#kattday

Matt, who had suffered even longer than Shiro under the Galra; Matt, who he hadn’t seen in almost two years. Matt, who since he joined the rebel group that broke him out of prison, had been fighting the Galra Empire just as fiercely as they have been.

Matt, the person who Keith had been desperately trying not to think too much about since the very beginning because he feared he would break down if he even let himself contemplate what could have happened to him.

Matt, the person Keith had a crush on at the Garrison, the person Keith realized he was in love with after the Kerberos mission was reported a failure.

And it was blissful, when they finally reunited after all this time. Because after losing Shiro once again, and being practically forced to lead Voltron for a time—upsetting team dynamics, upsetting the status quo in a way that left them reeling for some time until they finally learned to accept it, to adapt if they wanted to survive, if they wanted to keep fighting, if they wanted to save the universe—he was almost ready to close himself off completely.

And then—

And then, after a mission that went completely wrong, in the moment that everything seemed to be crashing down around him, they found each other.

Somehow, Shiro had ended up lost, floating somewhere in the middle of space, and Matt’s group was the one to pick him up. Keith didn’t really know the details of what happened after that, but he knew something for sure: they tried to contact Voltron for months. It was difficult; they were too far away, in opposing corners of the galaxy, and it was only fair chance, luck, a quirk of destiny that let the rebels locate them just in time to help.

The mission turned over on its head almost immediately, and suddenly they were the ones pushing, they were the ones gaining terrain and advantage and hope. Thanks to the timely assistance, they were victorious, and everyone turned to the Castle of Lions to celebrate and also give their thanks for the help.

Keith had been out of Black in a flash, she barely had time to land before he was running out, because he could have sworn that he recognized the voices and - yeah. Shiro was there, alive after months of grieving him, with some more scars added to his collection, but looking delighted as he twirled the princess around. And behind him, Pidge was bawling her eyes out while clinging to another man, shorter and leaner than Shiro but taller than Pidge, long brown hair—

Keith had completely frozen then, forgetting how limbs were supposed to work. He was not sure what sound, exactly, had he made just then, but it must have been loud and full of distress, because suddenly he was the focus of attention.

He couldn’t care less, though.

He couldn’t care because Matt was looking at him, with his eyes wide in surprise, and then he was smiling and Keith was running and then they were hugging, desperate and tight in a way that Keith didn’t remember ever hugging anyone before, and it felt good even if Matt was sweaty and Keith was crying and almost everyone else was looking at them in shocked surprise.

Matt had kissed his brow and then told him that he had missed him, and Keith had been unable to answer anything but a broken, “me too.”

This had been a couple of quintents ago, and after catching up with everyone and forming Voltron as it was supposed to be—with Shiro at the head in Black, Keith in Red, Lance in Blue—Keith now faced the burden of having to tell Matt that he was part Galra.

Because apparently, Shiro hadn’t had wanted to fill him in about that without Keith’s consent, which he was actually grateful for, even if it would have been easier for him if Shiro had.

“It’s your decision,” he had said.

Pidge had echoed the sentiment.

“It’s nobody’s business but yours, and everyone understands that. If you want to tell him, then go ahead,” she said, shaking her head and smiling crookedly at him. “And don’t be afraid—he loves you. He won’t change his mind just because you have a little amount of purple blood in your veins.”

He had chuckled then, drawing a deep breath that he hoped would fill him with enough courage to do this. Because even if Pidge was right and he didn’t need to tell him, Keith wanted to. Because he was sure that it was bound up to come up sometime, and he refused to let Matt learn about it in such a way. It was a part of him, whether Keith liked it or not, and he was determined to not keep it a secret from anyone he loved. It would be difficult to do so, too, what with the knife that he now used almost as regularly as his bayard, and the knowledge that his mother was probably out there somewhere. He would love to meet her if he had the opportunity, and he really wanted to be able to talk to Matt about this kind of thing openly.

The only way to do that was by letting him know, though.

So he clenched his fists and tensed his shoulders, and that night after dinner he asked Matt to talk to him.

“I'm—” He stumbled over his words, unable to look at the other man in the eye, fearing rejection so acutely that he felt like a spear was piercing his stomach. “I discovered some time ago that… that I’m part alien.” He closed his eyes tightly and frowned, taking a deep breath. “I have galra blood.”

Nothing happened for a moment, and Keith felt his heart stop. Why wasn’t Matt saying anything…?

Then he felt two arms close around him, pulling him closer to the other man’s body in a warm embrace that Keith wasn’t sure was real. He blinked his eyes open a made a questioning noise in the back of his throat.

“Matt?”

“I don’t care,” he declared firmly, his arms tightening minutely and then relaxing enough to put a small distance between them, in a way that let them look each other in the eye. Matt’s were honest, with a definite strength softened by warmth, and Keith felt such relief that his knees weakened. “You are still you.”