Thread by @_zzs_top

what it is, to be human (a thread)
eventual #sheith | OMCs | jealous shiro

👑

Keith wakes up and he’s not alone in his bed.

Wrapped around him, muscle bound and strapping, are a pair of arms he doesn’t recognize and pressed along his back is the - clearly - very male chest of a man he doesn’t know. He’s on his feet immediately, yanking away from the hold and rolling to his feet,

galran sword already out and at the ready. He bares his teeth, ready for the enemy combatant but what he sees draws him up short.

Lying in his bed, naked as far as he can tell, is the second most beautiful man he’s ever seen. He’s alien in the way Allura is alien, almost human

but not quite. He’s got dark skin, almost as black as night, but when it catches the light from Keith’s lamp, the dark doesn’t tip towards reds like he’s expecting. Instead it shimmers, and makes him think of starlight, absurd though it may be. His hair is a shock of equal black,

a mess of curls splashing up from his head but cropped clean around his pointed ears and fading into the barely perceptible stubble crawling down his jaw that is no doubt more texture than anything else.

It’s his eyes, though, that catch Keith’s attention. Though they are closed and the man appears to be asleep, his eyes are rimmed in almost geometric markings, similar to the ones under Allura’s eyes.

Except where hers are blue, his are white with an accenting line of red that cuts closer to his lash line. It’s beautiful and unrecognizable and Keith doesn’t have any fucking idea why this man is in his bed.

“Who the fuck are you?!” he demands, sharp and loud and his whip-crack voice causes the man to stir. He’s lazy about it though, rumbling out a gravelly purr as he turns into Keith’s pillows more before blinking open his eyes to look in Keith’s direction.

They’re yellow-orange, nearly fluorescent in their brightness and unlike Keith’s they look at him in recognition.

And then in total shock.

What ensues is an almost comical period of yelling where the man scrambles and falls out of Keith’s bed. Each time he shouts Keith shouts which causes the man to shout even louder until all they’re doing is yelling at each other and Keith doesn’t know what’s going on.

Their shouting draws the attention of Keith’s closest castle neighbor who storms into the room, bionic hand glowing and at the ready. But when Shiro makes his entrance the stranger does something neither of them expect.

As if on instinct, he flings himself back over the bed and takes up a position of defense in front of Keith, shielding him with his - admittedly - much larger body. It’s dizzyingly fast but when Keith blinks again, head still spinning, it’s to find himself crowded behind the man

who’s snarling at Shiro as if he’s an intruder. The man even has claws extended, short but deadly looking things that remind him too much of something else, something animalistic, something royal.

And now that Keith has a /very/ clear view of the man’s back, he can see equally geometric markings running down his shoulder blades and kissing the top of his very naked ass.

At first Keith can’t make sense of them but then they coalesce into something familiar, something that makes no sense at all.

Though blocky and mechanical in nature… they look like wings.

“What is going on here? Who are you?! What are you doing with Keith?” Shiro demands, looking like he’s about to lunge even though he’s just in his sleep pants and little else. He, unlike Keith, doesn’t seem to be at all put off by this guy’s blatant nakedness.

The man huffs and then responds to Shrio’s demands with a roar. And not a war-cry, but a legitimate /roar/ that shakes the walls and makes Keith gasp. He knows that sound. He /knows/ this person.

Tentatively he lets his sword retract and his fighting stance relax. He blinks, confusion and wonder tangling up in his heart, before reaching out and touching one of those wings. “I know you…” He breathes because he almost can’t believe it.

The man doesn’t move from where he’s blocking Keith but he does look over his shoulder and gives Keith the warmest, proudest, most beautiful look Keith’s gotten in a very long time. “Well I should hope so. We’ve only been flying together for months now.”

“Would someone tell me what the fuck is going on?!” Shiro demands, looking for all the world like he’s about to lose his mind.

“Shiro…” Keith murmurs, unable to look away from the man in front of him. “I think this is Black.”

And then the castle erupts into chaos.

---

Keith’s not the only one who wakes up with a new friend. All through the halls, as paladins startle awake, they find themselves with surprise bedfellows. Well, Pidge doesn’t. She’d been up on her computer at the time but when she’d turned

around she’d found herself nose to nose with a personified Green and had nearly passed out.

All of them were naked which made sense in a strange sort of way considering they’d been giant mechanical weaponized lions just a few hours before.

Which was to say it didn’t make any sense at all given that they were GIANT MECHANICAL WEAPONIZED LIONS JUST A FEW HOURS BEFORE. But regardless, clothes were found, people were calmed, and finally everyone gathered themselves in the paladins common room.

It was uncomfortably quiet as they all stood around looking at each other. No one knew where best to start and in all honesty, most were still trying to reconcile what they were looking at with what they thought they knew. The lions themselves were doing better.

They weren’t oblivious to the other’s gawking, but there were much more interesting things to pay attention to, like what it felt like wearing clothes, or how cushy couches were.

Black wouldn’t leave Keith’s side, though as they filed into the common room he greeted the other lions like one would greet their pack. They butted foreheads and nudged shoulders, all expressions of affection more akin to big cats than people.

He was their leader, without a doubt, and they deferred to him as they all came together. But still, he hung near Keith, staying in his orbit.

Red did as well, but in a way that it wasn’t immediately obvious. He was also masculine in nature (though not all the lions were) but he was starkly different looking than Black. His skin was lighter and shimmered in a similar fashion to Black’s,

like cut stones sat just beneath his skin. His eyes were almond shaped and rimmed in pitch black patterns that brought to mind the markings of a cheetah, sharp wings running down the sides of his nose and up towards his temples.

His hair was a deep, deep red and shaped in a shaggy wolf cut, not too dissimilar from Keith’s but somehow less tamed. Lance had dressed him in some of his clothes which meant he was in washed out jeans and a baggy t-shirt.

Someone had rolled up his sleeves to resemble a retro biker motif and Keith can’t fathom who between them would have made that call.

Despite coming in with Lance, he parks himself near the door, arms crossed and one foot lifted to rest against the wall.

He doesn’t say anything even though he keeps darting his eyes to Keith when he thinks Keith isn’t looking. When he catches his eye, he quickly looks away but Keith doesn’t miss the way he grips his hands tighter against his arms.

Black gives Red a level look when he throws Keith another glare and Keith has to wonder what he already did to piss Red off. He doesn’t have long to dwell on it though before his attention is drawn to the front, where Allura and Coran stand, surveying the group.

“Alright paladins, it appears we have found ourselves in a very curious predicament!” Coran starts, twirling his mustache. “After confirming that, indeed, the hangars are empty, it seems as though our lions have been transmogrified into humans!”

“Yeah, we gathered that when we woke up in bed with them.” Lance squawks from where he sits on the couch staring intently across at Blue who openly chuckles at his comment. Lance had come in with Red but he only had eyes for Blue and he can’t seem to look

away from her as she sits back lazily under the attention.

Blue exudes a quiet confidence in her curvy frame that, admittedly, draws the eye. Her skin sports a creamy ombre coloration with a powdery whiteness around her jaw and running down her throat. It gradients into the rich

blue of the rest of her skin which then seamlessly fades into her hair. Someone, probably Allura or her mice, has tied it back into a utilitarian braid to keep it away from her face but Keith can see that it’s a beautiful swirl of sky blue that fades down into navy at the tips.

She’s wearing a jumpsuit and is barefoot. She keeps flexing her toes like the action delights her, and by the way it draws Lance’s attention, it very well might.

“Indeed, I’m sure that came as quite the shock to us all.” Allura agrees, a soft blush touching her cheeks. “But what we must concern ourselves with now is how we turn them back. Being able to wield Voltron is our highest priority in winning this war and given

our current circumstances it is as if we have no Voltron at all.” There’s a beat and she offers a diplomatic head tilt to their new guests. “No offense.”

“Do we even know how it happened in the first place?” Hunk speaks up.

He’s sitting backwards in a chair and next to him sits Yellow. The differences between them couldn’t be more apparent. Yellow looks feminine in nature with a pixie face and an upturned nose but despite their more delicate stature, their arms bulge with muscle

and their compact frame is boxier than one might expect. They’re relaxed, though, smiling at the group where they too sit backwards in a chair. They have their arms crossed over the back of it and their chin

resting on their arms and between the lot of them they and Hunk look the most at ease with each other.

There’s a beat of silence that clearly means most of them don’t have any clue what happened but then a put upon sigh comes from the middle of the group where Pidge and Green

are sitting around two computers that have been dragged into the room. There are wires snaking all out the back of Pidge’s as she furiously types away at the keyboard and though Green is mimicking her frenzy, his computer appears inoperational.

It’s like Pidge gave him a toy computer just to satisfy his curiosity. “According to my readings, the castle registered an anomaly in the fabric of space at around 0300 last night. I’m still trying to figure out what the anomaly was but it was big enough to hard reboot half

my systems. I was up recalibrating them when I noticed, er, our new guests. But like I said, I’m still trying to figure out what it was.”

“We passed through an unstable quintessence field that quantum folded us with parallel versions of ourselves, thus resulting in our current

humanoid transformations.” Green says from where he’s still typing aimlessly on the keyboard. He looks up when he’s met with silence and blinks his emerald eyes. “What?”

Pidge readjusts her glasses and looks at him for real now, clearly having misjudged his intellect before.

“And how do you know this?”

Green smiles. “Oh, I saw us approaching it.”

Lance chokes on his own spit and stands up in a fury. “And you didn’t say anything, why?!”

Again Green just smiles. “I wanted to see what would happen.”

As the room erupts into more chatter, Green looks over to Pidge and shares a conspiratorial smile. Pidge, herself, is half fascinated, half delighted by her lion counterpart and appears to have gotten over the shock of the whole thing in favor of pulling

him over to look at a real computer.

Similar to Hunk and Yellow, they’re wildly different in frame. Green appears masculine like Red and Black but he’s taller than them both and the skinniest of the lot. His arms and legs are almost comically out of proportion and it’s just his

mop of grass green hair that seems to balance him out. His face is long and angular too with black hexagonal patterning giving him almost a mask around his big doe eyes. He sits next to Pidge in a facsimile of her position though his arms and legs tumble catawampus around him

where she sits neat and tidy. It’s almost as though he doesn’t know what to do with all these new parts of himself and is fascinated by the whole experience.

“Alright enough.” Shiro commands. He’s standing up near Coran and is pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. When he looks up his eyes immediately go to Keith but the look he gives him is unreadable before he’s turning back to the rest of the group.

“Bickering won’t get us anywhere. We’re in this mess now so we just need to figure our way out of it. Pidge, can you and Green start scanning to see if we can find this unstable quintessence field again?”

“Yes, sir!” Green salutes cartoonishly and it’s enough to render everyone silent once again. He leans back over to Pidge and stage whispers “I’ve always wanted to do that.” which causes her to break out into giggles.

Shiro sighs again and just looks around at the others. “In the meantime, Hunk, can you get us some food together? I think we could all stand to eat.”

Blue perks up at this and looks over the back of the couch towards Hunk. “Oh, can I join ya big guy? I’ve always wanted to try food, what with this guy moanin’ about how good it is all the time.” She jerks her thumb over to Lance who immediately goes red.

The tease is a gentle one though. It’s clear Blue is fond of Lance and she cements that fact when she pulls Lance into a warm hug before following Hunk out to the kitchens. Yellow gathers the bewildered Lance up next and shuffles him off to cuddle on the couch and talk.

The rest of the group dissolves as Allura and Coran team up with Pidge and Green to talk science which leaves Shiro turning in Keith’s direction, relaxing in the presence of his friend. “Hey can we talk?” He asks Keith.

Keith gives him a hard nod and pushes away from the wall where he’d been resting but stops when both Black and Red make to follow. They’re both glaring at Shiro - though Red is the saltiest of them all - and its clear they don’t intend to leave Keith alone unless they’re made to.

Keith glances back at them and sighs, trying to give them a reassuring smile. “It’s okay, I’ll be right back. Go… sit with Lance? I don’t know, I’ll be right back.”

Red looks to Black and Black looks to Keith and they stare at each other before Black heaves a sigh and slings an arm over Red’s shoulders to walk him away. Keith hadn’t had clothes large enough to fit his frame so he’s just in standard issue Garrison sweats

that Keith thinks are maybe Shiros and an ill fitting shirt that Keith mostly wears over his blades uniform when he trains. The sleeves are cut off and its very nearly a crop top on Black, showing more of Blacks skin than is probably appropriate but he'd made do with what he had.

As they walk a few steps away, Black leans down to speak in Red’s ear. It’s too low for either of them to hear but Shiro feels their eyes on him as he follows Keith out of the room.

When they’ve left the room Shiro turns on Keith, frowning as he tuck into a semi private alcove.

“Are you okay?” He asks. While, yes, all the paladins had woken up with naked people in the beds, he had a feeling it was a little more uncomfortable for Keith who was notoriously particular about physical contact.

Keith just snorts in reply and scrubs his face. “M’fine, just weirded out.” He looks up. “I mean, he was… he was just there! I didn’t even hear him get into the room. How did they get into our rooms?”

Shiro frowns and crosses his arms. “I don’t know. I’ll ask Coran to check out the security cameras later to see if they snuck in.”

“Do you think they could have done that?”

“I don’t know what to think, to be honest.” He admits. “I’m not even convinced yet that its really them.”

Now it’s Keith’s turn to frown. “Of course it’s them, Shiro.”

“But how do you know? How do we know they aren’t imposters? Or some group hallucination.”

“Well…” And he frowns again, looking away. “I just… know. When he said my name I just knew. Can’t you feel it? You flew Black way longer than me.”

Shiro’s shoulders sink and he sighs. “That was a long time ago and most of it… wasn’t really me.” He murmurs and then drops his arms. “I don’t know, it’s not like he recognized me either.”

“Not at first but he was protecting me…”

Shiro makes a face and turns to walk a few steps away, pacing as his frustration grows. “What was that about anyways? It’s not like I was going to hurt you.” He grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Probably the same thing that’s crawled up Red’s ass. I don’t think even Lance has given me as many stink eyes as Red has so far this morning.”

Shiro just snorts and gives Keith a look. “Well I mean…. It’s obvious right?”

When Keith just looks at him in annoyed ignorance, Shiro just sighs heavily again and slumps against the wall next to him. “Well, you kind of upgraded and then gave him to someone else. To Lance of all people.”

Keith pushes off the wall and looks more scandalized than Shiro’s ever seen him. “You said I had to fly the Black Lion! That I had to be the head of Voltron!”

“Well yeah, but you still jumped ship.” Shiro says around a chuckle, shrugging his shoulders and definitely not enjoying the way Keith’s face alights in red.

He’s not angry so much as flustered and gearing up for a fight so Shiro cuts him off at the pass by reeling him into a deep hug.

Keith deflates instantly, wrapping his arms around Shiro’s middle and smushing his face into his chest. “This is too fucking weird Shiro. I survived two years on a space whale and this is too much.”

Shiro laughs and presses his face to his hair. He opens his mouth to reply but is interrupted by a gentle - though pointed - clearing of the throat. He looks up to see Black and Red standing just a few paces away, and instantly bristles.

Keith pulls away, not guiltily, but like they’ve got an audience now and he’s a good host.

He’s the Black Paladin after all.

Still, Shiro meets Black’s eyes over Keith’s shoulder and can’t help but feel like he’s being judged. Black’s orange-yellow eyes hold his own and they’re steady and intense, like he’s seeing right to Shiro’s core. For as long as Shiro lived in his consciousness,

he wouldn’t doubt that he could.

“Hey Black, sorry, did you need something?” Keith asks, smoothing down his shirt as he walks over to him.

Black bends down to speak to him, his voice a melodic rumble as he guides Keith back into the common room.

Red doesn’t even bother to hide the death glare he’s giving Shiro. He holds it the entire time Black and Keith walk by him and only breaks it when they’re past and he turns to follow.

Shiro has no idea what he’s done but he can’t help but feel like he’s standing in a hole and holding the shovel.

---

Lunch is an interesting affair. Blue insists on trying every ingredient during the whole cooking process which means it takes about three times as long as it normally would and by the end of it even the ever steady Hunk looks a bit harried.

None of the lions seem to really know what they’re doing when it comes to forks or knives but they all eat with a strange sort of intensity, like they’re savoring the experience more than the food itself.

Conversation is stilted. The lions are preoccupied with eating and the paladins are busy watching them so it’s nearly ten minutes before someone actually speaks up. It’s Lance - because of course it is - who breaks the quiet, narrowing his eyes and pointing his spoon at Green.

“You.” He leans against the table, staring at him intently. “You said before that you’re some alternate reality version of the lions right?”

“Right.” Green mumbles around a mouthful of goo.

“So does that mean there are spaceship versions of us in your universe?”

Allura drops her spoon and Hunk’s face twists up in the most comical look of contemplation. Shiro drops his face in his hands and Keith just looks between them all, trying to imagine how much worse a space ship sized version of Lance would be.

Green, for his part, hums as if what Lance just said wasn’t complete nonsense. “Hm, no. Think of it less as alternate realities, and more as alternate possibilities. When the fold happened, our atoms overlaid with various other possibilities and got all mixed up.”

Lance looks a little disappointed at the fact that there isn’t a mech version of himself out there somewhere and instead leans back in his chair, still regarding Green with a critical look.

“Remind me again how you can be so smart but you’ve been using the wrong side of your fork this whole time?”

“Well, as a ship I’ve always needed to know about quantum possibilities. When have I ever needed to use a fork?”

Green twirls the fork around his fingers and grins right back. Briefly, for just a moment, Keith takes satisfaction from the understanding that maybe Lance has met his match.

But then he realizes that this just means there’s two Lances now and that one has Pidge’s intellect and the thought terrifies him into silence once again.

He’s sitting between Black and Red and across from them is Yellow and Shiro. Yellow’s been keeping up a steady stream of conversation and Keith admits he feels more comfortable in their presence than he expected. It’s like they exude chill, not so dissimilar to Hunk,

but without his particular brand of anxiety. They also don’t know what to do with the utensils by their plate but don’t seem at all out of place when they just start eating with their fingers.

Black eats like Yellow, with his hands, and Keith ignores the flush he feels creeping up his cheeks when he sees him sucking goo off his fingers while talking to Allura. Instead he turns towards Red who, like him, has just been pushing food around his plate.

“Not hungry?” He asks and Red startles, like he hadn’t expected Keith to talk to him despite sitting on Keith’s other side.

He quickly hides his surprise under a not-quite-there scowl and shrugs his shoulders disagreeably.

“S’fine.” He grunts, dropping the spoon and crossing his arms over his chest, turning his face away from Keith some. “It’s about as good as I thought it would be after how you described it.”

Keith frowns. “How I described it?”

“Yeah, you know… before. You would say it tasted about as good as wallpaper paste.”

“Wait, you remember that? That was right when I first woke you up.”

Red shrugs his shoulder and turns his face further away though not before Keith sees the beginnings of a blush crawling up his cheeks. “I remember a lot from that time…”

Keith watches him then heaves a deep sigh. He needs to fix this but he’s not quite sure how.

It’s not like they actually talked before, not like they are now. It was all… emotions before, vibrations and connections and quintessence. Not words. Not actions. Not like this.

Keith’s never been good at reading people’s emotions at the best of times and Red’s a whole other ballgame. He doesn’t even know where to start.

When he’s just starting to worry that he’s out of his depth, he feels a warm hand clasp the back of his neck. He turns towards Black and finds him leaning down so their faces are tucked close together.

His thumb keeps swiping the sensitive skin behind Keith’s ear and it’s as distracting as it is grounding. “I don’t know what to say to him.” He whispers without preamble. Somehow he doubts Black needs it.

“No?” Black asks, his lips quirking up into a handsome smile. “I think you do.” He squeezes his hand and Keith frowns. When Keith doesn’t get it right away Black lifts his hand and instead pushes Keith’s hair off his brow, tucking it behind his ear.

“Red’s temperamental, quick to anger, full of emotions that don’t know where to go.” Keith holds his gaze and Black smiles again. “Sound like someone you know?”

Now it’s Keith’s turn to blush under Black’s attention.

He’s grown since he took up the mantle of the Black Paladin, matured into the person the position demands. But sometimes he still feels like the lost little kid chasing ghosts in the desert, hoping they stop long enough to take his hand.

Looking at Red now, he sees himself in the rigid set of his shoulders, sees his own defensiveness reflected in his eyes. He might be flying Black now, but at one time, not too long ago, Red was everything he called home.

He looks over to him, studies his profile as he holds himself apart from the group. Black butts his forehead against Keith’s temple then nudges him over so that Keith leans towards Red instead. “Hey.” Keith murmurs, nudging Red’s shoulder and cocking his head towards the door.

“C’mon. I know a place you’ll like better than this.”

Red lifts a brow but doesn’t resist as they both stand from the table and quietly make their escape.

Black watches them as they duck out, smiling to himself.

His hand rests on the back of Keith’s now empty chair and he can still feel the residual heat left behind. He taps his fingers against it idly then turns back to the group and pretends he doesn’t see the way Shiro grips his fork so hard it bends.

---

“Where are we going?” Red asks as he walks along with Keith, casually looking around the vast castle walls as if none of this is impressive. It’s a front of course, and a poorly concealed one, but Keith can’t begrudge him his coping mechanisms.

He used to act the same way when he was in a situation that made him uncomfortable and Red’s seemed that way all morning. But if he’s anything like Keith, then there’s one surefire way to get him to relax.

“The training room.” Keith says around a challenging grin as he pushes open the door and waves Red in.

Red’s change in demeanor is immediate. He drops the put-upon disinterest and moves into the room eagerly. If he remembers Keith complaining about the taste of food goo,

he surely remembers all the times Keith talked about training. About the catharsis he felt putting his anger somewhere productive. About the release he /still/ feels after he pushes his body to the limit.

All Keith’s life he’s felt like a little spark of wildfire contained in a jar and it wasn’t until he got here, until he flew /Red/ that he felt anything akin to physical contentment.

And he knows he’s said as much to both his lions. Of course, at the time, he didn’t think either

of them could really hear him. It was more like talking to a house plant. Sure these house plants had ion blasters that could take out whole Galra warships, but still. There’ll come a point where he has to reckon with exactly everything he might have divulged on their long trips

through space but right now he’s much more concerned with entertaining Red.

“Does it live up to expectations?” He asks, grinning as he watches Red move to the middle of the room and slowly spin as he looks around.

The angular lines of his markings soften into something else when he smiles, his wide orange eyes taking in everything he can see. “When do the robots drop from the ceiling?”

Keith barks out a laugh. “Oh, uh, you can program it to do that but I figured it could just be you and me today.” He says this as he moves over to some lockers near the side of the room where they stash their gear. He yanks off his own shift and kicks off his shoes,

leaving himself just in loose leggings and bare feet. “Here, put these on, they’ll be more comfortable than jeans.”

Red comes over and takes the offered sweats, rubbing the fabric between his fingers before divesting himself of his own clothing and changing into Keith’s.

Like Black, he has absolutely no shame stripping right there in front of Keith and Keith only just turns around in time to miss Red’s more intimate bits when he shoves his pants down his hips without warning.

Keith totally doesn’t blush and instead turns to gather two poles for them to practice with. They’re light, made of fiberglass or a similar inorganic material, but he doesn’t know what type of training this Red might have come over with.

They barely knew what to do with forks and spoons, he doubts they can handle anything more than basic moves.

But he also knows that if Red is anything like himself then he doesn’t want to be coddled.

Keith appreciated nothing more than being thrown into the fire and trusted to figure his shit out and so when Red turns to face him - shirtless as well - Keith tosses him his pole and is proud when he catches it out of the air.

“What’s this for?” Red asks as he looks at the stick in confusion, following Keith to the center of the ring. He’s just starting to swing it back and forth when Keith jump-steps forward and thwaps him on the back of his arm.

“One, zero.” He says then winks and darts back, exaggerating his stance so Red can see.

“Ow, what the fuck?” Red whines, rubbing his tricep and turning with a scowl.

Keith lunges again and clips him in the ankle, not enough to bruise but definitely enough to smart. “Two, zero.”

Red growls, a low rumble caught in his throat, and turns to mirror Keith’s stance. The next time Keith lunges, Red’s able to dodge and Keith’s staff clacks against the floor mats with a disappointing thump.

Keith grins, proud, and slowly Red mirrors that as well, tipping his chin down to return Keith’s heavy stare. Red makes the first move next, feinting to the side to duck around Keith’s left and swinging the stick at his knees.

Keith hops up and the staff swipes under his bare feet but it’s close enough that Keith can feel the cool air on his toes. He comes down into a crouch then pushes off into a roll as Red brings his stick up and then down, trying to get Keith across the shoulders.

As Keith comes back up to his feet, and tosses his stick to his other hand, he spins to crack it against the back of Red’s thighs, making the other man hiss and stumble from the sting. “Three, zip. C’mon Red, I thought you were faster than this!”

He holds out his arms and walks backwards towards the middle of the room again, goading Red towards him. “What, has Lance made you lazy?”

Red lunges and he’s everything Keith remembers and more. He goes straight at him, his speed blinding, then at the last second, just as Keith

is getting ready to dodge, he kicks himself into the air and flips over the other, bringing his staff down and across Keith’s cheek before he lands in a tumble behind him. “One, three.” He says, breathing heavy, then throws Keith a wink over his shoulder. “And I got first blood.”

Keith reaches up and touches his lip. There’s a welt on his cheek from Red’s hit but it’s the split lip that causes him to grin. The copper taste of his own blood gets his heart racing and he takes off after Red, intending to return the blow.

They continue to dance around the room like that for the next hour. Red picks up the moves quickly and his speed, which he always had as a ship, manifests itself here as well. Like Keith he learns the contours of his body fast and when he’s not quick enough to

get out of the way of Keith’s staff, he figures out how to twist away from the worst of it instead. He gets better and each time he progresses Keith pushes harder. It’s a thrill, fighting with Red in this way, so much like their dog fights in space, but somehow so much better.

Keith lands more blows than Red in the end but the fact that he keeps up at all is impressive. And not only keeps up, but puts Keith through his paces. They both sport welts and bruises all over their exposed chests and arms by the end and Keith’s lip

continues to trickle blood slowly each time he grins and reopens the wound.

“You gonna quit on me, Red?” Keith asks, challenges. They’re both exhausted, chests heaving and drawing in air, but that spark is still there, the thrill of competition and the minute Keith blows on it he sees it ignite in Red’s eyes.

“Never have, never will, sweetheart.”

He says it like a promise, like a reminder, and in the moment it takes Keith to register the pet name he used to use for Red in the quiet hours of their time together, Red tosses down his staff and throws himself at the other.

Strong arms wrap around Keith’s middle and slam him to the mats. Whatever primal instinct Red was holding back before, he unleashes now, rolling them until he gets Keith face down.

Fingers dig into Keith’s hair and grip it tight while Red’s other hand twists Keith’s arm behind his back to pin it in place.

The shock more than the position holds Keith where he’s at and it’s all he can do to hold back the moan he feels bubbling up when Red yanks his head off the mats by his hair, leaning down to whisper in his ear. “Yield.” He purrs.

Except Keith has never gone down without a fight and he doesn’t intend to start now so he taps into his own galran instincts and snarls back a no. Then, with his free hand he reaches behind him, grabs the back of Red’s neck and yanks.

Red melts under the rough touch to his scruff, just for a moment, but it’s enough for Keith to roll Red off his back and get a knee into his gut to swap their positions.

Red slams down into the mat with a painful sounding ‘oof’ before Keith pins both his arms with his knees and gets a hand on his throat.

He grips it, tight enough to be a warning but not enough to cut off his air and the change in the other is immediate.

Red’s eyes are wide but his stare is dark, calculating, animalistic in all the ways Keith feels right now. Their bodies are heaving for air and each time Red draws in a breath, Keith feels the other’s chest expand against his own thighs.

He leans over Red, watching, sweat dripping off his lips and falling to Red’s cheek and though he says nothing, his mind is an orchestra of sound.

His hand tightens just a little.

Red just barely moans.

And then Shiro walks into the room with Black.

---

At first Keith doesn’t even register the others. He’s so absorbed in the energy he and Red have created that it takes Shiro calling his name a few times for him to finally tune in. When he does, he turns and sees the both of them approaching,

Shiro looking tentative, Black something else. He doesn’t know the expression, can’t piece it together right now, but it’s something bordering on interested, something akin to smug.

Red makes another noise under him, his eyes also on Black, and Keith thinks he only hears it because of his heightened Galran senses. It’s like Red is reaching out to his leader and there’s a yearning in his rumble, like words are too complicated for his newly born mouth.

“Keith?” Shiro calls again, drawing his attention back once more. “Is everything alright?” He asks, careful, approaching with a hand outstretched as if he’s going to intervene. “Can you let go of Red’s throat for me?”

Keith only realizes he’s still holding on when he feels Red’s adams apple bob under his hand as he swallows. He doesn’t look scared, however, and Keith can still feel the rapid press of his chest between his legs so he doesn’t think he needs to panic.

Instead he eases off a little, tempering what would be a dramatic shift in pressure into something slow, leading. His hand drags down the front of Red’s throat and then off entirely. Red’s eyes flutter shut and Keith’s mouth goes dry.

When he looks up again, Shiro’s blushing.

He also still looks concerned which is not an expression Keith likes seeing on his face so he offers him a smile. “Hey Shiro.” He murmurs, and his voice is gravel. It surprises them both and Shiro’s flush paints his ears now, his face practically aflame.

“H-hey Keith, everything alright?” He’s not approaching like he was before, like they are both wild animals, but he still looks unsure, eyes darting from Keith to the still prone Red who hasn’t tried to move from his current position.

Keith finally stands, rolling back on his heels and gently lifting off the other. “Yeah ‘course. I was just showing Red how to use the training room.” He murmurs and while that is, in fact, true it still feels a little misleading even to his own ears.

“Right, training.” Shiro murmurs, reaching out to help Keith step back so he’s not standing over Red anymore. When there’s room, Keith leans down and pulls Red up by his hands, holding him steady until he’s good on his feet.

That’s when Black finally approaches. He’s casual as he comes close, hands shoved into the pockets of the light zip-up someone has given him and he smiles at the three of them like he expected this all along.

“Did you have fun?” He asks Red and immediately lifts his arm when the other comes over to lean against his side.

And unlike this morning, Red is grinning. His face is still flushed - making his already graphic markings stand out even more - and his eyes are wild.

The shaggy hair around his face is sticking to the sweat on his brow and neck and for the first time since everything happened, he looks excited to be alive.

The pride Keith feels in his chest is nearly overwhelming. He sees the fire in Red’s expression as he recounts their session, sees the excitement as he explains what it felt like to have a /form/ and he

can’t help but feel like that was what he must have looked like the first time he piloted Red. To be free, to be fast, to have no one yelling at him or demeaning him or telling him he wasn’t good for anything.

The first time he put his hands to Red’s controls and shot himself into the stars, he felt like he could do anything.

Red looks like that now and the realization is humbling. A whole new world has opened up before him and Keith’s the one to show him just how much fun it can be.

Suddenly a new light clicks on in Red’s expression and he pulls back with a wild grin, looking up to Black. “I need to go tell Lance.” He breathes and then lets out a laugh as he takes off out of the room. “I need to go tell Lance!”

Keith might have been Red’s first pilot but Lance is his current one and Red doesn’t let Lance pilot him because he HAS to. He does it because he believes in Lance. They have their own partnership, something Keith doesn’t feel the need to examine.

The fact that Red has someone else he can be friends with too is enough for him.

Red’s excitement is infectious and it causes a grin to spread over Keith’s face. He looks up to Shiro, expecting to see a laugh of his own, but instead he looks troubled.

The blush is gone from his cheeks and he tries to hide it but Keith can see it when their eyes meet again. He’s unhappy but Keith can’t fathom why. “Shiro?”

Shiro blinks and then looks away, shaking his head and plastering on a smile. “I’m glad you had fun.” He murmurs,

glancing up to Black and then away again. When Keith steps towards him he steps away, offering a small smile and ducking his head like he forgot something. “I’m, ah, going to go check on Pidge and Green, make sure they haven’t disassembled something important.”

He chuckles and backs up more and then turns and stalks out of the room.

Keith’s left standing there, confused. He blinks, unsure of what just happened and only shakes out of it when Black comes up and touches the back of his neck.

Keith meets his eyes and frowns, feeling small after having just felt so alive. “What did I do?”

Black huffs, unhappy, and pulls Keith close. “Nothing Keith, you did nothing wrong.” He murmurs and nuzzles his face against his temple.

“Then why does it feel like I did?” He asks, expression hurt.

“Because sometimes that’s what happens when someone can’t figure out what they want.”

---

Keith doesn’t seek Shiro out, but as he and Black make their way back from the training room they run into Blue and she mentions seeing Shiro duck away with Yellow. At least he’s not alone, though a

heaviness sits in Keith’s gut like he had something to do with whatever’s upsetting Shiro.

Black doesn’t let him dwell on it. As they walk, he keeps dropping little touches here and there.

Every time Keith has a far away look in his eyes, fingers skim his elbow, the small of his back, the palm of his hand. It feels accidental at first, like they’re just walking too close to each other, but by the third time it happens, it makes Keith wonder.

And, frankly, he appreciates the distraction. He doesn’t understand the pull he’s feeling towards Black but it’s something that comes so natural that he doesn’t feel like picking it apart. Everything nice in his life has come with a battle or at a cost.

The innate ease he feels in Black’s presence is a gift he’s not going to dissect. If it’s easy, it’s easy and he’s going to let it be.

As they duck down the corridor towards the Paladin sleeping quarters, Keith takes Black’s hand in his.

Black rumbles, pleased, and wiggles his fingers almost the entire way to Keith’s room, just enjoying the feeling of it. It makes Keith chuckle and the last of his melancholy slides off him in the face of Black’s quiet wonder.

Keith keys them into his room and sighs out, as he always does, when he’s back in his space. The bed’s still unmade from this morning and there are clothes scattered about from when they’d tried to find

something for Black to wear but it looks lived in and it warms something in Keith’s belly.

“I’m going to take a quick shower.” He lets Black’s hand go and heads to his little attached bathroom but stops when he feels Black following.

“Uh, what are you doing?” He asks, hand on the doorway between the two rooms.

“Coming with you.” Black says, like it’s easy.

Keith immediately flushes. “Uh, I mean-”

“Ah… is that not common?” Black asks, a genuine frown touching his brow.

Keith shakes his head. “Uhm, n-no, not really. Typically people shower alone.”

The frown disappears. “Oh. I was not intending to join you in the shower.”

Keith’s flush grows. “What did you want to do then?”

“I thought I could watch.”

Keith makes a wheezing noise on his next breath, eyes wide as he looks up to Black in the dim lighting of the room. Suddenly he’s reminded of the broad expanse of Black’s body, the lines of which he saw plenty of this morning.

The idea of being as equally exposed to the other is thrilling in a whole new way. “You want to watch me shower?”

Black gives him his small, half smile. “If that’s alright. I’ve heard a lot about showers but have never seen one myself.”

That helps douse the fire and panic raging in Keith’s gut. It’s not that he’s afraid of Black - quite the opposite - but the idea of being naked in front of the other, of Black seeing all the parts of Keith he doesn’t yet know.

Well… it feels a whole lot like putting his hand to Red’s throat and feeling him push into it.

But if Black just wants to watch for curiosity's sake, who is Keith to deny him. “Alright. I suppose you can watch.” He murmurs, trying to steady his breathing.

“Are you sure?” Black asks again, reaching out his hand to lift away some of the bangs Keith’s trying to hide behind. “I don’t wish to make you uncomfortable.”

The thought would be comical if it was anyone else.

But Keith is Black’s pilot. He’s cried in his cockpit, nursed his broken heart in Black’s embrace. When he doubted himself, Black showed him he had no reason to. When he questioned his own ability to lead the team, Black helped him see that he was more than enough.

He could never make Keith uncomfortable. Not in any way that mattered.

As if to punctuate his resolve, Keith reaches back and slaps the button to close the bathroom door behind them. He holds Black’s eyes then reaches over his head to yank his shirt up and off.

He’s in as much as he was back in the training room and yet this feels different, like by removing his clothes with intention he’s exposing more of himself in turn.

Black reaches forward and gently takes Keith’s shirt from him.

He brings it up to his nose and smells it, rumbling out a deep purr. “It’s different… in this body.” He explains quietly. “I know how you feel after a fight, after your adrenaline has been racing. But it’s different experiencing it like this.”

Keith swallows, tracking his movements as Black inhales his scent once again. It’s intimate in a way Keith’s never experienced before. He’s imagined it, many times - sharing these parts of himself with a partner - but it’s different getting to see it now.

While Black’s eyes are closed, Keith turns his back and pushes down his pants. He does it all one go, pants and underwear, shivering as the cool air hits his warm skin.

These too he hands over to Black, and looks over his shoulder as Black takes them and folds them neatly on the edge of the sink.

With Keith’s back exposed like this, Black can see the full expanse of his body, scars and all. His gaze feels heavy against Keith’s form and Keith swears he can feel Black’s body heat in the small space that they share.

His presence takes up more room than his form and though he’s a foot or so away, it feels like Black is right up against him. He licks his lip, waiting to see if Black will say something, but true to his word he just watches and so Keith steps forward and starts the shower.

Steam billows out immediately and fogs up the mirror over the sink. Black breaks his gaze to look around at it, smiling to himself as he swirls his fingers through the steam. He looks young and Keith is reminded all over again that despite Black’s obvious wisdom,

the human form is new for him as well. Watching him see the world in a brand new way is just as compelling as it was watching Red. In the moment he’s distracted, Keith smiles then steps into the shower and under the spray.

His body can’t decide if it wants to relax under the heat or stay alert with the other in the room. He’s sore from his previous training, though, so even though he’s keenly aware that he’s not alone he lets the tension drop and hangs his head under the spray.

It's wonderful against his scalp and even more so against his shoulders when he angles himself forward so the spray hits his right side. It presses into the twisted scar tissue running there and as he rolls his aching shoulder he can’t help but groan a little to himself.

“I remember when you got that.” Black murmurs, his voice lower, closer. He’s abandoned Keith’s clothes and now stands in the doorway to the shower, eyes fixated on the scar that Keith’s massaging with his hand. “You were so hurt. Red wanted to tear something apart to get to you.”

Keith shivers at the memory, closing his eyes and nodding. “I had to do it. I had to know.”

Black hums like he understands but perhaps doesn’t agree. He reaches forward then stops, his fingers just cresting the spray of the shower. “May I?”

The fire ignites in Keith’s gut again and he has to steady himself before he nods. His eyes flutter shut when exploratory fingers press into the puckered scar, and he holds his breath as Black traces the extent of it. His hand is like a brand against Keith’s

back and though Keith’s sure he’s just curious, it stirs something else in Keith’s gut.

Desire? No. Something deeper, less constrained to the simple confines of a human body. This was a yearning, to be known, seen, touched.

This was his body aching for the human connection so few have offered him. He feels all at once like he’s wanting something he shouldn’t have, like to feel this way about Black is wrong.

But still he turns into the touch, his brow furrowing, bottom lip caught between his teeth. When Black’s fingers trace the entirety of it on his back and still don’t pull away, Keith takes the plunge and turns to face him head on.

Black’s gaze darkens but he doesn’t break his concentration, fingers lifting only long enough for Keith to turn around before they touch back down again and start sliding down the front of Keith’s chest. No doubt Black can feel how Keith’s heart races but he doesn’t stop.

When he’s traced the entirety of the scar he draws his hand over Keith’s collarbone instead.

It makes Keith gasp and grab his wrist, not to stop him but to hold himself steady. His eyes have fallen closed again and he waits, not knowing where Black will touch next but happy to let him explore.

There’s a slight pressure when Black flattens his palm to Keith’s sternum and then he’s being pushed gently against the wall. Black steps full body into the shower, uncaring that his clothes get immediately soaked. Keith makes a strangled sound, a weak line of protest

for Black’s sake but the man doesn’t seem to care. He tips his face up to the spray, thumb caressing the hollow of Keith’s throat. When his hair is soaked and his curiosity is sated, he shakes the water from his face like an animal and turns back to Keith.

He’s beautiful, Keith thinks, the revelation like a strike of lightning as his eyes meet the others. Water drips from his curls and runs down his nose, gathering in the corner of his lips.

As Keith watches, his tongue - pink and human and startling - darts out to taste and it’s distracting in all the best ways.

Still, he doesn’t stop touching. As he grows used to the feeling of the spray, he returns his attention to the other, stepping closer until he blocks almost the entirety of the water from hitting Keith.

His smile fades back into a look of concentration and now he lifts both hands to explore Keith’s chest.

They settle first on Keith’s collar and hold there as Black feels Keith’s heartbeat. It’s still racing and it would be embarrassing if Keith’s brain had any room

for such thoughts. As it stands, he’s just trying to keep his knees from buckling. When it’s clear his heart isn’t planning on slowing down any time soon, Black continues on, one hand moving up and one moving down.

The dual sensation of strong fingers sliding up into Keith’s hair and dragging down over his chest nearly does him in. His eyes flutter shut unbidden and it’s all he can do to stay upright as a full body tremble runs down his spine. Black makes a noise of surprise,

of interest, but doesn’t let go, even as he runs a thumb over Keith’s nipple, and tugs a little on his hair. “Does this hurt?” He asks.

Keith shakes his head because he can’t get his mouth to work.

Black hums again. “Does it feel good?”

Keith swallows and nods, face bursting with heat once more.

Black’s fingers tighten and he gives an experimental tug and Keith can’t stop the groan it pulls from his throat. His eyes snap open and he sees his own shock echoed in Blacks expression.

He feels bad at once, like despite everything /he’s/ the one making it weird, but before he can muster up an apology, Black crowds him fully up against the wall. “Again.” Black whispers, for the first time sounding just a little out of control. “I want to hear it again.”

He pulls and Keith whimpers, his eyes closing tight as he instinctively resists. The sound he’d made was a vulnerable one, involuntary and exposing. Despite Black having a full display of his naked form, that wanton expression feels revealing in a different way.

But Black is asking and Keith has always been determined to be worthy of his grace.

When he rolls his nipple under his thumb, Keith grabs his wrist to stop. It’s not that it hurts, but he’s never been sensitive there. If he wants it to really feel good,

there are better places Black could put his hands. So Keith swallows and pushes the hand down until it rests over his belly instead, and then when Black pulls on his hair once more, he opens his mouth and moans.

It’s guttural and honest, vibrating with nerves and need. Black’s claws extend and curl against the soft flesh of his stomach and Keith knows he can feel it, feel the way the moan rumbles in his core.

He knows because Black returns with an answering one, a noise closer to a growl, which he breathes into the crook of Keith’s neck. “Again.” He demands and pulls harder on his hair.

Keith doesn’t know how much more he can take but he tips his head back and does as he’s told, hands gripping both of Black’s arms where they rest to his belly and dig into his hair.

He can feel Black’s heat pressing all up his front and he thinks that if this is how he dies, it’s a damn good way to go.

He’s so distracted and drifting that he doesn’t even notice how hard he is until Black inadvertently presses a knee between his thighs and then he’s moaning for a different reason. The sound is sharp, startling, and it causes Black to lift his head in concern.

He must think he hurt the other but then Keith is shaking his head, trying to reassure him while his mouth still struggles to form words. Black looks down to where his knee is pressing and somehow that’s more mortifying than anything has been so far.

“Sorry, I-” Keith starts to breathe, trembling and afraid to meet his gaze. It was sexual from the start, no matter what he tried to tell himself, and yet it’s the weight of his cock against Black’s thigh that snaps him out of it.

He’s gearing up to apologize more when he’s saved from his embarrassment by a jovial and insistent pounding on his bedroom door.

It’s Blue who yells through. “Black! Keith! I don’t know what it is but Pidge said she’s going to teach us a game called charades? Hurry up! We have to pick teams!”

Keith’s frozen where he stands, the color draining from his cheeks as the outside world crashes into the

little bubble they’d created in his room. He feels foolish and wrong and like he’s taken advantage of something he shouldn’t have so he pulls back and steps away and turns so Black can’t see his face. “I’m- fuck. I’m so sorry, I- this was a bad idea.”

He presses his hands to his face and groans into them, mad at himself all of the sudden. “I’ll be out in just a second if you could just…?” And without looking up he motions to the door.

Black is quiet for a long moment but then he’s

humming out his assent and stepping out of the shower. He doesn’t say anything but he lingers, hesitating before he leaves the room. Keith feels another layer of guilt piling on top of all the others for possibly making him feel bad but it’s not enough to welcome him back.

Black’s hands on him had felt so good, but the prospect was terrifying. Should Keith feel this way? Was it wrong to so badly want the touch of someone he’d just met? But HAD he just met Black? They weren’t exactly strangers to each other. So why shouldn’t it feel good?

Was this not just another extension of the other, a different form but the same consciousness?

His mind swirls with questions, all of them harder to answer than the last. When it’s clear no answers are going to come to him, he turns the shower to cold and finishes cleaning up.

It’s perfunctory after that and within a few minutes he’s stepping back out into his bedroom with a towel around his waist, trying not to accidentally catch Black’s eye.

The man is sitting on his bed, watching him with none of the shame Keith’s currently feeling.

There’s concern in his expression, concern on Keith’s behalf, and it’s enough to break the tension that had settled into Keith’s bones. He offers him a small smile of reassurance then turns to change.

Black had unearthed some other clothes for himself and had changed already,

leaving his soaked ones in the bathroom sink. Now he’s wearing an over-large long sleeved shirt and some casual leggings, one knee pulled up to his chest as he watches Keith move about his room.

The stare feels invigorating and comforting at the same time and so Keith only hesitates a moment before dropping his towel to find clothes for himself.

He dresses casual as well and by the time he’s changed he feels a bit more relaxed. When he turns, it’s to find Black smiling fondly in his direction. “Better?” Black asks and Keith huffs out a laugh, nodding his head.

“Yeah, sorry, I just-”

“Hey.” Black interrupts, standing and approaching. “You don’t have to apologize for anything.” He reminds him. “I want to know you, as I always have, as my paladin, my pilot. But that only extends to what you want me to know as well.”

Keith looks up through bangs and smiles when Black tucks them away from his face. “I want to know you as well.” He whispers.

“Then it’s settled.” Black murmurs, stroking Keith’s cheek with his thumb. He holds his gaze and Keith leans into his touch. “Is it safe, then, to assume that you will be on my team for this… charades.” Black asks, playful.

It’s enough to get Keith laughing, fingers curling in the front of Black’s shirt. “Yeah Black. I’ll be on your team. Though I want it on record that I’m shit at party games.”

“Somehow I find that hard to believe.” Black says, then follows Keith out of the room. At the last moment, with the door still whooshing behind them, Keith reaches out and takes Black’s hand.

---

When Keith and Black make it to the lounge area, everything is just a little bit different. The frenetic curiosity of the afternoon has tempered into something moodier with people paired off, chatting in small groups.

There’s still an energy to the room, but it’s electric for a different reason now.

Keith and Black are the last to arrive. When Keith walks in, Black but a step behind, his eyes immediately find Shiro across the room with Yellow, heads bent over the rules pamphlet for some

archaic board game. But like magnets, as Keith’s eyes land on Shiro, Shiro’s lift to meet his, and everything is okay. Keith notices Shiro glances to his hand still tangled with Black’s but he gives him a

tight smile nonetheless and when Keith raises his brows in a gentle ‘we good?’ gesture, Shiro tips his chin and lets his smile relax.

They’re good.

The rest of team Voltron is scattered around the room haphazardly. After Blue returned from her successful retrieval mission, she’d plopped herself down in Allura’s lap, and despite the blush on the Princess’ cheeks, she hasn’t shoved her off.

Lance is also blushing and won’t let his eyes linger on the two for too long, though he’s doing a valiant effort to remain chill about it. Blue looks like she knows exactly what she’s doing.

Pidge, Green, and Coran are arguing the minutia of charades. Despite the fact that Green shouldn’t have any idea what it is, each time Coran and Pidge come close to some sort of agreement, he tosses in some thought or clarification and it starts the whole process over again.

Like Blue, he’s taken to this whole human business frighteningly well.

Red and Hunk are in the center of the room and look the most serious, which for Hunk would be a strange expression if it were for anything besides food. But he’s explaining the full ingredients list for the

snacks he’s made and Red is listening like he’s teaching him CPR. They both look like this is a life or death situation and each time Hunk introduces a new snack, Red takes one small piece, chews it thoughtfully, then gets Hunk talking again.

For anyone else, it might seem like he was leading Hunk on, but as far as Keith can tell he’s genuinely interested.

He also looks relaxed, which is an attractive thing on his otherwise deadly looking frame. He’s been so tense all day but their time in the training room must

have helped because his shoulders are sloped, his face is relaxed, and besides the thoughtful crease between his brows, he looks like he’s having fun. Something warms in Keith’s chest seeing him like this

and he wonders if this is what he looked like when he finally started opening up.

Black finds them a spot on the couch and flumps down into the cushions. He tugs, just a little, and Keith flops down with him, going a bit boneless as Black’s arm slips around his waist.

It’s comforting in a way it probably shouldn’t be, but today has been too confusing, too eye opening, for Keith to care about digging into it. He leans into Black’s side, enjoys the feeling of being small, and surveys the room.

“Oh! Is that everyone accounted for now? Very good!” Coran speaks up, breaking away mid conversation the minute he notices Keith’s arrival. “Now it has come to my attention that there are some discrepancies between Altean charades and those you play on Earth but no matter,

I’m sure we will figure it out along the way. It’ll be an adventure for the lot of us. Now, the number one thing you must remember is that swords are mandatory!”

And from there the night devolves into madness.

It turns out that Altean charades, unlike Terran charades, has a non-zero body count to it. Now, Keith doesn’t doubt that someone on Earth has probably died while playing charades but he doesn’t think it’s BECAUSE of the charades.

But listening to Coran explain the rules as he knows them - with Pidge jumping in from time to time to try and correct him - Keith has to wonder how they’re all going to make it through unscathed.

At some point into their third round Yellow finds the nunvill.

Lance nearly gets a black eye after trying to take a shot of it too eagerly and no one can decide what it tastes like. Keith and Black share a single cup because neither one can drink it without grimacing and it turns out everyone on the ship is a bit of a lightweight after

spending months in space with little to eat beyond food goo. Each time Black hands Keith the glass after taking a sip of his own - and Keith can feel the warmth still lingering around the rim - his heart rate kicks up just a little bit higher and he doesn’t think

it’s because of the drink.

Shiro keeps looking his way throughout the night but Keith’s too distracted by everything that’s happening to get caught up in it. When Red flops down on Keith’s other side and boxes him in, he forgets Shiro’s lingering looks entirely in favor of the

warmth surrounding him. When he looks over to Red, Red is watching Black and they’re sharing some conversation, as they frequently do, without any words needing to be shared.

Black gets up to get them something less horrible to drink and Red tugs until Keith turns to rest back against his chest. People have started filtering out of the room, the frenzied energy of before making way for the quiet focus now suffusing the space but Keith finds it hard to

pay attention to anything but Red. He feels arms snake around his torso and can’t stop himself from resting his own hands atop the other’s, tipping his head back to look up to him. “How’s it being human?” He asks, shifting a little so he can see Red’s expression better. The

alcohol's making him soft around the edges and laying like this in Red’s arms feels amazing.

“Complicated.” Red hums after thinking about it for a bit. He looks serious but his fingers keep sweeping Keith’s collar and his face is relaxed so Keith thinks that’s just how he looks.

“You’re all so… soft.” He grouses, thumb lifting to run along the scar on Keith’s shoulder.

Keith huffs out a soft chuckle. “Yeah I guess that would be strange for you. It’s not all bad though.”

“Oh yeah?”

It’s Keith’s turn to hum and go thoughtful. “Yeah. I mean, sure, we feel pain and scar and stuff. But we can also feel good. The same things that make us hurt can also give us pleasure.”

“Is that all it is? Hurting or pleasure?” Red asks, brow creased again.

Keith lifts the hand that’s wandering and turns it so it’s palm up. “No, of course not. And they’re not always opposites either. Sometimes pain can be pleasure.” He presses his nails into the soft skin of Red’s wrist then drags it down his inner arm.

Red hisses but his fingers curl into it and from this closeness, Keith can see the goosebumps rising on his skin. “And sometimes pleasure can be pain.”

Red’s voice hushes in the little huddle they’re having. “You’re just proving my point - being human is complicated.”

Keith chuckles again and boldly brings Red’s wrist up to his mouth, pressing the scratches against his lips. “Complicated is good, though, don’t you think?” With his lips against Red’s pulse point, he looks up to meet his eyes and can’t help shivering at what he sees.

Red’s eyes are hooded, black pupils narrowed as he focuses on Keith’s mouth. It makes Keith feel powerful as he kisses further along his wrist and he can see Red’s eyes follow his lips the entire time. When he gets close enough,

Red’s hand opens to cradle his cheek and he’s just starting to pull Keith in when someone slides in beside them.

Keith startles, only then remembering that they might have an audience but when he looks up the room is empty and it's just Black.

Something relaxes in Keith, a fear he didn’t know he was harboring, and before he can think too deeply on it, before he can second guess, he twists around and leans up to capture Black's lips instead.

Red follows him as he moves, reluctant to let him go too far away. There's a rumble in his chest, pleased and wanting, as he presses Keith closer to his leader.

Keith only feels heat, both from Red at his back and Black at his front. Hands are wandering his waist and he can feel

Red exploring, can feel his hungry mouth moving over his neck. But it's peripheral compared to Black, who dominates Keith's senses.

He kisses better than a man has any right to, especially one who just came into being. He kisses like he knows what he's doing, like he knew this

was coming, like the inevitability of it just makes it all the better. If he was startled by Keith’s sudden brazen affection, he isn’t showing it. Instead, he pulls Keith into him, touching his cheeks, his hair, his throat, and echoes Red's rumble with a powerful one of his own.

Keith pulls back for air but no sooner has he caught his breath than Red is taking what he wants as well. He's greedy as he pulls Keith back to him, hands turning Keith's face up into a kiss that's both sloppy and delicious. Keith can barely keep up and when it's clear

he won't be able to, he submits to the power of his two lions and lets himself be moved.

Black pulls him into his lap and his legs naturally fall open around Black's hips. He's still kissing Red so the new position puts his full torso on display and with his arms up trying to

keep anchor on the hungry Red, it leaves ample room for Black to slide his hands under Keith's shirt and crawl up his body.

Keith wraps his legs securely around Black's hips and groans at the pressure to his front. He has to break away from Red to see the other,

to see Black's hands pushing at his shirt and mouthing at his stomach. How he even knows to do that, that Keith loves it so much, is beyond him but he's not going to stop him.

So in sync are they that when Keith turns back to Red, the other is already moving in, reinitiating the kiss and holding Keith close. They go on like this until Keith feels like he's about to go up in flames. Black is nearly on top of him now, face buried in Keith's throat while

Red keeps his mouth locked in a kiss. He can feel Red hard against his back and Black wanting against his front and if they keep moving like they are, Keith's going to come right there between the two of them.

He's not so sure that’d be a bad thing, actually.

Black must sense Keith's thoughts because he lifts his head and slides his hands up Keith's cheeks to turn his face back towards him, breaking the kiss with Red. Keith's never had so many hands on him, moving him, controlling him, but it feels so good and

so natural that it's easy for him to move with them. Black's eyes are pools of desire, his intention clear in a way Keith has never seen. When he glances back, Red looks much the same.

What do they know of shame, of propriety, of hiding what they need?

All they know in this moment is that they want, they want without limits, and the object of their desire is flushed and aching between them. Why hide that? Why deny any of them what they clearly need?

Why indeed…

Keith bites his bottom lip and nudges Black's nose with his own. "Well?" He asks, teasing, leading, tempting what he knows he's already got.

Black rumbles dangerously, hands holding Keith's face tighter. Keith's on a precipice, right on the edge of being consumed and just as

Black leans in to take what he wants, a voice speaks up from the door.

"Keith?"

The man in question looks over on instinct - like magnets, drawn, always, to each other - and sees Shiro standing there, shell shocked and confused.

The sight of him is like a splash of cold water. Keith can feel both Red and Black growling dangerously at the intruder but Keith just feels sick, like he was caught cheating with another man.

He shouldn't, of course, because he's not seeing anyone and no one has shown

that kind of interest in him, but the feeling remains all the same.

The disappointed, hurtful look Shiro throws his way certainly doesn't help.

"Wait-" Keith gasps when Shiro rushes out of the room. "Shiro!" Then he's untangling from his lions, choking out apologies, and chasing after Shiro's retreating form.

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