Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Keith is good at what he does, okay. 

He had dreams, okay. 

Four years of film school, okay. 

It’s been his passion ever since he was a kid, all gangly limbs climbing up trees to find the best shot of the sunset. He’s been doing this for years. 

And now he gets paid for it. 

Do what you love and you never work a day in your life, as they say. 

Well. 

*

Keith stares expressionless at the screen as he pulls forward for a closeup of the man currently beating himself off with vigor. Camera lights are set up in what feels like every available space, raising the room temperature by several degrees higher than normal. And the smell. God, the smell. It took weeks before he could walk into the room without gagging. 

But Keith is good at what he does, so he inches closer. Tilts a little. His priority is to make the shot aesthetically pleasing, at least to the studio’s standards, and so he hones in on a shot of the dick as the focus and the rest of the actor lounging in the background. Hand squelching in lube, practically blurring over his cock as the man’s breathing hitches over and over—

Ah, he’s going to cum far too soon. 

Keith retreats the camera just in time as the actor bursts his load. He’s done this enough times to save the equipment from wayward spunk, and no, he does not like reliving the days he first had to learn. 

“Dude,” comes a voice to his right, the director leaning back in his chair and frowning.

“I know,” says the actor, catching his breath. “I know.” He wipes a hand over his face, pushing back hair dotted by sweat. Probably formed more from the heat of the room than by actual arousal. He stretches, cracking his neck. “Give me ten, I can get hard again.”

“You better,” says the director, a tall, stocky man named Allen, whose sense of fashion could be best described as ‘nerdy lumberjack.’ “We need at least half an hour of more footage to work with.” He sighs. “All right, guys. Take ten.”

Keith immediately returns to his equipment cases and attentively sets his camera and attachments inside, then heads on over to the snack table before anyone else can make it. It's Sound Guy’s turn to bring refreshments today, and he always gets the best doughnuts. Keith picks one with pink frosting and sprinkles and stuffs it into his mouth. 

Allen comes up from behind and picks a bear claw from the selection. “After this, we got a new guy coming. No experience with porn whatsoever, but he's got a certain look to him.”

“Oh,” says Keith, not really interested. Inexperienced guys usually mean they don't know how to stay hard or cum on command, which means extra hours of working as everyone tries to guide them through it and show them the ropes. And Keith has never been known for his patience. 

Allen likes to hear himself talk, so he keeps going. “Must be a veteran or something. Built like an ox, but missing his right arm. Didn't seem to want to talk about it, but whatever. That kind of thing is a fetish for some people, you know? Amputees. Though he insisted I agree not to talk to him about it on camera, or else he wouldn't come.”

Keith just focuses on chewing his food. 

“Also Asian, Japanese or something. Ticks off quite a few boxes that should bring some more views in. So let’s try to be patient with him if he doesn't immediately have a handle on things.”

“Got it,” says Keith. 

*

Takashi Shirogane, or “Shiro” as he's chosen for his stage name, is indeed over six feet worth or pure muscle. He wears a light grey henley that’s far too tight and khaki slacks, something easy for him to pull himself out of when the time comes. He introduces himself with a charming smile, shaking hands with all of the crew members, including Keith. A prosthetic arm bulges out from his right shoulder, the fingers tucked into one of his pockets. Shiro holds it so casually, Keith may not have noticed it at all if he didn’t already know. Keith idly wonders if there’s a fetish for prosthetics specifically.

Probably. If Keith’s learned one thing from his time doing porn, it's that there is a fetish for everything. 

“Thanks for having me here,” Shiro says with soft grey eyes. “As it's my first time, I'm a little nervous. I hope I won't disappoint.”

“Honey if you've got a cock and you know how to play with it, that's all we need,” states Allen. “Why don't you take a seat over there and show us what you've got.”

Shiro sits down at the couch Keith filmed a man beating off on not even an hour ago. With permission, Keith goes ahead and starts filming.

The first part of the video is simply an introduction, one they do with all of their actors. Name, age, where they're from, all that good stuff. It's a way of getting the actors closer with their audience, show that they're regular human beings just like everyone else. 

Shiro is from Arizona, which isn't all that surprising. Most people who get into professional porn are already either in California or near enough. Keith himself is also from Arizona.

“But where are you really from,” Allen asks with a glint in his eye.

The corner of Shiro’s mouth twitches. “My parents immigrated from Brazil,” he says after a long pause.

Allen blinks. “Brazil? But you don't look—,”

“Shiro can you lean back a little bit,” Keith cuts off, effectively making the question useless for putting in the final cut of the video. “You're stiff.”

“Ah, yeah, try to look a bit more casual and relaxed,” Allen agrees, and thankfully appears to forget his train of thought. 

Shiro obeys instruction and lounges back, splaying his legs wide to show off his impressive bulge and draping his left arm over the back of the couch. His prosthetic stays tucked in his pocket. Like this, he looks more relaxed and confident in his body, something that will always be appreciated by viewers. Keith’s focus is on the picture inside the camera, so he doesn't notice at first that Shiro is looking directly at him. 

Keith looks up. Shiro gives him a grateful smile.

Allen moves on to asking him about his hobbies.

“Well, jerking off, obviously,” Shiro chuckles. “But other than that, I like to go stargazing in the desert, and use my motorcycle to get there.”

Keith’s ears prick up at ‘motorcycle.’ He's got a baby of his own, a sleek red beauty he likes to call Kitty Rose, and, like all parents with their children, Keith will take any and every opportunity to gush about her. He briefly wonders what kind Shiro has, but quickly mutes his thoughts. He's at a job right now, and he doesn't get close with any of his coworkers. 

“Romantic,” quips Allen. “Ever took someone on a date there?”

“Once or twice,” Shiro says.

The questions then start to get a little more personal, on an intimate scale. 

“Are you straight? Bi? Gay?”

“Gay, definitely.”

“When did you first know?”

“There wasn't really a moment that changed from ‘not knowing’ to ‘knowing.’ I was always more naturally drawn to men. I liked looking at their bodies. There were a few other guys at school who were out at the time, so…”

“So you fooled around with them?”

“Yeah.” Shiro laughs a little at the memory, rubbing the back of his neck.

Allen smiles, leaning forward. “Why don't you take your shirt off for us, and answer a few more questions.”

Shiro does so, without any hindrance from his prosthetic. It moves just as well as any other arm, and Keith inches closer to get a better picture for the camera. The man’s skin is smooth, tight over well-defined muscles, and a few small moles here and there. Dark hair spreads lightly over his chest, his nipples small and brown and—

And—

His pecs. Keith has long since been desensitized to working with porn actors but one thing that will always make him weak are good tits. The ultimate reason he is bisexual. 

Tig ol’ bitties. 

And Shiro, he’s got some huge boobs. 

I mean some serious honkers.

A real set of badonkers. 

Packin’ some dobonhonkeros. 

Massive dohoonkabhankoloos. 

Big old—

“You can start touching yourself, playing around a bit while you answer these next questions,” Allen says, interrupting Keith’s thoughts. “We’ll edit this out so it looks like you just get naturally horny when reminiscing, okay?”

“Got it,” says Shiro. 

“So, what was your first time like?” 

Shiro leans back against the couch, displaying his Greek god body in its full glory. “It wasn't really anything to write home about,” he says, “traded handjobs with a guy I barely knew in the locker room after school. I came almost immediately after he touched me.” He smiles, a little embarrassed.

“What about your first time fucking?”

“Oh, oh. Yeah I uh, I had a friend over, and we were watching a show where one of the characters came out as gay. My friend wasn't out, but he started talking about it, and one thing led to another…”

“Did you top or bottom?”

“Topped. But again, it wasn't anything to write home about.”

Allen smirks teasingly. “Did you cum too fast again?”

Shiro belts out a laugh. “Yeah, I did.”

“Well, hopefully you've got a bit more stamina for us, right?”

“Right. Definitely.”

“Do you always top?”

“No, I mean with my build, people tend to assume I always top, but I do like to bottom too. I like being manhandled by someone strong…” His hand drifts over to his chest, fingers rubbing absently over one of his nipples. 

“Well, I'm sure we can arrange that for you here.” Allen nods at Keith, who zooms the picture in on Shiro’s hand, before slowly dragging it down over the rest of his body. He pauses over the bulge in his pants, and then follows the path of body hair back up to Shiro. His grey eyes are focused on the camera again. 

No—no, they're on Keith. 

Keith’s brow furrows a little, but he keeps on filming. 

Shiro cups himself next, squeezing a little, when Allen goes on to ask him more about his sexual history. His best experience, his turn ons, the kind of guy he likes. Allen instructs him to pull himself out, and yeah, definitely confirmed for the right kind of cock in this industry. Shiro’s absolutely huge, well proportioned to the rest of his body. He strokes himself to hardness, and Keith makes sure to capture the redness of the head, the veins along the shaft, the dot of precum at his slit. 

“I'm going to go ahead and ask what we’ve all been wondering,” Allen says after a while, eyes trailing down toward Shiro’s prosthetic arm.

Shiro tenses in his seat. 

Allen gestures to Shiro’s pecs. “Can you make those babies dance?”

Shiro releases a breath disguised as a laugh, and visibly relaxes. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I can.” 

He flexes each pec one after another, making them bounce as he shows off for the camera. That gets a good-hearted chuckle from a lot of crew members in the room.

After that, Allen asks him to stroke himself, so they can get several minutes of footage before letting Shiro cum. Doesn't matter how big someone's cock is, if they can't cum and get hard on demand, they won't last long in this industry.

Shiro follows directions aptly, if anything, twisting his wrist and rolling his balls in his fingers whenever prompted. Keith gets him from several different angles; up front, from the side, over his shoulder, right up between his legs. He can feel Shiro’s eyes the whole time, but plenty of new actors are distracted by cameras at first. Some of them even have a thing for being watched. He doesn't mull it over. 

Once they've got enough footage, Allen asks, “Think you can cum for us right now?” and Shiro works himself over for about a minute before he's shooting, his voice low and rough as he continues to stroke over his messy cock until it comes out in a dribble. He leans his head back, sighing. Keith catches the curve of his neck on camera. 

“Very good,” Allen says with all the emotion of someone looking over a grocery list. “Take a minute and see if you can't get hard for us again.”

It takes more than a minute, but Shiro does, and they get some more angles in for a while before letting him cum once again.

Keith can tell Allen likes Shiro, and expects to see him around.

*

Shiro is featured on their website as the “Newcummer of the Week” once the video has been edited and uploaded. It gets views, more than new guys usually attract. The comments all agree that he's hot. He comes back a couple of days later and they shoot another solo scene.

Keith doesn't think of him more or less than any of the other actors he works with. He does notice that it takes a few visits for Shiro to really start coming out of his shell, to show more of his personality once he becomes comfortable. He's nice and humble, but gradually grows more confident with himself as time goes on. 

That is to say, he flirts with the camera.

A lot.

Today is another solo scene, but with just a bit of story added. Shiro’s a regular guy who climbs into bed, watches porn, and jerks off. A little bit more than just a plain masturbating session on the couch. But the general idea is that Shiro is doing this all alone, without any voyeur. 

They're in the bedroom, all focused on Shiro and the laptop playing one of their own porn videos. Shiro’s got his clothes half-off, cock in hand and stroking steadily. It's all going fine.

Except for one thing.

He keeps looking at the camera. 

“You're by yourself, Shiro,” Allen reminds him. “Try not to look at the camera.”

“Sorry,” Shiro says, but he doesn't look very sorry. He turns back to the porn on screen.

Keith continues filming, getting his broad angles and sharp jawline. When he gets to Shiro’s eyes, he notices they're on him again.

“Shiro.”

“Sorry,” he says again.

“Is something wrong?”

“Just like looking.”

“At the camera?”

Shiro shakes his head. “No. At him.”

The room falls silent as one by one, each crew member turns to Keith. Keith feels the back of his neck burning with a sudden blush, but he keeps his expression flat and focused on his work.

Allen says, “You like looking at the camera guy?”

“Yeah,” Shiro breathes, stroking himself. 

What the fuck.

What the fuck. 

“You think he's cute?”

Keith mentally screams at Allen not to encourage this. 

“He's pretty. He has pretty eyes.”

Keith’s jaw clenches, and he says nothing. Just focuses on Shiro’s hand on his cock. 

Allen asks if Shiro has ever slept with anyone with eyes like that, and talks him through three orgasms. The idea of Shiro being alone for the video falls apart, but they have their footage, and that's really all that matters. Keith leaves the room as soon as they're done and packs up his equipment. 

“Hey,” comes a voice to his left. “Keith, right?”

Keith turns and Shiro is there, face red and scratching the back of his neck. He looks as embarrassed as he did the first day he was here. 

“I just wanted to say sorry for bringing you in like that,” he says, and sounds truly apologetic this time. “I pretty much messed the entire thing, didn't I? I've been so worried about ruining scenes, and then all that happened…”

Keith is quiet, unsure of what to say. He's mostly confused, because he thought Shiro had been flirting with the camera, their audience, the whole time. 

“One time I filmed a guy getting a rimjob and he farted right on his partner's tongue,” he says instead. 

Shiro chokes on air.

“He thought he messed it up but we uploaded it anyway, and it got like over a million views.” Keith meets Shiro’s eyes. “So don't worry so much about making mistakes during videos. This place will find a way to make money off of it one way or another.”

“That's,” Shiro says, “really weirdly reassuring.”

When he leaves later, Keith thinks that is that.

*

Except it is not.

The video is polished and uploaded, and the editors end up leaving the conversation with Allen in there. Almost every comment asks about the camera man. They want to know what kind of pretty guy has Shiro’s attention so fully that he couldn't even focus on a scene. 

Keith fumes silently the next time they do a video. 

“You are free to look at him all you want this time,” Allen says, “maybe even ask him to join in with you.”

“No,” Keith says.

That video gets even more hits because of that one word, just one word among half an hour of a Shiro jerking himself off. Now more than ever people want to get a look at the man attached to that gruff voice. Comments swarm in like flies, demanding to see what kind of person caught Shiro’s eye. 

“You know,” Allen says one day, “I would pay you if you did a video.”

“No,” says Keith again. 

“It would be a lot of money, a lot more than you're making now.”

“I'm not showing my face,” Keith says, “I didn't even want to have my voice recorded.”

“You wouldn't have to show your face,” Allen says. 

*

One day Shiro doesn't come in. They manage to find another pair to film but Allen is still annoyed Shiro didn't contact him. 

Another day, another no-show. Keith sees Allen texting swiftly on his phone. “Something wrong?” he asks.

“I told him not to read the comments,” Allen mutters to himself. 

That night Keith unfolds his laptop and clicks on their website. He finds Shiro’s profile on the front page, rising in popularity, and picks his latest video. It's of him appearing to cool down after an intense workout, covered in sweat and hand tugging loosely at his dick. 

There's an influx of comments starting from a few days ago.

would be hotter without the prosthetic

sexiest amputee I've ever seen!!!

omg i want to fuck his arm hole. does he have an arm hole? i want to fuck it lmao

I wish he had no arms or legs at all I'd cum soooo hard 

Keith slams his laptop closed, seething.

*

When Shiro still doesn't come back the next day, Keith asks Allen, “Who moderates the comments on our website?”

“How the hell should I know? It should be listed somewhere if you dig deep enough. Why?”

“Nothing,” says Keith. 

He returns to the website later and looks through the FAQ. Some moderators for different parts of the site are listed, and he clicks on the profile of the one in charge of Shiro’s videos, among several of their other actors. Some guy named Ty.

Keith shoots him a DM.

[Keith]: I’m Keith, one of the cameramen here. I found some comments on Shiro’s videos I'd like to report.

Ty answers half an hour later. 

[Ty]: which ones? i don't see any that violate the TOS

[Keith]: The ones that talk about his disability.

[Ty]: they're weird but none of them violate the TOS. none of them post his private information or make threats or anything

[Keith]: Doesn't making degrading comments count?

[Ty]: calling him hot because he's amputated isn't degrading

[Keith]: They're fetishizing.

It takes a long time before Keith gets a response. 

[Ty]: sorry i was laughing really hard did you just say you're reporting comments on a porn site because they're fetishizing

are you really a camera guy here? do you know what porn is???

Keith feels a headache coming on.

[Keith]: Ty I will literally pay you $50 to delete those comments.

A long pause. 

[Ty]: $100

[Keith]: $75

[Ty]: fine. just know i’m not responsible for comments made on any of those streaming sites that rip our videos

*

Shiro comes back again at the beginning of the week. 

Keith doesn't notice at first, his attention on putting together his camera equipment while the rest of the crew members get ready for the first shoot of the day. He's arranging the camera stand when a shadow falls over him. A huge one. Keith looks up to see Shiro, bent over and smiling. 

“Hey!” he says, standing straight. “Been a while! Sorry I haven't been around, wasn't feeling too good this last week so I took a little break. Now I'm just making the rounds apologizing to everybody.”

Keith stares at him. “Oh. It's fine, you don't… have to do that.”

“Still,” Shiro says, but doesn't explain any more. His smile warms. 

Keith shifts on one foot, looking down to the camera in his hands. It’s been a while since he's spoken to Shiro one-on-one like this, and hopes his face isn't turning red. 

Shiro steps closer. “Listen, Keith. Did you…?”

Keith looks up, and meets his eyes.

“Alright, is everyone ready?” Allen’s voice calls out. He stands by Sound Guy, his arms crossed. “Shiro?”

“Yeah,” Shiro says, turning. “Yeah I'm ready.”

Keith is left without knowing what Shiro was going to ask. He returns to his work, and soon they're all set up.

It's Shiro’s first video with a partner. The man is on his knees, sucking Shiro’s cock. Whether Shiro genuinely enjoys it or not, Keith doesn't know, but he puts on a good show. His voice is low with arousal, grunting as he threads his fingers through his partner’s hair. 

Allen suddenly elbows Keith. Keith stares at Allen, brows furrowed, but Allen only looks pointedly between Shiro and Keith.

What?

The guy bobs his head between Shiro's legs. Keith focuses on the partner for a long time, getting plenty of footage, before he moves on to Shiro and…

And…

Shiro keeps his eyes on his partner. So diligently, it's like Keith isn't even there. 

It's what all actors have to do at some point or another. Ignore the camera. The camera guy does not exist.

But Keith…

The guy sucks, hard, and Shiro throws his head back with a moan.

Keith sees Allen watching him, and suddenly, understands. 

Understands just what it is he's feeling.

“You can… look at me…”

His voice is quiet, but it manages to cut through the sounds of obnoxious slurping and gagging, and Shiro’s eyes fall open to land on Keith, narrowed in questioning. “What…?”

Keith swallows through his dry throat. His heart races.

“... Look at me…”

Shiro’s eyes widen, his breath hitching. His hips arch up, hand tensing on the guy’s head. 

Look at me. Don't look away from me.

“Ah…” He makes the nicest little moaning sounds. “Ah…!”

Shiro cums with his eyes never leaving Keith’s.

Allen watches the whole thing with a grin.

*

Keith is dazed as he puts away his equipment later, staring at nothing.

What the fuck was that?

He puts his face in his hands. Oh, god. Allen is never going to leave him alone, now.

*

Just as expected, the video quickly becomes Shiro’s most popular. There's no denying there's a certain chemistry between him and the faceless camera man, even when getting blown by another guy. There are more comments demanding his appearance than ever. 

“I have an idea,” says Allen.

“No,” says Keith. 

“You didn't even hear it.”

“You're going to ask me to be in a video, and I'm not going to.”

“I mean,” Allen shrugs, “the offer still stands. Whenever you want, just say the word, and I'll ring up Shiro and we can get the show on the road.”

Keith blushes at the implication that his partner would automatically be Shiro.

“But what I was going to suggest was a video where you give the directions instead of me. And we can leave it all in, instead of editing it out like normal. You control his actions with your voice.”

Keith wants to say no. His lips form the word. Always, ever since he first stepped into the industry, he vowed never to step out from behind that invisible barrier. He was to stay in the background, away from sight. This was pushing that line. 

“I'll pay you double what you normally make for a video.”

Keith doesn’t answer. 

Chapter Text

Hand tightening over the strap around his shoulder, Keith grits his teeth as he’s jostled from side to side in the overcrowded bus, ignoring the pointed glares of passengers and one snide comment about bringing bulky items on public transport. Keith gets their frustration, especially with a case as large as his, but it contains all of his camera equipment and he doesn’t have any other choice right now.

His motorcycle, Kitty Rose, wouldn’t start this morning. There was no time to troubleshoot with her before work, and so Keith had to begrudgingly pull the tarp back over her form and rush out to the nearest bus stop. He hates every moment of it.

It takes over an hour to reach his stop, and he all but flings himself out of the doors once they’re there, taking in deep breaths of relief and promising himself to never take personal space for granted ever again. The bus takes off almost immediately after his feet are off the steps, leaving nothing but a cloud of dark exhaust in its wake.

Work is only a short walk away after that. Keith soon approaches the nondescript building, adjusting the shoulder strap of his case. Anyone who sees him entering would have no idea he was working in porn, unless they were acquainted with Sincline Productions themselves.

Keith uses an app to clock in and takes the stairs to the second floor.

Everyone is waiting on him when he finally arrives. Allen turns and shoots him a look, obviously none too pleased that his only camera guy for the day was so late. Without Keith, any work they can do is limited.

Keith bows his head as he passes, not looking forward to getting chewed out. “I’m sorry,” he says.

Allen lets Keith stew in the awkward silence for an extended beat, then says gruffly, “You need to have a better backup plan when this sort of thing happens.”

Keith wants to snap back, I didn’t know until it was literally time to go, and what would you have done, pay for my rideshare? But he holds his tongue. Yeah, his day had a shitty start, but as much as he bitches about his job to his friends, he doesn’t actually want to lose it.

Thankfully, Allen leaves it at that.

Keith proceeds to set his case down and arrange his camera setup. It’s a scene with Shiro today, and a new partner. They’re going for the Daddy/twink dynamic, evidently, as the boy fits the type to a T. He stands there batting his blonde eyelashes at Shiro, toeing the floor with a coquettish mien.

Keith stares through the camera lens blankly as he watches Shiro sharing a laugh with his partner, assuring him, “You’ll do fine. This place has been nothing but good to me. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

Twink giggles. “And you’ll be good to me, too, right?”

Shiro beams. “Yeah!”

They get started not long after. Everyone in the crew works together as a team as they capture a scene of Shiro and Twink as a Teacher and Student, a classic porn trope. Twink hams up the taboo of it, crooning sultrily about doing whatever his teacher wanted in order to pass his class. Shiro, dressed in a white button up that stretches over his pecs, plays the type well.

The fake glasses he’s wearing also make him look really hot.

Keith blinks.

Did…

Did he just—

Face erupting in red, Keith screams internally as he mentally slaps himself in the face. Yeah, it may be porn, but this is still a job to Keith. He’s always prided himself on being professional about it.

Besides, only camera crews still green and wet behind the ears get aroused on set. Keith has done this for years. What’s so different about this time?

Keith remembers why it’s different a few hours later, after filming the set up, build up, and initial sex acts of the video. They’re at the part where the teacher eats his student’s ass on his desk, and Shiro is performing as well as ever. He grins playfully as he hefts up Twink’s legs over his shoulders and leans down to tongue that chocolate starfish. Twink, like all porn actors, over-exaggerates his moans, lashing his head back and forth like it’s literally the best thing he’s ever felt.

Though, knowing Shiro… Twink probably isn’t exaggerating that much.

It’s something Keith has noticed over the months. Almost every partner Shiro’s bedded always ends up with this fucked out look, and not in the way Keith usually sees in this industry. They look… sated. Satisfied. Not like they were just used and exploited. Out of all their talent, Shiro gets the most requests for repeat scenes by a landslide.

It certainly increases Keith’s respect for Shiro, if anything.

And… fuck, okay.

Keith admits it.

It makes him curious.

Especially when Shiro once again turns his gaze over to the camera, smirking rakishly as he leaves a wet kiss on Twink’s quivering hole.

“Oh–ohhhhh,” Twink whines.

Keith doesn’t hear it at all.

His heart pounds loud in his ears, blocking everything out, as he studies the image in his lens. Shiro’s eyes are a strikingly beautiful dark gray as they bore into Keith’s.

No, the camera—

No, Shiro said it himself, didn’t he?

He likes… Keith’s eyes…

Throat dry, Keith tentatively raises his head, immediately frozen in place when he finds Shiro’s eyes on him, just as suspected.

Shiro laves his tongue over Twink’s hole lazily, making love to it, as his eyelids lower and he stares at Keith through the rims of those damn sexy glasses.

Blood rushes throughout Keith’s body and he feels warm, far too warm in this already sweltering room. He’s never felt like this before, on any film set…

Hazily, Keith recalls the way Allen encouraged him to give Shiro directions on a video. This is a film about a teacher and his student, Keith isn’t anywhere near a part of the equation.

And yet he feels it, the build up of words, sitting on his tongue as he swallows thickly and parts his lips…

Shiro’s eyes dilate as he grips passionately at Twink's thigh.

“Jesus Christ, okay, Shiro can you try to not move your prosthetic arm so much in this one?” calls out a voice that slices through the heated tension and unforgivingly snaps Keith back to reality.

He watches as Shiro shoots a glare over to Sound Guy, who’s holding up the boom mic off to the side.

The rest of the crew remain silent, the previous tension quickly morphing into a different kind, an uncomfortable tension, and it permeates the air.

Sound Guy, oblivious, rolls his eyes. “I’m serious dude, you have no fucking idea how much of a pain in the ass it is to filter out all the racket it makes while keeping the integrity of the recording. Like I know you don’t like talking about it but it’s the truth. You have a prosthetic arm. It is not a real arm. They make different noises from each other.”

Keith joins Shiro in glaring at him.

“I'm not trying to trigger you, I'm just stating facts. Like seriously, I'm done tip-toeing around you like this. I thought only girls with blue hair did this snowflake bullshit, certainly never expected it from a big buff military guy like you. But whatever,” Sound Guy scoffs, shrugging. “I guess it doesn’t matter in the end. A fag’s gonna fag.”

Keith stands up. Silently handing his camera over to the only person in the building he trusts with it (Allen), he walks briskly across the room and punches Sound Guy in the face.

Sound Guy falls easily, having not expected it at all. He stumbles against the wall, his boom mic crashing to the ground with the familiar sound of something breaking. Pressing a curled fist against the wall, he rubs his bloody lip with the back of his hand, glaring Keith down. They have a brief stare-down, Keith bracing himself for the inevitable.

Just as predicted, Sound Guy lashes back. “Fucking bastard–!”

The rest of the crew finally start to react as Keith raises his fists.

“Guys, wait!”

“Stop!”

“Keith, really?”

Growing up in foster homes, Keith is used to trading blows in conflicts. He dodges Sound Guy’s uncoordinated punch and uppercuts him in the jaw, sending Sound Guy to sleep immediately. He falls backward, his skull saved only by a few crew members rushing to catch him.

Someone screams uselessly. There’s always at least one person caterwauling in those viral videos of fights. If it weren’t real life, Keith would probably think this whole thing was one such clip.

… Then he remembers.

With a foreboding feeling, Keith turns around to see Allen grinning from behind his own camera, the lenses flashing the reflection of Shiro entering the frame with his dark pants hanging low on his hips.

“Keith!” Shiro rushes toward him, expression carved in worry. “Are you alright? Did he hurt you?” Despite being fake, the glasses still rest on his face.

Sound Guy wakes up pretty quickly, as true knockouts never last for hours like the movies. But he’s letting himself be carried away by the rest of their crew members, separating the two of them. That makes everything okay in Keith’s book. “I’m fine,” he says. “I hit him first, after all.”

“And you got that all on fucking tape, right?” Sound Guy shouts to Allen indignantly. He holds his nose pinched, blood seeping out the sides. Keith would tell him it’s better for him to lean his head forward, not back, but… eh. “You got him straight up assaulting me out of nowhere, yeah?”

Allen just stares at Sound Guy flatly through Keith’s camera. “Yeah, I got it all on fucking tape,” he says, “I got you being a bigot in a room full of us fags. Do you have any idea what the job climate is like in this city? It’ll be impossible to find anyone who’d hire you after seeing how much of a liability you’ve made yourself with this video.” Allen’s cheek twitches, his anger palpable. “Because you sure as hell aren’t coming back here, obviously.”

Sound Guy rages some more, pushing against those holding him back and throwing a few more slurs here and there for good measure. Practically every expression in the room curls in disgust, and any pity previously felt for him immediately vanishes.

Sincline Productions is the kind of business that offers security, of course, so it’s all just a matter of Allen calling them before a couple of bouncers show up to escort Sound Guy out. Sound Guy is still making himself a public humiliation by the time the stair doors finally close him out, leaving the room collectively exhaling a sigh of relief.

As Allen lowers the camera and stops recording, Keith looks at him pleadingly. “Please don’t make me go viral,” he says stiffly between his teeth. The very thought makes him feel sick. In a world where he lives comfortably in the unforgotten shadows, having the attention of the entire world on him sounds like a nightmare.

“Hmm…” Allen’s lips spread in a thin smile as he pops out the memory card from its slot. He holds it up. “This would get way more views than the fart eating video.”

Keith feels the dread weigh down his stomach.

Suddenly Shiro steps out from the corner of Keith’s eye and marches stauntly over to Allen. Without a word, Shiro raises his prosthetic arm, swipes the card from Allen’s fingers, and crushes it in a tight fist, the plastic cover crumbling easily beneath his strength.

Keith gapes. But Allen just shrugs. He doesn’t look quite that bothered about it at all.

Which is weird, because the Allen Keith knows as his boss would never let the opportunity for a profit like that slip by.

“Oops,” says Allen.

“Yes,” Shiro says, the curl of his smile twitching at the corner. “Oops.”

Keith still doesn’t understand, but he’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Sincline Productions, about safety as always, issues every employee with a dumb work phone that doesn’t have a camera and bans all personal cells from the building. So Keith doesn’t have to worry about going viral anymore.

But he still has something that’s probably a little more important to worry about.

“I might have to take some time off,” Keith announces, glancing down at his scrapped knuckles. “That guy was a douche, but I did just assault him. He could press charges against me, so… I might have to serve some time.”

Shiro balks as he looks at Keith. “I won’t let that happen,” he declares. “I’ll bail you out.”

Keith shakes his head, albeit rather touched at the offer. “You know they’ll set it to a bullshit amount. Don’t waste that kind of money for something stupid.”

“You’re not–,”

“Besides, it’s not like it’ll be my first time. I can handle it. Just… you know. Might have to join that guy in searching for a job afterwards.” The thought makes something somewhere inside of Keith feel strange, but he doesn’t really want to linger on that right now. Just as he’s done his whole life, whenever confronted with a feeling he really should unpack, he only shoves it tighter inside the suitcase pocket and stuffs it further into the closet. Therapy would be great, but hah, guess who has the shittiest insurance in the state with terrible coverage and all of the good therapists are always out of network? 👉 This guy!! 👈

So, he’ll have to go back on the job hunt for a little bit. So what? Nothing he hasn’t done before.

“Don’t be stupid,” Allen says bluntly, cutting through Keith’s musings. “Of course you’ll still have a job here at Sincline. But I wouldn't worry about that anyway. You know his type—his pride is too wounded. Pressing charges against you would mean asking everyone in this room to corroborate what happened, which would mean his bigotry would be recorded. Whether that’ll actually mean anything or not for him in the long run, doesn’t really matter. I never took him for a gambling man anyway. So congratulations, Keith. You got to assault a guy and get away without facing any consequences.”

Keith shifts his weight from foot to foot. “... Also not my first time,” he adds, taking only just a little bit of pride in that fact.

Just a smidge.

“Wow.”

Keith turns to see Shiro staring down at him with an expression he can’t place. But he likes to think it’s a positive one, as his smile stretches and he huffs a breathless laugh.

“You really are… something.”

Then, his dark grey eyes drop, before climbing back up Keith’s form slowly, looking him over. Keith shivers at that look, feeling not unlike the way he does when receiving an x-ray, exposed down to the bone.

“Okay, well,” Allen starts, projecting his voice louder and turning to face the rest of the crew. “I think I speak for everyone when I say fuck this, we should take the rest of the day off. We all just collectively experienced a homophobic microaggression in the workplace and were then exposed to violence. We all need to retreat back to our safe spaces and recuperate, and no, I’m not being ironic. I’m dead serious, go take a mental health day. I will get the higher-ups to pay everyone for their scheduled hours, so I don’t want anyone bothering me for the rest of the day. Don’t fucking message me. Good night.”

It’s only mid-afternoon, but everyone gets the gist.

While the crew starts packing up, Allen hands over the camera back to Keith.

Keith scowls at him.

Allen grins. “You handed it to me,” he reminds Keith.

“Whatever.” Keith knows he’s caught there. Kneeling down, he sets the professional camcorder in its box and starts breaking down the metal tripod poles. Allen finally leaves after that. Keith silently makes a promise to himself never to be late for work ever again.

At that moment his stomach abruptly releases a wicked rumble, and Keith finally realizes that on top of everything else that’s happened with his shitty day, he’s also forgotten his lunch. Ugh. At least he’s going home now, instead of having to power through his hunger.

As he works, he catches the lilts of a conversation from behind him—Allen must have approached Shiro.

“... just wanted to apologize on behalf of Sincline. The HR managers are usually a lot better at vetting new employees, we really value the safety of our cast, you know…”

Allen gives Shiro the PR Special, but essentially tells him that sometimes guys like that will slip through the cracks anyways, because a job is a job. Sound Guy was just really good at hiding that part of himself until now.

Keith pouts.

Damn it, he really liked Sound Guy’s doughnuts. And he forgot to ask where he bought them from.

A few minutes later, as Keith finishes packing, a large shadow falls over him. Before Shiro, Keith would have tensed and thrown a glare over his shoulder. But now, he just casts a glance back, curiously.

As he thought, Shiro stands tall over him, fully dressed, glasses-less, and evidently done with talking to Allen. A black leather jacket hangs folded over his arm. “Hey,” he says. “So, that was all… a lot, just now, huh?”

Keith gives him a look that says ‘clearly.’

“And I heard you were late because you had to take the bus here, so… I wanted to offer you a ride. As thanks for… all of that.”

Interested, Keith turns to him. “On the motorcycle?” He remembers Shiro mentioning it on his first day.

Shiro’s face falls a little. “Ah, yeah, I did take her here today. I understand if you’re not comfortable with that, especially with…” He makes a small, half-hearted gesture with his prosthetic hand.

Keith immediately stands up. “No! I mean, yes? I mean–,” He flushes with embarrassment. “I’m okay with catching a ride home.”

Sure, maybe he normally would have turned down the offer, always quick to draw up walls against people–but for one thing, Keith really does not want to end his day on that damn bus again. Two, he really wants to see Shiro’s bike.

“As long as you’re okay with having a lot of extra weight,” Keith adds, glancing down at his camera case.

Shiro brightens, his eyes shining. “Yeah! That won’t be a problem.”

So with that decided, Keith picks up his gear and shrugs the case straps over his shoulders, like a big, uncomfortable backpack. “I’m ready, then.”

As they clock out and make their way out of the building, Keith wonders what kind of bike Shiro has. Does he like going fast, or is he the cautious type? Is Shiro going to lead him to a hog straight out of an old man gang?

Shiro takes them to a small parking garage and answers all of Keith’s questions when he beelines for…

Keith slows to a stop, lips parting.

Oh my god.

It’s a motherfucking Ninja H2.

Keith practically vibrates down to his bones as he approaches Shiro and the bike, eyes wide and staring at it reverently. She’s painted snow white with light blue accents, looking like a futuristic robot. She’s gorgeous.

Keith must have said that last part out loud, because Shiro beams proudly. “Her name’s Atlas.”

Mouthing the name silently, Keith envisions Shiro speeding down deserted highways on her, the desert heat waves distorting his image like a mythical creature. His thighs clenching around the seat, fingers grasping the throttle. Something about the mental image tops every porn scene Keith’s ever shot of him.

Reaching into a fancy looking leather saddlebag, Shiro fishes out a helmet, then slides and does the same at the other side, soon holding up two helmets. Keith blinks, suddenly remembering.

Oh, right.

He’s going to be riding her.

Keith’s so excited he doesn’t even think to ask why Shiro had a spare helmet on him. If anything, he glares at the shoulder straps of the case that’s now holding him back, preventing him from being able to experience the full thrill Altas has to offer.

Shiro misunderstands, the corner of his mouth crooking in a light smirk. “Don’t worry. I’ll drive slow.”

“That’s the problem,” says Keith. “I’ve never hated this thing more than I do now.”

Keith starts when that comment makes Shiro burst a full blown laugh, and shakes his head. “I mean, if fast is what you want, I can always take you out some other time.”

He says it so casually, so fluidly, that it takes Keith a moment to process. He stills, indigo eyes meeting Shiro’s. For a very long moment, Shiro says nothing. Like he didn’t just say something that could easily be misconstrued…

Right, because it was probably nothing in the first place.

Keith schools his face.

Of course it would be easy to misunderstand, he thinks to himself. After all, his boss has been practically begging them to fuck on camera for weeks. That kind of thing will have repercussions on a professional work relationship.

So Keith offers a small smile, meeting Shiro’s smirk. “I dunno… I do like fast. Really fast. Think you could keep up with my demands?”

Shiro’s grin widens with his challenge. “You’re talking to the right guy.”

Once again, his gray eyes do that thing where they fall and crawl back up Keith’s form. If Keith hadn’t known how to react to it before, in the studio, then he sure as hell doesn’t know how to react to it outside of work.

Swiftly, Shiro slides his helmet over his head and clasps everything into place with the same kind of muscle memory Keith got once he was used to riding every day. The he quickly does the same for Keith with the spare, fitting it over his head snugly and adjusting all of the straps and clasps for him. Keith lets him. When he’s done, Shiro steps back and crosses his arms, muscles bulging in his biceps and pressing his pecs together in a facsimile of cleavage.

Good lord.

“Ready?” Shiro asks.

Keith’s stomach chooses that moment to answer for him, with a long drawn out growl. Keith flushes.

Shiro’s eyebrow raises as he smirks at him. “Hungry?”

Keith instinctively opens his mouth to say “No,” but hesitates.

“Because I know a place,” Shiro continues.

Dangerous, Keith’s alarm bells ring. Dangerous territory.

But… come on.

Why would Keith ever refuse free food? In this economy?

It’s the only reason why he nods in assent.

Shiro’s beam glows brighter.

Chapter Text

Keith feels like he’s somehow too poor to be allowed to so much as touch Atlas, let alone get to ride her. He climbs on her first, scooting backwards and watching rivetingly as Shiro throws his leg over the seat and settles himself, sidling into position. He then glances behind his shoulder at Keith, making him start before remembering oh yeah, I have to hold onto him, and quickly wrapping his arms around Shiro’s middle.

Keith’s mouth goes dry as he feels the hard muscle beneath his hands. He senses Shiro’s chiseled six-pack through the leather of the jacket like the princess feels the pea.

Then he chides himself once again. Shiro is just being nice because he feels indebted to you for punching Sound Guy. Stop using your horny brain all the time, it’s never gotten you anywhere good, he lectures.

As they pull out of the parking garage, Keith comes to a horrible realization.

If he didn’t have this stupid bag right now, preventing Shiro from being able to go as fast as he wanted…

Oh my god. I might actually cum.

Not even an exaggeration; Keith has long ago accepted his fetish for adrenaline rushes. Stupidly and very unhelpfully, his brain concocts the outrageous and highly implausible scenario of Shiro speeding down the desert while Keith fucks into him from behind. It’s so ridiculous and yet it sends a wave of arousal through Keith’s lower half so deeply that he actually has to shift away from Shiro’s back a few inches, like a fucking teenager.

Despite the limitations of Keith’s baggage, it is still the most thrilling ride in his life. His own bike, as much as he loves her, could only ever dream of achieving the speeds Atlas delivers them effortlessly. Keith is silently pleased when Shiro even breaks the speed limit a little bit, zipping through traffic and taking them out west. He leans naturally alongside Shiro's body whenever they make a turn, their knees almost touching the pavement.

Shiro brings Keith to a beachside boardwalk, peaceful without the tourists that usually swarm the place in the summertime. A cold breeze wafts the smell of salt and brine on Keith’s tongue. As Shiro pulls into a small public parking space next to a long wooden pier, Keith catches sight of a cozy little café. It’s painted a deep ocean blue, with white roofing and decorated from head to toe with nautical knick-knacks. Café Clanmürl, the wooden sign reads.

Keith furrows his brows at the esoteric name as they slow to a stop on a spot of gravel next to a beige minivan. Shiro stands, cuts the bike’s engine, and kicks down the side stand. Keith moves to slip off the side.

“So,” Shiro says as he unbuckles his helmet clasps, watching Keith. “What’s her name?”

Keith stumbles.

“Wh-What?”

Shiro’s lips twitch like he knows exactly what he did. “Your bike.” He gestures to Atlas. “The way you moved with me, it felt like you were used to doing it every day. Most people get nervous the first time they ride a bike with someone.”

Oh. Keith feels his face burning. He never did actually mention it to Shiro, now that he thinks about it. No wonder he fussed over Keith so much. “It’s… Kitty Rose,” he mumbles.

Shiro brightens. “Vintage. I like it.”

Keith huffs a small laugh through his nose, reaching to rub at the back of his neck. His fingers brush through tendrils of dark hair. “Yeah, well, she’s an heirloom. 1995 KLR650. She belonged to my mom first.”

They both remove their helmets as they continue their conversation, Shiro leading Keith up a short wooden railed path to the blue building. “Aw, and she gave it to you?” Shiro asks, smiling.

Keith’s face falls. “No. I inherited it when I turned eighteen.” His voice is flat.

It’s the only thing he has left of her.

Life before losing his parents is… hazy, in Keith’s memories. He remembers clinging to a woman, who would pick him up and rock him in her arms as she sang a song in a language he didn't know. He wonders if that was his mother, but he doesn’t think he’ll ever find out the answer, so he tries not to dwell on it.

He remembers Pops always making up grandiose stories about why she was never there growing up.

“She’s a secret agent, kid,” he would say, toothpick hanging out of his smirking lips as he turned the dial on the radio. His drawl was rough like the desert sands. “She’s out there defeating bad guys and saving the world. That’s how much she loves us.”

Bullshit. Keith knows better by now—Krolia was nothing more than a deadbeat. She couldn’t give two shits about him, either of them. He had all the proof of that when she couldn’t even be bothered to show up for Dad’s funeral.

It was distant family that took him in, first. It didn’t take long before it became clear that they were not equipped to raise a troubled child, and so that’s when the bouncing from home to home began, leaving Keith growing up without the stability of a permanent residence. Once he aged out of the system, he was given his inheritance, which included Kitty Rose. Keith honestly never even knew she had a motorcycle. But it definitely wasn’t Dad’s. The only reason he even knows her name at all is because of the small engraving on her side.

Shiro freezes, his eyes wide. “Keith,” he says, voice small, “I—,”

“It’s,” Keith interrupts, “okay. Really.”

He’s quickly reminded of why he doesn’t like getting too close to people in the first place. All of the hurdles. One of such being the ‘finding out I’m a traumatized orphan’ hurdle. Like, Keith gets it. It’s sad. He really would like to go to therapy about it. But every time an acquaintance learns about it, they get this sad pitying look on their face, and Keith hates it. “I’m sorry” is his least favorite response, and he suddenly finds that he doesn’t want to hear it from Shiro.

Neutralizing his expression, Shiro nods. “Okay.” Then, “We should race each other some time.”

The flawless manner in which Shiro diverts the awkwardness genuinely impresses Keith. Extroverts truly are amazing people.

Keith snorts. “Are you kidding? I would eat Atlas’s dust and you know that.”

“Hey, you never know.” Shiro grins as he opens the door to the café and holds it for him. The gray metal joints of his prosthetic hand splay out against the glass, shining in the light.

Keith finally understands.

Out of anyone, Shiro would definitely understand that feeling. What it’s like to be pitied.

Appreciation further swells in Keith’s chest.

“So… how the hell do you pronounce this place’s name?” he asks, squinting up at the sign.

“No idea,” says Shiro, shrugging. “Everyone who works here says it differently.”

The inside of the café is cozy, with brown wooden walls and floors, like the inside of a ship. It continues its nautical theme from the outside, with various naval flags hanging from the ceiling. Pastry displays line up and down the far wall, and even more sweets are on display at the front counter. To the side sits some ironwork tables, with just enough room for a couple to have a comfortable date.

“Hi! Welcome to Café Clanmürl!” calls out a peppy voice, jolting Keith out of his reverie. A woman with long blonde twintails flowing from a braid at her crown pops out from behind the register, donning an apron printed in navy stripes and a matching sailor cap. “Our special today is the Nebulous Ring, a truly cosmic doughnut that’s out of this world! Available for a limited time in honor of Samuel Holt returning from his final voyage. We are also taking donations for the GGISE, a local non-profit that supports childrens’ STEM education! What can I get for y–?”

“Romelle?!”

The woman’s eyebrows raise, as she looks him up and down. “Holy shit, Keith?”

“Since when did you work here?”

“Since when did you have a boyfriend?”

Keith shoots his wide eyes at her in a fiery glare that lets her know he knows full well what she’s doing, and that he is incredibly disappointed in her. He thought she was smarter than this.

Nope. Turns out, Romelle is the friend that likes to shit-stir. Of course, having been roommates for several years back in the day, Keith is already aware of this.

Don’t you dare, his eyes bear into hers. You shut your whore mouth.

“Oh–hi!” Shiro offers a polite wave, smiling his golden boy smile. “Are you new here? I know Nadia usually works Wednesdays. Ah, but she’s taking her exams soon, isn’t she?”

He’s so charming it’s blinding. Ah, to observe an extrovert in his natural habitat. Riveting, Keith thinks to himself like a documentary narration.

Shiro somehow has the energy to make every person he meets feel like the most important person in his life. He’ll remember every acquaintance down to the last detail, and never miss a birthday. He’s the type of guy who can hear someone introduce themself and then not immediately forget their name.

Dangerous, Keith’s alarm bells continue to warn. His kind is dangerous.

The kind of guy that makes people feel special.

That would make Keith feel special.

This is the perfect melting pot of ingredients that would only end with a broken heart, he knows this. And yet, somehow, here he is, standing with Shiro inside a cutesy café because Shiro drove him here, to pay for his food. Honestly, Keith can see it coming from a mile away.

He’s fucked.

And now, Romelle knows. Possibly the last person on Earth he wants to share this with at the moment.

Romelle titters. “Oh, you must be Shiro! Yeah, I’m brand new—it’s my second day! Everyone here has already told me a story about you. I think I already know your order! Bacon and maple doughnut, right?”

Keith’s face scrunches tightly. He looks at Shiro incredulously. “Excuse me?”

Shiro crosses his arms. “They’re sweet and savory,” he says defensively. His chest pushes together again.

Keith’s gaze naturally drifts down to those succulent babas. Hngh, okay, fine. He will allow the horrible taste in pastries. But Shiro’s on thin fucking ice.

Shiro continues, “Besides, what’s your order? Something like lavender lilac and honey?”

Keith whips his head to Romelle. “Wait, that’s a flavor here?”

“Seriously?” says Shiro. “That’s so floral.”

“Do not test me today Shiro, I will discourse over food,” Keith warns him.

“Lavender lilac and honey is one of our longest running special flavors!” Romelle recites in her customer service voice. She bounces on the balls of her feet, thoroughly entertained. “Will that be one bacon and maple and one lavender lilac?”

“And two Nebulous Rings,” Shiro adds, holding two fingers of his prosthetic up. “And a coffee, for me. Keith?”

Keith nods, saying, “Coffee works for me, too.”

Romelle punches the order in her register, humming. “Four doughnuts and two coffees for the lovely couple~”

Keith feels his hackles raise. “We are coworkers,” he grits.

“Coworkers? But don’t you work in—,” Romelle’s eyebrows raise as it finally dawns on her. “Oh. Ohhh.” Her red lips form a perfect circle and she looks positively giddy.

Kill me, now.

“Alrighty then,” Romelle chirps, taking Shiro’s card and running it through, before ripping the receipt from the printer and handing it over to Shiro. “Four doughnuts and two coffees for the coworkers, coming right up!”

Shiro is either oblivious or politely ignores the ‘couple’ thing. He gives her a warm smile, and leads Keith toward the small ironwork tables.

“Friend of yours?” he asks, curiously.

Keith stares flatly ahead as he pulls out a chair and sinks into it. “More like a regular pain in my ass.”

Shiro huffs a laugh through his nose, shaking his head with something like fondness as he sits across from Keith. “I have to wonder how two such characters met.”

Keith props an arm on the table and leans his head against it. “We were roommates for a while, several years ago. I had just aged out of the system and needed a place to stay, she was going to the local college but her plans for campus housing fell through. She posted an ad, and here we are.”

That's putting it simply. Over the years, Romelle has somehow wedged her way into his life and made herself at home. She is pretty much the only person in the world who is allowed to ignore and bypass Keith’s boundaries, and only because she made it that way.

They also, uh. Eventually had a thing. For a while.

A ‘friends with benefits’ thing.

They never dated, never called it anything but stress relief. Keith would scoff before ever calling Romelle an ‘ex’ of his, either. And she was the one who eventually ended their Thing when she started a relationship with Acxa, who was very monogamous. 

They’re all on good terms, sure, but it’s not like Keith was even remotely prepared to merge these two sides of his life together without warning. Ugh, she’s going to give him an earful later.

Shiro must be some kind of magician with words, because he manages to pull out three more stories of Keith’s antics while living with Romelle before the devil herself appears with their coffee and doughnuts, setting them one by one on the table. They all share a good chuckle at the one where Romelle threw a surprise birthday party for Keith on the wrong day, nearly sending him into cardiac arrest upon entering their apartment.

Smiling brightly, Romelle gives a cute little curtsy. “Well, I hope you two enjoy! Oh, and—thank you for your service!” she says, eyes flitting down to Shiro’s prosthetic arm before snapping back up.

Shiro’s mouth twitches as Romelle spins on the ball of her foot with a giggle, twin tails flowing behind her, and bounces back across the café to her place behind the register.

When she’s out of earshot, Shiro glances at Keith, lips twisting sardonically as he lifts his coffee to sip. “I have never stepped foot in a military institute in my life,” he says.

Keith wants to sink into the floor.

Shiro must take pity on him, because he chuckles. “It’s okay. Really. She’s sweet.”

Doesn't change the fact that he’s so going to chew her out later. “… Like I said, a pain in the ass,” Keith mumbles, taking a bite out of his lavender lilac doughnut. He blinks. “This tastes just like the doughnuts the sound guy would bring in at work.”

“I would hope so. They are one and the same.”

“How did you know where he got them?”

“I asked,” Shiro says simply. His face falls a little. “I thought he was nice.”

“Really? I wasn’t surprised he turned out to be an asshole.”

Shiro’s eyebrows raise. “You could read him that well?”

Keith chews on his doughnut in contemplation. “It’s less being able to read someone and more… simply assuming everyone is an asshole who will disappoint you eventually. Hasn’t failed me yet.”

Shiro falls silent for a moment, eyes downcast. “That sounds… sad,” he says softly.

Keith shrugs. Maybe it is sad, but it’s how Keith has always gotten by in the world. Never trust anyone. They will always let you down in the end.

Seems like Shiro is the type who wants to believe in the inherent goodness of others. A trait Keith usually finds grating, but for some reason, he thinks is a little endearing on Shiro.

They sit in companionable silence for a bit, eyes drifting out the window and gazing over the waves crashing on the beach.

Shiro interrupts Keith’s reverie. “Can I ask how you got into… this line of work?” he asks.

Seeing the attempt at small talk for what it is, Keith responds, “Always liked filming. I wanted to shoot movies, you know? Not just indie, but big Hollywood films.” He sighs through his nose, gaze falling. “But, you know how it is. Shoot for the stars, and maybe you’ll reach your dream in a hundred thousand years only if you travel at least twenty-five thousand miles an hour.”

Shiro snorts above the rim of his coffee mug. “Proxima Centauri,” he says.

Keith grins. The nearest star to Earth.

“So… yeah. Had to tone down the big dreams a bit. Honestly, this is the most usage of my degree I’ve ever had in a job,” he continues. “I even got a trophy from one of those dumb adult video award ceremonies once.”

It’s made of plastic and shaped like a dick.

Keith secretly treasures it.

Shiro laughs. “That’s about all we can hope for in this state, isn’t it?” He props his chin into the cupped hand of his prosthetic. “It sucks to give up on our dreams. Cosmic Pilot,” he says, lifting two fingers in a salute. “Dashed, as you can probably guess.”

Keith meets Shiro’s eyes, unsure of what to say.

Shiro studies him for a long moment. “It’s okay,” he says quietly. “You can ask about it.”

Keith stills. Honestly, he’s pretty shocked Shiro gave him the okay—he had always been rather sensitive to any mention of it. Case in point: today.

It’s… okay, right? They’re just coworkers having small talk after work. It’s normal to talk about your life outside of the building, right?

Right, Keith concludes. He’s so used to building walls up, he doesn’t even remember how interpersonal relationships work anymore. How pathetic.

Still, he’s unsure of what to say, and when he stays quiet for a beat too long, Shiro continues. “It was osteosarcoma. I’d been diagnosed less than a year before they had to remove the whole arm. I was sixteen.”

Keith watches Shiro’s eyes take on a faraway look, as he recollects.

“I’d wanted to become a pilot, yeah, but you know what else I secretly wanted to be?”

When Keith tilts his head in questioning, Shiro chuckles to himself.

“A porn star.”

Keith chokes on his doughnut.

“Listen,” Shiro laughs. “I was a sixteen year old kid who watched so much porn I thought ‘I could do that!’ like every other teenaged boy within a hundred miles of New Altea. It was my backup plan if the Cosmic Pilot thing fell through.” His look turns pensive. “Then, it felt like both of those dreams were shattered at the same time.”

Lowering his prosthetic arm to the table, Shiro shows his proficiency in manipulating every joint by taking the mug handle with three fingers and lifting it to his lips deftly. “You know, this arm was made by the members of my high school robotics team. Every arm I’ve ever had has been made by them.”

“That’s really awesome,” Keith says, honestly.

Shiro’s expression turns fond. “Right? My best friend, Matt, was president. His little sister was a freshman on the team the year they designed and created my first arm. It was this whole big deal at school… the New Altea Times even came and did a news segment on it. We were all interviewed on TV. It was all a fluff piece, of course—you know how much people love feel-good stories of disabled children not ‘letting’ life get them down and succeeding in the face of adversary. Never mind the fact that the reason it all happened is because my insurance wouldn’t cover a prosthetic arm for me in the first place,” Shiro adds with a roll of his eyes.

“Universal healthcare now,” Keith intones.

“Universal healthcare now,” Shiro agrees with a solemn nod. “Well, the segment didn’t go viral or anything, but it was able to reach… certain audiences.” His voice turns flat, eyes dark. “A couple years later, the day I turned eighteen, I got an email from these people asking if I wanted to join their website. An amputee fetish website.”

Keith suddenly feels sick in his stomach. “Shiro,” he says, mouth dry, “what the fuck—,”

“Literally was sent at midnight on the dot,” Shiro continues. “Like they were just waiting.”

“That’s so fucked up.”

“Is it?” Shiro lifts his gaze and meets Keith’s eyes. “I had wanted to be in porn, after all. I was given a new chance. But I couldn’t understand why I was so revolted at their offer. It doesn’t make any sense, but… I was upset at the realization that I would never be anything more than a fetish for some people. Isn’t that stupid? Being fetishized is the entire point of this line of work. And yet…”

Keith thumbs the handle of his mug pensively. “It’s not stupid,” he says. “It doesn’t have to make sense. It’s how you feel.”

A pregnant pause falls between them as Shiro looks at Keith with warm, appreciative eyes.

“Yeah, well,” Shiro continues, his cheeks a little pink, “I had pretty much given up on doing that type of work for several years. But then I saw videos made by Sincline.”

Keith can easily guess why Sincline Productions had appealed to Shiro. Founded by a ridiculously progressive trust fund baby with plenty of money to spare, Lotor Sincline produces videos that appeal to a diverse audience. Their website makes a point not to use fetishizing keywords in their categories. They may not reach as many people that way, but they’ve gained a rather devoted fanbase because of it.

“It felt like an opportunity for me to chase after one of my old dreams. Where I could be seen for all of me, instead of what I’m missing.” Shiro sighs through his nose. “I enjoy my job, I really do. But you remember that period of time I didn’t show up?”

Of course Keith remembers. He nods.

“It’s ridiculous, but… people were leaving comments on my videos that just… took me back there. To that place where a bunch of creeps were waiting until I turned old enough to try and recruit me to their fetish site. Allen told me not to, even my therapist said the same thing, but I kept reading them, and more kept popping up. I ended up spiraling all week, just reading them over and over in this toxic cycle.” Shiro scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed. “I even… ugh.” He puts his face in his hands. “I even reached out to my shitty ex.”

“Shiro,” Keith chides flatly.

“I know!” Shiro bursts emphatically. “He’s the worst! We only lasted so long because we were high school sweethearts and didn’t know anything aside from each other. And he wasn’t of any help at all anyway, he just gave me more bullshit that he’d known he was right all along, this dream of mine is ridiculous and not fit for me, and he expects me to come crawling back just like always, begging for forgiveness.”

Shiro’s eyes grow dark and he stills, jerking up to see Keith watching him.

“I’m—I’m sorry,” Shiro says, clearly embarrassed. “That was… too much for a casual dinner.”

Keith thinks about it. “I mean… a little?”

Shiro flinches.

“But to be honest… I don’t mind.” Keith takes a bite out of one of his doughnuts. “Your ex sounds like an asshole.”

It’s the truth. Yeah, it gets really annoying when people assume that just because Keith is quiet, then that must mean he’s a good listener and proceed to ramble on and on about things he doesn’t need to know. But for some reason, it doesn’t bother him when Shiro trauma dumps on him. Once again, Shiro makes himself stand out from the rest.

“Still…” Shiro rubs the back of his neck. “I swear there’s a point to me telling you all this. For a week I really thought I was going to have to give up on my dream again, when one morning I checked my videos and saw that they were all just… gone.”

Keith stops chewing. He stares at Shiro, hoping his eyes don’t immediately reveal everything.

“I originally sent Allen a text thanking him for finally getting them taken down, but he said he had nothing to do with it. So I searched around and found Ty, so that I could thank him instead.” Shiro smiles knowingly. “But he, too, waved it off. ‘Thank the weird camera guy,’ he said.”

Keith says nothing.

“Am I correct in guessing that you’re the camera guy he meant?”

Averting his eyes, Keith lowers his gaze and, hesitantly, nods.

Shiro is silent for a long moment. Then, “You had Ty delete those comments?”

Keith nods again, words escaping him.

Shiro’s voice comes out quiet. “Why?”

Why, indeed?

Feeling put on the spot, Keith hunches in on himself. “I just…”

He feels them. The walls. The guards he always inevitably draws whenever someone makes any attempt at reaching in. They enclose Keith, keeping him safe and trapped inside an empty void of his own making, at a safe distance from those who would hurt him.

Because it has always been easier that way.

It’s so much easier to reject others, before they could reject him.

It gives Keith a modicum of control in a life where he never had any.

Never had any… with the only exception being racing down the desert highway on Kitty Rose. Out there, speeding past towering saguaro and skinny joshua trees, feeling the wind whip by, with his leather gloved hand on the throttle, Keith feels like he has finally control for once in his life.

Being with Shiro… kind of feels like racing Kitty Rose in the desert, Keith realizes.

That is why, for the first time in many years, Keith feels himself lowering that shield, just a little bit.

“... You’re nice,” Keith says softly, honestly. “And I don’t think anyone in this industry is happy to get comments like that. I mean, maybe some people? But Allen made it clear to us not to say anything to you about it, so I figured… I thought they might have upset you, so…”

Shiro leans closer. “So…?”

Keith looks up, looks into those gunmetal grey eyes. He sees himself reflected in them. “So I asked Ty to delete them.”

Shiro raises his eyebrows. “And he did? Just like that?”

Keith shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

Shiro stares him down with a friendly mien. “Keith,” he says, smiling, “How much did you pay him?”

At first, Keith pretends not to hear him.

“Keith.”

Keith takes a hurried bite of his Nebulous Ring and spends too long chewing on it.

Shiro waits patiently, evidently not willing to let Keith go on this one.

With a sigh, Keith leans back. “$75,” he finally admits.

“Keith,” Shiro bursts, “Okay, now you have to agree not to pay me back for lunch.”

“I already agreed!” Keith says. “You wanted to thank me for today.”

“Today,” Shiro says. “That’s right.”

Keith stills.

Shiro recounts, “And today, you gave Travis a black eye because…?”

“You know his name?”

“I know everyone’s name,” Shiro says, blinking. Then stares at Keith expectantly for his answer.

Put on the spot once again, Keith sweats. “Well he was being an asshole! And no one was even doing anything!”

Shiro leans his cheek in his hand, looking at Keith in a way that Keith doesn’t know how to feel about. He quips lightly, “How many times are you going to have to keep saving me while I work here?”

Shocking Shiro and Keith both, he answers immediately, “As many times as it takes.”

Keith freezes, heart thumping. Where the fuck did that come from? They’re just coworkers, for crying out loud. He flushes a dark red, embarrassed.

Thankfully, Shiro doesn’t look too weirded out at Keith’s answer. If anything, his eyes turn only even more fond.

The perfect time for Romelle to come back with a pot of coffee in her hand. “Oh my god this is so cute,” she says, holding up her fingers to her lips. “So you’re coworkers you say, Keithy? Have you two ever made a video together?”

Keith clenches his fist so hard it crumples his napkin as he glares daggers at Romelle. Will you read the fucking room you nescient slattern?!

Romelle throws back the same kind of look in her purple eyes they would see in those villainess anime they used to watch as roommates. Keith can practically hear her ojou-sama laugh. OHOHOHOHOHO! Romelle’s eyes say, hand over her curled mouth.

Before Shiro has the opportunity to answer, Keith shouts, “CHECK PLEASE,” even though they already paid at the front. He stands up swiftly and books it for the entry.

“Keith–!”

He hears the sound of Shiro scrambling for his jacket and motorcycle helmet.

Keith flips Romelle off before leaving.

*

He ends up giving Shiro the address to his apartment and they take off on Atlas. Neither say much of anything as they speed down the highway at speeds of just illegal enough.

They eventually reach the building, and Shiro slows to a stop at the front door, kicking the stand down. He lets Keith help himself off, now that he knows of Keith’s experience, watching him with amusement in his eye. Keith stands up straight and pushes the helmet off his head, giving himself a gnarly case of helmet-hair. He hears a soft chuckle, and turns to see Shiro’s eyes still on him.

“What?” he asks defensively.

In response, Shiro leans in closer and raises a hand toward Keith’s face.

Keith freezes, eyes wide.

The hand brushes a lock of hair, tucking it behind Keith’s ear.

Keith thinks his heart stops beating.

Eyes softening, Shiro plucks something from Keith’s hair. He holds it in his palm for them to see.

A red petal of a snapdragon flower. It must have fallen from one of the bushes planted around the apartment entrance.

“Oh,” Keith says, cheeks red, as he combs a hand through his hair. He laughs to himself. “Didn’t even notice that.”

Shiro just smiles. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow?”

Keith nods. He finds he appreciates Shiro not once mentioning the whole ‘our boss wants us to bang on screen’ thing throughout the afternoon. “Yeah,” he says. “Thanks.”

Shrugging the camera equipment case on his shoulder, Keith parts from Shiro with a casual wave, amused when Shiro doesn’t leave the area until after he makes sure Keith gets inside the building.

*

Keith goes on a sunset jog a few hours later, music blasting through his noise cancelling headphones as he meets a steady pace with his large husky mix dog, Kosmo. Keith is stepping in place waiting at a crosswalk when he gets a call from Romelle. His face immediately sours upon reading her name on the screen. He interrupts his early 2000’s emo playlist (that he was listening to ironically, okay (except actually he’s also dead serious (he has opinions about some bands okay))) and answers the call.

“What the fuck do you want,” he says flatly.

“What the fuck do I want? What the fuck do I want?!” Romelle’s high pitched voice screeches through the headphones. “I want deets, Begay! I want the tea! Who the fuck? How the fuck? Where the fuck can I find the video?”

“There is no video,” Keith snaps. “He’s a new actor and I’m just a cameraman.”

Romelle bursts out laughing. “Why did you say it like that? Like it’s some forbidden love story—he was a porn star, he was a camera guy, can I make it any more obvious?”

Keith sighs, feeling a migraine coming. “There’s no video, sorry to disappoint. Also, you're such an asshole, Romelle—Shiro isn't a veteran.”

“Ugh oh my god I'm sorry I'm so problematic I'm sorryyyyy,” Romelle groans. “But the two of you have definitely fucked, right?”

“No,” says Keith.

Romelle falls silent for a long moment.

“But the two of you are definitely going to fuck, right?”

“No.”

“Are you fucking insane, Keithy? Could you not see how utterly besotted he was with you?!”

“I don't make friends with coworkers!”

“That is such a weird fucking boundary to have considering you work in porn, not an office!” Romelle shouts. “Hang on a minute. Lance is calling—oh, I know! Let’s have a three-way!”

“Phrasing,” Keith hisses.

“Soooo what's this I hear about a six foot four hunk of pure muscle wooing Keith today?”

Keith rolls his head back and groans. “Romelle I hate you so much.”

Lance is another ex friends-with-benefits situation in Keith's past. Keith had ended it because he could tell Lance was far more into him than he was. Now, Romelle and Lance have formed some weird duo where the only thing they have in common is that they've both had Keith’s dick inside them.

And now, apparently, they're trying to recruit a third into their little club.

“So it's true. The porn fandom on Twatter has been blowing up about this.”

Keith narrows his eyes. “The what now.”

“Shiro has a Twatter account, did you know? He only posts clips of videos he's done, but his most popular ones are by far all the ones where you talk about the camera guy. Everyone in the comments have been begging to see this mysterious camera guy that’s captured the attention of one of the biggest rising stars in porn this year.”

The call falls silent.

Keith thinks to himself, I hate you so much Lance.

“Are you fucking stupid, Begay?!” Romelle shrieks. “Are you hearing yourself? What do you mean, you're not going to make friends with him?! He wants you so bad he may actually cripple you!”

“Can we talk about Lance?!” Keith attempts to divert. “Why does he know so much about my place of work? Can we talk about that?”

“Surely your weird trust fund baby website would have sent you an offer for a video by now! Are you telling me you turned it down?!”

“I don't. Make friends. With coworkers,” Keith grits through his teeth.

“What's wrong with me following porn actors?” Lance whines. “It's not like I'm doing it because Keith works there!”

“Keith, how much.”

“What?”

“How much,” Romelle says, “did they offer you.”

Keith doesn't want to answer.

But the truth is, it's a lot.

A lot, considering that he only needed to use his voice and wouldn't have to show his face or body at all. He could make a significant amount of money by making a video with Shiro. But still…

It's too dangerous.

“KEITH WE LIVE IN A SOCIETY AND YOU HAVE TO SURVIVE CAPITALISM WITH WHATEVER IT TAKES EVEN IF IT MEANS TAKING IT UP THE BUTT KEITH I AM LOOKING OUT FOR YOU WITH YOUR BEST INTERESTS AT HEART AS YOUR FRIEND WHEN I SAY YOU NEED TO LET THAT MAN BANG YOU LIKE A PINKY TOE ON EVERY PIECE OF FURNITURE—,”

Keith ends the call.

Ha. He's still not considering Allen’s offer.