Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Context

“Where is Shiro?!” Keith snapped. Lotor raised an annoyingly delicate eyebrow.

“I believe you just stabbed him.” All eyes turned to the dark shape across the room-- the clone of their Black Paladin. A fake. A lie. It hadn’t lasted long, thankfully the team saw through the trick fairly quickly thanks to some brief meetings led by none other than their resident sharpshooter. 

Lance didn’t want to imagine what might have happened if they hadn’t figured it out sooner. 

The only problem was that they’d shown their hand to the wrong person-- the wrong galra. Lotor was a betrayal that none of them had ever truly expected. Sure, it made sense now. But a quintant ago? Lance would have never even dreamed of it, no matter how much he didn’t like the guy; he’d been willing to just chalk it up to trust issues from being in a war. 

Pidge scoffed. “That wasn’t Shiro and you know it: that was a bloodthirsty copy of the Galran’s champion. There is no replacing him.”

Lance drew his bayard, ready for anything as Lotor seemed to deliberate his options mentally. 

“Fine,” the prince said finally. Hunk, Keith, and Lance shared a look of unease while Pidge subtly contacted the Castle, letting the two Alteans know that they should be ready for something unexpected. Allura had initially insisted on joining the Paladins to confront Lotor, but when Pidge pointed out how close she and the traitor had gotten, the princess relented. They all agreed that the further she was from that… creep (in Lance’s humble opinion), the better. 

“Fine?” Keith echoed, confusion making his eyebrows knit together. He shifted his stance uneasily, no doubt trying to get a read on the situation. Pidge and Hunk shrugged, unwilling to discuss their theories aloud lest their enemies hear. Lotor was too unpredictable to risk it. 

“Okay, Paladins,” Lotor called suddenly, startling the defenders out of their confusion, “I have sent for your precious leader. The druids will deliver him shortly.”

Something in Lance’s chest loosened, despite the pit of mistrust and worry continuously roiling and aching in his stomach. Something was not right. 

Luckily, they didn’t have to wait long for the other shoe to drop. 

“I’d like to propose a trade.”

“What?!” Pidge sputtered. “What could you possibly hope to gain from us?! Just give us back Shiro and we’ll-”

“For this trade to work, I want the Blue Paladin.”

What. The. Fuck.

Lance stared at the purple shampoo ad, not quite understanding.

Then it clicked. Keith opened his mouth -- probably to refuse like the responsible leader he’d become in so short a time -- but Lance didn’t give him the chance. 

After a moment to adjust his stance, cocking his hip to the side and mirroring the Galran in raising an eyebrow in confusion and distaste. “Wait,” he intervened. “Want me how?”

Lotor, for all his bravado, seemed very taken aback. “What?”

Lance chuckled quietly to himself before putting on his biggest, least PGg grin. “I mean, I assume both options involve ropes, but it’s an important distinction to make.”

“Lance!” Keith interjected, looking scandalized while the rest of Voltron present stared on in minor horror.

“This is how I cope. Leave me be,” Lance bit back quietly. “Now go make a plan while I distract him.”

***

Common Core

Pidge dragged herself down the hallway from Green’s hanger, hoping to escape to her room and get a quick nap in before training later that day. 

Was it her own fault that she was exhausted? Yes. Did she make the decision to stay up long past her allotted bedtime to scroll through code and read prisoner files? Absolutely. Would she make it again? She was definitely going to do so that night. 

But that didn’t mean that she wasn’t absolutely dead on her feet. 

It was fine though. She had plenty of time to sleep. The halls were still dark, but would be fully lit fairly soon if Pidge’s surprisingly well-honed internal clock was anything to go by. 

Didn’t matter. She had plenty of time. 

Absolutely plenty.

The Green Paladin trudged into her room and plopped down onto her bed with a grateful sigh.

The next thing she knew, her alarm was going off. 

She scrunched her face up angrily, realizing with a sigh that she had not, in fact, had plenty of time to sleep.

Fucking dammit.

Rolling out of bed, Pidge stumbled back down the hall and hoped beyond anything that her coffee stash would help her get through the day. If it didn’t, she knew that her day was going suck.

Here’s hoping, right?

It had never let her down in the past.

As she entered the kitchen, Pidge was greeted with the sight of the rest of Voltron lounging at the table, chatting quietly as they ate breakfast. She mumbled something along the lines of “g’morn’ng” to the chorus of greetings she received. None of them responded, which was just fine as far as the Green Paladin was concerned. She was not a morning person. Pretty much everyone else on the ship was, with the exclusion of maybe Shiro: the only reason he was at all alert/chipper in the mornings was because his morning had begun farrr earlier in the day. 

They knew to not push her until there was caffeine in her system. Pidge was grateful for this. 

From what she could gather, Lance and Hunk were regaling the others with stories of their time in public elementary schools in America. Keith and Shiro had had far from “standard” childhoods, so the two were taking great delight in tales of the legs of Voltron’s antics. The two Alteans in attendance were also enraptured by the stories, no doubt fascinated by the wild earthen tales.

“-- And the math questions? Ha!” Lance was chuckling. Hunk nearly spat out the drink he’d been in the middle of at Lance’s words.

“Dude oh my gosh!” he cackled. Upon seeing the confusion and bemusement from the table, Hunk took the narrative back from his friend. “They’d be these weirdly specific story problems to give us ‘real world examples’. But they were always so wacky and out of place that there was just no way they’d ever happen.”

“Like,” Lance thought for a second, “‘Marlen has 32 watermelons; he eats twelve. How many does he have left?”

Pidge snorted from where she stood next to the coffee maker. “32 including his head.” 

Haha get it? Because… because his head is a melon, too?

Why is no one laughing?

The entire table had fallen dead silent, looking at Pidge with a mixture of confusion and concern as the machine beeped angelically behind her. 

“What?” Pidge finally asked. 

“What math are you on?” Lance questioned, eyes wide and eyebrows nearly hitting his hairline.

“Yeah Pidge, you good?”

Pidge found that she could only stand and blink at the two, suddenly realizing that she had no idea what she just said. 

Shiro sent her back to bed with no coffee and no computer.

***

Word Choice

Hunk was just trying to enjoy himself. He wasn’t looking for trouble. Wasn’t looking to cause any existential crises. Nope. All he was was a simple guy enjoying his first day off in a while. Voltron was finally whole again, Shiro was more and more like himself everyday, and the coalition was thriving. 

No fuss, no muss, no coconuts.

Lance and Pidge were with him, laying on their backs and observing the oddly hypnotic atmospheric patterns on their current planet of occupation. The sky seemed to almost fluctuate colors as they moved their gaze to different parts of their vision. Hunk was enjoying the way it looked sort of purple to his left, and then light blue straight above his head, and then -

And then Lance got bored.

“So,” he began out of nowhere, “I’m no english expert--”

“That’s an excellent start,” Pidge chuckled, not unkindly. Lance still reached over to poke her under her ribs.

“Hush, gremlin. Anyway. I’m no english expert. But it seems like we assign verbs to nouns based solely on their particular abilities.”

Hunk’s brow furrowed. “What, man?”

“Like, um,” Lance floundered for a moment, clearly trying to think of the perfect answer, “what does a toaster do?”

“It toasts?” Pidge answered uneasily. 

“Yup,” Lance agreed. “And it only toasts. Nothing else. It doesn’t ‘char’ or ‘broil’ or ‘bake.’ It just toasts. And a reclining chair?”

“It reclines!” Hunk replied, still unsure of where this was going, but happy that they so far seemed to be with Lance’s train of thought. 

“Exactly! It doesn’t cradle, or lift, or fold. It reclines.”

“Lance, where exactly are you going with this?” Pidge sighed, clearly unhappy that she wasn’t in the know. 

“What does an oven do?”

“It bakes.” Pidge turned her head to look at Lance directly. “And in some cases it can broil.”

Hunk nodded in agreement.

“So, then,” Lance pressed on, “we agree that those are the only two verbs associated with ovens? And therefore the primary actions?”

“...yeah?” Hunk looked over at Lance then, becoming less and less sure that he was following.

“So,” Lance said again, “theoretically, if we were to put a bowl of water in an oven, we would be baking water?”

Pidge sat fully up and stared down at the Blue-turned-Red Paladin. 

“What the fuck,” she breathed.

Hunk sat up, too. “Wait- wait, hang on.” Hunk’s hands moved through the air as he spoke, flailing as his rambling worsened. “That- that’s not- there’s no way that’s true. Because you wouldn’t be baking the water- you’d be boiling it, right? Pidge? Lance?”

“Yeah, Lance. It wouldn’t be baked. Water is a liquid; you can’t bake liquids.”

“I’m not saying we would be. You’re both right-- the water would be boiled. But…” Lance sat up and pursed his lips in amusement, “you would never say, when speaking proper english, that you boiled your water in the oven. You don’t boil things in an oven. Like we said, we either bake or broil.

“Therefore, we can bake water. You’re welcome.”

Silence reigned for a few moments as Pidge and Hunk processed their friend’s words. 

Pidge recovered first.

“Mother fucker,” she hissed. “I can’t believe you! You- what the fuck, Lance?!”

Lance was laughing now, cackling really, as he watched his friends question reality.

Hunk just shook his head. “Lance?”

“Yeah?” 

“You suck, man.”

Lance only laughed harder.

***

Bragging Rights

Keith knew he was no marksman. Frankly, no one on the team was aside from Lance and maybe Shiro-- the Black Paladin had a habit of continually surprising Keith with random skills.

No one else thus far, however, had ever measured up to their Blue Paladin’s shooting abilities. 

That didn’t stop Keith from being annoyed whenever Lance decided to brag about it. That in turn did not stop Lance from deciding to brag about it. And that confidence trickled over into Lance’s usual battle quips and reactions, which didn’t bode well for their enemies egos at best, and got Lance in more trouble than strictly necessary at worst.

This was maybe one moment where he really needed Lance to shut his fucking mouth. Because it was one thing when it was him and his “rival” bickering about Keith’s shooting ability or lack thereof; it was a completely different can of worms when dealing with an angry alien council and their preferred choice of execution: firing squad. 

Honestly, it wasn’t even their fault this time. Their intel had been faulty and Keith and Lance had come into the presence of this species with no idea of their customs. Nor of how poorly their culture looked upon most human idiosyncrasies. 

Lance had finger-gunned. Keith had rolled his shoulder to get it pop (it was sore; sue him).

Both were apparently highly offensive gestures. No, Keith had no idea how that worked. But whatever.

Perhaps their only saving grace at the moment was that the council liked things dramatic and theatrical, so rather than have this done close ranged, the executioner was all the way across the arena, roughly 35 paces away, and was now carefully preparing to shoot Lance in the head.

Keith was doing his best to get a grip on his bayard or knife or hell, that sharp rock to paces to his left to try and do something to stop this. He’d tried negotiating-- as had Lance-- to no avail. The only other thing they had to do was fight.

Well, that was the only thing Keith had left to do, apparently. Lance had resorted to hurling insults across the arena at the alien wielding the intricate crossbow/shotgun hybrid. At first, Keith had been desperate to get his friend to stop, but ceased his efforts as soon as he saw what Lance no-doubt had: 

The executioner had to pause his preparatory motions each time Lance opened his mouth.

It was like the rule that no one could have their heads cut off if they were wearing a hat. So long as Lance kept being a nuisance, he continued to buy them time for Keith to escape or for the others to arrive. They’d managed to activate their distress signal before being taken into captivity, but neither knew if it had actually reached their team in the atmosphere. 

It was a stupid plan. But it was working.

Keith kept a glare fixed Lance’s way though, for every insult hurled. At first the insults didn’t make sense, especially seeing as he could tell his literal life story and have pretty much the same impact. The only difference would be the lack of highly offended and enraged aliens pointing weapons at him. 

And then he reassessed the self-sacrificial idiot he was partnered with.

Lance was keeping all the attention on him so that no one would go after Keith. And it pissed Keith off to no end.

There was no reason for him to be putting himself in more unnecessary trouble. 

When they got out of this, Keith was going to kill him.

“This has gone on long enough,” one of the elders finally sighed. “Make haste, executioner. Daylight is waning.” Keith’s heart stopped.

Oh no. 

No no no no no no-

Lance stiffened noticeably, and the executioner chuckled quietly. 

“Do not fear,” the alien rumbled. “My aim shall be true. This will be over soon, Esteemed Elders.”

The Blue Paladin scoffed across the arena. “You couldn’t hit water if you fell from a fucking boat.”

All aliens present stiffened in outrage, as they had for the last however-long-they’d-been-captive. 

“Cease this insolence!” screeched a different alien. “You shall be silent!”

“I don’t know, I liked that one.”  

Keith could have collapsed from the relief coursing through his veins as his helmet filled with Shiro’s voice. 

“Shiro?!” he gasped.

“Sorry about the wait, guys. Hope we’re not too late.”

Keith finally caught Lance’s relieved gaze as he answered. “You’re right on time, Pidge.”

Lance gulped nervously as he caught the look in Keith’s eye.

He was so dead.

***

What I Wish Happened

“I TOLD YOU TO STAY OUT OF THIS!” Shiro roared, rounding on Lance angrily. To his credit, the boy didn’t so much as flinch. After a beat of stunned silence from all parties involved, Lance’s features hardened and he crossed his arms, unimpressed.

“Good for you, Shiro; way to assert your authority. But did I ask?”

***

Bamf

Shiro’s fist hit the door of the cell with a resounding THUDD that made his head throb. The door didn’t budge one bit; it wasn’t going anywhere. Shiro sighed angrily before turning back towards his team. 

“No use,” he reported unhappily. Lance put a hand on the Black Paladin’s shoulder. 

“It’s all good Shiro. Don’t forget-- Allura and Coran are on their way right now. We won’t be here long either way,” he said with a pained smile. 

It had been an ambush; one of Zarkon’s spies had managed to get intel on where Voltron was taking refuge to refuel and gather supplies. They’d been caught entirely off guard-- easy prey for the Galran forces to capture and shove into cells. The only silverlining Shiro could find was that Allura and Coran had remained free of the skirmish and were presumably coming for them as Lance spoke.

The entire team was sporting various knicks and burns. Shiro knew that within a day or so-- depending on how long they were stuck (Shiro prayed it wasn’t more than a day, but he’d also learned the dangers of too much hope in captivity)-- they’d be sporting some impressive bruising. 

But for now, they were overall thankfully okay. And they were alone.

That was a good thing.

As if hearing Shiro’s thoughts, the door behind him suddenly burst open. Shiro whipped around in surprise, already flinging an arm out to make himself a bigger target rather than the Paladins (children, his mind whispered) behind him. Keith snorted once before pushing forward to stand next to Shiro, much to his dismay.

Shiro tried to make Keith understand through a desperate look, but Keith’s gaze only hardened determinedly. The Black Paladin internally sighed.

“Ah, good,” a deep voice warbled in the doorway. Two hulking Galra stepped through, accompanied by a slimmer--but no less intimidating--Galran right around Lance’s height. The latter Galran is the one that spoke. “I see you two are making my job far easier.” The Warbling Galran then turned to the two behemoths. “Take the Black and Red ones.” 

Shiro stiffened as he heard the rest of his team object, Lance pushing through the two targets to stop the Galrans.

“Don’t you touch them!” he snapped, pointing a finger out angrily. 

“Lance-!” Shiro started.

“Move, child,” Warbler warned.

“No! You try and take them and I’ll… um…“

“Lance what are you doing?!” Pidge questioned frantically. 

“Shut up, Pidge,” Lance said easily, still not budging. “I’m being a bamf.” It was then he turned back quickly and winked at her.

They didn’t have any warning before the behemoth nearest Lance suddenly sent him flying towards the opposite wall, away from his team. Shiro choked on his breath, instinctively moving towards the groaning Paladin.

Keith snarled a “Hey!” before he attempted to lunge at the offender. Hunk intervened and held his friend back, frantically calling after Lance at the same time as Pidge let loose a slew of words she and Shiro would need to discuss later on the Galrans.

Warbler regarded the scene calmly, seeming to come to a conclusion.

“Change of plans,” he said quietly. “Bring the Blue Paladin. I want to see what other reactions we can get from the prisoners with him.”

***

Diagnosis

“I don’t know why you continue to resist, Paladins,” Haggar noted derisively. “There is no reality in which you win. Surrender now, and the empire shall look upon you with kindness.”

Keith snorted and fell back into a fighting stance, waiting for Shiro’s cue to go. “As if we’d ever do that.”

“You will not win this one, Haggar,” Allura countered earnestly. “Stop this now.”

Haggar shook her head, feigning sadness. “A shame. So be it.” 

The witch’s eyes glowed in a signal to the surrounding army, and the battle began. Lance fell back, finding a high vantage point to shoot from. He’d be of the best use to his team from up high. 

It took him a moment, but Lance eventually made it up a tall-ish rock structure. From there, he wasted no time in picking off enemy soldiers left and right. His team was doing very well, and Lance realized that they wouldn’t need much support from him.

Which was fine, because that meant he could keep an eye out for a certain tricky bitch.

Oops. He meant witch.

There you are, Lance thought darkly, crosshairs finding the cloaked figure on the edge of the battlefield.

However, before Lance could fire off a single shot, the witch’s gaze suddenly met his though the fucking scope and she disappeared into thin air.

Lance had time to think oh shit before said witch appeared in front of him , her downward strike just barely missing Lance as he rolled off the rock and onto the ground with a thud.

“Submit, Paladin!” she hissed, following him down and lunging once more.

“How about no?” he replied, dodging backwards and bringing his leg up to successfully kick her back.

“The time of the Galran empire is now. Voltron will not be enough to stop us. You will not be enough to stop us.”

Lance swung his gun forward, catching Haggar in the jaw. Her hand caught his arm as she fell, however, and electricity coursed through Lance agonizingly. He stumbled, barely catching himself.

As he watch the witch try and regain her composure, Lance took the time to clearly train his blaster on her, silently daring her to make a move. She, instead, snarled angrily, but stayed put. 

“I don’t know what your problem is,” Lance said blithely, “but I bet it’s hard to pronounce.”

Haggar snarled once more before disappearing. Again.

***

Anagrams

Pidge had always been a sucker for word games. She blamed Matt. Matt blamed their mother. Their mother blamed “that Takashi boy Matt is always with.”

Truth be told, it was actually her father.

But that wasn’t the point.

The point was that Lance also loved anagrams. 

And they’d made a realization:

“Takashi Shirogane” is awfully close to “Shitaki Shirogane”

And they were never letting that go. 

Parades: “MAKE WAY FOR BLACK PALADIN SHIITAKE” (“Lance please we’re in public.”)

Meetings: “Commander Shiitake, would you like to see the notes from last meeting? (“Pidge I’ve asked you two to not use that in public.”)

Meals: “Shiitake, please pass the mushrooms.” (“That’s barbaric, Lance.” “Hunk, not you too!”)

Battles: “Guys, converge on Shiitake!” (“Lance I swear to god.”)

Training: “Ooooh. Shiitake Sparring today.” (“Pidge, please take this seriously.”)

They all pretended they didn’t see the amused smiles from their favorite mushroom whenever the name came up. 

Chapter Text

Read the Room

“Fancy meeting you here.”

“Lance, I swear to god-”

“Always nice to have someone to hang out with.”

Keith looked up at his bound feet above him, trying to get just a little bit of wiggle room. “Shut up.”

“Oh my apologies,” Lance warbled. “Wouldn’t want to disturb you when you seem tied up.”

“I’m going to stab you.”

“That’s knot something I’d recommend.” Lance swung quietly next to Keith, grinning expectantly and waiting for acknowledgement that Keith refused to give. “Although, if you could reach your knife that’d be great,” he added after a moment, something different in his voice.

Keith turned towards his friend, concerned at the sudden change in demeanor. “What’s your deal?”

“Um. You know how we sprang both of these traps and you were all like, ‘we need to get out of here before whatever set these traps comes back’?”

“That’s not at all how I sound!”

“I think I found that ‘whatever’.”

***

Monsters and Morons

“Mama!”

Silence.

“Mama!”

Mrs. McClain never considered herself to be a heavy sleeper, which made for an interesting time being the matriarch of a family as large (and as loud) as hers. She snapped awake at the call for her name, adrenaline already building as she sprinted down the hall to her young son Lance’s room.

“Lance! Mijo! What’s wrong, baby?”

The young boy’s head popped up from beneath the blanket he was hiding under. “Mama, there’s a moron under my bed!”

“Oh honey- what?” she asked after a moment, fully processing that her son had not said what she was expecting. “A moron?” She sat down on the bed next to her son, wrapping him in a hug as he answered her.

“Yeah! There’s a moron under my bed!” A small, timid grin was already creeping across her son’s face, the fear she’d seen earlier melting away as he spoke.

“Baby, don’t you mean ‘a monster’?” Not that she wanted this to be the case, but that was at least one she was used to hearing. Veronica and Rachel had decided to make “Monster Repellent” the day before after becoming frustrated with the number of alleged monsters plaguing their room at night. Mrs. McClain had watched in amusement as the girls worked, determinedly mixing child safe scented soaps and water with a drop of “magic water” (a few essential oils their mother wasn’t using and said they could use). 

“Nope! A moron!” Lance was full-on grinning at this point. “My friend Hunk told me that a moron is a stupid person! And this monster is a stupid person!”

“Oh?” 

“Yeah! Any monster who decides to be under my bed when my mama is around to protect me is a moron!”

***

1,2,3. Eyes on me.

Shiro sighed, looking over to Allura, who gave him a matching helpless look.

Voltron had had a great mission. Really, Shiro was incredibly proud of them. But they really needed to debrief for the evening.

So far, they’d had no luck getting any of the younger Paladins’ attention. They were all still celebrating and (passionately) discussing their highlights.

“Shiro-” Allura started warily, hands twitching as though she was itching to cover her ears against all the noise.

“I got it,” he answered firmly.

And then he panicked.

He didn’t got it.

Years of training and touring around different schools came flooding back.

“IF YOU CAN HEAR MY VOICE, CLAP ONCE.”

The Alteans clapped, looking bemused but as always were happy to be included.

The rest of Voltron fell silent. Lance clapped, seemingly on instinct before his eyes widened in horror and his hands fell to rest, firmly clasped behind him.

Pidge’s jaw worked quietly, trying to process what had happened while Shiro quietly questioned everything that had led him to this point.

“Shiro,” she began calmly, her face anything but. Keith beat her to the punch.

“What the fuck.”

***

Family Game Night

“No one ever wants to play Yahtzee,” Hunk mourned quietly. 

“That’s a coward’s win and you know it!” Pidge spat at Keith, paying no mind to Hunk.

“Okay, but I won, didn’t I?” Keith defended, leaning back and crossing his arms.

“Yeah, with a draw four wild!” Lance exclaimed incedulously. “There’s no way that’s a legitimate win!”

“What does the rulebook say, Shiro?” Keith asked, instead of answering the Blue Paladin. Shiro looked up from where he was buried in said rulebook, expression lost. 

“Guys, I haven’t played this game in forever. I have no idea.”

“So it doesn’t say you can win with a wild?”

“There’s no way to get mad at a game of luck, but nooo,” Hunk continued, watching the argument unfold in front of him in a deadpan. “No, they want to play a ‘ real game’.”

“Yeah. And it doesn’t say you can’t, does it?”

“Um.”

“Ha! I was right, Pidge! So, I win.”

“Like hell you do! If Lance had just listened and hadn’t skipped me-”

“You started a stack and made me draw eight cards! Eight! You deserved it.”

“Yahtzee is a real game. You all just have terrible taste.” Shiro looked over at Hunk, trying to decide if now would be a bad time to laugh.

“Fuck you, Lance,” Pidge grumbled.

“So what I’m hearing,” Keith smirked, “is that I won.”

“No! You’re not the winner!” Lance shot back. Pidge flipped Keith off, and Shiro didn’t have time to correct her before Keith was launching a pillow her way.

“Oh yeah? Why?” Keith chuckled, dodging as Pidge threw a pillow back in retaliation.

“Give me a moment and I’ll have a reason!”

Keith was declared the winner, though Pidge and Lance demanded an asterisk be added because it wasn’t a “real win.”

Hunk went through the Castle and hid all of their card games away. Shiro may or may not have helped.

***

Helping

“It’s not going to work.” Pidge noted from where Lance was precariously balancing on a ladder, trying his damndest to reach Hunk’s stash of sweets and blankets. Said Yellow Paladin was in the medbay with a cold and Lance and Pidge were determined to nurse him back to health with the best (and calmest-- Coran’s orders) sleepover he’d ever had. (They’d invited Keith and Shiro too, but the two had politely declined. Wet blankets).

But to do that, they needed his stash.

“It’s going to work! I just need to reach a little further-”

The ladder rocked as Lance reached further and Pidge cringed. “Coran has taller ladders, Lance.”

“And? I’m tall! I got this, Gremlin!”

Pidge quirked a brow his way. “You sure about that, Tailor?”

“Yes, now shut u- WAH-OOF!”

He fell with the ladder to the floor. Luckily they’d already compiled some of the best pillows and blankets for a fort and had stacked them near the ladder, so Lance hit the pile and sank into it with a muffled whoomf.

“Told you it wouldn’t work.”

A tan hand popped out and pointed Pidge’s way. “And that’s enough out of you!”

***

Family Road Trips

Hunk looked over at Lance for the briefest second before looking back at the road. “Dude, are you sure we’re going the right way?”

Lance’s head popped up from the pile of paper and highways and papercuts that he’d insisted on using to take the Paladins back to his home. Apparently his mother had promised all of Voltron a huge feast as thanks for “keeping her baby boy alive” (though Pidge had to find that last part ouf from Hunk, as Lance had refused to share the reasons for their visiting). Allura and Coran had opted to hang back and make the crew at the Garrison a very special dinner of Paladin Surprise.

Pidge sighed grumpily from the backseat, sprawled out in the back of the van since Shiro and Keith had chosen the two mid-van seats. They’d been driving for hours with no end in sight. She’d offered her GPS services, but Lance had outright refused, saying that they had to “do it right.” 

Yeah. No one had used a map since the 21st century but sure. “The right way.”

Instead, Lance would shift into his best automated impression and give directions like those really early GPS models would with the “Siri” person. “Turn right in one hundred feet” and all that. It was funny for the first hour. 

“Pidge, you doing okay back there?” Shiro asked, having heard the sigh. 

“I’m good. Questioning our naviational services, though.” She said the last part louder, pointedly making sure Lance heard her.

“Pipe down, gremlin! We’ll be there soon!”

“Maybe we should play a driving game,” Shiro theorized quietly, playing at innocent even though all of Voltron knew how much he loved random bonding games.

“Oh no,” Keith balked, beating them all to the punch. “Absolutely not, Shiro.”

“But-”

“No!” Pidge yelped. 

“Let’s just enjoy the scenery, guys,” Hunk suggested cheerfully, and the terrified look he sent towards a quietly smirking Shiro was enough to have Pidge’s mood fixed.

At least, it was fixed for a moment.

“Hey, Lance?”

“Yeah, Hunk?” Lance’s reply was accompanied by more rustling as he adjusted to look at the map better, then a muffled curse as he no doubt cut his hand again on the paper.

“Are you sure we’re going the right way? It’s, uh, East from here, right?” The question was quiet, meant to be a private thing. But Pidge heard it no problem and was immediately on edge, terrified of the answer.

If they had been driving the wrong direction for over two hours, she was going to kill Lance.

Slowly.

Mercilessly.

Judging by the way Keith shifted in his seat slightly, also on edge, he would probably help her.

“Yeah, man. It’s East.”

“Okay, but I haven’t seen any numbers even close to our exit. Aren’t they supposed to, you know, go in order?”

Lance got quiet.

“I’ll be honest, I don’t quite know. But this looks right?”

“Hey, guys,” Shiro joined, apparently having also been eavesdropping. From the tone of his voice, Pidge knew he knew something that he wasn’t sharing. “Don’t most maps have a compass on them? Why not check that?”

“Oh good idea!” Lance hopped to it with more emphatic rustling. Shiro looked troubled as he did so. And then looked downright guilty as Lance suddenly got very quiet.

“Lance?” Hunk asked, still dutifully watching the road as he drove.

“Um.”

“Lance?” Pidge repeated, leaning forward so she could hang on the back of Shiro’s seat. “Lance what’s up?”

Lance cleared his throat. “In five hundred feet, make legal u-turn.”

“LANCE!”

***

Important Questions

Lance looked over from where he was hanging off the couch to catch Pidge’s eye. She was hanging out on the floor nearby, working on some coding for the Coalition.

“Pidge?”

He got a grunt in return, which he appreciated because he really wanted her opinion on this.

“Would you rather fight a kindergartener-”

“Absolutely.”

“I didn’t finish!”

“And you have my answer!”

“OR EXPLODE ZARKON, PIDGE?”

“WHY WAS THAT YOUR OTHER OPTION?”

“BECAUSE!”

Pidge turned with a scoff so she could look at him in the eye as Lance adjusted himself to be sitting up straight.

“What kind of question is that?”

“It’s my question! Now answer for real!”

“THE KINDERGARTENER!”

“PIDGE WHAT THE QUIZNAK.”

***

More Questions

Keith had a very distinct footstep volume. That is, he was basically soundless. The only reason Pidge heard him passing her workshop where she and Hunk were fiddling around was because he was humming quietly to himself, face drawn and almost comically confused.

“Uh, Keith?” Hunk called, catching the Red Paladin’s attention. “You good, man?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.” And then he hesitated. Turned to leave, turned back. “Actually, I have a question for you two?”

Pidge perked up from where she’d been focusing on her tablet and pretending to not be listening. “Oh? What’s up?”

“What do you do with a drunken sailor?”

“I- what the fuck, Keith?”

“Like- like the song? The shanty?” Hunk asked, recovering quicker than Pidge. Keith looked reasonably flustered at having had to ask, and frankly Pidge was equally flustered that she’d just heard Keith deadpan a sea shanty.

Just wait until Lance heard about missing that.

“Yeah. Shiro was, um, he was singing it earlier and didn’t finish it.”

“How far’d he get?” Hunk questioned, beginning to see where this was going.

“Something about ‘way hey and up she rises.’ But then he just went back to the beginning and never answered the question.”

“Well, knowing Shiro, he probably forgot the rest of the verses,” Pidge snorted.

“Yeah, that’s what I figured. Do either of you know it?”

“Um.” Hunk looked at Pidge helplessly. “Honestly, I forgot that thing even had verses.”

“I don’t sing,” Pidge mused. “I doubt Coran knows, nor would Allura?”

“Maybe Lance would?” Hunk suggested.

“Hunk, Lance is the drunken sailor.”

“I’m confused,” Keith intervened, still looking very uncomfortable.

“I think it had something about tossing him in the ocean?” Hunk rubbed his chin, very Wiggles-esque.

“SHAVE HIS BELLY WITH A RUSTY RAZOR, GUYS.”

All three occupants in the room looked at each other before Pidge cupped her hands and yelled back “THANKS, LANCE!”

“YOU ALL DISAPPOINT ME,” Lance hollered, voice fading as he walked away from the doorway. “I’M GOING TO GO FIND SHIRO AND LEARN HIM.”

“YOU GO, LANCE!” Hunk cheered.

“‘A rusty razor’,” Keith clarified, looking at Hunk until the Yellow Paladin nodded in agreement.

“Yup!”

“Okay, but why?”

***

Stop screaming

Hunk awoke to a very and concerningly so alert Pidge standing over him.

“Hunk! Hunk, so, which is better: Coding-- stop screaming-- or hacking?”

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY ROOM AT FOUR IN THE MORNING?”

***

Brotherly Tingz

“Shiro, do you know what I want?” Keith asked, feigning innocence.

“No.”

“Please?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Shiro, come on. It would make me the happiest Paladin in the whole universe.

Shiro crossed his arms with a patented Dad Sigh™. “No, Keith. No.”

“JUST ONE MORE.”

“WE ARE NOT WATCHING IT AGAIN KEITH.”

“BUT I CAN’T WATCH IT WHEN LANCE IS HERE; HE’LL MAKE FUN OF ME!”

Lance was on a “field trip” with Hunk, Pidge, and the Alteans.

“I’M GOING TO BURN YOUR COPY OF FROZEN , KEITH.”

***

Loyalty

Lance threw his helmet down, stalking forward ahead of team Voltron as they headed towards their respective showers. “That’s it! I’ve had it! I can’t work with you people anymore!”

“Fuck you too, Lance!” Pidge fired back. 

“Wait, what’d we do?” Hunk asked, having a bit of a hard time following where his best friend was going with this.

“I can’t keep working with the Mullet! I refuse! This working relationship has become too toxic and untrustworthy for me to operate and-”

“Lance, it was one game of uno-”

“IT WAS A BETRAYAL!”

***

Bless His Not-Kitchen-Proof Heart

“Hey Hunk?” Shiro asked uneasily. “The uh, the noodles changed.”

“What?”

“They changed? Here: look!”

“Shiro,” Hunk said after a long, awkward, stressful moment. “How the hell did you burn spaghetti noodles?”

“I don’t know?”

“THEY WERE IN WATER. HOW? HOW, SHIRO?”

***

As Advertised

Shiro wandered into the common room shortly before breakfast, hoping to convince one of the others to join him on the training deck, or, if he found most of them, invite them to join him on a walk around the planet they’d taken refuge on. They would need to do so eventually, but he and Allura were in agreement that it would be good for the younger paladins to stretch their legs without the context of a battle or training.

The door opened.

Shiro did not walk through.

Rather, he stood in the doorway for a second, contemplating how on earth these kids seemed to sense when he had plans for them and completely obliterate them, seemingly without trying.

In the room were the four teens he’d been looking for. They were attempting to wind a thick band of black tape around each other, the bags beneath their eyes telling Shiro that they had been there all night.

So as soon as he got this sorted out, they were going to go to bed. They weren’t going to have a say in the matter.

“Do I want to know,” he began, stepping into the room, “why you four are attempting to wrap yourselves in-- what is that, flex tape?”

Pidge paused from where she was carefully handing the roll to Keith to continue their progress. Lance looked at Shiro, eyes mildly hysterical.

“There’s a lot of damage, Shiro, okay?!”

***

Who?

Hunk, Pidge, and Lance had made the executive decision that morning that they were going to wander the latest Spacemall together, and that they were going to have a wonderful time. Shiro only allowed it because he trusted Hunk to keep Pidge and Lance in line. The latter two were able to effectively drown out Hunk’s protests that no I can’t, Shiro! Don’t trust me with this, man- and the three were quite excited.

Well, Hunk looked understandably apprehensive, but one Pidge and Lance reassured him that they wouldn’t get him in trouble with Shiro, the Yellow Paladin had relaxed and started to enjoy himself quite a bit.

“Pidge! Hunk! Watch this!” Lance grinned, strolling over to a relatively empty shop with what looked like minor kitchen utensils. Ah, so something Hunk would enjoy. Good.

“Hey, travelers!” the poor soul running the shop called out, having no idea what Lance had planned. Hunk greeted them in return, albeit nervously. “What can I interest you in?”

“I’d like to buy an owl!” Lance answered confidently. Pidge’s eyes widened from where she was standing next to Hunk, and Lance chuckled to himself at Hunk’s barely-covered groan.

“Well, sorry traveler, we don’t sell those. I’ve only heard of them- they’re those weird Terran birds, right?” the shop owner responding, actually sounding genuinely sad they didn’t sell owls.

“Yup!” Lance agreed. “And they told me you sell them here!”

The shop owner looked confused. “Who?”

“I just fucking heard one!” Pidge gasped behind Lance. Hunk dropped his head into his hands.

The store owner just looked lost. Hunk quietly passed him money for a utensil he’d been eyeing and dragged a cackling Pidge and Lance out of the store.

***

Manners

“What the hell are you doing?” Keith asked, appearing behind Lance after watching the Blue Paladin knock on the fridge door three times. Hunk was in the kitchen with them, and looking confusingly amused.

Lance yelped, jumping a good foot before rounding on Keith to glare at him. “Don’t do that, man! I’m going to put a bell on your mullet, Mullet. Mark my words!”

“Why were you knocking on the fridge?” Keith asked again instead of answering. Hunk stuffed a hand in his mouth.

“Don’t do it, Lance,” he warned, words muffled from the fist he was talking around as his shoulders shook in what Keith could only assume was laughter?

“Well, Keith,” Lance began with a grin. “It’s only polite. What if I didn’t knock and opened the door and saw the salad dressing?”

There was a moment of silence as Keith processed.

Then: “You have three seconds to run before I stab you.”

“THAT’S NOT VERY POLITE!”

Chapter Text

I mean, technically--

“Paladins of Voltron!” the planet leader snarled. “Surrender your Lions now to the might of the Galran empire, and we shall do you no more harm.”

Because of course one of the planets was a traitor to the coalition. Of course.

“We will do no such thing!” Allura answered, voice magnified by the Black Lion’s cabin where she and Shiro were headed Voltron’s formation. “Your citizens are innocent. Stand down, and we can keep them out of this.”

“You think you can face down our allies, Princess?” the leader drawledd, her oblong facial opening curving in amusement.

“Do you really want us to try?” Keith growled. Shiro warned him to stay out of it over the Paladin-Only comm channel.

“It’s a suicide mission. Your best chance of survival is to come out with your hands up. Unless of course you don’t value the lives of your allegedly precious paladins,” the leader simpered. Pidge could feel Allura’s simmering anger through the comm channel. “I will say it once more,” she said after a moment of tense silence, “come out with your hands up this instant.”

“Vol-!”

The Blue Lion opened suddenly, her Paladin stepping out with his hands raised.

“I’M BI!”

Pidge blanched, moving the Green Lion forward as the provoked army began surging towards Voltron.

“LANCE I’M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU!”

***

Notes

The Castle’s heat was down. Not enough to mean that they’d move the meeting, no no. Lance and Pidge were told to just “wear layers.”

They already were wearing layers. 

So that solution was going stellar. 

But the meeting was important, so they knew they wouldn’t be able to find a way out of going.

They also had promised to be completely silent at the meeting. Apparently they had a habit of showing “poor decorum” and acting “too comfortable around our guests.”

Whatever.

Honestly, Lance didn’t mind it-- he hated having to speak at these things, especially since Allura didn’t trust him to not have to memorize a script.  

It was ridiculous. Shiro and Coran were working on getting her to relax about things, but until then Lance was fine playing along.

Passing notes, however, had yet to be noticed and therefore banned. So.

The door opened behind them as more Coalition guests entered the room, and a wave of cold entered with them. 

It’s colder than a witch’s left tit in here Pidge wrote. Lance pursed his lips, desperately keeping control of his outward composure.

His gaze slid Pidge’s way as she drank from a glass of water slowly, the silent challenge met.

Perky witches in the house he wrote back. Pidge choked and water shot out of her nose. 

Next meeting, Shiro banned note passing.

***

Nobody: Asked

“And now, Paladins,” the Galran commander continued to her silent audience, “I’m going to ask you some questions, and you’re going to answer them.”

“You won’t get anything from us,” Shiro vowed, ever on brand.

Tragically, all that seemed to do is spur her on. She launched into yet another lengthy dissertation on all her plans to break and destroy Voltron and win the universe for their lorde and savior Zarky-Zark and blah blah blah blah.

Lance looked around, all his friends around him diligently glaring at their captor. Honestly, this part of the routine had never been his forte. The head honcho talks for a while, Voltron listens, and then they escape from there. Rinse and repeat.

But this one was still rambling and Lance really wasn’t in the mood to sit there until she ran out of things to lord over them, especially since she didn’t sound like she’d be stopping anytime soon.

Before he had the chance to fully think it over, Lance’s hand was in the air. 

“-- not before you shal- Blue Paladin? Do you wish to beg?” The Galran, hilariously, seemed genuinely surprised at the interruption. Voltron turned to look at Lance in varying degrees of confusion and outright concern for what Lance had planned. Lance just turned his gaze from them back to the Galran.

“If I pretend to care will you let us go sooner?” 

***

John Lennon

“Oh my god, wait, Hunk, watch this!” Lance said quietly, his friend joining him as they watched the Voltron Lions calming residing over their camp for the night.

“Dude- what-?”

“KILL JOHN LENNON” a piano riff. The Blue Lion’s head whipped towards them. Then The Green Lion’s. Then Red. Then Yellow. “KILL JOHN LEN--”

Then Keith.

“KEITH WHAT THE F--!”

***

Give Thanks

“Keith! Keith, over here!” Shiro called, leading the way as all of Voltron sans their favorite swordsman rushed out of the Black Lion. Keith looked up from across a sea of Galran wreckage, relief written all over his face.

“What took you all so long?” he laughed, breathless and he raced toward his friends. 

It’d been barely a varga of captivity, but still far too long in Voltron’s opinion. 

Shiro wrapped his arms around Keith the moment he was within reach, burying his head in the fondly-teased mullet. “Oh thank god you’re safe.”

“You’re welcome!” Pidge chirped. 

***

Language

“What in the darn fiddly fuck,” Pidge stated, less a question than a quiet interjection as she surveyed the carnage that was Lance’s latest escapade to the Castle closets. “Lance there’s like, fifteen quiznaking blankets in here. What the fuck? Where the fuck did you find them?!”

“Pidge,” Shiro sighed, passing by the room, “there’s really no need for the language. Lance, put some of those back; you do not need that many blankets for your movie night.”

“Shiro, just because you speak in semicolons does not mean that my word choice is at all at fault here!” 

“Yeah!” Lance joined, ever helpful.

“We’re supposed to be professionals, you two,” Shiro returned. “Even if you don’t think profanity is a big deal, other cultures might not see it that way. We as Paladins need to exude class and control. Swearing is not going to accomplish that for us.”

“Coran and Allura swear in Altean all the time!” Lance protested.

Shiro raised an eyebrow, very reminiscent of Coran, actually, “They’re Altean royalty. They have nothing to prove to anyone as far as capabilities go. We do. I want you two to really make a conscious effort to find better ways of expressing yourselves.”

Those, reader, are what Pidge and Lance and those in the biz like to call “famous last words.”

Lance and Pidge took Shiro’s words to heart, telling Hunk and Keith additionally of their goal to “find better ways of expressing” their emotions. 

Several alternate expression routes emerged from this fateful conversation.

1. Option one: Altean swears

“LANCE YOU GET YOUR QUIZNAKING QUIZ BACK HERE OR I SWEAR TO ALFOR--”

“Number five, are you quite alright?”

“Hijo de puta-- Pidge I’m on my way madre de Dios--”

“Guys, swearing in other languages does not count as a solution!”

Unsurprising, but educational nonetheless.

1. Sign Language

This was emphatically attempted, but failed when Lance had to ask Keith over the comms how to say fuck in ASL.

It was then banned when Pidge paused mid battle to open a video chat with Lance and nearly got blasted out of the sky while signing to the Blue Paladin.

1. Abject embarrassment

Voltron was invited to train at one of their prospective coalition member’s capitol. Really, it was just a formality as the world leader and Allura were already very close allies and had fought against the former corrupt government to get the planet back from the Galra. Voltron had assisted in the revolution and already had a relationship with the planet’s newly elected leader. She knew them all by name and had a permanent welcome at the Castle.

So, Lance, Keith, Hunk, and Pidge all decided now was a good time to show their latest solution to Shiro’s request.

Since this training session was meant to show how in control and capable Voltron was. 

For the cause.

“Oh, crinkle wrinkles!” Lance yelped, having to dodge one of Pidge’s grapple throws. “Pidge you silly tart!” he scolded. “You almost hit me!”

“Guys,” Shiro warned.

“Lance, why don’t you just worry about your blubber feather self, m’kay?” Pidge snapped back.

“Oh for the love of hat basket brisket!” Hunk explained, dramatically moving to where his friends were bickering. “Can’t you keep your wind minded mouths shut? Watch your mouths!”

“Guys, I’m serious.”

“Could you all cool it over there?” Keith joined, dueling with a high guard who’d volunteered with his squadron to spar with Voltron. “You’re really ruffling my feathers!”

“Aw, shucks,” Lance pouted. “No need to be rude, Keith.”

“You’re embarrassing us, guys,” Shiro hissed before pasteing his smile back on his face and returning to combat. 

“There’s just no pleasing you, Shiro!” Lance called after him, fighting a laugh.

“We’ll discuss this later!”

“Aw rotten shoot nuggets!” Pidge shouted, biting her lip to keep from laughing. The guards joining them had begun to catch on and were fighting laughter themselves.

“I TAKE IT BACK,” Shiro answered, 110% Done.

“FUCK YES!” 

“PIDGE!”

“Sorry.”

***

Problems

Keith skidded around the corner to his left, grabbing a very surprised Pidge on his way and dragging her along behind him.

“Keith-!?”

“We have a problem!” he called back, not willing to slow down even in the slightest.

“What, the bomb?”

Keith stumbled to a stop, barely reacting as Pidge crashed into him. “The- yes the bomb, Pidge!”

“I know! We’re good!”

“Pidge we are not good if the base is going to blow up!”

“You call it a problem. I call it our solution.”

The hall behind distantly lit up with explosions, each one closer and closer. Keith just looked at Pidge.

A moment of silence passed, both Paladins watching the approaching chaos.

“Okay, so yeah I could have better timed this. But it’s still a solution.”

Keith didn’t answer beyond a prompting blink.

“Yeah it’s a bit of a problem we should run.”

***

Milk

The Voltron Group Chat from Lance’s Phone:

Mullet: Finna chug this quart of milk

Gremlin: Where did you even find that?! 

Hero: Keith no

Hunkalicious: Dude aren’t you lactose intolerant

Mullet: You say that like it’s going to change the quart of milk

I’m holding in my hands 

Lancey Lance: Wtf are you doing with MILK

Mullet: You’re just jealous

Gremlin: Keith no

Mullet: Keith YES

***

Mama Mia

“Has anyone seen Lance?” Shiro asked, joining Keith, Allura, Hunk, Pidge, and Coran on the bridge.

“I know he’s around here somewhere,” Hunk mused. “Hang on. Allura, could we use the Castle Comms?”

The princess nodded, moving to grab the intercom device and passed it to Shiro, who accepted it. 

“Lance, could we see you on the bridge?”

They waited a few moments. After five dobashes passed, Hunk quietly asked for the intercom.

“Woaah~ Mama Mia. Here I go again.” He paused then, watching the door expectantly.

“That was a good try, Number Two,” Coran praised. “I’ll go find the lad--!”

The door to the bridge burst open, and a bedraggled Blue Paladin tumbled in. 

“ MY MY. HOW CAN I RESIST YOU!”

***

Focus on the Positives Here

“Keith, what’s your status?” Allura asked, pacing the length of the Castle Bridge. 

A loud thud sounded through comms. Pidge, Hunk, and Shiro jumped, the latter immediately demanding that the two missioning Paladins answer.

“Not to worry, guys!” Lance drawled. “Keith made a friend!”

“Yeah!” Keith added, not seeming to catch the sarcasm in Lance’s voice. 

“Are you too alright?” Shiro pressed.

“Mm. Keith, are we alright?” Lance deadpanned. Hunk and Pidge shared a confused glance.

“We think we made a wrong turn and this group of aliens invited us to join them, so we went--”

“We can’t leave,” Lance interrupted. “They fucking tied me up. And now they’re comparing their swords with Keith’s and we can’t leave.”

“Listen, they’re really friendly-- I think we’ve made some real headway here--”

“Keith, buddy, it’s a cult. You found a cult. You’re being initiated into a cult. Would you get over here and untie me?”

“Not until you acknowledge that I did a good job finding allies on this planet.”

“IT’S A CULT-- Shiro, tell him to untie me.”

“Keith, I’m proud that you found allies,” Pidge joined, grinning quietly. 

“DO NOT ENCOURAGE THE MULLET, PIDGE. WE ARE IN A CULT.”

“It’s still a good thing. You guys found some friendlies on the planet, and that was your objective,” Shiro mused.

“THE FRIENDLIES ARE CULTISTS. SWORD. CULTISTS.” 

***

I Walnut You

“Who tried to teach Keith how to make a heart with his hands?” Lance asked, loudly catching the attention of all in the post-operation meeting. Allura quirked her head, curious with where this was going.

“Oh! That was me,” Hunk confessed cheerfully. “He saw you and I do it and was confused.”

“I wasn’t aware this was a custom. Would you mind showing me?” Allura joined. As one, Keith, Hunk, Lance, and Pidge all curved their fingers and thumbs to their best interpretation of a heart shape.

Allura looked puzzle though, so Shiro looked up from his work and leaned close to her, surveying the offered gestures.

“I don’t know,” he mused with a soft smile. “You’ve all got more of a walnut thing happening than a heart.”

A beat of silence passed, quiet processing from the younger Paladins.

Then: 

“I walnut, Hunk!”

“I walnut you, Lance!”

“I walnut this ,” Pidge smirked, noting the burgeoning dismay and confusion from those surveying. 

***

_______!

“I’m too hot!” Hunk called over his shoulder.

“I’m on my way to you now,” Shiro answered immediately, voice steady and reassuring.

“What’s your status, Hunk?” Allura asked, worry coloring her words.

“I’ve got visual on Hunk. He seems okay for now. I’ll be there when I can,” Keith declared, sounding mildly puzzled.

“Wait--”

“Hunk where are you?” Pidge called, hurried and distracted.

“HOT DAMN.”

“Thanks, Lance!”

***

Typical

The explosion was deafening, and Keith and Lance threw themselves to the floor right as Shiro’s voice screamed in their ears, warning of the bomb just a moment too late. Lance tumbled across the room, slamming into the wall. Keith narrowly avoided the same fate, having happened to be ducked behind a box. 

Ears ringing, Keith leapt to his feet, unharmed all things considered.

Lance wasn’t moving.

Lance.

Lance.

“Lance!”

To Keith’s dizzying relief, the Blue Paladin stumbled up leaning against the wall. He offered Keith a half smile, blood trickling down his face from an unlucky cut to his temple.

Forgetting to be professional, Keith took five steps forward and wrapped the startled teen in a hug. “Don’t you dare do that again! We almost lost you in the last explosion! You can’t do that again!”

Lance had the gall to look puzzled. “What? Keith--”

“No! You don’t get to do that, Lance! You’re-- You’re my friend, you absolute ass. I-- dammit I care about you! You don’t get to almost die on me! What if you had, huh?!”

Lance’s expression, against all odds, looked even more confused. “Keith, no wai-”

“Don’t interrupt me! You’re not allowed to leave me, okay? I need you to tell me that you won’t!”

“WHAT?”

Adrenaline took all of Keith’s self control with Lance’s shout. “ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING?!”

“KEITH I CAN’T HEAR YOU MY EARS ARE FUCKING BLEEDING.”

“WHAT?!”

“WHAT?!”