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Hunk wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting for a Galra prison ship, but rows of cages stacked in a cargo hold was definitely not it.
He and Keith weren’t alone in their predicament. There were all kinds of different aliens in the hold with them, each in their own individual cage, and from that Hunk knew that they came in sizes much larger than his. Unfortunately, the Galra seemed to have deliberately given him one that was a size too small, just enough to be uncomfortable.
Well, maybe he shouldn’t complain. Keith’s was even smaller.
Hunk sighed and adjusted his position, pulling one knee closer to his chest to rest his head against. His neck ached from being bent for the last several hours, but short of laying down, it wasn’t going to be straight again for a while. And Hunk really didn’t want to lay down-- the bottom of his cage showed clear evidence of whatever hapless creature had occupied it before him. He tried not to think that the weird green stains were blood, but there wasn’t really a better alternative.
“Getting any escape ideas yet?” he murmured quietly to Keith, who scowled and shook his head. If they hadn’t been stripped of their armor and bayards Keith probably would’ve found a way to cut through the cage bars at this point, but alas, the Galra weren’t always idiots. Hunk could hear the small clinking sounds Keith was making as he fiddled with the lock on his cage door, but he didn’t have much confidence in that method. If it hadn’t opened to Keith’s Galra genome yet, it probably wasn’t going to.
Their only hope now was that the others would catch up with the ship and bust them out. Which they would, eventually, the only question was how long it would take… and what the Galra would do to them in the meantime.
“Damn it!” hissed Keith, giving the lock an irritated jerk. “Of course we get stuck on the one Galra ship in the universe that uses manual locks.”
“This one isn’t a warship,” Hunk reminded him, keeping his voice low to avoid attracting the attention of the guards. “It’s for transporting slaves, remember? That’s why Pidge thought her dad might be here.”
Keith groaned and smacked the lock again in retribution. “Fine. Whatever. We’ll just have to figure something else out.”
At that same moment, a loud buzzer began to ring through the room. Keith winced and covered his ears, but across the way Hunk noticed another caged alien perk up and scoot closer to the door on its cage. After twisting himself into a bit of a pretzel, he was able to get a glance through the bars and see what was happening.
“The hold doors are opening,” he informed Keith. “Looks like a bunch of guards are coming in.”
“Drones?” Keith asked.
Hunk looked again, squinting. “No, looks like people. And they’re carrying a bunch of stuff. Trays, maybe?”
Keith gave a quiet grunt of acknowledgement, and Hunk settled back down into the most comfortable position he was able to achieve within the confines of his cage. Keith was still leaned forward, watching the guards as carefully as he was able as they worked their way methodically down the rows.
The cargo hold was large, and it was several more minutes before Hunk got an idea about what the guards were doing. They seemed to be approaching each cage and opening the door for a few moments before closing them again and carrying on. It took another minute before he realized the purpose of the exercise-- they were distributing food.
A part of Hunk relaxed at that realization. The food they were going to get probably wasn’t going to be great, but he’d been worried about receiving anything when they’d first been captured. At least this way they wouldn’t have to be worried about their physical strength when the time came to bust out.
Eventually the guards made it to their row and began to work their way down. Hunk shuffled back in his cage, not wanting to give them an excuse to beat on him, but Keith stayed still, crouching in front of the door with an analytical glint to his eye that almost reminded him of Pidge. Hunk wanted to ask what he was doing, but before he could the guards appeared in front of them.
There were two of them, one holding a ring of various keys (at least, Hunk assumed they were keys, they mostly looked like USBs) and the other carting a box full of food goo packets. They chatted and laughed with each other as they went about their work, completely ignoring the reality of the caged prisoners around them.
The one with the keys reached down for Keith’s door first. Hunk was expecting some hostility from him, maybe a glare or a growl. What he didn’t expect was for Keith to launch himself at the guys legs, barrelling straight into him and tackling the guard to the ground.
Hunk froze in surprise. The other guard didn’t; in the span of a few seconds he’d dropped the food goo, grabbed Keith by the scruff of his neck, and peeled him off like an angry cat.
The guard didn’t hesitate. With a snarl of annoyance, he gave Keith a rough backhand across the face. Blood spattered on the floor outside Hunk’s cage from his split lip.
The first guard regained his feet while his partner stuff Keith back into his cage, even with his half-hearted struggling.
The guard latched the cage door shut, then the other kicked it angrily.
“New prisoners-- useless,” spat the man Keith had initially attacked, paired with a withering glare. Keith glared right back. “Always have to be broken in.”
Hunk felt his whole body go cold as the other guard sneered. “Well, we can start the process right now.” He bent down to collect the dropped goo packets, then very pointedly moved past Keith’s cage without stopping and paused before Hunk’s.
His blood began to roar in his ears as the cage door jiggled and opened. He cast a panicked look in Keith’s direction, and got a frantic headshake back, so he stayed where he was and didn’t try anything as the guard dropped the packet of food goo inside.
“No point in wasting supplies on a defiant slave. Slaves that don’t do what they’re told aren’t worth the cost.”
Keith’s stony look never cracked. With a few more cutting remarks the guards moved on, and Hunk finally managed to stop gaping like an idiot.
“Keith,” he hissed as Keith sat back and began lightly prodding at his bleeding lip. “What the heck was that? If you’re going to make an escape attempt you have to tell me first!”
“I wasn’t,” Keith replied. He took a cursory look around, then pressed his fingers against the bars of the cage. For most of the cage they were tightly woven, horizontal and vertical bars of metal, except for the first row around the bottom, which were slightly larger. Through those gaps Keith managed to pass something to Hunk.
It was a handful of metal fragments, each at least four inches long.
“Found ‘em in here,” Keith breathed, taking pains to keep his voice low. “You can use them to work on picking the locks.”
Hunk was still confused. “Ok, but what does this have to do with you attacking the guard?”
“To keep their attention on me. If I cause a fuss every time they come, they’ll always be focused on me and leave you alone while you figure things out.”
Hunk couldn’t help it-- his jaw dropped again. He said it like it was obvious, like antagonizing their captors purposefully and taking the brunt of their retaliation was a foregone conclusion.
Keith frowned and shifted uncomfortably at Hunk’s expression. Narrowing his eyes, he asked, “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Keith, that’s-- you don’t have to do that. We don’t need to, I can just hide the picks when they come.”
“Better to be safe than sorry,” Keith said solemnly. “We don’t know how things go on these ships. What if the guards get bored and come looking for someone to torture?” He shook his head and wiped at the blood on his chin. “Better me than you. You’re the one who’s gonna get us out of here.”
“Gee, no pressure,” Hunk said, floundering.
“It’ll be fine,” was all Keith said in answer. Hunk was silent for a minute, beating back the anxiety surge that had come with Keith’s words. Then his eye caught a glimpse of silver foil from the food goo packet and it came right back again.
“But they won’t feed you if you keep doing that.”
Keith paused and blinked, like that detail hadn’t occurred to him. Then he made his expression into one of feigned indifference. “I’ll be fine, we’ll probably only be here for a few days.”
“That’s still a problem, Keith,” said Hunk, aghast. “You can’t just go a few days without eating!”
Keith rolled his eyes. “I won’t die. That’s what matters.”
Hunk, flummoxed, couldn’t think of an answer. He didn’t know Keith terribly well, but the longer they worked together in Voltron, the more he became convinced that Keith had exactly no self preservation instinct.
He also knew that Keith was the most stubborn person he’d ever met-- he wouldn’t be able to convince him to forgo his chosen plan.
So, with a grim feeling of determination, Hunk turned his attention to the metal scraps Keith had given him.
If this was how Keith wanted to play it, he could just have to figure it out fast.
Hunk was overreacting.
It takes humans up to three weeks to actually starve to death. He knew for sure they weren’t going to be on the ship that long; if Hunk didn’t get them out, then the others would catch up eventually.
Besides, Keith had gone without eating before. His record was about thirty six hours, if he remembered correctly. It wasn’t that bad. He could handle it.
In the hours after the first food distribution, his growling stomach didn’t bother him at all. What was really getting to him was being in such a confined space, not being able to stretch out. His muscles were beginning to cramp and lock, no matter what ridiculous position he twisted himself into in his attempts to ease them.
Hunk had been hyper-focused on the lockpicking for that entire time. He looked so determined, an expression of deep concentration on his face, but sheer force of will does not a jailbreak make. Some hours later he sat back in defeat.
“The metal’s too thick,” he explained when Keith asked what the problem was. “I’m going to have to file them thinner or something, which will take a while.”
Inside Keith ground his teeth in frustration. He hated being cooped up, unable to move, but for Hunk’s sake he restrained his emotions. Hunk was the one who would get them out, unless he got scared and froze up, which is exactly what would happen if Keith didn’t keep his cool.
So he simply said, “Do what you have to do,” and locked his restless impulses in a box, kicking it to the back of his metaphorical mind closet.
Hunk was working on it. He just had to be patient and wait. Patience yields focus.
He repeated that to himself on a loop as the hours wore on. At some point he must’ve fallen asleep; he had no idea how long he slept for, but when he woke Hunk was still filing away on his bits of metal, and according to him, the guards had not yet made a reappearance.
Based on that, Keith figured the prisoners were on a once a day feeding schedule, which was good. It would make it easier to keep track of time.
He began to really feel the hunger over the next few hours. He’d passed the grumbling stomach stage and entered the nausea and shaking stage. Good thing he was locked in a cage and didn’t have to do anything physical, right?
Some time later the buzzer began to ring, accompanied by the sound of the hold doors opening. His muscles shrieked and protested, but still Keith made himself get into position behind the cage door.
“Keith, don’t,” Hunk said beseechingly as he wiggled and wormed the bits of metal into the sleeves of his flight suit. “Look, they’re hidden, just let them think the lesson stuck last time.”
Keith ignored him and rolled his shoulders, wincing at the stretch and ache. Hunk didn’t get it. Most of the time that was fine-- it was good that he hadn’t had to make these kinds of choices before. But Keith was experienced. He knew that keeping the attention of the attacker on one person benefited the whole. He knew that if he wasn’t that person, the guards could easily hurt Hunk instead, which was simply not an option. Finally, he knew that he could take the consequences.
Living alone and penniless in the desert had gotten him intimately familiar with the limits of the human body.
He could do this. He knew he could.
The guards made their way up and down the rows. Keith could tell by their echoing voices that it was the same two as the day before. Good, they would already be predisposed to focus on him rather than Hunk.
Finally their footfalls entered their row. Keith shifted in his position, stalwartly ignoring Hunk’s harried whispers. The cut in his lip throbbed in time with the beating of his heart.
The voices quieted as they approached Keith’s cage. The footsteps halted right outside the door, then one of them kicked it, giving Keith a harsh jolt that nearly knocked him out of position.
“Did you learn your lesson?” said a voice from above him, so patronizing it set his teeth on edge. “Are you going to be a good dog now?”
Keith bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood and didn’t answer.
The other guard laughed at his friend’s comments, and a moment later Keith saw the lock on the cage door begin to turn.
Here we go again.
The door opened, allowing a tiny amount of full light to cut through the gloom of the cage, and just as before Keith threw himself out of it.
This time the guard had been expecting it. Keith’s lunge was met by a kick in the chest, so hard it knocked his body back inside and all the air from his lungs, leaving him gasping in pain.
The guards laughed. “One day you’ll pass the test,” one of them said with faux pity as they closed the door again.
“Either that,” said the other, “or you’ll die.”
Through the adrenaline rush of pain in his ears, Keith heard the creak of hinges as they opened Hunk’s cage next.
“And now the good one,” said a guard, a moment later accompanied by the plop of a goo packet being dropped inside. “Your friend could learn a lot from you.”
Hunk didn’t say anything. Keith lay on his side, breathing through the pain until the guards continued on. Neither of them said a word until the buzzer sounded and the hold doors closed again.
“Seriously,” Hunk said as soon as the buzzer stopped. “This is a ridiculous idea, Keith. You have to stop.”
Gingerly, Keith sat up. He was going to have one hell of a bruise, but he didn’t think anything was broken.
“It’s working,” he said as he settled his back against the cage wall and tried to catch his breath. “They didn’t look twice at you.”
Hunk made a sound of frustration, but said nothing more, and a few minutes later Keith heard the sounds of metal against metal resume.
He let his eyes fall shut. He was covered in cold sweat, gut churning, his hands shaking even when he folded his arms and pressed them against his sides. Adrenaline wasn’t great on an empty stomach, but he would survive. He always did.
Soon after their encounter, Keith’s body entered the next state of hunger, the one he called the hungry void-- in his head, at least. At this point the grumbling and nausea had stopped, replaced simply by an emptiness in his stomach. His limbs felt light, like they were full of helium, and still trembled like leaves. A hunger headache pounded behind his eyes, which he attempted to soothe with sleep. It didn’t work, of course, but it was better than being awake and bored out of his mind.
God only knows how much time he spent like that, drifting in and out of consciousness as the fatigue grew and his empty stomach ached. He wasn’t completely out of it, not yet, but he wasn’t going to expend the energy required for concentration unless he had to.
All the while the metal sounds continued as Hunk labored away. Everytime Keith came back to reality it was there, like it never stopped, and eventually he worked up the motivation to ask.
“Have you been resting at all?” he mumbled to Hunk. At first he thought he hadn’t been loud enough, until the sound of filing stopped.
“No,” Hunk admitted. “I’m trying to get us out as quickly as I can.” He added a frustrated noise. “Before you starve.”
“‘S only been two days,” Keith said. A weak excuse that was immediately shattered by the loud sound of the buzzer.
“Three days,” said Hunk. If they’d been able to see each other clearly, Keith would’ve flipped him off.
It took longer this time for Keith to get positioned. He wasn’t going to go for another lunge; they already knew to expect that. No, this time he had another idea.
The sequence was exactly the same as before. The guards worked their way closer. Keith prepared himself and tried to make his vision less fuzzy. This time, however, Hunk didn’t try to talk him out of it. He must’ve realized that it was futile.
Something, probably a hand, banged on the roof of Keith’s cage a couple of times.
“Wake up,” said the now familiar voice of one of the guards. “Time for your lessons, naughty dog.”
Keith scowled to himself. It was good that they sounded so disturbingly gleeful, it meant they were really focusing on hurting him and not thinking about Hunk, but that didn’t erase the hatred he felt building up inside him.
The cage door jiggled and opened. There was a pause, the guards obviously waiting for him to try his usual tackle trick, but Keith stayed perfectly still.
The guard hummed in satisfaction. “The lesson’s finally starting to sink in, eh?” he said smugly. It pissed Keith off, but still he didn’t react. “Well, good slaves get rewards.”
Keith waited until the silver package was fully inside the cage, handing from purple fingertips. Then he sprang up, buried his teeth into the flesh, and locked his jaw to hang on.
“Ah!” the guard cried, along with a word Keith didn’t recognize-- possibly a Galran swear. The guard jerked, trying to knock him off, but Keith didn’t budge. “Damn mutt--!”
A fist crashed into Keith’s eye. The force was enough to make him let go, sending him crashing to the floor of the cage. The door slammed shut behind him, the packet of food goo still outside and out of reach.
The other guard, the one Keith hadn’t bit, gave a low, angry growl that made his hair stand on end.
“This one’s never going to be worth anything,” he spat. The voice moved, and there was some clinking to indicate they were continuing on their way, still angry and ranting. “I think we should get permission to put it down.”
“Good idea,” said the other vindictively.
Keith kept his eyes closed, trying to make himself less dizzy. He wasn’t worried-- the guards might not know who they were, but the captain had to know about the Paladins of Voltron. They would want to deliver them to Zarkon alive.
“Keith?” murmured Hunk. “Are you alright?”
It took him a minute to come back to reality, but he tried to hide his momentary space out when he answered.
“Yeah, I’m good. Just a bruise.”
Hunk then gave a huff that Keith had no idea how to interpret before replying.
“I think I’ve got the picks to the right size. As soon as they leave I’ll start trying to get the locks open.”
“Ok,” Keith mumbled. His focus was slipping again, and this time he let it go. His attack had taken all of the energy he’d been building up, and now he just wanted to rest.
It would be another day before they came back. He had time.
“Keith? Keith!”
Someone was jostling him-- shaking him awake. He groaned in displeasure and tried to bat the hands away, but they were insistent.
“Come on, you gotta wake up, man! We’re getting out!”
Getting out… wait, he knew that voice. Hunk.
He opened his eyes. It was dark and hard to see, and his body felt like all of his bones had been replaced by lead, but he recognized the shape kneeling in front of his cage. The open door of his cage.
Instantly he was up. Hunk made a surprised noise at how quickly Keith scrambled out, but he couldn’t help it.
There was a half second of pure relief when he felt the cage bars fall away from him. Then he tried to stand, and static filled his vision as he began to topple over.
“Woah!” Hunk exclaimed, catching him just in time. “Oh man, you are so sick.”
Keith shook his head, ignoring how it made the cargo hold spin around him. “‘M fine, we have to get the others out, the other prisoners--”
“Oh no you don’t!” Hunk said as he helped Keith stand, leaning a good amount of weight against the Yellow Paladin. “The first thing we need to do is get us both home.”
“We can’t just leave them here--”
“You can barely walk right now!” Keith had never heard that tone directed at him before. That tone that Hunk got sometimes of deep, almost vehement, concern. If he sounded like that, then maybe Keith was worse off than he thought. “We are going to find our armor and the Lions, and we’re going home!”
“Ok,” said Keith, caving far more easily than he normally would. He was too tired to argue. “Ok.”
“Ok,” Hunk agreed. He settled Keith’s weight more comfortably, looping one of Keith’s arms over his shoulders. “Let’s go.”
When Hunk’s voice came over the comm system, Shiro could’ve died right then from relief.
Ten minutes later the whole team was in the Lion hangars, watching as Red and Yellow landed. Shiro was practically vibrating-- they’d been missing for three days. The Galra could’ve done anything to them in that amount of time.
Yellow dropped his ramp first. The second Hunk emerged he was mobbed by an enthusiastic Lance and Pidge, and from what Shiro could tell, seemed to be in fair shape. A little browbeaten, a little scruffy, but ok.
Then he heard the hiss of hydraulics as Red lowered her ramp. Shiro turned, and the floor fell out from under him.
Keith was barely upright. Shiro rushed up the ramp and barely got there in time to catch him as his knees buckled.
Up close was even worse. He had a black eye and a cut lip, the bruises deep black against the pallid white of his skin.
“I’m ok,” Keith said as a reflex, pushing against Shiro’s chest in an attempt to get his feet under him. “I can walk.”
Shiro, barely restraining himself from swearing, answered, “Ok, just hold onto me, I’ll help you.”
Keith accepted that amount of help, thankfully, and together they made their way down Red’s ramp.
“Infirmary, please, Paladins,” Coran said with an anxious glance in Keith’s direction. “Let’s get you checked over.”
Lance and Pidge immediately set about shepherding Hunk in the right direction. Allura approached and ducked under Keith’s other arm to assist, despite Keith’s quiet protests. Shiro’s head spun the entire way to the infirmary. It didn’t make sense-- why did Hunk look fine when Keith was so roughed up? He had a sneaking suspicion that Keith had offered himself up as a sacrificial lamb, which, as much as he wanted to, Shiro couldn’t condemn without making himself a hypocrite.
With his quick pace, Coran beat them to the infirmary. When he and Allura brought Keith in he was already armed with his scanner, waving it over Hunk.
Shiro and Allura brought Keith to one of the cots and set him down, Allura hurrying off to help Coran while Shiro stayed to study the wounds on Keith’s face.
“Ouch,” he said with a sympathetic hiss. “These look like they hurt.”
Keith just shrugged. He seemed to be struggling to focus, his eyes hazy.
“He’s got a bruise on his chest, too.” Shiro turned to see Hunk, utterly ignoring Lance’s attempts to get him to sit down and take his armor off.
(Keith, Shiro noticed, wasn’t wearing his).
Shiro nodded in acknowledgement. “Anything else we should know about?”
Hunk’s face twisted. “They-- they weren’t feeding him.” Concerned frowns appeared on Allura and Coran’s faces, and Hunk’s words began to devolve into anxious rambling. “He kept-- I mean, it’s their fault, but he kept-- I told him not to, I tried to make him listen--”
“Hey,” said Lance, putting a hand on Hunk’s shoulder. “You don’t have to do this now. Give yourself a few hours, you just got home.”
“Lance is right,” said Coran, “we can take care of Keith. You should go rest, Hunk, you shouldn’t need any pod time.”
Hunk hesitated, looking conflicted, but Pidge stepped forward and commanded his attention.
“Where’s Keith’s armors?” she asked. “Did you get it back?”
He blinked, not having expected the question, but after a moment answered, “It’s in Yellow, in the hold.”
Pidge immediately hurried off, presumably to fetch it. Lance began to lead Hunk out of the infirmary, and Shiro turned back to Keith. Some of the anxiety had been assuaged now that he knew the why behind Keith’s condition, but that wasn’t going to make the recovery process any easier.
Allura and Coran joined them at the cot, both wearing expressions of concern.
“Mind if I do a quick scan?” Coran asked Keith. “Just to make sure nothing’s broken?”
Keith made a tired, grumpy sound, but turned away from Shiro just enough for Coran to wave his scanner over his torso.
Coran studied the display for a moment, stroking his moustache thoughtfully. “No broken bones or internal damage. The only other problem seems to be the beginning stages of starvation.”
“I’m fine,” Keith insisted again, words slurring together. “I just need to eat a few bowls of food goo and it’ll be fine.”
“No,” Shiro broke in. “No, you won’t be. We’ve done this before, Keith-- if you eat a bunch now you’ll just get sick later.”
Keith sighed and leaned his head on Shiro’s shoulder, letting his eyes fall closed. “Fine. Whatever.”
That’s when Shiro understood the depths of Keith’s exhaustion, and judging by the concern on Coran and Allura’s faces, they did, too.
“Shiro,” said Allura, “what do we do?”
Shiro took a moment to breathe. Most of the fear had quieted down, leaving post adrenaline nausea and the lingering pangs of panic. After a few seconds it all settled, letting him think clearly again.
“He’s not going to be able to eat a lot at once or he’ll get sick. First we need something to settle his stomach. Do we have any of those crackers left from last week?”
Allura bobbed her head in a quick nod. “I think so. I’ll go fetch some.” She headed for the infirmary doors while Shiro turned to Coran.
“We’ll need blankets, too. Once he gets some food in him his body will put most of its energy into digesting and he’ll get cold.”
“Right away,” Coran replied before he, too, took his leave. Now the two of them were alone, and Keith didn’t even seem surprised when Shiro asked his question.
“What was Hunk talking about?”
Keith huffed a breath and opened his eyes. He still seemed too tired to sit up, let alone try to avoid Shiro’s questions.
“I had to keep their attention,” he grumbled quietly. In their position, with one of Shiro’s arms around his shoulders, he could feel the light shaking of his body. “So that they wouldn’t notice Hunk getting us out. So they didn’t feed me.”
That’s what Shiro hadn’t wanted to hear. As though sensing his displeasure, Keith continued, “It was only three days, Shiro. Humans can live a lot longer than that without food.”
Shiro clenched his jaw to hold back a sigh. Even after all these years, Keith still held his own needs in such disregard. A prisoner of war probably had higher expectations of their captors than Keith had for his everyday life.
“I know,” he said eventually, squeezing lightly around Keith’s shoulders. “That doesn’t mean it wasn’t dangerous. It doesn’t mean you don’t need a recovery.”
Keith didn’t say anything to that. He just let his eyes close again, and for the next few minutes they sat in silence, waiting for the Alteans to return.
Coran came back first, bringing with him an armful of blankets scavenged from empty rooms. He put them down on the end of the cot for the moment, then retreated to a far corner of the room where he could keep an eye on things without intruding.
A few moments after that Allura returned. In her hands was a small bowl of food goo and a juice pouch, and one of the levitating plates floated in behind her, laden with the thin crackers Hunk had figured out how to make the week before.
“There weren’t many left,” said the Princess as she approached the cot. “So I brought a little bit more, just in case.”
Shiro let go of Keith to receive the items, making sure to put a smile on his face for reassurance. “Thank you, Princess.”
“Of course.” She tapped a button on the plate to turn the floating mechanism off, set it on the small table by the cots side, then quickly straightened up again. “Is there anything else I can do?”
“No, we should be fine for now,” Shiro answered. He could feel the pressure as more and more of Keith’s weight settled against him; he would want to rest soon. “I’ll let you know if we need anything else.”
Allura still looked a little worried, but all the same she nodded to Shiro and took herself out of the infirmary, probably going to check on Hunk if Shiro had to guess.
“Ok,” he breathed out, gingerly scooping up one of the crackers so that it wouldn’t break in his metal fingers. “Here, Keith.”
Keith accepted it with a trembling hand. He raised it to his mouth and nibbled a bit on the edge as Shiro got the juice pouch open, then promptly devoured it in two bites.
“Can I have another one?”
Shiro chuckled a bit to himself as he handed Keith the juice and another cracker, which he demolished just as quickly as the first.
“Take it slow,” he advised. Keith ignored him and ate another. With a smile of relief still on his face, Shiro got to his feet and draped one of Coran’s blankets around his shoulders. It wouldn’t be long before he would be shivering and sleepy, but that was alright.
He would be right there beside him.