Love isn’t earned in blood and devoted silence, but it takes them years to figure that out.
"I don't have anyone else," Shiro starts, and that at least is honest. "But we can only have family at the launch. We can only talk to family on the mission, and you—it would just be a technicality. We can dissolve it when I get back, but—“
Keith is so open, and so unwitting. He’s got a blind spot for Shiro as wide as his heart.
“Will you marry me?”
Sheith prompts, requests, and other one-shots.
32. the way home | my across realities zine piece with galra!keith and garrison!shiro
Shiro steps forward as best he can in the rubble strewn over the upturned floor. “You’re injured. Let me help you.”
The boy stares up at him from under his lashes and now, at last, he’s getting somewhere. The boy starts to reach for his hand, but seizes up, eyes focused on something behind Shiro. Shiro spins and there’s backup, a moment too soon, weapons in hand.
It's hard to avoid the man you're in love with when his face is everywhere, but Shiro is doing his best. Of course, his first mistake was assuming Keith would let him go without a fight.
“Who did this?” he asks, mostly to himself.
The rest of the crew are doing an admirable and very false job of pretending to be hard at work. “This isn’t appropriate,” Shiro mutters and picks up the Keith doll to velcro its shirt closed. His fingers brush some hidden button and the doll comes alive.
“You can save the Earth!” it says in someone else’s voice.
Shiro closes his eyes and gathers his strength. “Whatever is going on here… it better not be.”
Keith takes a swim, gains a secret admirer, and finds something to live for.
There's a cut on his bottom lip, a row of tiny lacerations that smart when he pulls at them to get a better look.
He doesn't notice the bruise on his upper arm until the next day. He catches the edge of it at the corner of his eye when he's pulling on a fresh shirt: blue lines, like stripes, but when he turns and twists to see how they ring his arm, he realizes what they look like.
The lines are like fingers. It’s a handprint.
Shiro gets his groove back.
“We got divorced,” Shiro explains. Two days ago, he doesn’t say. The breakup was months before anyway. “Just me and the cats now.”
Keith is still staring at his hand. When he speaks, his voice is rough. “Cats, huh? Wasn’t enough to pilot one?”
It startles a laugh out of Shiro. “These are less well behaved.”
Keith smiles. “That's hard to believe.”