.

.

Relief doesn't begin to explain what he's feeling — joy, concern, doubt, anger.

Keith's mind forces so many ideas at once, possible scenarios and theories, and he contends himself to remaining in silence, just out of the reach of the phosphorescent-blue, glow lamps.

This part of the barracks has the low, persistent odor of medicated disinfectant, and is still dimmed. Shiro looks like he's gone through four hellish rounds with the the High Generals of Teq's mightiest battalion, and somehow escaped with his skin intact and with his limbs that were originally in place.

He's more pasty and gaunt than Keith remembers, with new, healed scars. Shiro's dark, long hair spills across his shoulders, the forelock gleaming brilliantly pale-white over his right eye.

"What's on your mind?"

Keith blinks out of his trance, his arms hitching in the fold against his chest. "Hm?"

"You're staring," Shiro points out, offering a bland, faint smile.

As much as he tried to deny it, a part of Keith did believe he wouldn't see his old friend again. Not this soon anyway. The combination of the rumble-deep, accustomed tones of Shiro's voice, and his own embarrassment, sends a lick of heat into Keith's core, to his neck and ears.

"Sorry—I wasn't trying to—"

"Hey, I don't mind you staring," Shiro adds, as placid as ever. His smile twitching upwards further, deepening. "I'd rather it be you than anybody else right now."

At that barefaced confession, Keith processes this and closes his eyes, snorting softly, his facial muscles relaxing from their tension. He uncrosses his arms, approaching Shiro's bunk, climbing in without saying anything and hiking a leg over Shiro, resting himself on Shiro's thighs. Keith doesn't retreat from the touch-contact of fingers lightly sliding up his sides, already underneath his red-and-white jacket. Shiro's prosthetic hand rucks up his dark tee a little, exposing his abdomen.

"You said everything you needed to say." About escaping from the Galra warship, crash-landing and finding Voltron. Finding me. "That's good enough for all of us," Keith says decisively, nodding.

Shiro lets out a brief, warm laugh, their mouths drifting in, and no quintessence that ever existed could compare to the thrill-dizzying sensation of this — Keith's lips pressing on top of his, stiffly and desperate, He feels Shiro exhaling his name, softening the kiss. His palm cups against Shiro's cheek, Keith's thumb raking over the dark, prickle scruff.

"Kee," comes out as another laugh, far more dulled and solemn this time. Shiro pulls away, meeting their eyes, gripping comfortably onto Keith's hips. "I don't need—"

"—I know," Keith says monotonous, but he frowns stubbornly. "I know you don't need babying."

That's not what he's trying to do. Shiro has been missing, without any evidence left behind of his capture, and — Keith groans, tossing his head back, clenching his jaw. He shuts his eyes again, when the other man sucks and bites a rougher, open-mouthed kiss to Keith's neck.

Maybe it's time for a long and hard distraction.

.

.


Voltron isn't mine. It's my very first fic for Voltron fandom! I'm so thrilled! I've basically avoided watching because people are a bunch of fandom wankers, but hey... I've never let that stop me before. It'll never happen now and after either! I've fallen in love most of the pairings, but Sheith has the OTP spot in my heart right now. Any thoughts/comments are deeply appreciated! I'm just happy to make something - and also for my dude Emily (glove23 on FFN and AO3) ilybiangslyb