Chapter Text
Keith successfully avoided Griffin for the next two days until the Garrison demanded Paladins and MFE pilots coexist in the same space for their weekly strategy session.
Keith had a natural habit of scanning any room he entered, the unshakeable instinct to vet any perceived threat and find the right position in the room to stage himself to face it. Almost immediately his eyes caught on the broad shoulders of the alpha swathed in the familiar slate gray of the MFE uniform.
He immediately wanted to step forward, then look away, as if avoiding Griffin’s attention would somehow also make it impossible for him to notice Keith.
But Griffin was already staring back, almost as if his eyes had been fixed on the door - waiting for the Paladins to enter. It was ridiculous. Keith was ridiculous. But his limbs seemed to suddenly disconnect from the nervous system that usually convinced them to work.
Keith froze, just long enough for Hunk to bump into him from behind and nudge him forward. Most of the other Paladins gravitated toward the MFEs instantly, their muted chatter echoing across the boardroom.
Maybe it made him a coward, but Keith silently made his way over to the group of Blades standing against the back wall of the room. The Blades were never sat at the main conference room table. And Keith could never be sure if it was because their larger bodies were simply ill-suited to the seating arrangement or they were being intentionally excluded.
As Keith watched the cold gazes around the room track his steps towards the other Galra, he figured it was much more likely to be the latter.
Keith couldn’t remember a single thing Iverson said during that excruciating hour, all of his concentration dedicated to keeping his gaze from even slipping towards Griffin’s seat at the conference table. He was going to blame it on the lingering effects of his heat - the strange, physiological echo of Griffin’s pheromones surrounding him during that most vulnerable time suddenly rising to the surface now that the alpha in question was physically present.
Griffin had taken a seat facing the wall Keith leaned against, a maneuver Keith couldn’t help but hate him a little for, no matter how innocently done. Keith would have preferred staring at the back of Griffin’s head than this inescapable urge to allow his gaze to slide slightly to the left and catch along the alpha’s jawline.
Keith only realized the meeting had ended when chairs were suddenly being pushed back, the murmurs of conversation rising around him.
Keith lingered in the back of the boardroom, listening to the low tone’s of Kolivan’s conversation next to him and giving the MFEs ample time to disperse. He nodded his acknowledgement as most of the Blades filtered out of the room before him, a few reaching out to brush a hand against his shoulder as they left.
When there were only a few stragglers left mingling around the room, Keith allowed himself to glance towards Griffin. He was relieved to see his chair was empty, the entire group of MFEs absent.
Murmuring a goodbye to Kolivan, Keith turned to leave as well. And froze, immediately, when he saw a tall silhouette lingering next to the exit door closest to him.
Because of course Griffin wanted to face this head on. He wasn’t like Keith, prone to making strategic exits when things were uncomfortable and reckless decisions when they were dangerous.
Keith couldn’t make out the granite of Griffin’s eyes from where he was standing but he felt it when their gazes locked, a silent acknowledgement.
He only considered for a moment how insane it would look to change his course and leave from the North exit door instead, before steeling himself to continue his strides to the door. Griffin was an uncomfortable sentinel just on the perimeter of his vision.
Maybe I can just walk past him, Keith thought, drawing closer. And we can both pretend like-
“Kei- Kogane, wait.”
To Keith’s credit, he didn’t immediately sprint out of the boardroom at the sound of Griffin’s voice. If he flinched slightly, he covered it by quickly turning to face the other pilot.
It was a knee-jerk reaction to want to snarl, “What?” in return. But the barest modicum of reason he still had allowed him to resist the urge.
In this sudden nearness, Griffin looked sharper somehow, as if sleeplessness had pulled his skin just a little tighter against the elegant bone structure of his face. The faint purpling around the edges of his eyes weren’t unfamiliar from Keith’s own evidence of a lack of sleep but they looked particularly wrong on the other pilot. Somehow Keith had always assumed Griffin’s image of the unshakable, iron-collared rising star of the Garrison could never slip, even the slightest amount.
But that wasn’t the only thing hardening his edges. There was an unnatural set to his shoulders, a tension that pulled them higher and had his long fingers drumming an irregular rhythm against the starched material of his flight suit slacks.
He was… nervous, Keith realized. And something about the sight of the alpha looking a little off-kilter set his own nerves right, resolved his panicky urge to make an immediate exit.
“Griffin,” Keith greeted him- neutral, careful. “You only came with Nadia today.”
It was strange to watch the tension leave Griffin’s body, as if Keith’s words had released a string, a rope that had been pulling tighter and tighter.
The alpha seemed to take the lack of immediate rejection as Keith’s permission to move forward, and Griffin stepped towards him - close enough that Keith now had to incline his neck just slightly to meet his eyes.
He didn’t really want to look Griffin in the eyes anyways.
Griffin was standing too close to him now, just near enough to be outside the comfortable distance of acquaintances. Close enough that Keith could smell him, the comforting scent of Arctic pine that he remembered permeating his sheets, his pillows. It was sharper somehow, an edge to it that hadn’t lingered in his bedroom.
“Yeah,” Griffin said tiredly. “She decided to take a leave of absence after all. She’ll be out for a while. Ryan too, he’s staying with her.”
“Kinkade?” Keith asked, surprised. “Are they-?”
He cut himself off, unsure of the direction the conversation was headed with that question.
“Mates?” Griffin finished for him. “No. Not officially, at least. Ryan’s been planning to start courting her for a while now.”
“Oh,” Keith said, awkwardly. “That’s, uh, good for them.”
He was still determinedly not looking at Griffin, but when he finally glanced up he felt his stomach tighten. The other boy was already staring back, the heaviness in his gaze something Keith realized he’d felt weighing on him the entire time they’d been trapped in this meeting room for the debrief.
“Yeah.” Griffin said, gaze unwavering. “It is.”
Keith refused to let the silence permeate, his pulse increasing the longer it did.
“You look tired,” Keith said instead, just to fill the gap in the stilted conversation. “And you smell stressed.”
Both statements were true, but he could gradually sense the alpha’s scent softening since he had stepped into Keith’s space - the frigid, anxious scent of pine transforming into something warmer. Keith wanted to taste it on the back of his tongue.
“I am tired,” Griffin admitted. “And I was stressed. Feel a bit better now though. I was worried you-”
Griffin stopped, abruptly - redness spreading along the slopes of his cheekbones.
“Worried I what?” Keith said suspiciously.
“It’s nothing. It’s stupid. It’s an alpha thing,” Griffin said quickly. “I was so convinced I needed to be back here, for aftercare when you-”
He seemed to catch himself rambling then, shaking his head.
“And then when you ran off, a couple days ago.” Griffin paused. “Anyways, it’s stupid.”
It was stupid, Keith wanted to say, but there was something traitorously soft inside of him at the thought of the alpha wanting to be back with him, after his heat. They hadn’t done anything, and he knew it was just the instinctual hormone response of an alpha reacting to an omega who had shared their space during such a vulnerable time. But Keith still wanted-
“I’m sorry,” Keith said suddenly - shutting down all possible directions of that train of thought. This is what had had to say, what he wanted to say since he left Griffin’s room at the end of his heat.
“Sorry?” Griffin looked genuinely confused, the expression twisting his brows together in an oddly vulnerable expression. “For what?”
Keith gritted his teeth, frustrated with the alpha’s incompetence to need the apology spelled out.
“Your room,” he bit out. When Griffin gave him only puzzled silence in return, Keith exhaled sharply. He felt his bangs rise in response, then drift back to rest against his forehead. “And my… heat.”
“Don’t apologize!” Griffin’s expression was startled, almost frantic - and Keith felt the alpha grab his wrist as if Keith was about to run away before he got the words out. “I told you, you have nothing to apologize for. I’m glad you- I’m happy you felt safe enough to stay there.”
“I didn’t say that!” Keith snapped. As always, anger was an easier emotion to reconcile with than guilt or humiliation.
“So you didn’t?” Griffin asked, hurt and confusion evident in his voice. “Then I’m sor-”
“Don’t you dare apologize again,” Keith said, more exasperated than angry now.
They both stared at each other - a strange, uncomfortable deadlock. Keith’s heartbeat was pounding like he’d just finished an hour of drills.
“Let’s just both agree not to apologize then,” Keith said finally. “And I guess I’ll just say,” he shifted slightly, “Thank you. Thanks.”
Griffin was still gripping his wrist lightly, unconsciously. But instead of freeing himself from his hand, Keith angled his wrist to bump his scent gland against the alpha’s. The motion was quick - one forward brush, then one back. But it was undeniable that he had just offered his scent to the alpha in gratitude - a gesture that was sometimes friendly but more often used with mates. Keith felt a frisson of heat along his skin with the gesture, startled by his own boldness.
Griffin’s eyes were fixed on him, pupils blown wide. He gently released his grip on Keith, so slowly Keith felt the brush of every fingertip leave his skin. Instead of moving back, away from him, the alpha raised the wrist he had scented to his nose. Keith watched him inhale, gaze unfocused and a dazed expression softening the corners of his eyes.
“Don’t do that!” Keith snapped, fury and embarrassment and satisfaction fighting in equal parts to come to the surface. “I was just- I’m just! I said thank you!”
But Griffin said nothing, and Keith was startled to realize with the alpha’s height he could somehow look down at him and also through his lashes at the same time.
“You were right to begin with - this is stupid!” Keith said finally.
He spared only a single glance back to the alpha as he left. The boardroom door was just whirring shut as he glimpsed where Griffin still stood - wrist to his mouth and watching him through hooded eyes.
Keith shuddered.
Stupid, he thought again. And then he resolved not to think.
~
The Atlas’s first off-planet mission was announced the next day. A trip to the closest allied port in a galaxy almost adjacent to Earth’s. Diplomatic stops along the way that Keith couldn't care less about. Science missions he only cared marginally more about. To him, this launch was only a promise of two months away from a planet that Keith could barely call home. And he couldn’t wait to leave.
The entire launch was clearly being framed not as an offensive maneuver towards the Galra, but as an exploratory endeavor. None of the Garrison brass would admit it outright, but the trip felt like an intentional moral booster - a strategic show of prowess for humankind after the crippling blow while freeing the labor camps.
Keith couldn’t care much either way, if it got him flying again. If it got him away from Earth, back among the stars, the half of him that seemed to make sense more every day. He was aching to open his eyes and see only the void of endless space - the comforting blackness that promised he disappeared into without a trace, only the rumble of Black’s engine filling the silence as he sped off into the unknown.
Keith felt the energy onboard shift, transforming into something a little more kinetic. Most of the crew had only dreamed of ever leaving Earth - and Keith could feel their eagerness in the same way he remembered first sliding into the cockpit of a flight simulator.
By comparison, Keith only felt grounded. It was as if something settled in him knowing he could finally, blessedly leave the planet he was fully prepared to abandon forever the second he first saw the Red Lion.
It was going to be a large crew onboard the Atlas - mechanics, medics, geoscientists, and Garrison officials. A ship as big as the Atlas demanded as much, but it still felt gratuitous to Keith. He liked it when it was just the Paladins, just him and his mother. He didn’t know half the people’s names on this ship and he didn’t care to. They would be strangers when they started the mission and no different when it ended.
The weeks preceding the Atlas’ launch were packed with endless safety drills and briefings. De-briefings. Flight plan descriptions and officer role explanations. Keith had to be pulled off of his Blade work completely, and when he managed to make it over to the Galra compound to visit his mother the last week before the launch, the atmosphere was… bleak.
The compound looked strangely empty, whitewashed walls still pristine in their newness but the freshly paved streets barren. The only evidence that the Galra hadn’t completely abandoned the place were the lights he could see flickering on in the buildings along the asphalt path.
“What’s wrong?” Keith asked Krolia by way of greeting as he slipped inside his mother’s home. Krolia’s lavender skin was dark beneath her eyelids and she seemed thinner, frailer. It was strange seeing her sturdiness vanish in what only could have been a few weeks' time.
“You shouldn’t be here, kit,” Krolia told him tiredly.
“Why not?” Keith asked, agitated. “You look sick, what’s wrong?”
“I’m not sick,” Krolia said. “But perhaps I shall be soon. The contagion that plagued young Nexia is spreading, it appears. Throughout the compound.”
“What?” Keith hadn’t heard anything from the countless meetings onboard the Atlas. None of the Blades who regularly attended gave any indication of a larger problem at the compound. Keith wondered if they were trying to still an oncoming panic.
“The human doctors are investigating. We had to inform them of Nexia’s condition, near the end.” Krolia said. She didn’t seem pleased with this information. “Apparently humans are not at risk for the contagion, but Galra are - unusually so. It’s unlike anything we’ve seen before.”
“How many?” Keith asked. Needing to ask, but not wanting to know the answer.
“We’ve lost three Blades so far,” Krolia said, somber. On anyone else, it may have seemed ambivalent. “All either very young, or very old.”
Three lives, taken in the span of a few weeks. Keith was frightened, suddenly, that he might not return to the same Blade of Mamora he was leaving now.
“You need to get out,” Keith said. “All of you. Deploy on missions or something, leave this solar system. They can’t keep you here.”
“It is difficult, when so many are currently in quarantine. If we do not care for them, we leave our own in the hands of the humans.” She looked at Keith, eyes narrow. “And you know they do not treat us kindly.”
Keith nodded, unable to think of an answer that didn’t disdain Krolia’s own concern for the other Blades. He cared for them, he did. But it would be an easy decision for Keith to choose his mother or Kolivan over any one of the other Blades. To him, the trolley problem had a singular answer.
“I am glad you will be leaving soon,” Krolia said, brushing her hand down the back of Keith’s head. It rested there for a moment before she let go, its comforting weight disappearing. “You will be safer away from this planet.”
None of the other Blades were on the Atlas’ first mission. Keith wondered if the only reason he’d been allowed on at all was his ability to pass as human at a first glance. Their Galra allies didn’t appear welcome on diplomatic missions, it seemed.
“I’ll check in with you regularly,” Keith said, unable to hide the concern in his voice. “And maybe… have one of the Blade’s doctors investigate.”
“We’ve already sent a sample to one of our microbiologists off planet,” Krolia said coolly. “Discreetly.”
Don’t tell the humans. Keith heard the message loud and clear.
“That’s good,” he said. Then, awkward with his goodbyes, he ducked his head. “Send me a message if you hear anything.”
Krolia smiled tiredly. “Come here, kit.”
Keith stepped forward, allowing his mother to pull him against her chest. She was so tall she was able to tuck him beneath her chin entirely - rubbing her neck against his hair to leave her scent.
“Be careful,” she told him, when she’d finally released Keith and allowed him to move away.
Keith’s throat was tight. “You too.”
He could feel his mother’s eyes fixed on him as he slipped out of her room.
~
Keith remembered the Castleship as a maze - a sprawling expanse of rooms and towers and pools that defied gravity and simple, straightforward logic. But the Castleship’s design had still felt purposeful, artistic even. At least, it wasn’t prone to changing shape on a whim. An elevator went up, and down. The most baffling thing about it was the Lions’ hangers being located at the end of a long and convoluted series of mechanisms that would have put Rube Goldberg to shame.
The Atlas was different, Keith realized, and he realized it quickly. The ship was vaguely sentient in a way that could only create problems when floor plans were subtly changing on a daily basis. He spent half an hour trying to make it back to the Paladins’ dorm rooms after a late-night training session only to find himself forcibly routed to the mess hall three separate times. It was only after he jammed open the door with a snarl and stormed across the hall to grab a protein bar did it allow him to make a reluctant path back to his dorm.
He had forgotten to eat dinner, admittedly. But that hardly gave the Atlas permission to meddle like an overbearing mother.
Sometimes, though, it truly felt like the Atlas was just determined to disorient him. It was on one of his late night meanders back after a training session that Keith found himself standing in front of a door that looked remarkably similar to the entrance to the Paladin’s dorms.
When it slid open in front of him however, he was not faced with the cozy interior of the common room, littered with Pidge’s gadgets and Allura’s houseplants. Instead, the room was small in diameter, closer to an alcove, and furnished only with a cushioned bench that curved the length of the outer wall. Where the chamber lacked in width however, it made up with the height of its ceiling, stretching so tall it disappeared into a darkness the small band of emergency lights on the floor couldn’t illuminate. There was a faint sheen on the outer wall, a glimmer that Keith took a moment to recognize as glass, or the proxy for it used on spaceship portholes. The little alcove was essentially that, the entire wall of darkness against the hull that would let in the stars.
It was peaceful, that space. But something about it also made Keith feel like he could disappear directly into the void above him, his edges fading the darkness that seemed to creep closer as the emergency lights dimmed. He left quickly, and two corner turns down the hall led him to the Paladins’ dorm.
It was weeks later when he stumbled across the room again, the day of the Atlas’s first launch. The launch was at 8 a.m., and Shiro had warned against any early morning training sessions beforehand.
Keith took the suggestion in stride, then promptly ignored it as he untangled his legs from his blankets before sunrise. The common rooms of the Paladins’ dorm was only faintly lit by a thin strip of lights lining the floor - unnecessary, for Keith at least. He knew his vision in the dark was nothing compared to his mother’s, but he could navigate much better than any of his human teammates in the blackness.
The trek up to the training decks was muscle memory at this point for Keith - he’d taken it so often he didn’t even have to count how many corners he’d round before he reached the elevator up to the deck.
Keith was stopped in his tracks then, to discover what he had thought with 100% confidence was the door to the changing rooms attached to the training center were in fact not that at all. Because the door opened to that same alcove, the one that should have only been a few corridors down from the Paladins’ dorms and not three decks above.
Maybe the ship has multiple alcoves, Keith reasoned with himself. Despite the complete lack of utility to them, the inherent empty space.
The windows were uncovered this time, and Keith could see the faint outlines of the Garrison headquarters across the launchpad, barely lit by the beginning of a sunrise.
If Keith could, he would have watched the launch alone - sequestered away in that alcove. Eyes fixed on a burning horizon, watching as the ground moved further away, how the curvature of the planet suddenly became visible. The desert landscape would disappear behind clouds, the spangle of stars would replace the magenta sunset. And he would finally be home.
But when the ship’s intercom chimed for muster for the launch, Keith was already back at the dorms with the other Paladins. Ready to obediently follow the group up to the bridge to buckle in alongside the rest of the mission crew for the launch.
The third time Keith stumbled across the alcove, it was barely a week into the mission’s time off-planet. And there was already someone sitting there.
Griffin had one arm resting casually against a propped knee, his posture so uncharacteristically relaxed Keith had to pause for a moment to revel in it. He let himself watch for one second, two seconds longer before he made a move to back out through the entryway.
Only the Atlas had a different idea, and decided to seal the entrance of the door with a whir of hydraulics while his heel was just breaching the opening. Keith yelped, making an unsteady move away from the door to stagger forward to where Griffin was no longer peacefully sitting.
Griffin had leapt to his feet at the sound, instantly stepping towards Keith as if to catch him. Keith immediately righted himself, the reflexes Lance liked to call “catlike” but were mostly just a symptom of being Galra catching him before he consciously made the decision to. Griffin was left standing frozen with his hands slightly outstretched. In an awkward readjusting of limbs, he moved backwards with his hands coming behind his back in what looked like an echo of parade rest.
Griffin’s face was neutral, only a slight flush across his cheekbones showing any sense of awkwardness from Keith’s entrance. But his posture was so rigid Keith found himself missing the loose tangle of long limbs that had been Griffin’s seated position before he stumbled in.
In the small, sealed space Keith senses were assaulted by Griffin’s heady alpha scent. He wasn’t sure if the other boy was consciously aware of it but there was this underlying agitation in his scent around Keith that made him simultaneously want to challenge Griffin to an impromptu sparring match and just throw himself down on the ground and let the other pilot do anything he wanted to him.
Which was nothing! Keith reminded himself, fervently. Absolutely nothing.
He wasn’t due for his heat soon, so it must be the vestigial memories of his last one spent in Griffin’s room making him this delusional.
“Nice cover,” Griffin said finally, once the beat of silence between them had stretched too long to be any semblance of comfortable.
“Thanks,” Keith said awkwardly. “It’s the tail. Helps me balance.”
Griffin’s eyes went wide, flickering back to Keith and away so fast they were only a glint of gray.
“Oh,” he said, sounding more uncertain than Keith had ever heard him. Keith felt a smile curling up unbidden in the edges of his mouth. “Sure, that makes sense I gu-”
“I don’t have a fucking tail,” Keith said, and then he was really laughing for real. It was the kind of wild laughter that only ever hit him right when he was at the edge of sleep-deprivation and delirium and he bent over, gripping his sides as he struggled to breathe. “Your face-!”
It was only Keith’s rapsing laughter that filled the small alcove as he tried to tamp down his amusement.
When Keith’s laughter had petered off he looked up, a grin still stretched across his face. Griffin was staring down at him in what looked like an impossible mixture of fascination and horror. His face was red as if he’d spent the last minute suffering from the same kind of body-shaking laughter as Keith.
“You’re impossible,” Griffin finally breathed, but it wasn’t exasperation in his voice. Incredulity, maybe.
“And you’re gullible,” Keith said, shrugging. “Stop believing every implausible thing someone tells you.”
“In my defense,” Griffin said, finally letting a small smile show on his face. He still looked a little shell-shocked, to Keith’s confusion. “You are not entirely human. So anything is on the table.”
“Sure, but I think you would have noticed a fucking tail after all this time. Especially if it’s sticking out of my ass.”
“That’s true.” The overhead exit sign made Griffin’s face glow even more red in the dim light. His eyes seemed pointedly fixed on Keith’s face. “I would have noticed.”
Keith wasn’t sure what the hell that was implying, so he looked away. “You’re gullible,” he repeated, just to say something. Any of his earlier humor had drained away, as quickly as it had come. The constant simmering mixture of doubt, and uncertainty, and rage lifted to fill its space. “You trust people too much.”
No, not too much. Too easily, that was the right word.
“I like to give people the benefit of the doubt,” Griffin said, nonchalant. Keith wanted to laugh at how absurd that sounded. How different his life would look if he subscribed to the same philosophy.
“Yeah, that’s why you’re the captain of the MFEs and I got recruited to an intergalactic civil war when I was 16. Fuck off.” Keith wasn't sure why he was suddenly so angry, so frustrated by the concept of this innate trust.
“It’s not naive Keith,” Griffin said softly. Something in Keith shuddered hearing his first name when it had only ever been Kogane, Kogane, Kogane with him.
Griffin seemed to have sensed the shift in Keith’s tone and the humor drained from his voice. His face was a sculpted mask.
“It’s not naive to wait for someone to live up to your expectations instead of shutting them out before you even give them a chance.”
So why won’t you ask me to give you a chance? The thought lurked, unbidden and unexplained at the base of Keith’s ribcage.
“You can’t honestly believe that,” Keith said instead.
“I guess I just think people are generally good,” Griffin answered with a shrug. “At our core, we are good.”
“And it's just the bad apples that make the mess?” Keith asked bitterly, letting a wry smile twist his mouth. “We can fix them? Even after all this? I just don’t believe it.”
“I’m not asking you to.” Griffin was still staring at him, gaze thoughtful now.
“I think people like to think they’re good,” Keith said finally. It was frustrating to argue with someone that wouldn’t argue back. “But your version of good and my version of good are not the same. Every single person is going to prioritize different things, love different people. You can’t just simplify that down to either good or bad.”
Griffin was quiet for a long moment. “No, I don’t think it’s that complicated. In the end, it’s there. Maybe it looks a little different on a fighter pilot than it does a nurse. But it’s there.”
“You say that, after what happened to Leifsdottir’s family?”
“Yes.”
When Griffin didn’t elaborate from there, Keith shook his head. “You're an idealist.”
Griffin looked at him thoughtfully, head tilted slightly. Keith shifted his gaze away to the window, unable to meet Griffin’s.
“You’re a good person Keith,” Griffin said finally. “It doesn’t matter if your idea of that is different from mine.”
The image of Nacxela flickered in his mind then, a Galra battlecruiser filling Keith’s vision as his fighter careened forward on its path of single-minded destruction. That hadn’t been heroics, not for Keith. It was an act of desperation, an acknowledgement that the only outcome he could live with when faced with the possibility of his friends’ deaths was that he couldn’t live with it all.
Keith hadn’t wanted to die then. But he hadn’t wanted to survive in a world where he didn’t make every attempt to save them either.
That didn’t make him good, it made him selfish - manifesting in a self-sacrificial way.
“Whatever.” He still refused to glance back at the other pilot. “Let’s just agree to disagree on this one. It’s too late to talk about this kind of metaphysical shit anyways.”
“It’s exactly how late it needs to be to talk about it,” Griffin said, a smile in his voice. “But I’ll take the hint. Why are you up so late anyways?”
“Training,” Keith said shortly. “Just some extra practice.”
“Every day?” The disbelief was obvious in Griffin’s tone.
Keith glanced at him suspiciously. “No,” he lied. “It was just for tonight.”
Griffin stared at him for a long moment, disappointment obvious in his gaze before shaking his head.
“I was talking to the night shift crew on the bridge. They say you’re usually up this late, wandering around.”
Keith hated that a ship this big now demanded a crew larger than the Lion ship. His nocturnal habits were never noticed by his teammates then.
“Well, I guess,” he said finally. It felt pointless to deny now. “Sometimes it takes some time to get back to the dorms after.”
“You don’t need extra training,” Griffin said simply. “And you don’t need it every day especially. You’re already the best fighter on this ship, so you're running yourself ragged for nothing.”
I’m fine, Keith wanted to say, but in this small of a space with Griffin he could smell the faint scent of concerned alpha - a steeliness that coated the back of his throat. He was overwhelmed with the sudden urge to comfort, to console. It’s fine, I’m fine, you don’t need to worry I’m-
“Are you having trouble sleeping?” Griffin took a step towards him as he asked it, interrupting Keith’s own spiraling thoughts. Keith resisted the urge to sway forward, closer to him. “You look tired, and you haven’t been out of the hospital that long.”
“No. It’s not like I’m an insomniac,” Keith said. “I just don’t need as much sleep as you at night. Biologically, you know.”
“I’m not sure I do.” There was genuine puzzlement in Griffin’s voice.
Keith glanced at him quickly, eyes flickering his direction and away just as fast. “Half Galra, remember? Got that weird alien biology going on.”
It was odd that anyone could forget, Keith felt so pointedly other as soon as he stepped into a room. The doubt in the humans’ gazes, the fear. The grudging acceptance from the Blades, the way Keith was convinced they were only ever comfortable around him with his face shield up - all human features covered behind a mask.
“How does that work then?” Griffin sounded so sincerely curious, Keith almost wanted to look back at him to see his expression. “You just don’t need as much sleep as a full human?”
“Kind of. Since the destruction of the Galra’s homeplanet Daibazaal, they’ve evolved with a more flexible polyphasic sleep schedule since they’re a nomadic race. My mom only sleeps four or so hours a night. When we were traveling through the quantum abyss she said I slept a lot, but not as much as my father. I guess I inherited some of that.”
“You said at night,” Griffin said pointedly. “What about during the day? Shouldn’t you be napping?”
“It’s fine,” Keith said, avoiding answering the question directly. The reality was there was nothing more he wanted to do at noon every day than curl up and sleep. But as that was not a socially acceptable means to catch up on much-needed sleep in the human world, it took all of his willpower to resist doing so.
Things had been easier when it was just him and Krolia, who understood the biological need to rest exactly when his body needed it and not with the rising and setting of the sun.
“Does Shirogane know?”
Keith shrugged. “He’s always known that I have a really crazy sleep schedule. We just never really knew why.”
“You should explain it. He can put you on a different training schedule so you can sleep during the day like you need.”
“It’s fine,” Keith repeated.
“Kogane.” There was enough exasperation in the word he almost wanted to smile. “If you don’t tell him, I will.”
That wiped any of the humor creeping onto his face off. Keith hated the idea of Shiro fussing, but fussing because Griffin overreacted to a non-issue was even worse.
“I’ll tell him! Don’t say anything,” Keith snapped.
“When?” Griffin asked, face unreadable.
“Soon.”
“Tomorrow,” Griffin said in response. “After the morning debriefing. Or I do.”
“Fine,” Keith muttered. Griffin would forget about it by tomorrow after he woke up anyways.
Griffin’s gaze finally softened, his scent shifting into something warm with satisfaction. Keith wanted to melt into it.
“Good. Now try and get some sleep. I’ll walk you back.”
“I don’t need you to walk me back,” Keith said peevishly.
Griffin smirked down at him, only one corner of his mouth tilting up in amusement. “You just admitted you have a track record of getting chronically lost onboard. While I have never lost my way once.”
“The Atlas must like you,” Keith mumbled, but he didn’t protest as Griffin laid a light hand against the small of his back and pushed him toward the door. It was so strange to feel his hand against the skin there without his armor on - only the thin fabric of his T-shirt a barrier between them.
Something inside Keith shivered when Griffin’s hand slid infinitesimally lower the moment before he let go. And then the steady weight of it was gone.
“Follow me,” Griffin said, and Keith absolutely hated the thing inside of him that jumped when the alpha commanded him, even over something so benign.
“I don’t need your help,” Keith repeated, even as he reluctantly followed Griffin forward down the hall, a half step behind.
There was a sudden, creaking groan of metal and the ship pitched right, throwing Keith against the wall. He caught himself just in time before Griffin came careening him, hands slamming against the wall on either side of him. He felt a knee slide between his open legs, pressing hard against his left thigh as Griffin swore above him.
“Jesus! What the hell was that?” the MFE pilot snarled.
The lights had flickered off in the turmoil but the hallway was immediately lit by the faintly ill color of the green emergency lights that kicked on instead.
Keith said nothing, could say nothing as he struggled to catch his breath. It took him a moment to realize it was not the adrenaline from the fall making him dizzy but the pressure of every one of Griffin’s joints against his own as the other boy pressed him harder into the wall, seemingly unconsciously. His hands were a cage around him, and Keith couldn’t remember the last time he had this much… body against him.
“Hey,” he heard from above him, and Keith forced himself to look up. “Are you okay?”
The words had a strange ringing to them, an unnatural cadence.
He wants you to… he’s asking you to… Keith thought vaguely, but he couldn’t quite figure out the end of that sentence. Instead, he shuddered, letting his head fall to the side, exposing his neck to the alpha above him.
He heard a sharp inhale above him, whatever words Griffin was attempting to say cut off abruptly.
“Sorry,” Keith muttered. He could not look at Griffin, would not look at Griffin. “It’s reflex.”
Around you, Keith wanted to add. He never wanted to bare his neck to Lance, when they were sparring. Or Shiro, when he was forcefully wrestled into a hug.
“You shouldn’t apologize,” Griffin murmured. He was staring down at Keith, except less at Keith and more at Keith’s neck. The omega shivered when he felt the gentle brush of fingertips against it, moving away the hair at the nape of his neck to fully expose the slope of skin.
Keith opened his mouth to say something, anything - an angry, defensive deluge of words on the tip of his tongue. But the only thing that came out was a long, loud whine.
He was so embarrassed, so painfully embarrassed but the instinctive sound only made him more panicked in response. The comforting weight of Griffin’s body pressing down over him was confusing the pleasure from his hindbrain with the alarm to this same response.
“Hey,” Griffin said. Keith could barely hear him from the way a faint echo rang in his ears, distorting the sound around him like he was underwater.
“Kogane. Hey, Kogane. Keith.”
He felt Griffin’s weight shift off of him, both a relief and a devastating loss, and then the alpha was crouching in front of him.
Keith’s vision was fuzzy enough that it took a moment for him to focus on the other pilot’s expression. His eyes were wide, gray irises lit green in the lighting of the hall and it gave his features an otherworldly vividness.
“Hey,” Griffin started, voice painfully soft. “I think you’re having a panic attack. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”
“I’m already okay,” Keith said immediately, unsure himself if he really meant it.
“Okay,” Griffin agreed, and Keith hated him for it. “Is it the dark? I think the lights will come back on soon. We can head up to the bridge and see what’s going on.”
Keith wanted to laugh, but he thought he would have choked on it if he tried.
“It’s not the dark,” Keith said, but it was more of a sigh than a sentence. He didn’t want Griffin to press, to prod, to probe further with his questions. Trying to divert any more questions, he craned his neck to look around Griffin’s shoulder.
“What the hell was that? Did we hit something?” Keith asked.
Griffin stared at him a long moment, as if mentally shifting gears, before slowly pushing off the wall - relieving Keith of his weight and his warmth. The alpha stepped back, leaving a distance between them meant for acquaintances as Keith shakily stood upright as well. He kept one hand braced against the wall, halfway expecting another lurching maneuver sending him sideways.
In an instant, the emergency lights flicked back to their usual ambient white glow. It was strangely quiet, none of the blaring alarms and thudding footsteps Keith was used to in an ambush aboard the Castleship.
It didn’t feel like an ambush, that was the strange thing.
Griffin cleared his throat. “Whatever it was, it definitely woke up the rest of the ship.” His voice still sounded a little strange, just slightly off his normal steady cadence.
“I’m going to head up to the bridge,” Keith announced.
“Hold up,” Griffin said, grabbing his elbow before Keith could stride to the lift. “I’ll come with, just let me send a message to Nadia.”
Keith shifted uncomfortably as Griffin typed a quick message on his comms, the device strapped to his wrist. Keith hated wearing his, his own wrist incriminating in its bareness.
The walk up to the bridge was silent. Keith’s mind was churning, not sure whether to fixate on the potential of an ongoing attack or the frustrating way his body had just responded to Griffin. He could feel exhaustion setting in and it was making him weak, physically tired and unable to maintain the emotional distance he needed for mental clarity.
When the lift doors opened it was clear most of the crew had a similar idea to head upwards for answers. In the second it took for him to recognize the other Paladins - half in uniforms and half in sleepwear, clearly having given up even trying to get ready - Shiro was striding up to him.
“Where the hell were you?” Shiro shouted, not even waiting until the doors slid shut behind Keith before grabbing his arm.
The loudness of Shiro’s voice, the unfamiliar anger, made Keith freeze - unable to step forward. He’d seen Shiro furious before, but it still hit him every time with a sinking feeling in his stomach. He never cared when teachers would yell at him, when the Garrison higher-ups would berate him. But Shiro’s anger was different because Shiro was different, because Shiro mattered. And it made Keith want to retreat into himself in shame.
He resisted the urge like he did whenever the need hit him, by pushing outwards - letting his own frustration fight for precedence in the struggle of wills.
“Why does it matter?” Keith interrupted. “I’m here now. What’s going on?”
The other Paladins were silent, watching the interaction with wide eyes.
Shiro shook his head, a firm rejection of Keith’s nonchalance.
“No, Keith - we’re not going to just blow right over this. You weren’t there at the muster, and nobody could reach you on your comms, and now you’re just going to waltz in and pretend like you weren’t completely off-grid in the middle of an emergency.
He’s only angry because he cares, Keith told himself, but the words didn’t do anything to console him, to fix his tilting world. He felt the humiliation of the other Paladins’ eyes on him, wordlessly watching the exchange, the echo of voices further down the bridge from Garrison staff that were likely listening in as well.
That constant, simmering rage in him rose up as a barrier - a comforting fire to burn out the guilt and embarrassment.
“Christ, not even Krolia gets on my ass like you do Shiro,” Keith snapped. “I was coming back from the training center. I forgot my comms. Is this really the time for a lecture right now?”
“I’m not your parent Keith,” Shiro said, and he suddenly looked tired - tired in a way Keith barely remembered ever seeing on his face. “I’m your commanding officer.”
I thought you were my brother.
Keith hoped Shiro heard his unspoken words in the silence that fell between them.
“Enough.” It was Shiro who finally caved, turning from Keith as he did so. “We’ll talk about this later. Just stay on your comms from now on.”
“Kogane-” Griffin tried to say something next to him, but Keith brushed him off - striding towards the group of Paladins as they made their way down the bridge after Shiro.
It was Hunk that fell into step next to him, bumping shoulders in a companionable way.
“Don’t let that,” Hunk waved one enormous hand in the air vaguely, “Get to you. Shiro’s just worried. Nobody knows what’s going on. We woke up and couldn’t find you and I think he panicked a little.”
“I know, Hunk,” Keith said, resigned. “But he didn’t need to do that.”
“Maybe not.” Hunk shrugged. There was a comfortable silence between them for a few moments before the Yellow Paladin spoke again. “Anyways, what do you think hit us?”
Keith could always count on Hunk for tactfully reading the room, navigating away from a conversation he was unwilling to have.
“I don’t think we were hit actually,” Keith said after a moment, considering. He remembered the way the ship had been rocked. It was as if he and everything onboard had been pulled one direction before being violently forced upright. The Atlas was stable now, floor level and silently gliding on towards their destination through the void of deep space.
They stopped once they’d reached the front of the bridge. The other Paladins had clustered around where the night shift crew was seated, on duty for navigation.
None of the crew looked particularly alarmed, which Keith took as a good sign. Matt Holt, on schedule as the lead science officer - even waved furiously at Keith from his position at the center of the group. He certainly didn’t have the appearance of someone about to announce the Atlas was under attack, at least.
“What happened?” Shiro asked, his voice a few degrees less intense than it had been when Keith first arrived. He’d clearly also recognized the lack of urgency on the bridge from the crew. “Were we hit?”
“Not exactly,” Matt replied. “Though I guess you could say we got… tugged? Pulled, really. But not by another ship.”
That was exactly it, Keith thought, feeling slightly vindicated. Tugged was the perfect word for it, that strange kind of artificial gravity.
“I’m going to need a little more context there,” Nadia said. She’d taken up a position next to Griffin, looking half awake in a pair of Garrison issue sweats.
“And no big fancy words, Holt,” Lance warned. “It’s ungodly o’clock right now.”
“Well, with our current trajectory - we were planning for this. It just hit us a little earlier than we expected. We had to reset our systems and correct for the interference,” Matt said, tapping against the screen in front of him to pull up a visual of the Atlas’ current path towards the first planet that was a planned stop for their mission.
“There’s a feature nearby,” the woman next to Matt explained. She looked vaguely familiar, in a way that Keith thought he might have known her name at one point but it had easily slipped from his mind. “A large one that is disruptive to ships. We had to adjust our polarity slightly to avoid any additional interference.”
“Should be smooth sailing from here,” Matt said with a shrug. “Sorry for the fire drill.”
“So, just to be totally clear - we’re not under attack?” Nadia asked through a yawn. She didn’t seem particularly concerned either way.
“Nope,” Matt said, popping the “p” at the end. “Not a Galra in sight.” He glanced at Keith. “Well, except the ones we like.”
Keith couldn't stop his hands from curling into fists at his side, refusing to look away from the screen in front of the group to avoid meeting anyone’s gaze.
“Send an announcement out to the rest of the ship,” Shiro said tiredly. Relief softened his shoulders but Keith could still hear the tension in his voice, sensing the way the other man was still mentally preparing for a fight. “Let everyone know we’ll maintain operations as usual.”
“Current operations demand I go back to bed,” Lance said under his breath, and Hunk nudged him.
Shiro glanced at the new Red Paladin. “You’re also cleared to do that. Everyone’s free to make their way back to the dorms. We’ll have our usual debrief in the morning.”
“It is the morning,” Pidge said, rubbing her eyes. But the group was already dispersing, the relief blanketing the group palpable in the way the scents around Keith had softened. He turned to follow them out before a firm voice stopped him.
“Keith, wait up.”
Shiro. Incidentally, one of the last people Keith wanted to talk to right now.
He turned slowly, resisting the urge to cross his arms in a defensive posture.
Shiro stood in front of him, hands loose at his side. His face was serious but open, a more palatable version of the hard-edged captain image he’d been presenting to the group just moments before.
“Back for another round of lecturing me?” Keith said, maybe more snidely than Shiro’s inoffensive approach deserved.
He didn’t even feel angry at this point. The only thing ringing in his head was the echo of “I’m you’re commanding officer.”
“I’m not going to apologize for worrying about you,” Shiro started. “But I am sorry for how I approached you about this. I just need you to be more responsible when things like this happen.”
Keith stared at him. “You humiliated me. In front of everyone. I looked like a misbehaving kit.”
Shiro frowned, as if the word choice was just slightly strange to him and Keith realized he’d been using a term that the Galra used, not humans.
“I know.” The lines around Shiro’s mouth were emphasized under the harsh lighting of the bridge. “And I know telling you that I did it because I panicked is not an excuse.”
“Is your rut coming up or something?” Keith scuffed the floor with one foot, belligerent. “You’re crazy for pulling rank like that on me. It’s me, Shiro.”
Shiro pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezed shut. “Let’s not go there, okay? We’re all on edge right now.”
Keith resented the use of “we” there, a bit. After all, he hadn’t started the fight here. For once.
“I get that you were worried,” Keith said instead. “And I should probably carry my comms with me more. But you have to loosen the leash a bit, Shiro. I’m not a kid anymore.”
“You know that’s not how I want to treat you,” Shiro replied, finally opening his eyes. “But you're not understanding the issue here, Keith. When we can’t find you… you could be anywhere. Anything could have happened to you. And you tend to not ask for help when something is wrong.”
Something is always wrong, Keith wanted to say. Not because it was true, but because it usually felt true.
“Is this an apology or not?” Keith asked, but he forced a small smile to curl in the edges of his mouth. He was too tired to fight Shiro any more on this, too ready to curl back up in the nest of blankets back in his room.
Shiro’s fists at his side loosened at the sight of Keith’s smile, a white flag offered in reconciliation.
“I am sorry,” Shiro admitted. Then, immediately: “Will you wear your comms from now on?”
Keith rolled his eyes.
“I will wear them more often, yes. Sir, yes sir.”
Shiro sighed. “You know I never like pulling rank like that. I really am doing it with your safety in mind.”
The problem was, Keith really thought Shiro believed that.
“We’re good, aren’t we?” Shiro asked, but he didn’t wait for Keith’s response before he reached out and gently rubbed the scent gland on his wrist onto Keith’s neck.
Keith wrinkled his nose, not because Shiro’s scent was offensive but the act made him feel like he was being mothered somehow.
“We’re always good,” he said, trying to duck out of Shiro’s grasp and the alpha laughed - wrangling Keith closer to their necks bumped together instead. Keith sulkily allowed it, in part because Shiro’s scent on him was imprinted in his hindbrain as a marker of safety and there was something comforting about knowing it would be on his skin for the rest of the day.
“Go back to the dorms and get a few more hours of sleep,” Shiro told him, once he’d finally let go. “I need to catch up with Matt on the system reset.”
Keith was nearly certain that could have waited until handover with the night crew in the morning but shrugged, waving a goodbye as he exited the bridge.
He stepped into the first open elevator behind Nadia, nodding a silent greeting at her as he did so.
Nadia stepped back from him in exaggerated surprise. “You reek of Shirogane. I take it you guys made up?”
Keith yawned, the last few hours starting to catch up on his sleep-deprived brain. The mixing of Shiro’s scent with his own wasn’t helping. It made him comfortable and sluggish, dulling the lingering frustration from their conversation.
“We weren’t really fighting,” he muttered. As the lift doors began to slide shut he watched a hand shoot between the gap, forcing them open again.
“Got it!” Lance crowed, sliding in wearing his definitely not Garrison-issued fluffy robe. Keith watched as Griffin wordlessly filed in behind him and stood next to Nadia.
Which was also, coincidently, next to Keith.
As the doors slid shut, Keith felt the weight of the alpha’s gaze on him. Letting Nadia and Lance’s chatter fill the elevator, he slid a glance upwards to confirm it.
Griffin had an odd expression on his face, halfway between surprised and affronted.
“What?” Keith asked, narrowing his eyes. “You look like you’re about to sneeze.”
“Nothing.” Griffin scowled, shifting his weight slightly. “You smell like-”
He stopped abruptly, glanced away quickly as the lift doors opened. “It’s your floor,” the alpha finished instead.
“Yeah.” Keith turned to follow Lance out. “G’night.”
Griffin was still frowning as the doors shut behind him.
~
There was a palpable energy on the bridge that morning when the group had finally gathered again at the usual 6 a.m. handover meeting. Shiro was sitting next to Matt when he walked in with the other Paladins, his knee pressing into the science officer’s in a way that was barely noticeable. Keith hadn’t heard Shiro return to the dorms earlier that morning, and the dark shadows below his eyes were evidence he’d likely spent the rest of the night on the bridge.
Despite that, Shiro seemed to be in surprisingly good spirits.
When the sleepy chatter had finally died down as people found various spots around the bridge to settle in for the morning debrief, Shiro stood up.
If Keith was given a choice, he would gravitate towards the back wall - trying to disappear into the shadows of the bridge like he did in the boardrooms back on Earth. Unfortunately, he had a designated seat on the bridge, chair stationed in a neat line next to the rest of the Paladins. The seat also, unfortunately, mirrored the MFEs in that Keith was directly facing his equivalent rank of the group. Which meant he was forced to avoid eye contact with Griffin for the entirety of every half-hour debrief.
Keith fixed his gaze on Shiro with laser precision, ignoring the flicker of gray eyes he could feel glide along his profile.
“As all of you are aware,” Shiro began, “We experienced a slight deviation from our planned trajectory early this morning. Our crew has corrected for this anomaly and we are back on trajectory with no anticipated delays to arrival. A big thanks to Matt and his team.”
Keith didn’t miss the warmth in Shiro’s gaze as glanced toward Matt, though he thought Matt might miss it. Pidge’s brother had the wide-eyed, slightly deranged eyes of someone two coffees too deep and a few hours of sleep too short of completely sane.
“We had a slight interruption,” Matt broke in eagerly. “But not an unexpected one. When we mapped this route we specifically tried to skirt this feature to stay out of its gravitational radius. Looks like we underestimated the forces here slightly, but it’s nothing we couldn’t quickly correct in our flight path.
“What kind of feature?” Allura asked. She didn’t at all look like someone whose sleep had been interrupted at ungodly hours of the morning, hair falling in a soft white cloud around her face.
“It’s an asteroid belt,” Matt announced, almost gleefully. “Known as Nona’s Lullaby.”
“Lullaby?” Lance asked. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”
“Yeah,” he scoffed, “It’ll put you straight to sleep. That thing is a debris field for lost ships. ”
Keith leaned forward towards the screen, the still image a band of rocky shapes. It looked tight, in all fairness. But he doubted he’d have any issues with it.
“It’s tricky to navigate through, sure,” the geoscientist continued. “Plenty of ships have smashed into those rocks and never came out. But the bigger issue is the material of the asteroids themselves.”
Keith caught a glint of Pidge’s glasses as she edged forward, obviously eager.
“The material?” she asked, already pulling up her datapad for the inevitable researching hole she was about to disappear into.
“The belt is littered with fragments of the ancient moon Larunda. Nasty stuff, that rock. Does crazy things to ship systems if you steer too close to it - comms are usually the first thing to go. Forget trying to actually fly through it. You stay in there too long, you’re dead in the water.”
“And then, just dead,” Lance said, shuddering.
“Sounds useful,” Keith said, ignoring all the heads pivoting towards him as he broke his silence. “Having access to that kind of material.”
“Sure would be, if we could ever get close enough to retrieve it. Nobody’s been stupid enough to try it.”
“I could,” Keith announced. He fixed his gaze on Shiro, knowing there was really only one person he needed to convince on the bridge. “Retrieve it, I mean.”
From somewhere across from him, he heard Griffin make a guttural sound - low in his throat. Keith refused to turn around, crossing his arms instead to protect against the expressions ranging from mocking disbelief to blatant suspicion.
“Keith…” Not even the melodic lilt of Allura’s voice could hide the tiredness in it. She rubbed a hand down her face, the faintly glowing markings disappearing for an instant. “You’re not going to fly into the most dangerous asteroid belt in the quadrant. Absolutely not.”
“I’m not going to fly into it,” Keith argued. “Just next to it. If I can keep my systems stable enough to tether and go topside for a bit, I’ll grab a piece and bring it back.”
He was met with wide-eyed gazes across the bridge, as if the outrageousness of his suggestion had struck the entirety of the room into total silence.
“This is a research mission,” Keith drawled. The friction in the room felt good, like everyone finally had a good reason to pick at him and he was able to snap back. “With our current pace, I can meet you guys on the other side by skirting the outer edge in a few days. You won’t even notice I’m gone.”
“Emphasis on ‘stupid enough to try it,’” Lance said under his breath. Pidge elbowed him, a defense of Keith he was sure was purely driven by her ferocious need to run tests on the rock and not any respect for Keith’s actual intellect.
“I don’t generally like to send pilots off on suicide missions for the name of science,” their geologist said, that vaguely familiar woman Keith faintly recognized. “As much as I want to get my hands on this damn rock.”
Keith couldn’t help the slight flinch at “suicide mission.”
“So send another pilot to tail me, at a wider radius from the belt. If I lose comms or go dead, they can keep visual and report it back out of range.” His tone was sharp, sharper than he’d meant it.
“I’ll go with him.”
The words were offered casually, confidently. Keith watched, alarmed, as Griffin raised a hand. He wasn’t looking at Keith, only Shiro, and that somehow grated on his nerves.
“I can take one of the smaller cruisers, follow at a wider range. At the pace the Atlas is moving, we should be able to meet up on the other side at the rendezvous point in less than a week.”
Keith wanted to argue that he didn’t need a babysitter, but realized denying Griffin’s offer was probably not in his best interest in getting this mission approved.
“You won’t even realize we’ll be gone,” Keith confirmed. “In fact, we’ll probably beat you to the rendezvous point anyways.”
“Keith…” Shiro stared at him. “Do you really want to do this?”
“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t,” Keith said, imploring Shiro with his eyes to say yes. Maybe if he could convey the frantic, itching need to fly, to get off this ship into open space he’d understand.
Shiro frowned, but Keith could tell by the set of his jaw he’d already caved.
“I’ll ask the Garrison leadership for approval then. If it’s a no from then, it’s a no - and you won’t ask again.”
That was good, Keith thought, because he didn’t think the Garrison brass would care much either way if he survived a spontaneous science mission. If it was any of the other Paladins, yes. But not the half-Galra mutt, the one Paladin they were itching to replace in the Black Lion with its original Paladin.
“Yes, sir,” Keith said, tone carefully neutral.
His gaze slid back to Griffin, only to be startled by the slight smile curling in the edges of the other pilot’s lips. Keith couldn’t tell if it was a derogatory kind of amusement or genuine happiness - though he couldn’t understand what Griffin had to be pleased about.
It doesn’t matter, Keith told himself. Either way, he was getting his freedom.
The meeting continued with only a few wary glances tossed in Keith’s direction. But there were enough more important topics that Keith was able to avoid scrutiny simply by sitting back in his chair. He didn’t particularly care about any of the stops they were making at various formerly Galra occupied planets to form alliances. In fact, it probably would have been better for the Garrison to make these alliances without an actual Galra onboard. He was doing them a favor, in a way.
When the meeting broke, Allura caught Keith as he tried to slip away with the masses dispersing on the bridge.
“That was reckless,” she said without preamble. She was frowning, but not even her disappointment could make her any less beautiful. Keith even understood, a little, why Lance was so obsessed with her - in the way he could appreciate an expertly painted portrait hung on an art gallery wall.
“I’m reckless,” he told her flatly, tugging away from the hand she’d lightly placed on his shoulder. His relationship with Allura had never been easy, and her pivot from malicious to maternal worked even less now that he had an actual mother to fill that role.
She was, Keith had realized, unfailingly good. The type of person that could only seem to become a better one, and that left him feeling particularly inadequate in her presence.
“We need you here, with the other Paladins,” Allura told him. “Not out risking your life for a science mission.”
“It’s for a larger purpose,” Keith said. “You think I haven’t done worse with the Blades?”
“You’re not with the Blades right now,” Allura said sharply. “You’re a Paladin-”
“I’m both,” Keith interrupted, a hard edge to his voice. “And this is a Garrison mission. If the Garrison lets me go, I’m going.”
“Are you so determined to avoid a few diplomatic stops?” Allura asked, exasperated.
“It’s not about that,” Keith said, even if he hadn’t quite convinced himself that was true. “I just need to get out and stretch my wings. I haven’t flown for a while.”
“I’m sure Black would-”
“Sorry, Allura,” Keith said, noticing Griffin waiting by the elevator like a lifeline - an easy escape. “I need to talk to Griffin for a minute.”
He tossed a wave behind him as he jogged away, somehow able to feel Allura’s disappointed gaze on his back all the way across the room.
“Hey,” Keith said, watching in amusement as Griffin spun around to face him.
The alpha looked like he was pretending not to be startled, which made Keith smile as he pulled up short in front of him.
“You didn’t need to volunteer,” Keith told him.
Griffin was staring at Keith, a strange expression on his face like he’d been about to smile but changed his mind. Instead, his mouth pressed into a hard line.
“Someone had to,” Griffin said. “Thanks for the concern though.”
“No, you don’t get it. I’m not saying it to be nice,” Keith said, shaking his head. “I’d rather go alone. Tell Shiro you changed your mind and want to stay back.”
Griffin narrowed his eyes, shifting his stance so he now stood another inch taller than Keith. It was a weak intimidation tactic, Keith thought.
“I’m going,” Griffin told him, turning back to the elevator like their conversation had come to an end.
Keith tugged on his uniform, forcing the alpha to turn back and face him. Instead, Griffin’s eyes locked on where Keith’s hand gripped the fabric of his sleeve.
“There’s no reason for you to come with me. I’ll be fine,” Keith said. “It’s not like you’ll get any brownie points with Shiro, either. He thinks we’re both stupid for pulling a stunt like this.”
“I’m not doing this to get favor with the Captain,” Griffin said stiffly.
“Oh yeah?” Keith scoffed. “And what other reason would you want to come with me on a mission?”
Griffin grabbed his hand from where it still rested on his uniform, pulling it from his arm but refusing to let go. His skin was warm, nearly burning, where he held Keith’s fingers.
“I don’t know, Keith. What other motivation could I possibly have for coming with you on a solo mission?”
Keith stared at him, confused. “I’m asking you that.”
Griffin finally released his hand.
“It doesn’t matter,” the other pilot told him, not meeting his gaze. “I’m going with you.”
Keith watched the elevator doors close behind, the warmth of his hand climbing up his arm like it had somehow made a path directly into his veins.
~
The Garrison brass said yes, of course.
Shiro let both Keith and Griffin sit in on his daily call with the Garrison higher-ups. Keith watched silently as Shiro talked through the events of last night once again, trying to ignore the warmth of Griffin’s body heat in the seat next to him.
Did the alpha have to sit so close? Keith didn’t think so, but then, he also had strict boundaries on personal space around people that others didn’t seem to recognize as significant.
“Captain, if it was under anyone else’s command I would have said no,” the colonel said. Keith couldn’t remember which one he was - they all seemed to have the same rough jawline and protruding nose that made them indistinguishable. Except Iverson, but that was only because he’d been an exceptional pain in Keith’s ass.
“You’re either very fucking dumb for sending your two best pilots off on this or absurdly confident,” the man concluded with a laugh. He had the kind of face Keith would have liked to punch through the screen. “But I’ll give the affirmative.”
“Thank you, sir,” Shiro said. He did well to hide the flinch at the other officer’s words but Keith saw his hands clench into fists at his side. “I’m confident the two will be exceptionally careful and abort the mission if any elevated risk is recognized.”
As soon as the call disconnected, Shiro turned to the two pilots.
“Don’t make me regret this,” the alpha commanded, and Keith got a sense that this was Shiro’s real apology - the loosening of the metaphorical leash. “Either of you.”
Keith’s fingers flexed his side, feeling the buzzing of adrenaline.
He’d argued his way successfully, Shiro was finally learning to trust him again, and most importantly - he was getting off of this damn ship.
The only problem now was Griffin.