A/N: This is a series of one-shots written for Sheith New Year week on tumblr. Most of these are post-season 8, but are not epilogue compliant. Most are fluffy, but there's a bit of angst in there too, with warnings for mentions of past child abuse.

Day 1 - New Year
Keith and Shiro share a quiet moment.

"Hey." It was a soft voice that called out to Shiro, lounging comfortably back, trying to draw him gently from a doze. Shiro blinked blearily as he lifted his head slightly, struggling to comprehend that splotch of black hair and pale skin in front of him. The image slowly grew a little firmer around the edges, Keith's soft smile coming into focus.

"Keith," he breathed out, voice raspy from sleep. Shiro tried and failed to hold back the jaw-splitting yawn as he slowly shoved himself up on one elbow. He was sprawled out on the couch in one of the smaller lounges of the Atlas, Keith sitting at the opposite end, perched easily on the arm of couch.

Sleep. The couch. Realization jolted through him and Shiro pushed himself upright, eyes darting to the holo screen that gently lit up the opposite wall, the audio muted. It was a feed from Earth, the ruins of New York City's Times Square lit up and festive, bedecked with streamers, confetti fluttering down through the air, people huddled together, cheering and drinking and dancing. The camera focused in on a group of four on a stage, dancing animatedly to a beat they couldn't hear. Despite the invasion, the war, the near destruction of the entire planet, the streets thrived, ready to put the horrors of the past few years behind them.

"You've got an hour." Keith's reminder - the glowing digits in the corner of the screen confirming that fact - calmed the Captain. He let out a breath, tension easing from his limbs as he slumped back on the couch, smile tired even as he absently draped his hover arm over the back of the couch. It was a strange sensation without the pull of muscle on his shoulder.

"Does this mean you're ditching the party?" Keith asked even as he took the unspoken invitation, sliding from the arm of the couch to sit properly, sinking back and within easy reach of Shiro. It wasn't the most comfortable couch on the Atlas, but he couldn't complain about the company, at least.

"I'll make an appearance," Shiro promised, dragging his flesh and blood hand down his face, the scar stretching down over his nose, as if the man could draw the weariness right out of him. His prosthetic hand waved idly back and forth, ruffling Keith's hair absently. "Eventually."

Keith's leg fidgeted a little, the paladin seated on the very edge of that seat, hands clasped tightly together between his knees. Shiro only sat there, head tipped back, eyes drifting shut again.

It might have been on the cusp of a holiday back on Earth - people quitting work early if they hadn't taken the day entirely, to spend the end of 2071 with friends and family. But out here, working with the Coalition to restore peace and provide aid to a universe that was still fractured even after the end of the war, it had been another long day. Hours of arguing with diplomats that represented a dozen different peoples and civilizations within this sector alone, while the Paladins handled the rumors of former Galra soldiers turned space pirates, that wanted no part in the reformation plans for the Galra Empire.

A long day, and yet human and alien members of the crew alike had come together to celebrate a deck down. A New Year's that Keith would never have thought twice about in the past.

It was a New Year's different from every other in Keith's memory. When was the last time he had even bothered with New Year's. After all, what was so exciting about the passage of time, the turn of one year to another, when your life was empty and cold? Why bother joining the festivities as people eagerly counted down to that final stroke of midnight, when the next year would be just as pointless as the last?

Head bowed, dark hair falling over his eyes, Keith peered at Shiro as weariness washed over the man. Keith felt the same bone-deep exhaustion that pulled him ever towards bed, to sleep the night away and start anew the next morning with another mission on the docket.

And yet sitting here now, watching as Shiro's tired gaze fell on him, a lazy, curious smile on the other man's lips, it wasn't with apathy that Keith was watching the oncoming new year.

Seeing the end of every universe, and saving every universe tended to bring about a new perspective on the value of a year. That heart ache at losing a loved one, ripped away from their lives far too soon. Keith had shed tears for Allura, alone in the quiet of his room where nobody could see. He watched as Lance met every day with too big of a smile, talking just a little too loudly, working hard to convince himself and everyone around him that he was okay. But Keith had glimpsed his right hand man alone in a corridor when he thought nobody was there to watch the somber silence settle over him, as the fake laughter faded away.

There hadn't been enough time.

Marred by loss, the grief of the past year would be one they carried with them forever. But Keith watched the oncoming year with a growing anticipation - a hope that Allura had gifted them all with.

For the first time in a very, very long time, Keith even had a New Year's Resolution in mind - one saved for the very stroke of midnight. He'd never been one to beat around the bush and push something off. Even as his fingers threaded together in agitation, foot tapping anxiously.

Shiro's hover arm slid over just enough to catch Keith's shoulder and tug him in for a one-armed hold, the younger man's face growing red. "Relax." Shiro's voice was calming, even as the man's gaze drifted back towards the holovid. "Just a few more minutes," he managed, half the words swallowed in a yawn. "Then the party, before they come looking for us."

Keith snorted softly, taking Shiro's advice and relaxing. His fingers unthreaded, resting loosely on his lap as he sat back on the couch, no more perched and poised, as if ready to run. His head tipped back against the back of the couch. Shiro's hand never did leave his shoulder. As the tension flowed from him, exhaustion swept in to take its place, eyelids drooping.

Shiro grunted softly, shifting his head up and off of his arm that he'd tucked it up against. Eyelids refused to open for a moment, the man fighting that grimy, sticky feeling as he wrinkled his nose. His hip slid down slightly, back curved a touch and he wasn't sure when he'd slumped down on the couch, legs sprawled out over the floor. Somehow Keith had ended up tucked in next to him, legs drawn up, head drooping against Shiro's shoulder; the glowing one, with the hard metal edges and the recessed surface. It couldn't have been comfortable.

The man's eyes drifted lazily towards the tv where silent images of people jumping together, hugging, dancing on the streets as fireworks filled the dark skies up above. A simple and pure joy at their tiny planet still existing in this vast cosmos. At having made it another year. To still-

Oh. 12:43 AM. The numbers blinked tauntingly in the bottom corner of the screen.

From somewhere down below, muffled through the layers upon layers of metal, he thought he could hear rowdy singing.

Shiro groaned quietly as he slumped back, eyes sliding shut again. Next to him, practically on top of him, Keith was stirring.

"Wha-? Did we...?" His voice, rough with sleep, trailed off, Keith undoubtedly coming to the same realization Shiro had. 2071 had passed, and they were now 43...44 minutes into 2072. There was shifting against him, Shiro grunting as an elbow landed in his side, followed by a muffled 'sorry'.

"Didn't mean to fall asleep," Keith uttered from next to him, sluggishly pushing himself up. Shiro took the opportunity to slide his legs up onto the couch, unabashedly taking over the entire thing, squeezing them in behind Keith.

"Keith, go back to sleep," he murmured sleepily, already rolling onto his side, pressing his nose into his arm.

"But I wanted-"

Shiro's arm drifted over, tugging on Keith's shoulder, drawing him back as the young man hovered on the edge of the couch again, still half asleep.

"I know."

"Wanted to tell you that I-"

Shiro's arm crushed the younger man to his chest, nose pressing into dark hair. "I know," he mumbled out again. Keith's breath evened out, eyes drifting shut. "Love you too."

Keith's smile was quiet, his own face pressing into the warm arm that slipped out to cradle him close. "I love you," he whispered back, slipping back towards sleep.

"Now sleep," Shiro said again, already drifting off himself. "Figure out the rest in the morning."

They had the entire year ahead.