Chapter 19: 19. I Want to Be a Paladin

Keith

“Hi, Keith. Shiro mentioned you might stop by.” Lance is leaning against the doorframe of the building my co-stars share. Guilt prickles at me for having an entire house to myself, but I’m paying for it with the money I made from working hard. Sure, the show would provide me with housing if I requested it, but I’d have to share, and I loathe strangers in my personal space. Plus, I can afford it, and the cost we save can go toward better CGI or even catering. So why the guilty conscience?

“I meant to come sooner, but the day sort of got away from me.” There’s always something eating up my time. A call with Kolivan. Dealing with the liquor company whose face I am. Assessing new scripts. Going over the Voltron’s budget. And so on. It was already getting dark when I realized I should meet with Shiro. Technically, I guess the knowledge simmered in the back of my brain the entire time, and I procrastinated. Once I couldn’t any longer, I got on my bike and rode to Cliffcrest, where Shiro and the rest are staying. 

“Sure. Come in. Shiro just got back from the gym. I think he’s in the shower.” 

“I can wait.” 

Lance leads me to a spacious living room with a large TV mounted on the wall and a round table with some sort of board game on it. What’s that about? 

“Having a wild evening of fun and games?” I ask, trying to mask my curiosity by acting like an asshole. Lance shrugs, plopping onto a couch. He grabs one of the pieces off the table, examines it, and puts it back.

“It’s a tradition. We’ve played D&D since high school. Turns out, Hank and Allura are fans as well—I never would’ve guessed, but everyone’s into nerdy stuff these days. Anyway, we do shots every time we score a critical hit. Makes everything more fun.” 

A familiar twinge of jealousy of people forming bonds easily bites into my chest, so I nod and don’t comment further.

“Hey, Lance, is it okay if I skip the session today—oh, hey, Keith.” Shiro steps inside the living room, barefoot and wearing only grey sweatpants riding low on his hips, with a towel slung around his neck. My eyes almost explode out of my head, unsure if they should focus more on the solid wall of muscle that Shiro’s body is or on the livid network of scars covering his right shoulder and extending over the right side of his torso. 

“Jesus, Takashi, throw something on. You’re giving me a complex. And no, no skipping. Discuss whatever you need with the superstar here, and then get your ass back. Fully clothed!”

“Guess we should talk,” Shiro says, not paying much attention to Lance. Instead, he directs a crooked smile my way, sending my heart into a freefall. “Let’s go upstairs.”

Not trusting my vocal cords to produce anything other than incoherent squeaking, I follow him, trying my best not to ogle the broad back pleated with muscle, but I’m only human. Shiro was joking about preparing a training plan for me, but perhaps I should’ve taken him up on it. The guy gets results. My dick hardens, and I swivel my gaze away.

Unsurprisingly, Shiro’s room is neat, with not a speck of dust out of place. There’s a small TV on the wall, with a desk underneath. Other than that, the only furniture is a bed with a navy comforter and a white nightstand, but since actors don’t spend much time at home during a shoot, the sparse fixtures shouldn’t be a problem. 

Shiro motions for me to sit while he rummages through his dresser for a T-shirt, making me both relieved and disappointed when he finds it and tugs it down over his head. Pours into it is probably a better expression. At least he solved a mystery for me. No matter the appearance, his clothes are actual clothes, not body paint. We both settle on the bed, keeping a polite distance between us.

“Let me guess. Mike wants to recast me?” He asks, grey eyes trained on me, inscrutable. 

“Not exactly.” Not yet. 

Shiro gives a bitter laugh.

“Come on, Keith, I’m not dumb. Our scenes were a disaster. Just tell me if I should start packing.” 

“No one’s recasting you, Shiro. We just need to figure out why it’s not working and fix it.”

Shiro crosses his massive arms over his chest. My eyes snag on the play of the ropy muscles, unable to peel away. 

“I think it’s pretty obvious.” 

“Uh-huh. Sure. What is obvious?”

“You don’t like the gay romance plotline, and I’m uncomfortable about making you uncomfortable, so the whole thing is fucking awkward.”

I’m not sure if it’s Shiro cursing, which isn’t like him, or his crude, if accurate, assessment of the situation, but I burst out laughing. 

“What’s so funny?” Clearly, Shiro doesn’t share my amusement.

“Nothing. You’re right. It is awkward, but there has to be a way to move past it.” 

“What do you suggest?” 

“Not sure. Rehearsing?”

Shiro thaws a little, relaxing his posture, but a muscle still ticks in his jaw. Not entirely on board, then.

“Why did you agree to it? And don’t give me the line about the network pushing you. Ben and Mike would’ve made it work.” 

Because I couldn’t bear the idea of watching someone else touching you. Kissing you. Because I’m a selfish bastard and want that privilege for myself, even if only on screen. 

Like a moron, I almost blurt it out loud, but I change direction at the last second.

“Your words got to me. About ‘subverting the tropes’ or whatever. Nice vocab, by the way.”

“I’m not stupid. I read up on things.” There’s defensiveness in his words, which I’m guessing is unrelated to our current issues. Something to ask about later, possibly. 

“Look, Keith, obviously, I want this to work. For the first time in months, I feel like I have a purpose again, you see? Like there’s a reason for me to get out of bed in the morning. But I don’t want things to be uncomfortable, and I’m obviously new at this, so I don’t have a clue how to fix this.”

“There’s no problem that can’t be solved by rehearsing. Seriously. Contrary to popular belief, acting can be learned. Sure, talent helps, but it’s only a small part of everything, plus you have that down pat, so it’s a matter of getting more familiar with each other.”

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That’s probably something for me to work on.

“Listen, according to our call sheets, we’re not shooting till the afternoon tomorrow, so let’s meet in the morning and run through a couple of scenes together without the crew yelling at us.”

“Yeah, okay.” Shiro doesn’t sound totally convinced. “If it doesn’t work, I can always go back to Cali and search for that engineering job my ex wanted me to.” 

“How about not focusing on your ex’s opinion for once?” Shiro winces, surprised at the sharp tone of my voice. Hell, I’m surprised myself, but I’m tired of listening about that fucker who seems to have only put Shiro down. To mask the awkwardness, I clear my throat and continue: “I mean, you can do this. Sorry for making it so difficult.” 

“Maybe we both did,” Shiro says. Clearly, he’s a good guy, giving me an out. I’m not a good guy enough, so I take it, nodding and getting to my feet. 

“Glad we cleared that up. See you tomorrow.” 

We make our way downstairs, where Hank and Allura have joined Shiro’s friends, and now they’re all in the middle of a lively debate about the benefits of certain classes? Races? Beats me. I was never much into the geek stuff. Bad enough that I was a scrawny, gay kid from foster care. Adding nerdy interests to it? No, thank you. It’d just be another reason for my classmates to stick my head in the toilet. 

“Shiro, fucking finally,” Katie calls, completely ignoring me. Well, getting a reality check from time to time is good for the soul. No one here’s impressed by my celebrity status, my Emmy, or anything of the sort. Here, I’m just a co-worker, one that doesn’t belong. Cue the world’s tiniest violin.

“Don’t forget to come early tomorrow,” I say to Shiro, who’s glancing over his shoulder at the group.

“Sure thing, Keith.” The rasp of my name on his lips raises goosebumps on my arms. “Do you want to join us?” 

“For the game? No, thank you. Pretending to be something you’re not? Sounds lame,” I say, a bit more loudly than necessary.

“Dude, you realize you’re an actor, right?” Lance smirks.

“Exactly. They pay me for that, but hell if I’m doing it for fun.”

“I didn’t think you knew the meaning of the word,” Lance says and turns back to study the board, done with our exchange. 

“Come on; the pretending is the fun part. You can pick whatever role you want to play.” Shiro grins at me, and I’d do a lot more than play a nerdy game to have that smile directed my way. 

“What do you say? Are you in?” Shiro hesitates. “Although you probably have better things to do than indulge a group of geeks.” 

Debatable. I have a lot of work piled ahead, yes, but is it better? Not really, unless stalking my social media and reading nonsense about me in tabloids counts, but I don’t volunteer that information. Shiro doesn’t need a peek under the celebrity facade.

“No, I’ll do it. Teach me how to play, grandmaster.” 

Once we’ve settled down, Katie measures us with a stern look. The couch where we’re sitting was designed to seat fewer people, so Shiro and I have to squish together to fit in. I find it difficult to focus on Katie’s instructions with Shiro’s body heat seeping into me.

“Let’s make one thing clear. I’m the grand—or rather, dungeon—master here. Not mister ‘I want to be a Paladin again’ sitting next to you.”

“But it’s fun, being a Paladin. I can’t imagine anything more fulfilling,” Shiro says, unperturbed.

“You literally play a paladin on a TV show now, Shiro. Mix it up a little.” 

“Nah, I’m good.” 

“Tough. This isn’t a democracy. Hank, give him that.” Katie yanks out the book that Hank’s been studying, ignoring all of us, and throws it at Shiro.

“Pick something else than a Paladin, Papa Bear. Help Keith choose, too. I assume you don’t know the rules?”

“That’d be correct.”

“Well, the most important thing to remember is that the Dungeon Master’s word is law.” 

“You run a tight ship,” Allura chimes in. “I approve.” It’s a little surprising that Allura, who looks like a supermodel, with her platinum hair and perfect complexion—because she used to be one before she switched to acting—would be interested in this sort of game, but I guess that’s awfully judge-y on my part. 

“I don’t like any of these classes,” Shiro says, frowning as he rifles through the manual. His pout is more adorable than it has any right to be.

“Pick, or I’ll pick something for you.” 

“Fine. A mage, then.” 

“Duly noted. Keith? Do you need to go over the class description?”

“Unnecessary. I’m playing as Paladin.” 

Katie groans. “Ugh, there’s two of them,” but I ignore her, focused instead on the smile Shiro sends me that makes my heart beat a mile a minute, confirming I made the right choice.

And not just for my D&D class.

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