if you're still taking prompts, may I request sheith number 10? don't see too many sheith fights out there and would love to see your take on it
10) things you said that made me feel like shit
(Unresolved angst ahoy. Set vaguely post-S7.)
“Keith! Keith–seriously, stop!” Shiro’s voice carries across the hangar but Keith’s feet don’t stop moving. He can hear Shiro behind him, gaining on him, but Keith doesn’t turn, just keeps moving.
The lift whirs as it arrives, and Keith presses his palm against the screen to open the doors. The doors slide open on a whoosh of compressed air and Keith steps inside. He still doesn’t turn.
“Keith! I swear to God–” Shiro’s voice cuts off as the lift doors close, and Keith slumps back against them. Now that he’s alone, Keith unclenches his fists. His hands ache from the tension. He spreads his fingers, ignoring the way they shake, and then drags one hand through his hair, pushing it back off his forehead.
The stink of fear sweat rolls off him as he lifts his hair off the back of his neck and Keith wrinkles his nose. He needs a shower.
Shuddering, the lift stops, and Keith steps out into the corridor. He looks both ways, before striding purposefully to his quarters, tapping in his passcode and locking the door behind him. Soft lights come up, tinted blue as Keith strips out his Blade armor, dropping the pieces on the floor in a trail behind him. When he reaches his bathroom, he pauses, looking at himself in the mirror.
His face is pale and drawn. Keith looks away, reaching up behind his neck to grab at the seam of his pressure suit and releasing the catch so he can peel it off. Dark bruising blooms along revealed skin, and Keith hisses in a breath as he has to twist in order to pull his arms out.
Once undressed, Keith leans into the shower, turning it on, as hot as he can stand, and steps in. Water sluices over him, the heat sinking into his skin. Keith closes his eyes, leaning forward to press his hands against the wall, cool metal under his palms.
Behind his eyelids, all he can see is the billowing explosion, all he can hear is the way Lance had yelled his name, and then the arcing light as all the systems in the Black Lion overloaded. Keith’s own scream still echoes in his ears.
The bathroom door opens with force and Keith is startled out of his memory. Shiro appears in his line of sight, and Keith jerks back, flailing to cover himself. Shiro’s hair is disheveled, like he’s been pulling it but his eyes are steely, the grey piercing through the clouds of mist in the shower.
“Paladin,” Shiro says, and Keith’s shoulders straighten involuntarily. “I should have you in front of a court martial. You disobeyed a direct order.”
“You’re not my CO, Captain,” Keith spits. He turns off the water with unnecessary force, pushing past Shiro to grab his towel and tie it firmly around his waist. “Mission debrief isn’t for another hour, did you need something or can I go back to getting changed in peace?”
“Keith, please,” Shiro’s voice has gone soft, and he reaches out. Keith shrugs out from under Shiro’s hand.
“Don’t touch me,” Keith says, “just–just go.”
“You could have been killed!” Shiro exclaims. “Keith, I–”
“You what, Shiro?” Keith asks, turning to face Shiro. They stare at each other across Keith’s room, the space suddenly claustrophobic. An itch starts between Keith’s shoulder blades. He wants to run.
“Will you just–” Shiro sighs, explosively, raking his hand through his already messy hair. It does nothing for his style. When he looks up again, Keith gets caught in his gaze. Something naked and vulnerable lives in those grey eyes, and Keith feels the fight go out of him in a rush, leaving him shaky. He feels sick, woozy with the adrenaline crash and it knocks him back, tripping over his feet until he hits the wall, and then sliding down into a heap on the floor.
Shiro goes down with him, settling on his knees in front of Keith. “Look at me,” Shiro says, when Keith buries his face in the arms crossed over his knees.
Keith keeps his face hidden. He feels like an exposed nerve, like it would take nothing to set him off. He wishes Shiro would just go. The explosion lights up behind his eyes again, the memory making Keith dig his nails into his own arms. He’s going to be seeing this one in his dreams, the same way he sees the loom of Haggar’s cruiser, and he’ll wake up screaming from this one too. Screaming because he is weak and pathetic and scared.
“Just leave me alone,” Keith says, muffled into his own forearms.
“No,” Shiro says, “not until you talk to me.” Keith hears Shiro shifting but still doesn’t look up. “What were you thinking? You could have died, Keith. And then where would we be? We need you to form Voltron!”
Shiro’s question goes through Keith like a lance. Of course that’s all this is about, he thinks. Of course. The mission comes before everything else. Keith steels himself with a deep breath and looks up from his arms. “If that’s all,” Keith says, carefully keeping his voice steady, “I’d like to get dressed now.”
Shiro looks stricken. “No, wait, that’s not what I–”
“Just go, Shiro,” Keith says, allowing the exhaustion to creep into his voice. Shiro looks like he wants to say something else but eventually he nods, and gets up off the floor.
“I’ll see you in the briefing room,” Shiro says, and lets himself out.
Keith holds out until the door snicks shut behind Shiro’s retreating footsteps before he lashes out, driving his fist into the floor beside him. Pain rockets up his arm, nerves sizzling and leaving him breathless. Keith pulls his hand to his chest, cradling his fist next to his heart. After everything, he’d thought–well, he thought wrong, clearly.
