#jeiro

James hadn't been paying attention to the speech at all. It was a little ironic, getting a commendation for exemplary service and being one of the few people in the room not utterly captivated by the Admiral’s words. He knew what he'd done, what his team had done.

The first time the Galra showed up, Earth hadn't been ready at all. The next time, they weren't so lucky. Between Voltron, Atlas, and the upgraded MFEs, the alleged warlord that thought attacking the Resistance's stronghold was a good idea was obliterated in a matter of days. James and his team had struck the final blow to the flagship, saving the day and earning themselves some fancy medals.

James didn't care about the medal, not really. The man presenting it was who he really had his eye on. “...And so, it is my great honor to bestow the Distinguished Service Medal to these brave men and women, without whom most of us wouldn't be standing here today. Please rise.”

The entire room stood and looked up at the stage as the Admiral turned, heading towards James first. “Excellent work, Captain. You should be very proud of yourself and your team.” His soft, silvery eyes seemed to glimmer in the afternoon sun.

“Thank you, sir. It's my honor to serve.” James replied, keeping his voice quiet but steady as the Admiral pinned the service ribbon to his dress uniform.

The huge, floating hand made him nervous, but he took it when it was offered anyway. “I'm sure it is.” The Admiral said with a wink, handing the medal in its protective case over with his left hand.

James almost dropped it. Did he really just fucking wink at me? He stared straight ahead as Admiral Shirogane made his way down the line, pinning ribbons and handing medals to the rest of his team. The wink was burned into his mind and the rest of the ceremony went by in a blur.

The four of them turned and marched from the stage to a roar of applause as the Admiral made his closing remarks. James still hadn't caught his breath. A hand on his shoulder as he stared at the wall in the reception room made him jump.

“Jesus, Kinkade…” He grumbled, clutching at his chest.

James knew he was in trouble as soon as he saw Ryan's smirk. “Still? It's been years, man.”

His cheeks flushed. “Yeah, well. He's still… like that.” Shiro… Admiral Shirogane, now. It seemed like a lifetime ago that he'd been a dewy eyed cadet staring up at the gorgeous Lieutenant that convinced him to fall in love with the stars.

“You know he's with Keith.” Kinkade offered gently, trying to logic James out of his hopeless crush.

The worst part was, James knew Shiro and Keith would end up together after the first time he landed in the commander's office when Keith had punched him. He didn't know the brat's dad was dead and mom was MIA, he acted like a spoiled know-it-all, so that's what James had assumed.

It didn't matter. They were destined to be enemies, James thought sometimes in his more poetic and melodramatic moments. Competing against each other for the top spot in the Garrison and for Shiro's attention. One of those hadn't been a hard win, the other… he was still competing for hopelessly all these years later.

Keith had filled out, gotten himself a sexy face scar, and his poofy, ridiculous hair now seemed effortlessly gorgeous; of course Shiro would have noticed. James certainly had.

They had kissed once, when they were still round-faced, ill-tempered cadets. The Kerberos mission hadn't failed yet and Keith had been trying to stay on his best behavior so Shiro would be proud when he got back. It had been a stupid argument over sim time that devolved into a shouting match and James slammed against the wall expecting a punch but getting a tongue shoved halfway down his throat.

They never talked about it. They never talked again, actually. Not until James thought Keith was dead or captured by the Galra, not having seen him since he busted Iverson's face and walked out the door. But he showed up tall, dark, and mysterious and James was gone again right away.

“I know, Ryan. Just… leave it.” James finally murmured as the room started filling with brass and high level Coalition members.

Kinkade shrugged and grunted under his breath. It was his way of saying ok but I told you so. He made his way over to Rizavi by the refreshment table and shook hands with an alien standing there and James couldn't help the odd feeling of this is really my life now. He downed his glass of champagne and picked up another, hoping no one noticed.

The room was big, but it filled quickly. It seemed to get an awful lot smaller when the Admiral walked in, Keith on his arm. James didn't know which one he was more jealous of.

But God, they looked good together. Shiro in his snappy dress uniform with the chest weighed down with commendations, the four silver stars glittering on each shoulder, and Keith, tall and proud by his side in the armor of the Black Paladin of Voltron. He sipped his second glass of champagne more slowly.

They were impossible to ignore but James did his best. The dog-like alien talking his ear off about fleet formations helped. He was reaching for a third glass when Keith finally found him.

They still hadn't really talked, only over comms when the planet was at stake and that hadn't been the best time to say remember that time we made out or I'm still a little bit in love with your boyfriend or my best friend had to stop me from driving out into the desert to look for you for five years- the party wasn't either. But Keith gave him an easy smile and held out his hand, so James took it.

“Good flying. I'm impressed.” The compliment flowed from Keith's mouth like it was nothing.

It definitely wasn't nothing to James. “Can't let Voltron have all the fun.” He replied, letting go of Keith's hand and already ashamed of the way Keith’s voice curled into his gut and sat heavily.

Keith's smirk made it worse. It wasn't snide or competitive, it was amused and beautiful. “I was thinkin’ the same thing, actually.”

James's lungs froze in his chest as he followed Keith's gaze to other side of the room. Of course it landed on Shiro, standing there with Admiral Holt and his family, laughing and sipping at their glasses of champagne. “What…?”

He couldn't finish his sentence as Keith flipped a small card out of his sleeve and handed it over. James took it and stared at the numbers printed there in neat black ink. “Be at those coordinates at 0400.” The quiet command sent shivers down his spine. “Or don't. Up to you.”