#but I did get a diagnosis n i’m real happy bout that

[steampunk-raven]

“why do i keep getting nosebleeds” - person who has been unable to consume liquid all day (and quite a bit of the weeks before)

[theolddarkmachine]

Dead Space - Baby, I Ain't Holding Your Hand

It starts the day the hero falls. Crashing in a blaze of glory of twisted metal and burning ozone, he leaves a scar on the Earth that changes everything.

And Keith sees it all.

Chapter 6 of 11

Tags: attempted Horror Elements, Zombies, Violence and Gore, Eventual Smut, Happy Ending i swear

Also on AO3

A/N: Apologies for going a little MIA. I moved this month and it ended up taking so much more time and effort than originally planned lol Hopefully some elements of this chapter make up for that a bit lol

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Two weeks had passed since they’d landed themselves in New Altea, and the newly stagnant life was working its way beneath Keith’s skin in a way that constantly set his teeth on edge. While he could admit that there was a certain level of ease that came with having a place to rest their heads at night, it was met in equal measure by the constant thrum to get out and move.

Experience had taught him that nothing good came of staying in one spot, and especially not when it meant being trapped in a constant Garrison reunion by concrete and steel.

“Good morning, buddy,” Lance’s voice is loud and cheery as if he could hear Keith’s innermost thoughts as he helped himself to the seat beside him. A loud clatter punctuates his arrival as he drops his chipped plate on the table, accidentally knocking some of its oatmeal onto the metallic surface.

“Aw, man,” Lance whines, scooping up the lifeless tan food with a finger and shoving it into his mouth, causing Keith to blanche.

“Do you really have to subject me to your face this early?” He growls, dipping behind the lip of his mug and swallowing down a large gulp of black coffee. Stray grounds scrape across his tongue like sand as he forces the bitter liquid down his throat.

Lance makes a small humming sound as he shoves a spoonful of the sludgy oatmeal into his gaping maw.

“I know, I’m a real saint for letting you start the day with something so beautiful,” he says, words muffled by the dull metal between his teeth.

“Patron Saint of Pains in the Ass,” Keith says drily into his mug, the steam blowing back into his face before he sets the mug back down with a dull tap. Pulling the spoon from his mouth, Lance smiles and points it toward him.

“Thank you for using my full title,” he says, grin tilting further upward as Keith rolls his eyes before he turned his attention back to his food. Quiet fills the space between them as Lance hums quietly to himself between bites of the lumpy oats.

Taking another sip of his coffee, Keith traces the dark marks that scatter the top of the table.

“So,” Lance speaks up minutes later, lips smacking as he drops his spoon with a clatter. “Where’s Shiro at?”

A sharp pang rolls through Keith at the question as his hold tightens on his mug. When he’d woken that morning, it had been to Shiro’s still sleeping form violently tossing and muttering under his breath. It had taken several minutes to wake him, and even after he had, a darkness had still clung to his eyes leaving him looking almost lifeless. Fear had gripped him until Shiro had seemed to resurface, offering him a small smile of reassurance before ushering Keith on ahead of him.

“He decided to sleep in a bit longer,” Keith finally says with a noncommittal shrug as he slowly uncurls his tight fist from the mug. He doesn’t miss the quick, sharp arch of Lance’s brow, the silent question almost screaming in the quiet wrapped around their table.

“What?” He hisses, voice filled with challenge as his gaze snaps up to his companion. Lifting hid shoulders with a quick shrug, Lance places a finger on his plate and slowly turns it, keeping his eyes down as he speaks.

“Nothing, just thinking about how much it must take out of a guy to be stuck in space like that is all.”

Growling lowly, Keith snatches his mug and takes a sip, gaze still sharp and severe on Lance as he doesn’t answer. Settling his forearms on the table, Lance leans in, holding his stare as he sighs.

“So, as much as I’m really loving this cold shoulder thing you’re trying to pull off right now, I actually did have something I wanted to ask you,” he says, voice dipping low and serious in a way that catches Keith’s attention. Lowering his mug once more, he gives him a short nod to continue.

“We’re running low on some supplies, and Allura wanted me to get a group together to do a run,” Lance continues, pausing just long enough to see if Keith will interject. “Figured you’re probably going a bit crazy being cooped up in here. Wanna come with?”

The unbearable itch to be on the move seems to prickle through his veins as he pushes himself further up in his seat. Finding himself mirroring Lance’s posture as he leans forward, he mulls over the invitation.

“Yeah, alright,” Keith finally says with a small nod, “count me in.”

A self satisfied smile etches itself across Lance’s face as he sits back, crossing his arm across his chest and nods. Sitting across from him, Keith can’t help but notice the scars that decorate his forearms.

“Knew you’d be in. We leave at dawn,” he says matter-of-factly. Grabbing for his now empty plate, Lance pushes his seat back, going to stand.

“And Shiro?” Keith asks as he goes to kick the chair back under the table. A quick flicker goes across Lance’s face as it falters before he settles it back into that easy smile of his.

“I think Pidge had wanted him for some work tomorrow, actually,” Lance supplies flatly, void of any emotion in the same way as a doctor giving a diagnosis. He doesn’t say anything about the obvious fact that the colony has been keeping a close eye on Shiro since their arrival, but it’s all too clear in his voice.

Each day, Pidge summoned him for some sort of blood draw, yet they still didn’t know anything about what she was really doing.  

They may have had some semblance of freedom, but they both knew that Shiro, at least, was a prisoner shackled by his usefulness.

Slowly, Keith nods.

“Anything you need me to bring?” He asks, leveling his voice to match Lance’s.

“Just you and that angry face of yours.”

Mouth turning sharply down at the response, earning himself a bout of high laughter as Lance gives him a quick wink.

“Yeah, that one,” he says as he turns on his heel, walking away and missing the way Keith flips him off.

Sighing loudly as quiet settles around the now empty table, Keith drums his fingers on the table’s top, chewing on his thoughts like a hungry dog with a bone. Minutes pass before he grabs for his mug, tossing back the last of his coffee before standing to go find Shiro.

***

Keith finds him in the makeshift gym in the basement, surrounded by concrete and old, worn equipment. The solid sound of leather clad fists against plastic punctuates the otherwise silent space as Keith stands just inside the doorway. Eyes carving pathways along the solid lines of Shiro’s shoulders, he takes in the way the long sleeved shirt clings to his frame like a second skin.

While still not quite as well muscled as he had been, the time at the colony had helped to fill him out a bit more, leaving him looking a little less like a shadow of his former self.

Keith’s own hands balled at his sides as they ached with the need to touch.

Swallowing down the a soft sound, he moves across the untouched concrete flooring, steps silent until he was just at Shiro’s back.

“On your left,” he whispers, biting back a smirk as he watches goosebumps dot the skin across Shiro’s neck. Turning lightning quick over his shoulder, fist throwing toward him, Keith catches it easily with a hum. There was no real force behind it, nothing more than a challenging tease, and it makes Keith’s lips quirk higher into a full smile.

“Been awhile since we got to spar,” he says, voice bursting with its own challenge before he presses his lips to the back of Shiro’s captured hand.  Flicking his gaze up, he peers at Shiro through his lashes, eyes glittering with overhead lights as he says, “wanna go?”

Shiro holds his stare, firm and unyielding in a way that Keith feels at the pit of his stomach before an easy smile draws itself across Shiro’s mouth.

“I guess I wouldn’t mind reminding you of my skills,” he chuckles as he carefully pulls his hand from Keith’s grasp, instead settling it on his hip. “What are you going to give me when I pin you?”

Taking a step forward, Keith feels the near overbearing heat that rolls off Shiro’s skin. This close, he can smell the near clinical smell of the soap the colony had managed to salvage as it mixes with the heady musk that is inherently Shiro’s. Breathing him in, Keith drags his teeth across the full of his bottom lip as he hums in faux thought.

“I was thinking,” he starts as he traces a finger across Shiro’s chest, right over his heart, “that pinning me would be reward enough.”

Looking up at him, Keith sees something spark brightly in his dark eyes as he takes a short step back, falling into stance.

There’s an aching, heavy moment that hangs over the both of them as they watch each other before Shiro tilts his chin quickly towards Keith.

Your move, the look says.

Keith licks a line across his lip before dropping down into his own stance, not giving Shiro any pause before moving forward with a quick, testing jab. Dodging it easily, Shiro takes two quick steps back, eyes never leaving Keith’s lithe form as he mirrors the move to keep himself just out of reach.

With the thick heat building itself into a lightning storm between them, they eye each other, watching closely before both moving at once. Excitement colors Keith’s cheeks an alluring shade of pink as he loses himself to the ebb and flow of their movements. He can’t remember the last time they were able to push each other like this.

He’s sure it was before Shiro even left on that mission that had changed them both, but that had been a lifetime ago.

Lightly bouncing on the balls of his feet as his thoughts spin through his mind, Keith’s gaze finds his opening. It’s nothing more than a split second of hesitation as Shiro shifts his foot to go on the offense instead of the defense, but Keith knows he has him.

Sweeping his foot out, he grabs for the center of Shiro’s shirt, fisting the material in his hand as he uses the opposing forces to tackle him to the ground. Keith lands with his legs straddling Shiro’s chest, his knees pinning his arms to the ground as he draws his hands up to entwine their fingers. Looking up at him, Shiro’s eyes are dark, the usual bright silver swallowed by his pupils as he watched Keith lean in close.

“So,” he says lowly, “what’s my reward?”

Shiro’s answering smile is knifelike as he presses up to close the distance between them. Catching his lips, Keith burns with the sudden contact, pressing down to bring their chests flush together. The sharp sting of teeth pulls a low moan from his throat as he tightens his grasp on Shiro’s wrists. Chasing the sound, Shiro continues to press forward, filling Keith’s head with a thrilling heat.

“Shiro,” he gasps, the name sugar sweet on his tongue as he rolls his hips, chasing the friction that is all too much and not enough. The move earns his a soft chuckle as Shiro pulls away, dropping his head back against the mat with a soft thump as he peers up at him through his lashes.

It’s a wicked look that Keith feels down to his bones.

“Best two out of three?” Shiro asks, voice a molten pool that he’s all too ready to drown in. Swallowing down the ache at the base of his throat, Keith pushes himself up before offering a hand to Shiro.

Ignoring the way Shiro’s touch fills his veins with fire as he takes his hand, Keith pulls him to his feet before taking several steps back and falling into a stance.

“Best two out of three,” he confirms as he brings his fists up in front of him.

It’s Shiro who moves first this time, taking several small, quick steps forward as he aims two blows toward Keith. Knocking them both aside easily, he turns over his shoulder, grabbing for Shiro’s closest wrist. Using his momentum, he pushes Shiro away from him before landing back in the same stance.

“Things are looking good for me if that’s the best you’ve got,” Keith laughs, bouncing slightly as he watches Shiro’s back. There’s a long pause, as if he’s gathering himself before he tilts his head to the side, a sickening crack popping through the air.

When he turns around, Shiro’s eyes are dark in a way that is all together different from earlier. Pitch black and roiling, his stare is filled with malice as he lets out a low, rumbling growl before launching himself toward Keith. Taken aback, Keith finds himself knocked back, his breath leaving him quickly as his back meets the mat.

A thrill rips through him, raising the hair on his arms as the quiet of the gym is disrupted by the sharp snap of Shiro’s teeth just barely missing his throat.

“Shiro!” Keith barks, using his forearm to push back against his throat.

Almost as if a switch was flipped, Shiro falls back onto his haunches, eyes going wide as he looks down at Keith.

“Keith, I,” he starts, cheeks going bright with the pink flush that marks his skin as his chest heaves for breath. Keith’s own breathing mirrors Shiro’s as he continues to stare up at him, unable to shake the savage look that had turned the man before him into something dangerous.

Something a lot like the monsters outside.

Opening his mouth to say something in response, the loud sound of someone clearing their throat shatters the moment.

Turning toward the intruder, Keith sees Hunk in the doorway, questioning gaze set on the both of them before he speaks.

“Pidge is looking for you, Shiro.”

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