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Keith had a problem.
More accurately, Keith had many problems, but most of those problems could be traced to one thing: he was part Galra.
As a matter of fact, Keith was constantly astounded by the fact that the Galra were the source of pretty much all of his problems, big or small. If they weren’t busy conquering and enslaving the universe, they were busy passing on weird and awkward biological traits onto unsuspecting Paladins.
Maybe Keith was lucky in the long run; he didn’t really look like a Galra. Discounting his odd violet eyes and tendency to turn purple when exposed to Quintessence, Keith looked perfectly human. But there were…. Other things. It started with sharper senses- improved eye sight, hearing, and smell. And it wasn’t like Keith was complaining about that, because it was actually useful on missions.
But there was also the purring. It only happened on its own when Keith was supremely relaxed and comfortable, which was admittedly not very often, so it wasn’t a big deal. Although, Keith found that the purring was quite soothing to his anxieties, so he would sometimes purr just to comfort himself. This would lead to no small amount of teasing from the other Paladins, so he kept it to himself, and Keith had a new coping mechanism to deal with the stresses on intergalactic war.
So, Keith could handle whatever weird twists his Galra heritage threw at him. He just had to spin it around and make it work for him. His territorial behaviors manifested in a stronger urge to protect the Castleship, as well as carve out an area within the ship that he could be alone. His heightened senses were an asset to the team. He even became closer to the rest of the team, his family, because apparently Galra had strong family dynamics before the whole conquering and enslaving gig started up. Unfortunately, these deeper family bonds meant that Keith felt… Responsible? Protective? Keith wasn’t sure exactly what his Galra instincts were making him feel for his team, but he knew, deep in his bones, that he had to provide for them.
Keith first felt the pull on a routine supply gathering mission. Hunk and Coran were at a local market place on some random planet haggling for anything from food to tech, while Allura and Lance spoke to the planets inhabitants to gather any relevant information, and Pidge was... Well, Keith didn’t actually know what Pidge was up to most of the time and didn’t bother asking. This left Keith and Shiro with little else to do but take in the scenery outside and guard the Castleship.
“Shiro.”
“Yeah, Keith?” Shiro responded, barely quirking an eyebrow in his direction. He had been “meditating” since the others left, but Keith suspected he was just discretely napping.
“I am so, so, so, very, very, very, incredibly,” Keith began, raising his gaze to the alien sky.
“Spit it out, buddy,” Shiro chastised, with no hint of true annoyance.
“BORED!”
Keith flopped back into the lush alien grass. Or was it flowers? Did the human concept of plant families even apply on alien planets? He must have been truly bored beyond belief to even bother contemplating alien plants in the first place.
Shiro hummed in acknowledgement but offered no solution, so Keith sat back up and scanned the surroundings for the slightest hint of trouble. Or fun. Or anything at this point. He was beginning to zone out again when he heard a sound. Nothing intimidating, more like a scuffling, or a scurrying, or something else that implies small wildlife in the immediate area. Keith rose into a crouch, surveying the area with new interest as he drew his Marmora blade. His eyes flitted rapidly over the ground, searching for the source of the noise, when his eyes landed on some strange weasel-like creature, bright orange and slightly feathered down its spine.
Barely registering his own actions, Keith slowly crept towards the animal. For what, he wasn’t sure, but something deep in his gut urged him to stalk the creature, avoid its detection, wield his weapon. Surely this creature could be eaten. Would giving it to Hunk mean they had a new food source for their journey? Or maybe Pidge would like to inspect the creature, in her infinite quest to learn as much about the universe as possible. It didn’t look like it could be kept as a pet, so keeping it alive would be pointless. Keith inched ever closer in his crouching position behind the not-weasel, blade raised to strike-
“KEITH!”
Keith lost his balance and fell flat on his back, the not-weasel finally noticing him and scurrying farther into the wild surrounding them. He looked up at Shiro irritably.
“Hey, I almost had him!”
“Yes, but why were you trying to stab that alien squirrel in the first place?” Shiro asked, finally appearing conscious from his napping/meditating.
“It was more like a weasel, I think,” Keith muttered.
Shiro sighed pointedly, “Don’t avoid the question, Keith, I hate when you do that.”
Keith thought about what he was about to do, realizing that he hadn’t really had a reason to kill the not-weasel. It just seemed like the thing to do at the time.
Shrugging, Keith responded, “I don’t really know why. Something in me just wanted to catch it, or kill it, or something. I don’t know.”
“Could it be another funny Galra thing? Like the territorial thing?”
Keith kept his outward reaction blank, shrugging again, but in his mind he realized this was the most likely explanation. Maybe Galra had a natural urge to hunt, kill, draw blood. But even as he thought about the visceral nature of it, his mind thrummed with provide, help, feed, protect.
Keith could be a pretty introspective guy when he wanted to be, so as he mulled over the planned attack on the not-weasel, he had to conclude that it wasn’t some intense killing urge from his Galra DNA, because all he had really thought about was how the not-weasel could be helpful to his teammates- his family. So, Keith decided, it must have been some strange displaced desire to assist his team in any way he could. And with lack of not-weasels aboard the Castleship now hurtling through space, he would have to find some other ways to provide for his family.
It started with Pidge, more or less. She was the obvious contender, since she was a bit younger and quite a bit smaller than the rest of the team, and something unnamable deep in Keith’s gut said protect. So he started spending more time around Pidge, not speaking much, but in companionable quiet most of the time. She didn’t seem to know or care why Keith was hanging around so long as he wasn’t in her way.
Some night, long past when all the Paladins should rightfully be in bed, Keith watched as Pidge continued to type robotically on her keyboard, eyes flashing with the images on the screen. She looked absolutely awful, hair sticking out (more than usual anyway), bags under her eyes, with shoulders slumped almost into an upright fetal position.
Keith huffed, before nudging Pidge in the upper arm. “Don’t you think it’s about time to rest, Pidge?”
Pidge stared blankly at him, saying nothing. Keith, recognizing the familiar signs of intense sleep deprivation, merely pulled Pidge up from under her arms and half-carried her out of her lab.
“Ya know, it’s really not good to stay up for so long. You’ll push your body past its breaking point. I should know.”
Pidge gazed towards the floor, not seeming to have heard Keith speak at all. “Did you know,” Pidge began vacantly, not seeing when Keith rolled his eyes ever so slightly, “that I have absolutely the coldest toes in the known universe?”
Now it was Keith’s turn to stare blankly at his fellow Paladin.
“It’s honestly like they’re frozen, 24/7. Like maybe a Galra intruder snuck in and replaced my toes with a bunch of ice cubes and no one noticed until now.” Pidge didn’t seem to realize they had arrived at her bedroom door.
“That’s really interesting, Pidge.” Keith said dismissively. He gestured pointedly towards her door, watching as she trudged inside and flopped face-down on her bed.
Keith considered taking his own advice and heading to bed himself, but he honestly wasn’t tired. Maybe Galra didn’t need as much sleep as humans did. Instead, he found himself wandering to seldom visited parts of the enormous castle, peeking into different rooms. He came across a fairly small room that seemed more like a junk room than one with any particular purpose.
He began rooting through storage bins and piles of odds and ends, more out of boredom than anything. Most of what he found was too alien to be anything he recognized. He found one bin that was filled with pieces of cloth, clothing maybe, but they were either too small to be used for anything, or sewn into such confusing shapes that he struggled to imagine what types of bodies they could clothe. Some of the clothes had tube-like protrusions on them, maybe some kind of sleeves or something, and again without fully registering his own actions, Keith began cutting away the tubes with his knife. It wasn’t long before he had amassed a decent pile of clothing tubes and hurried back to his room.
Seating himself comfortably on the floor beside his bed, Keith pulled a small sewing kit out of one of his belt pouches. Luckily, he had learned to sew during his year in the desert, because repairing his own clothes just made more sense than spending what little money he had on new clothes that would just get ripped like the old ones. Keith went to work sewing one end of each cloth tube together, cutting away excess fabric and ensuring they were similar in length. Less than two hours later he had four pairs of what passed as socks. It would do until they could find better replacements, at least. He quietly snuck out to leave the pile of socks outside Pidge’s door before returning to his own room to catch some rest before breakfast.
Breakfast was as quiet and boring as usual. Everyone was sat around the table wearily eating food goo- except for Pidge, who had yet to arrive. It wasn’t unusual for the Green Paladin to show up much later than the others, most likely because she often stayed up late into the night. Eventually, though, the doors to the dining room slid open and Pidge shuffled inside.
“Whatcha got on your feet there, Pidgey?” Lance chuckled around a bite of food goo.
“Um… Socks, I guess? I dunno, I found them outside my door this morning.”
Keith looked down at her feet and realized the socks were a bit big on Pidge, slouching down around her ankles and looking very unfortunately like 80’s leg warmers. He felt a slight blush creep over his cheeks and focused back on his plate of goo.
“I know they look kind of silly, but they’re so cozy. I don’t know which one of you mother-hen dorks left them for me or how you knew I had ice-toes, but I’m keeping these forever.”
Pidge took her seat as the others looked at each other confusedly, no one speaking up to take credit but letting it slide. They probably assumed Coran or Hunk had left them, and Keith was content to let them. He felt much more at peace knowing Pidge liked the gift, and he didn’t need to answer any embarrassing questions about why he had given them.
So, this was going to be a thing.
The next gift went to Hunk. On yet another scouting mission, Keith came across a forest filled with fruit trees. Or, at least, they seemed like they might be fruit. He scanned them for potential hazards and gathered as many as possible when the scan came back negative. Back on the Castleship, he left the bag of fruit on a kitchen counter for Hunk to find.
Later, hearing Hunk gush about the delicious fruit he had found and all his plans to synthesize better tasting food goo with the fruit, Keith felt a swell of pride. He did that. He made Hunk happy, he helped make better food goo, and he provided for his family.
And so it went. Keith would find something one of his teammates needed or would enjoy, and he left it where they would find it. Usually in or outside their rooms, but sometimes other places they frequented.
Shiro found a tablet on his bed, with a game open on it resembling Sudoku. He used this game to calm himself late at night when nightmares kept him up.
Allura left her room to find a small pouch filled with different hair accessories- durable hair ties and many different kinds of clips and pins.
Hunk and Pidge both received more gifts of tech or tools they could use.
Each time Keith saw someone using one of his gifts, he felt a familiar swell of pride. Maybe he still didn’t spend as much time with his friends as he would like, but he could do this. He could help them in little ways they wouldn’t think to help themselves. There was just one hitch in this plan: Lance.
Of course it was Lance, because Lance was always a problem for Keith. Frankly, Keith just didn’t get Lance. He liked the Blue Paladin, but also kind of hated him. Or maybe just hated the things he did. For one thing, Lance basically never stopped talking, but for the life of him, Keith had no idea if he was actually saying anything. Most of what he said seemed to be nonsense with no substance, or rolled out too fast for Keith to follow. Normally this wouldn’t be a problem and Keith could just let it go, but now… Now Keith had no idea what to give to Lance.
Apparently, antagonistic relationship and false rivalry aside, Keith still thought of Lance as family. He still wanted to provide for him. But for all Lance talked about himself- his charm, his talent, and “Did you see that sick move I pulled out there?”- Lance didn’t really say much about himself. Most of it was pretty shallow. Keith knew things about Lance, sure, you didn’t merge with four other people in an enormous robot weapon and not get to know each other first. Lance was homesick, he loved his family, he had a religious dedication to moisturizing. But how did that translate into something Keith could physically give to him?
As far as Keith could tell, Lance was self-sufficient. He never said he needed anything, or even really wanted anything. Except to go home, or talk to his family, or maybe Allura’s hand in marriage, but that didn’t help Keith. He’d already spent at least two weeks mulling over what he could give Lance. He was the only one he hadn’t left anything for, while he had continued to give more gifts to the rest of the team. By now, all the pride he felt being able to provide for his family was overshadowed by the guilt of not being able to do so for Lance.
Keith was tired. He’d barely slept in days from the stressing over Lance’s gift- or lack thereof- and he still couldn’t sleep. Figuring it would be easier to think while moving, he set off for a walk around the castle.
As he passed the bridge, Keith noticed lights through the cracks of the door. He had assumed everyone else was asleep by now, so he curiously stepped inside. And who should he find but the source of his stress?
“Lance?”
He was standing at the front control panel, spinning through and endless sea of holographic stars around them.
Lance barely turned halfway around to glance at Keith before turning back and continuing, throwing a casual, “Hey,” over his shoulder.
“What are you doing up?” Keith asked, walking closer to the control panel.
“I could ask you the same thing. Out leaving more gifts like a good little Christmas elf?”
Keith’s shoulders stiffened. “You know about that? How?”
Lance snorted, still focused on the star map. “It’s kind of obvious, isn’t it? I never got any gifts.”
Something in Lance’s tone set Keith on edge. “So?” he asked cautiously.
“So, if I never got any gifts, and you never got any gifts, it has to be one of us right? And since I know I haven’t be doing it, that means it’s you. That’s all,” Lance finished bitterly.
“That doesn’t sound like that’s all. And none of that would actually prove that it was me. Maybe everyone was leaving each other presents.”
“Fine,” Lance finally turned to face Keith, his face carefully blank. “If it were anyone else- or everyone else- I would have gotten something. But I didn’t, and that means it’s you, because you’re the only one that hates me enough to leave me out.”
Keith stared at Lance, baffled by his teammates words. His face was blank and his voice was even, but something flashed in his eyes. Something Keith wasn’t used to seeing there. He looked offended. Not the usual kind of offended when the two of them argued- more like hurt. Had Keith hurt Lance?
“Lance, I didn’t…” Keith started, unsure how to actually have an honest conversation with the other boy. This wasn’t talking strategy or goofing off in the lounge. This was honest to goodness emotional honesty, and he didn’t want to screw it up. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. Or leave you out.”
Lance narrowed his eyes. “Who said I was hurt? Or even wanted some stupid gift from you?”
“Shut up, Lance. I can tell.” Keith took a deep breath, preparing for possibly the most awkward conversation he’s had since coming to space, “I’ve spent weeks- weeks- trying to figure out what to give you. But you, I dunno, you don’t seem like you need anything. I have no idea what I could possibly give you because you just seem like you have everything taken care of.”
Lance’s face softened dramatically. “Huh… So you just. Don’t know what I want?”
Keith nodded.
“Well! I can help you there, buddy, because I want LOTS of things,” Lance exclaimed, throwing an arm over Keith’s shoulder. “I want pizza and garlic knots. I want new music on my phone because what I already had coming up here is getting old. I want a flat screen TV and some new video games. I want…”
“Lance! That’s exactly the problem! I can’t give you any of those things. I’m not Space Santa!”
Lance laughed obnoxiously right by Keith’s ear, his arm still around Keith’s shoulders. “Space Santa?”
Keith rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”
Finally stifling his laughter, Lance said, “Yeah, I know what you mean. To be honest, I don’t know what I want that you could give me either.” Keith grunted in frustration. “Well, I mean, okay don’t make fun of me…”
“What is it, Lance? Tell me.”
Lance hesitated a moment longer, dropping his arm from Keith’s shoulder. “I guess, I mean… I could use someone to talk to?”
Keith cocked an eyebrow. “You are literally always talking.”
“Hey, I said not to make fun of me,” Lance shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at Keith. “Besides, I mean like serious stuff, not just goofy stuff like I usually say. I want to be able to talk about my family and missing home and all that junk, but everyone’s usually too busy with Voltron. And in what little time we have to relax, I don’t want to bring everyone down by moping.”
“Well, um, I don’t know if I’m the best person to talk to about family and stuff,” Keith scuffed the toe of his boot on the floor. “But I can listen, if you want.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
So, they talked. Mostly, Lance talked, but Keith tried his best to listen and take part in Lance’s rambling and stories. Both had sat on the floor, backs leaning against the control panel. After a while the two ended up leaning their shoulders against each other, fatigue finally beginning to set in from staying up so late.
“Hey, Keith, can I ask you something?” Lance asked, stopping suddenly in the middle of a story about his youngest niece.
“Uh, yeah I suppose.”
“What made you start this whole gifting thing in the first place?”
Keith shifted awkwardly. That question was exactly why he never took credit for any of the gifts. It was kind of embarrassing. “I dunno, actually. One day I just got the urge to give you all things and like, provide for you or something. I figured it’s like some weird Galra thing.”
Lance sat up straighter suddenly, leaving Keith to flail slightly before catching his own weight again.
“Oh my GOD,” Lance shouted.
“What!?”
“This is proof! Galra really are evil space cats!”
Keith gaped at Lance momentarily. “Are you kidding me?”
“No, no, hear me out. Cats bring like, dead birds and stuff to their owners all the time. That’s their instinct- to provide food for their family unit. You’re a space cat!”
“Lance, no.”
“And there’s the purring. I’ve heard you purring to yourself when you think you’re alone. Don’t even deny it. You’re a space cat.”
Keith sighed, settling back against the control panel. “Fine, I guess I’m a space cat then.”
“Thank you for admitting it,” Lance said, also leaning against the control panel again, as well as leaning back into Keith’s side. “And, if I’m being honest, it’s kind of… I mean, it’s adorable.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Lance responded quietly, leaning his head onto Keith’s shoulder.
“Good to know,” Keith said, resting his head on top of Lance’s. “And, Lance?”
“Hmm?” Lance hummed sleepily.
“You can consider this a gift that keeps giving. Anytime you wanna talk again, come find me.”
Keith felt Lance nod his head, too tired to form a proper response.
Both boys drifted off to sleep, still sitting on the floor of the bridge, stars surrounding them. A gentle rumbling filled the room. If you asked Keith, it was probably Lance snoring.
It was definitely, definitely, not purring.