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“All right, old timer,” Keith says, turning to Shiro as the last of his team disappears up the boarding ramp and onto their ship. “You gonna take care of yourself while I’m gone?”
Shiro snorts at the old nickname.
“Oh, we bringing that back now?” Shiro asks, laughing. “Just because of the gray hair? That’s a low blow, Keith.” He shakes his head slowly, like he’s disappointed.
Keith knocks their shoulders together.
“I’ll drop it,” he says, his lips ticking up in a lopsided smile, “if you promise me you’re gonna take breaks and eat meals and all that shit even when I’m not around to pester you.”
He’s giving Shiro a hard time, Shiro knows, but it’s hard not to quail under the deeply earnest look in Keith’s eyes all the same. Shiro’s not the worst at adulting, he’s got subordinates who bring him meals if he’s still in his office, he works out every day, makes sure to stretch and move around a bit if he’s in meetings too long. He is terrible at taking enough breaks, especially when the rest of Voltron is scattered around the known universe on peace missions after the war. It’s kind of lonely, trying to kick back and relax when it’s just Shiro.
Still, for Keith, Shiro says,”Yes, all right, I promise to adult properly while you’re gone.”
“Attaboy,” Keith says. Shiro ignores the flush of warmth he gets at the praise.
“Just -- you know. Same to you. Be safe. Come back soon?”
“Yeah, Shiro,” Keith says, his voice going soft. He steps into Shiro’s space and hugs him tightly.
And this is where, later, when Shiro plays the memory of this moment over again, he always gets stuck. Because when Keith tugs him close for that hug, he presses their foreheads together, and Shiro is sure, absolutely sure, that Keith has to lean down a little to do it.
--
Maybe, Shiro thinks, he's imagining things.
Sometimes he goes weeks, months even, between the times he sees Keith in person. Their responsibilities in peace time take them to different ends of the universe, Keith working to restore the Blades and transition them from spies and rebels to humanitarians and diplomatic aides, Shiro doing a lot of the heavy lifting of the university’s rebuilding with Atlas's vast resources.
But he swears Keith was like, two inches shorter the last time he saw him.
And, sure, Keith’s height has been a variable thing over the course of their long friendship. He was pretty short for most of his early teens, this punk little teenager that Shiro had dragged under his wing. He was, what, chest-height back then? But after Kerberos, it seemed like Keith had settled into his full height, because when Shiro came back, Keith’s forehead came up to about Shiro’s nose.
Shiro was deeply aware of Keith’s height then. Keith had this habit of tucking his nose right into Shiro’s shoulder, or sometimes his neck, when they hugged, and the height he was at the beginning of the war was exactly perfect for that. They’d hugged before Kerberos, of course they had, but there was a world of difference between the earliest friendship days of Keith is just the right height to noogie when I’ve finished hugging him and the days immediately after Shiro's return to Earth, when Shiro was touch-starved and jumpy with PTSD and Keith was just the right height to nestle fully into Shiro’s arms.
Okay, so he’s thought a lot about this over time, so sue him. The point is, after the cosmic whale, Keith had come back a little taller again, certainly broader around the shoulders, but at that point Shiro was very sure Keith was going to stop having growth spurts. He was about 21 by then, and that seemed like the high end for growth spurts for humans.
But Keith is only half-human, and Shiro is almost positive Keith has never been tall enough to have to lean down to do that forehead-touching, too-intimate-for-bros-but-still-friendly-enough, thing that they do. Is Keith taller again? Is he...actually taller than Shiro now?
No, that can’t be right. Shiro has to be misremembering.
--
Six weeks later, when Keith and his Blades return to Earth, Shiro is right there to greet him when he disembarks.
He was not misremembering.
“Shiro!” Keith calls, his whole face lighting up as he comes out of the ship. He crosses the several yards between the ramp and where Shiro stands on the dock in a few lanky strides, and pulls Shiro right into his arms, and Shiro…
Shiro’s forehead thwacks right into Keith’s cheekbone.
“Ouch,” Shiro says reflexively, although that had to actually hurt Keith more.
“Oh, God, Shiro, I’m sorry,” Keith says, laughing, his hands coming up to cradle Shiro’s face. He pulls back enough to look Shiro over. “You okay?”
“Yep, I’m fine. We’re uh, all fine here,” Shiro says, a little dazed.
“Good,” Keith breathes, and he goes back to hugging Shiro again. This time he buries his face in Shiro’s shoulder and squeezes his arms tight around Shiro’s lower back, and he, very, very, very noticeably, has to bend down to do any of that.
Shiro is not fine. He is the opposite of fine. He is, he thinks faintly, actually being lifted a little off his feet as Keith straightens up.
Sweet merciful baby Jesus, he is the short friend now.
--
Pidge and the rest of the Holts show up a few days later, and Shiro desperately needs to talk to someone about this revelation. He goes and hunts her down in her family lab.
"Hey, Pidge," Shiro says, perching lightly on the edge of her worktable.
"Hey Shiro," she greets him, a little muffled around the screw sticking out of her mouth. She’s half-sitting, half-squatting on a stool before the table, brow furrowed in concentration. She looks up from the gadget in her hands, flashes him a grin around the screw, and then goes immediately back to what she was working on.
"Sooo," Shiro says, watching her hands tinker. He gives a short laugh, aiming for laissez faire and ending up somewhere closer to extremely awkward; trying too hard. "When did Keith get so tall, huh?"
Pidge plucks the screw out her mouth and sticks it in the side of the vaguely cylindrical metal thing in her hands. She grabs the screwdriver from behind her ear and starts to screw it in.
“Oh, yeah,” she says, like this is old news. “We've been talking about our respective growth spurts.” She taps the handle of the screwdriver against her left shin. “My shins have hurt like fuck at night, you don’t even know.”
Shiro stares at her for a long moment.
“Both of you have been having growth spurts?” he sputters.
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, Pidge is so short we can’t tell when she’s suddenly taller, haha, whatever,” Pidge grumps. She points the screwdriver at Shiro. “I have gained a full two and a half inches since the end of the war, don't at me, Shirogane.”
Shiro raises both hands
“I believe you,” he says, sincerely. “I’m...sorry I didn’t notice?”
“Nah, it’s okay,” Pidge says, relenting. “We’ve all been super busy lately.” She goes back to her gadget. “But. Yepp,” she pops the p on the end of the word. “Me and Keith. I dunno how tall he is now -- we were talking about it a while ago. His mom says it’s pretty common for Galra to get a secondary growth spurt, so they get one between approximately 10 and 16 like humans, and another between 18 and 24ish. I guess that makes sense. We have met some super tall Galra. Can you imagine if they grew like two or three feet in their early teens? That would suck.”
“Huh. So Keith might like...keep growing? For a while?” Shiro asks.
“Oh for sure,” Pidge says. “But, you know, puberty. Kind of an asshole. Hard to predict.”
“Yeah...”
Pidge’s hands stop moving and she looks up and pins Shiro in place with her gaze.
“Are you freaking out about this?” she asks. “It seems like maybe you’re freaking out about this.”
“What? Haha. Noo,” Shiro says, weakly.
Pidge narrows her eyes at him.
Shiro swallows self-consciously.
“It’s just -- he’s just -- ehm,” Shiro gestures with both hands, expansive and meaningless. “...big?”
Pidge squints so hard that her left eye actually closes.
“I had a dream the other night, about the day he killed Sendak,” Shiro says softly, looking down at his lap. “The way he dove out of Black like some avenging angel. Only in the dream, when he landed on his feet he was leaning over me, and the sun was behind him, and he was -- he was so tall, Pidge, I just…” Shiro presses his palms to his temples and blows out a sound through closed lips before he can say anything else.
“Oh. Ohhh,” Pidge says, knowingly. “Yeah, man, I’m happy for you, that you’re having what look like positive feelings about this, but listen, please do not talk to me about the sexual tension between you two ramping up now that Keith is bigger than you. That is not my area of expertise.”
“Sorry,” Shiro says to the floor, rather than look her in the face possibly ever again.
She pats him gently on the shoulder.
“It’s all good. And hey, you were right! Keith really is taller than you now. Galra second puberty is a thing! The more you know.”
“...Thanks, Pidge.”
--
Keith goes away again, this time to bring aid to the Yovis system, while Shiro leaves Earth for Seboth, a Coalition planet which has requested the Atlas’s help in rebuilding some of the space stations they use to grow their food supplies. They’re in more or less the opposite directions.
And so it goes. Shiro and Keith message each other every day, videochat when they can, but they each have their part to play in the rebuilding. They’re supposed to meet up after about three months on a planet called Nelea, there at the same time for a wider meeting of Coalition allies, but then Keith gets called away last minute. There’s a planet with limited communication systems that the Coalition has just learned is suffering a famine, after their fields were destroyed by wreckage from a battle between two opposing Galra generals, and their need for relief can’t wait.
Shiro diligently tries to keep his evenings free, to take time to recharge like he promised.
“See?” he says, turning the camera so Keith can see that he’s out of uniform, in sweats, and sprawled across the couch in his quarters. “I’m taking breaks.”
“Shiro,” Keith says, mock-seriously, putting a hand up to touch the screen. It looks like he’s reaching out to Shiro. “I’m really proud of you.”
Shiro turns the camera around so he can stick out his tongue.
“I’m serious!” Keith says, laughing. He pushes some hair out of his eyes. It’s getting long enough now that he’s started pulling it back into a ponytail. Shiro thinks it’s cute. “I am both proud of you and glad that my hassling seems to work from several galaxies away.”
“It does work,” Shiro tells him. “You read the briefings -- the Neleans find it extremely impolite to state grievances or ask for resources or really say anything outright, and when they’re the ones facilitating the meetings, let me tell you, it makes everything ten times longer than it has to be. Sometimes I just want to get back to my quarters on the Atlas and go right to bed, but then I think Keith would be disappointed in me, and I at least eat a protein bar or something and take off my uniform first.”
“That’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me,” Keith says, smiling into the camera, his voice soft. The sun where he is just rose a couple of hours ago, and Keith is sitting on a crate of supplies by his ship, long hair waving in the day’s light breeze, his face limned in soft gold from the early morning sunlight.
Shiro’s heart flutters.
“Shut it,” he says, equally soft, because it’s easier to pretend that Keith is being sarcastic than to accept this as the weird, mutually dependent flirting Pidge, and pretty much all the rest of their friends, have strongly implied they do.
A blue hand appears from out of frame and rests on Keith’s shoulder.
“Ready to get going?” Acxa’s voice asks.
Keith looks over his shoulder and nods. He gets up, the camera following his face, and then Shiro can see both of them.
“Hey, Acxa,” he says.
“Good morning, Shiro.” She waves.
Keith asks her something about their plans for the day, but Shiro doesn’t quite hear what the question. He’s too busy staring at how much shorter Acxa is than Keith now. It’s not a great angle, but Shiro thinks she’s a little under half a head shorter than Keith now, instead of the several inches taller Shiro is sure she used to be.
Just how tall is Keith now, anyways?
Acxa steps out of frame, and Keith focuses back on the camera.
“Guess I should let you go,” Keith says, reluctant.
“I should probably get to bed soon, anyways,” Shiro agrees.
Keith sighs. Neither of them move to disconnect the call.
“Hey,” Shiro says. “I miss you.”
“Miss you too, Shiro,” Keith whispers, touching the screen again. “Talk soon, yeah?”
“Yeah, Keith.”
That night, he dreams about the first time he woke up in this new body, weak from Allura’s transfer. He dreams about sagging into Keith’s arms, Keith’s hold the first touch he’s known after all those months spent incorporeal. The chest underneath his cheek is broad and Keith tucks Shiro’s head gently under his chin and wraps strong arms around him, and Shiro feels light and small and safe.
--
Finally, after 6 months apart, they meet up again on Olara. Hunk and Lance have orchestrated this one, arranging for the whole team to be there.
Olara is a planet with even more ocean than Earth, and its people are largely pacifists. Lance says that while the planet wasn’t of much strategic value to the Galra Empire, they did conquer it just for the sake of cowing the Olarans into joining the Empire, so there’s some structural damage that he and Hunk have volunteered the Paladins to help with.
Except, when Shiro settles the Atlas into Olara’s orbit and takes a shuttle down to the surface, Lance meets him wearing swim trunks and an unbuttoned shirt.
“Shiro, my man, you’re here!” he yells.
“Uh -- hi, Lance,” Shiro says.
Lance wraps an arm around Shiro’s shoulders and guides him away from the landing pad and down a white sand path.
“I have got two words for you,” Lance says. “Beach. Planet.”
“Uhh--” Shiro says. He looks around them. It’s a beautifully sunny day, and they’re standing on a tropical island with the Olaran equivalent of palm trees (they’re purple and...fuzzier?) swaying in the breeze. There’s a few thatched roof structures ahead, most open to the air, all looking completely whole, and beyond them, the ocean, vast and blue. “I take it there isn’t actually any rebuilding to do here?”
“Nope!” Lance says cheerfully. “We haven’t had a get-together in ages, and then Hunk and I heard about this place, an entire planet full of islands and beaches, and the Olarans graciously agreed to host us when we asked. You are looking at a beach planet vacation, dude.”
“Did everybody else know about this but me?” Shiro asks, a little amused and a little bit offended. He would have scheduled in a vacation stop if anyone had asked him about it. He’s doing that now, relaxing sometimes.
“Just me and Allura and Hunk. I wanted to surprise you guys!” Lance says.
He leads Shiro up into the first structure. It seems to be made out of the purple palm tree wood, and while there are no walls, there are a number of gauzy fabrics hung where the walls would be and swaying in the breeze. There are low tables spread with food and drink, and hammocks strung between the poles that hold up the thatched roof. Beyond, a long dock cuts into the sea, where the rest of Shiro’s team -- the rest of his family -- are already swimming.
Lance spreads his arms wide. “Ta-da! Treats and refreshments courtesy of Hunk and our Olaran hosts here, and over there you will find a pair of swimtrunks with your name on them,” he points to the next building over, which does have walls. “Congrats, you’re on vacation!”
“This is really nice, Lance,” Shiro says.
“I know, right?” Lance grins big. “Okay, shoo, go get changed, I’m going back in the water.”
Shiro watches him duck under a curtain and run down the dock, cannonballing right into the water besides Allura and Hunk and splashing them both. It seems to set off a splashing war, with Pidge catching Lance right in the face with a spray of water when he resurfaces, and the others all piling in immediately.
All, that is, except Keith, who twists in the water and shades his eyes with his hand, staring down the dock towards the houses.
Shiro waves. Keith waves back, and starts to pull himself up onto the dock, but Shiro shakes his head and gestures towards the probable bathhouse where Lance said he could change. Keith stops and flashes him a thumbs up.
Inside the second house, there’s a long bench where everyone else’s clothes are either dumped or folded, and a pair of black swimtrunks at the very end that Shiro assumes are for him. He changes quickly, pausing when he strips down to his undershirt. For all they’ve been through together, most of the team hasn’t seen the long ropy scars that litter his torso and back. Shiro himself doesn’t like to think about his scars, because most of them are druid-inflicted replications of the scars that he bore on his original body. They’re all just the tiniest bit off from where they should be, or how thick they should be, and all they do is remind him that the body he now inhabits isn’t the one he was born in. But his undershirt is white, so wearing it isn’t going to prevent himself or the team from seeing them. Shiro pulls it off and stacks it on top of the rest of his clothes, nudging his boots under the bench.
They all have their scars. He’s not going to let them keep him from enjoying this vacation that Lance and Hunk have so carefully planned.
When he comes back out, Keith is sitting on the side of the dock, dangling his feet over the edge. His hair is just past his shoulders now, and it looks like Allura maybe has helped him with it, because it’s pulled back into a french braid that Shiro knows Keith has no idea how to do himself. Wisps of hair escape it, clinging wetly to his neck. He throws back his head and laughs at something Hunk says.
Shiro doesn’t know where to look -- at the long arch of Keith’s throat, glittering with drops of water, the curve of his back, the sharp v of his hipbones exposed by the low cling of his red swimtrunks. They’ve been apart six months this time, six long months of messages and voice chats and Shiro jealously guarding any glimpse he can get of the ways in which Keith has been growing and changing without him again.
He’s so gone on his best friend it isn’t even funny. He just wants, the ache for Keith so bone-deep it’s simply part of his DNA now.
Then Keith notices him.
“Shiro,” he says, in that soft voice he reserves just for Shiro. He gets up, flicking his braid over his shoulder with a motion so casual that Shiro is sure he doesn’t even notice it, and Shiro aches for that too, not getting to be there while Keith adjusted to having long hair.
“Hey, Keith,” Shiro says. In the background, the quiet crash of the waves continues, but all of their friends seem to have gone mysteriously silent.
And Keith -- Keith is so tall. A whole head taller than Shiro now, broad-shouldered and sun-kissed and beautiful.
Keith steps towards Shiro, and Shiro steps towards him too, because the two of them have always been a stellar collision waiting to happen.
“Tall,” Shiro blurts, as Keith gets within a hand’s reach.
Keith cocks his head.
“Yeah, Shiro, I’m kind of tall now,” he says, laughter in his voice. “I thought maybe you just weren’t ever gonna say anything.”
“Nng,” Shiro says, intelligibly, and Keith, the little -- the big -- shit, laughs at him outright.
“I think you broke him, Keith,” Pidge says from the water, and wow, Shiro had forgotten they had an audience. He looks over and sees that all of their friends have swum close and are, unabashedly, watching.
“Hmm,” Keith says, and then he reaches out and catches Shiro’s hand in his own, tugging him close. Shiro lands a little awkwardly against Keith’s chest, but Keith just holds him there, his other hand pressed warm against the small of Shiro’s back. And Shiro, goddammit, has to crane his neck to look Keith in the eye from this close.
“Like it?” Keith whispers, and there’s the tiniest note there, in his voice, of insecurity, of doubt. Shiro absolutely cannot have that.
“God, yes,” he breathes, and pushes up to kiss Keith on the mouth.
In the water beside them, Lance and Pidge whoop obnoxiously, and Allura and Hunk might actually be sniffling, and the waves crash, and the seabirds cry overhead. And Keith bends down to meet him, his Keith, who smells like saltwater and sunlight, and tastes like home.