Every night is a new story.

Shiro and Keith are florists, baristas, musicians, thieves; they meet in parks and laundromats and bookstores and on battlefields. The context changes, the relationship changes, but they find love every single time.

The dreams are so much better than his usual nightmares; Shiro finds himself actually looking forward to sleep. He keeps them quiet, carefully guarded, but he treasures each one. His mind wanders back to them over and over.

All it takes is a moment for him to slip.

With a rare lull in their never-ending fight, the paladins hit the training deck and go back to their roots. They sit in a tight circle, sinking deep into a mind-melding exercise. They focus on the Lions, on Voltron, on their shared connection.

And then Keith's hand brushes against Shiro's.

Shiro's heart judders and his concentration lapses. In just a split-second, his carefully constructed mental walls break down, and every life he's ever dreamed about comes pouring out, flooding the mind link.

He tries in vain to rein them back in, but it's too late; he's trying to hold smoke. Like a scarf trick, the dreams pull all his tangled emotions out with them—the longing, the anticipation, the constant desire.

The others see everything.

Shiro yanks off his headset, blood thrumming in his ears, stomach churning with abject mortification. In the corner of his eye, he can see the other paladins staring at him, gaping. Keith has gone utterly still beside him.

"Okay. Good training session, everyone. Dismissed," he says, faintly, as he gets to his feet. Absolutely not making eye contact with Keith, he walks out of the room.

He can't tell if his heart is racing at a million beats per minute or if it's stopped entirely. He's barely aware of his surroundings, barely aware of what he's doing or where he's going.

His feet bring him to the star deck. He takes a seat and draws his legs to his chest. Staring out at the starscape beyond, he tries to think of how he can possibly explain this to Keith.

He hasn't thought of a single thing by the time familiar footsteps announce Keith's presence. Of course Keith finds him. He always does.

Keith takes a seat in the small gap between Shiro and the window, his back to the stars. He's so close their knees are just shy of touching. He won't be ignored. "So."

Shiro swallows, his mouth gone dry.

"I liked the bakery one," Keith says, a slight smirk hanging on his lips.

Shiro ducks his head and winces, blood rushing from his heart to his cheeks to the tips of his ears. Just let him die, already.

"Keith, I… I'm sorry you had to see that," he says, hoping in vain the ground will swallow him whole. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, and I know this might put you in an awkward position. Can we just… can we just pretend this never happened? I don't want this to change things between us."

"I don't think so. It already has," Keith says. His violet eyes are intense. "Shiro, are you in love with me?"

Direct and to the point, as always. Shiro can't lie or evade; there's no room for half-truths. "Yes," he whispers.

He's not prepared for Keith's response. He's not prepared for when Keith leans forward and wraps his arms around him, warm and insistent. "I'm so glad." His voice is soft, his smile softer.

"…What?"

"You heard me," Keith says. "I love you too, Shiro. I have for years."

"You… have?" Shiro asks, incredulous.

"Shiro," Keith sighs, his voice impossibly fond. "I've loved you in every lifetime. Why would this one be any different?"

In quiet disbelief, Shiro smiles into his shoulder, sinking into his embrace.

"You know, I've been having some of the same dreams over the past few months," Keith says.

"They must've been leaking through the mind link with Voltron. Or maybe the Black Lion," Shiro hazards.

"Maybe," Keith shrugs. "Maybe it's something more."

"You believe in that kind of thing?" Shiro asks, despite himself. "Reincarnation? Destiny? A future written in the stars?"

"I dunno," Keith says. "But I believe in you and me, here and now." He reaches for Shiro's hand, interlacing their fingers together. His hand is rough and warm and familiar. It feels like they've done this a thousand times before.

"Do you?" Keith asks.

"Do I what?"

"Believe we could be together," Keith says. "Do you believe me, when I tell you I love you? Because I know you, Shiro. You're as stubborn as I am, and once you have an idea in your head, it's not easy to convince you otherwise, no matter how unreasonable that idea might be. So tell me. Do I love you?"

It's something Shiro hadn't dared to hope for. He's still not sure this is really happening. But Keith says he does, and Shiro trusts him with everything he has. "Yes."

"Say it."

"Yes, you love me."

"Now say it like you mean it."

Shiro laughs. "You love me."

"Again."

Shiro shakes his head with an affectionate smile. "How many times are you gonna make me say it?"

"As many times as it takes to clear any doubt from your mind," Keith says. He presses a kiss to Shiro's lips: an affirmation, a guarantee, the start of something new and old. "I love you, Shiro. Don't ever forget."