Chapter Text
Keith lets out a choked little noise and lifts his hands, still not quite touching, and Shiro knows what he wants, so he makes the move, opening his arms and crushing Keith to him in a hug. Keith shudders against him and hugs back, and Shiro knows the armor can’t be comfortable and Keith holds on tight, as though terrified Shiro will disappear again.
And the thing is, Shiro knows he’s going to. He’s not going to be staying with This Keith. This Keith, from an undetermined reality. Shiro’s going to leave him behind.
This Keith will get just a taste of Shiro, back from wherever His Shiro has disappeared to, and then he’ll be alone again.
But maybe a taste will be enough, for now.
He lets Keith cling as long as he wants. Keith feels good in his arm, even though he’s smaller than Shiro is now used to. More fragile, with slim little wrists. Shiro could easily hold both of Keith’s wrists in one hand if he wanted to.
The dark thing swirls up inside him again, headache lessening slightly as Shiro indulges it. Indulges in thinking about what it would be like, to hold Keith down. Would Keith struggle? Or surrender to whatever Shiro wanted? Would he also suspect that Shiro’s not the same person who left him behind?
Would he care, so long as he didn’t have to be alone again?
When Keith pulls back, it’s minutes later and his eyes are watery. He sniffs once and Shiro is mildly disappointed when Keith wipes away an errant tear track, salty on his skin.
Keith even looks pretty when he cries.
This Keith is just going to get a taste of Shiro, before Shiro spirits away. Back to his own future and a godforsaken war and fucking niceties, spending the downtime in between battles pretending like he’s not a deadly weapon. Back to a team that tiptoes around him, doling out trust when it befits them, and otherwise keeping him at arm’s length.
Keith was the last person who really ever touched him.
“It’s good to have you back,” Keith whispers, his smile tentative. Shiro wants to ruin him.
“Good to be back,” Shiro says, and means it. It is good. Good to be here on Earth again, but only because he’s here. Alone with Keith in a secluded little shack. Just the two of them, in a mini oasis amid the swirling that’s been Shiro’s life. Shiro’s time here is fleeting, and that rankles as much as it… excites. No one’s here to throw judgements or to give Shiro a guilt-filled talk about paying Keith too much attention.
No one can stop him either. Not even This Keith, who hasn’t yet had to take a life to protect his own.
Shiro stopped keeping count of his bodies long before he escaped the arena. It was wallow and go mad or stay alive.
Shiro’s alive and here and only half-certain he’s real, anymore, but he knows Keith is real. Keith’s perhaps the most real person Shiro has ever known.
And Shiro wants his own taste of that.
Keith makes a tiny, startled sound when Shiro looms back into his space. It has Shiro instinctively taking stock as he moves. He’s had plenty of experience learning what fear looks like these days. Keith isn’t afraid. He’s nervous, uncertain, but not afraid.
That’s good. Shiro doesn’t think he wants Keith afraid of him. Even if that fear has no consequences, because this Keith will be left behind. Even though that fear would be justified, because Shiro is fucking terrifying.
Shiro’s hungry. And he’s always liked Keith’s fire. It would be pointless to break his spirit. Keith can keep up with him. Always has.
It’s much more fun to play with someone who’s a challenge.
What’s the game? Shiro half-wonders to himself as he takes Keith’s chin between two of his fingers. Keith’s eyes widen and he stills, barely breathing.
“Shiro?”
“I missed you,” Shiro tells him, before covering Keith’s mouth with his own.
The effect is immediate and thrilling. Keith whimpers, fingers scrabbling at Shiro’s armor, trying to find purchase as Shiro deepens the kiss. It’s artless and messy and bruising, and Shiro tangles a hand in Keith’s hair and yanks his head back to adjust the angle for Shiro to better plunder his mouth.
Shiro swallows the high, thready moan Keith makes at the treatment, tucking it away for later. He wants to make sure Keith’s mouth is kiss-swollen and red, that he leaves bruises for Keith to remember him by. Proof that Shiro is real, even if he’s damaged goods.
When he moves back to survey his work, Keith is panting, his pupils so dilated his iris is nearly black. He’s disheveled and gorgeous and staring at Shiro in dazed disbelief.
“What–” he starts. “I–why–”
“Because I missed you,” Shiro says, voice low as he ducks down to kiss underneath Keith’s ear. Keith shivers at the treatment, and Shiro continues. “Because I’ve been thinking about you. Because you’re one of the reasons I was able to make it back.”
Keith’s next noise is wounded, and he reaches for Shiro first, this time. Shiro obliges, proud of him, pressing him back into the door.
“I think,” Shiro growls next when he pulls back again. “That you should welcome me home properly.”
Keith nods fervently. “Whatever you want.”
Oh, he makes it so easy. Shiro grins, sharklike. “Good boy.”