somewhere between midnight and 2 am | Explicit | Sheith | 17,3k words | ao3
âCome on,â Keith calls. âItâs literally one of your last nights on Earth. Are you really gonna spend it moping on a balcony and avoiding the people in your own house?â
When Shiro laughs again, itâs full-bodied for the first time all night. His feet kick up puffs of fine dirt as he trails after Keith down the short path. âI mean,â Shiro says, âthat was kind of the plan.â
âYour plan sucks,â Keith tells him, slinging his leg over the streamlined body of the hovercraft. He leans forward, rests his elbows on the handlebars.
There are deep smudges like darkening bruises under Shiroâs eyes that donât lessen when he smiles, and are not erased by the tired hand Shiro passes over his eyes as he slouches back over the railing. Keith downs the last of his punch and leaves his cup on the seat of a nearby chair. Made brave by the alcohol leaching into his bloodstream â the last shot still sitting like a living flame in his chest â and by the excuse of his short, cropped shirt in the chilling evening air, he mirrors Shiroâs pose and tucks in a few shades closer than usual. Their bare forearms press together on the cool iron railing.
They are silent as they watch the sun dip low to kiss the horizon, dripping golden oranges and rusted reds onto desert soil.
âI am,â Shiro says at last. âNauseous, I mean. Only itâs got less to do with thisââ He holds up his own empty cup, rattling the half-melted ice cubes at the bottom. âAnd more to do with hurtling myself, two other people, and billions of dollarsâ worth of equipment out of the atmosphere at 11.2 kilometres a second in a handful of days.â
âYouâve done it before,â Keith says, picking his nails before casting his gaze to the side to study Shiroâs face in profile. âIâve seen the model ships on your shelf, and the pictures. Read the reports, too. Apparently youâre some kind of golden boy.â
Shiro laughs; quiet, humourless, and a touch hysteric. He rolls his right wrist to one side, then the other, in an unconscious gesture. âGolden boy with a debilitating, degenerative muscular disease, about to go fiddle with delicate electronics and controls that demand intense fine motor control, on the furthest mission from Earth in Earthâs history, with a vote of no confidence from the top brass.â
His hand lifts to scruff the back of his neck, palm rasping over the soft, short hairs of his fresh undercut. Keith casts around his mind for something, anything, bolstering to say and comes up empty. His tongue feels thick, glued to the roof of his mouth.
At a loss, Keith gives in to sudden temptation and knocks his shoulder into Shiroâs exposed side, and then lingers. Shiroâs shirt is warm, slightly sweat-damp and Keith can feel the way his muscles shift and move as his chest expands and contracts with each breath.
Shiroâs breath hitches as Keithâs bare arm presses into him. Itâs a pause just long enough for Keith to curl his fingers into tense, unhappy fists and start to lean away, before a heavy weight settles across the line of his shoulders. Keith blinks and then sags into the touch as Shiro settles an arm around him.
It settles something inside of Keith, something that has been lingering dark and churning at the back of his mind for weeks. He curls further into the touch, and can feel the exact moment where something cracks in Shiroâs chest, when his plastic cup clatters carelessly to the floor and Shiro slumps into Keith, buries his face in Keithâs windswept hair.
Mattâs voice echoes in the chamber of Keithâs skull. Be gentle.
âYouâve got this, Shiro,â Keith tells him, settling for honesty as his forehead comes to rest against Shiroâs collarbone. âNo matter what anyone else says, I know you. I know youâve got this.â
He feels more than hears the weak laugh that tears through Shiroâs chest. A nose digs almost uncomfortably into the top of his skull. âYeah?â
âYeah,â Keith says, as his hands find their homes at either side of Shiroâs waist, pinkies tucking into his belt loops. âAnd Iâll be waiting right here for you when you get back, so I can say congratulations, and, you know, I told you so.â
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