Playing With Fire

by maddoxx

Summary:

Keith is a fireman with the Marmora Fire Department. He couldn't care less about the danger of his line of work.

The world has always been burning. Keith just learned how to burn with it.

Shiro is with the Altea Police Department. He's just about had it with the careless fireman who is notorious for going back into burning buildings long after they've been deemed unsafe for re-entry.

Even with all the darkness in the world, Shiro believed he could carve a path to let the light back in.

They're both playing with the fire in their hearts and their lives.
No one can predict which flames can heal and which will only destroy.

Notes:

Before we begin this journey, I want to preface this fic with a disclaimer. I have no experience with law enforcement, fire departments, medical units/procedures, etc. I don't pretend to be an expert or for this fic to be entirely accurate, and that is not the point of the story in the first place. If there are any glaring flaws, please let me know and I'll try to fix it to the best of my abilities.

I hope you enjoy.

Chapter 1: Preface

Seldom do children go without being warned.

Don’t play with fire.

You’ll get burned.

Warning them is a mother’s job.

Warning them is a father’s job.

Warning them is a grandparent or aunt or distant relative who visits once a year around the holidays.

Warning them is someone. Someone who cares. Who yearns to protect the child from the dangers of the world before the child can even fathom how terrifying the world really is.

But what happens when a child grows up without a family, without a home? Without anybody to protect them, how are they to know the flickering flames and crackling embers will eat away at their flesh until nothing remains? The child learns the pain firsthand when their outstretched fingers, eager and yearning for warmth, get a little too close to the flame. They pull away quickly, eyes wide as their fingers throb in time with their too-fast heartbeat. Then they reach out again, slowly this time. They are transfixed as the flames dance around their fingers. And oh, is it a dance, twisting and turning to a silent, cacophonous rhythm, never quite touching but getting ever-so-close.

You see, when a child grows up with nobody to care for them, nobody teaches them the ways of the world. They have to figure it out all on their own. They know the world is rotten and cruel. They learn they, too, must be rotten and cruel, for even the world abandoned them. They learn not to run away from the flames. They learn how to play with fire with terrifying, fierce precision.

The world is already burning. They simply learn how to burn with it. 

Chapter 2: Breathing In The Flames

Thick, black smoke curled around the splintering wooden baseboards, spilling down from the stairs, step after step. The air was thick with it, making it impossible to discern anything further than a few feet away.

The building was old.

The ceiling groaned.

Keith’s boots were heavy as he walked through the hall, expression grim as he scanned the room from the open doorway. He knew he needed to hurry and finish checking the building. It was well past the point of saving, and it was only a matter of time before it collapsed. From Kolivan’s agitated grumbling through the headset wired into his helmet, Keith surmised he was the last one inside the building — everyone had cleared out long before. The building was supposed to be empty, just a long-abandoned shop with a second story that had been used for storage and inventory.

A couple teens had carelessly flicked a still-smoldering cigarette in the alley. Not even five minutes later the building had gone up in flames.

On the way over, Kolivan told everyone the records of the area. They were there to contain the fire and let it run its course through the old building. Make sure the flames didn’t jump onto anyone else’s property.

The building was empty. Nobody had lived in it for at least five years. Kolivan said so, he was saying so right now, very loudly through the headset.

But Keith had a bad feeling, and he never ignored his feelings. It was how he’d survived so long and how he’d earned his spot with the fire department in the first place. He had good instincts, he was quick on his feet, virtually fearless, and a damn good fireman.

Much to everyone’s concern and growing annoyance, it was these same characteristics that had lead Keith into more than a few bad situations. He’d gained a reputation for disobeying orders and running head-on into fires and other emergencies his crew was called out on. Kolivan reprimanded him every time, and if not for his raw skill and talent, he would have been released for any variety of discipline issues.

In his eyes, though, he was doing what was right. He was saving people, making a difference. It didn’t matter the cost. He could do good in this world. He would do good in this world.

Right now, his instincts were screaming.

He needed to get out.

He couldn’t leave — not yet.

He’d been in there too long.

Someone needed help.

His help.

 

The air quality was worsening with every step he took, and even with his advanced processing and vision equipment flashing across the visor of his helmet, he knew the scope of his vision was only decreasing as the seconds ticked by.

Keith hesitated at the bottom of the stairs. The fire had torn through the most of the upper level. It was only a matter of time before the hungry fire consumed even the smoke from the space he was taking up.

“Kogane, if you don’t get out of there now we are going to have more than a discipline issue on our hands.” Kolivan’s voice cut through his thoughts, the older man’s agitation only partially covering up the bits of concern peppering his words.

Before Keith could respond, Pidge’s voice cut through his private communication channel. “Keith, the integrity of the structure is declining at a disastrous rate. It’s time to call it, you’ve checked the building, nobody is there, now get out before you go down with it.”

Keith sighed, chewing on his lip while he cast another look at the smoke-filled space behind him.

“I don’t know, Pidge, I just have a bad feeling.”

“Yeah,” Pidge scoffed. Keith could feel them rolling their eyes. “You’ve got a bad feeling because this entire building is about to come crashing down around your dumb fucking head.”

“Ha-ha, real funny,” Keith took a hesitant step toward the front door, switching back over to the voice channel with Kolivan. “Kogane, reporting in. I’m leaving the building. All clear.”

Keith let out a deep breath, trying to exhale some of the anxiety worrying away at his gut for some reason unbeknownst to his conscious self. He took another step, noting the dangerous give in the worn wooden floorboards. This building really was about to go down, and it wasn’t going to wait for him to leave much longer.

On his third step down the hall, he heard it.

The smallest of sounds, barely audible over the roaring of the fire and the shattering of glass as windows on the upper floor blew out.

“ Help. ”

Keith whipped around, already hurrying back down the hall. “Kolivan, there’s someone in here. I’m getting them out.”

He didn’t wait for a response. At the end of the long, dark hallway, he pushed through the mostly-open door in the direction the voice had come from. One of the guys had checked the rooms when they first arrived on the scene, but the building was supposed to be empty. Of course, they didn’t do as thorough of a job as they would have had the building been lived-in.

The room itself was small, but old crates were stacked against each other by the back wall. The voice had to have come from back there, he couldn’t have heard it any further away.

“I’m with the Marmora Fire Department. I’m here to help.” Keith called out, taking several steps into the room, pointedly ignoring the warnings spewing from Kolivan’s mouth.

Nobody deserved to die alone like this.

He would never let anything like that happen again if he could help it.

“I’m trying to help you, can you say something or make a noise? I need to find you, but we don’t have a lot of time.”

The silence that followed haunted Keith.

What if he was too late. What if he missed something.  

Then he heard a light bang on a box.

Keith quickly crossed the room, finding the covered crate the noise had come from. He tore the tarp covering the container, sending ash and dirt flying through the air. He could hear more glass breaking. He could feel the building giving below his feet.

Keith peered into the crate and sucked in a breath at the sight.

Curled into each other, dirty and thin, were two small kids, siblings from the looks of them, no older than three and six. The older of the two, a girl, looked up at Keith with fear in her eyes, tears having already carved paths of clean skin below the grime covering her face. The younger, a boy, didn’t open his eyes. They looked like they’d been living on the streets for a while, possibly their entire, small lives. Keith figured they’d taken refuge in the old home, choosing to hide in the crate right after the fire started.

“Shit. Kolivan there’s two kids in here!” Keith hissed, taking a steadying breath as his mind worked out the logistics for how he was going to get not one, but two kids out of a burning, collapsing building. Kolivan yelled something back, but Keith flipped the communication channel off. He needed to focus.

The girl opened her mouth as if to say something to Keith, but coughs racked her too-tiny frame. Keith pulled a med pouch from one of many pockets in his suit, his fingers already searching for his air filtration masks. They were small, high-tech devices Pidge had developed to take up little space in a med pack, but they expanded at the touch of a button, popping full size into a mask that could filter the smoke-filled air long enough to get people out of buildings without risking further smoke inhalation.

“Just take it easy, okay? I’m here to help you.” The little girl nodded but tightened her grip on the boy in her lap. When Keith pulled one mask free and activated it, he reached forward to secure it around the girl’s face, but she shook her head, gesturing weakly at the boy.

“I know, I’ll help him too, I promise. I need to take care of you first.” Seeing fresh tears in the girl’s eyes at his words, Keith switched tactics. He knew he was running out of time.

“Listen, I need you to be brave for me, okay? I know you are scared, but I am here to help you. I need you to be strong. Can you do that for me?” The girl hesitated, looking wide-eyed at Keith’s words, but then she was nodding vehemently. “Good girl.” Keith smiled and placed the mask over her mouth and nose, noting her gasp of breath when the cleaner air kicked through the filter.

“Okay, now for you,” Keith clicked the second mask open, only to have it fall from his fingers when he dove forward to cover the two kids as the only intact window in the room shattered, sending glass cascading across the room. The device skid across the ground, stopping somewhere among the boxes in the room.

“Keith!” Pidge’s voice crackled through his helmet. “You have to get out of there!”

“I know, Pidge, I’m a little busy at the moment.”

“No, I mean you need to get out of there right now! There’s an exposed gas line and there’s a high risk the whole building could blow. You have to leave, now!”

For a moment, Keith froze, taking in the new information, calculating a plan, scanning the exhausted face of the small girl and the unconscious boy, sending a small prayer to whatever gods were listening at the time — not for him, but for the two kids who deserved so much more than to die starved and half-dead already in an abandoned, burning building.

First things first, he had to get clean air to the boy, or else he’d have risked his life to rescue a corpse. A kid that small couldn’t take any more of the smoke. He only had two masks on him, one was one the girl and the other was somewhere on the ground, which was getting harder to see with every ticking second.

“Pidge, I’m doing something really dumb so be ready.”

“Wait,” Pidge yelled back. “What do you mean? Keith?”

But Keith already had released the seal on his helmet, taking small, measured breaths of the hot, ashy air surrounding them. It choked him, already coating his lungs and burning his eyes.

Keith pulled the smallest child from the crate, dropping down gently to his knees. The boy didn’t respond to the movement.

“Come on, kid. Don’t do this to me.” Keith muttered.

As gently as he could with his hurried and intentional movements, Keith slid his helmet over the boy’s head, clicking the button that sealed off around the wearer’s neck. He watched for a moment, making sure air was pumping from the tank on his back through the small port in the helmet. Once he was sure the system was operational on another person, a much smaller one than him at that, Keith stood, crouching over the crate. He reached in to lift the girl out, and she immediately clung to him tightly.

Keith shifted, repositioning the child so she was hanging more off his back than his hip. “Hold on tight and don’t let go, no matter what.” Keith knew his voice sounded harsh, vocal chords already scratchy and strained from the thick, black smoke he was breathing in.

He didn’t wait for the girl to reply. Bending down as far as he could without displacing the girl, Keith scooped the unconscious child from the ground and into his arms, finding himself extremely relieved to see the small breaths fogging up the glass of the helmet visor.

Keith stood, eyes quickly taking in everything around him. The fire still was somewhat contained to the upper level, but he knew he only had minutes, no, seconds before that changed.

He took a few tentative steps toward the doorway, adjusting to the unfamiliar weight of the two kids. Adjusting to breathing in less oxygen and more carbon monoxide and who knows what other chemicals being released from the burning interior. Keith knew he was strong, much stronger than he looked, but he also knew even the strongest of people could be taken down by one too many breaths inside of a fire.

He maneuvered through the doorway and winced at the burning heat radiating off everything around him. He had somehow forgotten how hot the fires he ran into really were, especially since the skin exposed was his face. Keith squinted, trying to see through the smoke, blinking away the tears instinctually streaming down his face.

A loud pop came from somewhere further in the building or maybe upstairs, Keith wasn’t sure. The little girl screamed at the noise, startled, and her grip around Keith’s neck tightened when she buried her masked face into Keith’s back.

Keith smiled to himself, just barely. As much as he disliked other people, he had always had a bit of a soft spot for kids, surprisingly enough.

His smile was cut off by deep, painful coughs he couldn’t have held in even if he’d tried. It was getting hard to breathe, but between the weight in his lungs and the low visibility, he was having trouble focusing on much of anything. He needed to get these kids out.

Keith took a few determined steps toward the front door, operating only on the memory he had of the layout of the building. He squinted more, thinking maybe he could see the faintest outline of the door, a slight change in what little light filtered through the smoke. Another step forward. Pausing to cough again without losing his grip on the kids. Hot sweat running down his face and neck. More coughing. Another step. He had to be getting close.

An ominous snap was the only warning he got before the plank of wood under one of his feet splintered. Keith yelled out in surprise as one foot went through the floor to hit the concrete foundation only a foot below, but he bit off his cry with a hiss when he felt the painful, jarring sensation of something in his ankle moving the wrong way. Luckily, his grip had tightened on the boy as he fell, and only one foot had gone through a particularly weak spot in the floor, so he still had one foot on “safe” ground, for the time being, at least.

Keith readjusted his grip on the kid in his arms and felt the girl do the same. His weight had shifted to his good foot, the one that hadn’t fallen through, but he had to get his other foot free and he still had to get the three of them out of there.

Keith slowly shifted his weight onto the injured foot, hoping it was just a sprain. Pain shot up his leg at the movement. Keith bit his lip to keep from crying out again. Definitely not just a sprain.

The building groaned around them, setting Keith’s nerves further on edge. Pidge had said the building wasn’t safe...how long did they have?

Keith had to get them out of there. They had to get out now .

Before he could make a plan, he was coughing again, but he was gasping for breath, coughing more and more as he tried to breathe, tried to calm his racing heartbeat, tried to keep it together, just for a little longer. He needed air but his lungs wouldn’t cooperate. Each breath felt smaller than the last. He couldn’t see well before because of the smoke, but now the black edges creeping around his field of vision were quickly becoming much more concerning to the small part of his mind calculating his chance of survival. He’d done a lot of dumb things while on fires, but this was the first time he was maskless and alone and injured all at the same time.

Movement in his arms drew the attention of his panicked mind. The boy shifted in Keith’s arms, coughing a bit as he did. Keith watched the child’s eyelashes flutter as he stirred, not quite waking up but certainly more responsive than when Keith had found him. The filtration system in his mask was doing its job — expertly monitoring and filtering in the most oxygen possible to the boy.

Keith closed his eyes, calming his mind and his racing thoughts.

He had to get these kids out.

He could save them.

He would save them.

Gritting his teeth, Keith started to pull his injured leg free from the splintered wood. The wood put up more resistance than he would have liked, tweaking and pulling at his injured foot more as he moved, but he kept going, refusing to give in to the pain. When he finally got his foot back through the plank, he let out a shaky breath of relief, but that, too, was cut short when he tentatively put weight back onto the foot.

It hurt.

A curse slipped between Keith’s chapped lips as he shook his head, forcing himself to step forward. He immediately put the weight back on his good foot, but he’d taken a step. It was small, but it was progress.

He moved like that, limping forward one half-step, one quarter-step at a time, pushing himself as he continued to cough and blink away tears from the smoke and from the pain.

He could feel the girl’s arms shaking from the effort of holding herself on his back. Part of Keith knew her small body could only take so much of the heat and stress of the situation. The other part of him was solely focused on putting one foot in front of the other, step by step, inching closer to the front door. He could see it now, the outline faint even though the door couldn’t have been more than a few feet in front of him.

Keith freed one of his hands, cradling the small boy in one of his arms so he could reach for the doorknob. The door must have closed at some point, and the rest of the team had surely evacuated the area in case the building did explode.

As he reached for the door, Keith stumbled, this time not holding back his shout as he stepped hard on his bad foot. The sound was swallowed by his coughs, once again taking his breath away and throwing his vision off as he tried to catch his breath.

Blindly, Keith reached forward, gloved fingers scrambling to find the door, lungs screaming for air.

Somehow he found the knob, and he pulled at the door as quickly as his sluggish yet desperate movements would allow. The door opened with little resistance, and Keith all but fell across the threshold, closing his eyes to shield them from the brightness of everything around him now that he wasn’t in the dark, smoke-filled building. His ears were ringing, but he thought he could hear people’s voices shouting.

His head pounded, and he was still coughing, still limping as he shuffled forward. He got them out of the building, but they weren't safe, not yet.

“-re you thinking?!” A voice jumped into clarity, and Keith peeled his eyes open, just enough to see the short, angry form of Pidge sprinting toward him. Keith tried to respond, but his throat was raw. He shook his head, but Pidge, ever the analyst, understood what Keith needed.

“Holy shit you have two kids okay we’ve got to get you guys clear the building is super not safe,” Pidge yelled something into their headset, quickly telling the medics they were coming. “You’re about to fall over, give me one of the kids.”

Keith gestured to the girl with a nod, feeling that she was already slipping off his back. Pidge, though not much taller than the kid, caught her as she fell. Pidge shifted the girl onto their back and started moving toward the lot across the street where Keith could see his team, as well as the medics and police force on the scene, had moved everyone in the surrounding area to.

He continued to limp and breathe raggedly, coughing every few steps but clutching the small boy to his chest even tighter as he went. Pidge shot him several concerned glances, but they knew Keith’s priority was getting the kids help. Nobody else was going to assist them until they reached the safety line; they were strictly told by the police chief they could not jeopardize their own safety by being any closer to the building in the case it exploded. Pidge, of course, was Pidge and didn’t heed the Chief’s not-so-gentle warnings when they had seen Keith stumble through the door.

They were close to the boundary now, Pidge several yards ahead of him, and Keith could finally hear Kolivan’s agitated yells. Beside Kolivan was Altea Police Department Chief Allura. Beside her was her Colonel, Coran, and, on her other side, Captain Shirogane. Under slightly better circumstances, Keith would have laughed at his luck in having Shiro on yet another scene where he had stayed in a fire for too long (had it been six times now?), but it was taking all he had to stay on his feet.

As the thought crossed his mind, Keith’s injured leg gave out, and he stumbled, falling to his knees, coughing more as the sudden movement jarred his body. It took everything in him not to lose his grip on the child in his arms, but Keith had come this far with the kid, he wasn’t giving up now.

His vision swam, and Keith tightly closed his eyes. Keith felt like he was either going to vomit or pass out. Maybe both.

He felt strong, steadying hands grip his shoulders, and his eyes weakly opened back up. Staring into his own bloodshot, watery eyes were a pair of steel grey eyes, a sharp, chiseled jaw, a scar across a fine nose. Shiro.

“I’ve got him, Keith. You can let go now.”

Keith realized belatedly that Shiro had already said that once. Dazed, he nodded and loosened his grip on the small boy. Shiro yelled for the medics who’d followed him over the line against Chief Allura’s orders, and Keith felt a weight lift off his chest when the two men, one tall and lanky and the other wide-chested and strong, ran the child back to their medic rig.

“Keith, can you hear me? Are you okay?”

Keith blinked hard, confused why it sounded like Shiro was speaking from so far away. He didn’t have much time to ponder the question as his vision went black and he slumped forward, unconscious.

Notes:

Here it is! The first full chapter of "Playing With Fire." I hope you all enjoyed this first real look into what this story is about, though this is only the beginning. Let me know what you thought!

In terms of updates, I'm hoping to have new chapters up every other week at least, maybe more frequently, but a lot of that will be determined by my work and school schedules, which can get pretty hectic as I'm in my senior year of college and working several jobs.

You can also find me on tumblr!

Chapter 3: Waking Up

Notes:

*Walks in cluelessly a month after the last update with coffee and a bagel*

It me.

Keith hated hospitals.

The forced, thin-lipped smiles, the scent of antiseptic and impending death, the white walls and faint murmurs of equipment beeping down the hall.

When he broke his arm when he was four, he’d first begun to understand how little he liked hospitals. His father had bought him a huge stuffed hippo to cheer Keith up in his too-big hospital bed. The smell had lingered for weeks though, and it was eery.

Then when he’d gotten pneumonia a few days before his sixth birthday, he’d been poked and prodded by nurses more times than he could remember. Most of that visit passed in a dazed blur, exhausted and too young to fully understand what was going on. He remembered being scared and alone more often than not.

The two weeks he slept at the hospital was the final nail in the casket, this time in the chair beside the hospital bed, praying to every god out there that his father would wake up. Keith was seven.

He’d succeeded in staying away from hospitals after that until he was 18. A few of his foster families didn’t have the money to take him to the hospital when he got really sick or hurt. Others just didn’t care. He learned to deal with whatever was thrown his way. Never complain, never cry, and never look back. Always keep moving.

Once he aged out of the system, Keith left without saying goodbye. It was how he found himself roaming the streets of Altea, nothing more to his name than his backpack and the black duffle slung over his shoulder. It was there his antisocial tendencies somehow landed him a temporary position with the Marmora Fire Department as a custodian, a ridiculous misunderstanding where one of the guys mistook him for their new intern, but it was only a month before the fire chief saw the potential in him. Keith was promoted, granted a full-time position on the department, and so started his time as a fireman.

That was a handful of years ago, and Keith loved the work he did. It made him feel important, like he was actually making some sort of difference. He was good at what he did. He was able to save people, help them realize their worth, their own mortality.

It was this very passion and strength that sent Keith to the hospital more times than he could count. He never meant to get injured, and all things considered, he had survived more than his share of life-threatening situations, but his knack for running back into burning, collapsing buildings was unparalleled. Whether it was to treat burns, broken bones, dehydration, or any number of other things, Keith was notorious for winding up in the hospital. It was never his choice, and he would rather go home with a snapped wrist than sit through an x-ray, but select members of his team had gotten quite good at knowing when Keith was faking being okay, something Keith could not understand. He didn’t know why they cared so much, and they didn’t get how Keith could be so reckless with his own life.

Keith hated inconveniencing others. For the better part of his life, he’d been fully independent, with nobody but himself to believe in, to trust. The idea that others cared about his well being was baffling as all hell. Keith knew better than to get used to it. Complacency was dangerous — it ended with him getting hurt. He always had to stay on his toes, at the top of his game. He had to always be ready, no matter what happened.

And so, when Keith dazedly open his eyes, only to find white walls and bright, artificial lights searing his retinas as they rolled past him on the gurney, he cursed to himself, let his eyes fall shut, and fell back into a dreamless sleep.

 

---

 

When he opened his eyes again, Keith was alone. He was still lying on a hospital bed, which was the last place he wanted to be, but he at least could do damage control without some pretentious doctor lecturing him.

Without having to look, Keith could feel the cannula hooked around his ears and under his nose, soft air blew through, almost too faint to really notice. It made sense, given how much who-knows-what he breathed in from the fire. His right arm sported an IV, his entire body felt like lead, and his right foot was tightly bound in a cast that went halfway up his shin. Nothing really hurt, but he could feel the numbing tingling in the back of his head, telling him they’d put him on some painkillers.

The door to his room slid open, and Keith barely had the mind to conceal the wince on his face when he saw the deeper-than-normal bags under Pidge’s eyes. Pidge didn’t miss the expression.

“You’re not looking too hot either, Mr. Saves-The-Day,” they smirked, but Keith could see the concern and the genuine relief behind the banter.

“How --” Keith coughed, his throat raw from smoke and coughing, now made even rougher from disuse.

“Don’t talk too much. The Doc said your throat will be pretty sore the next few days.” Pidge gently sat at the foot of the left side of Keith’s bed, careful not to jostle him. “You scared the shit out of us this time, Keith.”

Keith felt guilt building in his gut. It always took him by surprise when one of his friends cared about what happened to him, even after knowing them for several years now. He hadn’t even thought about them, he’d been so focused on saving those kids.

“How are they?” Keith whispered, his voice raspy, but audible.

Pidge shook their head, rolling their eyes. “You don’t get it, do you. The kids are fine. They were lucky they didn’t suffer from any burns, just a bit of oxygen deprivation. The boy’s still hooked up to O-2, but that’s just as a precaution since he’s so young. We pulled some papers and there’s no record of them in the system. The girl didn’t know where their parents went or how long they’d been alone.” Pidge gripped Keith’s left leg tightly enough to show the sincerity in their words. “They would have died completely alone and forgotten if not for you, Keith. You did a good job in there.”

Keith smiled, letting himself relax into the firm pillows propping him up.

“How long‘ve I been here?”

Pidge frowned. “You were out for three days. They moved you in for surgery pretty much the minute the ambulance pulled in. I saw your fucking ankle bone, Keith. Do you know how disgusting and cool that was?” Keith laughed through his nose, careful to control how much he aggravated his throat.

“Anyway, you were in and out of it when they brought you in, and they put you under for surgery to fix your very broken and very gross ankle. The anesthesia kept you out for a while and they were worried about bringing you back before your oxygen levels were back to normal, so they kept you out for a bit longer than they normally would have. They also said you were severely dehydrated and your body was sleep deprived, but we figured that was just a normal Keith thing.” Pidge fixed Keith with a stern glare. “You’ve got to start taking care of yourself.”

“Yes, Mom.” Keith rolled his eyes, but there was no heat in his words.

Pidge grinned wickedly. “I’m not the one you should be calling that.”

Keith frowned. “What do you mean?”

Pidge wagged their eyebrows suggestively. “I’m sure he’ll be here any minute now. I sent him a text when you weren’t looking. He’ll be very excited to hear you’re awake.”

“He? Pidge I don’t know --”

The door opening again cut Keith off, and the figure standing in the doorway had Keith wishing there was a bit more oxygen pumping into his lungs to help him breathe.

Takashi Shirogane.

Captain Takashi Shirogane was standing in his hospital room.

Keith threw a confused and bewildered look at Pidge, who simply had a wickedly sharp smile plastered across their face.

Keith looked back at the tall, buff, chiseled man who hesitated at the door, both eyes on Keith.

Jesus fuck.

Notes:

Well, in true author fashion, I dropped the ball on my update schedule. I don't know how regular updates will be in the future, but just know they WILL happen. Eventually. I'm trying, loves <3

I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Chapter 4: Constellations In His Eyes

Keith had had plenty of dreams involving Police Captain Takashi Shirogane. Plenty of dreams. Some involving the man in uniform. Some involving him in … less.

But never, never had it crossed Keith’s subconscious mind to conjure something up like Police Captain Takashi Shirogane standing in his hospital room while he was still very much incapacitated via IV, cast, painkillers, and god knows what else they had him on.

Internally, Keith repeated himself. Jesus fuck.

Externally, he was half as eloquent. “‘Sup?”

Internally, Keith punched himself in the face.

From his peripheral vision, Keith could see Pidge not trying very hard to conceal their blatant amusement at Keith’s lack of tact or social skills. Keith would have snapped something snarky at them if not for the raw hunk of muscle and beauty standing in front of him.

Keith furrowed his brow. Those are definitely some strong painkillers. He blinked hard, hoping, praying that he would be able to keep it together well enough to face Shiro after this encounter.

Keith watched as the smallest hint of a smile quirked Shiro’s lip at Keith’s words. He wrote off the fuzzy feeling in his gut as the meds currently pumping through his veins.

“Hi,” Shiro smiled fully this time, softly now, with something else, something more just beneath the surface that Keith couldn’t quite place. Before he could figure it out, Pidge let out an exaggerated yawn, bringing their arms above their head as their back popped with an audible crack.

“Well, as much fun as it is watching you two jerk off, I’m gonna go catch some z’s.”

Keith’s face grew red, and his head spun around to shoot a mortifying look at Pidge.

“Katie!” Pidge was already heading toward the door, one hand raised behind them with a middle finger up in a wave. Keith could hear Shiro covering up a choke with a cough, but it was anything but inconspicuous. Pidge stopped at the door, turning to fix Keith with a stare that was serious, but full of the concerned, no bullshit attitude Keith had grown to fear and appreciate more than he let on.

“If you need me, call me, okay?” They shared a long, hard look with Keith before Keith finally broke the moment with a soft eye roll that conveyed everything he knew he didn’t have to say out loud. Pidge knew.

Pidge pushed open the door and stepped into the hallway. “Later nerds!”

Once he thought Pidge was out of earshot, Keith mumbled under his breath. “Fucking Gremlin.” Shiro chuckled across the room, and Keith felt his cheeks warm again.

“I heard that!” Pidge’s voice echoed off the empty walls of the hallway, and Keith laughed. He and Shiro both laughed when they heard a nurse tell Pidge to respect the noise policy while out in common spaces of the hospital.

Once the grumbling in the hallway faded into nothing, Keith realized the weight of the situation. He was finally alone with Shiro, but these were … less than desirable circumstances. He didn’t know where to start. Hell, he didn’t even know why Shiro was there. It wasn’t the first time Keith had landed himself in the hospital. He knew it probably wouldn’t be the last. And while this had been one of his most extensive injuries with Marmora FD, it wasn’t like he’d actually almost died. Inwardly, Keith cringed, remembering the concern written all over Pidge’s face when they had walked in only a few minutes before. So, maybe he'd gotten a bit more injured than he'd hoped.

Keith was spared from awkwardly trying to make small talk because Shiro, ever the Captain, took a step closer to Keith’s bed and opened his mouth.

“You can’t keep throwing your life away like that.” The words came out rushed and harsh, a sort of bite to them like there was much more to what Shiro was thinking.

Keith furrowed his brow, immediately finding himself on the defensive. “What are you talking about?”

Shiro didn’t miss a beat. “You know what I’m talking about. Putting yourself in unnecessary danger, disobeying direct orders from your fire command, taking off your own helmet in the middle of a fire — Jesus, Keith, what were you thinking?” Shiro’s tone was even, but Keith could feel the heat in his words.

“I was doing my job.”

“You put yourself in danger.” Shiro took a step closer to Keith’s bed, closing the distance between them much quicker than Keith would have liked.

“I saved those kids, Shiro.”

Another step. “Did you even think about your own life for one second?”

“I was thinking there were people who needed my help.”

“Yeah?” Shiro stopped, having reached the side of the bed. He fixed Keith with steel eyes, ever the stoic Police Captain. “And what if you had died in there?”

Keith didn’t drop his eyes, and for a split second, Keith almost let the words fly from his mouth. He almost let free the words burning his throat, begging, screaming to be released, to finally be acknowledged.

Who the fuck cares.

Would have been better off.

I would have deserved it.

Then so be it.

At least it would have been for something.

Instead, Keith bit his cheek and held in his breath. Still, he refused to lower his gaze, and maybe a part of his soul screamed out through his eyes, pleading for someone to finally see the fire consuming Keith from the inside out. The silence between the two men accentuated the rapid beeping of the heart monitor beside Keith’s bed, each beep signaling another step closer to Keith’s undoing of himself.

In the end, it was Shiro who broke their eye contact first. The older man sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes. In that moment, Keith saw someone much more exhausted and weathered than Shiro’s 28 years should have allowed him. Keith looked down at his hands, fingers bunched around the thin sheet covering one leg and his waist. Noticed the skin around the IV taped to the back of his hand was tighter than it should be, already looking bruised and much too pale where his leather gloves usually hid his skin from the sunlight. He let out a shaky but silent breath, slowly releasing his iron grip on the cotton.

“I’m sorry...”

Keith hated the way his own voice shook. He watched Shiro’s hand drop back down to his side from the corner of his eye, but he refused to look back up at the man. He knew his ears were burning in shame, and he didn’t want to see pity or anger or whatever was held in Shiro’s gaze. He’d acted irresponsibly, and he knew it. But still…

“But I won’t apologize for saving those kids.” Keith shook his head, hating how his eyes burned. “They deserved better than to die alone back there. So if it meant I had to die? Tough. If it meant saving them, I’d do it all over again the exact same way. You can’t tell me not to save people. That’s my job. That’s what I’m good at.” That’s all I’m good at. 

Silence followed, but unlike the last one, this one felt less volatile to Keith. Still vulnerable, but almost safe, in some strange, terrifying way.

He didn’t expect Shiro to respond, so the words that came next took Keith by surprise.

“I’m proud of you.”

Keith’s head shot up in confusion. “What?”

“I don’t approve of you risking your life like that, and you should be more careful and use your team in the future for rescues like that. But I’m proud of what you did out there.” Shiro was smiling and, God, that smile cut Keith to the core. It was warm and safe and so fucking full . It was everything Keith craved and so much more.

Shiro laughed softly to himself, and Keith could have sworn he saw the air surrounding Shiro visibly brighten at the sound. Though he knew it was probably the painkillers, part of him liked to imagine it was the universe reacting to all the good within Shiro.

Shiro left after that, telling Keith to get some rest, but not before promising to return the next day when he was off duty.

Keith sat in his bed in silence, head buzzing with feelings and thoughts he didn’t have a name for. He felt himself starting to drift into sleep as he replayed their conversation, trying to process with his foggy brain what had just happened. His mind kept coming back to the image of Shiro smiling, the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, the way he tucked into himself, just slightly as he did so, chin coming close to his chest as if he were trying to hold in the laughter threatening to burst from his mouth and spill out like thousands of stars, littering the Earth with a new galaxy that was everything Shiro .

The rational part of Keith knew he should pull back, that he was going to end up getting himself hurt if he let himself dance among daydreams where he was somehow good enough for Shiro.

The irrational side of Keith cradled him into sleep, caressing his hair and cheek while whispering sweet nothings into his ear — something about a man made of stars who’s words danced themselves into constellations.

Those same constellations Keith had fallen in love with all those years ago.

Notes:

It's good to be back.

 

Yeahhhh it's been a while. Truth is, life has been less than great. *cue oversharing with strangers*
Between college kicking my ass, depression coming for every ounce of motivation and energy, surviving my first serious breakup, a minor (read: major) identity/orientation crisis, dealing with issues with friends, work, my impending and ever-uncertain future, graduating college in May, ..... it's been ... a lot.

But there have also been some really great things. I came into myself, walked away from some things, learned a lot. I'm here and I'm going to make the most of this world.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter lovelies. Stay safe, space nerds <3

Chapter 5: Going Home

The next few days passed quickly for Keith. After Shiro had left, Keith had drifted in and out of consciousness, sleeping off the rest of the anesthesia and the heaviest of the painkillers the doctors had put him on. The next day he’d been less drugged but still exhausted from both his injuries and his general lack of self-care. The doctor’s had taken him off oxygen at that point and started pulling back on the pain medication, though they still were giving him fluids and vitamins through his IV since he’d yet to gain his appetite back and his throat was so wrecked Keith didn’t want to imagine swallowing anything more than a few sips of water or juice. Sleeping took up most of his time, and Keith couldn’t complain. His body was tired, and the few, short visits from Pidge and Kolivan left him even more drained than before. His foot hurt and his body still felt like he’d been a punching bag for the Hulk, but he was on the mend.

By day six in the hospital, including the first three he spent totally unconscious, Keith was ready to leave.

“Come on, Doc, just give me a boot and some crutches and I’ll be good to go!” Keith sat up in his bed, casted leg slightly elevated, arms crossed as he glared at the doctor standing next to him. A nurse moved around him on the other side, checking his vitals and recording measurements from the monitors still hooked up to Keith.

“Keith,” the doctor sighed, trying to keep her patience after arguing with Keith for the past twenty minutes on why he couldn’t move around the hospital freely. “As I said before, it’s going to be a while before you get that cast off and can put any weight on that leg. And, when that time comes, you are going to need some serious physical therapy to build up your strength and make sure you don’t aggravate the injury while it heals. As for clearing you to leave —”

“I’m fine to leave, I promise. I’ll take my meds and try to stay off. Just let me leave this damn hospital before I lose my mind.” Keith wasn’t the type to beg, but one more day in the hospital might change his mind.

The doctor gave Keith a knowing look, waiting for him to finish before continuing. “Like I was saying. Your vitals are looking much better and we are expecting your ankle to heal fully if you follow what we say and actually stay off it until you are cleared to put any weight on it. These first few weeks are critical, and something tells me you’d rather not end back up here to do another surgery because your ankle healed incorrectly. We’d like to keep you another night, but if you insist you are feeling good enough to go home and promise to have someone stay with you overnight just in case, I’ll sign off and let you leave.”

Keith felt the pit of anxiety in his gut that had refused to leave since he’d first realized he was in the hospital finally start to ebb away.

The nurse finished taking the last few notes from the machines, and finally removed Keith’s IV. He looked at the bruising all over his hand as he flexed his fingers and curled them into a loose fist. His pale skin bruised easily, and having a needle stuck in him for almost a week definitely wasn’t helping his case. After hearing and appropriately nodding at his doctor’s instructions for the next week until his follow up appointment back at the hospital, Keith pulled out his phone. He needed to wait for the paperwork to clear, but he’d be able to leave in about an hour. Finally.

 

Keef: U busy?

Pidgeon: Coding some new mods. Everything good?

Keef: They cleared me to leave. Need someone to pick me up.

Keef: Nd a babysitter according to the dr

Keef: Last point is up for debate

Pidgeon: B there in 20 my smol bean <3

Keef: :((

Pidgeon: >:)

 

The next hour was full of signing paperwork, promising his doctor he would at least try to take it easy, resisting smacking Pidge for every comment about how they were going to take great care of their kid for the night, and learning how to walk with crutches.

“You going to make it there, kiddo?” Pidge snickered as Keith limped/crutched slowly down the hallway of the hospital. The nurse had tried forcing him into a wheelchair, but Keith’s glare scared her off.

“Pidge, one more comment and I’m moving my PlayStation into my room.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“I would. And I will.” Keith paused as the doors slid open, revealing the dark outside to him for the first time since he’d gone into the hospital. “But really though, these things are a hell of a lot harder than they look on TV. And they’re uncomfortable.”

“Never thought I’d live to see the great Keith complain about being uncomfortable.” Pidge smiled, but Keith knew the concern was there, underneath. Slipping back into their normal banter was the easiest way to get things back to normal, to pretend that Keith hadn’t spent the last six days in and out of consciousness.

“You try limping around on these things with a heavy cast dragging your practically severed foot around, and then tell me I shouldn’t complain. Seriously, it’s like lugging around a 10-pound ankle chain.”

“Kinky.” Keith groaned, knowing he’d set himself up for that one.

They slowly made their way across the parking lot to where Pidge’s Mustang was parked. It was Pidge’s pride and joy, custom black and green paint job and tech specs more advanced and unique than any car out there. Pidge tended to hyperfocus, and the car, Rover, was an obsession they came back to often. It also helped that working as a tech consultant for everyone in town paid nicely.

“Watch your cast and crutches getting into them. Rover doesn’t need any new dents.” A high-tech, non-binary car for a non-binary supergenius. It was a match made in heaven. Or hell, if you asked Keith.

Pidge wordlessly grabbed Keith’s crutches as he opened the door and lowered himself into the car, trying not to bang his cast into anything. He pulled his leg into the car while Pidge tossed the crutches into the back seat. Pidge joked around, but they knew how much Keith hated needing help of any kind. Keith appreciated Pidge’s effort.

The drive home was quiet, and Keith found himself nodding off with his head against the window. Even after spending days in bed sleeping, the meds were wearing him out. Pidge let him sleep, turning up the volume on their stereo slightly as soft indie music filtered through the speakers. It had been a long week for all of them.

The sound of Pidge turning off the car woke Keith up. He didn’t bother hiding his yawn as he unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door. Keith rolled his neck, working out the kink that had formed while he slept at the awkward angle, before carefully working his right leg out of the car. Pidge was already at the passenger side, crutches in hand. They waited for Keith to find his balance before starting off at a slow pace toward their apartment. Lucky for Keith, they lived on the first floor. Usually, their upstairs neighbors had Keith cursing their bottom floor apartment, but for the first time, he found himself grateful since he didn’t have to test out his crutch-stair coordination quite yet.

Pidge unlocked the front door and turned on the light, waiting for Keith to make it inside before locking the door behind them. Keith instantly felt lighter as he took a few steps into the apartment. He’d started renting the two-bedroom when he got his first real paycheck working with the department, and Pidge had become his roommate a few months after the two had met out on a call and bonded over their mutual obsessions with cryptids and bad sci-fi movies. Occasional leaky pipe and defunct smoke detectors aside: it was more of a home than Keith had ever known in his twenty-one years.

“Do you need anything, Keith?” Pidge tossed their keys onto the kitchen counter and reached into their backpack for the bottles of night-time painkillers the doctor had handed to Keith when they’d checked out of the hospital.

“I want to shower. But that’s going to be a fun game for future Keith to deal with.” Keith groaned internally at the thought. He felt grimy from being in the hospital, but all he really wanted right now was to sleep in his own bed.

“I’ll grab you some water and your meds.”

Keith grumbled a thanks as he made his way to his room. He didn’t even bother turning on the lights before hobbling over to his bed. He pushed the random things onto the floor that he’d left strewn across the bed before he’d left on that last call before sitting on the bed, leaning his crutches against the wall next to him. He pried his tennis shoe off his foot and tossed it into the abyss that had become his closet, barely missing hitting Pidge as they stepped into the room.

“Use me for target practice when I’m not being nice and you aren’t sleep deprived, my sweet summer child. You’ll have better results.” Pidge handed the two pills in their hand and the glass of water to Keith. “Doesn’t look like you’ll need help falling asleep tonight, but these are supposed to knock you out pretty soundly the next few nights.”

Keith tossed the pills back and took a sip of water to wash them down. “Thanks, Pidge.”

“And if you don’t like them, we can always sell them to high schoolers for cash.”

“Thank you Pidge.” Keith felt a smile pulling at his lips at the dark humor he’d missed while he had been stuck in the hospital.

“Or I’ll just start snorting them. Maybe I’ll be more productive if I’m high. You know what they say about all the best inventors, right? Maybe you snapping your foot off was a sign. I’m meant to be a mad scientist, Keith, this proves it.” Pidge looked absolutely serious, but Keith could read the glint in their eyes for what it was. They were happy to have Keith home.

“Goodnight Pidge.”

“Let me know if you have any weird side-effects though. I wouldn’t want to start running around without any—” Pidge was cut off with a grin as Keith threw a pillow at them. “Okay, I got the memo, I’m leaving.”

“ Goodnight Pidge.” Keith was grinning too, the semblance of normality and comfort of his best friend easing away the rest of his anxieties from the last week. He picked up another pillow, raising it in the air in preparation to throw it in Pidge’s direction.

“Alright, alright, I’m going!”

Pidge hesitated at the door, their face serious again. “I’m serious though, if you need anything or you feel weird at all, please tell me. I know you’re all macho-Keith, but you’re hurt and it’s okay to need help. I’m turning off Protective Pidge Mode after this but I’m here if you need me, okay?”

Keith looked at Pidge in silence, long enough to let Pidge know he understood, before cracking a small smile. “Protective Pidge Mode?”

Pidge groaned. “Shut up and go to bed, asshole.” They shut the door but Keith could feel their smile.

Keith yelled at the closed door. “Love you too!”

Left in the silence of his own company, finally free of all the beeping and creaking and noise of the hospital, Keith found his thoughts flooding back into their normal, overthinking nighttime patterns. He shook his head and took a breath, knowing he needed to just get to sleep and deal with his brain another night (or never).

Keith pulled his cast onto the bed and threw his blanket over himself as he laid down, sinking into his pillow. He could feel the pull of the meds already working through his system, and he knew he’d be out within seconds.

The last thing he saw before he fell asleep was the faint glow of the glow-in-the-dark stars he’d glued to his ceiling.

Stars.

Keith liked the stars.

He wondered if Shiro liked stars too.

Notes:

Thank you for sticking around and reading another chapter of Playing With Fire. This story has sort of become something of its own in the months I've been writing it, and I am excited to keep sharing with all of you the surprises I have planned ^_^

In case any of you were wondering, I came up with ages for everyone in the story! Keith is 21, Shiro is 25, Allura is 27, Hunk is 23, Lance 22, and Pidge is 18 but a genius so basically 40. Keith and Pidge are roommates (oh my god they were roommates rip vine) and bffs. This chapter sort of took on a platonic Kidge note, but, God, I live for my Keith and Pidge bonding time. Let the two be nerdy weirdos together, okay? Also, if you were wondering what the inspo for Pidge's car is, please google "the green machine mustang." I promise you will NOT be disappointed.

As we head into the holiday season, I will either have a TON of time to write or absolutely no time at all, so please bear with me. I'm trying my best <3

You can follow me on Twitter for my IRL musings as well as my VLD obsessions (holy cheese S8 is coming), or follow me on Tumblr (even though it's currently dying rip).

Leave a comment if you liked the update! All of your comments mean the world to me, and maybe someday I'll have the energy to actually reply back instead of being an anxiety mess <3

Chapter 6: Back to Basics

“Chief, he’s back.” Keith could hear the groans and laughter of his coworkers filling the station as someone (gods help whoever it was if Keith ever figures out who) hollars toward the back of the fire station where Kolivan’s office was at. The firetruck bays were open, letting some of the cool fall breeze into the station, and several of the guys lounged around, cleaning equipment and the trucks. Keith had walked, or step-crutched, not even two feet into the station when he could hear Kolivan cursing.

“—his ass if he thinks I’m letting him in here already.”

“Good morning, Kolivan,” Keith put on his best bullshit smile as he lazily leaned over his crutches. He could hear several of the guys, probably Thace and Antok, snort at his cheery disposition.

“Good morning, my ass.” Kolivan stopped in front of Keith, his arms crossed and a brow quirked. “The hell are you doing here, Kogane?”

Keith groaned and threw his head back. Apparently he wasn’t fooling anyone.

“Oh, come on, Kolivan. It’s been weeks and I am pretty sure that if I have to take one more leisurely stroll around the park I am going to light something on fire just to have an excuse to do some work.”

“Keith, I know you want to work, but you’re still on medical leave —”

“I know I am!” Keith cut off Kolivan, regretting it a bit as he knew it was a pet peeve of the Chief’s, but, per usual, he couldn’t help it. “Please, Chief. I can help out. I’ve been going to p.t., I’ll stay off my leg, I’ve done everything the doctors’ said —”

“Everything but stay home from the station,” Antok muttered to Ulaz and Thace, amusement covering his features.

“—I swear I’ll keep out of the way and not do anything too strenuous. Hell, you don’t even have to pay me —”

“He does know he’s on paid leave still, right?”

“—and I’m going to lose my mind if I don’t do anything. I’ll even sit and fill out paperwork or something, just let me do something.” Keith was ready to beg. This was the longest he’d ever sat around doing nothing, and the monotony was driving him up the wall. To be fair, he had been listening to the doctors (for the most part), he had been going to physical therapy (pushing himself further than he was told to but still), and he’d only casually stopped by the station three times since his release from the hospital. To Keith, he’d waited far longer than he’d expected himself to, and honestly, it was only a matter of time before this was going to happen.

Keith did his best to plead through his eyes as Kolivan fixed him with a long stare. Neither said anything for several long seconds. Finally, Kolivan sighed and turned around, walking back to his office.

“Two hours. Then you go back home for the day. And if I catch you off those crutches, I swear I’ll send you back to the hospital on bed rest for a week.”

 

The next few days passed much quicker for Keith. He knew he couldn’t do much, but he could at least get out of the house and work on cleaning or fixing up parts for a few hours a day until Kolivan yelled at him to go home. Keith would never admit it out loud, but he’d missed his team. Antok, Ulaz, Thace, even Kolivan — they were the first ones to give him a chance, and honestly, they were the closest thing he’d ever had to family, aside from Pidge, of course.

So, Keith fell into a rhythm. He’d go to physical therapy on the mornings he had it, stop by the station for as long as he was allowed, bother Pidge if they were out, head home and work on his bike as best as he could without his cast getting in his way or hole himself up in his room and paint or draw. It had been a while since he’d really focused on his art, being so busy with work, but after his hospital stay it had been cathartic and one of the few things he could do with only one working leg.

It was at the station where Keith found himself, head buried in his sketchbook (he’d been bringing it with him for when Kolivan told him to take a break) when a familiar voice echoed through the station.

“Thanks for fixing these up, Thace! We really appreciate it. ‘Llura would have asked our maintenance girl, but she’s out of town at the moment.”

Keith’s pencil froze as he looked up, finding Shiro smiling, friendly as ever, as Thace handed him a large duffle with ALTEA PD etched along the sides.

“No problem, Shirogane! We’ve actually got an extra set of hands with Keith around again, so it didn’t take long to get them finished up for you guys.”

Keith cursed inwardly. Of course Thace would find it necessary to mention to Shiro that he was here.

“Keith’s back? I thought he was still on leave?” Shiro hadn’t noticed him yet, but Keith knew it was only a matter of time. And with his damn crutches it was next-to-impossible for him to get anywhere inconspicuously.

Thace laughed, unaware of Keith’s internal panic. “Chief couldn’t keep him out of here more than a few weeks. Kid’s stubborn, that’s for sure. I’m pretty sure he’s actually still around here somewhere, if you wanna say hi.” Thace looked around for a second, but it didn’t take him long to notice Keith curled up in a windowsill under the sun, sketchbook in hand, glaring daggers his way. “There he is! Keith, why didn’t you say you were creeping in a corner?” Keith made a mental note to talk to Thace later. Thace wasn’t stupid. He knew what he was doing.

“Keith!” Shiro’s face lit up as his eyes landed on Keith. Keith felt his red face betraying his embarrassment, and he forced a little wave as Shiro thanked Thace again and started walking over to him.

It wasn’t that he was ignoring Shiro. No, ignoring Shiro was the last thing Keith wanted to do.

But Shiro was … confusing. Keith had never found himself so enamored by a person before. He found himself thinking about Shiro way more than he knew he should, and he felt his grip on reality slipping every time he fell into a Shiro-is-amazing spiral. Keith had only spoken with him a handful of times before his accident, but he’d found himself spending hours talking with Shiro while he was still in the hospital, and then even more when he ran into Shiro occasionally on his way in and out of physical therapy since the clinic he was going to was right next to the police station.

Keith didn’t form connections with people easily, but he’d felt a spark the moment he’d met Shiro. Their friendship, if you could even call it that, was strictly professional, but Keith couldn’t ignore the uncharacteristic butterflies in his gut at every mention of the man. He knew it was stupid, but he also was currently in denial. There was no way he had a crush on Shiro. The two hadn’t even exchanged phone numbers or hung out outside of work or Keith’s treatment for his injuries, but Keith couldn’t help himself from constantly thinking about Shiro’s eyes, his smile, his laugh, his —

Keith shook his head and mentally slapped himself as he closed his sketchbook. Get it together.

“Hey, Shiro.”

“Keith, hey! How’ve you been? I didn’t expect to see you around here yet or else I would have stopped by sooner to say hi.”

“Still hobbling around, but I make myself useful,” Keith laughed a little as he spoke. “Technically I’m not supposed to be here, but I, uhm, convinced Kolivan to let me help out a few hours a day. I’ve never been very good at listening to directions or sitting still.”

Shiro laughed at that. “So I’ve noticed. Hey, I was about to go grab something to eat if you’re finished here for the day.”

The excuse was falling from his lips before Keith even realized what he was saying. “I was actually planning on working on one of the trucks before I —”

“He’s all yours.”

Keith whipped his head around to find Kolivan standing a few feet away, a telling half-smile on his lips. The bastard.

Shiro just smiled.

Keith pushed down his instincts, the ones roaring at him to flee the scene before he said something stupid or somehow ruined everything. They were just going to grab food, not a big deal.

“Okay then, looks like Mom’s kicking me out of the house.”

“Watch it, Kogane.” Kolivan had turned to walk back to wherever he’d come from, but Keith could hear the playfulness in his voice. He made another note to add Kolivan to his list of people to talk to later, right next to Thace.

Keith tossed his book and pencils into his bag and slung it over his shoulder before grabbing his crutches from their place against the wall next to him.

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to, I just figured I’d offer since you looked like you weren’t too busy and it’s been a while since we talked…” Shiro trailed off, clearly unsure how to continue and not wanting to pressure Keith into anything. Keith watched him run his fingers through his white bangs. Keith hadn’t seen this side of Shiro, the shy, unsure side. 

It was adorable.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I don’t really have much going on aside from bothering everyone here and making Pidge hang out when I get bored back home.” Keith lifted himself off the windowsill and onto the ground, careful not to land on his casted leg (he didn’t want Shiro worrying or anything). “So, where we going?”

Shiro lead the way, telling Keith about a really great diner just outside of town if Keith was okay with Shiro driving them somewhere. Of course, Keith said yes and walked with him over to Shiro’s black range rover.

Keith was going out.

To get food.

With Shiro.

Keith was going out to get food with Shiro.

He tried to calm his racing heart as he got into the passenger seat and Shiro put on some music. It’s not a date. Just two bros, two dudes grabbing some burgers and fries after work.

It was in that instant Keith realized how royally and utterly fucked he was.

He liked Shiro.

He like liked Shiro.

I owe Pidge twenty bucks.

Notes:

I'M BACK.

Thank you for all being so patient and kind as I took forever to write the next chapter of Playing With Fire. I deleted the placeholder chapter/author's note when I uploaded this one, but to make a long story short, life's a bitch but we get to make her our bitch. Am I right, or am I right?

To everyone who has commented on my fic, thank you so, so much. You guys give me so much life and inspiration, and I want you to know I so deeply appreciate every single comment and kudo. I know I hardly ever respond to comments (I do mentally, but I like to see them in my inbox so I keep them there like a selfish author), but I read every single one of them multiple times. Thank you for your support.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed chapter six! Let me know what you think! If there's anything you'd like to see happen (i.e. what kind of date(s) should they go on?? should we bring in some angst?? should ____ happen??) let me know and I'll see what I can do! Also, if this is publishing at a really weird time for you, so sorry. I write and publish all at the same time, sooooo you got this the instant it was done being written.

I hope you enjoyed!!

Chapter 7

Notes:

Before you jump into this chapter, I wanted to let you know I decided to end Playing With Fire, at least this part of Keith and Shiro's journey. I started writing this chapter like any other, but when I reached the end it felt right to stop here, at least for now. My biggest hope is to come back with a sequel as soon as I can, but until then I hope you are happy with how this ends <3

“Absolutely not.”

“Please?”

“I said no, Keith.”

“Come on, Pidge. Do you want me to beg? Because I will.”

“Dammit, no, Keith, I will not do bodily harm to you so you stop fantasizing about your boyfriend. Now leave me alone.”

Keith groaned. “First off, he’s not my boyfriend. Second, that’s not what I was asking you to do. And third — “

Keith was cut off as his phone started buzzing on the table next to him. He heard Pidge mutter something, but he was too wrapped up in the five letters on his screen to pay them any mind.

S H I R O

“This conversation isn’t over,” Keith swiped his phone up and walked back toward his room, answering it just as his door shut behind him.

“Hello?” Keith hoped he wasn’t as breathless as he thought he felt.

“Hey, Keith! It’s Shiro.”

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

The awkward silence that followed usually would put Keith off, but there was something about Shiro that somehow put him at ease, pushed some of his insecurities and anxieties to the back of his mind.

“Sorry for calling so soon after dropping you off, I hope you weren’t busy or anything.” Shiro sounded nervous. Keith thought it was adorable.

“You don’t need to apologize,” Keith smiled as he plopped down onto his bed, phone cradled against his ear. “I’m glad you called. I, um, I had a really great time today.”

“Yeah? I’m glad you did!”

“It was nice hanging out, outside of work and hospitals,” Keith laughed softly to himself as he spoke, still coming to terms with the fact he was casually talking to Shiro on the phone after spending several hours with him at the diner and driving around after. They’d found a flow to their conversations — nothing felt forced or unnatural, which Keith was incredibly grateful for. He wasn’t good with words, but somehow, with Shiro everything was easier.

Shiro laughed back, the sound rougher through the phone than in real life, but beautiful all the same. “I’m glad you had a good time, though. I did too. Even though you almost tricked me into killing you.”

Keith couldn’t stop himself from laughing and rolling his eyes. “A small milkshake wouldn’t have killed me, Shiro. I’m just lactose intolerant, it’s not like a peanut allergy.”

“Nope, definitely would have ended your life. I would have had to drag your sorry body back to the hospital. It would have been quite traumatic.”

“Oh my God Shiro,” Keith laughed harder, remembering Shiro’s look of horror. Shiro’s laugh echoed over the phone line.

After their laughter had died down, a comfortable silence enveloped Keith.

“Okay, so I know we just got food a few hours ago, but I actually was calling for a reason.”

“It wasn’t just to give me a hard time for trying to drink a milkshake?” Keith grinned, even though he knew Shiro couldn’t see it.

“Not quite, though we can come back to that later if you still think you’re not wrong. So actually, we got these tickets through work for the exhibit that’s in town, and I have this extra ticket, so if you weren’t doing anything I was hoping maybe you’d — ”

Keith immediately sat up. “Wait, you have tickets to the art exhibit?!”

“Yes?”

“And you’re inviting me?”

“Yes?”

“To the art exhibit. The art exhibit, the one with the Warhol and the Monet and the Kahlo? The one that’s only here for this weekend?” Keith was faintly aware of Shiro’s slightly confused laughter.

“That’s the one.”

“What time.”

 

*****

 

“I’ll be honest, I didn’t take you to be such an avid appreciator of traditional art,” Shiro teasingly joked.

Keith and Shiro took a few more steps toward the roped-off entrance, complete with several security guards, metal detectors, coat and bag checks, and complimentary champagne flutes just visible through the open doors. Keith had made himself presentable with black skinny jeans, a deep maroon button-down with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, his hair braided back, and, of course, his infuriating crutches and boot clashing with his attempt at looking nice without looking like he’d tried too hard.  Keith still wore his fingerless gloves, though nobody questioned him with his crutches. Shiro’s dark grey sweater vest over the long-sleeved white dress shirt and fitted slacks were definitely a good look on him, in Keith’s opinion. He’d blushingly told Shiro so when the older man had picked Keith up.

“Yeah, I get that a lot. People expect me to be the guy who burns down art galleries, not the one who knows everything about them. I actually wanted to go to art school when I was a kid.”

Keith was spared answering the questions he knew were on Shiro’s mind as the pair reached the entrance. The man at the entrance asked for their names and tapped away at the iPad in his hands for a moment before waving Shiro and Keith through.

The moment Keith stepped into the huge room, his jaw dropped. Canvases and carvings and statues covered the walls and the display tables all around him. He’d never seen this much famous art in person before, and he honestly never expected he’d be able to. These were renowned pieces, crafted by the masters and beloved by millions, and they were right in front of him.

“This is easily the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Keith could feel the dumbstruck look on his face, but he didn’t care.

“I agree.” If Keith had looked up, he would have realized Shiro wasn’t looking at the art.

“Shiro,” Keith whined, completely oblivious to what he’d missed, “I think that’s an actual van Gogh over there.”

Shiro laughed softly, finally following Keith’s gaze to see what he was so enamored with. “We can go look at it, you know.”

“I think this might be the best day of my life.”

The two walked around, Keith carefully on his crutches and Shiro right by his side. Keith couldn’t help but let the childish glee escape him with every new piece they looked at. Shiro introduced Keith to several of his coworkers that Keith hadn’t properly met outside of the small talk that happened during fires and emergencies, and at one point Allura stopped them to see how Keith had been doing since his “accident,” as she kindly put it. Through the night, Shiro’s arm found a new resting place around Keith’s waist more often than not, and they shared far too many small smiles and jokes to remain inconspicuous to the rest of the attendees of the exhibit, though neither noticed the attention on them.

It wasn’t until driving home that Shiro asked the question Keith knew he’d been wanting to ask all night.

“You said you wanted to go to art school as a kid — what changed?”

“Life.” Keith sighed, but he wasn’t upset by the question. “I didn’t really have a steady upbringing. Mom died before I can remember, my dad when I was seven. I was in and out of homes, a classic trouble case, you’ve seen it through your work. I always loved art, though; it honestly is the only thing that got me through some of the tougher parts of growing up. My dad used to tell me I could do anything, that I could be anything if I tried hard enough. But I guess along the road I sort of lost the belief in myself. I even stopped drawing for a few years. It wasn’t until Kolivan took a chance and brought me onto the fire crew that I really felt whole again and fell back into art. I love what I do, and I really don’t think I would have done well in an academic setting any longer than I had to. It was more of a wish back then than anything else.”

The car was quiet as Shiro took it all in and while Keith just breathed. It felt good to let Shiro know about his past, for some reason. Sure, Keith had given the minute-long version of the shitshow he considered his adolescence, but even that was … relieving in some way.

“I lost my parents when I was fifteen. Car accident. It’s how I lost my arm and got my scar. I lived with my grandparents in Kyoto for the rest of my childhood.” Keith looked over at Shiro as the man spoke, noticing how his fingers gripped the wheel a little tighter. Shiro met Keith’s gaze for a moment before looking back at the road. “Sorry, I hope that wasn’t overstepping, I just know from experience it sometimes helps to know you’re not the alone, you know?”

Keith looked out the passenger window, a small smile on his face. “Thanks for sharing, Shiro. I really mean it.”

The rest of the drive passed in a calm quiet. Before Keith could even try to get out of the car when they’d reached his apartment, Shiro, ever the gentleman, was at his door, helping him get his crutches.

Keith and Shiro walked the short way to Keith’s front door. As they neared the door, Keith stopped to dig around in his pocket for his keys.

“Thanks for everything, Shiro. I really had an amazing night.”

“I should really be thanking you. You made me look ten times more suave and cultured listing off the name, artist, and extensive background of nearly every single piece in the exhibit.”

“Oh god, was I that bad?” Keith ducked his head down, laughing at himself.

“Not at all! Honestly, it was pretty cute.” Keith stopped laughing at the word “cute” being associated with him and seeing the soft look on Shiro’s face made his stomach flip.

“Cute, huh?” Keith smirked to cover the blush spreading across his cheeks.

“Very cute,” a poorly contained smile appeared on Shiro’s face as well.

Keith was feeling gutsy. “Well, for the record, I think your pretty adorable yourself.” Now it was Shiro’s turn to blush. Keith turned to face Shiro fully. “But I mean it. Tonight was amazing. Probably one of the best nights I’ve ever had, if I’m being honest.”  

Shiro smiled, unabashedly.

Keith felt his heart skip at the stars in Shiro’s eyes, somehow so much brighter than the ones lighting the night sky above them, focused only on him.

“Hey Shiro?” Keith’s voice was barely a whisper.

“Yeah?” Equally breathless.

“Can I kiss you?”

Shiro somehow smiled even wider as he nodded and leaned down.

Eyes closed as warm lips touched, tenderly, gently. It was everything and the absence of everything that wasn’t them all at once. It was cautious and a little scared, full of the uncertainties of a first kiss, but full of the absolute devotion and adoration already flooding between their two souls.

 

Keith had grown up afraid to let himself trust, afraid of being burned by everything he dared open his heart to, and so he’d learned how to set fire to himself, prohibiting anyone from hurting him but himself. Never allowing anyone to dull his flame. He was the very essence of fire, an elemental spirit and guardian of flames themselves.

But Shiro? Shiro never tried to put out Keith’s fire. He danced alongside it, easing its pain and its melancholy, feeding it when it grew dim, admiring it when it raged. He loved the fire, and in return, the fire loved him. There were times when Keith’s flames grew a little out of control, and Shiro would find himself with burnt fingertips, but he never turned away, not once. Instead, he’d extend his hurt fingers back to the fire, slower this time, and fed it love and acceptance and understanding.

Keith would forever burn with the fire inside his veins, but every empty space was now Shiro. They were two burning galaxies, each dazzling alone, but so much stronger and all the more brilliant together.

 

Notes:

Thank you so much for reading Playing With Fire. This fic has been full of ups and downs in my real life, but it has remained a beautiful thing I will forever love. Eventually, I want to be back with a sequel following their life after their first kiss (because believe me, there is so much more of their story to tell), but this seemed like a good place to end, at least for now.

To everyone who has left beautiful comments on this fic - thank you so much. You guys are one of the reasons I keep writing. If any of you are interested in following me on my socials, my Twitter is @malloriej97 my Tumblr is @midnightruse and I am also on Instagram at @nomoremissperfect

I know there may be plot holes and things left unanswered, but your hearts know what happens <3 Keith and Shiro will forever be my loves, and I am working on more fics featuring them and more angst (and comfort, don't worry). I hope this chapter is enough <3