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"Who was your first?"
It's the inevitable question, Keith has found. Men are predictable in that sense, desperate to compare and compete, some even vainly hoping that somehow, the answer is them. It takes two years after they're married for Shiro to ask, off-handedly, while winding his hair into a braid.
"Vrek," Keith grunts, and he barely resists the urge to roll his eyes when Shiro's fingers pause.
"The Blades' explosives specialist?"
Keith braces himself for the inevitable response. "Is that a problem?"
But while Shiro has always felt inevitable, he's never been typical.
"Just amused," he answers, and Keith would be offended if his tone wasn't so soporific, the way it gets when it's just them and Shiro finally seems completely at ease. "You lost your virginity to an alien."
"Spoken like someone who pretends they don't get a kick out of fucking their half-alien husband every night."
There's a pause, but then Keith snorts and they're laughing together. It ends with a content sigh, and Keith leans back against Shiro's chest when he drapes his braid over his shoulder. Keith loves moments like this—when he can look up and find Shiro's eyes on him as if nothing else exists, when he can be open with his heart and affection as he runs his fingers over Shiro's jawline and find reward in a soft kiss to his forehead.
"Why the sudden interest?"
"No reason," Shiro smiles. "Just found myself reminiscing about mine."
Ah, there's that inevitable response; jealousy, like acid, simmering in Keith's chest. It's unreasonable and unfair, he knows. The man that came before was never an enemy, and Keith never wants to entertain such a notion. Still… the thought of anyone else knowing Shiro in the intimate way he's been so lucky to come to know makes that acid start to bubble. He tries to keep it measured.
"Takashi, you know I love you, and I will always have time for you if you want to talk about Adam, but this—"
"It wasn't Adam."
Oh. That is… unexpected. The jealousy remains, but curiosity wins the war. It must show on his face, because a flush of pink colours Shiro's ears, even when he deadpans, "Wow, try to look a little more shocked."
Keith isn't sure whether to laugh or reassure him, and so his voice comes out a little strangled when he sits up to swivel on the spot and look at him properly.
"Sorry, sorry, I just… I didn't know you had another boyfriend before him."
The flush creeps into Shiro's cheeks. "Well. I mean, I didn't—" Spreads scarlet down his neck. "That is, he wasn't really—"
Keith isn't sure he's ever seen Shiro so flustered.
(Well, no, that's not entirely true. But he tries not to recall the mortifying experience of his mother casually asking Shiro whether he loved her son or was just looking for a pretty thing to fuck. Point blank. In front of the Atlas crew.)
"Stop looking at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you think it's so unbelievable I might have lost my virginity to some mysterious vagabond."
Keith can't help the laugh that bursts from him, even when Shiro pouts. "Mysterious vagabond?" he echoes, incredulous. "Is that just another way of saying a complete stranger?"
"I knew him for a little while," Shiro huffs.
But his tone isn't convincing.
"How long?"
Shiro mumbles something indecipherable.
"Come again? Three, what?" Keith thinks Shiro might combust when he clears his throat.
"Um, three days?" A pause. "Stop judging me."
Keith throws his hands up. "I didn't say anything."
"I can tell."
"No judgement, promise," Keith vows with a grin, before a tiny wrinkle mars his brow. "Unless he took advantage of you? In which case, maximum judgement and we're turning this ship back around to Earth so I can start a manhunt."
Shiro laughs at that, the sound like sunshine washing over his skin. "No. No advantages taken. He was a perfect gentleman," he assures. "A little older but considerate and sweet. It was just magnetic. He came through town on some job just as I got my first promotion, and he said he wouldn't be back for a really long time. I guess I just wanted to make the most of our time before he disappeared forever."
There's a wistful look in Shiro's eyes that Keith adores… but it also makes his heart thud.
"I barely remember what he looked like," Shiro admits, unaware of the way the story kicks up the dust of Keith's irrational insecurities. "Just that he wore strange clothes and spoke like he had seen the ends of the Earth. I managed to completely embarrass myself when we first met. He just laughed it off though, and we hit it off after that. But it was only three days, and he was gone on the fourth. I was devastated when he left."
"Lucky for me at least," Keith laughs, but it sounds off, and Shiro snaps out of his day-dream.
"Oh baby, that was a million years ago," Shiro smiles, reaching out and pulling him close. "He might have been magnetic, but you're gravitational. The lucky one is me."
Keith doesn't mean to sound petulant. "He sounds like a jerk," he says, and it definitely doesn't come out like a huff… mostly. "Leaving you after? Only a jerk would do that."
Shiro laughs quietly, as if he sees right through him. "I knew he had to leave. I was pretty insistent if I remember right," he assures. "And he was very generous. As far as first times go, I don't think I could have asked for better."
"I don't like him."
"Are you jealous, baby?"
Keith hates that shit-eating grin.
(No, he doesn't.)
"Don't be stupid," he mutters as he pushes Shiro onto his back on the mattress. "Shut up."
Three Vargas is enough time for the Atlas to reach the Blade's mothership and enough time for Keith to demonstrate just how not jealous he is. Many times over. In many different ways. Keith hopes Kolivan doesn't pick up on his half-limp as he joins the Marmoran crew.
"We have an assignment for you," the leader says, hitching up an eyebrow. "If you're up for it, that is."
Keith clears his throat, resolutely not looking at Shiro as he squirms beside him. "I wouldn't present to you in uniform if I wasn't mission ready."
"Don't be curt," Kolivan replies as Krolia enters the room, datapad in hand. She glances between the two of them and gives a look that is way too knowing for Keith's taste.
"A retrieval mission," she says, not missing a beat as she opens a holographic map. "We've been tracing a reality disturbance and have uncovered a small tear. Our attempts to close it have been futile; the tear simply re-opens again in less than a quintant. Using the Holts' science, we have determined that there is Olkari tech keeping it open from the other side, most likely planted or displaced there during Honerva's reality war. It poses only a small risk for now. The world on the other side is too primitive to cause damage should they find a way through, but with time, that will change. We need to find the source and bring it back to this side so we can seal the tear."
"And you need me for this?" Keith surmises.
"Yes," Kolivan says. "It will be a solo mission. Your documented sensitivity to Quintessence makes you uniquely qualified for an unaided expedition. We cannot send a vessel through without risking an acceleration to the tear, and your body is capable of recognising and metabolising the radiation without the protection of a ship. Furthermore, you have...other attributes that make your deployment a necessity."
Keith is suspicious of that, but Shiro speaks first.
"What are the risks of getting stuck on the other side?"
The concern in his voice is touching, but Keith doesn't dare comfort him in front of the Blades.
"Low," Krolia reassures, reminding Keith how much of a soft spot his mother holds for Shiro. She would never coddle him so with a smile mid-brief—her son-in-law is her exception. "Someone would have to deactivate the technology on the other side and seal the tear with Altean alchemy. We're confident the world on the other side will not be capable of completing this before our extraction is complete."
"And what world is that?" Shiro asks.
If Keith didn't know any better, he would say there's a hint of amusement in Kolivan's answer.
"Earth."
"Either a parallel or with time distortion," Krolia adds, before either of them can ask. "We're picking up readings of the Blue Lion on the other side."
"And you don't want to freak out the humans by sending someone purple?" Keith asks, looking at his mother. "Didn't stop you before."
"Don't be cheeky," Krolia warns, though he sees mirth in her eyes.
"Sorry mom," he grins. "When do I start?"
"I wish I could come with you," Shiro murmurs as he smoothes out the shoulders of Keith's Blades uniform.
"I know. You always do," Keith teases. "But I'll be back before you can even miss me."
"Not likely," Shiro growls quietly, leaning in close. They're interrupted by the not-so-subtle clearing of a throat by them. Keith barely contains the urge to roll his eyes.
"Love you," he says softly, reaching up to press a tender kiss to his husband's lips.
"Love you too baby," Shiro sighs. "Be safe."
Keith smiles up to him, kissing him one last time as Kolivan walks to the deployment hatch.
"We estimate that the tear will take you within twenty kilometres of the location of Plaht City on the Earth we know," he briefs as Keith jogs to catch up, hoisting the small satchel of supplies he's permitted to take over his shoulder. Kolivan hands Keith a small device, activating it with a tap. "We expect the Olkari tech to be in the proximity of the Blue Lion, however you will use this tracker to find the source. Do not interfere with the timeline. That means no interaction with the Blue Lion. It is against protocol to interfere with a parallel world, and any changes you make to a timeline connected to ours could theoretically cause a paradox and change this reality when you return. Your impact is to be minimal, understood?"
"Understood," Keith affirms, donning his hood and mask. He glances over his shoulder where his mother has moved to stand beside Shiro, raising a hand to wave as the hatch opens. "Don't worry. I'm not going to do anything to change what I have here."
The boosters in his boots propel him away from the ship and toward the blinding light of the tear only metres away. It's different to the one that took him and the team to a reality with an Altean Empire and Guns instead of Blades; this one is small, barely large enough for him to slip through, let alone a ship. He will have to rely entirely on himself on this Earth. Perhaps that's for the best, if alien technology would cause a stir. Already, his Blade uniform is sure to make him stick out.
As he nears the tear, through the light, he can see the colours of a familiar desert canyon, and it makes him smile. He knows the Blades have already conducted their tests, but he still presses a hand in and out first, the portal between worlds shimmering at the contact. There's no negative sensation, no change to the tear itself when the portal goes still again. So, holding his breath, he grips onto his bag and propels himself through.
It's summer, or thereabouts, that much Keith can tell as he steps out from the rock cavern. The sun is still hovering to the east, but it's already hot, and it's only going to get hotter. His saving grace is that he knows this land, but Kolivan isn't far off the mark: it's at least twelve miles to Plaht City, and he's without a vehicle. He'll have to fix that first to have any chance of finding the Olkari tech.
The boosters in his boots will get him at least half the way there, worst case, provided no one spots him. Either he can go now, with the heat beating down, or wait until nightfall and risk freezing instead. The desert is cruel like that. Keith decides there's no time like the present.
He's two miles short of the outskirts of Plaht when his boosters splutter and unceremoniously give out, dropping him down with a thud into the sand. From there, it's a slog to get to the closest highway, and Keith can feel the sweat trickling down the back of his neck by the time he reaches the state route. It's debatable whether the road makes his journey on foot any easier. The tradeoff of solid ground comes with unbearable heat radiating off of the asphalt, mirages reflecting on its surface like oil slicks in the distance. No one is kind enough to stop for him as they speed by in their pickups and hoverbikes. All he can do is adjust the strap of his bag and keep going, hood up to shield his face from the sun. He doesn't really blame them, dressed the way he is, a stranger on the road coming into town from the middle of the desert in the middle of the day. But at least the vehicles tell him something—if he has gone into the past, he hasn't gone far. Maybe 50 years at most.
Keith knows he's been through worse, but the desert sun has him exhausted with an empty waterskin by the time he finally reaches the city. He has a little money, thanks to Shiro's forethought, but he just needs shade and a glass of water before he figures out his transport. If Plaht City is the one he knows, there's a diner on the road that leads straight to the Garrison—one he's been to a million times before.
He can't help but sigh in relief when he half-jogs to round the corner and finds the Galaxy Griddle sign standing proudly in front of an old, well-loved building. The sunlight glinting off the stainless steel is like a beacon. He's exhausted, but the thought of a plate of Mal's meatloaf or a stack of waffles—just like Shiro would treat him to in his Garrison days—is enough to make him take the steps two at a time. He reaches for the door.
The bell chimes before he touches the handle.
"Thanks so much Mal, I—"
The surprise of a cold milkshake might be a little more welcome if it wasn't tipped all down Keith's front, and he definitely could have gone without the short stack and bacon grease to boot. The sickly sweet smell of strawberries is far too familiar, reminding Keith of—
"Holy shit, I'm so sorry!"
—Shiro.
"I should have watched where I was going. I didn't mean to run into you! Please, let me help."
When Keith looks up, there's no recognition in the gunmetal eyes he meets, but he knows this face.
"Please?" Shiro says again nervously, strawberry cream stark pink on black as it drips from his fringe.
Keith has obviously been staring too long, so he hums and attempts to shake himself off. "I think I might have ruined your lunch," he says, noting the carnage at his feet.
"It's fine, it's fine! It was my fault," Shiro insists, and when Keith dares to look up again, he's flustered in such an adorable way that Keith can't stop the smile that pulls at his lips. Shiro gulps and goes pinker. "U-uh… Can I pay for your dry cleaning?"
And Keith laughs, unsure whether it's at his own misfortune. "Not sure that really works for me. I'm only passing through. Don't have a spare change of clothes while I wait either."
Shiro gapes, clearly at a loss. It's a new experience for Keith. He's used to an assured, confident Captain. Not a fresh face, ruffled boy, tripping over his words. It ignites something impish in Keith. He can't stay, he knows that much, but he might as well enjoy this fleeting encounter while it lasts.
"Why don't I buy you lunch to replace the one you so generously shared with me?" Keith grins, and Shiro chokes—chokes.
This is more power than any man should ever possess.
"Should we head in?" Keith asks, gesturing pointedly to the restaurant inside. "Not sure if you've noticed, but it's a bit warm out here. I could use a drink, and your milkshake is starting to dry out."
It's only then that Shiro seems to realise he's still standing in the doorway, flushing scarlet and springing back. "Right, sorry! I, um…"
Keith can't resist the urge to tease. "Easy there, big guy," he grins as he slips past, moving to the counter. "Butterfingers here needs another milkshake," he tells the wrinkled manager at the grill, slapping down a faded twenty from his satchel as Shiro follows him like a lost puppy. "And he wants waffles this time, fried egg on the side, trust me."
"A-actually, I usually just go for the griddle cakes—"
"Trust me," Keith asserts with a grin. He's been dragged here enough times during his Garrison days—for birthdays, new records and after final exams. Shiro's favourite order is seared in Keith's memory like one of the greasy burgers on Old Mal's grill. "Don't forget the maple syrup before you go."
He turns to make his way to the bathroom, to try to salvage his uniform as best he can, but he pauses, glancing back to where Shiro still stands frozen in place.
"What's the occasion?" Keith asks, because the Griddle has never been a regular, run-of-the-mill stop for them.
Shiro's eyes go wide, and he reaches—subconsciously, Keith suspects—to grasp at the lapel of his grey jacket. "I graduated from the officers academy," he says, sounding dazed.
Nineteen then, Keith guesses. About fifteen years ago, give or take. Seventeen, if he's working off of his own unique clock. Still not nearly as far back as he first guessed. None of that matters though, because he's here on a day where Shiro took another step to realising his dream of space, despite the odds. That stirs something warm in his chest.
"Congratulations, big guy," he says, softer than he intends, before turning back and throwing a wave behind him. "Enjoy the waffles."
At the bathroom sink, he removes his gloves and splashes water on his face before he even touches his coat. As the encounter sinks in, he finds his knuckles bleaching on the porcelain rim, breath shaky on the exhale. A Shiro before everything—before the captivity and the battles. Before Voltron. Before him. Just a young man with jet black hair, untouched skin, flesh beyond his right shoulder, and a dream… with no idea of what's to come. And he can't tell him, not without influencing the future, not without risking his present.
"Minimal impact," he reminds the mirror, before reaching for a paper towel to clean up the stain and smell of strawberries. Seeing Shiro was an unexpected gift, but he has a job to do, without interfering in the past.
Maybe it's too late, Keith muses with a quiet laugh to himself as he gives up and peels off the arms of his robe of his uniform to run it under the water. Maybe, he thinks—through no fault of his own—he is the reason Shiro loves the Galaxy Griddle's bacon waffles with fried eggs so much. It will be a good story to tell Shiro when he returns.
Tying his sleeves around his waist, he decides his undersuit will have to make do until the coat dries. It shouldn't take long; it has to be at least 115 degrees out there by now. He'll need at least a gallon of water to take with him when he goes looking for the Olkari tech. Maybe two, and enough gas to make sure he doesn't get a hoverbike stuck out in the desert, once he finds one.
The scurry of someone stumbling to their feet drags Keith's attention back, and to his surprise, he finds Shiro jumping out from one of the window booths, clearly waiting for him.
"I wasn't sure what you'd like, so I got you the same."
Keith blinks, and so Shiro gestures hastily to the spread on the table, where a second plate and glass awaits. It's sweet and awkward and so, so endearing, and Keith can't help the huff of amusement as he draws near.
"...You didn't have to, you know," Keith says after a moment. "I was just going to grab a coffee and be on my way."
He shouldn't do this. It would be a mistake to linger. He has a job to do and a history to preserve, and Kolivan has tried endlessly to beat the message of emotional detachment into his head again and again and again. But Keith, as always, is only human… At least as far as the saying goes.
There's a beat of silence, and so he looks back to Shiro, catching him as his eyes flick up from his undersuit. It doesn't leave much to the imagination—he knows because Shiro has said as much to him before—and Shiro, this Shiro seems to wither at being caught in the act when he finds Keith's eyes. He gestures again to the table, this time with a little more desperation.
"My way of saying sorry?" Shiro blurts hastily. "Please, I can't eat this much on my own."
A bald-faced lie, but Keith doesn't dare protest. Instead, he tries to smother a smirk and tilts his head in a gesture of acceptance, dropping his bag and lowering himself demurely into the booth while Shiro all but tumbles into his side of the table, relief in his face.
"I'm Shiro, by the way."
I know, Keith thinks wryly, but then he has a moment of panic. Shit, he can't reveal his name. Shiro might forget this face in time, but it will only be a few years before they meet in this timeline, and there are only so many Keiths in this part of the world.
"Akira," Keith rushes out, the first name he can think of that doesn't tie to anyone else, but Shiro's eyes light up too eagerly.
"Like the film?" he asks, and Keith almost groans. Right. Of course he would unconsciously pick something near and dear to Shiro's heart. It's a miracle he manages to turn it into hum in agreement instead.
"Sorry, you probably get that a lot," Shiro laughs nervously. "It's just my first name is Takashi, like the esper kid that pops up right at the beginning. What a weird coincidence, huh?"
God, Keith really doesn't remember him being this dorky when he was young. It's fatally adorable.
"Um, but my friends call me Shiro, so you can call me Shiro."
He's rambling, and Keith can't resist getting in one last tease.
"Are we friends?"
He startles at that, but Keith only laughs.
"Relax, Shiro. Perhaps I'm being a bit facetious," he says, by way of apology. "Thank you for the waffles. Now eat before they go cold and the egg sets too much."
Shiro gives a sheepish little smile, unwrapping his cutlery from his napkin to cut through bacon, syrup and dough and tentatively dip it in the fried yolk. Keith pauses to watch him take his bite and turns a grin down to his own plate when Shiro's eyes light up. There's a moment of silence as they simply eat, before Shiro places his knife down to wipe his mouth with his napkin.
"So what brings you to the Griddle, Akira?" he asks. "Special occasion for you too?"
Keith just shrugs as he reaches for his milkshake. "Not really. Just passing by on a job."
It's…almost the truth. And it's a little cute how Shiro deflates at the news.
"A wanderer, then?" he asks. "Where did you come from?"
Keith huffs a laugh. "A long, long way from here," he says, plucking the cherry from his glass. Shiro's eyes follow it all the way to his lips, and Keith watches his throat bob when he bites down and plucks the stem. It's an evasive answer, but if Shiro had any follow-up questions, Keith thinks they're long gone.
"Do you want that?" he asks when the silence drags, gesturing at Shiro's cherry. It seems to snap him out of his trance.
"N-no! You can take it," Shiro stammers, pushing the glass toward him. "Please."
Keith quirks a brow in amusement, and Shiro goes as bright as the little fruit as Keith reaches over to pick it out of the cream. He spares Shiro the embarrassment of being caught staring this time by looking out the window, watching the military vehicles roll by on the street beyond. It's nostalgic, in a kind of warped way, thinking back on all the meals they've shared ( are yet to share? ) here, the simulators Shiro snuck him into on the officer's base, the garage where they would tinker on old hoverbikes together…
Wait.
Keith removes the cherry stalk from his teeth, shifting forward in his seat.
"Hey, Shiro?"
The newly minted officer sits up a little straighter.
"Don't suppose you know where I could find a hoverbike around here?"
"There's a slight catch," Shiro says sheepishly as he pulls the dust cover off of the classic model bike. "She…needs a little work first."
Judging by the dings and chipped paint, that might be an understatement.
"I've fixed one of the engines, but the ignition is toast," he explains, as Keith steps forward to run a hand over the wing. "Poor thing hasn't had a lot of love."
"Think it's salvageable?" Keith asks. Despite the imperfections, it's a beautiful bike. It would be a shame to see it go to ruin.
"I've got some parts for the second engine coming tomorrow," Shiro says. "If you can get the ignition working, I'll let you borrow it for whatever you need."
Keith cocks an eyebrow, lips turning up into a crooked smile. "Aren't you being a touch too trusting of a guy you just met?" he asks, hoping it doesn't come out too fond.
Shiro brushes a hand through inky hair, avoiding Keith's eyes. "You don't seem the type to abuse someone's trust," he says, shy enough that it sends an arrow through Keith's heart. "Besides, free labour is a bit rude when I still haven't even made up for the mess I made of your clothes."
"You did really do a number on me with that milkshake," Keith agrees, grinning when Shiro goes rigid in response. "Tell me about the ignition. What's wrong?"
"Well, if I had to guess, the previous owner was using a screwdriver instead of a key," Shiro replies deadpan, though he struggles to keep his expression neutral when Keith laughs, looking a little proud at landing the delivery.
"I see, I see. So this is a quality piece from a police auction?"
"Only the finest," Shiro grins. "Even if I had the key, it probably would be too damaged to fit. I've got a new barrel, but I, uh…" The tentative bravado he had started building deflates again. "Um, I haven't actually installed one of these before, so having a second pair of eyes on the instructions will be pretty helpful."
Keith moves to jump up into the seat of the bike, taking stock of the damage. "Well, it looks like your triple clamp isn't too messed up. Sometimes you get some cracks when people force the ignition. The replacement should be fairly simple. You've just gotta make sure you keep track of all the bolts and pieces you remove, same as always."
He looks down to Shiro, realising he's watching him with an awed expression. It's a little embarrassing.
"I guess you're in luck," Keith says, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's been a while, but I've done a few of these before. Let me see your drill kit and I'll show you how it's done."
Keith can imagine Kolivan's spray as he sets up camp beyond the outer city limits away from the roads. Maybe from an outsider's opinion, he indulged in his emotions a little more than he should have today, stayed a little longer strictly necessary, but it hadn't been only for his personal benefit. He needed transport, and since the tear hadn't exactly been accommodating enough to allow him to bring a ship through, he was going to have to improvise with whatever the universe afforded him. It just so happened that, as so many times before, the universe had afforded him Shiro.
Keith can't help but smile at that thought, nudging his can of beans off the embers of his fire to cool down. Around him, the scanners unloaded from his bag map the environment, loading information into Kolivan's device as it searches for the rogue Olkari tech. The occasional beep and blinking lights are the only company he has out here, and the scanners should alert him if any wild animals decide to wander his way, so Keith lets his mind wander as he picks up his can and multi-tool fork.
A younger version of himself is probably out here somewhere in this world, he supposes. In an orphanage bed, if he hasn't snuck out to what remains of his old family home tonight. His father would be long gone—five years by his reckoning. And while that thought puts a dampener on things, maybe it's for the best. Keith isn't sure he could handle the dilemma of choosing between saving his father from his untimely passing or preserving his own future and the fate of his reality. Having the choice removed lets him keep his sanity, and for that, he feels both grateful and guilty.
Kolivan's device pulls him from his thoughts with a flash of a new message on the screen.
OBJECTIVE LOCATED
Keith taps to bring up the map, examining the topography for familiar landmarks to get his bearings. About 50 miles east of the Garrison, it seems. An overshoot from the Blue Lion's cave, but given the size of the universe across space and time, it's close enough to bullseye, reminding Keith once again just how terrifyingly powerful Haggar once was. Even with that in mind, it's still much too far to travel on foot.
"Guess I have no choice but to see Shiro again tomorrow," he murmurs to no one.
And if he smiles a little at that thought, well, Kolivan isn't here to see it.
Shiro waits to greet him with coffee out the front of the garage when Keith arrives in the morning, bright and early. Keith tells himself he's not affected, but it's hard to ignore the tug in his chest.
He's like a giant puppy, he can't help but think when Shiro beams as he accepts the cup with a word of thanks.
He's an earnest student, Keith finds too. He watches Keith work with such wonder, asks so many questions about his methodology as they work together, that Keith can't help but preen a little under the attention. When they both reach for the same wrench and knock hands, Shiro becomes a deer in the headlights—albeit a very pink one—babbling an apology while Keith ducks his head to hide a smile.
When Keith turns over the ignition and it purrs into life, Shiro looks at him like he hung the stars in the sky, and it takes all Keith has not to reach down and brush his cheek in affection.
"We should take it for a spin, just to double check," he says instead. He nods over to the other bike in the garage as he swings a leg over the seat. "Bring yours, in case this one dies on us in the middle of the desert."
Shiro almost trips over himself to grab his goggles and get to his bike, and Keith masks a quiet laugh under the rumble of the engine. Leading the way, he takes it easy out of the garage and through Plaht City with Shiro on his tail. It feels smooth; there's no jolt of the thrusters in his seat, the steering is aligned and a gentle push on the throttle shows the bike is responsive. Shiro pulls level with him as they leave the city limits and go off-road, shooting him a grin.
"Race you to the canyon," Keith shouts over the engines, twisting the throttle. The engine roars and Keith lets out a shout of delight as the bike surges forward, kicking up a trail of dust behind him. He doesn't slow down to check on Shiro. Even if Keith had caught him off-guard, Keith knows Shiro would never back down from a challenge. Racing has always been one of their simpler pleasures in life—one they haven't had time to indulge in for so long. The rush of adrenaline in his bloodstream is liquid joy. He's missed this. He's sure Shiro—his timeline's Shiro—has missed it too.
With the sound of the bike chasing him growing closer, Keith grins, activating the mask on his suit to keep the dust out of his eyes as he pushes his bike harder, rushing through familiar landmarks, around jutting rocks and along sandstone walls. Keith feels a wonderful sense of deja vu as he speeds toward the cliff edge. Maybe it's not the safest thing to do on an untested bike, but Shiro is gaining on him and his flight mode is well and truly activated. Instead of slowing for the corner, Keith pushes harder until he soars over the cliff edge, wind rustling around him and stomach dipping as gravity tries to reign him in. But the bike glides like an eagle against the desert sun, thrusters working seamlessly to give him ample air time and pushing his trajectory into an easy to manage decline. The bike barely jostles at all when he touches down on the valley below, letting him pull around in a circle to come to a halt and deactivate his mask to look for Shiro. But to Keith's surprise…he isn't right there behind him. Instead, shielding his eyes, he looks up and sees a lonely figure stopped on the top of the cliff. It makes no sense. Why wouldn't Shiro jump too?
After a moment, the bike moves away from the edge, and Keith starts to worry, but the distant hum of an engine grows closer after only a moment, and he relaxes when Shiro's bike emerges from behind the cliff wall on his right, having evidently taken the long way down. Shiro's bike is still running when he rips off his goggles with wide eyes and flushed cheeks.
"How did you do that?!" he blurts.
Keith blinks. "The cliff dive?"
Oh… Oh. Does this mean?...
"Would you…like me to teach you?" Keith asks hesitantly.
"Please!!"
Keith would never ever be able to say no to those puppy-dog eyes, but Shiro holds his hands in front of himself, like he's begging for Keith's time, and Keith feels like he's burning up from the inside.
"Jump up here then, big guy," he says as he shuffles forward in his seat, grateful he doesn't choke on the words.
Shiro is all too eager to kill his engine and climb aboard, but once he settles, he seems to freeze. Keith glances down, seeing hands hovering over his hips. A burst of laughter falls from his lips, and he grabs one of Shiro's hands to wrap it around his waist. "We're not in Catholic school. You'll want to hang on, trust me."
There's a pause as Keith urges the bike forward, before a second arm slides around him, pressing a warm body to his back. And Keith swallows, struck. He loves every part of Shiro with all his being, scars and all…but it's been so long since he last embraced him with two human arms. Two warm, soft, flesh and bone arms. Keith finds himself getting unexpectedly choked up at the feeling. With a gentle pat to Shiro's right hand, Keith lets the wind dry his eyes, taking comfort in the fact he won't notice.
"It's about having faith," Keith explains as they reach the top of the canyon.
"Faith…or balls the size of Jupiter," Shiro deadpans behind him.
Keith snorts, nudging an elbow into his ribs. "I'd put money on the fact that you'd nail this first go. For now though—" he revs the throttle, "—hold on. And don't close your eyes."
Shiro's grip tightens just as they go over the edge, close enough that Keith can hear his soft gasp in his ear. It quickly turns into an overjoyed whoop as they hurtle toward the Earth, and laughter when the thrusters cushion their landing with a bounce. Keith wishes he could bottle the sound.
"Again!"
Keith would never say no.
It only takes three demonstrations for Shiro to attempt his own cliff dive, but by the time he's had his fill, the sun is low on the horizon. They stop for a moment to watch it set before they'll head back. Keith is in no rush. The Olkari Tech will be there in the morning.
"Akira?"
Keith almost forgets to respond to the name, hoping he doesn't look too dazed when he pulls his gaze away from where the sun lays on the Earth.
"You went a bit quiet there. Everything okay?"
And isn't that just so him? Always the compassionate one, even as a freshly graduated officer. Keith feels that incredible love he has for him continue to warm his chest, timeline be damned.
Isn't it funny, Shiro? he thinks. I guess I really did love you before we even met.
"It's been a while since I've watched a desert sunset," Keith admits to him, to give him an answer. "I didn't think I'd see one so soon, to be perfectly honest."
Shiro gives a laugh. "I'm starting to think you're from another planet," he grins, crossing his arms and leaning back against his bike.
"Maybe so."
The silence settles into something more comfortable then…until a soft beep interrupts. It's like ice water poured over Keith's head; a sound he hasn't heard in over a decade. It's a sudden, startling reminder of just what Shiro was facing at this time in his life, and Keith can't help but look straight at Shiro's right wrist as he rubs it. Shiro pauses, noticing the gaze, and he withdraws a little, glancing away.
"Um… Judging by that look, you seem to know what that was," he says, looking embarrassed.
Keith tries to swallow down his guilt. "I've…come across one before," he says, unable to lie. "It's nothing to be ashamed about. You don't have to say yes, but may I see?"
Shiro hesitates, but with a little nod, he pulls his jacket sleeve past the wrist, exposing the little silver band underneath. Cautious, Keith reaches out to take hold of his arm and run his fingers over an old foe.
"Found out about six months ago," Shiro tells him, and Keith's heart breaks. This is all still so fresh for him, then. "The Garrison let me finish my officers training, and my mentor has approved me for a few exosphere missions, but it's all subject to a lot of medical assessments. It's still early and it's not affecting my flying yet. Hopefully, the stimulators will hold off the tremors for a few years." There's a crease between Shiro's brows, like he's frowning, the way Keith knows he looks when he's trying not to let his emotions get the better of him. "My dream has always been to fly further than any pilot has before. And now, I don't think I'll have the chance. I have all these record-breaking flight sim scores, and a body that will just fail me one day."
Keith rubs soothing circles into the soft skin below the band, chest tight. He can still remember the day Shiro told him the disease was gone, after the war ended, an unexpected kindness from his time as a gladiator and Galra test subject. The way Keith had sobbed and thrown himself at him, overwhelmed, and the way Shiro had coaxed him into their first kiss as their relief bled into each other's.
"You're Takashi Shirogane," Keith says softly, reverently. "You are in control of your destiny—no one else. You are strong enough to overcome anything, and you'll get there. I promise."
Thoughtlessly, he brings up Shiro's hand to press a kiss to his wrist. Shiro sucks in his breath audibly, bringing Keith's attention to his error immediately. He quickly lets go.
"Sorry, that was…inappropriate," Keith says, taking a step back in alarm as Shiro takes hold of his released wrist. "I forgot myself for a moment there, I—"
"It's fine, Akira," Shiro interjects quietly, bright pink again and avoiding his eyes. But Keith spies the little smile he tries to hide. Maybe it really is fine. "I haven't heard a lot of people say my dream isn't lost so…thank you."
Keith offers what he hopes looks like a reassuring smile. "Back yourself, Shiro. You're going to be amazing. Your name will be remembered forever in human history, I know it."
Shiro laughs at that. "That seems a little too fanciful."
"Trust me," Keith says with a knowing smile, turning his eyes back to the horizon. "Haven't I told you yet? I can tell the future."
A late return to Plaht means a pit stop for burgers at the Griddle. There's no special occasion to mark, except that Keith is starving and another canned meal sounds horrendous. Unable to wait until he treks out to whatever campsite he'll set up in the evening, Keith starts ripping through the takeaway paper as the bell on the door tinkles behind him. He can't remember the last time he had a diner burger, between Voltron and the war and the ongoing missionary work with Atlas and the Blades. It's greasy as hell, stuffed to the gills with pickles, ketchup and mustard oozing over his fingers—completely fucking perfect. Keith must completely fail at masking how good it is, because Shiro starts laughing when they come to a stop by the bikes.
"Hungry?" Shiro teases. "Anyone would think you haven't eaten in years."
"It has been a few years since I've had one of these," Keith says, completely unashamed as he tears into another bite, since there seems to be no point hiding his euphoria now.
"You say the strangest things sometimes, you know that, right?" Shiro says, grey eyes bright with amusement. "So you're a fortune-telling, daredevil traveller from a distant land with frankly strange tastes in fashion who gives off "I've seen the universe" vibes, but you haven't seen a desert sunset or had a burger in years? Just who is Akira anyway?"
"What's wrong with this outfit?" Keith pouts.
"I— N-nothing," Shiro stammers as Keith finishes off the last of his burger. "Nothing. It's a great outfit, trust me. I just meant—"
"Easy, big guy," Keith laughs, trying to put him out of his misery. "Jeez, you have to be the least suave person I've ever met."
It's a far cry from the cool, untouchable God he looked up to when he was young.
"Coming from the guy with sauce on his cheek," Shiro shoots back. Keith reaches up to swipe at the side of his face, but evidently he's off the mark, because Shiro laughs under his breath.
"Here…"
Before he can truly register what's happening, there's a hand at his jaw and a tender thumb brushing at the corner of his lip, stopping him still. Even now, with almost a decade between them, Shiro still has a few inches on him, so Keith has to look up to meet his eyes as Shiro watches him so intently. Okay, so maybe he's still a little suave, despite the pink that dusts his cheeks. But Shiro eventually loses his nerve in the silence, retracting his hand and his gaze.
"Where are you staying, Akira?" he asks shyly. "I can drop you off if you need to garage the bike overnight?"
Keith is still trying to recover from the unexpected touch. It makes him too honest. "I'm just camping in the desert."
That makes Shiro's eyes whip up again, surprised. "Stay with me then," he blurts out so quickly, the words are almost hard to decipher. "I mean…I have a couch. It's gotta be better than sleeping out with the coyotes."
Keith hesitates. This is getting dangerous, fast. "Are you housed at the Garrison?" he asks cautiously.
Shiro shakes his head. "Waiting on my officers quarters to come through. I'm staying at a friend of a friend's place until then. It's not Garrison-nice but it's got a roof, which is a step up from what you're doing right now."
Keith can practically hear Kolivan's lecture from the future already, but his resolve is crumbling. "...I'll be leaving tomorrow."
"All the more reason to stay."
"I'm a stranger. You barely know me."
"It doesn't feel that way," Shiro says softly. He clears his throat, then puts on a more jovial tone. "If you were going to rob me, you could have skipped town with the bike already. And it's much easier to hide a body in a desert than in a house."
"True," Keith laughs, rubbing the back of his neck as he wars with himself.
He loses.
"Okay, fine. But only because I'm exhausted from winning all our races." Shiro whines in protest to that as Keith continues with a grin. "One night. That's it. I'll grab what I came for in the morning, drop off the bike and then be on my way again."
Shiro seems to deflate at that, but he doesn't argue. "Come on. You can bring the bike to the house. I'll lead the way."
Keith isn't lying when he says he's exhausted. Time travel-based jetlag, he supposes—if such a thing exists. He takes up Shiro's offer of a shower, but doesn't last much longer than that, pulling on the pair of flannel bottoms kindly left for him by the bathroom sink, before promptly marching out to throw himself face-first on the couch. He dozes to the sound of the faucet as Shiro takes his own shower, rousing only to half awareness at a soft touch on his shoulder. It's dark now, no artificial light glaring on the back of his eyelids, and there is a pleasant weight and warmth over him that wasn't there before. A blanket, Keith realises, as careful hands tuck it around him in the dark. He succumbs to sleep with the feeling of his hair being swept back from his face and a soft, "Good night, Akira," whispered to the silence.
It's still dark when he opens his eyes again, but the clock on the microwave in Shiro's tiny kitchen tells him dawn isn't far off, so he hauls himself to his feet and dresses soundlessly, careful not to wake Shiro. It's a Monday, so perhaps he'll be at the Garrison when Keith returns, letting him quietly slip away, leaving Shiro with memories of hoverbike races and cliff dives and hopefully not too much disappointment. It's only been a couple of days. Keith is sure Shiro will forget this encounter soon enough.
The desert is still cold as Keith whips through the sand on the restored bike. With the guidance of Kolivan's device, it's a straight shot out to his objective. He knows it the moment he sees it, hovering a foot above the desert floor, blinking softly: a sole Olkari cube. He takes a moment to inspect it. Such a little thing, capable of so much power. Depending on which hands it lands in, it could be a device of benevolence or terrible evil. Keith can't know for sure what Haggar had planned, but he can guess. A failsafe. A kill switch. Plan B, C or Z. Remove the Blue Lions from Earth's past, and rewrite the future. No Blue Lion, then no Paladins from Earth. No revival of the Castle of Lions. No Voltron alliance.
There's no point in musing the what-ifs, Keith decides, taking the cube and placing it in his satchel. The future is safe. Haggar is gone. The war is over. All that remains is to return to his timeline. But first, he needs to return Shiro's hoverbike.
The ride back to Shiro's house seems to last a lifetime. He yearns to return to his Shiro, to wrap him in his arms and remind him how much he loves him. How proud he is of how far he's come in his young life. But it's bittersweet. Leaving this Shiro behind will be hard, knowing what he is just learning to live with, knowing what's to come for him…
Keith almost dreads getting off the bike as the nav directs him back into Shiro's driveway. It means his job is done. It means this is over. He cuts the engine with a sigh, but the sound of squeaky hinges bring his attention to the front door and…there he is. Garrison uniform half-unbuttoned, sleeves rolled to his elbows. Fresh-faced, wide-eyed and innocent. He might be from another place in their timeline, but in the end, Keith is still his, no matter what. He feels his heart thunder as he slips down from the bike seat. This is exactly what he didn't want. The goodbyes, the parting. He had hoped to slip away quietly without Shiro ever realising. No chance now.
"Did you find what you were looking for?" Shiro asks, and it's painfully obvious he's trying to be casual as he leans against the door frame, yet Keith can't help but feel charmed anyway.
"Mm," Keith nods, feet betraying him to take him one, two steps closer. "I'll be on my way now."
"Right now?"
"Yes."
Three more steps.
"Do you…" Shiro swallows, "have time for coffee?"
Keith is almost level with him, resolve shaky. "I shouldn't…"
Shiro shifts, wetting his lips. "You were pretty tired last night. I can't send you on your way without at least making sure you're a little caffeinated first. I promise I make drinkable coffee."
No, he doesn't. Keith knows all too well. In spite of that, his resolve crumbles.
"A quick cup, then. And I'll be on my way."
Shiro does a terrible job of masking his joy at the response, holding the door open. As Keith passes through under his arm, Shiro shoots him a blinding smile and Keith's heart—against all his wishes—stutters and restarts. Shiro makes a beeline for the kitchen, urging Keith to sit at the breakfast bench, as if afraid he will change his mind and leave. He begins rambling unprompted about how the Garrison had sent him home since he had already put in leave to work on the bike Keith had fixed, joking that it was his fault that he now had a free day with nothing to do.
"Sorry," Keith offers ruefully as Shiro slides a mug over to him.
"Apology accepted," he replies cheekily, watching Keith take a sip.
It is…fucking terrible. Coffee is already bitter but Shiro's concoction is truly soul-sucking. The beans have been burnt to hell, probably far beyond their best before date. Keith has a doctorate in tolerating Shiro's kitchen mishaps at this stage of his life though, so he doesn't so much as flinch, swallowing the God awful mouthful down. Shiro picks up his own mug completely unaware, only to immediately spit his own mouthful into the sink.
"Oh god, that's not drinkable," he gags, snatching up Keith's mug and pouring in down the drain. Keith can't help but laugh as he watches him try to wash the taste out of his mouth straight from the kitchen tap.
"Yeah, you really oversold that one," Keith chortles, as Shiro rounds the breakfast bench, a desperate look in his eyes. It's the only warning he gets before Shiro spins his chair to face him, pulling Keith in by the nape of his neck to kiss him—hard but brief.
Keith isn't laughing any more.
"Stay, Akira," Shiro breathes, grey eyes boring holes into him as Keith stares in shock.
"I… I can't," he whispers back. "I just… I can't. I'm sorry."
Shiro's jaw tightens, like he knew the answer already, but he doesn't step back.
"I know you have to leave. I don't understand it, but I know. But please, it doesn't have to be forever—just stay a little longer."
Keith swallows down the lump in his throat. He wants to promise Shiro that this is forever, it just can't start right now. But he can't say that. Not without risking everything.
Shiro takes the silence as an opportunity to try to convince him with another kiss, gentler this time, unrushed. Even the second time, Keith can't push him away, blinking in a daze as Shiro pulls back, eyes full of hope.
"I shouldn't stay."
Shiro seems to catch on to the change in his language, leaning in to peck a kiss to the corner of his lips. "I know."
"I still need to leave."
A fleeting kiss to his jaw as a hand slides down to his hip. "I know."
Keith's breath hitches. "God, Shiro, I'm too old for you," he says, a last-ditch attempt to drive him away.
"I don't care," Shiro says petulantly as he presses defiant kisses to his neck.
Keith almost succumbs, and it takes all his strength to plant his hands on Shiro's shoulders and push him back, breath unsteady.
"This is irresponsible," he tries to reason. "I can't be this selfish with you."
Shiro doesn't let go of the grip he has on Keith's hips, meeting his eyes squarely despite the flush in his cheeks. "If you have to go, I need to make the most of the time we have left."
"... Fuck."
Shiro seizes his advantage, and before Keith can take his next breath, he finds himself hoisted onto the kitchen bench, fumbling fingers pulling at his Blades robes. Keith is the one who pulls him in this time, coaxing Shiro into a kiss that still tastes bitter from the coffee. It leaves the younger man gasping for breath, grip tight on Keith's thigh as he tries his best to peel Keith out of his clothes one-handed.
"Easy, baby," Keith laughs, and Shiro shudders at the name. "Why are you so eager to rush?"
Shiro hunches in on himself a little, and it hits Keith like a freight train. The vagabond… three days… Keith is an idiot.
"Have you ever been with someone before, Shiro?" he asks, voice low, pulling back just enough to look him in the eye. His lips are already kiss-swollen and his uniform wrinkled.
"Is that a problem?"
Keith isn't sure. This encounter is dubious at best. This Shiro aside, he has another to think of. The ring on his left hand feels heavy. Is this right? Would it be unfaithful when the other man is… still Shiro? It makes Keith pause. He doesn't feel equipped to figure out a moral dilemma like this on the fly.
"Akira?..."
But then he remembers the fondness with which Shiro has described his first time. The generosity and magnetism of his lover. Keith wants so desperately to ensure that moment was—is— perfect for him.
"Nothing wrong with that, baby," Keith reassures with a smile. "Is this what you want? Are you sure?"
"I'm sure." The colour in his cheeks deepens as Shiro goes shy. "E-every time I look at you, I just feel this rush I can't explain. I'm terrified I'm going to say something stupid and make you run far far away…further than you're already going."
"I'm leaving anyway," Keith says wryly, because he doesn't want Shiro to forget that amongst all of this. "Our paths are only crossing over for now. Tell me."
Shiro shakes his head adamantly, looking panicked. "I can't. It's… It's stupid…" He reaches to tuck a strand of Keith's hair behind his ear. "I barely know you. Why do I feel so strongly about you?"
Keith catches his hand as it falls—his right hand—kissing his knuckles and turning it over to kiss his palm. "It's not stupid, Shiro," he tells him softly, because the pull of the universe has always been unpredictable, but never stupid. "Some things defy explanation."
"Then tell me how you feel about all this," Shiro challenges.
Keith chuckles quietly, pressing one last kiss to Shiro's wrist, above his stimulator band. There are so many things he could say, so many words to express all the ways in which he loves this man—now, then, forever. It would never be enough, and yet, right now…
"I think I might ruin you if I told you the depth of what I feel for you."
Shiro freezes, mouth opening and closing as he tries to formulate a response. In the end, he just settles for something simple.
"Wow…"
Keith laughs, leaning forward from his perch on the kitchen bench.
"Yeah." There's a pause between them and Keith can't help but grin. "Wanna show me your bedroom?"
Shiro nods wordlessly but doesn't move a muscle, so Keith pushes him back with a laugh, sliding off the bench to march him backwards through the tiny house. While Keith deftly relieves Shiro of his officer's jacket, Shiro struggles a little more with his Blades overcoat. By the time the mattress hits the back of Shiro's knees and he stumbles backwards onto the bed behind him to land squarely on his ass, Keith still has to shrug his left arm out of the coat.
"Shirt off," Keith instructs with a grin, nodding to the singlet Shiro wears as he unlatches his own belt.
Shiro seems struck dumb as Keith strips down to his undersuit, only remembering his task when Keith quirks an eyebrow. He manages to almost get stuck in the process, resurfacing with fluffy hair, discarding the balled up singlet hastily to take hold of Keith's hips as he steps between his knees. For Keith, it's an out of body experience. Far more than just the arm, his skin is smooth, unmarred. It's much more jarring than Keith expects. He reaches out to trace scars that aren't there, lost for a moment before Shiro breaks the spell.
"You are the most incredible thing I've ever seen, Akira."
Keith huffs a laugh, flattening down Shiro's dark hair with a tender hand. "Just relax, baby," he croons, the pet name slipping out again. "Let me make this good for you."
Shiro obediently leans back under the weight of Keith's kiss. His pulse hammers against Keith's tongue as he trails down his neck and to his chest. As Keith continues his path and his body slips from Shiro's grasp, he instead fists his fingers in the bedsheets, breaths already coming in little gasps. He's hypersensitive, Keith quickly finds, skin jumping under the brush of fingers and lips. Untouched, uncharted, he must feel every sensation in firing through his nerves at terminal velocity. Keith takes his time, relishing in the way Shiro fights to stay still and the way his knuckles bleach on the sheets. Already, there's a sheen of sweat to his skin, only partially attributable to the heat outside.
"Is this okay?" Keith asks, hooking fingers into Shiro's waistband with another wet kiss just below his navel.
Shiro just nods furiously, and Keith laughs, watching Shiro shudder as his breath ghosts over his skin. "Cat got your tongue?"
"Y-yes. I mean, no—I mean," Shiro stammers. "Please, Akira."
Keith hasn't missed the fact that Shiro has been tenting his trousers for a while. Still, he takes his time popping the button and unzipping his fly. He knows what to expect when he pulls down the band of his underwear, but he quickly comes to realise just why Shiro has a death grip on his sheets when his cock bobs free. Flushed dark and swollen, it's a miracle he hasn't already come in his pants.
"Oh baby, is this for me?" Keith purrs, wrapping a hand around the base, careful not to overstimulate him too quickly. Still, Shiro makes a strangled sound and so Keith pauses a moment. He remembers his first time being quick and dirty. He doesn't want that for Shiro. "You're doing so good baby, just keep focusing."
Shiro is still and obedient as Keith kneels between his thighs...until Keith leans in close enough that his mere breath causes Shiro's hips to jump. He laughs quietly, and Shiro gives a bitten off whimper when Keith simply kisses the head.
Patience, he thinks to himself, amused.
He licks a stripe from base to tip, lapping at the precome that has gathered there. Shiro's thigh quivers under Keith's hand where he braces himself and Keith grins, kissing the head again.
"Still okay there, big guy?" he asks.
Shiro nods again, but this time he finds his words without prompting. "I'm trying really hard not to bust early," he admits, a little strained.
"It's okay if it goes fast," Keith soothes, pumping his hand once languidly and watching Shiro's head fall back. "I'm just taking the edge off before we get started."
When Keith finally wraps his lips around the head, Shiro hiccups a breath, groaning as Keith sinks down. "That feels so good."
Keith resists the urge to laugh, to pull back and tell him he's barely started. Shiro once told him that his mouth was a religious experience. He only hopes Shiro feels exalted at the end of their time together.
Seeing the way his fingers still fist at the sheets, Keith reaches for his hand—always that precious right hand—guiding it to rest on his head. That brings Shiro's eyes back to him, pupils blown wide as he watches Keith sink down again. There's open, soft affection in his face, and his instinct is to pat Keith's hair instead of grip it like Keith has come to expect. He hums around his girth as Shiro begins to speak.
"You—Oh!" Finally, his fingers tighten in his hair, but the devotion in his face remains. "You're so beautiful."
Oh… Keith thinks with a burst of fondness. So he's always been this sappy.
Keith hollows his cheeks as he draws up, tongue pressed firm at the underside of his cock. Shiro's hips buck a little at that, short, sharp and involuntarily. Keith doesn't ease up, swirling his tongue around, and sinking back to the root, relaxing his throat to take him in further. He hears Shiro curse above him, babbling praises and nonsense in equal measures. Keith swallows around him and Shiro quakes. He pulls on Keith's hair, as if to warn him, but Keith is nothing if not stubborn. He eases off just enough to run his tongue across the vein close to the base before he sinks down again. Shiro comes gasping his name… Or at least, the name Keith gave him.
"Akira… Stars above…"
He tastes the same, even if he doesn't quite look the same. Keith pulls back only when Shiro is spent, thumbing at his lip with a grin.
"Doing okay there, big guy?"
"I think I just saw God," he gasps, falling back to lie supine on the mattress, staring at the ceiling.
Keith laughs, shucking Shiro's pants down to relieve him of the last of his clothing completely. He only assists by half-heartedly kicking his legs, panting like he just ran all the way to the Garrison and back. When Keith straightens to peel himself out of his own undersuit though, Shiro gains a miraculous second wind, shooting upright onto his shaking knees to watch as if he has tickets to the greatest show on Earth. Even his softened cock gives a valiant twitch as Keith strips down.
Never underestimate the power of a horny teenager, Keith thinks to himself.
He's careful to ensure his wedding ring stays in his gloves, as much as it pains him to remove the precious band from his finger. He wishes he could tell this Shiro the truth, let him know just how much he loves him, but Keith knows it would be hard to comprehend. Instead, he climbs up onto the bed wordlessly, watching as Shiro's eyes rake over every inch of his body, seeing the way his eyes catch on his scars—some of which he will one day mark on Keith's body himself. After a moment, he shuffles forward on his knees, taking hold of Keith's hips, thumbs tracing the deep V of his adonis belt.
"I take it back," Shiro says, awed. "Now I've seen God."
Keith snorts unceremoniously, shoving Shiro so he topples backwards into the pillows. "I've heard a lot of cheesy things in my life, but that takes the cake." Still, he follows Shiro down, brushing back his dark hair fondly to kiss him with nothing but tenderness, relishing the way Shiro waits for him to set the pace.
"It's true though," Shiro swears, between kisses. Keith only hums sceptically as he pecks gently at his bottom lip. But Shiro is insistent. "I've never met anyone like you. It's like you don't belong on Earth."
"Cheesy, cheesy, cheesy," Keith sighs as he paints a line of kisses over the bridge of Shiro's nose. He grins when he pulls back to see Shiro's pout and kisses that too. "How do you feel, baby?" he asks, propping himself on his elbow as he rolls onto his side.
Shiro watches him with moony eyes, and it's almost a little too much for Keith to bear. "Never better," he says quietly, as if afraid of disturbing the little bubble they've created from the outside world.
"We can stop here if you want," Keith assures him, just as softly, but Shiro only shakes his head. "Are you sure?" Keith asks seriously. "This is a big deal. I don't want you to regret this after I'm gone."
"I won't." Shiro watches him so intently that Keith can't help but believe it. "It feels like I've been waiting for you to come along for a while."
"Shiro…" Keith can't deny he's affected. He swallows down the tightness in his throat, trying to hide his response with another kiss. "How do you want this to go? What did you have in mind?"
Shiro goes a little shy, avoiding his eyes by watching his fingers as they trace patterns down Keith's side.
"I, um…"
He seems to be struggling with what to say, but Keith knows this look, knows what he needs.
"Want me to take care of you, baby?" he asks, feeling his heart rate spike.
Shiro finally meets his eyes again. "Please, Akira."
"Do you have lube? Condoms?"
A sheepish look creeps over Shiro's face. "Under the pillow," he mumbles, rushing to explain as Keith quirks a brow. "I, um, made a stop on the way back from the Garrison."
Keith snorts as he reaches under the pillow, finding everything there just as Shiro said. "I admire the confidence," he teases.
"I just knew what I wanted," Shiro defends stubbornly.
"I get that impression," Keith grins, tossing the foil packets on the bed and popping the cap on the lubricant.
"You told me I was in control of my destiny."
"Brat," Keith laughs as he settles between Shiro's legs, urging him to bend a knee. "Tell me if you want me to slow down."
Shiro takes a sharp breath as Keith traces his rim with a slick finger.
"Relax," Keith urges. "I'll stop the moment you tell me to." Keith presses in as Shiro exhales, leaning down to reward him with a kiss to his belly when his leg shifts on the sheets. "You're doing so good," he tells him when Shiro bites his lip.
He takes his time, forgetting for now about his mission, about his destination. All that matters is this moment, and the memory he'll leave Shiro with. He begins mapping the body beneath him; the smooth skin over lithe muscle, not yet battle-hardened. The hand that clutches at the sheets as Keith eases another finger in. The flush of heat in his face, uninterrupted by an old scar. Keith will always love every version of him.
"Turn onto your side, baby. It will be a little easier," he coaxes with a gentle nudge. "But keep looking here. I want to see your face."
Shiro obeys readily, swivelling his hips. Keith repays him with a crook of his fingers, making Shiro groan, and Keith feels his cock throb at the sound.
"You like that, baby?"
"Yeah…" Shiro breathes.
"Think you're ready for me?" Keith asks, sliding his fingers out and taking hold of Shiro's thigh.
"Please, Akira."
He's so good. So pliant and willing. Keith can tell how keyed up he is as he tears the foil on the condom—how eager, despite the first-time anxieties that must be lingering under the surface. Gently hitching up Shiro's top knee, he leans over him, settling his weight carefully over his body. His cock bumps against Shiro's rim, but he doesn't press in just yet, pausing to kiss him again, deep and unhurried. Shiro sighs so sweetly into it, reaching up to slide his fingers through Keith's hair. Keith can't help but indulge a little longer when Shiro smiles against his lips. When Shiro makes a needy sound though, Keith straightens again, taking hold of his cock to line it up with Shiro's entrance.
The press in is slow—it was always going to be. Shiro's body is as warm and inviting as ever, but Keith doesn't lose himself in familiarity. This body is young and—for all enthusiasm—inexperienced. Keith can feel the way Shiro fights with an involuntary instinct to go tense. He pauses, waits for Shiro's body to invite him, then presses in a little further.
"Doing so well, baby," Keith coos, running fingers over Shiro's ribs when he tightens around him again. Shiro reaches for the hand and Keith doesn't dare deny him, twining their fingers together. "I'm going to move again, is that okay?"
Shiro nods with a hum, clearly focusing on their hands. Keith leans down to kiss his shoulder. He draws out slow, pausing to give Shiro time, before pushing back in one fluid motion. Shiro's breath hitches, but there's no telltale tensing, no furrow in his brow. Keith wants to bury deeper, but he exercises restraint for now, just trying to let Shiro adjust as he fucks him gentle and slow.
"Can we go faster?" Shiro asks and Keith bursts into a laugh.
"I'm trying to be considerate here."
"I can handle it. I wanna go faster."
"Brat," Keith grins, readjusting the hold on Shiro's thigh to hook an arm under and hoist it a little higher. He heeds his request though, picking up the pace, pushing deeper and deeper with every thrust until…
"Oh… "
Keith feels a smug spark of victory as Shiro blinks up to him with lips parted and eyes dazed. He knows that face, has it etched firmly into his brain like a work of art.
"There?" he asks softly, burying himself again. Shiro answers him with a gasp.
"Holy shit, Akira."
It sets off sparks under his skin too. Keith makes sure to target that spot on every thrust, delighting in how sensitive Shiro is, how his legs twitch, his fingers curl tighter around his, how the sweat gathers at his throat and the sounds that begin to escape him. Whimpers, gasps, moans. Keith can barely keep his own composure.
"You feel like a dream, baby," he tells him when he's close and he can feel Shiro about to shake apart beneath him. He releases Shiro's thigh to stroke his cock, guiding him through an orgasm that brings on his own in a hot rush. Keith needs a moment to recover, but Shiro protests with a mumbled sound when he pulls out. Keith is quick to soothe with kisses peppered to his face, whispering praises, telling him how good he is. The smile Shiro gives him is a little wobbly though, and so he doesn't get up to clean them both up until he's sure he's all right.
When he returns from the bathroom, washcloth in hand, he finds Shiro lying on his back and staring at the ceiling, and he has a moment of panic.
"Doing okay there, big guy?" he asks, keeping his voice even as he approaches.
Shiro turns a dazed look onto him, and Keith feels his heart stop, until a goofy grin spreads across Shiro's face.
"We just had sex."
"We did," Keith says cautiously, sitting down on the edge of the mattress.
"No, no, you don't understand. I just had sex. With you."
"Is that so terrible?"
Shiro laughs incredulously. "It's the furthest thing from terrible. I can't believe this actually happened." Keith rolls his eyes in response, but it's with affection. "Seriously!" Shiro insists as Keith begins cleaning him up. "I mean, obviously I hoped it would but I really thought it would blow up in my face and you'd slam the door in my face or—"
Keith covers Shiro's mouth with his hand, stopping him short. "You are weirdly adorable," he grins, kissing the back of his hand, over Shiro's lips. "It happened. Play your cards right, it might happen again."
Shiro's eyes go wide, before they crinkle at the corners. If he had a tail, Keith imagines it would be wagging right now. But when Keith lets go, Shiro surges up, snatching the washcloth from Keith's hands and tossing it in the direction of the bathroom as he wraps Keith up and pulls him down, smothering him in kisses.
Though the sun hangs high in the sky, they don't move from the bed. They swap languid affection; soft touches and sweet nothings. Keith asks Shiro about his plans and Shiro tells him his hopes for a future Keith has already lived. Lunch is taken mid-afternoon, in bed, knocked together from whatever they can find in Shiro's tiny pantry. Keith waits until Shiro finishes his last pop-tart before he pins him down and rides him hard until he cries.
"I wish you didn't have to go, Akira," Shiro says quietly when they're freshly showered and under the sheets together. "I don't want you to forget me."
"That's not going to happen," Keith promises emphatically, tracing over an invisible scar on the bridge of Shiro's nose. "It might feel like forever, but we'll meet again. Sooner than you know."
Shiro looks up to him, something sad—but hopeful—swimming in grey eyes. "How do you know?"
Keith gives a crooked smile.
"Haven't I told you? I can tell the future."
Shiro is valiant, in how he tries to stay awake to keep him from leaving. But Keith learned patience from the best, and when Shiro's breath finally evens out, he places a tender kiss to his dark hair.
"If you only remember one thing about me," Keith says to him, voice barely a whisper, "let it be this: no matter how long I have to search or how long it takes, I will find you again one day. Through space and time, I have always found you. I always will. I promise."
To part makes him ache, to think of all the trials and tribulations he will face in the coming years makes his stomach turn. It would be so easy to wake him now, to warn him. He could whisk the Blue Lion away far from Earth, to keep them out of this war. But then…that would be no guarantee, would it? Maybe Shiro wouldn't have to fight for his life in a gladiator ring, maybe he would never become lost in the endless void of his ship's consciousness, maybe he would live a peaceful life…but maybe that little band on his wrist would stop keeping his disease at bay too. Maybe the war would find this part of the galaxy anyway. At least, kept oblivious, Keith knows Shiro will survive. It would be up to Keith to make that worthwhile now.
"I love you, Shiro. More than you know."
Keith is exhausted by the time he slips through the tear in time. The lights of the ship are blinding on the other side, and Keith feels familiar arms wrap him up as Blade operatives move around him, taking his satchel as Kolivan calmly issues orders.
"I missed you, baby," a familiar voice murmurs in his ear.
Keith chuckles quietly. "I missed you too," he says. "Feels like it's been years."
His husband stays by his side during his debrief, where Keith learns three days have been little more than three hours on this side of the tear. Kolivan has questions about his time on the other side, but Keith answers only just enough, leaving out the face he'd encountered on the other side. He spares a few extra details for Shiro after they fall into his bed on the Atlas.
"The Griddle was there," he tells him as he plays with metallic fingers, sore and content. "I had waffles. And the most greasy burger you could imagine."
"No, stop," Shiro moans, squeezing him tight to his chest in protest. "I'll turn the ship around and ask them to reopen the stupid portal."
Keith laughs, nestling in as Shiro asks the Atlas to bring down the lights. "I bet the next planet we land on will be a giant diner planet where you can order as many dirty burgers and strawberry milkshakes as you like."
"That's a hell of a prediction."
Keith smiles to himself in the dark.
"Haven't I told you? I can tell the future."
Shiro chuckles, the sound soporific and blissed as Keith settles on his chest. Silence settles and Keith closes his eyes, wondering if the penny will drop.
Tick.
Tick.
…Shiro's breath hitches under his ear.
"Wait."