Chapter 1: One Last Dance

Keith's POV

The beat of the music is almost deafening, drowning out my thoughts as I stare at the bubbles rising to the surface of my drink. Anything to avoid thinking about my impending departure without even catching up with Shiro. Denial is supposed to be bliss, but it scratches at me with rusty little claws, each scrape spelling coward, coward across my heart. 

I shake my head, observing the strobe lights reflecting off my glass before I bring it to my lips and down the entire thing. It hits the back of my throat, cool and sweet but without the bite of ethanol, a refreshing taste in the stifling room full of laughter and noise and gyrating bodies.

The party started off dignified, almost somber, but as the night progressed and alcohol disappeared from bottles into bloodstreams, things unraveled, growing wilder and louder. People are laughing, the sound a note too sharp to be genuine, almost as if they’re afraid that if they stop, the silence will cloak them in sadness. No one wants to think today. Everyone’s trying their hardest to enjoy themselves, to forget about those who can’t be here with us, and they attempt to do so by burying their sorrow in booze, music, and each other.

Wow. Even celebrating the end of the war, I’m a grouch. No wonder I’m stuck in a corner, sipping freaking apple cider alone. It’s time to leave, anyway. I have an early start tomorrow, and since we already said our goodbyes with the Paladins, nothing is keeping me here. No one will miss me, either. If I hit the bed now, I can snatch several hours of decent shut-eye, which should serve me better than sitting here and staring at everyone having fun from the sidelines. I set the glass aside and stretch, preparing to take off when someone plops their ass on the chair next to me.

“Whatcha brooding about?” 

Lance. Who else would dare to interrupt my alone time? Instead of spending the evening with Allura, he chooses to annoy me. 

“I don’t brood.”

“Please, Keith. Your photo is in every dictionary next to the entry ‘broody’. Also, I think I saw it next to a ‘hot-head.’“

“It’s called people watching and quiet reflecting, emphasis on quiet. Something you’re not familiar with,” I say, ignoring the ‘hot-head’ remark. It used to be true, but not so much anymore.

“Ah, there’s the grump we all know and love. So, who are you watching?”

“Not sure. Everyone. No one in particular.” 

As if on cue, my eyes fall on the towering figure of the Atlas admiral and my former best friend. A head taller than most people, he’s easy to spot in the crowd, and not only because his white hair shines like a beacon, but also because of the gaggle of people around him, hanging on his every word. No surprise there. Everyone adores Takashi Shirogane, the admiral of the sentient Atlas, the hero of the war to end all wars. At least half of the Atlas crew has a crush on him, too.

I spot Curtis among the flock of admirers, staring at Shiro with cartoon hearts in his eyes. Figures. He could give me a run for my money at being desperately in love with Shiro, but I’d win by default based on the length of my obsession. Shame I’d only win a trophy for the biggest loser.

“Well?” Lance elbows me in the arm. “Gonna finally do something ‘bout that?” His words are slurred, courtesy of one too many drinks.

There’s no point in pretending I don’t know what, or rather, who Lance’s talking about, despite never discussing the state of my heart with him. We’ve been friends for too long, and he knows me too well. Not that I’d ever admit that to his smug face.

 “What do you suggest? Going over there, falling to my knees, and confessing my undying love for him in front of everyone?”

“Sure, that’d do the trick. Please do that, I beg you. I want to see that. See that, make videos, and upload it on the stream for everyone to enjoy. Or you could, you know, ask him to dance. Bring him out on the roof to watch the stars. Definitely where I’m bringing Allura right after I finish talking to you.”

“Then I’m not going anywhere near the roof,” I say. “In fact, I’m headed to bed.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. What would be the point of saying anything to Shiro? I’m leaving tomorrow, and he doesn’t feel that way about me. I’d only embarrass myself and ruin what’s left of our friendship. Not that there’s much.”

“Well, you never know. Look at me; what if I never asked Allura out? We’d never have our love story for the ages.”

“Except I do know. Things were different for you guys.”

“Suit yourself, I guess, but I think it’s dumb to leave without talking to him.”

Allura appears at the entrance, shining white in the sea of half-drunks, and Lance’s whole body lights up. Ugh. Disgusting.

“Sorry, Keith, gotta go. The love of my life is waiting for me. Don’t be a stranger.”

“Yeah, yeah.” 

I watch him leave with a twinge of jealousy. They make a great couple with Allura, so we’re all happy for them, but seeing them together reminds me that out of our Paladin group, I’m the only one left alone. My eyes roam the mass of people, searching for my friends. Hunk is huddled at a table with Shay, heads bent together as they sample canapes and laugh. Lance’s brought Allura to the dance floor where they’re impersonating a weird new life-form: a human-Altean octopus. Pidge is dancing with… Beezer, okay, that’s adorable, and Shiro —

“Hey, Keith.” A honey-like voice wraps around my chest and squeezes. 

Shiro is right here, hovering above me. “Why are you sitting here all alone? You should be celebrating. We won.” He grins at me, and right on cue, my heart stutters. It’s always been the case. Shiro’s the only person in the entire universe affecting me so. Everyone else, I could take or leave, but one smile from him, and I’m a puddle of heated caramel, all gooey and soft inside. So, after many years of unrequited pining, I decided the only antidote to his charm was leaving forever. Which I should do right about… now.

“I was just heading out.” 

“Oh.” A flicker of disappointment crosses Shiro’s face, full of wild glee until now. Impossible. He doesn’t want to spend the night with me. Throughout the evening, he barely spared me a glance. Hell, throughout the year. After returning to Earth and taking over the war efforts, we stayed professional, and yeah, he was a picture of politeness and efficiency when we had to work together, but our easygoing friendship all but sputtered and died under the insane amount of pressure. The price of growing up, I suppose. People drift apart, and some relationships don’t survive the crucible of adulthood. But it fucking stings, being dismissed by the person I used to think painted the sky blue.

“Before you leave, we should dance.”

“Huh?”

“Dance.” He motions toward the floor. “With me. Please, Keith?” 

“You’re joking. I don’t dance.”

“You do tonight.” Not giving me a chance to refuse again, he grabs my hand and drags me toward the dance floor, bumping into people on the way as he tries to halt my escape and navigate us to an empty spot among the dancers. Everyone we knock into turns around, glaring daggers until they catch sight of Shiro, and then immediately soften, letting him through. He’s always been commanding and charismatic, but today, with the pressure lifted off him, it’s as though fireworks went off inside him. He’s lighter than usual, more full of life. With his flushed cheeks, untamed hair, and eyes wild and blazing with furious joy, he’s magnetic. Being off-duty suits him, and I can’t tear my gaze away, even to save my life, everyone else in the room, and an orphanage full of kittens.

The dance floor is filled with people rocking to the rhythm of a fast song, jerking around and gyrating against each other. Someone more generous would call it an unrestrained celebration of life. I call it a lack of self-awareness brought on by too much booze. Music pulsates in fast waves around us, so loud I can almost touch it, and the flashing lights blind me with a kaleidoscope of colors. Shiro wastes no time in bringing us to the center of the undulating mass and starts moving like water to whatever’s playing.

Fuck. In all the years we’ve known each other, I’ve never seen him dance. The way he moves is sinful, liquid grace in every sway of his hips and a challenge in every tilt of those full lips I dreamed about kissing endless times. He’s wearing his Atlas uniform, but it became open at the collar during the evening, so I can glimpse the broad expanse of his muscled chest underneath.

I have to look elsewhere. Anywhere. The ceiling looks lovely. It’s wonderful what the Garrison put up as decorations at such short notice, giving it the appearance of a night sky.

Shiro rests a hand on my side, dragging my attention back to him as he brings me closer. 

“Relax, Keith. Have some fun.”

“This is not my idea of fun.” I wave at the crowd. Someone whirls too near and knocks into me with their ass. Kill me now, please.

“How about this?” 

Shiro lays his other hand on my hip and tugs me closer, prompting my body to lean into the beat of the song. This is Shiro, as I don’t know him, without the burden of responsibility dragging him down. Unrestrained. Carefree. Full of joy, and it’s fucking glorious.

“You’re drunk.”

“Only a bit tipsy. There you go. I’ve seen you move on the battlefield, so I know you’re not usually this stiff.” His eyes are heavy-lidded, holding promises I don’t let myself hope for. Abruptly, the music cuts off, followed by deafening silence, and the sudden change leaves me lightheaded. Well, the change and Shiro’s proximity, the way he looks at me with dark eyes and hunger etched on his face. His hands are glued to my body, moving up and down my sides, and I have to bite back the moan building in my throat. Since when does he touch me in this way? Those are not friendly touches; no, those are long, intimate strokes meant to spark fire in my gut.

“Okay, we danced. It was fun. Sort of. Now I really need to go.”

“One more dance, Keith. Come on, we barely caught the last thirty seconds of this one. Doesn’t count.” 

“It very much does,” I say, turning on my heel, but Shiro expects my move, catches me, and spins me to him until he enfolds me in a tight embrace, arms banded around me and cheek pressed against mine.

“Don’t argue with your admiral. One more dance,” he whispers into my ear. “Then you’re free to go.” 

He’s holding me close, so close I can smell his cologne, something fresh and citrusy that makes me want to lick the scent off his skin. It also makes it impossible to refuse him.

“Fine.”

This time, he doesn’t release his hold to let me step away so we can dance without touching. No, when the new song, a slow and mournful ballad, plays from the speakers, he pulls me flush with him, snaking an arm around my waist while the other loops around my back. He tucks his chin over my shoulder, letting out a happy sigh that rattles through my bones. This dance doesn’t require any skill, only moving in sync with your partner, so I force my body to loosen, force myself to melt into Shiro, and after a while, our movement becomes easy and natural. His hands are roaming my back, skimming my hips, igniting mini-fires on my skin everywhere he touches me. 

“You’re having fun. Admit it.” The deep rumble of his voice brings on too many thoughts I shouldn’t entertain pressed into Shiro like this when he can notice every shift and pulse in my body.

“I don’t know the meaning of the word.”

“My fierce warrior, always so serious.” Shiro’s words emerge almost like a purr, his voice ghosting over my ear. What is his game? Did he decide to torture me before we part ways forever? Did he lose a bet? Why is he doing this? His hands abandon their exploration of my back and slide lower to rest on my ass. Heat crawls up my neck as I pry him off without a word and set his palms on my waist. He frowns but doesn’t protest. After a while, he repeats the action, this time using it to grind our hips together.

I let out a startled yelp.

“What the hell, Shiro? Hands above the waistline!”

“Spoilsport.” He pouts, he fucking pouts, all cute and adorable, but moves his hands up. 

“What’s gotten into you tonight? Are you that drunk?”

“Not really. I know what I’m doing, Keith.” His breath hits my mouth, and I steel myself against second-hand booze if that’s even a thing, but I can only detect mint and the slightest hint of wine. Huh. But if he’s telling the truth, why is he acting like a plastered idiot? Why is he unable to keep his hands to himself?

The song floats around us, wrapping us into a sad melody. It tells the story of lovers meeting through ages, then drifting apart again. I’m not the most emotional person, but tonight, tears spring to my eyes, and I bury my head in Shiro’s chest, which he uses as a pretext for nuzzling into my neck. 

Tomorrow, I’m going to leave him, and we might not meet again. Despite our victory against Zarkon and Haggar, the universe is not a safe place. Not yet, and maybe it won’t ever be, so this might be the last time we see each other, and the thought makes my throat all itchy.

You are reading story One Last Dance at novel35.com

Shiro’s hands drag higher, one banding around my chest, the other threading into my hair.

“I said—”

“Hey, I’m keeping my hands above your waist.”

“Just hold me like you would a dance partner.”

“This is how I would hold a dance partner.” He squeezes me tighter, and I’m about to dissolve into a mushy puddle, unable to protest anymore because it feels so fucking good. He’s large and warm and solid against me. Would it be so terrible to let go for a while? To enjoy the evening? To stop questioning what brought on this outburst of affection? Don’t I deserve to be held for a moment by the man I love? Once the last note sounds, our time together will end, and we’ll go our separate ways, but at least I get to carry the memory of our bodies moving together in sync to the furthest reaches of the universe. 

Shiro rubs circles over my shoulder blades as we gently rock against each other, and my arms loop behind his back, bodies molding together and hearts beating wildly.

This time, I’m disappointed when the music fades, but I pull back anyway. Shiro doesn’t budge an inch, keeping still and watching me with blazing eyes. He has the most ridiculous eyelashes, a thick curtain framing the soft grey of his irises that I want to press my cheeks against. Crazy. Maybe the cider was spiked and went into my head. 

The evening cast a strange spell over both of us. It’s not as if there’s more to Shiro’s behavior than relief at surviving and perhaps a bit of melancholy about my departure. After all, we’ve been together in some way, as friends, as brothers at arms, as fighters against evil, for almost eight years now. That’s the end of an era, and I guess it’s hitting hard. Flattering but meaningless.

“Good night, Shiro.” 

He opens his mouth when a voice from the speakers interrupts him.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s almost midnight, so this will be our last song today.”

“Come on, Keith. One last dance?” 

“I shouldn’t.” 

“Why? Do you turn into a pumpkin when the clock strikes twelve?”

“No, but I have to get up so early tomorrow it’s indecent.”

“Please. For old times’ sake.”

“We never danced together in the old times, old timer, but fine. Only because it’s probably our last time together.”

A muscle ticks in his jaw, the twinge visible even in the flickering light. Shiro doesn’t reply, but the way he yanks me close is full of possessiveness, bordering on desperation, and once the music starts playing, his hands travel over my body as if I’m his personal atlas. Our movement slows down to basically standing in place with Shiro stroking me, caressing me, his hands mapping every muscle and groove he can reach. 

“Shiro,” I manage a quiet protest, but there’s no heat in it. Not when every touch sends zips of electricity licking along my spine, leaving goosebumps and bone-melting need behind. Not even when his hand dips under my t-shirt and splays across the hot skin of my belly, causing the taut muscle to bunch under his touch. 

“Say the word, and I’ll stop. Say you don’t feel anything for me.” His voice in my ear is a feral growl as his fingers dig into my sides.

“Say you don’t care,” he punctuates his words with a roll of his hips, grinding into me, not hiding that he’s hard. No, he crowds my body, his rigid length pressing into me, setting my blood on fire. He’s letting me feel his arousal, making sure I know how my proximity affects him, and the knowledge is heady. A pathetic mewling sound drops from my lips, and Shiro lets out a groan before fastening his lips to my throat. 

“Say there isn’t a pull between us.”

He’s kissing my neck, using his tongue and teeth to drive me out of my mind with need, skimming over the tight tendons and rigid muscles while his hips keep undulating against me. Every nerve ending, every synapse, is overloaded to bursting. How long can I hold out against the onslaught on my senses? Never in my wildest dreams have I imagined being with Shiro like this, and my restraint is crumbling under his touch, his scent, under the way he trails kisses along my jaw.

“Shiro,” I breathe out, and the sound of his name snaps me back to reality.

“Shiro, stop.” From the pain in his eyes, I can see this isn’t what he expected. He comes to a halt, withdrawing his hands and holding them stiffly at his sides.

“I’m sorry. Seems like I misread some things.”

My lips are a scorched desert, and no matter how much I lick them, it doesn’t help, probably because my mouth went drier than a scaultrite cookie.

“You haven’t… misread anything, but I don’t understand. Why now, Shiro? What changed? Is it because I’m leaving? Absence makes the heart fonder and all that crap? I mean, you barely spoke to me the entire last year. You barely even looked at me.” 

“Keith.” People around us are still moving, too lost in the dance to pay us any attention despite us getting into everyone’s way by standing motionless in the middle of the sea of writhing bodies. 

“Things got complicated after you brought me back from the Black lion’s void. My head was scrambled, and I was pretty out of it, unable to tell my memories apart from the clone’s. Then we returned to Earth, and suddenly it wasn’t just the five of us in the Castle. No, I was heading a major military organization with so much hanging on my every decision, so I wanted to appear professional. I couldn’t afford to show preferential treatment to anyone, but it was hell, Keith. Do you know how many times I wanted to reach out to you? How many times I had to convince myself not to sneak into your cabin at night? How many times I wanted to fall asleep with you in my arms, telling me everything would be okay? How much I worried and also burst with pride every time you did something insane and dangerous and brave?”

Blood rushes into my cheeks during Shiro’s explanation, my heart trashing around my ribcage, a wild animal trying to escape. Shiro’s robotic hand splays on my cheek, cool against the heated skin. 

“You were going to be my reward, Keith. I promised myself that if we won, I’d tell you how I felt, and the thought kept me going. And we won, Keith. We won the war, and we’re free now. Free to say what we want. Be with the people we love. Do what we want. And I really, really want to do this.”

He cups the other side of my face with his human hand, and then his mouth descends on mine. The pressure fries my brain, putting my thought processes out of commission, but who needs to think when Shiro kisses me like a man starved, like he was surviving on crumbs for the past year, and now he can eat his fill? His tongue surges into my mouth, rubbing against mine, velvety hot and delicious. All doubts forgotten, we’re kissing desperately, endlessly, ignoring the people bumping into us, then receding, giving us space. I unzip his uniform and sneak my hands underneath, finally getting to touch him as well. He arches into my palms, a quiet moan falling from his lips as we keep tasting each other. 

A couple of wolf-whistles ring out, but they’re background noise. Unimportant. Buzzing flies. Shiro releases me for a second to gasp for air but then crashes his mouth back to mine with renewed ferocity. When the music stops, our mouths slowly unglue, but our gazes, our bodies, everything else remains interlocked. We’re two pieces of a puzzle finally slotting into the right place. A key fitting into its lock. Two people finding their homes in each other. 

The corners of Shiro’s mouth lift.

“I’m in love with you, Keith.” 

“I’ve been in love with you for a long time, Shiro.” 

“Is this a competition? Because I love you more.”

“No. Not a close one, in any case.” 

A laugh vibrates from him.

“You might have gotten a head start, but I’ve loved you for a while now.”

“Really?” It’s difficult to believe. “Since when?”

“Since I came back to Earth.”

“That long?”

“Yeah. You kidnapped me from the Garrison and brought me to that shack in the desert. When I woke up, you were sitting next to my bed, watching over me. Our eyes met, and it was like getting sucker punched with joy straight in the heart. It didn’t take much to figure out why.” 

To mask the stinging moisture gathering in my eyes, I smack his chest with the back of my palm.

“Ouch! What was that for?”

“Next time, say something sooner. You’d save us both a lot of pining.”

“Can I get that in writing? That you pined for me?”

“You’re ridiculous, Shiro.”

“I don’t deny it.” He leans in to nip at my neck, then whispers in my ear. “But I am also yours.”

A violent shiver I can’t stop rolls through me, and then my mouth is crashing to his, tongues plunging, tangling together, hands desperate to touch and explore.

One by one, people filter out of the room, abandoning us on the dance floor. In a while, the cleaning crew will arrive to take over, but for the moment, we’re alone in the soft gloom, eyes trained on each other, drinking in every detail, every muscle twitch, every lip tilt.

“Keith. Stay with me. Don’t leave. Please.” Raw emotion sneaks into Shiro’s voice, and there’s nothing I can deny him when I hear him so open and vulnerable. If he asked me to climb the highest Mountain on Daibazaal or fight a pack of Yalmor with my bare hands, I’d do it just to keep him happy.

“I’ll stay with you for as long as you’ll have me.”

“Forever, then,” he says with a fierce nod.

“Forever it is,” I say, trying to calm down my heart, thumping painfully against my breastbone, and failing. I spent a large part of my life trying to escape reality, never putting down roots, but some things are worth staying for. Shiro is worth staying for.

Without another word, he gathers me closer and starts moving us. I sway along with him, and together, we’re dancing in the dark to a melody only we can hear.

It’s a song of rapid heartbeats and whispered confessions.

A song of secret longings, covert glances, and fulfilled wishes.

A song that will carry us through the quiet stretches of life, when arguments and worry will threaten to take over.

This moment hangs suspended between realities, undisturbed and impossibly beautiful. I know that eventually, the dawn will come, and with it, problems and demands on our time. There will be issues to solve and duties to fulfill, but they can all wait because right now, we’re dancing together, and everything is perfect.

THE END

You can find story with these keywords: One Last Dance, Read One Last Dance, One Last Dance novel, One Last Dance book, One Last Dance story, One Last Dance full, One Last Dance Latest Chapter