Keith woke slowly, comfortably, with a warm body pressed against him. An arm snug around his waist kept him close. Slow, even exhales ghosted over his neck, deep breaths bordering a light snore. Fast asleep, Shiro looked so serene.

Keith shifted a bit, but Shiro didn't stir. He shifted a little more; still no response. Eyes flitting to the corner of the room, he caught a glimpse of their ever present chaperone. He had a role to play, right? So he could justify it when he brought his hand to Shiro's face and ran his fingers down his jaw, touch feather light.

He let the back of his hand graze the curve of his cheekbone, and for just a moment, he let himself pretend this wasn't all a big lie. For just a moment, this was his.

"I love you," he mouthed, not daring to let air past his lips. The syllables were foreign to his teeth, his tongue, but they felt right when it was Shiro on the other end. The words rolled over his tongue again as he brushed pale bangs aside and out of dark lashes. I love you.

He lingered in quiet reverie a few moments more before disentangling himself to greet the day.

Or evening, more like.

"It is near time for dinner at the palace," Visran said. "Your partner will not wake until the morning. There are laboratory technicians in the building at all times. They will keep an eye on your partner until we return."

The idea of leaving Shiro alone here—in this dimly lit lab facility—left a sour taste in Keith's mouth. "I don't want to leave him."

"Understandable," Visran said. "I can arrange for provisions to be brought here. You may stay with him in this facility overnight, if you wish."

"Yeah. I do wish," Keith said.

"Very well."

Keith laid back down next to Shiro. His eyes traced the curves and creases of his face, strong yet graced with delicate features. I can't even eat dinner without you. How am I gonna go back to being on my own when this is all over?

The ensuing vargas passed slowly.

Along with food, Visran brought Keith his holo pad, which he used to look over a pile of low priority reports. It was boring work, though, and soon, he found himself dozing. He napped, woke, worked, and napped again.

The night was almost through when Keith woke to metal smashing into his skull.

CRACK.

Pain exploded behind his eyes. Stars danced in his vision when he opened them; everything was hazy. His ears rang. He couldn't focus. What—

He raised his arms just in time to shield his face from swinging metal. Though softened by his forearms, the force still slammed into his damaged skull. He gagged.

The mattress creaked and shifted with jerky, erratic movements from beside him. "Shiro," Keith gasped. He was caught in the throes of a nightmare. "Shiro!"

Keith looked to the corner of the room. His eyes wouldn't focus, but it didn't seem like Visran was there. They were alone.

Shiro's arm slammed into Keith's ribs, shattering them with a crunch.

"Sh-Shiro," Keith choked out.

He grabbed Shiro's forearm and hugged it against his chest in an attempt to stop him from thrashing further.

It was a mistake.

Blinding pain raked across Keith's torso as Shiro's arm twisted and activated, searing skin and tissue as it pulled out of his grasp. Keith couldn't help but cry out. The scent of burnt flesh filled the air.

Shiro's eyes flew open. "Keith?"

Keith's vision focused just enough to see the blood drain from Shiro's face.

"I-it's okay," Keith gasped. "Not… not your fault."

"Keith, I— I…"

"It's okay," Keith repeated. He did his best to give Shiro a smile before everything went black.

…

When Keith woke again, it was to gravity's pull as he fell forward. A warm hand steadied him, but it withdrew as soon as he was steady on his feet.

"Keith," Shiro said from a couple paces away, his voice choked.

"Hey." Keith stepped forward, but Shiro took a step back, keeping distance between them.

Shiro didn't meet his eyes. "How… how are you feeling?"

Keith brought a hand to his skull, where he'd been hit. His hair was wet and stiff, but there was no pain. He looked down at his chest. Beneath rivulets of sticky pink liquid, the skin was unbroken. There was no burn—not even a scar left behind. He touched his ribs, and those were fine too. "Good as new. Those tank things really work."

"Of course they do," a different, smarmier voice said. Ah. Visran was back.

Visran passed Shiro a towel. Immediately, Shiro thrust it into Keith's hands. Visran eyed Shiro warily—it was Graxari custom to dry your partner after a bath. Shiro made no further move, though, so Keith took the towel and began drying himself, rubbing the towel through his tangle of wet hair.

"How 'bout you?" Keith asked Shiro. "How're you doing?"

"I'm fine," Shiro said, tersely.

Keith let his gaze wander over Shiro. He looked okay—save for the heavy tension gripping every inch of his body.

"I hope you're not blaming yourself for what happened," Keith said.

"I was the one who did that to you. It was my arm, my hand."

"So? It wasn't your fault. If it's anyone's fault, it's—" Keith cut himself off. Maybe blaming the Graxari for putting them in this creepy lab in the first place wasn't the best idea if they wanted to stay on their good side. "I should've moved out of the way."

Shiro scoffed.

"Either way, it's in the past now," Keith said. "Clothes?"

Visran handed Shiro a set of folded garments. Shiro held the pile out for Keith to take.

A deep crease formed in Visran's brow. Even if Keith had been hurt, it was unthinkable that Shiro wouldn't even try to help him get dressed. Keith arched an eyebrow at Shiro, then tossed the towel aside and waited.

Reluctantly, touching Keith as little as possible, Shiro dressed him in new undershorts, loose pants, and a lightweight tunic that clung to his damp skin.

Keith leaned in to kiss his cheek in thanks, but Shiro flinched away. Play the part! Keith wanted to scream. Reigning it in, he asked Visran, "So what's on for today?"

"Tonight is Gladnos Eve," Visran said. "There will be a ball at the palace, preceded by a feast. If you are ready, we will bring you back to the baths, where you can wash up before tonight's festivities."

"Sounds good," Keith said, rubbing the stiff, sticky ends of his hair between his fingertips. "A bath is probably a good idea. And a feast sounds good, I'm starving. You hungry, Shiro?"

"Sure," Shiro said, voice clipped.

Keith sighed and breathed through his nose. Shiro was making it blatantly obvious he'd rather be anywhere but at Keith's side. It made maintaining their act difficult—not to mention it stung.

Shiro maintained his distance as they followed Visran out of the facility and back to the carriage. Shiro tried to make space between them on the seat, but Keith scooted over and grabbed his arm.

"Shiro!" he hissed in his ear. "We're in a relationship, remember? Stop pulling away!"

Shiro stayed put, though his entire body was rigid. Reluctantly, he allowed Keith to pry his left fist open and slot their fingers together.

Shiro remained tense for the duration of the carriage ride. He stayed as far away from Keith as their linked hands would allow as they made their way to the baths.

Thankfully, Visran maintained a respectable distance when they were bathing, and when they finally got in the pool, they were out of hearing range.

"He's suspicious," Keith said without preamble. "I know you don't want to touch me. I get it. But we need this alliance."

"I don't… not want to touch you," Shiro said.

"Could've fooled me."

"Keith…"

Keith pressed the bin of soaps and shampoos into Shiro's hands. "You're not going to hurt me, you know," he said, softly.

"I did."

Keith shook his head. "Not intentionally. Never intentionally."

"I almost killed you," Shiro said, the word catching in his throat.

"It's okay," Keith insisted. "I'm okay. And you're awake now. So stop thinking whatever it is you're thinking right now and start touching me."

Shiro let out a shaky exhale. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Don't apologize." Keith took Shiro's right hand. Carefully, he brought it to his lips and kissed his metal knuckles, cool and smooth against his lips. He nodded subtly in Visran's direction and murmured, "Convince him."

Keith took a seat in the pool, and Shiro followed suit, settling down behind him. With a pump of soap that smelled vaguely of cinnamon, Shiro worked up a lather. Slowly, he brought his hands to Keith's hair. His touch was near imperceptible, cautious as anything.

Keith placed his hands over Shiro's. He pressed down, urging them to rest more firmly against his skull. "I trust you, Shiro. Now trust yourself."

Shiro spread his fingers wider. "I'll try."

As he began to massage Keith's scalp, Keith let out a contented sigh.

"You really like that, huh," Shiro said, with a hint of a smile in his voice.

"Mhmm. Keep going," Keith urged. So Shiro did.

Keith remained calm and relaxed as Shiro washed him, and gradually, Shiro became more comfortable with his hands again. The tension in his grip dissipated. Wariness turned to gentleness.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Keith murmured when they were done.

Shiro pressed a kiss to Keith's temple. "Not so bad," he agreed.

…

Gladnos Eve was, apparently, a big deal on Graxarion. The great hall glimmered, with more surfaces covered in gold than not. Ice sculptures were scattered throughout, interspersed with tiered fountains that spouted an assortment of sparkling drinks. The dining hall opened up to a ballroom, which featured a stage with live musicians. The sounds from their stringed instruments were unusual, but the music was undoubtedly sophisticated.

Graxari guests filled the other tables, done up and dressed to the nines. Not one of them, though, could hold a candle to Shiro.

He was unfairly beautiful, draped in ebony and fine gold. Keith's breath caught every single time his eyes wandered back to him. The light fabric clung to edges and curved planes in all the right places. Strands of gold rested against bare skin, where the neckline of his robe dipped low on his chest.

"A bit much, right?" Shiro said, when he caught Keith staring.

"No!" Keith stammered, averting his gaze. A violent blush crept up to his hairline. "I-I mean— yes. Yes. The clothes. Are a lot. I, uh…"

A smile tugged at Shiro's lips. "It's a little different from what we usually wear. But you look good, Keith."

Keith's mouth hung open. "You… you think?"

"Of course," Shiro said. "Everyone looks great tonight."

"Oh." Keith tried not to look too crestfallen. "Yeah."

"But you especially. White's a good colour on you."

Keith's heart kicked back into high gear. This man was going to be the death of him.

"You look good too," Keith managed.

Six servers arrived at their table with golden trays. They laid out an array of exquisite dishes before them, each artfully plated.

"Wow," Shiro said, taking in the spread. He picked up a delicate lavender square between his fingertips. "Hungry?"

Keith nodded. Yes. So hungry. He opened his mouth and let Shiro feed him.

The meal was bursting with all sorts of unusual flavours and textures. The dishes were delicious, and not just by Graxari standards.

"It's too bad Hunk isn't here," Shiro said. "He'd love this."

"He would," Keith said. He'd love it for all the wrong reasons, too. He inwardly cringed at the thought of Hunk watching as Shiro licked his fingers, and the un-subtle winks and eyebrow waggles he'd toss his way.

"It's kind of nice, though, having some time to ourselves," Shiro said.

"Yeah," Keith murmured. "Just the two of us."

They made their way through the courses, all the way through third dessert. After wiping the crumbs from each other's lips, they looked around, eyeing all the other couples getting up from their seats and making their way over to the dance floor.

"Guess we should head over," Shiro said.

"I don't know how to dance," Keith said.

"Me neither," Shiro shrugged. "We'll just have to make it up as we go."

Shiro looped his arm around Keith's, and they followed the other couples to the ballroom.

"Those must be the Queens," Shiro said, nodding at the two statuesque Graxari under a spotlight at the centre of the open floor. They dazzled in silver and snow white, their hair piled high beneath matching crowns.

"I'm guessing we can't just go up and meet with them now," Keith said, taking note of all the security around them.

"We'll see them soon enough. We just need to get through tomorrow," Shiro said.

One more day, and this would all be over. Keith bit his lip. "Yeah."

The ambient lighting softened and a hush fell over the crowd. Keith and Shiro took up their positions on the dance floor, standing close to emulate the couples around them.

"We just have to blend in. We can do this," Shiro said.

"Right," Keith nodded.

But it was easier said than done, and when the music started, they were quickly left behind.

The couples around them twirled and leapt, each movement choreographed and well rehearsed. "Uh, yeah, no," Keith said. "Can't make that up."

"Agreed," Shiro grimaced.

"This isn't good." The whole point of their act was to fit in with the Graxari, but here they stood out like a sore thumb, unmoving amidst a coordinated sea of dancers.

"No," Shiro said. "But I think we'll be alright. Come on." He tugged on Keith's hand and led him away from the crowd toward the wall. "We should be okay as long as we have an excuse for not dancing."

"Should I pretend to break my leg or something?" Keith asked.

Shiro laughed softly. "Not exactly what I had in mind."

"What are you thinking?"

The playfulness in Shiro's face melted away, leaving something intense in its wake. "I'm thinking it's high time we did this."

Shiro pulled Keith in close, metal palm pressing into the small of his back as his flesh hand worked its way up his spine, one vertebra at a time. His touch was steady and intentional. Patient; focused. His fingers raked through Keith's hair, cradling his skull as he brought him in closer, closer, closer.

Bare inches apart, Shiro paused to capture Keith's gaze. His dark eyes were filled with warmth, brimming with a tenderness that stole away all reason. Long lashes fluttered and fell shut, and with the gentlest of gestures, Shiro closed the space between them.

Keith's world imploded, nervous system set alight. His lungs forgot oxygen; his heart forgot gravity. There was nothing in Keith's universe but Shiro's mouth pressed to his.

It was just an act, it was just an act, but Keith had dreamed of this for so long, and he couldn't help but smile against Shiro's lips. The corners of Shiro's mouth pulled upward, mirroring the motion.

Shiro kissed him, and kissed him again. His mouth was soft, his movements sure. Smooth, like poetry. The kisses built, a steady crescendo: hotter, faster, bolder, more.

Keith let out a needy whine as Shiro's tongue teased his mouth open. Shiro led and Keith followed, matching him move for move. Pushing and pulling, giving and taking, more and more and more and more.

When they finally broke apart, Keith was left panting for air. Shiro kept him in close, breaths hot against his skin.

"Was that your first kiss?" Shiro asked, lowly.

"That bad, huh?"

Shiro laughed. "Not at all. But I'm sorry your first kiss had to be like this."

"I'm not," Keith murmured. His head was still spinning, heart still soaring, and it was a moment before his brain caught up and realized what he'd just admitted. He froze.

"I-I mean, it's just, there's no one else I'd have wanted it to be with," Keith stammered. As if that were any better. "I, um— You're—"

"I know what you mean," Shiro said. His smile was soft, kind. "I'm someone you can practice with, before it counts."

Keith swallowed, hard. "I…"

"I'm glad," Shiro said. "I'm glad you feel you can trust me with that."

"I trust you with everything I have," Keith said. "Always."

"Thank you, Keith," Shiro whispered, and—for the sake of the alliance—kissed him again.