The bar wasn't crowded nor was it well-lit, but Keith found that the atmosphere calmed his nerves. He let Shiro lead him to a table in the back, hidden from view with its high wooden backs and cocooned enough to block out some of the noise from the jukebox. Sliding into one side of the booth, Keith instantly missed the feeling of Shiro's hand in his own. Trying to tamper his desire to pout, Keith reached for the menu on the table and let his fingers linger for a moment when Shiro's connected with the lamented paper at the same time. Blushing, Keith let his fingertips brush over Shiro's knuckles, dropping his hand to the table to rest at the top corner of the menu. His bit his bottom lip to contain his smile when Shiro's hand covered his own.

"So, uh, what's good here?" Keith continued to look at the menu. If he took a second to look at Shiro again, he knew he wouldn't be able to stop and he didn't want to frustrate their waitress by being indecisive upon her arrival at the table.

Shiro hummed in response, not paying attention to the question, his eyes trained on the way his hand could still entirely cover Keith's smaller hand. Before their walk to the bar, they hadn't held hands since they were children, climbing rocks and helping each other up the steeper slopes, but Shiro had a deep visceral memory of the feeling of Keith's hand in his. It felt like a dream that they were here, sitting across from each other without a time limit or someone to police their actions and Shiro wanted to simply exist in this bubble, holding Keith's hand securely in his own. The sound of Keith speaking again made Shiro look up, blushing when Keith smirked at his blank stare.

"Big guy," Keith took a chance on the old nickname, brain going off like fireworks at the way Shiro's face lit up. "I asked what's good here." Unable to help himself, Keith shifted his leg under the table to press it firmly against Shiro's own. He had exactly zero idea what he was doing, but the way the blush spread like wildfire over Shiro's face told him that the contact wasn't unwelcome.

"I mean, burgers," Shiro tried to put a coherent thought together, his mind solely focused on the feeling of all the places where his body was connected with Keith's. Telling himself to calm down, Shiro reached forward to point at the menu. "Pretty much any burger in this column and any of the house beers. You can't lose with those." Proud of himself for all the words he had accomplished, Shiro sat back against his seat and scanned his menu with a triumphant smile.

All of his cockiness evaporated when the waitress arrived and Keith twisted to face her while ordering, his knee sliding up the inside of Shiro's thigh and resting just shy of the apex of Shiro's legs. His mind became nothing but clanking sounds and explicit thoughts as he deafly stared down at his own menu. Keith's leg bounced slightly in its place against Shiro's thigh, and Shiro was positive that the circuit breaker had tripped in his brain. He ordered, completely unaware of what he had chosen, all of his thoughts funneled directly to where Keith's leg was still moving nervously against his own.

Butterflies danced in Keith's stomach as he listened to Shiro stutter his way through his order, experimentally jostling his knee to watch Shiro's reaction. His own body was tingling from the touch of Shiro's flexing leg muscles and his heart was beating double-time at the way Shiro seemed to be reacting to Keith's intentional flirtations. Although he felt his own hesitations whirling in his stomach, Keith shifted his other foot forward, letting his leg brush against Shiro's ankle.

"So, um," Shiro was desperately trying to pull his thoughts away from the fact that their legs with tangled together under the table where no one else could see. "What have you been up to? High school?" He was grateful when the waitress returned with their drinks, setting the perfectly poured beers down in front of each of them. Reaching his free hand forward, Shiro grabbed his own glass, drinking quickly.

"Survived that," Keith scoffed, taking a sip of his own beer and nodding his approval of the taste. The last time he had drank with Shiro neither of them were technically of legal age to do so and he smiled at the memory of Matt's mom scolding all of them when she discovered them giggling in a drunken heap in the Holts' basement.

"College?" Running his fingertips over Keith's knuckles, Shiro dragged his eyes away from their joined hands to look at Keith when no immediate answer came. He raised an eyebrow at Keith's furrowed brow.

"You'll probably be disappointed," Keith remarked, running a finger around the rim of his glass. "I didn't go to some big university. I got a degree in English online, from the comfort of my dad's old place. Easier to do while also plotting out the greatest novel series of all time." The last part of his sentence came with a bitter undertone and Keith couldn't place exactly why. Shoving away his normal habit of overanalyzing his own thoughts, Keith looked up to shrug at Shiro.

"Why would I be disappointed?" Shiro didn't like the way Keith was speaking of his accomplishments and felt a familiar flare of his old need to defend Keith. Sometimes Shiro had defended Keith against the world, but mostly Shiro had grown up defending Keith against himself. "Keith, seriously, you have accomplished something that most people couldn't imagine doing. I wouldn't be disappointed if you hadn't gone to college at all."

With a wary look, Keith studied Shiro and deemed his words to be backed with open honesty. Keith immediately felt better about his own decisions, as if knowing that Shiro wasn't upset with them somehow made each decision more valid.

It was a ghost of a feeling, one that he could remember blooming when he was six-years-old and jumping over a line of trash cans only to end up sprawled across the pavement staring at the sky. Shiro had bandaged all of his bleeding cuts, reassuring Keith that he would have taken the dare as well and excitedly talking about how close Keith had been to pulling it off. The memory made Keith smile softly into the lip of his glass, pouring a deep drink of beer down his throat to mask the reason for his silence.

Placing the glass back on the table, Keith gave Shiro's hand a quick squeeze with his thumb. "How about you? Did you take the collegiate world by storm?" He noticed the pained flinch in Shiro's face, but decided not to comment on it. Just as he decided not to comment on the scar across Shiro's nose that made him even more beautifully badass looking or the metal arm which Shiro seemed determined to keep hidden under the table. Part of it was selfishness, his heart unsure it could handle the details of whatever brought about the changes in Shiro's body but the biggest part was selfless. Keith had never made Shiro talk when he didn't want to, and if Shiro wasn't going to offer the details for his body alterations, Keith would never push him for them.

Taking a slow sip of his beer, Shiro contemplated the best way to answer. He never lied to Keith about anything, except the lie by omission regarding his own feelings toward his best friend. Deciding that their future should be based on the same raw honesty as most of their past, Shiro shrugged. "Four years, top of my class, walked out with a good job which I am still doing as of… well… today," Shiro chuckled, finger trailing through the condensation running down the side of his glass. "Basically the standard life you would expect, I guess." He wasn't sure why he suddenly felt so melancholy about his own life and he decided that scrutinizing that thought should wait for another time.

"It sounds comforting to me," Keith watched Shiro trace the water droplets with his index finger. "Better than being a hermit in a shack in the desert." He smiled when Shiro huffed a laugh. "Hey, you know I never liked people very much." Keith winked when Shiro looked at him, both of them laughing at the truth in Keith's words. If it hadn't been for Shiro's ruthless determination that Keith make friends, he wouldn't have even contemplated saying two words to Matt or Pidge.

They were interrupted by the appearance of two giant burgers, stacked high on faded white plates with mounds of fries spilling around them. With wide eyes, Keith thanked their waitress and leaned across the table to whisper, "I'm going to eat all of this," before stealing a fry from Shiro's plate and popping it in his mouth.

A sense of déjà vu hit Shiro, the nostalgia flooding into his heart. This could have easily been any Friday night from their last year in high school together, both of them foregoing the social expectations of parties or school dances to sprawl in the crusty booths of their town's only twenty-four hour diner. Keith had always stolen French fries and Shiro had always used mustard as dipping sauce. When Keith extended the bottle of mustard in Shiro's direction, his heart fluttered hard in his chest.

In an effort to distract himself, Shiro squirted a mound of yellow onto his plate and quirked a playful eyebrow in Keith's direction. "So tell me…" he tried to act casual, swirling a fry in his mustard and fluttering his eyelashes, "are you actually going to kill us?" He burst out laughing when Keith threw a pickle at him, catching it in his prosthetic hand and shoving it in his mouth. Shiro let the question go unanswered, settling into his burger and the conversation which finally began to flow more comfortably.

Under the table, their legs remained touching at the ankles, neither of them acknowledging their unwillingness to stop their hidden connection to each other.

Keith's sides ached from laughing, the tears streaming down his face were the products of humor and Shiro's ridiculous story about Matt and the unfortunate burning of all his pubic hair. All of Shiro's college stories seemed to revolve around stupid decisions made by himself or Matt, and Keith could feel a pang of jealousy weaving into every ounce of amusement he felt.

"I'm telling you, he couldn't sit down for DAYS," Shiro was gasping for breath, his laughter making it hard to get the rest of the story out. "He had this plastic donut he had to sit on which was apparently actually for people with hemorrhoids." Consumed by his own hilarity, Shiro banged his fist on the table and let himself collapse forward with laughter. Between his stories about all the dumb things college students do while unsupervised and Keith's stories about awkward fan moments, they had been laughing for nearly an hour. Shiro couldn't remember the last time he had laughed so hard and definitely knew that he hadn't laughed for this long with anyone but Keith.

"If I see him again before I leave, I am definitely going to have to find a way to bring it up." Keith trailed off at the end of his comment, his brain screaming at him about what he was accidentally implying. Nervous, his laughter died away, as he fiddled with his own fingers.

"Oh, if you think the Holts are going to let you get away with not coming to dinner, you are out of your mind." Shiro observed Keith's anxious fidgeting. Their plates had been cleared nearly two hours ago and the neat line of beer glasses had gained several friends in that time. Snaking his hand across the table, Shiro leaned forward to lace their fingers back together. "How long are you staying?" He couldn't bring himself to ask when Keith was leaving, but he wanted to know how long he got to keep him.

If Shiro had his way, Keith's book tour would end immediately with Keith offering to move into Shiro's house and stay forever. His lovesick brain was aware that this was a development that was out of the realm of possibility, even if he had let himself play out the fantasy an embarrassing amount of times.

"Plane flies out on Monday," Keith looked at their fingers, playing with Shiro's as he talked. "I wish…" He didn't know how to tell Shiro that Keith wished he didn't have to leave.

"You should come to Sunday dinner," Shiro jumped in his seat, metal elbow cracking hard against the table in his enthusiasm. "Ms. Colleen will make you come as soon as Matt tells her you're here, and it will be another reason to see each other." Leaning further over the table, Shiro tugged at the wrist of Keith's shirt. "Please?" He wasn't too proud to beg for another night with Keith by his side.

"If you think it would be okay," Keith peered at Shiro's eager face and felt his reluctance whisk away. "I would love to." His chest felt tight with how happy Shiro looked. "I don't know what your schedule is like or… whatever… but… you could come Saturday to the thing. Or you could come tomorrow night… to the world's worst tradition… or both if you know… you would want to." Telling Shiro that Coran and Allura had created a karaoke tradition for the night before every big event was probably not the best way to get him to agree to join them, so Keith kept that detail to himself. Biting his lip, he looked at Shiro with hopeful eyes.

"Anywhere you want me, I'll be," Shiro offered, blushing at his own eagerness and grinning at the happiness radiating from Keith's expression. Caught off guard by the openness, and the familiar pang of longing deep in his gut, Shiro found himself just staring into Keith's eyes with a goofy grin.

In their silence, he caught the opening notes to a familiar song. Sliding to the edge of his booth seat, Shiro stood and extended his hand toward Keith. "Want to dance?" He hoped Keith couldn't see the nervous quack of his fingers or hear the quiver in his voice. Holding his gaze steady, Shiro felt himself shiver when Keith's eyes trailed up from his open palm to smile directly at him.

"Anywhere you want me, I'll be," Keith mocked back at him, swallowing hard when Shiro blushed for what had to have been the hundredth time since they reunited. Keith never recalled Shiro being the bashful type and he couldn't help feeling even more attracted to him because of it. Resting his hand in Shiro's offered one, Keith could feel the nerves building inside of him. Letting himself be pulled onto the small dance floor, Keith tried to focus on breathing as Shiro wrapped him into his arms.

The buttons of Keith's shirt pressed against Shiro's belly as he settled his hand on Keith's lower back. Daring to spread his fingers, Shiro let his pinky skirt the upward curve of Keith's ass, pressing Keith's hips closer to his own. Curling their hands together, Shiro brought them to rest against his sternum, making sure Keith could feel how quickly his heart was beating.

Running his fingertips delicately up Shiro's arm, Keith let them rest at the back of Shiro's neck. There, he pressed soft strokes into Shiro's hair line, letting his fingers glide over the soft hairs on the back of Shiro's neck. He sighed when Shiro leaned forward, their foreheads pressing together as they worked themselves in small circles on the dance floor. "I don't know if this counts as dancing," Keith remarked, his eyes closing as he lost the ability to concentrate on anything other than the feeling of Shiro's body moving in perfect rhythm with his own.

"Don't care," Shiro replied, smiling when Keith's laughter breezed across Shiro's lips. They were so close and Shiro could feel the way Keith was melting into him, making Shiro feel lightheaded with the way they fit together. Keith's hand on the back of his neck was firm and reassuring, even as it drove Shiro slowly out of his mind.

It would be a mistake, Keith thought, to kiss Shiro in the middle of a public place. Allura had made multiple references to the amount of attention they had already received, and Keith knew there was a high chance that someone could be recognizing them right now. Nothing in him could find the desire to care, and Keith pulled back to move his hand to Shiro's cheek. Caressing the smooth skin over Shiro's jaw, Keith waited anxiously for Shiro to meet his eyes.

This is it, Shiro thought. This is the moment when I can tell him everything I have felt for him and still feel for him. This is when I should kiss him. Shiro's hand released Keith's where they were tucked between their chests, and he moved to let his fingers trail into Keith's hair. Keith's tongue darted out to lick his lips, and Shiro went momentarily dumbstruck with his eyes trained on Keith's moistened lips. Talk first, then kiss, Shiro scolded himself, trailing his hand from Keith's hair to his cheek, their hips continuing to move together as their makeshift dance continued. Telling himself to be brave, Shiro ran his thumb over Keith's bottom lip.

"Keith, I-"

"Excuse me, are you K. Kogane?"

Shiro suppressed his groan as Keith pulled away from him, dropping his hands from their respective places on Shiro's body to turn his attention to the young woman standing expectantly at their sides. Shiro wasn't in the habit of strangling strangers, but the urge to do so had him shoving his hands in his pockets.

Cursing Allura for imprinting the "always be nice to fans" mantra on his brain, Keith let his hands drop from Shiro's body to respond to the eager woman addressing him with slightly slurred speech. "Hi, yes, did you want an autograph?" He was proud that he managed to keep the sarcastic bite out of his question, and vowed to make Allura buy him a giant stack of pancakes as a reward.

"Actually, I was wondering if I could get a picture with you," shooting an arm out, she grabbed Shiro's wrist when he tried to move away. "Oh you too! I mean, since you guys are like the real Keith and Takashi, right?" Holding her phone up in selfie mode, she turned her back on them and flashed a peace sign. Not knowing what to do, Shiro followed Keith's lead, leaning over the woman's shoulder and smiling bewilderedly into her phone. "Oh my god, you two are the cutest! Thanks so much!" Pressing alcohol-sloppy kisses on both of their cheeks, she ran screaming across the dance floor toward her friends.

"What the hell was that about?" Keith inquired, the question more to himself than to Shiro. He could feel himself getting angry about their almost-kiss and turned on his heel to head back to their table. Their tab had been paid when their last drinks arrived and Keith threw down an extra few bills to compensate for the amount of time they had lingered in the same booth.

Feeling Shiro come up behind him, Keith stiffened. It wasn't that he didn't want Shiro to touch him, he just felt increasingly weird knowing that people were watching and somehow knew who Shiro was as well. Allura's voice again trickled into his mind and he shuddered with the idea that she had been right.

"Let's get out of here," Keith suggested, grabbing Shiro's hand roughly and pulling him toward the front exit of the bar. He didn't look at Shiro's face, and his mind wondered if Shiro was as disappointed as he was.

The chill of Boston's early spring air hit his skin and cooled the burning fire on his cheeks as Shiro followed Keith from the bar. Shiro would have given anything to rewind their night by ten minutes, giving himself the foresight to stiff arm that moron woman to the ground before she could interrupt their moment. All he wanted to do was tell Keith he loves him and possibly kiss Keith until there was no question that the words were true. Neither of those things seemed like a possibility now, both of them looking a little lost and disappointed standing in the middle of the sidewalk.

"So, will you come tomorrow night?" Keith couldn't help the small hitch in his breath when he realized there was a potentially crude interpretation of his question. "I mean out with me and the troubled squad." He liked the sound of Shiro's chuckle in response to his nickname for Coran and Allura.

"Definitely," Shiro nodded, pulling his phone from his pocket. "Do you want to exchange numbers so we can check in about details tomorrow? I have to work until four, but after that I am free." In his hand, his phone dinged and he blinked down at his screen.

"I've had the same number since I got my phone at sixteen," Keith dropped his phone back in his pocket, refusing to look at Shiro's face. "I… well… I guess I never deleted your number. Just in case… or something."

Lifting his phone, Shiro turned the screen to face Keith, revealing his own lie. The contact wasn't blank like it should have been for an unsaved number, instead it was a single red heart on each side of the word "Kogane." "I… didn't get rid of yours either… I didn't want to seem weird though…"

"This is the point at which Matt would be screaming about how we are both idiots," Keith joked, trying to will away the thudding of his heart. Not only did Shiro still have his number, but his name was surrounded with hearts. Keith's brain couldn't even begin to calculate what that could mean, and he found himself awkwardly shuffling his feet.

"Matt has been calling me an idiot for five years," Shiro admitted, watching to see if Keith would react with understanding. When he got nothing but a blush from Keith in return, Shiro reached forward to pull Keith into a hug.

They lingered in each other's embraces, pausing as they pulled away and both of them considering moving in for something more. In the end, they stepped away from each other, each of them once again turning to head in separate directions.

When Keith stepped into his hotel room, his head buzzing with the details of the night and his heart aching from another set of missed opportunities, he nearly jumped when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Retrieving it, Keith unlocked the screen to reveal a text from Shiro. Smiling into his phone, Keith toed off his shoes, sending off a response and praying that Shiro would text him until they both fell asleep.

In the sanctuary of his own bedroom, Shiro flopped on his bed, giddy from Keith's rapid response. His alarm was due to go off in less than five hours and he planned to spend every minute until Keith slept texting him.

Separated by distance and their own stupidity, Keith and Shiro exchanged messages until they fell asleep in their individual beds, both of their phones lost in the folds of their blankets and their minds lost to dreams of each other.