A/N: Just getting to know the characters before grander projects to come...

In the Morning

Keith didn't sleep. The strangers had all but passed out after the adrenaline burn. They'd talked, and babbled amongst themselves in excitement and confusion, but none of them had lasted long before his sofa was a snoring ground.

Keith ignored them. They'd been.. Useful? He hadn't planned on a rescue mission. He'd had no way to carry an unconscious person. That didn't make them welcome exactly, but they'd been more than dead weight. And to be completely honest, he'd been glad. Without the company, he might have thought he'd finally lost his mind.

He'd known something was coming from the skies. He hadn't been prepared for him.

Shiro slept. Keith had settled him in his bed, covered him with a blanket carefully. He'd gone to make sure his 'guests' knew better than to touch anything, and almost hadn't gone back in the bedroom, he was so scared what he'd find.

All he'd found was Shiro hugging the pillow close to his chest, sleeping like the dead. Drugged, the others had told him. By the very people he'd been trying to warn.

"Where have you been?" Keith whispered to him.

Shiro did not move. Keith tugged the blanket a little higher on his friend and checked the clock. Almost five AM. Almost twelve hours since everything changed again.

He had known it wasn't pilot error, and they'd thrown him out of the program for the truth.

He glanced to Shiro once more, then nodded firmly to himself. He wasn't much of a cook, and he wasn't about to play the happy host to the three garrison cadets in the study, but Shiro would be hungry when he woke up. Keith hoped…

He snuck into the kitchen, tiptoeing past the study where the three others slept. The only one who's name he'd caught was the annoying guy, and he'd promptly forgotten it. He frowned as he realized that annoying guy had managed to claim the proper sofa, and was now drooling on it. The other two were leaned against its side, snoring. Keith stuck his tongue out at the annoyance and closed the door quietly, wincing when it creaked.

From the fact that the snoring didn't stop, he was fairly sure he hadn't awakened anyone.

His cabin wasn't terribly well stocked. He hadn't had a real 'job' in a long time, and he was running low on funds. But he had some eggs still, and some bread. Eggs and toast would probably be okay. Shiro had never been really picky…

How much could someone change in a year?

He couldn't fry eggs to save his life, but he could scramble them alright. He scowled at the work, shifting the bright yellow around in the pan and trying not to wonder how long it had been since Shiro ate eggs. Trying not to wonder what one ate before crashing into the atmosphere in an alien spaceship.

"He was talking about Aliens," the big guy had said, his eyes wide and his expression deep with concern. "He said they were coming. What if they're coming now?"

There weren't answers yet. And Keith wasn't about to let them start asking first thing in the morning. Breakfast first, he promised himself. For Shiro, at least. The others… Well. He had some cereal. That'd be fine for them. Garrison lackeys would appreciate the treat, probably.

Something shifted behind him, and Keith scowled to himself, tossing the eggs in the pan with a little flip that didn't do what he had hoped. He didn't quite fling eggs everywhere, but he didn't flip them either. He scowled down at them and gave up, pushing them around with his spatula instead.

He hoped it was big guy or little fella who'd woken up and not the annoying dude.

"Keith?" said a low, strained voice behind him.

Keith dropped the spatula with a clatter and whirled around. Shiro hovered in the doorway, still dressed in the strange, tattered shirt, his white hair sticking up a little from sleeping face down.

Keith wanted to hug him to pieces. Wanted to drop everything and run to him and welcome him home. But Shiro's eyes weren't warm and confident, like the man he'd known. He watched Keith like he was waiting for him to disappear or attack. He was wary, and hesitant. His sharp, clever eyes darted to the mostly-closed door, then back to Keith. Confusion knit between his eyebrows.

"Hey," Keith finally managed, staring at his friend. "Thought you might be hungry when you woke up."

"How…" Shiro blinked heavily, shook his head. He looked so lost…

Keith only barely remembered to turn off the stove before walking over to him. He moved carefully. There was something off about Shiro. Something wild, and tense, and frightening. He didn't want to startle him. He watched fixedly as Shiro lifted his mechanical right arm to rub at his other shoulder.

"Saw the ship crashing," Keith said. Details later. "When I saw it was you, I wasn't about to leave you there. There are a couple other fans of yours in the other room who… Helped."

Kind of, he thought.

Shiro looked up at him, a tight frown on his lips. His jaw muscles clenched and jumped. Keith had never seen him look so tense.

"I made you eggs?" He offered softly. "I don't have tea… And I know you're not a big coffee drinker first thing in the morning…"

Shiro stared at him a long moment longer. A moment that seemed to drag on for years. Then a tiny smile touched his face.

"You didn't have to cook for me." He said, his voice suddenly more like himself, his eyes suddenly a little softer.

"I wanted to," Keith said. He wanted to ask. He wanted to know. Where were you? What happened to you? He held his tongue. "Come sit down?"

He gestured to the little table and its one chair. Shiro glanced from it to him, and narrowed his eyes a little in confusion. He didn't comment, though, only walking over and sitting slowly. Every motion he made screamed of exhaustion. He rubbed at his eyes with his human hand, and took a slow breath that probably should have been a yawn.

"They drugged me." He said with a small, annoyed frown.

"Yeah," Keith agreed. "Assholes."

Shiro grunted in agreement.

They told us you were dead, Keith wanted to say, watching Shiro a moment too long before grabbing one of the two clean plates he had and shifting the eggs over onto it. The toast sprung out of the toaster, and Keith jumped a little in surprise. Not half as much as Shiro had, though. The chair clattered behind him as he gained his feet in an instant. His hands lifted aggressively, ready to fight. Keith stared, and couldn't bring himself to feel bad for staring. Shiro was already pulling himself together again, giving a soft, self-derisive chuckle and stooping to pick up the chair.

Keith pretended not to notice that his hands were shaking.

"Sorry," He said instead of any other comment. "Here. Eat up, okay? Did you sleep well?"

"You have no idea how well." Shiro said softly. "That bed was pretty soft. Yours?"

"Uh, yeah…" Keith hedged. He'd thought the old mattress was horribly lumpy ever since he took over the cabin.

"Thanks for letting me borrow it."

"Any time," Keith said, watching as Shiro lifted the fork in his metal hand. It looked so strange on him. So perfectly ordinary, and yet impossible.

Shiro took a bite of eggs, and made the softest, strangest sound in the back of his throat. Keith averted his eyes, went to clean up his pan. He'd indulge in cereal too, in case Shiro wanted more of his dwindling egg supply.

He glanced over, and pretended not to notice as Shiro hastily wiped a tear away. If he'd been shaking before, he was trembling now. But Keith didn't know what to do with that information. Didn't know what comfort to give, if there was any. So he focused on the cleaning, on giving Shiro a moment to experience what he was experiencing. There would be time. Shiro was alive now. There would be time.

"I'll go find you something to wear, okay?" Keith offered. "That doesn't look… Comfortable."

"It's not," Shiro agreed around a smile, in control again already except for the slightly red tinge in his eyes. "But Keith, no offense, you're a little smaller than I am. And it doesn't look like you're at the garrison, so hard to commission anything."

"I'm pretty sure I have something," Keith said flippantly, waving a hand.

"Got a tall roommate?" Shiro asked mildly.

"Nah," Keith muttered. "Got kicked out of the garrison, so I stole a bunch of stuff from them."

"Keith!" Shiro admonished, frowning a little and setting down his fork.

"I know, I know," Keith waved his hands at Shiro, skirting the table. "I'm very sorry, it was super irresponsible, won't happen again. Just eat some, okay? I'll see what I've got."

Shiro sighed, but nodded his agreement. Keith had almost left the room before he heard Shiro speak again.

"Thanks." The man whispered, his shoulders bowed.

"Any time." Keith repeated, and he still meant every word.

He was more than delighted to find that the only thing he had in Shiro's size was an officer's uniform. It fit him perfectly. In more than one way.