” Zethrid punches her own palm as if to demonstrate the kind of pressure she means.
“Finally!” Ezor flashes a sadistic grin. “The fun part.”
Keith purses his lips. What if we both try? We both have the bond.
You think that would help?
Of course I do.
Shiro doesn’t know why he’s reluctant, other than his fear of learning the truth. Maybe they all have it wrong; maybe the black lion will reject him, now that she has a new paladin.
He feels Keith’s disapproval in his mind, but old habits die hard. He can’t quite help it.
I’m sure you’re strong enough to reach her, Shiro thinks. More than strong enough.
But it’s not about that, Shiro. It’s about… being stronger together. Don’t you think so?
Together?
Shiro feels everything slow down. It doesn’t feel like they are talking about the lions anymore. It’s not just Keith’s words, but the fragile hope in Keith’s unspoken tone. He wants Shiro to give it a chance. To give him a chance.
Shiro doesn’t think they’re stronger together, he knows they are. As much as it scares him, what he feels for Keith is the most powerful thing he’s ever known. It brought Shiro back to himself through literal hell— terror, torture, even death. Loving Keith is so tremendous, he can’t even hold it… Not on his own.
But Keith is asking him to share it. Shiro didn’t see that before, but now he knows that’s what Keith means.
I love you, Shiro tells him. Keith, I love you so much.
In their minds, gold eyes flare to life and the black lion raises her head. They see the hangar now, where the other lions are climbing to their feet. They’re going to tear a hole in the cruiser’s hull, following Black’s lead. That should shake things up a bit, enough for them to make a break for it. The lions will tear the ship inside out, if they have to.
Shiro feels the black lion’s intention, her conviction. And within that, he feels Keith’s, standing with Shiro. Together, they’re unstoppable.
Shiro’s lips curve into a smile.
“Ew, what’s happening to his face?” Ezor points at Shiro and pretends to wretch into her sleeve. Her humor doesn’t last when the cruiser’s klaxon sends them scrambling. “Oh quiznack, what now?”
“Oh, you know. The power of teamwork,” Shiro says. Mentally, Keith rolls his eyes.
Then the lions roar.
It’s vargas later when Keith manages a quiet minute to himself. They’re hunkered down on a dusty planet. Around the campfire, Acxa caught them up on everything they’d missed, or as well as anyone could fill in for three missing years and the scale of the power vacuum in the universe.
Boarding the black lion, Keith moves quickly toward the cabin to peel himself out of his gear. He can’t wait to shed every piece of it, shower off and finally sleep. He’s halfway stripped down when he hears Shiro’s footsteps down the corridor behind him. He’d know it was Shiro, anyway, by the nervous flutter he gets in his chest.
“Shiro,” Keith starts, fingers frozen where the undersuit opens at the nape of his neck. “I thought you went to the green lion.”
Shiro gestures with the bedroll he’s clutching along with his helmet. “Just to, uh, get my things.”
“Oh.”
“Um.”
“Shiro, I—”
“Keith, wait.” Shiro is standing closer all of a sudden, close enough to send Keith’s heart hammering so high it might as well be in his throat. Shiro puts down what he’s carrying, and in the low light cast by the paladin armor, Keith sees Shiro’s eyes are glassy. “We need to talk. I did this all out of order.”
“Kinda, yeah.”
“Together. You said… together.” Shiro holds his gaze, soft and searching. “I want that.”
Keith makes a sound. His words feel stuck, and not for lack of wanting. It’s all he wants. Keith nods his head instead, a jerky motion like wrestling a joystick, hardly managing to pull up out of free-fall.
He nods, and feels Shiro’s relief.
“It was my first thought, waking up. After I died.” Shiro says the word carefully, watching Keith’s expression and gauging how honest he can be right now.
Completely, Keith decides; Shiro’s gratitude wafts over him in response.
“I woke up thinking that I had to tell you. That I’d already had more than my share of second chances.”
“Shiro,” Keith breathes his name. It hurts, the knowledge of how close Keith came to losing everything. But Shiro is right, of course. It’s good to remember how lucky they are.
“I want to be with you. I don’t know if that’s selfish, Keith, but I— I can’t let you go.”
“Then don’t.” Please don’t.
Shiro’s smile is slow and spreading. Keith’s rib cage feels far too tight, like he can’t contain all of the things he’s trying to feel.
Does that mean I can kiss you? Shiro asks, too shy for words.
Keith breathes a laugh, moving to close the distance until he’s pillowed against the man’s chest and his lips slot against Shiro’s.
Yes, Keith thinks, his head fuzzy with adrenaline. He’s never actually kissed anyone before. Shiro’s lips are broad and soft, softer than Keith’s, and he aches at the way they slide together. He moves against Shiro just to feel the rush of it, addicted. Before Keith can question whether he’s doing anything right, Shiro’s sigh stutters against his mouth and he pulls Keith closer.
Perfect, Shiro thinks. This is just perfect.
That’s enough encouragement for Keith. He steers them to his pallet, peeling away pieces of Shiro’s dusty armor between frantic, messy kisses. Keith wants it off, all of it— he wants to feel Shiro.
Shh, Keith, Shiro soothes with his thoughts. It’s okay. Remember? We have time.
Keith knows it’s true, but he still feels desperate to feel Shiro close and know viscerally that this… this is real. He crouches down without comment to get Shiro’s boots. Shiro helps kick them off and then catches Keith’s chin in his palm, tilting Keith’s face up.
“It’s real. We have so much time, sweetheart. I promise.”
Oh.
“C’mere.”
Keith lurches up, climbing into Shiro’s lap. “Say it again,” Keith gasps, just before he kisses him hard, too impatient to wait for it.
Which part? Shiro wonders for only a moment, overwhelmed with Keith in his lap and moving against his mouth— like a goddamn dream.
Keith feels when Shiro gets it.
Oh. Oh, sweetheart. Shiro’s feelings ring out of him, soft and then softer as he breaks the kiss.
“Sweetheart.”
Keith’s breath trips out of him. He nips Shiro’s lip just to move, to feel. With all the reassurance in the universe, Keith still doesn’t want patience. Not now, after everything. After waiting so long.
Keith doesn’t know what he’s doing, not really, but he hears Shiro’s thoughts and the hard edge of need in them. He feels Shiro’s wants, the tension pooling, aching for the slide of Keith’s tongue, for friction. It’s pure impulse for Keith to rock his hips.
“A-ah,” Shiro moans, gripping Keith’s waist so roughly it might be bruising. It’s just right. Shiro feeds on that thought, moves him with his grip, until Keith is grinding down hard with Shiro’s help and—
Keith keens. He hears himself after, shocked not just by the sound but the way he hears it echo through Shiro’s mind, too. The connection feels stronger than ever, turning Keith inside out. He feels how Shiro trembles but doesn’t let go, urging Keith into a steady rhythm.
Baby, just look at you.
“Shiro,” Keith whines. It’s a plea and a protest; he doesn’t have words for this feeling. He’s looking at Shiro, features so painfully handsome, so strong and kind. But now Keith sees what Shiro sees, overlaid with his own; it comes in rushes of awe and affection that keep coming as they move together.
Keith sees himself as Shiro sees him: the heady flush on Keith’s cheeks, his panting, parted lips, and the line of his throat that looks so kissable.
Do it, Keith answers, pulling Shiro closer until he’s kissing and sucking his way along Keith’s throat, over his pulse.
The suits they left on hide nothing, never have. Shiro is openly looking, appreciating every muscle of his torso as he moves and the flex of Keith’s thighs across his lap. Keith blushes with the thought, absurd as it is; he’s not used to Shiro’s thirst. Shiro’s thirst for him.
Their clothed cocks grind together again and again, the thin black material somehow intensifying the slide. Shiro groans and Keith feels it like his own body made the sound.
I feel you, Keith’s thoughts rise through the fog.
Feel you too, Shiro shudders, sucking over Keith’s pulse. “Keith, baby,” he sighs, sounding dazed.
Keith can’t last. His body is hungry in ways he’s never known, chasing his release blindly. He finds Shiro by feel, grinding along Shiro’s length, nerves crackling with every slide like lightning in the dark. Shiro’s grip grows more demanding at his hip, matching the needy gallop of Shiro’s heart. Shiro’s mouth is dizzying, kissing along Keith’s jaw, biting and gasping, overwhelmed with the feeling of holding his universe in his hands.
His universe, Keith thinks. It explodes into stars behind his eyes.
“Keith, ah,” Shiro gasps, body ringing with waves of Keith’s orgasm as it pulses out of him. “Baby, oh fuck—”
It shoves Shiro over the edge, too, and god, Keith knows why. He gets to feel everything like it’s all his own. It crests through him, seems to last and last.
I swore I’d take my time with you, Shiro groans. Even his thoughts come out stuttering and breathless. In my defense, you drive me insane. You have for so long, Keith.
Keith grins against Shiro’s cheek, stupidly happy. That doesn’t sound like a bad thing.
It isn’t.
It takes a while to come down, hearts eventually slowing. Keith nuzzles closer in Shiro’s lap. When they finally move, he’ll have to face the world again, one step at a time. Starting with Keith’s sticky base layer.
Shiro snorts.
“Hey,” Keith grunts. “This is the second time already that you’ve made me come in my clothes.”
“I’m am still sorry about that,” Shiro answers, but he’s laughing. He kisses Keith’s temple so tenderly that Keith feels he could blow away on the slightest breeze. “It won’t happen again. Next time, I’m taking care of you properly.”
Keith hugs Shiro close, clinging harder than he means to. But he hangs on, even so, because he gets to have this now. He really, really does.
Really, Shiro responds, nuzzling into Keith. Then a grin splits his face. “And you know, we could always just take a shower.”
“Together?” Keith asks pointlessly. He’s already getting flashes of the idea playing out in Shiro’s mind.
“Yeah, you know. Save water that way.”
No, we won’t, Keith grins.
No, he agrees, we won’t. Not that that will stop them.