On Darkling Wings - IV
Title: On Darkling Wings
Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defenders
Pairing: Keith/Shiro, Shiro/OMC
Warnings: This is a reincarnation AU. They don't stay dead permanently, but they ARE reincarnated, therefore, must die. A lot. To get reincarnated a lot. Also mentions of non-con (not Shiro/Keith).
Summary: Eons ago, a legend was born about the Darkling; a Demi-God who stole the God Caltek's most prized possession. The reality was far more tragic, for eons ago, the Gods created a perfect creature. Shiro was beautiful and they fought amongst themselves to keep him. Caltek, God of War, won the right and he pampered and cared for this perfect being. His creature was human though, and humans, no matter how perfectly they had been formed, were fiercely independent. When the Darkling fell to Shiro's world, he taught Shiro the nature of love, and of the prison his life was.
Caught in a tryst and on the eve of their escape, the God Caltek cursed the two lovers. Their souls would be forever bound, life after life, death after death, but only one would remember.
The stagecoach pulled away from the town and Keith let out a deep sigh as he tried to adjust to the steady rocking. He'd been traveling for weeks now and while he enjoyed the soft bed he'd been afforded in the small town he was ready to start the last leg of their journey. At least once they arrived in San Francisco he would be able to stay for a while. Keith loved traveling to new places but stagecoach wasn't his favorite mode of transport. He'd have preferred the train or even riding horseback himself but he had been given very strict orders.
The family that had been traveling in the coach with him for most of the journey opted to stay in the small town when news of bandits drifted back to them but Keith has no such fears. It was the West. Rumors or no, bandits were always a danger.
"I'm surprised there are only the two of us," the man sitting across from him said. "The thrill of the big city usually makes this end of the trip full."
Keith turned his attention to the new face. He hadn't been a part of the journey; someone new in the last town who bought a ticket to the city. He was a man of money, Keith could tell from his silk vest and fine watch but his boots told the story of a working man and the scar across his nose gave hints of a more dangerous occupation.
"There was a family of six that decided to try their fortune here instead of San Francisco. I'm sure the coachmen tried to fill the carriage on short notice," Keith answered.
The man nodded. "I suppose that means we'll be getting to know one another in the next couple of days," the man said. "My name is Takashi Shirogane."
"Keith Kogane."
They shook and Keith noticed the firm handshake and the way calloused fingers traced along Keith's fingers as they released. It was a simple enough introduction, and Keith was reassured by the fact that the man knew the way of a gun from the feel of those hands.
"What business do you have in San Francisco?" Mr. Shirogane asked.
"I'm just here, making sure a package gets delivered on time," he said. "And yourself?"
"Something along the same lines," he said with a smile.
"Hopefully it will be an uneventful trip."
The other man smiled and when he tipped his hat forward over his eyes and stretched ridiculously long legs across the space between them, Keith allowed himself to watch as the man fell into a light sleep. They said you could tell a real cowboy by his ability to sleep anywhere and his ability to eat anything. Keith couldn't help but smile and wonder what stories he would get out of one Takashi Shirogane.
The journey took them two weeks and in that time Keith got to know the man better, as well as their driver, Hunk and the coachmen who road along with him, Lance. During the evenings, when it got too dark for the horses to carry along safely, they stopped and made camp, and the two carriage-men shared stories of the road and of the world they'd seen. Hunk made their campfire cooking into a meal worthy of a fancy restaurant while Lance confessed he'd once wanted to be a musician and he pulled a dusty old guitar from the coach and entertained them with songs.
During the day, the coach sped on towards their destination and it was Keith and Shiro, alone, to fill the time. At first, it was infrequent interruptions as something random was said, then it became more conversational as they got to know one another. They both had a love of adventure and, of their own accord, would have preferred to have ridden the journey on horseback instead of in a carriage. Shiro, it turned out, was a Marshall and a good one at that, being called all the way from New York to San Francisco.
As the hours passed, sitting across from one another became sitting next to one another. Sometimes silences fell between them and they slept the hours away. Sometimes, Keith woke to find his head on Shiro's shoulder. He'd be embarrassed by that, except that Shiro would fall asleep as well leaning just as heavily on Keith.
One day, a careless brush of hands turned into a magnificent blush on Shiro's face. The next brush of hands wasn't quite so careless.
It was a dangerous flirtation but Keith couldn't stop himself. Nothing would come of it. Nothing could come of it. They'd separate in San Francisco, and no matter how much Keith wanted, this wasn't his to have. One night changed everything though.
Rain came upon them while they were camped under a canopy of great fir trees. They could try to cramp together in the coach and keep dry, but after days of riding inside, neither Keith nor Shiro were interested. Hunk and Lance took the chance to sleep in the dry compartment and Keith and Shiro were left to fend for themselves.
The fir trees themselves did an excellent job of holding back the rain and Keith found one large enough that he and Shiro could sleep in the center beneath the great boughs, dry and isolated from any watchful eyes by the stream of rain pouring outside their bed for the night.
Keith hadn't planned for this, but when Keith laid on his back next to Shiro, the other man sat up on one elbow and smiled down at him. "This would be completely improper if you were a young maiden."
Keith laughed. "Good thing I am not a young maiden."
Shiro spoke the words Keith would never have had the courage to. "If you were a young maiden, your virtue would be safe in my hands." When he leaned closer, Keith let out a deep breath. He'd never had an intimate relationship with anyone, no girl had ever held his attention this way and Keith had been far too careful of his shortcomings to allow himself to be caught up in his affection for men. This was something entirely different though and when Shiro's lips stopped a breath away, Keith closed the distance.
Shiro's lips were dry against his and as he leaned over Keith, his hand gripped Keith's hip. It was warm in ways no other person's touch had ever felt.
"Keith," Shiro whispered as Keith wrapped his arm around Shiro's back and pulled him closer. "What do you want, Keith?"
"Everything I can have of you tonight."
Shiro's knee came up between Keith's legs and Keith spread them in invitation. Shiro shifted to rest his weight over Keith. Keith tightened his grip on the back of Shiro's jacket and moaned into the kiss. Their kisses left Keith light headed but the feel of Shiro over him was grounding.
Shiro presses his hips against Keith's and they moaned in unison at the friction it caused between them. "Keith, I want you."
"Yes," Keith said against his lips. "Anything you want."
"Have you been with a man before?" Shiro asked. Keith just shook his head. "Have you ever lain with anyone before?"
"You stole my first kiss," Keith admitted. "What else will you steal from me tonight?"
Shiro smiled. "Everything."
The next morning they boarded the stagecoach and spent the days as they had before, speaking of the world and enjoying the scenery. If the coachmen thought it odd that they sat on the bench beside one another instead of across from each other from the start they never said anything. And if their conversations were interrupted with the sweet press of lips and a mutual attempt to learn as much as they could with all their clothing in the way, no one was the wiser.
At night, they stole away from the coachmen who were happy enough to take advantage of the coach benches and sleep inside the warm coach. Keith and Shiro never wanted for heat on their nights together anyway.
San Francisco came into view and while they both had obligations, they also had a plan. It wasn't immediate, but Keith had learned patience in his life and Shiro had pressed promises into his skin each night, with lips and fingers and echoed them with words as they parted ways.
It took five years before they met again. Letters had passed between them since their departure, promises again, that they were still working towards the same goal. They were a cold comfort, but Shiro's words allowed Keith to remember those few passionate nights with a clarity that kept him sane.
Five years of saving his money, of working his hardest to do what he needed to do. He wrangling cattle and sheep and goats and raising pigs and crops. He took whatever jobs could take him a step closer to Shiro. Shiro built a reputation that even Keith had heard of as a Marshall of renown and of good faith. Their lives weren't safe and there had been some close calls over the years, for the both of them, but Keith held each letter close to his heart, a bundle strung together by twine in his saddle pack. It was the only precious item he carried, other than a knife left to him when his mother passed away.
The farmstead was small but well placed in the small valley. The town was an hour's ride away. The nearest neighbor was half that. As Keith rode up to the house, he could see a few animals out in the back, a small start but a good one. There was a field beyond that, well tilled and teeming with life already. As Keith dismounted, he brought his horse to the small barn to the left of the house and found a stall prepared. Keith took care of the saddle and gear, then saw to the horse before he took his saddlebags and headed towards the front porch.
When he reached the bottom step, the front door creaked open and Keith looked up to find Shiro standing before him. "Looks like you've had a long road, cowboy," Shiro said with a smile.
Keith couldn't help but smile back. "I suppose it was. I'm just glad it's over."
Shiro reached for his hand and Keith let him drag him up the stairs. "Welcome home, Keith."
Home. A word that hadn't meant anything to him since he was a child. A word that he had been building in his heart for the last five years. Home was Shiro. Home was the life they were working for. Home was a small farmhouse far enough away from the world so no one would mind two old hands settling in and retiring there. A town close enough to get supplies but that allowed them to stay out of everyone's business.
"You gonna give me the tour?"
Shiro took his saddlebags and dropped them just inside the front door, then pulled Keith away from the front. "Unimportant room, unimportant room, unimportant room," he said as he walked through the farmhouse. He pushed Keith through the last door on the left and he barely had the time to see a bed before he was pressed up against a wall with Shiro's arms bracketing him. "Bedroom."
"I like this tour," Keith admitted as he wet his lips.
Shiro smiled as he leaned closer. "It's about to get much more thorough."
"God, Shiro, stop talking." Keith grabbed Shiro by the back of the neck and pulled him down for a kiss. It was everything he remembered and some he didn't. Because he remembered the way Shiro's dry lips felt pressed to his, but he had never made that sound before. Because he remembered the feel of Shiro's hand's unbuttoning his vest and shirt, but he'd never had the time to notice the way Shiro's hand shook as he took his time and divested Keith of each item. Because he remembered the press of Shiro in his body, but he'd never felt the softness of a mattress under his back or felt the press of Shiro's body behind him as he was held in his arms long after their lovemaking was complete.
When they grew hungry, Shiro gave him a real tour of their home and Keith nodded with each thought of what they needed to do next to improve it and leave their mark. When the stars came out, Shiro took Keith back to bed and after another round of lovemaking, they fell asleep in each other's arms. They woke in each other's arms. It was the way Keith wanted to live every day of his life.
And for three years, he did. They worked the land and raised their small pens of animals. They grew what they needed and traded labor or goods for what they had to buy at the general store. They were well respected in town, two men that were willing to help out when it was rough going, who smiled when they came to social gatherings, and who returned quietly to their own home.
When the fire broke out and smoke reached the neighbor, word spread quickly and the whole town ran as fast as they could to try to help, but it was too late.
There was no great irony to it, no tragic story of younger deeds come back to haunt them. It was just a random bandit, needing a place to hide and getting a jump on them when they were too caught up in each other to notice the horses spook. The fire started when the outlaw fell into the lantern, shot dead by Keith even as he staggered to get to Shiro's body, his own already growing weak from the wounds he'd suffered in the fight.
They died of their wounds, but burned together, as if they refused to be separated even in death.
***
They were sitting on the side of the road, nothing but sun and grassy fields and a bottle of booze between them. The car was hidden back among the trees, a trunk full of liquor to distribute. The cops had been on their tails lately and the off the road path was supposed to be the new meeting place. Keith smiled at Shiro as the other man took a long pull from the bottle before he handed it over. Their hands brushed and Shiro took a little too long to pull away. Keith never mentioned it. Neither did Shiro. It was good though and Keith thought if he never had anything else in this world, he had these moments with Shiro and that was enough.
Running booze wasn't the safest profession but Keith was good in a fight and he'd seen Shiro take on half a dozen guys and still come out on top. The scar that ran across the bridge of his nose wasn't for decoration after all. That small imperfection made Shiro more real, less a greek model of perfection than he was otherwise.
Keith took his turn with the bottle to stop that train of thought. His stupid dreams put the worst things in his head. He dreamed of different lives, different times, Shiro ever present and always so perfectly himself. Some dreams he knew Shiro and others he didn't. Some dreams, he touched Shiro and was welcomed. In others, they weren't lovers but love was between them all the same.
Like this life.
Keith would do anything for Shiro though and he knew the older man felt the same. If they sometimes stared a little too long at the other, if Keith sometimes had the urge to lean closer and lick the taste of whiskey off his lips, no one had to know. It was just something between them. And screw the guys that said there was something wrong with it because no one in their right mind could look at Shiro and not want to touch him.
"What do you think about past lives?" Keith asked as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
Shiro smirked at him as he took the bottle back. "You been hittin' this when I ain't lookin'?"
Keith laughed. "Nah. Just this girl at the speakeasy."
"You reckon I done something wrong, to end up a bootlegger with the likes of you?" Shiro teased.
"I figure you done something right somewhere," Keith laughed. "Sure as hell wasn't here in this lifetime."
"Suppose not," Shiro said. "Maybe. It's a nice thought though, ain't it? Screw up in this life, but we get another chance to make it better in the next?"
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Maybe find somethin' not so complicated. Just get myself a business of my own. Be my own man. Find someone special and settle down together. Live a simple life."
"No guns. No fights. Just a clean life? Can't see you doin' that," Keith answered.
"Maybe not," Shiro took another drink before he passed it to Keith. "It sounds good though, right?"
"Guess if you found the right person to settle down with."
Shiro smiled. "Until then, guess I'm stuck here, making a whole mess of trouble with you."
A car pulled onto the long path up the way and Keith and Shiro stood. It was a minute or two before their guy was supposed to arrive but Matt and Pidge had said it was a new guy and he seemed the nervous type. The car slowed but the window came down and both Shiro and Keith were running back towards the car. Keith heard the gun before he saw Shiro go down. Keith was just a minute behind him.
Keith crawled slowly towards Shiro but he could see dead eyes from where he was. When he was close enough to reach his hand, Keith took it in his own. "Next life, Shiro," he said as he coughed up blood. "I'll find you in the next one."
A bullet made the promise his last words.
***
"What the hell are you doing?"
Keith threw himself into the fight but he already knew it was a losing battle. It had been a losing battle since the moment he'd met Shirogane Takashi. An internment camp was no place for love, and this was no time for an American soldier to fall for someone of Japanese descent, let alone two men.
It had happened though, and Keith had never felt more alive than he had with his time with Takashi.
He didn't know how they'd found out, but the jeers and insults they threw showed that they knew. It didn't matter how. No one would stop the assault and no one would question it either.
Keith punched the first soldier in the face but he was up against five and Takashi was already on the ground. "Leave him alone!" Keith yelled at his attackers.
They didn't go easy on him because he was American. No, they saw him as a traitor, to fall in love with someone like Takashi. A deviant traitor at that. Keith was no longer one of them and they decided that he deserved everything they could aim at him.
When he fell, he threw his body on Takashi's, wrapping himself over his back and head to try to protect him as best he could. It wouldn't last. It couldn't.
The last thing Shirogane Takashi felt before he died was Keith's body wrapped around his own, a warmth in a life that had always been too cold.
Keith died protecting the man he loved. And in his death, he remembered just how many times he had died, protecting the man he loved.
***
He was just a boy. It was tragic, but this was what Keith did and that this boy stung his heart so much just made it all harder. Keith had dealt with it too many times to count. Sometimes his patients won the battle. Other times the bastard won. No matter how his young charge fought though, this was a losing battle.
One that Takashi Shirogane had lost.
There was no telling the boy that though. He smiled as if his body wasn't wasting away and pain didn't eat up at him. He smiled as if Dr. Keith Kogane wasn't the only regular visitor in his room and he wasn't an orphan with no one but social workers and hospital caretakers to see him every day.
"What would you like to do today?" Keith asked Shiro as he sat on the edge of the bed. It was his day off, but he never missed a day visiting Shiro.
Shiro coughed, too sick to do more than sit with assistance, but he smiled anyway. "Today I'm going to swim the English Channel."
"Really?" Keith asked. "That's a lot of swimming."
Shiro closed his eyes. "Yeah, but imagine it," the ten-year-old said. "Swimming out so far that there was no one else around. No one to come in and check on you all the time to make sure you were doing what you were supposed to. Just you and all that space. Nothing tying you to the ground. I bet if you laid on your back in the water at night, it would feel like you were in space, floating with the stars."
Keith nodded. "I bet it would."
"Dream with me?" Shiro asked.
Keith nodded. "One minute. Let me fix some of this."
It was simple enough. He turned off the monitors. He pulled the wires from Shiro's body and the boy smiled too widely for Keith's already breaking heart. Like he knew what Keith was doing. Like he approved. And then Keith took the needle he'd held in his hand since he walked in and he injected Shiro with a dose before he turned away from the boy's watchful eyes and injected himself with the rest of the medication.
When he laid down on the bed beside the boy, Shiro let out a deep breath. "Close your eyes," the boy said softly. Keith did and Shiro kept talking. "I bet if we were in space right now it would be cold. I wouldn't even notice it though because I would act like I was swimming."
"The English Channel?"
"Just like that," Shiro said happily. "What should we name our space ship?"
"The Shirogane?"
"Ewee! No. The Ogane!" Shiro exclaimed. "Cause it's your name and my name, both. Kinda." Keith laughed with Shiro but he could already hear the yawn in Shiro's voice as he kept talking. "My ship is going to look like a lion!"
Keith smiled. "A lion? In space? I don't know about that. Mine is going to look like a big man."
"With a big butt!"
"What?"
"The nurses always say you like big butts."
Keith shook his head. "I'm going to have to talk to your nurses."
Shiro giggled. "They always think I'm sleeping. They never know when I'm faking it. Not like you."
"Alright, so I have a big butted robot and you have a lion ship. What are we gonna do with those?"
"Save the universe, of course." Shiro yawned again and he curled into Keith's side. "After we take a nap."
Keith wrapped an arm around Shiro and held him close. He closed his eyes against the tears but his throat was thick with them. "Yeah, after we take a nap."
"Thank you, Dr. Keith. You always share the best stories with me."
"Your welcome. Sleep tight now. You know I love you, right buddy?"
Shiro sighed. "Love you too, Dr. Keith."
Shiro fell asleep a few minutes later. As Keith felt his eyes droop closed, memories pressed into him, lives he had already lived with Shiro. Lives where the boy was older than him, loved by him in ways this Shiro would never grow up to experience. Keith let out the sob he'd been holding and he pulled Shiro closer, heartbroken over the latest in a long line of tragic lives they had led.
When the nursing staff came to check on Shiro, they found him asleep curled up with Dr. Kogane. It wasn't something you saw often, but there were rumors that Dr. Kogane had tried to adopt the orphan. Perhaps if he hadn't been terminal he would have had time to fight the courts.
When Hunk went to check the boy's vitals, he found no pulse, no heartbeat. When he tried to wake the doctor, he was surprised to find the same. The press would come to call it a murder-suicide. That night, Hunk, Pidge, and Lance went out to have drinks and toasted the two lost souls. Keith had always been one to keep to himself. He'd suffered depression off and on most of his life, but in the last few months, there had been a light to his eyes that made them all think he'd found a way to battle those demons. They realized now, he'd just seen an end to them.
***
On to Chapter V
Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defenders
Pairing: Keith/Shiro, Shiro/OMC
Warnings: This is a reincarnation AU. They don't stay dead permanently, but they ARE reincarnated, therefore, must die. A lot. To get reincarnated a lot. Also mentions of non-con (not Shiro/Keith).
Summary: Eons ago, a legend was born about the Darkling; a Demi-God who stole the God Caltek's most prized possession. The reality was far more tragic, for eons ago, the Gods created a perfect creature. Shiro was beautiful and they fought amongst themselves to keep him. Caltek, God of War, won the right and he pampered and cared for this perfect being. His creature was human though, and humans, no matter how perfectly they had been formed, were fiercely independent. When the Darkling fell to Shiro's world, he taught Shiro the nature of love, and of the prison his life was.
Caught in a tryst and on the eve of their escape, the God Caltek cursed the two lovers. Their souls would be forever bound, life after life, death after death, but only one would remember.
The stagecoach pulled away from the town and Keith let out a deep sigh as he tried to adjust to the steady rocking. He'd been traveling for weeks now and while he enjoyed the soft bed he'd been afforded in the small town he was ready to start the last leg of their journey. At least once they arrived in San Francisco he would be able to stay for a while. Keith loved traveling to new places but stagecoach wasn't his favorite mode of transport. He'd have preferred the train or even riding horseback himself but he had been given very strict orders.
The family that had been traveling in the coach with him for most of the journey opted to stay in the small town when news of bandits drifted back to them but Keith has no such fears. It was the West. Rumors or no, bandits were always a danger.
"I'm surprised there are only the two of us," the man sitting across from him said. "The thrill of the big city usually makes this end of the trip full."
Keith turned his attention to the new face. He hadn't been a part of the journey; someone new in the last town who bought a ticket to the city. He was a man of money, Keith could tell from his silk vest and fine watch but his boots told the story of a working man and the scar across his nose gave hints of a more dangerous occupation.
"There was a family of six that decided to try their fortune here instead of San Francisco. I'm sure the coachmen tried to fill the carriage on short notice," Keith answered.
The man nodded. "I suppose that means we'll be getting to know one another in the next couple of days," the man said. "My name is Takashi Shirogane."
"Keith Kogane."
They shook and Keith noticed the firm handshake and the way calloused fingers traced along Keith's fingers as they released. It was a simple enough introduction, and Keith was reassured by the fact that the man knew the way of a gun from the feel of those hands.
"What business do you have in San Francisco?" Mr. Shirogane asked.
"I'm just here, making sure a package gets delivered on time," he said. "And yourself?"
"Something along the same lines," he said with a smile.
"Hopefully it will be an uneventful trip."
The other man smiled and when he tipped his hat forward over his eyes and stretched ridiculously long legs across the space between them, Keith allowed himself to watch as the man fell into a light sleep. They said you could tell a real cowboy by his ability to sleep anywhere and his ability to eat anything. Keith couldn't help but smile and wonder what stories he would get out of one Takashi Shirogane.
The journey took them two weeks and in that time Keith got to know the man better, as well as their driver, Hunk and the coachmen who road along with him, Lance. During the evenings, when it got too dark for the horses to carry along safely, they stopped and made camp, and the two carriage-men shared stories of the road and of the world they'd seen. Hunk made their campfire cooking into a meal worthy of a fancy restaurant while Lance confessed he'd once wanted to be a musician and he pulled a dusty old guitar from the coach and entertained them with songs.
During the day, the coach sped on towards their destination and it was Keith and Shiro, alone, to fill the time. At first, it was infrequent interruptions as something random was said, then it became more conversational as they got to know one another. They both had a love of adventure and, of their own accord, would have preferred to have ridden the journey on horseback instead of in a carriage. Shiro, it turned out, was a Marshall and a good one at that, being called all the way from New York to San Francisco.
As the hours passed, sitting across from one another became sitting next to one another. Sometimes silences fell between them and they slept the hours away. Sometimes, Keith woke to find his head on Shiro's shoulder. He'd be embarrassed by that, except that Shiro would fall asleep as well leaning just as heavily on Keith.
One day, a careless brush of hands turned into a magnificent blush on Shiro's face. The next brush of hands wasn't quite so careless.
It was a dangerous flirtation but Keith couldn't stop himself. Nothing would come of it. Nothing could come of it. They'd separate in San Francisco, and no matter how much Keith wanted, this wasn't his to have. One night changed everything though.
Rain came upon them while they were camped under a canopy of great fir trees. They could try to cramp together in the coach and keep dry, but after days of riding inside, neither Keith nor Shiro were interested. Hunk and Lance took the chance to sleep in the dry compartment and Keith and Shiro were left to fend for themselves.
The fir trees themselves did an excellent job of holding back the rain and Keith found one large enough that he and Shiro could sleep in the center beneath the great boughs, dry and isolated from any watchful eyes by the stream of rain pouring outside their bed for the night.
Keith hadn't planned for this, but when Keith laid on his back next to Shiro, the other man sat up on one elbow and smiled down at him. "This would be completely improper if you were a young maiden."
Keith laughed. "Good thing I am not a young maiden."
Shiro spoke the words Keith would never have had the courage to. "If you were a young maiden, your virtue would be safe in my hands." When he leaned closer, Keith let out a deep breath. He'd never had an intimate relationship with anyone, no girl had ever held his attention this way and Keith had been far too careful of his shortcomings to allow himself to be caught up in his affection for men. This was something entirely different though and when Shiro's lips stopped a breath away, Keith closed the distance.
Shiro's lips were dry against his and as he leaned over Keith, his hand gripped Keith's hip. It was warm in ways no other person's touch had ever felt.
"Keith," Shiro whispered as Keith wrapped his arm around Shiro's back and pulled him closer. "What do you want, Keith?"
"Everything I can have of you tonight."
Shiro's knee came up between Keith's legs and Keith spread them in invitation. Shiro shifted to rest his weight over Keith. Keith tightened his grip on the back of Shiro's jacket and moaned into the kiss. Their kisses left Keith light headed but the feel of Shiro over him was grounding.
Shiro presses his hips against Keith's and they moaned in unison at the friction it caused between them. "Keith, I want you."
"Yes," Keith said against his lips. "Anything you want."
"Have you been with a man before?" Shiro asked. Keith just shook his head. "Have you ever lain with anyone before?"
"You stole my first kiss," Keith admitted. "What else will you steal from me tonight?"
Shiro smiled. "Everything."
The next morning they boarded the stagecoach and spent the days as they had before, speaking of the world and enjoying the scenery. If the coachmen thought it odd that they sat on the bench beside one another instead of across from each other from the start they never said anything. And if their conversations were interrupted with the sweet press of lips and a mutual attempt to learn as much as they could with all their clothing in the way, no one was the wiser.
At night, they stole away from the coachmen who were happy enough to take advantage of the coach benches and sleep inside the warm coach. Keith and Shiro never wanted for heat on their nights together anyway.
San Francisco came into view and while they both had obligations, they also had a plan. It wasn't immediate, but Keith had learned patience in his life and Shiro had pressed promises into his skin each night, with lips and fingers and echoed them with words as they parted ways.
It took five years before they met again. Letters had passed between them since their departure, promises again, that they were still working towards the same goal. They were a cold comfort, but Shiro's words allowed Keith to remember those few passionate nights with a clarity that kept him sane.
Five years of saving his money, of working his hardest to do what he needed to do. He wrangling cattle and sheep and goats and raising pigs and crops. He took whatever jobs could take him a step closer to Shiro. Shiro built a reputation that even Keith had heard of as a Marshall of renown and of good faith. Their lives weren't safe and there had been some close calls over the years, for the both of them, but Keith held each letter close to his heart, a bundle strung together by twine in his saddle pack. It was the only precious item he carried, other than a knife left to him when his mother passed away.
The farmstead was small but well placed in the small valley. The town was an hour's ride away. The nearest neighbor was half that. As Keith rode up to the house, he could see a few animals out in the back, a small start but a good one. There was a field beyond that, well tilled and teeming with life already. As Keith dismounted, he brought his horse to the small barn to the left of the house and found a stall prepared. Keith took care of the saddle and gear, then saw to the horse before he took his saddlebags and headed towards the front porch.
When he reached the bottom step, the front door creaked open and Keith looked up to find Shiro standing before him. "Looks like you've had a long road, cowboy," Shiro said with a smile.
Keith couldn't help but smile back. "I suppose it was. I'm just glad it's over."
Shiro reached for his hand and Keith let him drag him up the stairs. "Welcome home, Keith."
Home. A word that hadn't meant anything to him since he was a child. A word that he had been building in his heart for the last five years. Home was Shiro. Home was the life they were working for. Home was a small farmhouse far enough away from the world so no one would mind two old hands settling in and retiring there. A town close enough to get supplies but that allowed them to stay out of everyone's business.
"You gonna give me the tour?"
Shiro took his saddlebags and dropped them just inside the front door, then pulled Keith away from the front. "Unimportant room, unimportant room, unimportant room," he said as he walked through the farmhouse. He pushed Keith through the last door on the left and he barely had the time to see a bed before he was pressed up against a wall with Shiro's arms bracketing him. "Bedroom."
"I like this tour," Keith admitted as he wet his lips.
Shiro smiled as he leaned closer. "It's about to get much more thorough."
"God, Shiro, stop talking." Keith grabbed Shiro by the back of the neck and pulled him down for a kiss. It was everything he remembered and some he didn't. Because he remembered the way Shiro's dry lips felt pressed to his, but he had never made that sound before. Because he remembered the feel of Shiro's hand's unbuttoning his vest and shirt, but he'd never had the time to notice the way Shiro's hand shook as he took his time and divested Keith of each item. Because he remembered the press of Shiro in his body, but he'd never felt the softness of a mattress under his back or felt the press of Shiro's body behind him as he was held in his arms long after their lovemaking was complete.
When they grew hungry, Shiro gave him a real tour of their home and Keith nodded with each thought of what they needed to do next to improve it and leave their mark. When the stars came out, Shiro took Keith back to bed and after another round of lovemaking, they fell asleep in each other's arms. They woke in each other's arms. It was the way Keith wanted to live every day of his life.
And for three years, he did. They worked the land and raised their small pens of animals. They grew what they needed and traded labor or goods for what they had to buy at the general store. They were well respected in town, two men that were willing to help out when it was rough going, who smiled when they came to social gatherings, and who returned quietly to their own home.
When the fire broke out and smoke reached the neighbor, word spread quickly and the whole town ran as fast as they could to try to help, but it was too late.
There was no great irony to it, no tragic story of younger deeds come back to haunt them. It was just a random bandit, needing a place to hide and getting a jump on them when they were too caught up in each other to notice the horses spook. The fire started when the outlaw fell into the lantern, shot dead by Keith even as he staggered to get to Shiro's body, his own already growing weak from the wounds he'd suffered in the fight.
They died of their wounds, but burned together, as if they refused to be separated even in death.
***
They were sitting on the side of the road, nothing but sun and grassy fields and a bottle of booze between them. The car was hidden back among the trees, a trunk full of liquor to distribute. The cops had been on their tails lately and the off the road path was supposed to be the new meeting place. Keith smiled at Shiro as the other man took a long pull from the bottle before he handed it over. Their hands brushed and Shiro took a little too long to pull away. Keith never mentioned it. Neither did Shiro. It was good though and Keith thought if he never had anything else in this world, he had these moments with Shiro and that was enough.
Running booze wasn't the safest profession but Keith was good in a fight and he'd seen Shiro take on half a dozen guys and still come out on top. The scar that ran across the bridge of his nose wasn't for decoration after all. That small imperfection made Shiro more real, less a greek model of perfection than he was otherwise.
Keith took his turn with the bottle to stop that train of thought. His stupid dreams put the worst things in his head. He dreamed of different lives, different times, Shiro ever present and always so perfectly himself. Some dreams he knew Shiro and others he didn't. Some dreams, he touched Shiro and was welcomed. In others, they weren't lovers but love was between them all the same.
Like this life.
Keith would do anything for Shiro though and he knew the older man felt the same. If they sometimes stared a little too long at the other, if Keith sometimes had the urge to lean closer and lick the taste of whiskey off his lips, no one had to know. It was just something between them. And screw the guys that said there was something wrong with it because no one in their right mind could look at Shiro and not want to touch him.
"What do you think about past lives?" Keith asked as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
Shiro smirked at him as he took the bottle back. "You been hittin' this when I ain't lookin'?"
Keith laughed. "Nah. Just this girl at the speakeasy."
"You reckon I done something wrong, to end up a bootlegger with the likes of you?" Shiro teased.
"I figure you done something right somewhere," Keith laughed. "Sure as hell wasn't here in this lifetime."
"Suppose not," Shiro said. "Maybe. It's a nice thought though, ain't it? Screw up in this life, but we get another chance to make it better in the next?"
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Maybe find somethin' not so complicated. Just get myself a business of my own. Be my own man. Find someone special and settle down together. Live a simple life."
"No guns. No fights. Just a clean life? Can't see you doin' that," Keith answered.
"Maybe not," Shiro took another drink before he passed it to Keith. "It sounds good though, right?"
"Guess if you found the right person to settle down with."
Shiro smiled. "Until then, guess I'm stuck here, making a whole mess of trouble with you."
A car pulled onto the long path up the way and Keith and Shiro stood. It was a minute or two before their guy was supposed to arrive but Matt and Pidge had said it was a new guy and he seemed the nervous type. The car slowed but the window came down and both Shiro and Keith were running back towards the car. Keith heard the gun before he saw Shiro go down. Keith was just a minute behind him.
Keith crawled slowly towards Shiro but he could see dead eyes from where he was. When he was close enough to reach his hand, Keith took it in his own. "Next life, Shiro," he said as he coughed up blood. "I'll find you in the next one."
A bullet made the promise his last words.
***
"What the hell are you doing?"
Keith threw himself into the fight but he already knew it was a losing battle. It had been a losing battle since the moment he'd met Shirogane Takashi. An internment camp was no place for love, and this was no time for an American soldier to fall for someone of Japanese descent, let alone two men.
It had happened though, and Keith had never felt more alive than he had with his time with Takashi.
He didn't know how they'd found out, but the jeers and insults they threw showed that they knew. It didn't matter how. No one would stop the assault and no one would question it either.
Keith punched the first soldier in the face but he was up against five and Takashi was already on the ground. "Leave him alone!" Keith yelled at his attackers.
They didn't go easy on him because he was American. No, they saw him as a traitor, to fall in love with someone like Takashi. A deviant traitor at that. Keith was no longer one of them and they decided that he deserved everything they could aim at him.
When he fell, he threw his body on Takashi's, wrapping himself over his back and head to try to protect him as best he could. It wouldn't last. It couldn't.
The last thing Shirogane Takashi felt before he died was Keith's body wrapped around his own, a warmth in a life that had always been too cold.
Keith died protecting the man he loved. And in his death, he remembered just how many times he had died, protecting the man he loved.
***
He was just a boy. It was tragic, but this was what Keith did and that this boy stung his heart so much just made it all harder. Keith had dealt with it too many times to count. Sometimes his patients won the battle. Other times the bastard won. No matter how his young charge fought though, this was a losing battle.
One that Takashi Shirogane had lost.
There was no telling the boy that though. He smiled as if his body wasn't wasting away and pain didn't eat up at him. He smiled as if Dr. Keith Kogane wasn't the only regular visitor in his room and he wasn't an orphan with no one but social workers and hospital caretakers to see him every day.
"What would you like to do today?" Keith asked Shiro as he sat on the edge of the bed. It was his day off, but he never missed a day visiting Shiro.
Shiro coughed, too sick to do more than sit with assistance, but he smiled anyway. "Today I'm going to swim the English Channel."
"Really?" Keith asked. "That's a lot of swimming."
Shiro closed his eyes. "Yeah, but imagine it," the ten-year-old said. "Swimming out so far that there was no one else around. No one to come in and check on you all the time to make sure you were doing what you were supposed to. Just you and all that space. Nothing tying you to the ground. I bet if you laid on your back in the water at night, it would feel like you were in space, floating with the stars."
Keith nodded. "I bet it would."
"Dream with me?" Shiro asked.
Keith nodded. "One minute. Let me fix some of this."
It was simple enough. He turned off the monitors. He pulled the wires from Shiro's body and the boy smiled too widely for Keith's already breaking heart. Like he knew what Keith was doing. Like he approved. And then Keith took the needle he'd held in his hand since he walked in and he injected Shiro with a dose before he turned away from the boy's watchful eyes and injected himself with the rest of the medication.
When he laid down on the bed beside the boy, Shiro let out a deep breath. "Close your eyes," the boy said softly. Keith did and Shiro kept talking. "I bet if we were in space right now it would be cold. I wouldn't even notice it though because I would act like I was swimming."
"The English Channel?"
"Just like that," Shiro said happily. "What should we name our space ship?"
"The Shirogane?"
"Ewee! No. The Ogane!" Shiro exclaimed. "Cause it's your name and my name, both. Kinda." Keith laughed with Shiro but he could already hear the yawn in Shiro's voice as he kept talking. "My ship is going to look like a lion!"
Keith smiled. "A lion? In space? I don't know about that. Mine is going to look like a big man."
"With a big butt!"
"What?"
"The nurses always say you like big butts."
Keith shook his head. "I'm going to have to talk to your nurses."
Shiro giggled. "They always think I'm sleeping. They never know when I'm faking it. Not like you."
"Alright, so I have a big butted robot and you have a lion ship. What are we gonna do with those?"
"Save the universe, of course." Shiro yawned again and he curled into Keith's side. "After we take a nap."
Keith wrapped an arm around Shiro and held him close. He closed his eyes against the tears but his throat was thick with them. "Yeah, after we take a nap."
"Thank you, Dr. Keith. You always share the best stories with me."
"Your welcome. Sleep tight now. You know I love you, right buddy?"
Shiro sighed. "Love you too, Dr. Keith."
Shiro fell asleep a few minutes later. As Keith felt his eyes droop closed, memories pressed into him, lives he had already lived with Shiro. Lives where the boy was older than him, loved by him in ways this Shiro would never grow up to experience. Keith let out the sob he'd been holding and he pulled Shiro closer, heartbroken over the latest in a long line of tragic lives they had led.
When the nursing staff came to check on Shiro, they found him asleep curled up with Dr. Kogane. It wasn't something you saw often, but there were rumors that Dr. Kogane had tried to adopt the orphan. Perhaps if he hadn't been terminal he would have had time to fight the courts.
When Hunk went to check the boy's vitals, he found no pulse, no heartbeat. When he tried to wake the doctor, he was surprised to find the same. The press would come to call it a murder-suicide. That night, Hunk, Pidge, and Lance went out to have drinks and toasted the two lost souls. Keith had always been one to keep to himself. He'd suffered depression off and on most of his life, but in the last few months, there had been a light to his eyes that made them all think he'd found a way to battle those demons. They realized now, he'd just seen an end to them.
***
On to Chapter V