Shiro sat up when he heard the three simple knocks on his door.

He frowned lightly, knowing that there was only one person who would be coming to see him so late. "It's open." He called, frown melting away when the door slid aside to reveal Keith standing awkwardly on the threshold. He smiled warmly at the other boy, unable to help himself. "Keith, what's on your mind?"

Keith returned the smile with a quirk of his lips, there and gone within the same beat. "Shiro, can we talk?" There was something in Keith's tone that had a knot of worry forming in his chest. The way the other boy avoided his gaze was also curious.

Keith might not deal with social interactions well, but he had not had a problem around Shiro since they had become friends. If he was falling back into old habits and defence mechanisms, it must be important.

"Sure." he placed the pad he had been reading on the side table and patted the spot next to him, being careful to keep his body loose and expression genial. Keith only hesitated for a moment - something indescribable darting through his eyes - before he was moving to join him.

Keith dropped onto Shiro's bed and grunted when his back hit the mattress. The sight of Keith reclining so comfortably on his bed made his throat dry. "Is something wrong?"

"Hmm?" Keith looked up at him, meeting his gaze solidly for a second, before those fierce violet eyes ducked away again. "I don't really know." The younger boy shrugged. "I just...I've been thinking lately. About," he waved his hand, "all this. Voltron. The Galra. Us."

Us.

Shiro knew what he meant, knew that Keith was referring to everyone, not just the two of them. But the casual way he said it was so open-ended that he had to push his lips together to keep any embarrassing declarations firmly inside.

Keith doesn't feel that way. You know that.

"What about it?" He asked instead, to get his traitorous mind back onto what was more pressing. His ridiculous feelings were not needed right now.

Keith did not answer him right away, opting to cross his arms behind his head and stare at the ceiling. "Do you -" he began, before he scowled, the beginnings of frustration creeping over his delicate features.

Shiro almost snorted at the thought. Keith was a lot of things, but delicate was not a word he should use to describe him. Passionate, definitely. Forceful. Steady. Beautiful. But never something like delicate; because 'delicate' was a synonym for 'weak', and Keith was the strongest person he knew.

"Do I..?" The other seemed to need the prompt to continue.

"Do you ever feel like this is all a waste of time?"

Shiro frowned, head tilting as he replayed the question. He did not have to voice his confusion, because with one sweep of his eyes, Keith picked up on it. People always thought that because of his bad social skills, Keith did not understand people.

It was the complete opposite though. Keith was extraordinarily adept at reading those around him. He could read a person's intentions with one scan of their body language. It was a skill he had developed in his early childhood - far before Shiro had met him - out of necessity. It hurt Shiro when he realised just why Keith had honed that particular talent.

Keith had been abused and used for so long, hurt over and over by countless, careless people. So he taught himself how to judge those around him, to be constantly on alert for the next attack - because in Keith's mind, it was never a question of if but rather when.

The younger boy shook his head. "I mean, like, what's the point of this? Of everything? This entire time we've been running around fighting the Galra, trying to free people, giving a big 'fuck you' to Zarkon - but what have we actually accomplished? Because to me it seems like no matter who we help, or how many ships we blow up, all we're doing is prolonging the inevitable."

Keith pushed himself up. "It's not like we're actually going to win this thing Shiro. We both know it. The odds are stacked against us. Even with Voltron. Think about it, every time we go up against Zarkon, we end up running away with our tail between our legs."

He looked up at him imploringly, and Shiro was helpless against it. "What's the point Shiro? Why are we even fighting, when we're just going to lose in the end?"

Shiro leaned back, stunned as he listened to Keith's words. He had had no idea that the other even thought this way. Keith was always so adamant about fighting against the Galra, and standing up against Zarkon. To hear his real thoughts on the whole war...it was disconcerting.

"So, you're saying we should just - what? Give up? Call it quits?" Anger, tightly controlled, rolled through him. For Shiro, the idea of just bowing down to Zarkon - again, a sinister part of his mind murmured - made him sick. To hear Keith even hint at it...

"No." Keith brought his hands up defensively. "I'm not saying we should give up. I'm just...I'm -" He dragged a hand through his hair as he glared off to the side, tussling it and drawing Shiro's eyes for a split second. "This was stupid. Forget I ever said anything."

The other stood and marched towards the door. Shiro was on his feet and wrapping a hand around Keith's upper arm before he could even comprehend moving. The shorter boy tensed at the unexpected hold, but Shiro did not let him go.

"Keith." There was a command lurking at the edges of his tone. "This is a serious conversation. Don't run away." He softened his voice, knowing that being confrontational would only cause Keith to lash out. "Please."

Some of the tension in the other's body wilted, and Shiro was able to gently tug him around so they were facing each other. He moved his grip from Keith's arm, to his shoulder and squeezed comfortingly. "Talk to me. What brought this on?"

Keith's violet eyes studied him closely, with such intensity. Shiro felt stripped bare in the wake of it. Then, the other boy blinked, and the sensation of someone crawling through his mind was erased.

"I'm just tired Shiro." Keith said softly. "It's been a stressful couple of weeks, and I haven't been sleeping enough. You know how I get when I'm cranky." The shorter boy gave him a little, rueful grin. The sight of it warmed Shiro, and he smiled down at his friend.

Fond memories played before his eyes, of all the times he had seen Keith in a similar state. Honestly, it was more endearing than anything.

But he was not totally distracted. "There's more, isn't there?" He was taking a risk, pushing for information when Keith was clearly trying to divert him. Shiro was not about to fall for such an obvious tactic though.

Again, something indefinable scurried through Keith's eyes. "Sometimes I just feel like we're not seeing the bigger picture, you know?"

He did not, but as he guided them back to the bed, he gestured for Keith to continue. "I feel like we're only seeing one part of this war. There are two sides to every battle Shiro, and I get that the Galra are our enemy - I get it - but I don't like how readily we shut their side out. We act like we're the only ones who know what's really happening in the galaxy. Like we're the only ones who know right from wrong."

"You think...the Galra aren't the bad guys?" He could have winced at how pathetic that sounded. 'Bad guys'. It was such a juvenile term, not one someone who had seen and done as much as him, should use.

"I'm not saying they haven't done some shitty things; they definitely aren't saints." Keith leaned closer to him, almost crowding into his personal space. Shiro lightly cleared his throat and tried to put more distance between them. If Keith wanted to have a serious talk with him, about such a turbulent topic, he could not let anything distract him.

"But maybe we shouldn't be so hasty to clump them all together under one banner of 'evil'. I mean, not all of them can be like that, right? It's, I don't know," he shrugged helplessly, "statistically impossible - or whatever Pidge would say."

Keith reached out and gripped his metal forearm. "I just think we shouldn't be so blind by our mission that we forget that there have to be some innocent Galra out there." Keith's thumb rubbed absently along the metal, and Shiro was hyperaware of the soft strokes. He wanted to shove the hand away, but at the same time, he revelled in the contact.

"I -" he blinked heavily to clear his thoughts. "I understand what you're trying to say Keith."

And he did. Shiro was ashamed that he had not thought of it beforehand. He, more than the others, should have considered this angle. He was the oldest, the most exposed to the horrors of the galaxy. He understood war and how to play the game. He knew there would be innocent Galra out there, civilians, travellers, merchants, scientists.

He wondered how many of them had been caught in Voltron's cross-fire.

Keith dipped his head and peeked up at him. There was trepidation across his face. "Allura, I like her Shiro, and I can sympathise with her. She's lost a lot because of Zarkon. But sometimes I feel like that's all she sees when she sees a Galra. I don't think she can tell the difference anymore, and that bothers me. Because what if -"

The younger boy's face twisted into a light grimace. "What if she's so consumed by her hate for Zarkon that she lets it affect her judgement? What if one day she sends us after a target, just because it's got the Galra crest on it? I don't think I could handle it if she had us attack someone innocent."

Shiro reached out and put his hand on Keith's shoulder again, because he could see this was really getting to the other. "Hey, buddy. You and I both know that Allura would never do something like that. I'll admit that she's got a lot of anger in her, but she isn't the type to condemn others for the sins of one monster."

He smiled brightly at Keith.

But still. A part of him niggled anxiously. How sure could he be that Allura would never cross that line? He liked to think she would always rise above her hatred, but his mind flickered back to those rare moments when her tone turned acidic, her eyes frigid, and her body coiled like a snake.

She had never acted on the rage inside her, but what assurances did he have that she never would? No one was perfect. For all he knew, she might succumb to the temptation.

That thought terrified him more than he liked to admit.

Keith sighed loudly, smiling back at him tentatively. "You're probably right. Thanks Shiro," a guilty expression overtook his features. "sorry that I bothered you with this. I should let you get some sleep."

Shiro shook him a little, hand unconsciously curling higher, on the junction between Keith's neck and shoulder. "My door's always open Keith, you know that. Any time you need me, okay?"

Keith chuckled, "I know."

They fell into a companionable silence, only for Shiro's eyes to widen when he realised how closely they were holding each other. Keith's hand was still perched on his metal arm, the weight of it both familiar and alien; while his hand was resting over Keith's pulse point, the tips of his fingers threaded through his dark hair and his thumb brushing over his jawline.

Shiro pulled his hand away as if he was burned, and twisted so Keith's grip on him dropped. He cleared his throat awkwardly, knowing that his cheeks were likely dusted with pink. "Anything else you wanted to talk about?"

He expected Keith to retreat. After all, mere moments earlier he had been about to let Shiro go to bed. He did not expect the tiny hum that echoed from the boy beside him. "Actually, yeah."

Shiro's shoulders tensed when Keith's fingers slipped under his chin and brought his head around to face him. There was a mischievous glint in Keith's bright eyes. "I've been meaning to do this for a while, but something's always come up. It's a little experiment."

"Ah, Keith -" he twitched backwards, while his heart started to speed up. There was an unmistakable look on Keith's face, but even though Shiro recognised the emotion, he had never seen the other wear it - let alone seen him aim it at Shiro.

Keith shushed him, tugging him closer; all the while that little impish smirk played on the edges of his mouth. Shiro swallowed when the other swayed towards him, brushing their lips together in the softest kiss.

Neither moved for a long moment, eyes locked. Shiro took a sharp breath, mind rushing to understand what was happening.

He had dreamed of this for so long - ever since that moment so long ago, back at Garrison.

It had been late, they had been in the gym because Keith had been a stick when he first entered, and Shiro had offered to help him build up a little muscle. They had just finished, and Shiro had cracked a joke - something terrible and awkward and honestly embarrassing - and Keith had laughed.

Not an amused snort, or a light chuckle. But a laugh. Head thrown back, eyes shut, shoulders shaking in pure mirth.

The sight of him had mesmerised Shiro. It had been the first time he had seen Keith laugh like that, unrefined and uncaring of who heard. Like the younger boy had released something.

It was the moment that Keith fully accepted Shiro's offer of friendship, because it was the moment that Keith trusted him enough to let his guard down. It was the moment that Shiro had looked at Keith and felt nothing but pure, unbridled affection.

He did not remember the joke. But he did remember when he realised his feelings for Keith had become more than friendship.

The distinct, paralysing second when he had watched Keith sigh and wipe a tear from his eye, and just thought oh no.

Matt had found the whole thing hilarious - "Honestly Shiro. You are completely hopeless. But at least you've finally figured out that you've been pinning over a first year for a good three months. Now, let your good friend Matt help you seduce this young, innocent cadet. I'm thinking late-night-simulation-practice-turned-hot-makeout-session." - and even though the flight to Kerberos he had never failed to tease him relentlessly.

It had been so hard to be around Keith and never act on his feelings. The only thing stopping him being that not once had Keith given any indication that he saw Shiro in another light. Shiro was Keith's best friend, his oldest companion, his leader and his general. And that was that.

Except, apparently, Shiro had missed something.

Keith moved his lips slowly against Shiro's, pressing a little closer. Shiro closed his eyes and reached up to dig his hands into Keith's hair, pulling the leaner boy into him. He nudged Keith's lips apart and just let himself enjoy this.

He had imagined what kissing Keith would be like. He had envisioned so many scenarios, so many versions. Slow and sweet. Fast and hard. Messy and hot. He had never, in his wildest dreams, thought it could be all at once.

Keith's hands ran up Shiro's chest and pushed him back so he was lying flat. The other hung above him, grinning smugly, before Shiro dragged him down for another kiss. Keith slid one leg over his lap and settled contently in place, never once breaking the kiss.

They separated for air, and Keith bumped their noses together. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that." Shiro confessed quietly. Keith's eyes crinkled in amusement as he started to nibble his way down Shiro's throat, teeth alternating between gentle nips and sharp pinching.

His breath stuttered when Keith sucked in suddenly, harshly marking the skin just above his neckline. Shiro groaned, hands coming up and grasping at the other's hips. "Fuck, Keith."

"Not just yet babe," he whispered heatedly, and the idea - the image those soft words invoked left him breathless. He had wanted this for so long, now that it was finally happening he did not know what to do.

It was too good to be true.

Keith snickered into his neck, pausing in his ministrations. His hands moved to Shiro's wrists, and pinned them to the bed with surprising force, startling him.

"That's 'cause it is."

"What -"

Keith curled into him, burying his face into his chest and laughing loudly, the noise sharp and gleeful and so utterly wrong.

Shiro tensed under the trembling form, a sense of coldness spreading through him, mingled with confusion and denial.

Keith finally sat up, awful sniggers still falling from his lips. The grin on his face was too wide, stretched to an almost painful degree. But it was the sight of his eyes that felt like a punch to Shiro's gut.

They were a bright, illuminous gold.

A symphony of nononononono erupted in his head, and Shiro bucked, trying frantically to get free. The thing - Not Keith. It could not be Keith. What had it done to Keith? - easily kept him pinned, watching him with cruel amusement and a cocked head.

"What's up, Shiro?

It sounded like Keith.

"You look a bit pale there."

Stop it.

"Is there something wrong with my face?"

Shiro thrashed, mouth pulling up into a sneer. The figure above him smirked. The hands around his wrists tightened until he felt his bones grind and could hear the metal whine in protest. He stilled, and the pressure dissipated.

"There's a good boy." Not-Keith crooned, and Shiro snarled at the patronising tone. "Stay like this and I might even give you a reward. Wouldn't that be nice." He rolled his hips pointedly, and it made his skin crawl. He held still though, because whatever this thing was, it was clearly stronger than him. He had to wait until it let its guard down before he tried to attack.

The figure leaned over him, bringing their faces closer, and making it impossible to avoid staring into those horrid gold eyes. Shiro let it study him, and in turn, he searched its face for any sign of - something.

This made no sense. He had been talking to Keith. He had been kissing Keith. This was supposed to be Keith. But it was so clearly not.

The thing made a soft noise in the back of its throat, false sympathy dripping from its mouth. "Oh, poor you," it murmured, "don't you remember yet?" It sat back and grinned darkly at him. "Keith's gone babe."

And just like that, Shiro remembered.

The mission. Hunk and Keith being sent out, their easy chatter over the comms quickly morphing into frantic shouting and vicious curses as they were ambushed. Keith's sharp command for them to run, to leave them. The shattering silence as their transmission was cut off.

The horrible, uncertain days that followed.

He remembered how reclusive Pidge had become, how she locked herself amongst her technology, listening endlessly for any Galra messages about their two lost friends. How broken she looked sitting in the darkness of the hangar, with the eerie blue glow of her pad playing over her face, tired eyes scanning unseeingly. Shiro wondered if for her, this was like losing her father and brother all over again.

Lance. How he acted now that there was no Hunk there for him to laugh with, and no Keith to bait and needle. There was something lacking to the bright boy, as if he had been hollowed out and shattered. He fluctuated between almost religiously kept silence, and bouts of unpredictable rage, shouting and throwing whatever he could get his hands on.

And Allura and Coran, how they were trying to keep their distance, to give everyone time - time to mourn, as if Keith and Hunk were as good as dead. To accept and carry on, as if it were that simple. Shiro remembered hearing their hushed conversation about rescue and risk and replacements. He remembered the anger that surged through him at the mere suggestion of deserting their teammates.

Had they not risked everything to save Allura, when it had been her? Were they all really so disposable in the Alteans' eyes? Replaceable?

"There it is," the thing above him whispered gleefully, eyes tracing ravenously over Shiro's face, devouring ever flicker of pain and guilt and anger. "you humans are so easy to manipulate."

Its tongue darted out, running over Keith's - its lips. "Dangle a carrot in front of you and you would do anything - even lie to yourselves." It laughed again, this time softly, cruelly. "I can't believe how easily you fell for this. It was almost disappointing, really."

Shiro ducked his eyes to the side, unable to keep his shame hidden.

"And just imagine Keith's reaction. Finding out all those naughty thoughts you've been having about him." Shiro's eyes flew back to it in shock. "How do you think he'd feel, Shiro?"

Fingers clamped around his chin, hard enough to bruise. And Shiro grunted at the unexpected display of force. "Do you think he'd be flattered? He's not exactly the most experienced guy out there. He might even be a bit grateful, that someone looks at him this way."

The mockery in its voice had him growling. The thing carried on. "Or maybe, he'd be so disgusted he wouldn't even be able to stomach the sight of you. Maybe there's a reason he's never done anything like this. Reckon any of those pathetic foster parents ever sampled the goods?"

At the suggestion, Shiro's entire body pulled taunt. He breathed out harshly, unwilling to even contemplate what it was hinting at. Though try as he might, the insidious whispers circled in his head relentlessly.

"You'd be no better than all the ones that came before. Actually, you'd be worse. I mean, you're his hero, the only person he can count on for support. The one he looks up to and would follow to the end of the universe. Can you see how easy it would be to abuse that?"

It threw its head back and cackled. "Think of how you could twist him. Take that precious trust he gave you and use it to get what you want. And what you want is him." It titled its head, like a bird. "You want nothing more than to take his smart mouth and stuff it, don't you? Grab his hair, bend him over and fuck him into the mattress -" a satisfied gleam came to its eyes. "or the wall, or the floor; you're not really picky."

"Shut up." Shiro snapped, not wanting to hear this because it was too close to the truth. He had closed his eyes tightly, but that only made it worse because it was Keith's voice.

Everything, the infliction and pacing of his words, the flat drawl, the pronunciation - it was all Keith, all those little verbal tics that identified him as him.

It was wrong to know there was something else capable of copying it all perfectly.

Shiro forced his eyes open, because it was easier to tell the difference when he could see those gold orbs staring down at him. "Why, Shiro? Am I making you uncomfortable? You don't like confronting the darker parts of yourself? You should embrace it!"

It threw its arms wide, and Shiro realised numbly that his arms were free. But he found himself unable to move, as if there was some invisible force keeping him still.

"You are so weak right now. Don't you miss the power, Shiro?" The thing wearing Keith's face gazed at him pityingly. "If you came back, Emperor Zarkon would forgive you. He would welcome his wayward champion back. If you brought the Black Lion with you, you'd be hailed a hero throughout the Empire. He would be merciful."

It ran its hands over his chest, sinking down until their lips were brushing. Its voice dropped low, temptation woven into every syllable.

"He would grant your every wish. He could get you what you desire. I'm sure he'd be willing to share."

Share?

Its lips trailed from Shiro's mouth and up his cheek, burning a line along his skin. "Oh come on, you don't think he would just leave Keith alone, do you? Our Emperor does so love fire, and Keith is like a supernova trapped in human form. He would absolutely adore playing with Keith, undoing him and making him moan, taming that spark."

Shiro shuddered at the image, disgusted and terrified.

The thing licked his ear, continuing teasingly. "If he hasn't already claimed him, it's only a matter of time. Can you imagine how pretty he would be, on his knees and begging? If you came back, you'd get to see him. You'd get to talk and touch and maybe even taste. Our Emperor always rewards those who please him."

It grinned against his throat, "You should come back Shiro. Stop running. Stop fighting a losing battle. Stop denying what you already know." Fingers danced along his metal arm.

"You belong with us."