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Shiro didn't look any different, but he did.Ever since Shiro had escaped from the Galra ship, Keith had felt as though there was something a bit wrong about him. The scar that curved from Shiro's collarbone to the apex of his shoulder had shifted a little to the left; Keith had tried not to think about it, reasoning that he shouldn't have stared hard enough to notice in the first place. He'd blamed the difference in Shiro's haircut on his own shoddy craftsmanship. And the faraway look in Shiro's eyes, as though a veil obscured his uncomplicated, enduring gaze—Keith assumed he noticed this because he was getting older.He must've mistaken his attachment to Shiro for real understanding, he reasoned. Now, with age had come depth perception. Keith was twenty. He saw that the distance between the two of them was insurmountable.Keith heard Allura and Krolia speaking. They urged Shiro to get some rest, but the exact words were all peripheral to Keith. He watched Shiro's mouth move. It curled into a smile, then a laugh. Labored, but glorious nonetheless.The off parts of Shiro's clone body rearranged themselves before Keith's eyes. Like the soul was the missing thing. With that piece returned to Shiro's body, every bone had slotted back into its correct socket. The clone had been living and breathing, too, or else Keith wouldn't have been willing to die for him. But this Shiro was primary, the body that Keith had followed for years now. He had been breakable, loose-limbed as Keith hugged him. He was unmistakably real.Looking at Shiro took an almost all-consuming effort. It reminded Keith of floating in deep space, how everything became pressurized and remote in his ears.Keith said he'd walk Shiro down to their living quarters. He might've interrupted Allura and Krolia's conversation—he couldn't tell.Shiro sat up in the chrysalis, his arms shaking with the exertion. He made a feeble attempt at going on his own. Mere hours into his resurrection, and he was already throwing self-preservation to the wind. Only a few steps later, Shiro's knees gave out. He fell into Keith's arms for the second time that day.Pliant, to Keith's surprise, and for a fleeting moment he was scared that this wasn't the Shiro he knew at all. Keith reminded himself that it was.With an arm looped around Shiro's waist, Keith got them both down to Shiro's old quarters. A hydraulic hiss, and the doors slid shut behind them.Keith flushed. The bedspread was pushed up, and his pajama pants were strewn over the side of the bed, and his dirty socks were on the floor. If he hadn't been responsible for keeping Shiro upright, he would've tried to scrub every trace of himself from the room. He'd collapsed from exhaustion after bringing Shiro back, and it was logical that the rest of the Paladins had deposited him here, even if only to sleep an hour or two before he'd dragged himself back to Shiro's side. The Black Lion belonged to both the Red and Black Paladins now.But the way he'd made himself at home in Shiro's old bed sheets felt too truthful. It was louder than anything Keith was willing to admit."Keith, thank you.""It's not a problem. You would've done the same for me." Keith fought the impulse to run. He helped Shiro cross the room and lower himself onto the unmade bed. "Shit, wait, you need—" Clothes. "Hang on, I'll get you some clothes.""You don't have to worry about it," Shiro said, but Keith was already rifling through Shiro's drawers."It's not like you can sleep in that." Shiro's suit had been run ragged in the last day. It belonged to a different owner, after all.Shiro laughed, "You're probably right."Keith's single-mindedness frayed at the edges. Shiro was hardened and solid, but the sound of his laugh, easy and almost lyrical, tugged at Keith's nerves.He turned around and found Shiro undressing. Though Shiro had gotten his outer suit unzipped, he winced every time he tried to shrug it off. The place where his Galra arm once hung caught the overhead light, fluorescent and barren-looking. Shiro's pajamas weighed heavy, like a space suit, in Keith's hands. He thought for a moment that he couldn't possibly help Shiro get undressed—after what he'd said, when what he felt for Shiro threatened to eat him alive—and then he hated himself for the thought. Any awkwardness originated from him alone. It felt shameful to make it Shiro's problem.Keith couldn't say any of this, so he approached Shiro and silently helped him undress. He felt the tension in Shiro's neck unwind as his suit came free, then Keith started to work on his under suit. Being methodical about it was the only way Keith could calm the erratic thump in his throat.He came face to face with Shiro's bare chest, and all he could say was, "Sorry.""Why are you apologizing, Keith?""A lot of reasons.""You saved me. I'm the one who should be sorry. I put you in that situation.""Yeah, well…" Keith's face burned. With a few decisive tugs on key zippers, Keith got Shiro's under suit undone. He saw more than the thatch of dark hair on Shiro's chest. Now he saw more, everywhere. Bare shoulders accented by faded white scars, and ribs abraded with fresh pink, everything barely healed skin. Keith felt dizzy, though not over the sight itself—over the years, he'd caught glimpses of Shiro in various states of undress, some leaving him more flustered than others. No, it was because Keith knew that some of the freshest wounds on Shiro's body were from his own hand. How could he live with something like that?He heard Shiro breathe in, like he was going to say something, like he might ask Keith, what's wrong, when the last thing Keith wanted was to be offered his forgiveness."Here." Keith held out the pair of pajamas to Shiro. "Let me know if you need any help." And then he turned pointedly to face the other wall. He heard Shiro shed his space suit. The sound was like everything in his world wilting.Then, a wince. It echoed in the room. Keith's head whipped around. "I told you to tell me if you needed help.""I didn't need help.""Shiro…" Keith discarded his self-consciousness—which was to say, he couldn't discard it, but he could at least bury it as far down as possible—and moved to Shiro's bedside.Shiro had pulled on a t-shirt and sweatpants without issue, but the act of laying down proved too strenuous. Shiro trembled, still upright, and pulled the blanket up his legs. It didn't surprise Keith to see Shiro, in pain and newly alive, already attempting to reject help. He was the type to suffer in silence; Keith prided himself on still being able to hear it. Shiro's body betrayed his stubbornness, and it sounded like this: stiff joints popping, rustling bed sheets, an unvoiced please.Keith surprised himself when, without hesitation, he grabbed Shiro's shoulder and helped him lower himself into bed. Shiro acquiesced."This is why everyone always tells you to rest," Keith said.Shiro shook his head. It was a movement that should've been accompanied by laughter, but none followed. "I can't afford to rest. I've derailed our journey back enough as it is.""Let everyone else focus on journeying for a bit." Keith surprised himself again when he sat down on the edge of the bed, not yet ready to tear his palm away from Shiro's unusually warm skin. He wondered if Shiro had a fever, if entering a new body was wrecking his soul's nervous system. "Just rest. You've earned it."The last part slipped out, an afterthought. Keith didn't expect Shiro to react, really. Shiro threw himself into anything that let him avoid rest; Keith had watched him do it for years, and then he'd watched him do the same as the Black Paladin.He didn't expect Shiro to frown, for his brows to furrow. He looked miserable."I haven't earned anything, Keith," Shiro said. "After what I—"Shiro stopped talking. His voice was one of complete control, quiet, with the consonants clipped. Keith remembered this from when he was younger: when Shiro felt too much, he got quiet. He was a silent film, distraught with no sound. He didn't open up to Keith as much back then—what could Keith have done?—but Keith always recognized when something was brewing under the surface. The question had always been if Shiro would admit it or not.Keith watched Shiro close his eyes. He had a feeling he didn't plan to sleep. It was a start, at least.Keith pulled the top edge of the blanket higher, up past Shiro's shoulders, and it covered the empty space that Shiro's arm had left. Then Keith swung his legs up onto the bed. Carefully, not getting too close, he lay down next to Shiro and shut his eyes, too.Sleep made itself elusive when they weren't careening through space.The monotonous rocking and occasional turbulence always reminded Keith of riding in his dad's truck when he was young (probably too young to remember what it was). Any time they landed somewhere, Keith could only claim the most restless sleep. So he wasn't sure what to make of it: that when he awoke, his eyelids were heavy with sleep, and that Shiro was looking at him, and Shiro's ear was pressed to the pillow and his brow had smoothed out, and he'd clearly been looking at Keith for some time. Shiro's quarters had no windows, so Keith couldn't have charted the passage of time by the movement of the stars or nearby orbiting planets.They could've been asleep in Shiro's bed for only a few moments. They could've been here for weeks. Keith realized that, in actuality, he must've slept for several hours uninterrupted. He couldn't think of a time he'd ever slept so soundly.Keith blinked several times. Like a slow thing, Shiro's eyes flashed in recognition; he finally took in that Keith was staring back at him. A flush unfurled across Shiro's face, a sharp contrast to the scar across his nose."Did you rest?" Keith asked."Sure," Shiro said.Keith hadn't realized he knew what Shiro smelled like. But now, when he inhaled, in and out in and out, he realized he must've memorized the scent long ago. They'd been in space for so long, but Shiro nevertheless had an earthiness to him. Keith felt grounded by it."Are you lying?" He grinned at Shiro, and Shiro laughed."Partially. I slept some. In my defense, though, I've had a lot of time to rest recently. Being…"He trailed off, so Keith filled in the blanks, flushed with the thought that he could read Shiro's mind. Not really, but close enough. "Outside your body?""Yeah," Shiro said. "Any more of that… wasn't really appealing."It made sense to Keith. He often felt confined by the reality of his body—his lineage, his physical strengths and weaknesses, other sensations that he couldn't control. Yet the idea of existing as nothing but his own thoughts in a void sounded like a nightmare. For Shiro, it must've been one.He understood why he wouldn't want to sleep anymore."I was wondering," Keith said."Hm?" Shiro asked.Thinking about bodies had brought his own, and Shiro's, to the forefront of Keith's mind. He shifted his ankles, itchy where they'd gotten tangled up in the blanket. A part of him had flooded with relief when he'd awoke and confirmed that no, he hadn't drawn closer to Shiro in his sleep. Aside from his feet, he hadn't even disturbed the bedding. He'd stayed on top of the sheets, a rare moment of discipline. He'd stifled the impulse to reach out and touch someone who was untouchable.After being separated again and again by time and space, Keith found the few remaining inches between them too vast. Charting a course from his side of the bed to Shiro's overwhelmed him."What do you remember about…" Keith paused, then started again. "The last thing you remember... before you woke up in this body. What was it?"Shiro didn't answer at first. In the silence, Keith hoped that Shiro would say I remember nothing, and he hoped that Shiro would say I remember everything."I don't know how to explain it." Shiro looked away, and he seemed smaller, younger, as he slid further underneath the blanket. Keith couldn't remember him ever looking young, but he did now. "It's all hazy. Like looking at pictures of yourself as a kid, where you know that's you in the photo, but you don't remember living that moment."Keith didn't have childhood photos, but he kept that to himself. "I think I get what you mean.""Everything that he saw," Shiro said, "it's there in my memories. But that's different from remembering it. I didn't live those things… but now they're in my head. So it's like I did. Does that make sense?"Keith nodded. He'd spent years of his life running after Shiro, attempting to seize his approval. To have Shiro across from him, pleading etched on his face, a little helpless—it threw Keith off-kilter. Privately, he reveled in the feeling of Shiro wanting something from him.Then Keith thought about what exactly Shiro might remember. Anxiety followed."When you say all that…. look, Shiro, it's driving me crazy," Keith admitted, voice turning jagged on the edges. "Do you remember when I—your arm?""Keith…""Just tell me. I'm not a kid, I can handle it."Shiro stalled, then he said, "I do."He looked merciful. His mouth had a kindness to it. He always gave so freely, his time, his patience. It all twisted inside Keith like a knife. He remembered when Shiro had held him down, and how cold metal had felt against his throat, and how he would've let Shiro kill him without a second thought."I'm sorry," Keith said. It wasn't even what he'd meant to ask Shiro, but in the aftermath, the apology felt warranted."You didn't come out unscathed either." Shiro's hand, curled into the sheets between them, inched closer. If Keith hadn't known better, he would've thought Shiro was reaching toward his new scar. The vertical gash was still swollen and feverish. Shiro had no reason to touch him there, and it was possible Keith only noticed the shift because he was hyper aware of Shiro's body.Keith rolled onto his back. Since he couldn't stare into space, he stared up at the ceiling above them and tried to lose himself in the immense vacancy. He didn't know how else he could keep speaking."When I saw all the clones, and we were fighting, I thought," Keith paused, a shallow breath, continued, "I thought we weren't gonna make it. I was scared to lose you. I was more terrified to hurt you. So—in the heat of the moment, I said some things that I—well, it's like. I got carried away. And I just don't know if you remember what I said, or if I need to, like. Explain what I meant."The naked honesty of the moment left Keith feeling winded; he would've collapsed if he wasn't already trapped here, Shiro's blanket entwined with his ankles and feet. He didn't know how he'd thought this bed was big enough for two people. He might suffocate at any moment. He was no more than a boy on the moon, without a space suit, deprived of oxygen."Will you please just say something?" Keith knew he sounded desperate.Shiro hadn't said anything, but Keith felt his eyes boring into his cheek. His gaze was hot on the outline of his scar."I remember what you said," Shiro said. "About… loving me.""Okay," Keith said. It was less a word, more a rush of breath."To be honest, I thought you said it to—bring me back to myself. Snap out of it. I didn't think you really…""I wish," Keith laughed. He was unable to keep the misery from spilling through. When it came to Shiro, some part of Keith always spilled out, and those leaks were notoriously hard to patch up. "Can we talk about something else?""You brought it up, Keith," Shiro said.Keith flushed, involuntary and magnified under the weight of Shiro's stare. His name really did sound different when it wasn't the clone, when it was Shiro taking the time to say it. Shiro gave, and Keith took, and eventually it would destroy them both. It almost had already."Don't start that," Keith said."Start what?""Lecturing me. Like a father, or a brother, I don't know."Keith's heart had begun to race—but nothing followed. The room went silent, more silent than space. He turned his chin so he could look at Shiro.Of all the expressions he might've expected to find on Shiro's face, he'd never expected to see tears welling up in his eyes.Panic flared in Keith's chest."Shiro, what's wrong?" he asked. He shifted to his side, reaching out instinctively. Shiro pulled away, receding against the wall like he might dissolve and disappear through it. A ghost once more. "Hey, talk to me.""It's fine—""Tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it. Please.""You didn't do anything wrong, Keith," Shiro said evenly, even as his face grew damp before Keith's eyes. It struck Keith as though Shiro had practice: at being hurt, deeply, and smiling through it. "I've had a lot of time alone with my thoughts. I've thought a lot about how I feel.""Well?""You can't help how you see me… as a father, or a brother, I don't know," Shiro laughed hoarsely, like he was relearning how to navigate his vocal cords, "but I also can't change how I see you."Keith couldn't remember a time when he'd seen Shiro cry before. He'd seen Shiro on the verge of sudden death, and he'd seen him dying slowly, at the mercy of his own body's atrophy. When he was younger, Keith had cried a few times in front of Shiro—always tightly, unwilling to let tears truly spill—and he'd cried a few more times when Shiro was gone. Now, he felt like he saw himself reflected back, like Shiro was his mirror. It was like they'd switched places, or ended up in each other's bodies. Keith didn't know what to think."How do you see me?" Keith asked quietly."I don't see you as a brother, if that's what you're asking."The only way Keith could describe it was: the blood buzzing in his ears, his body burning up, everything inside him like a falling star."Oh," Keith said."Yeah," Shiro said. "Sorry. I don't want to make things weird.""You aren't."For so long, it had seemed like there was always an entire universe between them. Something shared, something quiet that kept them separated. Now, Keith saw that wasn't the case at all. He was struck with the knowledge that the only thing between them were hands and clothes, errant heartbeats and a few inches of bedding. Keith shifted closer to Shiro, rucking up the blanket, crowding into Shiro's space until their knees knocked together—and he found that it was both harder and easier than any mission he'd gone on.All that made it hard was how badly he was shaking."Keith," Shiro said, "you don't have to—""No, I'm gonna—" Keith put a hand on Shiro's cheek, the other on his neck, and his skin was hot everywhere, "if that's okay?""Yeah. Yeah, it is."And Keith pressed his mouth to Shiro's, even though he'd imagined this a hundred different ways before, and in his mind's eye it had always been Shiro who kissed him first—and Shiro's gasp, open-mouthed and immediate, made every part of Keith twitch. Shiro pressed his hand to Keith's chest, but he didn't push him away. The heat beckoned Keith closer, and they rolled and twisted and laughed, reconfiguring themselves until Keith had a leg hitched over Shiro's hip. Shiro kept rutting his hips up, and Keith knew that Shiro's neediness would be etched into his memory forever, and Keith moaned. Keith moaned again, and again. In between kissing Shiro's mouth, Keith wiped the wetness on his cheeks and kissed him there, too.Keith's mind was blank, as black and empty as space, but the one coherent thought that returned to him again and again was I want him to forget everything else and remember only this, just this."Fuck," Keith said. Shiro's mouth was wet and warm along the line of Keith's throat. Though Shiro was underneath him, his hips moved relentlessly, and Keith was feeling lightheaded from how hard he was."Keith, I—""We should probably stop," Keith said. He didn't want to, and surely his body's response to Shiro made this obvious to him. But Shiro had said his name like that, and Keith became sure that if they didn't stop, he was going to make a fool of himself.Shiro stopped. He looked spooked. Keith twisted with affection for him."Are you okay?" Shiro asked."I'm a little too okay," Keith said. "That's why we should stop." He looked at Shiro meaningfully, and though Shiro was already flushed, his face darkened a shade further."Okay. Good."Keith moved off of Shiro, but he stayed close. He wormed his way underneath the blankets. Shiro's body seemed to hum like a live wire.Shiro was back in a body, and real, and alive again.Keith pressed himself against Shiro. It wasn't the most natural thing in the world, and it took some prodding and ow and sorry before they'd slotted their limbs together. Keith wrapped an arm around Shiro's stomach, and Shiro rested his chin atop Keith's head. Keith imagined looking down at them from the ceiling, and what he pictured almost upset him. They were mismatched and ill-fitted. Star-crossed.Even so, Keith felt like he could sleep for ages just like this. He panted, still winded from Shiro's mouth on his mouth, his throat, his fingers. All of the feelings inside him had been shaken loose, and now he was dizzy and tired from the release."It is. Good, I mean." Keith let the words muffle against the fabric of Shiro's shirt. "Right?"Shiro's hand curved around his back. He tugged Keith into the crook of his arm, his grip almost uncomfortably tight. Keith didn't mind."Yeah," Shiro said. "It's good.""I think so, too," Keith said.They slept through the night—or whatever could be called night, this far from earth. Shiro thought he'd had enough sleep to last him a lifetime, but he wouldn't give up the chance to hold Keith uninterrupted, now that he'd realized he could, that he was allowed. Shiro was keenly aware of Keith drifting in and out of wakefulness. His clues were the rhythm of Keith's breaths changing, the nuances to each toss and turn. And when Keith awoke, still half-asleep and with his eyes still closed, he groped for Shiro in the dark—and he answered Shiro's what's wrong with I just wanted to make sure you were okay and you mean so much to me and I love you, slurred together with sleepy syllables. None of it was anything Keith would say while awake, and Shiro felt like he'd been given something truly precious. Keith gave, and Shiro took, and maybe one day he'd reconcile with how undeserving he felt.And even though they couldn't get much closer, Shiro let Keith tug drowsily on his arm and shoulders. They were already flush against each other; still, Keith pulled him closer. Once he was satisfied with how they held each other, Keith stilled again. His breathing returned to a steadiness. Shiro heard it like an ache, and he tried to hold the sound like a human heart.He didn't think he'd ever sleep again, so he watched Keith's chest rise and fall until he woke back up.