eat your flan


So ever since I saw that Shiro Mafia AU (which I honestly thought was a Kingsman AU) by @lordzuuko I have been itching to write something for it. And here it is. This is for Cathrel, thanks for creating such beautiful art dude.

Be warned I have no idea what it’s like to be a Spy orz so forgive the inaccuracies.

Disclaimer: The characters belong to DreamWorks.

(๑•̀ㅂ •́)و ✧

They’re shoved up against an alcove. Chests rising and falling as they try to quiet their breaths to not give themselves away. The smell of gunpowder, sweat and blood stick to their skins. Despite the issued guns Merlin gave them and the efficiency it gave to getting the job done much quicker, Keith preferred his blade and hand-to-hand combat training. Galahad told him he should learn to use the damned gun if he wanted get things done faster and saving him time or earning him extra to get the mission done. Keith thinks the man was a bit of a hypocrite considering Keith had seen feeds of his missions and watched him incapacitate guards and obstacles with his bare hands.

Keith strains his ears to catch the sound of fading footfalls. He hears the men speak in their guttural sounding language, it sounded German but not quite. He waits a few beats more to make sure the coast was clear. He tries ignoring the warm breath ruffling the hairs on his nape or the large hand on his waist. Or the fact that there’s warm liquid seeping into his suit. He grits his teeth, buries the screaming voice inside of his head and focuses on their current situation.

“K… Keith,” a voice whispers close to his ear. Keith ignores the labored breathing and steps out of the alcove pulling his companion along with him. They run and Keith spots a door, part of him tells him to keep moving. Their comms were down and Pidge wasn’t there to guide them. He does know that she’s doing everything in her power to restore the connection. Still, he knows he doesn’t have much time. But he also needs to do something first before they even begin to move.

He tries the door and he’s not surprised to find out that it’s locked. He digs through his pockets and takes out the lock-picking set Pidge had given him. He makes quick work of the door and pushes inside, Lancelot following suit. The room they got into was an office. There’s a large desk - complete with a desktop computer - near the windows, a couch, a bar in a corner and the generic things you would find in what seemed to belong to a high-ranking office worker.

Keith walks to the bar and grabs one of the bottles of alcohol. He digs through the drawers for a first aid kit and lets out a satisfied grunt when he does find it. Lancelot is leaning on the desk and Keith lays out the things he’ll need on the unoccupied space. He gently removes the hand putting pressure on the bleeding wound and checks it.

It’s not too deep, thank goodness. Keith shuts the voice up that’s telling him this is all his fault and mechanically starts cleaning the wound and patching Lancelot up. He could hear the grunts and hitched breathing as Lancelot bites off the sounds of pain. The idiot was still acting tough. Not that Keith would be any different. He is ignoring the twinge in his leg. Or that some of the blood staining his suit wasn’t Lancelot’s or the goons they had faced.

“Hey, Keith.” Lancelot calls him. But Keith only frowns and continues to wrap the bandages around his side. “Come on, Keith. You can’t still be mad at me. I said I was sorry.” Keith’s lips almost quirk at the definite whine tainting that deep smooth voice.

Focus, Kogane, he scolds himself, mentally shaking his head. He needs to get this done. Needs to make sure that he’s doing this right. Needs to assure himself that he’s doing something right. That Lancelot’s going to be all right. So concentrates at his task.

He scowls as the bandage loosens at Lancelot’s movement. “Shut up and stay still,” Keith growls in frustration as he pulls the bandages a little tighter in retaliation.

Lancelot grunts and even if Keith isn’t looking, he knows the man is frowning at him. “Be a little gentle, please? I know I probably deserve it for eating your caramel flan but I was too hungry and I’m an idiot for not checking if it had a note. I promise I’ll beg Hunk to make you some more.”

“It’s not about the damned caramel flan,” the younger man huffs as he finishes wrapping the bandages neatly.

“Then what? Is it Black? She didn’t grab your favorite hoodie, did she? You know how she likes your scent on it. Or did Lance get into your nerves again? Want me to talk to Hunk?”

Dammit Shiro. It’s none of those things!” Keith shouts, fists clenching and unclenching as the guilt gnaws at his insides. “I shouldn’t have pushed Galahad to let me come with you. Our mission was to gather intel. We were supposed to be in and out within fifteen minutes. Plug the thumb drive into the terminal and let Pidge’s program do its thing. But I insisted on checking the shipment that had just arrived and I almost jeopardized the mission and got you injured.”

He feels hands reach out and grab his own. He tries to pull away but Shiro is stronger and his hold tightens a little as he pulls him closer. The fight eases out of him and he grounds himself with the warmth of Shiro’s hand. Shiro always did have that effect on him. Keith was a raging storm and Shiro was his calm. When he feels himself getting ready to spring free like a dragon in chains, Shiro was the only person to settle him down.

You didn’t get me injured Keith,” Shiro tells him gently running his thumbs over Keith’s bruised knuckles. “I did that to myself.”

“But I—”

Shiro’s hand moves to hold his chin and tilts it so he’s meeting Shiro’s eyes the first time that night after he got wounded. “I did it to protect you. If it was anyone’s fault, it was mine. I didn’t think of a better way to stop it so I ran in front of that knife. Because if I didn’t, it would have killed you.”

Keith worries his lip, still refusing to accept that it wasn’t his fault that he had almost gotten both of them killed. “I could have handled it.”

“The man was aiming to pierce your lung.” The hardness in Shiro’s voice is enough to tell Keith that what he said is true. Even if Pidge is an amazing Merlin-trainee, there wouldn’t have been enough time to send an extraction and along with medics to get them out of there. He would have died on the way.

Shiro lets out a sigh and cups the younger agent’s cheek. “Keith not all missions go the way you planned them out to be. It’s part of our skill set to be able to adapt to any changes in the mission,” Shiro reminds him. “It’s why we’re great at being a Kingsman.”

“I know. I just— I was sc—”

Keith finds himself wrapped up in Shiro’s arms and his face pressed on the crook of the man’s neck. “Shh. I know. I know. I thought I’d lose you too.”

He buries his face closer to the juncture of Shiro’s neck and lifts his arms to wrap them around Shiro as well. His hands grip the material of the back of Shiro’s suit, careful not to jostle his injury. He grounds himself in the fact that Shiro, although injured, was all right. He would heal from this and he’ll be back to himself and in the field in no time. It was all Keith could hope for. Still, it scares him knowing that Shiro’s been doing this for years. That this knife wound was but another addition to the of scars decorating his body. It’s Shiro’s training that kept him alive this long. And that really is the least of it.

“Hey you know what’ll get me right as rain?” Shiro whispers.

“What?” Keith asks in a muffled voice.

“You familiar with that thing they say that kissing makes the pain go away?”

Keith extracts himself from the hug and stares at Shiro with incredulity. “I’m not kissing your boo-boo away Shiro.”

Shiro rolls his eyes exasperated. “I meant me, Keith. Kiss me.”

“You are ridiculous,” Keith deadpans. “Couldn’t you just have said that in the first place?”

“I thought you’d get what I meant, all right?” And Keith can’t even believe the fact that Shiro, youngest Kingsman to ever grace the ranks with a 90% success rate on missions, was pouting at him. “Come on, baby. I’m in pain here. Just one kiss and it’ll make the pain go away,” he pleads layering it with his signature puppy-eyed stare.

It was Keith’s turn to roll his eyes in exasperation. “I can’t believe I’m engaged to a dork.”

“But I’m your dork, my lovely Guinevere,” Shiro retorts with a boyish grin nuzzling Keith’s cheek. “So kiss?”

“As much as I hate to interrupt your romancing. The wizards are back online and we’re ready to get you out of there,” Pidge’s voice crackles to life into their comms.

“Couldn’t you have awaited a few more seconds?” Shiro huffs in slight annoyance.

Keith could have sworn Pidge cackled. “Dude, it’s not my fault I’m doing my job right. So shut up and listen to me carefully,” she shoots back, making Keith snort. They check their weapons and ready themselves to leave. Pidge is shooting off directions in their ears to get to the extraction point without getting caught or delayed.

Shiro meets his eyes, gun in his hand. “Ready?”

Keith nods, “Let’s get out of here.”

8. Dessert // Klance

« {Part 8 of my Valentine’s collection.} »

a/n: homesickness with gratuitous cuddling. enjoy!

“If you could have any food right now,” Lance asked, “what would you want?”

They’d been sitting on Keith’s bed going back and forth answering inane questions for the last hour or so. It was childish and sort of dumb, but Keith was also having the most fun he’d had in a while. A lot of the things Lance told him about himself were new to Keith. It shouldn’t have been that surprising, considering they’d only known each other for a few months, but they’d gone through a lot since they rescued Shiro from that government facility. Keith had a hard time remembering what his life had felt like without Lance in it.

“Hm,” Keith said, considering the question. “I guess I’d want something familiar—to remind me where I come from, you know?”

“Yeah…” Lance sighed, getting that homesick look he’d been wearing a lot recently. The expression quickly faded into something slightly more playful. “I’m not super familiar with Galra cuisine, so you’re going to have to give me some specifics—”

“I was talking about Texas, idiot,” Keith laughed. “I haven’t had Texan food in… a really long time, I guess.”

“Okay, hold up,” Lance said. “You’re from Texas?”

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