Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The very first time Lance had gone into heat, it had taken everyone by surprise.

He had been shopping with his Papa at one of the markets in his home town when it had happened. He remembers that he had been twelve at the time, an early-bloomer by all accounts as most children didn’t present until some time after their fourteenth year. It had started with an itch under his skin; he had likened it to the chickenpox and by the time he even had a suspicion of what might have been happening, it was too late.

Full-heat hit just as they were perusing the honey stall for Lance’s favourite lollipops, the ones his Papa always bought him. It brought him to his knees so suddenly he almost brought his Papa with him.

“Lance?” He turned, brow furrowed. “Mijo?” Lance had looked up at him, tears shining bright in his eyes.

“Papa? I--” A growl cut between them and, instinctively, Lance had bared his neck, a whimper trembling in his throat. He looked out of the corner of his eye to see the stall owner half-lunged across the stand, one hand clutched across his mouth and the other stretched out as if to grab him.

Before he could blink, Lance was behind his Papa as he snarled back, teeth snapping, “You touch him and you’re dead. You hear me? Dead.” Lance whimpered again as his stomach cramped and he felt… something slip in the seat of his trousers. His Papa’s snarl got louder as hands reach towards them. “Back. Off.”

His Papa had grabbed a collapsible baton out of the shopping bags – something that Lance had never realised he even owned – and had literally beaten any Alpha brave enough to come within its range into submission.

It wasn’t until another gentle, lilacy-lavender scent similar to his Papa’s own arrived that Lance felt his Papa relax even a little. Then soft, caring hands had surrounded them and gently tugged them into the car-park. Lance’s Papa had scrambled for his car keys and, once he and the kindly group of what Lance would later discover were Omega nuns had got Lance situated in the rear seat, sped home.

Lance never touched honey lollipops after that.

His Papa was the strongest person he knew, and, in the right situation, the most dangerous. As a result, Lance had never seen any reason to hide the fact that he was an Omega.

He hides many things about himself because of a sense of shame, but never that.

When the Garrison suppressors begin to wear off – around what he supposes would have to be around month nine in space – Lance feels a freedom he’s not had since the damn Garrison had insisted on putting him on them. He still remembers the shocking sting of the injection and the doctor’s orders of: ‘Make sure you’re back here in twelve months for the booster.’

His sense of smell, the best in his family besides his Papa’s, finally comes back full force, and with it the unbearable urge to start scenting everything. His team-mates catch on fairly quick.

Hunk, as Lance’s best friend and a Beta, gets a front row seat the first day that Lance realises he can smell everything and everyone again. Lance presses his face to Hunk’s over and over again, gentle and caring and marking him as a part of his pack.

“Is… is this happening right now…? Are you… are you in heat?” Hunk asks nervously as Lance guides him to the sofa in the open-spaced lounge, and proceeds to press their cheeks together in an attempt to mark Hunk as someone important.

“Not in heat.” Lance mutters, frowning as he rubs the scent glands on his wrists across Hunk’s neck before pulling back. “Sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry, it was… nice, like being around my mom, just… what’s going on?” He asks, eyes wide as Lance curls into his side on the couch with his head in Hunk’s lap.

“Instincts. Sense of smell’s back.” Realisation dawns on Hunk’s face and he drops a hand to Lance’s shoulder, rubbing gently. “Just realised that for being my best friend, you don’t smell enough like it, I guess. I should have asked. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Hunk murmurs again, smiling at him softly. He brings his hand up to run it through Lance’s hair. “It was only a matter of time.” He grins more broadly as Lance practically purrs under his hand. “I suppose Shiro’s not had suppressants for months – though this does mean Keith’s are probably going to be wearing off soon, if they haven’t already, and Pidge’s.”

Lance shrugs. He knew Shiro’s suppressants had worn off before he’d made it back to Earth and they all knew that he hadn’t been on Earth long enough for either the Garrison to administer any or for Shiro to get any himself. However, he also knew that Keith’s had worn off about a month ago. He knew this because he had witnessed… something.

It had been late (early? Space was strange when it came to timings) and Lance had fancied a midnight (4am?) snack. He’d been staying up with Pidge while she attempted to hack some Galra tech and had decided he was hungry before wandering down to the ship’s kitchen to source some food goo. He’d had to walk past training room three (Keith’s territory: AVOID) when he’d seen it.

He realises, as he’s curled up next to Hunk, that perhaps his suppressants were on their last-legs even then. He remembers the hair standing up on the back of his neck and the most bizarre desire to settle onto his knees and bare his scent-glands.  Following his instincts, he’d glanced into the training room and stopped dead.

In the middle of the floor, Shiro and Keith were locked into a fighting embrace – that in itself wasn’t unusual, but the fact that both of them were naked and that Keith had the advantage, with one hand between Shiro’s thickly muscled thighs and the other on the back of his neck… well… that was unusual. Lance’s breath had caught in his throat, a blush spreading across his face and down his chest, as he regarded the animalistic sneer on Keith’s face, the sweat across his brow and the movement of his hips. His eyes had drifted to Shiro and he swallowed around a suddenly dry throat at the sheer rapture there – they had done this before.

Suddenly the lingering looks and gentle touches had made sense, the desperation with which Keith had searched for Shiro and his utter certainty that the older man wasn’t dead… they were mates. Not only team-mates, but life-mates as well.

Lance had glanced at both of their necks. Bond-mates.

The pink scars (old, but not that old, since we got here then?) were usually covered by their clothing but there, on the training room floor, they had unknowingly bared all to Lance. Two Alphas, Lance had thought, hand drifting to the throbbing between his legs as he shuddered, mated Alphas.

He knows that kind of relationship isn’t rare, but at the same time it’s not exactly common place. Too much testosterone being thrown about. He supposes that’s why the two of them had been making do with subtle touches and side-glances, they didn’t know how the rest of the team would react. It wouldn’t be long until their scents gave them away if Keith’s suppressants had finally worn off and triggered a rut.

As he’d heard a particularly loud moan punched from Shiro’s throat he’d fled back to his room, snack forgotten and had a particularly amazing wank thinking about both Alphas.

Shivering at the memory, Lance is grounded once more by the gentle sensation of Hunk’s fingers in his hair.

“I’ll need to keep an eye on Pidge.” Lance murmurs, eyelids drooping happily.

“Why?”

Lance smiles as he hears the frown in his friend’s voice, “Well… she’s only, what, fifteen, sixteen, maybe? I’d bet good GAC on her never having presented. If she’s a Beta, great, if not…” Lance shrugs, “She shouldn’t be alone.”

 “Lance…”

Oh, he recognises that tone, “Nothing untoward! If she’s an Omega and she goes into heat, she’ll want another Omega there – trust me. If she’s an Alpha, I’ll know to give her a wide berth for a few days. I think her brother is a Beta so the likelihood is that she will be too, but,” Lance wrinkles his nose, “it might be worth someone broaching the subject of ‘presenting’ with her. Just so there are no nasty surprises.”

Hunk shrugs, “Maybe…”

Lance stretches in his lap, grinning widely as Hunk scuffs his hands through the Omega’s hair a little more vigorously. “Not maybe, Hunk, definitely.” He sits up and stretches his legs out, rolling his eyes at Hunk’s uncomfortable look, “I’ll do it, then, wuss!”

Hunk has the decency to look a little abashed.

“I’m gonna go and scent some more of my stuff… and the places I like in the castle.” Lance mutters, edging towards the door.

“Don’t go near--”

“Training room three, I know.” Lance waves at Hunk on his way out. I wouldn’t dare, knowing what I know and what you don’t, he thinks, Lord knows what will happen when they twig I’m an Omega.

Chapter Text

He makes his way to the observation deck.

Despite having spent eight (nine?) months in Space, watching the stars, gazing out at the nebulae and understanding the sheer vastness of it all was by far his favourite thing to do in his down time. For Lance, there’s something about the limitlessness of Space that reminds him of the sea at home. It reminds him of his Ma.

He remembers one particularly bad day, not long after presenting, when he discovered the real cruelty of children. He can’t quite remember what had happened that day in clear detail, but he remembers running down to the beach after school and sitting there until the sand had cooled in the wake of sunset. Then his Ma. His idol.

If he closes his eyes he can almost recall his Ma’s scent, cayenne and sea salt.

“Hey, buddy.” She’d said, resting a gentle, always unbearably gentle, hand upon Lance’s shoulder. He’d looked up, recognised the brief flash of rage that flitted across his Ma’s features at the bruise covering half her son’s face. “Bad day?” At Lance’s nod and pathetic sniffle, she’d continued, “Kids are cruel, bud.”

“Th-they said that I’m too ugly to be an Omega. Th-they said that no-one would ever want to marry me.” Lance had bawled.

His Ma’s face had crumpled a little, as she’d rubbed circles into Lance’s back.

“Well… Do you think your Papa’s pretty?”

“Papa’s beautiful!” Lance hissed, anger bubbling at the thought of anyone thinking less.

His Ma had chuckled. “When he was your age, his classmates said much the same thing about him – that he was ugly. He looked like you, you know. Tall.”  His Ma had smiled and looked up at the clear sky, the endless night littered with stars. Lance recalls following her gaze and the sound of lovers laughing somewhere down the beach. “I fell in love with him the moment I saw him and I didn’t even know he was an Omega, then.”

Lance had sniffled again and he whined in his throat. His Ma had gathered him close, rubbing some warmth into his cold arms. With her free hand, his Ma grabbed a handful of sand and Lance had stared at it, mesmerised as his Ma said, “We’re all grains of sand in this universe, buddy, but only a few grains of sand are lucky enough to become pearls.”

Brought back into the present, Lance finds that he’s holding his arms around himself as he stares blindly into Space. Sighing, he tries to ignore the pang of homesickness and concentrates on the beauty of the nebula the ship is currently passing, the swirls of blues and spattering of pinks.

He inhales deeply and scowls as he realises that the observation deck has been used for one of Keith and Shiro’s… dates. Harrumphing, he begins the process of scent-marking his territory.

He starts by pressing his jaw to the door’s entryway and slowly makes his way around the, not inconsiderable, room; rubbing his wrists against the seating and pressing his cheeks carefully to the glass. He takes residence at the centre of the room and inhales again, feeling his shoulders relax as the he confirms that the deck is imbued in his scent. For good measure, he deftly slips off his undershirt, zipping his jacket up over his temporary nakedness, and slides it into one of the seat cushions.

“Lance?”

He startles, whirling around to regard Pidge in the doorway, looking uncertain.

“Hey, Pidge. Uhm… How long have you been there?”

“Long enough to see you putting your shirt in the seating.”

Lance laughs and rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “I can see how that might look weird.” He realises now that maybe Pidge doesn’t know what he is. She’s only ever known him on suppressants.

“Not really.” She shrugs when he looks at her again. “Matt’s an Omega. He used to practically hump the walls when he was close to his heat --”

“Pidge!” He shrieks, cheeks pinking. “That’s not what’s going on, and I haven’t… I haven’t humped anything. And wait… Matt’s an Omega?”

Pidge shrugs again, “To-mate-oh, to-mart-oh. Yeah. Whenever he used to get stressed out it was the same – or when he was home for the summer from the Garrison and the suppressants wore off.” She makes her way into the observation deck proper and sits beside the large glass window. “I hope he’s ok out here.”

Lance smiled and sits beside her, “I’m sure he’s fine.” He murmurs, reaching out to squeeze her knee. He leans back again and crosses his arms as he looks at her.

“What?”

He glances out into Space again, sighing as he realises now is as good a time as any, “If my suppressants have worn off…”

“I know.” She huffs, crossing her arms and curling in on herself. “I know.”

He lets the conversation lapse into silence for a few beats before opening his mouth again to gently prod, “Do you… Before you came to Space with us, before the Garrison… had you presented?”

She frowns before shaking her head. Lance sighs, knowing how frightening that must be. “Ok. Uhm… Have you had any hints as to what you might present as?”

She shrugs again, bottom lip trembling before she viciously chews on it. “I can smell a lot more than I used to, and I know that can be the same for any secondary gender close to presenting, but…” She cuts herself off with a small whimper.

“But?” Lance probes gently, before being knocked off balance with an ‘oomf’ as she launches herself at him and the floodgates open.

“But I can’t stop scenting everything that feels like a safe space and I keep collecting people’s stuff and hiding it in my room or Green and I keep wanting to build a nest and---”

“Woah. Ok, ok.” Lance murmurs into her hair as he sits back up and gently rocks her back and forth like his Papa did for him, his hands running through her hair in soothing motions. She shudders into him and curls into his lap, tears soaking into his jacket. “It’s ok.”

“But it’s not, Lance!” She cries, shoulders shaking, “It’s so unfair! Why couldn’t I just be a Beta?”

Lance’s heart breaks for her a little bit as he gently shushes her and rubs her back. “Oh, Pidge, I know it might seem like the worst thing in, well, the universe right now, but trust me it’s not so bad.” She turns his face up to him and he supresses a flinch at the glare he receives through all the tears and snot. “It’s really not. Yeah, ok so we’re uncomfortable for a week once every three months or so followed by a three-day bleed, tops, but can you imagine what Betas go through? Bleeding for a week every damn month? No, thank you.” That earns him a reluctant smile. “I’m not gonna lie to you, there are bad days that come with it – and the nesting can be annoying beyond belief, but you’ll learn how to handle it.”

“I just… I’m scared.” She admits, sitting back out of his arms and he momentarily mourns the loss of her warmth. He shakes himself when he realises it’s his hormones screeching at him – protect.

Lance smiles softly at her, “That’s normal, and I’ll be here, ok? I’ll coach you through the first one, alright? Nothing to it.” She stares at him for a long moment, searching his face. “What?”

She smiles, “I’m just trying to understand how I never realised you were an Omega.” At his quizzical look she expands. “Just… you’re so Omega-y, Omega-ish?” She shakes her head, “You’re always helping everyone. You listen to Hunk whenever he needs to vent about missing his mom or the poor food options, you’re always the first to help Coran with whatever errand when everyone else avoids him, you help Allura whenever she’s feeling overwhelmed or missing Altea, and the amount of times you’ve kept me company, and put me to bed, whenever I’ve been onto something with the Galra tech. Not to mention the way you always go up against Shiro or Keith when the rest of us feel too awkward or scared.”

Lance huffs self-depreciatingly, “Not sure that one’s in the Guide to being a good Omega.”

“It is when you’re the pack Omega.” She argues, “Like my mom is, or Hunk’s or your Papa. Has he ever let your Ma get away with shit?”

“Pidge!” He squawks, but she waves him off and raises an eyebrow. He thinks back to all the times his Ma had done something stupid or said something his Papa hadn’t agreed with and chuckles as he remembers some particularly memorable arguments they’d had. Not once had his Papa backed down. “No.” The realisation dawns on his face that many of the more violent arguments he’s had with Shiro or Keith have boiled down to when the Alphas were potentially putting the Pack in danger. “Oh.” He says, cheeks pinking and an odd sort-of pride spreading through his chest.

“Exactly.” Pidge says, looking triumphant for a moment, before her own situation comes rushing back to the fore. “Uhm, Lance?”

“Yeah?”

“Does… does, you know, heat, hurt?”

He frowns. “I won’t do you the injustice of lying to you, it can do if the proper steps aren’t taken.” At her confused look he elaborates, “Make sure you have a nest and you should be fine, it can be, uhm, pleasant, or so I’m told, but it’s mostly a week of feeling feverish and uncomfortable. The cramping is usually the worst bit and that’s usually finished in the first couple of days of proper oestrus. I’ll help you with the first one.”

She looks a little uncomfortable and he smiles gently at her again.

“If you prefer I can hang around outside in case you feel you need me, or I can rope Allura in to help us – that might not be the worst idea if I haven’t had my withdrawal heat to be honest. First things first, though, I think we should show you the importance of a proper nest.”

He rises and holds out a hand to her. She takes it and they make their way to the sleeping quarters.

“Okay,” he begins as they reach Pidge’s room and the door opens on the chaos of her things, “tidying might be an idea,” he holds up a hand at the face she pulls, “but ultimately it’s entirely down to how you feel most comfortable. I’ve always preferred a spotless room, but I know my cousin is rather more comfortable in a room full of… stuff.”

Lance looks at Pidge, eyebrows raised, “How do you feel looking at your room right now?” He asks.

She takes a moment to glance about her room and consider the question, “Safe.” She decides.

Lance grins at her, “Good. I won’t come in – I hate people in my space in the run up to my heat – but can I make a couple of suggestions?” She nods, “I would get rid, or move anything out of the room that might catch you: wires, things like that. Then decide where you‘re putting the nest – from experience, I would suggest not the bed as I have a tendency to fall out of it, but all Omegas are different, as long as it’s somewhere you feel safe, that’s the most important thing.”

Pidge nods, already making lists of items to remove and replace.

“I’ll talk to Shiro and Allura to let them know what’s happening, I’ll also look into getting our quarters shut down for the duration of either one of our heats.” Lance frowns, “I might have to get Keith moved as his is the room next to mine.”

He doesn’t think that either Shiro or Keith can be thought of as threats – especially as he knows that they are mated to one another, but he decides he can’t be too careful. More so with Pidge’s first heat than his own withdrawal; he knows from his own experience what stress can do to a heat.

“I don’t know what you’re going to be like for the duration of your heat, but I know that I tend to be extremely tactile. I love scenting and touching my friends and family around my heat – I’m also a sucker for collecting peoples’ things, which you said you’re already doing?”

Pidge nods and reaches into the mess strewn about the floor to pull out one of Lance’s tees to make a point. Lance huffs a laugh. “It’s gross.” She says, “I hate feeling like a klepto every time I walk past someone’s room and they’ve left it unguarded.”

Lance chuckles, “Yeah, I can see how that can end up making you feel crappy, but it might be worth doing the rounds and just asking if there’s anything any of us can offer.” She turns wide, trepidatious eyes to him, “I mean, honesty really is the best policy, but if you’d rather not I’m more than happy to collect some things for you.”

Pidge seems to consider his words for a moment and Lance is happy to just stand there and wait for her lead on this.

He’s been through this so many times that it feel rather like old hat to him now. He remembers the first time he asked his older Alpha brother for his scarf and the gentle understanding he had been shown. Of course, he knows not every family is like his, that there are still families out there that have a belief that these things, these instincts should be repressed and he knows the damage it does to Omegas – saw it first hand at the Garrison. It was just another reason to be unapologetically himself.

“When… When Matt goes through, uhm, heat, he always used to ask about what he could take, but I knew there were always things he preferred. I, uhm. I’d like to ask what the team are happy to, er… donate? before I keep taking things.”

Lance nods at her. “Okay.” He holds his hands out again. “You can keep that tee,” he takes her hands and she takes the short trip with him to his room “but I have a couple more things here that I know I’ve grown out of that you’re more than welcome to.”

She smiles at him and leans into him a little before they go over to what amounts to a closet and sort through some of his things.

That’s how Hunk finds them around a varga later. Well, almost.

They’re on the floor surrounded by clothes and blankets and little knick-knacks that Lance seems incapable of not picking up from every damn planet they visit and Hunk takes a moment to just survey the scene in front of him before he interrupts.

It’s almost… cute. The two of them lean towards each other, and Hunk might be inclined to feel jealous if he didn’t see the distinctly brotherly affection clear across the blue paladin’s face.

He knocks on the door jamb – knowing that stepping into Lance’s space without the other boys permission this close to his heat could go very, very wrong for him – and their gazes swivel up to him.

“Food’s up, if you’re hungry.” He murmurs to them.

Chapter Text

Dinner begins as a quiet affair, everyone focussed on the not-food-goo that Hunk has prepared. It is, by far, one of the best meals the Beta has made since the food-goo betrayal.

And then Keith just has to open his stupid, beautiful mouth. Damn hormones! Lance thinks angrily.

Keith elbows Shiro and hisses, none too quietly, “Can you smell that?” Shiro nods and his eyes flick around the table. Lance sits straighter and lifts his chin. He meets Shiro’s gaze head on.

“Yeah.” The black paladin murmurs back, lifting his brows at Lance.

Lance rolls his eyes and stands. “I have an announcement, before mullet here manages to out me without realising it.”  Keith frowns and opens his mouth to say something, but Lance steam-rolls over him, “I’m an Omega.” The blue paladin takes a moment to enjoy Keith’s slack-jawed surprise. “So. Yeah. My suppressants have mostly worn off and I’ll probably be going into heat in about a month, maybe less.”

Keith splutters. “You’re an Omega? You?”

Lance frowns at him, pushing aside the hurt he feels at that, choosing instead to straighten his spine and to address Shiro and Allura. “You’ll be down a paladin.”

Shiro smiles at him, gently. “I’d wondered if one of you was going to turn out to be an Omega. Allura and I already have a strategy in place.”

The princess grins, “Indeed.” She pulls her tablet towards herself, presses a couple of buttons and a hologram map opens on the table. She enlarges a solar system. “When your heat hits, I’ll take the castle here. It’s on the very outer edge of the Empire and if Coran’s calculations are correct, it should be the safest place for us.”

Lance smiles, grateful at their forethought. A small, lightly shaking hand grasps his and he glances to his right to catch Pidge standing with him. He squeezes her hand.

“I’m probably presenting as an Omega as well.” She mutters, quickly flicking her eyes around the table. “I’m not certain, but… Matt’s an Omega and, statistically, I’m more likely to present as one. Plus… Lance and I spoke about it today. It sounds like my presentation symptoms are classically-Omega-ish.” She shrugs, glances at Lance and straightens her shoulders, chin lifting stubbornly as she stares at the others around the table.

Hunk grins at them, suddenly realising that, perhaps, it’s not such a huge surprise that Lance and Pidge are both Omegas. There’s no denying how close the two of them have become and there’s a science behind unmated and unpresented Omegas being drawn to together. Evolution, his brain supplies, safer in groups.

“Wait!” Keith starts, standing with his hands resting on the table. “Other than the fact that Lance is an Omega,” Lance glares at him, but keeps his silence, “this is going to mean we’re down two paladins, we’re going to be useless if the Galra attack!”

Pidge snatches her hand away from Lance and shrinks in on herself at that. Lance’s heart cries out for her. She’s always so terrified of letting the team down, ever since Keith had turned on her for wanting to find her family.

Lance crosses his arms and cocks his hip, “Uhm, first of all, rude, second; you Alphas might be ‘useless’ when you go into rut, but how the hell do you think Omegas would look after a pack if they were suddenly incapable of thinking with anything other than their cunt?”

Coran gasps and claps his hands about Allura’s ears.

“Lance!” Shiro cries, shock evident across his handsome face and Lance takes a smidgeon of pride at finally, finally being able to surprise Shiro. He barely registers the horror on everyone else’s face.

“No, Shiro.” Lance snarls, not realising that he’s moving Pidge behind himself, “Keith can be a dick about me being an Omega, but he doesn’t get to tell us that we’re useless, when we all know that Alphas are the ones who can’t function without something wet around their cock.”

He’s shaking too, he realises. Adrenaline making his muscles burn with the need to present. For an unmated Omega, going against one Alpha is hard, but two… well. Lance could feel his knees shaking. If he didn’t feel like he might pass out any second, he’d take the time to enjoy the look of distress plastered across Keith’s face.

Shiro reaches out towards him but flinches back as Lance snarls.

He can feel his chest burning from the way he’s drawing in air. Pidge is still behind him and she’s gripping his elbow tightly as she observes the rest of them.

Hunk is looking worried, but then he’s always worried. Coran and Allura look equal parts confused and concerned. Shiro’s expression is hovering somewhere between fear and exasperation and Keith… woah. Keith actually looks scared.

Pidge is still shaking like a leaf, her own instincts registering Lance’s ‘danger’ pheromones and forcing adrenaline into her veins. She catches Keith’s eye as he glances at her, and raises her chin as she glances meaningfully at his chair. Sit down, she thinks at him, back off, look small.

He seems to understand as he sits down sharply with his palms flat on the table, head dropping as he hunches slightly.

It seems to work as Lance’s snarl dies in his throat. He stares at Keith.

“I’m sorry.” The red paladin offers. “Sorry. I didn’t mean… I don’t think any less of either of you.”

Lance continues to frown at him and Pidge hesitantly steps to his side. He instinctively throws an arm in front of her, and he battles the desire to push her behind himself again. He can feel his features still trying to snarl.

He scrubs a hand across his face, blowing out a breath to calm himself. He wrenches his arm back from stretching across Pidge’s chest and pulls out her seat again. He allows her to sit before sitting himself.

“Apology accepted.” He says. His face warms as he recalls exactly what he said in the heat of the moment. He glances around the table, eyes resting on Shiro and Keith a little longer than the rest. “I’m sorry for… uhm… for you know. My language and… for saying… that.” He stands again, embarrassed. “I’m, uhm. I’m going to go and train for a bit before turning in.”

And then he all but runs to training room six.

It’s not until later that he realises he probably should have checked that Pidge was ok with being left with the team. Then he realises what stupid thing that is to think when she’s been living with them all for this long, blames his hormones and beats the crap out of another four gladiators.
Sighing he swipes the sweat off his brow and hits the showers before heading back to the observation deck to do some yoga.

Chapter Text

He’s always loved practicing yoga. He supposes it has something to do with feeling his already long limbs stretching to feel impossibly longer. The feeling of elegance as he catches sight of himself in the large window twisting into seemingly impossible positions with grace and ease.

He can feel calm spread through him as he moves into Taraksvasana and holds, relishing the stretch before shifting to Sirsa Padasana.

He rolls his eyes when he scents the pheromones in the air.

“Does me scenting this one room on the entire ship outside of my own quarters mean nothing?” He grumbles, flowing into Pincha Mayurasana. “I’m busy.”

He breathes carefully, refusing to show how unnerved he is. How bizarrely trapped he feels this close to his heat with the only exit from the room effectively blocked. Fucking hormones.

Keith remains quiet for a few moments and Lance moves into Bakasana with a slight grunt.

“How-uhm. How are you doing that?” Keith falters and Lance feels smug as he realises that his voice is almost two octaves higher than usual.

Lance moves into his final pose of Padangusthasana. “It’s yoga.” He says, settling to control his breathing.

Keith huffs, “I know it’s yoga, how are you doing it?”

Lance stretches out of the pose and grabs his towel, wiping away the slight sweat he’s worked up. Keith leans against the door and the Omega growls a little. Keith’s eyes go wider.

Lance runs the towel over his head, scrubbing a little viciously to try and think straight. “You don’t know the first thing about Omegas do you?” He hisses.

Keith looks as if he’s about to argue, but as he inhales, he thinks better of it and just lowers his head. “No.” He says.

“I thought not.” Lance rolls his eyes, shaking out his limbs and rolling his neck from side to side. He doesn’t miss the slightly hungry look Keith throws his way as he exposes his scent glands. In theory, he’s perfectly safe as he knows Keith is mated to Shiro but Lance suddenly realises how vulnerable he could be in this situation and he feels a mad spike of panic.

It must be strong as Keith wrinkles his nose and takes a blind step forward, calming pheromones slipping off him in waves. Lance almost laughs as he notices Keith’s face morph into confusion and worry.

“What –”

“I need you out of my space.” Lance mumbles, feeling an anxiety attack fluttering in his chest. “Please.”

Keith steps forward again, but seems to think better of it and pulls back, turning his back to Lance to leave even though it must go against all of his own instincts.

Lance takes a few deep breaths and presses his cheeks to the walls around the door, before following him out.

“Sorry.” He says.

Keith shakes his head, a hand pressed against his chest and other spread to the side. “I’m sorry.” Lance raises his eyebrows at him. “I didn’t think. I should have thought about how you’d feel with me in your space especially after, uhm, after everything at dinner.” He swallows before continuing, “You were right. I don’t know anything about Omegas… well. I don’t really know anything about how to interact with anyone. So. I’m just… I’m sorry.”

Lance can feel his mouth hanging open.

“What?” Keith asks, bringing his arms around to fold them in front of himself, his shoulders rolling forwards. Defensive.

“You do realise that is the most you’ve said to me since we ended up in space?”

“So?”

“Keith.” Lance says, suddenly excited, eyes going wide. “Do you know what’s happening right now?” The Alpha shakes his head, and Lance grins at him. “We’re bonding.”

There’s a moment of shocked silence, then Keith’s laughing so hard he snorts a couple of times, his face red with embarrassment. 

“Dios mio.” Lance sighs, his own smile widening. “Your laugh’s adorable.”

“Sorry?”

Lance blushes as he realises his mouth has run away with him again. He busies himself folding his towel and heading back towards their rooms. “I said ‘your laugh’s hilarious’.”

Keith narrows his eyes but doesn’t call Lance’s bluff. “We’ve bonded before this.” He argues instead.

“What? When? I don’t remember this.” Lance cries, giggling as Keith squawks before laughing again.

Chapter Text

The Space Mall is a nice surprise – especially after the latest showdown with Zarkon. They went in expecting a shady black market and are met with gleaming floors and well stocked stores.

When Lance and Pidge find what he can only assume is an Area 51 alien flogging his Earth-wares he’s semi-embarrassed that his first thought is ‘birth-control’. Then he scolds himself for feeling embarrassed after his Papa’s talks about ensuring his own safety and future.

So he scours the shelves and lets out a little ‘whoop’ of surprise when he finds what he’s looking for. It draws Pidge’s attention and she wanders over.

“Birth control?”

He blushes. “I know I’m probably not gonna need it,” he says, picking up one of the little packets and turning it over, looking at the dates. “but, on the off-chance I find someone I like enough to spend a heat with – or..” he almost doesn’t say it, but decides it’s better to make sure she knows the danger she could find herself in, “you know, if we get taken, uhm, hostage or something.”

He eyes widen and she looks back at the shelves. “You don’t think Matt…” she trails off.

“No.” He states. “Uh-uh. Nope.”

She smiles sadly at him, unconvinced.

“Look. Matt is a strong guy. Maybe not physically, like Shiro, but then, not a lot of people are. He’s strong like you, Pidge. Even if he’s still a prisoner – he’s smart.” He shoots a winning smile at her, picking up another of the packets – an implant. “There’s no way you’d stay in the Galras’ clutches long – why would he?”

She give him a long, searching look. Finding no lip-service in what he’s expressed she grins. “How much for these?” She calls over to the alien while holding a packet of each of the seven options.

“Six-hundred GAC.”

And then she spots the game system… The cow is surprise, though.

Chapter Text

Lance goes to Coran in the Med-Bay with the armful of birth control.

“Do you think you can replicate these?” He asks, pointedly ignoring the way Shiro and Keith are looking at him. He feels his cheeks warm.

“Sure thing, Number Three. What are they?” He takes them from Lance. Of course Coran would ask.

“Uhm, they’re, uhh--”

“Birth-control.” Shiro finishes and Keith’s eyes grow sharp. Why are they even here?

“… To control… births? Oh! Lance are you--”

“No!” Lance shrieks and he throws a hot glare at Keith when he starts laughing. “No. It’s to stop me from, uhm, getting” he waves nervous hand around above his head, “you know, pregnant.”

“Oh! So a Preventative.” Coran smiles, turning to assess one of each of the pills and the singular implant they had found. “Honestly, you humans have such a round-about way of saying things.”

Lance crosses his arms and pointedly ignores the way Shiro and Keith are hanging around. There’s a part of him that wants to snarl at the way they’re canoodling but the rational part of him knows that particular part of him has nothing to do with his teammates and everything to do with his impending heat. 

Coran breaks the tension spreading through his shoulders as he grins and says, “You’re in luck, Number Three. It looks like the sequencing in your Preventatives is not too dissimilar to those of Altean construct. I’ll have these replicated in a jiffy.”

“Thank you, Coran.” Lance says stiffly, scowling when Keith and Shiro regard him speculatively. “What?”

They exchange a look that has Lance’s skin crawling and Shiro opens his mouth, before he shakes his head and shuts it again.

“Who are you spending your heat with?” Keith blurts, his face turning an interesting shade of scarlet when Shiro swats at him. “Sorry – no – it’s not like – I don’t mean--”

Lance rolls his eyes, opting to ignore Keith’s awkwardness, “Yeah, whatever. Not that it’s your business, but no-one.” His eyes dart to the exit, but he decides to just get it over with, standing to his full height. “Alphas have the luxury of not worrying about this sort of thing, but Omegas don’t. What happens if I get taken in a battle, huh? Or Pidge? Do we know if the Galra have a similar dynamic to us? Even if they don’t, I can’t imagine it would be long until they found us fun, do you?”

Keith goes white and he reaches out to grasp Shiro’s human arm. Shiro swallows and looks sick. Lance wonders if maybe something else happened to their leader in his time in the fighting pits. He shudders and hopes he’s wrong.

“Sorry, Shiro.” He says. “You know the Galra better than any one of us,” Coran looks up from his task with an affronted expression and Lance smiles softly at him, “except Coran and Allura, maybe. I shouldn’t have--”

Shiro waves his arm and the Omega shuts his mouth, “You’re right.” He says. “I never thought I’d be lucky to only lose an arm. I hadn’t even thought of the implications for Omegas.”

Lance gives him a sad smile, “Most Alpha’s don’t.” He shrugs at Keith’s glare, “You guys aren’t so bad for Alphas, but you just don’t have the same concerns we do. Unless you’re actively trying to screw an Omega, it’s not really worth knowing to most.” Keith splutters and Shiro’s gaze becomes intense.

Lance shrugs and casts a careful glance at Coran. Seeing that he’s fully engrossed in the task of duplicating the preventatives he looks back at the two Alphas. They’re regarding him with a wary expression.

“Hey, whatever makes people happy. Love’s love, right?” They relax almost imperceptibly, but Lance can scent their relief in the air.

Coran clears his throat, “Keith, you should be fine to head on back. Shiro too. Lance, I need you to help me with understanding which of these would be the best course of action for you and Pidge.”

The slip into their names doesn’t go unnoticed and while Coran isn’t the most intimidating person on the ship, he is the most senior and there is an unspoken rule to not cause him too much trouble.

Shiro and Keith exit the Med-Bay with a curious peek back at Lance as he approaches their weird space uncle.

Coran points to the seat across from him at the desk he’s got set up and Lance sits without trouble, grinning when the royal advisor pulls out a jar of what can only be described as candy. He does this all the time when he wants to talk about something hard or upsetting and it never fails to put every single one of them at an odd sense of ease – even Shiro.

Coran frowns before saying, “The Galra do have a similar reproductive system to humans. They’re incredibly resilient and it shows in their biology… Your human Omegas…” He trails off and looks uncertain. “I think being prepared is definitely the best course of action, but you need to make sure you keep yourselves out of their reach, Lance. When King Alfor was alive, the ways of the Galra were actually pretty civil and the courting rituals were beautiful – in their own way. Now…” he shrugs, “Shiro was lucky. If he had been an Omega…”

“Whatever you do, do not have this conversation with Pidge.” Lance hisses, Coran nods, obviously understanding Lance’s concern. “Please replicate the implant. She would absolutely prefer suppressants, but we couldn’t find any of those and the implant should be almost fool proof for three years at least.” He runs a hand through his hair, heart breaking for Matt. Was he… is he…? Nope. Not going there. “Obviously, I gave her an idea of why these were so important, but, please, for her sake, do not tell her about Galra reproduction. Not until we have Matt and her dad, anyway, or at least until we have a lead.”

Coran looks uncertain, but he nods, trusting in Lance’s judgement in this case. Finally, I bring something to the team, he thinks, bitterly.

“Alright, Number Three. I’ll generate a couple of these now and when they’re ready, I’ll let you know.”

Lance nods and stalks off to find Hunk.

Chapter Text

He’s in the ship’s kitchen (galley?), unsurprisingly, playing around with some of the ingredients he’d found at the Space Mall.

“Hey Lance,” he greets the blue paladin with a plate of what looks like pancakes but they’re a bright magenta, “try these.”

Sitting at the ‘breakfast bar’, Lance shrugs and digs in without fuss. “They’re good, Hunk.” He sighs. “Do you have any more of that blue butter stuff? Or maybe the green sugar syrup?”

Hunk rummages around in one of the cooled drawers and pulls out the syrup.

“Thank you.”

He must do something with his face – or maybe it’s his tone – because Hunk sits down across from him, his own food untouched. “You okay, buddy?” He asks, gently.

Lance shrugs and looks down at his plate, swirling his pancake in the not-quite Maple syrup. He guesses he should probably tell Hunk, but he doesn’t want to worry him.

Instead he says, “Do you ever wonder how many aliens have the same reproductive dynamic as us?”

“I mean, statistically, there will be millions, but not really, I’ve never really had to think too hard about it. Beta privilege, I guess.”

“I guess.” Lance agrees with a shrug, “I suppose I never thought about how our secondary genders could be used against us, you know? How vulnerable it makes us.”

Hunk frowns. He’s a clever dude, he’s probably putting two and two together and actually making four. He reaches across to grab at Lance’s hand, “You know the pack will protect you guys, right?”

Lance waves his other hand, “I know. I know that, but it’s not like it’s not like we’re always all together on a mission. Sometimes we’re on opposite ends of a Galra ship or some of us are on the ship and some of us aren’t, or some of us are planet side, I--”

“Hey.” Hunk stands, rounds the counter and brings him in for a hug. “Hey. Calm down.” He rubs his hands up and down Lance’s arms in a subtle scenting gesture. Beta scents aren’t particularly strong, but they are comforting when they come from a pack member and Lance’s shoulders drop. “There you are.” Hunk pulls back to hold the Omega’s face in his hands. “I’m not gonna lie, okay? There are times when it’s gonna be more dangerous, more difficult, but we will do everything we can to make sure you are safe.”

And honestly, that’s what Lance needed to hear. He leans his head into Hunk’s hands and nuzzles into one of his palms before he can think better of it.

He doesn’t have time to be embarrassed by it, because there’s a growl from the doorway. Hunk and Lance turn, eyes wide. Keith stands there with his hand over his mouth, frowning.

“Sorry.” He says, “I don’t know…” He trails off and the beta gives him a measured look before he clears his throat, taking pity.

“What’s up?” He asks, grabbing a spatula and waving it at Lance’s plate as he makes his way back to the pan. “Lance, eat the rest of those, I want to know if you think I can add anything.”

It’s a testament to both the time Lance has spent trying Hunk’s food and to his friend’s trust in his palate and Lance almost – almost – preens.

He pushes the pancake around a little more, mopping up some of the syrup and putting it into his mouth. He takes his job as taste-tester seriously – no-one wants a repeat of the purple egg incident – and he considers the taste and texture of the food carefully. The flour is a little bit stodgy, but the taste itself is fantastic, he thinks. He hums and tilts his head to the side as he considers. He takes another bite and closes his eyes to focus on the taste. Berries, he thinks.

He opens his eyes and blinks at the way Keith’s mouth is hanging open. Hunk glares at the Alpha and clears his throat. Keith jumps – a rarity in and of itself, it’s so hard to catch him off guard – and his mouth twitches into a snarl as he turns his attention back to Hunk. The Beta crosses his arms across his broad chest and draws himself up to his full height.

“Uh…” Lance starts eloquently, “what’s going on?”

“Keith’s being a perv.” Hunk growls.

“I was not.” Keith shrieks. Literally shrieks. Lance has never, never heard him sound like that.

“Yeah, Keith, you were.” Hunk relaxes his stance a bit, but the frown remains. “You can’t do that, buddy. I’m not letting the team get weird with the Omegas. Not gonna happen.”

Keith has the decency to look well-chastised. He physically shakes himself and drops he shoulders, but he meets Hunk’s gaze head on. Lance rolls his eyes, typical Alpha. He’s definitely underestimating Hunk. Bad idea.

“It’s going to take some getting used to, Hunk. I can’t help it.”

Lance winces. Bad choice of words. The Omega glances at Hunk and pales when he sees how he almost trembles with restrained rage. Very bad choice of words.

“You ‘can’t help it’?” Keith seems to realise his error and he’s trying to backpedal as Shiro walks in.

“Hi, guys. Woah.” Shiro frowns and subtly scents the air, physically cringing when he scents the anger and fear. “What’s, uh, what’s going on in here?”

“I didn’t—That’s not what I meant, Hunk and you know it.”

“Regardless, Keith, that’s a fucking stupid thing to say.”

Shiro comes to stand beside Keith, “What is going on?” He asks again.

“Stay out of it Shiro.” Hunk warns, and Lance trembles a little. Going up against pack-Alpha. That’s big. Huge even. It’s almost never done by Betas. “Then what did you mean, Keith, huh? You can’t help ogling Lance?” Lance’s face heats and he swivels his gaze back to the red paladin, “You can’t help being inappropriate? Where will the line be with that attitude? Sorry, I jumped you, ‘I can’t help it’.”

He does the air quotes and everything, and deep down Lance is so proud of him, but he realises he’s shaking. He looks down at his hands. Then he scents it. Challenged Alpha. So not good.

He stands and puts himself between the three of them, facing the Alphas. He can’t tell if it’s Shiro or Keith letting those pheromones fly. Could be either of them, but Keith does actually look like he’s shrinking away from Hunk. His face looks pained. Lance frowns.

“Stop.” He says. “Enough.”

Shiro growls and it’s the only warning Lance gets before he follows it with, “Lance, sit down.” It’s drenched in Alpha Command, and the Omega’s knees give out. He catches the back of his head on the kitchen worksurface and goes sprawling to his hands and knees. He bares his nape and trembles, hot tears on his face.

Never has any Alpha used their Command on Lance – even his Ma when he was a kid. He has always been very, very careful to not have that happen.

“Lance!” Hunk cries and, from what the blue paladin can hear, he’s making his way around the island to him again. “Shiro, stop!” His voice is wavering.

“Shiro, stop. Let him up.” Keith begs, frantic. Lance is looking down at his hands, dark against the floor in the galley, he can feel his elbows shuddering with the effort of not giving out and fully presenting.

This close to his withdrawal heat, the Command has caused another problem, biologically speaking, and he lets out a sob of humiliation.

“Lance, I--” Shiro starts and Lance can feel him trying to come close, to touch, to comfort.

“Let me up.” He snarls, anger and shame clear in his voice.

There’s a second of tense silence before Shiro says, softly, “Ease.” It’s tremulous and apologetic.

Lance feels the tension leave his frame and Hunk grasps his arm to help him upright. He feels a trickle on the back of his neck and lifts his other, free hand to touch the back of his head. He winces and his hand comes back red. He can feel his head starting to swim, but he’s not sure if it’s an after-effect of the Command or concussion.

He sways and Shiro steps forward with a hand out towards him. Lance flinches and Hunk bares his teeth. Shiro lets his hand drop away. The omega doesn’t look at him, doesn’t look at Keith either and Hunk tuts.

“You’re bleeding,” The Beta says, unnecessarily, but Lance hears both Alpha’s take a shaky breath, “Let’s get you to the Med-Bay.”

“Okay.” He slurs, still feeling horribly compliant.

With a final glare at the Alphas, Hunk guides Lance out the kitchen sliding one of the Omega’s arms over his shoulder to better support him.

And if he gives one of the Alpha’s a shoulder shove, well. Lance is just happy his friend loves him enough to care.

Chapter Text

After a short stint in the Med-Pod for what turns out to be a pretty bad concussion, he avoids the Alphas for two whole days. He’s ignored the gentle knocks on his door a couple of times and he has successfully avoided training with them. Choosing, instead to train when everyone else has gone to sleep. He supposes that Hunk must have given Allura some kind of excuse as she hasn’t been around to lecture him about the importance of being a paladin. That, or she’s watched the security feeds.

He purposefully picks the harder exercises and he knows it’s a way for him to fight against the horrific feeling of total submission.

It keeps replaying over and over in his head and he hates himself a little bit each time. If I were a better Omega it wouldn’t have happened or I should’ve let Hunk handle it or I’m a pathetic pack-Omega run rampant through this thoughts and he beats the shit out of the droids in the training room to try and gain a sense of self.

He’s about halfway through day three when his luck runs out.

He’s heading to the kitchens at around the right time for everyone else to be in training and when he enters the room he stops dead at everyone gathered there, clearly waiting for him.

He’s so shocked that for a couple of seconds he just stares at them, Pidge, Keith and Shiro’s gazes swivel round to meet his first, followed quickly by Hunk, Allura and Coran.

He watches the Alphas’ nostrils flare and he feels an odd shiver down his spine. He presses his lips together and shakes his head once, stepping back out into the corridor and attempting to make a quick getaway.

“Lance!” Shiro calls after him, following him out into the corridor, and Lance just barely stops himself from bolting.

“No. Nope.” He says, as he continues making his way back to his room. It’s fine. I don’t need to eat.

Shiro grasps his wrist, so, so gently, “Lance, please, wait,” and he keeps his voice pitched in such a way that Lance knows, he knows, that he won’t accidentally Command him, but the blue paladin spins around snarling.

“Let. Go.” He warns.

Shiro drops his arm like it’s a rattlesnake and takes a couple of steps back. Lance realises that he’s probably throwing out some pretty crazy pheromones right now, but he’s not sure that he’s comfortable enough to get it under control. He never thought he would see any of his teammates as ‘the enemy’. As a threat, he corrects.

Pidge comes to him slowly, hands up. “Lance,” she says, “please, come back and let us all talk.” She’s trying her hardest to emit calming pheromones, but they’re a little all over the place. It almost makes him smile. She’s so young and it’s so new.

“No.” He answers succinctly. “No.”

“Please, Lance. Shiro--” his snarl becomes louder, resonating in his chest, and Pidge’s eyes widen, “He’s got an idea. After… after what happened the other day--”

“The Command.” Keith supplies and Lance snaps his head to look at him. He pins him with large blue eyes, which he knows must be radiating fear. The Alpha swallows audibly and turns his gaze briefly to his mate.

Lance follows his gaze and feels his chest tighten despite his righteous anger. Shiro stands with his hands clasped tightly in front of him and his eyes on the ground. Wrong, his brain screams, pack-Alpha. Wrong.

It’s an instinctual, painful tug on his gut that the pack-Alpha looks so defeated. His Omega compulsion to soothe wars with his pride at having been brought low by Shiro.

Giving that Command to Lance shifted the power dynamic unfairly in the Shiro’s favour and Lance feels like a large portion of the trust between them is gone. That trust had been hard-won to begin with, and now… well. Lance worries that giving that kind of trust in the first place is what made it so easy for Shiro to issue that Command.

But. Lance knows misogynistic Alphas. He knows that Shiro isn’t one of them. It’s just hard for the Omega to bring himself to forgive Shiro’s actions – even if a big part of him understands that the whole thing was likely an accident – when it puts him at such a disadvantage. 

“Look.” Pidge goes on, and Lance returns his eyes to her, realising that his snarl has died a death. “Shiro wants to try some exercises with us, you and me, which he thinks will be worthwhile.”

Lance opens his mouth to reiterate that he doesn’t want to be near either Alpha right now. To make it clear how angry he is, and will likely be for a very long time, but he glances back at Shiro and the way his broad shoulders drop a little lower and the way he keeps his eyes downcast. He pauses.

He huffs, hunching his shoulders and crossing his arms over his chest in a self-protective gesture. “What’s this idea?” He asks, his voice is gravelly, still churning with a growl.

Shiro twitches, but Keith is the one who explains, “Apparently it’s something you would have eventually learned at the Garrison.” He looks at the line of Shiro’s shoulders with a frown and continues, “While Alpha’s have the Command,” he pulls an odd face, something like sorrow mixed with irritation, “Omegas have the ability to Counsel and Quell.”

Pidge looks far too excited for Lance’s frayed nerves. He can feel his eyebrows trying to crawl into his hairline.

“I’ve never heard of it.” He says.

This time Shiro speaks and Lance suppresses a scowl. Be civil, if nothing else. “It’s not something generally taught to Omegas outside of a military setting.” He offers so quietly that if Lance weren’t hyper-attuned to everything coming from an Alpha’s mouth, he might have missed it. “It’s taught to prevent--” He swallows and it clicks in his throat, “to make sure an Omega can shake a Command and prevent Alpha’s from being able to use their biological dynamic to force anything on an Omega.”

Lance can feel himself shaking. He can feel the adrenaline trying to leave his frame. “Why have you waited until now to teach me? To each us?”

Hunk is watching the exchange carefully from the sidelines. From what Lance can tell of his demeanour, he’s cautiously optimistic and seems to have forgiven Shiro’s misstep.

Shiro clears his throat and spares Lance a quick glance before returning his eyes to the floor. Something weird is happening. “Before your suppressants wore off, I didn’t know you were an Omega and after… I didn’t think of it.” He answers honestly. “I didn’t realise how important it would be to our pack until… until I did it. I’m so sorry, Lance. I didn’t think and you paid the price for it. After everything happened, and in the days we’ve not seen you, Hunk advised me that you had expressed concerns about being an Omega in the middle of this war, and I just—I proved at least some of those fears true.”

Lance stares at him trying to comprehend what’s happening. Shiro had not looked up to make eye contact with him again. I don’t understand.

“Why won’t you look at me?” He hears himself ask. He can’t drop his defensive posture, but he can feel himself softening. Something in him is soothed by Shiro acting in such a deferential manner.

Keith frowns, while Hunk and Pidge regard the ongoing exchange with something akin to awe. Shiro ducks his head a little more, he looks up at Lance through his lashes. In any other situation, Lance would probably make some kind of inappropriate comment about those lashes.

“Lance.” He says, and his voice is tinged with exasperation.

Something in Lance prickles at that. “What? Haha, Lance is so stupid, he doesn’t understand. What the hell is going on?” He can hear the increasing panic in his voice and from the way everyone’s eyes are widening, he knows his scent is also panicked.

Shiro coughs and twitches like he might take a step forward, “Lance, that’s not what we think. You’re… Look. Packs have their hierarchies. You’re the pack-Omega. The unmated pack-Omega. What I did--” He stops and draws a shaky breath. “It’s unforgiveable. I’ve broken the pack’s trust in me. Your trust in me.” He sighs, “I want to try and teach you how to utilise your own Omega abilities so that I – so that no-one – can ever take advantage of your dynamic again. Please.”

“That doesn’t answer why you won’t look at me.” Lance says, but his arms finally drop to his sides and feels a little bit of his anxiety dissipate.

Keith speaks for Shiro and it’s almost enough to set the Omega’s alarm spiking again, but he takes a deep breath and wills it away. “You being the pack-Omega means something, Lance. Technically, you outrank me.” He says this with a pointed look and Lance knows that Keith is referring to the relationship between the Alphas as opposed to his standing as the red paladin. “Shiro… He’s ashamed and the Alpha in him is… he’s trying to show you how sorry he is. You know this behaviour goes against the grain for an Alpha. Biological dynamics have a way of fucking with everyone, Lance. What Shiro did… it can break families. Pack-Omegas have left their packs, even the mated ones. He – we – don’t want that to happen.”

Lance stares at Keith and then at Shiro. He’s a long way from the Alpha who had made the Command. He knows that this might be a hard-slog, training usually is, and this one will be specific to him and Pidge due to their secondary gender. However. If it would prevent Lance from ever feeling that helpless again, he was willing to put aside the hurt and anger and try.

“Fine.” He says, “I don’t forgive you, Shiro.” He watches both Alphas carefully for any sign of reproach, but instead he just sees dejected acceptance, “But maybe this will go a long way to repairing the trust between us and we can see where that leads.”

Shiro finally raises his head enough to lock gazes with him and Lance is almost blown away by the sadness in them.

Chapter Text

They begin the new training the following day.

Hunk is delegated to the sidelines, he is to intervene if needed, and Keith will be the Alpha to issue the Commands. Shiro’s role is to teach the Omegas to Quell. Everyone felt that asking Shiro to do the Commands would be too taxing on everyone.

Lance stretches out his limbs. He’s tempted to try a few yoga poses to try and settle his mind, but he doesn’t want to feel so exposed in front of the Alphas. He’s still feeling horrendously jittery. He makes do with a few of the usual pre-training stretches they all know by heart and stands loose limbed.

Pidge looks enthusiastic beside him, within touching distance, and Lance feels a spark of envy. If this had been something that was broached with him before he would probably be feeling the same. As it is, he’s just ready to get it over with.

“Okay, Keith,” Shiro begins, “when you’re ready, I want you to issue a Command to both Lance and Pidge separately. I want this one to be a gentle Command. Let’s not run before we can walk.”

Keith nods and his mouth is set in a hard line. He’s uncomfortable too, Lance realises.

“Lance.” The blue paladin squares his jaw, nodding imperceptibly, giving permission, “Quiet.”

And just like that, he can’t talk. He opens his mouth to make a quippy remark about how Keith would have to use a Command to win an argument with him, and no sound comes out. It’s terrifying.

At least this one doesn’t have the added bonus of me leaking into my pants.

“Pidge,” she nods her own assent, eyes wide when she realises what the Command actually means to an Omega, “Sit.”

It’s testament to how gently Keith is able to use the Command when she carefully sits down and crosses her legs.

“You did not just Command me like a dog.” She mutters.

“Sorry, guys.” Keith says and steps back to take a seat with Hunk.

Lance watches as Hunk places a calming hand on Keith’s shoulder and how the red paladin leans into the touch briefly.

“Quell is all about shaking a Command.” Shiro says and Lance watches him warily.

“No disrespect, Shiro,” Pidge declares, “but will you be able to teach us this? With it being an Omega ability?”

“A fair question.” He responds. “At the Garrison, for a while before Kerberos, this is what I did.” Lance feels his eyes widen and he opens his mouth to ask why none of them had known this about him before, then scowls when he remembers he’s under a Command. Shiro seems to pick up the query nonetheless. “I have seen first-hand what a Command can do to a pack or unit. My own family pack was torn apart by a poorly issued Command…” He trails off before he shakes his head, physically shaking himself out of his reverie, “If I could ever help ensure that it wouldn’t happen to other Omegas, I vowed I would.”

Lance rolls his eyes. Yeah, that worked out for you. He sees Shiro’s hurt flash across his face, but cannot bring himself to apologise.

Shiro clears his throat, “Quell. It’s not a verbal thing – which is just as well. The Command Keith has given you, Lance, is surprisingly well-chosen,” I would disagree, “it is a mental purge of the Command itself. Try reaching into yourself, as we did when we were visualising Voltron coming together, and pushing the Command away.”

Lance closes his eyes to focus. He reaches into himself. Feels the knot of anxiety at not being able to vocalise anything and what this Command could – and probably is – used for. He feels his eyebrows lower.

Peripherally, he can hear Pidge asking further questions and Shiro’s responses, but it’s like he’s underwater.

He focusses on the meaning of the Command. Quiet. It’s a loaded Command, but the meaning is the same any which-way you slice it. Silent. Wordless. Without voice. Mute. He grasps onto the meaning of the Command and holds it; it’s like catching smoke.

He thinks about the word Quell. Overcome. Conquer.

He takes a deep breath, holds it for a moment and releases it. Exactly the same way he does when he’s firing his rifle. He pushes – and Shiro absolutely has the correct terminology for this – the Command of quiet away from him. He makes it so the meaning doesn’t apply to him anymore. Calm and controlled. He takes another breath and pushes harder until he feels something snap. It’s like a tether he didn’t know was there and then—

“Very funny, Keith.” He grumbles with just the tiniest amount of heat, opening his eyes and fixing the Alpha with a glare. All eyes swivel to him. “What?”

Shiro smiles, “That was incredibly quick.” He says by way of an explanation.

“No kidding!” Pipes Pidge, “My ass is getting numb! How did you do it so fast?”

Lance shrugs, feeling a bit self-conscious. “I don’t know. I guess… I thought about the meaning behind the Command and pushed back on that?” He glances at Shiro, and, seeing approval in his eyes, nods. “Yeah.”

He watches in fascination as Pidge absorbs what she’s been told and closes her eyes to try.

She frowns and Lance can see her physically struggle against the Command. “Try relaxing.” He suggests, gently.

She lets her shoulders drop a little and her hands relax in her lap. She takes a deep breath and on the exhale she begins to stand. She’s a little wobbly, but she manages it. She opens her eyes with a triumphant grin.

“Great work.” Shiro says, but he keeps his eyes on Lance, something indecipherable on his usually open face. Lance frowns and Shiro breaks eye contact with him. “Keith, again.”

They run through a series of similar Commands with the difficulty of each increasing and each time Lance breaks the Command first. He puts it down to his inclination towards self-reflection, but the way Shiro looks at him every time makes him think it’s something else.

He realises that Keith is being particularly careful not to trigger any arousal with his Commands and Lance blushes as he realises that both Alphas probably smelled it on him before. Or maybe Hunk explained. In any case, Lance is very surprised by both Alphas.

If he were being honest, he would have put money on Keith being the one to accidentally issue a Command. If for no other reason than that his social behaviours leave a lot to be desired. Knowing that Shiro’s own pack was pulled apart because of a poor Command almost makes Lance more angry with him.

Logically, Lance knows that it was an accident, but the fact that he’d had to ask for permission to be let back up stung. Normal social protocol would have been to instantly release the Command, but Shiro hadn’t. Reflecting, Lance wonders if perhaps he had just been so shocked by what he’d done, that he simply couldn’t. He frowns. Perhaps his hesitation was as a result of trauma.

After training, I’ll talk to him, he decides I can’t let this fester.

“Okay, guys. Let’s move on.” Shiro walks to stand directly in front of Lance while Keith moves to stand in front of Pidge. “Counsel. Counsel is the Omega’s equivalent to the Alpha’s Command. The difference is the delivery. For a Command to take hold, the Alpha has to put force into the word.” His eyebrows draw down again as he looks at Lance and the Omega shakes his head when he sees apology in them, “For an Omega’s Counsel to be fully effective, it has to be made a request – a suggestion. A lot of Omega parents do it without realising, to keep their children out of danger. When you’re both ready, I want you to make Keith and I kneel.”

Lance’s eyebrows shoot into his hairline. This is well over the usual boundaries of what is considered proper for their secondary genders. He feels a swell of fear and quashes it before it can affect his scent. There’s a part of him that recoils at the idea of having Shiro kneel at his feet and another part, where his injured pride resides, that almost revels in it.

While Lance is busy having a crisis of character, Pidge begins.

“Keith, please kneel.” She puts emphasis on the word and nothing happens. Keith smirks a little.

“You’re gonna have to try harder than that, short-stack.”

Pidge scowls at him, but there’s the edge of laughter in her voice when she says, “You Alphas make all of this look so easy.”

“Try not to force him down.” Shiro suggests.

Lance thinks on it. He straightens his shoulders and spine. “Shiro,” the black paladin turns back to Lance and nods his agreement, “I think you would be more comfortable kneeling.”

Shiro’s eyes widen as his knees buckle and the ground comes up to meet him. He hits the floor hard and Lance stands there looking at him in horror. “Ease.” He tries. It doesn’t work. “Ease. Ease!”

Hunk runs over when Lance begins to hyperventilate.

“Lance! I’m fine!” Shiro cries, he looks like he’s trying to stand and Lance shudders, remembering all too well how the Command had felt.

“Lance, buddy, you need to calm down. Take some deep breaths, okay?” Hunk demonstrates for him, “In through your nose, out through your mouth.”

Pidge and Keith stay as they are, watching the whole incident unfold. Pidge looks concerned for her team mate, but also proud. Keith looks… Lance isn’t sure how to describe it. He looks irritated, but the irritation is mixed with something Lance can’t place. It does weird things to his insides.

He does as he is instructed by Hunk and takes a few careful breaths.

“Good, Lance.” Shiro praises. He’s smiling widely, the Omega realises, and it’s enough to make his stomach flip. “Now, I want you to push this Counsel away from me in the same way you did with the Command. Counsel has more to do with the intent behind it, the only ways it can be undone, once in effect, is by an Omega revoking the Counsel or by physical distance. It’s no different to Command in that way, but the removal of it is done mentally. Unlike a Command to an Omega, we Alphas have no defence against it. It is your greatest asset.”

Lance nods shakily and reaches for the Counsel. He hums as he figures out how to revoke it. Shiro stands a little unsteadily, but he stands.

“Well done, Lance. Excellent work.”

Lance ducks his head, embarrassed by his outburst.

“I probably should have explained how to release us from Counsel.” Shiro says with a laugh. “Pidge, whenever you’re ready.”

Lance goes to sit with Hunk for a bit while Pidge starts to grasp how to issue a Counsel. He feels himself become a bit glassy eyed as he replays it all in his head. He never, ever wants to have to use it again. Not on his pack.

Chapter Text

He lingers as the others leave. Waits around for Shiro to, predictably, ensure everything is put in its proper place. Keith watches them for a moment from the doorway, but not scenting anything other than mild anxiety from both of them he leaves, offering Shiro an encouraging smile as he ducks out of the door.

Shiro keeps his back to Lance for a few moments and the Omega fiddles with his fingers.

“Shiro, can we talk?” He asks, quiet and nervous.

Shiro keeps stacking the water pouches in a somewhat neurotic fashion, “Sure, Lance. What’s up?” His tone is full of forced casualness.

A silence stretches between them, fraught with tension. Lance continues to fiddle with his fingers in a nervous tic.

“I’m sorry.” Lance eventually blurts. Shiro’s head whips around to face him. “I’m sorry. I should have accepted your apology. I realise it was accidental. You’d never do that intentionally to anyone. I was just so angry that you’d done it to me.”

“Lance, I--”

“I’m not the most important member of this team, but I like to think I’m a pretty important pack member – at the very least, I like to think I’m on even ground with just about everyone. No-one had ever issued a Command to me before,” Shiro draws in a sharp breath and he almost looks like he might cry, “and I was so careful not to have it happen. I dunno, maybe I kind of hoped it would never happen? Or that, you know, maybe my Alpha would have it, the first Command, I mean? I don’t know what I’m saying.” He shakes his head, “The point is, I accept your apology.”

Lance blushes a little at the implied use of Command in heat, but stands tall and looks at Shiro directly. He doesn’t waver. He waits quietly for Shiro’s response.

When he does speak, his voice is rough with emotion. “I am so sorry, Lance.”

He comes a closer until they’re standing almost chest to chest. He looks deep into Lance’s eyes and carefully and oh-so-gently, pushes an errant lock of Lances hair from his face. The Omega allows it with a flush.

“I wish I could take it back.” He admits.

“I believe you.” Lance asserts, gently, pressing his head into Shiro’s lingering hand. After a pause, he asks, “Can you tell me why it took so long for you to let me up? Just so I can understand.”

Shiro takes a step away and withdraws from Lance’s personal space. The Omega almost whines at the loss. Not yours, he reminds himself, sternly.

“It’s complicated.” Shiro murmurs.

“If you’d rather not talk about it--”

“No… it’s-it’s fine. Just give me a moment.” Shiro scrubs a hand over his face.

His eyes are haunted and Lance’s heart bleeds for him. Lance remains uncharacteristically silent, waiting for Shiro to decide what to share with him.

“What happened with my family pack has a lot to do with it. I promised myself I would never inflict a Command on an Omega. Not under any circumstances.” He sighs, and rubs the back of his neck. “Lance. Look, I haven’t told anyone this,” including Keith is heavily implied, “as Champion, I had to…” He swallows, “I had to do a lot of things to survive. Using the Command was one of them.”

Lance’s heart breaks.

“And when I-when I used it on you? I-I just--”

Lance steps carefully into his space, “Stop.” He says, softly, gripping Shiro’s hands. “Please.” The Omega focusses on emitting a calming scent and smiles lightly as Shiro takes a deep breath and the acrid smell of Shiro’s panic begins to dissipate. “It wasn’t cool, but thank you for helping me to understand. I forgive you, okay?” Shiro nods and leans into Lance more fully. The Omega rubs his cheek against the head resting on his shoulder, not-so-subtly scenting the Alpha. “And you need to forgive yourself.” He whispers.

Shiro shakes his head. “I can’t.” And it’s so raw and pained that Lance feels tears prick his eyes.

“You must.” Lance hisses. “You did what you had to do as Champion. What happened the other day was an accident, and now I understand it more. I get it. I don’t like it, but I get it.”

They stand in silence for a few moments and Shiro takes a few steadying breaths before he finally raises his head to look the Omega in the eye. “You’re a great pack-Omega.” He says, with a smile that has Lance blushing.

“Uhm. Thanks.” He replies, dropping Shiro’s hands and dipping his head.

“No, you are.” Shiro emphasizes, “You care so much for everyone in the pack. It’s a wonder I didn’t see it before the suppressants wore off.”

Lance lets a little smirk flit across his face. It’s the only warning Shiro gets before, “Too busy shagging Keith all over the place to notice little me. Oh! By the way, can you guys not on the observation deck, thanks.”

To Lance’s unending delight, Shiro turns a hot vermilion and lets out a squeak.

“Lance.” He groans, bringing his hands up to his face and taking a mortified step back as he lets out an exasperated chuckle.

“You guys are not subtle.” Lance says, with a grin, “But for what it’s worth, you know none of us would care, right? I meant what I said, ‘love’s love’, yeah? It must be hard trying to keep it on the down-low. Live a little.” He shrugs and clasps his hands behind his back, grin splitting his face.

Shiro half-glares over the tops of his fingers, Lance laughs at him, not unkindly. He feels much better about everything that’s happened in the past few days, and he knows they’ll get past any residual upset without any trouble. They’re a pack, it’s what they do.

When Lance looks up from Shiro’s half-smiling, half-mortified face, he just manages to catch Keith’s face disappearing round the edge of the door.

“Your mate’s here,” he says, “I’m gonna go. I promised to help Coran clean the Med-Pods. See you later, Shiro!” He waves at the Alpha vaguely as he runs out the door.

He nearly barrels into Keith and he starts grinning widely again when he sees that he, too, is a rather fetching shade of red.

He heads off to the Med-Bay. Coran had made good on his promise of reproducing the preventatives and had asked both Omegas to swing by when they had time. Lance know Pidge had headed over in the morning before training, but as Lance had told Coran he would help with the Med-pods later today, he hadn’t seen the need to make the trip twice.

Lance wonders If Pidge had been so eager to get the damn thing in in the hope to stop her heat. Maybe he should have given her a refresher in Omega sexual health. Then shakes his head with a laugh. If anyone knows everything there is to know on a subject, it’s Pidge. Maybe she’s just hoping for that extra bit of protection.

He can’t lie. So is he.

Chapter Text

Keith’s part Galra! He is part Galra. Lance knows the whole team is reeling with this new knowledge. He’d laugh at the peculiarity of the whole situation if Allura weren’t being so cruel already.

As it is, he’s got a hold of Keith’s ear as he drags the red paladin down to the Med-Bay, after hearing from Kolivan – and wow is he a beautiful Alpha – about the trial they put Keith through. He was injured – injured – and no-one had thought to mention it.

“Ow, ow, ow, ow!”

“Good! Christ, Keith.” He sits him down on one of the stools and goes about pulling supplies out of compartments in the table. Coran had stayed with the princess, concerned about leaving her alone with their Galran guests, which meant that Lance would be finally putting his first-aid training to use. “Maybe open with ‘hey guys, great to be back, meet my new friends, they tried to kill me’.”

“They didn’t try to kill me, they--”

“Shut up, Keith.” Lance grouses, “I know, okay, I was being facetious.”

Keith gives him a half smile, which looks a bit drowsy, “Big word, for you.”

“Shut up, Keith.” He says again, frowning as he lines up the supplies on the table next to the stool. “I’m not as thick as everyone thinks I am.”

“I don’t think you’re thick.” He’s frowning now, but his eyelids are drooping.

“Mm.” He dismisses, “Wait here.” He jogs back to the bridge.

From the way Kolivan spoke about the trial, it went on for hours. Alphas have a lot of stamina, but if he was injured early on, this could turn really serious. At the very least, he wants to have someone with him to keep Keith calm while he does what he needs to do. He briefly considers using Counsel on him. It’s become clear from the three days of training so far, that Lance is proficient at it, but he shudders when he thinks of breaking the Alpha’s trust that way.

He cannot imagine how Keith’s world has been completely turned upside-down today, and now he’s so, so vulnerable and Lance knows – he knows – who Keith will want and need with him to make it all easier.

He calls from the door, “Shiro, I need you.”

The Alpha looks up at him from where he’s trying to calm Allura into being able to actually speak with any form of civility. He frowns at Lance and has a quiet word with Hunk before excusing himself from the bridge entirely. If Lance had to guess, Shiro has left Hunk in charge of stopping the Alteans from throwing away their first solid alliance with a group that may be able to help them more practically.

Lance turns and jogs back to the Med-Bay without checking back to see if Shiro is following him. He can scent the Alpha’s worry and Lance tries for a calm and soothing scent, but he thinks that he might miss the mark as Shiro overtakes him and goes straight to Keith.

“Keith.” He approaches the younger man quickly, standing in front of him to hold a gentle hand to his nape. Keith whines in the back of his throat and his shoulders give a little shudder as he takes in Shiro’s scent. “Oh, baby.” Shiro murmurs.

Lance quietly stands behind Keith and watches them for a moment before he clears his throat, “Keith, I need to have a look at your shoulder, okay?” He watches him nod, his shoulders still shaking. Lance wonders if he might be crying. “I’m going to touch you as little as I can, and Shiro will be here the whole time.”

Shiro spares him a grateful look and says something into Keith’s ear which is too low for Lance to hear. Gently, Shiro removes Keith’s armour plates and then unzips the under-suit. Lance, for his part, watches in silence as the injury to Keith’s shoulder is revealed. He sucks in a quiet breath. Keith trembles.

It’s relatively deep, more than a glancing blow, but not so deep that the various potions Coran keeps in the Med-Bay won’t be able to fix it. It’s still oozing a little blood and the Omega winces at the red staining down his pale shoulder.

“I don’t think he needs to go in the Med-Pod.” Lance hums and Shiro nods his agreement.

Lance imagines that Keith is relatively grateful at that. None of them like the pods. They’re great, like, Lance is happy that he didn’t die when the bomb went off, but God the pods are disorienting and they make them feel pretty shitty for a day and half. Where they can (read: when they’re not going to die if they don’t) they prefer not to use them for the more minor injuries that can be taken care of with the Altean medical supplies.

“I’m gonna start by cleaning the wound.” Lance announces and he reaches for a wad of gauze and the disinfectant.

Keith hisses and flinches at the first touch of the gauze and Shiro hushes him quietly, “I know, it hurts.”

Lance works quickly, trying to disengage from the small whimpers Keith is letting out. It breaks Lance that a pack-member is in so much pain. He wonders if it’s somehow worse that it’s Keith because he’s stoic to a fault.

He knows from experience how each of his friends react to pain. Hunk is his favourite because he’s just so honest about it. He’ll get a papercut and it’s like his world is ending. Pidge is pragmatic about pain and has a habit of rambling on about how pain-receptors work and how important it is that the signals work in the way they do. Lance thinks she does it to distract herself. Shiro… Shiro gets this faraway stare like he’s trying not to think at all. PTSD. But Keith. Keith always gets this look. Determined and angry and fierce. He sort of shrugs his shoulders with an ‘I’m fine,’ and doesn’t allow anyone to help, save Shiro.

That he’s just letting out little whimpers of hurt and shaking like he’s going to come apart at the seams hurts. It puts a little pit in Lance’s belly and he hates the Blade of Marmora just a little bit.

He spritzes the wound with what he’s termed ‘the magic spray’. It makes the cut scab over quickly and the redness of the skin surrounding it disappear. The swelling abates and Lance knows the pain will have lessened. It’ll scar.

He watches the tension finally drain out of Keith’s frame and he’s not surprised when Shiro looks up at him with a little bit of alarm as the red paladin slumps forward into him more fully.

“He’ll be fine,” Lance assures him, “but I think he’s had a long enough day, don’t you?” At Shiro’s wide-eyed nod, he continues, “Let’s get him to his room.”

He’s not unconscious, but he’s floaty. His eyes are red-rimmed and Lance’s heart breaks just a little bit more. He’s a little surprised when Keith slings an arm over his shoulder so that he and Shiro can virtually drag him back to his room.

They’re most of the way there when Allura comes stomping around the corner looking all kinds of angry. Coran is at her heels trying to calm her, but it seems to be a losing battle.

“Galra!” She’s saying, her hands flying about in fury, “They’re all the same! Killers. The whole lot of them, unable to think about anything other than ‘victory or death’.”

Lance feels Keith withdraw into himself, trying to make himself look smaller as he hangs between Shiro and himself. His feet are doing their best to keep moving, but he’s so uncoordinated that it puts Lance in mind of Bambi.

“Princess--” Coran has spotted them and he’s trying to cut off her tirade.

“I don’t want any Galra on my ship. Murderers.” She hisses. She’s so blinded by her rage that she hasn’t seen them. “They should all be stopped, should all be slaughtered for what they’ve done.”

“Allura!” Lance says, stemming her vitriol and making her go pale as she takes them in.

Lance passes Keith to Shiro more fully and steps in front of the two Alphas. You want a pack-Omega? Fine.

His lips pull back and he can feel his canines lengthening for the first time since the suppressants wore off. He can feel the anger in himself battering at his own self-control, but he holds it firm, channels it.

“That’s enough.” He growls – full on growls. Lance isn’t sure he’s ever made a sound like it before. He can sense the protective, back off or I’ll fuck you up pheromones slipping off him in waves and he registers the way Keith whines low in his throat. He doesn’t turn around, keeps his eyes on Allura and Coran. “Shiro, take Keith back to his room.”

“Lance, calm d--”

Lance cuts him off, “Take him back to his room. Now.”

Shiro pauses and the Omega can scent Keith’s surprise. The two Alphas make their way around the three facing off and keep on towards the sleeping quarters of the ship. Both of them give him an odd glance as they round the corner at the end of the corridor but he just straightens his shoulders.

“Lance, I--” Allura’s voice is trembling and before laying into her he wonders if the Alteans are as entirely unaffected by pheromone-fuckery as they usually seem.

“No, Allura. No.” He says, baring his teeth at her. He knows they’ll look wickedly sharp right now. His protective Omega nature is right at the fore of his thinking and he’s sure he’ll regret everything he says later, but he can’t bring himself to care in that moment. “What you’ve just said is so unlike everything you claim Altea was working towards. Execution, really?”

She has the good sense to look ashamed, but the way her fists clench at her sides make Lance believe she’s not totally contrite.

“You are always telling us how Altea was this great place of education and knowledge and peace. Yet here you are spouting hate about a group of Galra trying to take down the Empire.” Coran opens his mouth; shuts it again when Lance fixes him with a cool stare.

“The Galra destroyed Altea.” She hisses and Lance can hear the anguish in her voice.

Lance shrugs, not giving ground, “And that’s terrible, but we can’t change the past. It wasn’t these Galra. It’s happened, it’s done, and I know it hurts, but you have to let go of that anger, Allura.”

“How would you know how it feels? To have everyone, everything you’ve ever loved just be gone in seconds.”

“We’ve had our fair share of war on Earth.” He tells her. “We know the pain of losing people and places. Granted, we’ve not yet managed to destroy our planet, but we understand war.”

She scoffs, “A planet so young knows nothing about war.”

“Really?” He quips, anger in his voice so clear she looks up at him, “Because we’re the ones doing a pretty fine job of trying to stop the Galra. I don’t see any of the more mature planets doing all that much more than bending a knee – just look at Olkarion. And let’s not mention how, until we turned up, the Lions were just sitting pretty, waiting for their paladins. Perhaps you should step down of that high horse you’re so fond of and think for a minute about how much good an alliance with the Blade could do.”

“They’re killers.” She says again.

“Yeah, well, so are we.” He responds, plainly. “War makes monsters out of people, Allura. The fact that you don’t seem to grasp that proves just how much of a spoiled little princess you are.” Coran gasps, but doesn’t move to defend her.

She’s livid, Lance can see that in the way she holds herself. Rigid and proper and frowning. He knows what’s coming next before she does and his mouth ticks up in a dangerous smile.

“Defending your pack doesn’t mean you can speak to me in such an insolent way. More so now we know that one of them is Galran.” She spits the word like a curse and Lance feels his anger flare. “I want him g--”

“You better think really fucking hard about that next sentence.” He snaps, “You’re not our princess, Allura. We’ve moved on from such archaic practices. You say you don’t want anything to do with the Galra, but where would that leave Voltron, hmm? You know our best pilot is Keith. Without him, none of us would be here, do you understand that?”

The way she continues frowning at him, makes him think she has no grasp of what Keith means to the pack as a whole.

“You’ve grown up in the lap of luxury. You have no idea what the rest of us think or feel. It’s why you found it so hard to get us to bond in the beginning, throwing your weight around and getting what you want has always been the way of things for you, but it won’t wash with us. You want us to fly Voltron, fine, but don’t you for a second think that any one of us will let you talk to Keith the way you did on the bridge.” He steps into her space and sees Coran advancing closer to protect her, “You even so much as look at him the wrong way, we’ll be gone, do you understand? This isn’t our war, not yet, and we will leave. Pidge has more pressing matters than running around playing soldier. Her dad and brother are out there somewhere. Hunk and I want to get back to our families. Shiro could use a fucking holiday and Keith, well,” he smiles viciously, “I’m sure the Blade would be more than happy to have him, being the fighter that he is, perhaps they will do more good than you ever will.”

She stares at him, swallowing. They’re the same height, but radiating rage, Lance feels huge. Coran looks concerned, but he doesn’t approach Lance, doesn’t chastise him. Lance wonders if that speaks louder than anything he’s said because the next words out of her mouth are:

“I’m sorry.”

He steps back and laughs without humour, “Don’t tell me,” He says. “Tell Keith, princess.”

And with that parting shot, he strides away, trying not to think too hard about whether he’s damaged his relationship with the two of them irreparably.

Chapter Text

The next few hours are… interesting. Lance heads back to the bridge, opting to give Shiro and Keith their privacy.

When he arrives at the bridge, he sees that Hunk and Pidge are standing awkwardly with their (hopefully) new ally. They look like they might have run out of things to talk about.

Lance huffs a breath and walks over to them. He extends his hand to Kolivan, “I’m Lance.” He introduces himself, smiling.

Kolivan turns and observe him for a second too long before he grasps Lance’s arm at the elbow, firmly. “Kolivan,” he responds, “forgive me, but… you are Omega?”

Lance sees Pidge and Hunk throw a glare Kolivan’s way, “And you’re an Alpha.” He returns, panicking a little when he bends a knee and presses his forehead to Lance’s hand. “Uhm.”

He straightens, “A pleasure to meet you,” is what he says, but his face doesn’t move. Lance has an odd desire to see how a smile would look on his face.

He hisses at Pidge out the side of his mouth, “Did he do this to you?” She shakes her head. “It’s nice to meet you.” He squeaks, feeling his face flush hotly. Kolivan eyes Pidge and inclines his head at her.

“Your scent is very strong.” He says by way of an explanation, but that just makes him blush harder and causes him to try and suppress his scent to prevent embarrassing himself further. It doesn’t work. Kolivan’s lip quirks, but he still doesn’t smile. “My apologies.”

“No problem.” Lance says, affably, still trying to recover. Hunk and Pidge beat a quick getaway (traitors). “I’m sorry that your welcome has been… less than friendly. The princess, she--”

“I understand.” He answers, and Lance realises that the Alpha’s still in his personal space. Certainly, he’s closer than Lance would usually be with a stranger. “We have all lost much during the course of this war.”

Lance thinks that over. He tries to be subtle, and glances at the Alpha’s neck, his wrists, but he’s stymied by the Blade’s uniform. Kolivan’s lip quirks again.

“My mate is on the base.”

“Oh?” He winces at the volume of his own voice. “Sorry, I don’t mean-that is to say… uh. Congratulations?” He puts his hands over his face in horror and groans.

Kolivan touches the back of one of his hands gently and Lance peeks out between his fingers. There’s a little smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, just barely there. Blink and you’d miss it. Lance wonders how widely he smiles for his mate.

“No harm.” Kolivan says, on the edge of what might be a laugh.

Lance brightens a little. “Would you like to take a walk with me?” He asks, worried when the small morsel of humour leaves Kolivan’s face.

“I do not think the princess--”

Lance frowns, “You let me worry about her.” He gripes. Boldly, he slips his arm through the Alpha’s and lead him away from the bridge, “You’re our guest, it’s time someone treated you as such while everyone figures out our next move. Besides, I have a bit of nervous energy to burn.” He raises his eyebrows at Kolivan and flashes him a wicked grin, “You did try to kill one of my pack members, after all.”

Despite the seriousness of his nature, the Alpha seems to understand that Lance his only teasing and he ducks his head. His braid obscures his face, but the Omega is convinced that he sees the flash of teeth.

Lance walks them through the halls, he avoids the private quarters, feeling on edge after his fight with Allura and not wanting to disturb Shiro and Keith. They don’t really talk. Lance natters on, explaining, “This is the observation deck, please don’t go in. Oh, this is the training deck, as you can see we have multiple rooms dedicated to different disciplines. Let me show you the pool.”

There’s something about Kolivan’s steady presence that soothes Lance like a balm. He’s quiet, speaking gently now and then to ask Lance questions, solid. He knows there’s something to be said for Alpha-Omega dynamics and he knows that’s part of what’s at work, but there’s something intangible in the way Lance feels calmed by him.

“And this is the kitchen. Hunk’s a brilliant cook.” He beams brightly wat the Beta as they walk in. Hunk gives him a smile, but remains wary of Kolivan. “Down boy.” Lance laughs, “He’s a pussy-cat.”

He guides the Alpha to sit at the breakfast-bar and his face splits around a grin as Kolivan asks, “Pussy-cat?”

Lance shrugs, “Sorry. It’s a term of endearment? Like, you’re a good person. Sweet.”

“I do not think anyone has called me sweet.” He says, lips twitching.

“Ah, a first for everything.” He turns to Hunk and pleads, “Do you think you could rustle something up for us Hunk, buddy?”

He stares a Kolivan for another second, watching the way the Alpha runs his eyes down Lance’s back like he’s waiting for something. “Sure.”

Hunk watches the way Lance keeps smiling. It’s not that Lance isn’t a smiley person, generally, but there’s something behind his eyes. An odd light that lends a glow to his face that’s almost otherworldly. His eyes are bright, feverish, but Hunk can’t scent any distress when he gives a subtle sniff and he’s voice and breathing are even.

He places down three plates of food and sits opposite the Alpha and Omega.

“Where’s Pidge?” He asks, wriggling his eyebrows. “You guys left together.”

Hunk snorts as he grabs three glasses and a carafe of space-fruit juice for them to share. “She’s with her true love – the tech. I think she ran off to the engineering room to tinker with Green.”

“Oh, that’s a shame.” Lance’s mouth twists into a slightly-mocking pout. Hunk swats at him with a dish-towel.

“She’s young, we both are. We have plenty of time. If it happens, it happens. If it doesn’t,” he shrugs, “that’s fine too.”

“You intend to court her?” Kolivan asks. Lance snorts into his drink.

Hunk looks at Kolivan with an affable smile, “I’d like to, but Pidge is…” he searches for the right way to describe her.

“A nerd.” Lance supplies. Hunk throws him a glare.

“A ‘nerd’?” The Alpha asks, brow furrowing in a way that Lance finds disgustingly endearing.

“Oh, uhm. Super clever. To Pidge, knowledge is power and her thirst for it in unquenchable. It’s a family trait by all accounts. Her brother is the same.” The Omega grins slyly, “Hunk’s clever too. They’d make a good match.”

“It is desirable to have an intelligent mate,” the Alpha agrees, “more so when your intelligence is well matched.” Hunk watches a light dim in Lance’s eyes. “How does courting work on Earth?”

Lance nearly chokes on his food, so Hunk replies, “It depends. Typically, if we’re talking an Alpha-Omega courtship, they will each will take on certain tasks to present themselves as a desirable mate. In the old days, it was things like hunting, cooking, building a nest. Now, it’s a bit more nuanced. We don’t view Omegas as less--”

“Most people don’t.” Lance interjects and Hunk smiles sadly at him.

“Most people don’t view Omegas as less capable than Alphas.” Hunk continues, “By all accounts, if you like a person, you take an interest in what they enjoy and tailor the courtship to it. For instance, if I were to court Lance,” Lance flushes prettily, but rolls his eyes, “I would probably start with an offer of garlic knots like his Papa makes, or some of the more high end face products he uses--”

“Stop telling everyone my secrets!” Kolivan’s lip twitches at that.

“And if Lance were interested in me he would probably--”

“Too easy, buddy, that set of spanners you were eyeing at the Space Mall or my Ma’s recipe for Pastelitos de guayaba.” At Hunk’s interested look, Lance grins, “No chance. That’s sacred.”

“Anyway. That’s kind of how courting works on Earth. Once you’re mated you’re considered off the market and it’s bad form to proposition any side of a mated pair.”

Kolivan remains quiet while he considers and then offers, “Galran courtship isn’t too dissimilar.” Lance perks up, giving the Blade his full focus. “Amongst our people, before the Empire, Omegas were treasured. We didn’t treat them as fragile, but they were – are – integral to our society. I suppose our general interests are a little less varied than on Earth. Weapons are perfectly acceptable courting gifts and it is often stranger for that not to be a part of the courting process.”

Lance snorts and at Kolivan’s look of confusion, explains, “I can totally see Keith thinking a knife is an acceptable courting gift.” Hunk laughs loudly, agreeing.

The Alpha nods sagely, clearly approving, “Now,” he blows out a breath, “many Alpha’s, and Betas, mate with each other as opposed to Omegas. There’s so few of them. When an Omega does present it can be dangerous for them. Many of our Blades are Omegas.” Lance’s eyes widen, “It’s not that they’re persecuted, but more that Galran Alpha’s are possibly less in control of themselves? And they have numbers on their side. That said, there are many love matches which start as two Alphas or two Betas that then grow to include an Omega.”

Lance considers this, “So, it’s not unusual for Galra to have more than one mate?”

Kolivan shrugs and his voice takes on a teasing note, “I think, perhaps, we are less constrained in our mating practices. It’s not unusual for us to take more than one mate, but we also open up our relationships to other free persons or mated pairs. The main goal for the Galra is procreation.”

This time Lance does choke. It’s not pretty and at least it’s only the juice, but it comes out of his nose and runs down his shirt. He’s so distracted that he initially doesn’t notice Shiro and Keith joining them in the galley. Kolivan gently pats him on the back and offers him a cloth to wipe his face.

“You guys have orgies?” Lance screeches.

He considers Lance a moment before responding, “I don't really know what orgies are, but we enjoy variety. We know that our mate is ours, or mates, I suppose, just as they are ours. The bond we form is for life in the same way it is for humans, but we each accept that we may have the desire for someone else. Sometimes it turns to a love match if all parties are agreeable, and sometimes it remains a relaxed arrangement.”

The Omega stares at him, feeling like his world tipped off-kilter. Mated… throuples?

Shiro clears his throat from the doorway and Lance finally realises it isn’t just their guest and Hunk in the kitchen anymore. He takes in the appearance of both men. While they don’t look well-rested, they both look better than they had. Keith’s face still looks drawn, and his hair is a bird’s nest, but his gaze is bright and interested as he stares at Kolivan.

Shiro’s face is a little darker, his eyes focussing on where Kolivan’s large hand is resting on the small of Lance’s back, just over a scent gland. He draws himself up taller, biceps flexing and thighs becoming taut, and Lance rolls his eyes. Typical Alpha.

Lance stands and stretches just a little, he makes his way over to Keith and says, “You still look like shit.”

“Gee, thanks.” Keith replies, but his face is open. Lance can see a question there, assumes he want’s to talk about what happened with Allura, but Lance shakes his head minutely and guides him to a chair.

“Let’s get you something to eat.” He suggests.

Keith opens his mouth to say he’s fine, but Lance just raises his eyebrows at him in a way that makes his decidedly uncomfortable. It’s a look that says, ‘Don’t tell me you’re not hungry, I know you are and if you don’t eat something under your own steam, I’m gonna force-feed you’. And he is hungry. Famished, now that he’s not feeling every single ache from the trial.

“What’s this about orgies?” Shiro asks, arms crossed and still posturing, as Hunk, Saint of all Saints, pulls two more full plates of food from the warming drawer.

“Oh my God, Shiro.” Lance hisses, “Stop. We were talking about courting rituals.” Shiro fixes him with a look that has Lance squaring off. “Not every culture is as restricted as we are.” The Alpha has the good grace to look ashamed, but it only lasts for a second before he’s squaring off at Kolivan again.

Kolivan, for his part, runs his eyes over Shiro with a speculative gaze.

“How’s your shoulder?” Lance asks Keith at the same time Kolivan asks Shiro, “Are you spending Lance’s heat with him?”

Chapter Text

Everyone swings their eyes to Kolivan.

“Uh. N-No-one--that is--no-one--” Lance stutters, his face flaming. Shiro is standing with his mouth agape and Keith looks about ready to combust. Hunk looks horrified.

Kolivan levels Shiro with a cool stare. Shiro visibly gathers himself, draws himself taller still. “No.” He says, “I have a mate.” He places a hand on Keith’s shoulder, squeezing meaningfully, before drawing it back.

“Not the argument you think it is.” Hunk warns, face a picture as he takes in the new information. He glances between the two Alphas, and shrugs. Lance supposes he’s about as surprised as he was. Maybe less, since he didn’t find them fucking.

Shiro’s gaze doesn’t waver from Kolivan’s.

“I can scent that his heat is close. He is a good Omega, no?” Lance whimpers and hides his face in his hands. “Desirable?”

Shiro blushes hotly and his scar stands out more starkly against his face. Lance is curious to know his answer as much as he wants the floor to swallow him whole. Keith at his side breathes carefully, watching both Alphas. He’s tense. Waiting for one Alpha to launch at the other.

It crosses Lance’s mind that they might be watching two pack-Alphas.

“He… is.” Shiro admits, and doesn’t that just feel like a punch to the chest, “But I love my mate.”

“As I love mine.” Kolivan placates, “However, we do not believe in restricting our choices.”

It would sound clinical, if not for the clear adoration on his face while talking of his nameless mate.

“I would not ask Antok,” so he does have a name, “to confine himself to me. He makes the choice to be mine as I am his. I do not worry about with whom he shares his bed,” he shrugs, “unless we wish to add to our pack family.” He spares a glance at Lance and for a split second the Omega feels like he’s going to be devoured.

Keith puts himself between the Galra and Lance. He wobbles a little, still not completely recovered, and the space he squeezes into is small, but it gets his point across.

“Lance is our pack-Omega.” Keith says, “You can’t have him.”

It should be a compliment, a part of him feels like it is, but another part is just so indignant that anyone thinks that he could be incapable of making his own choices. Especially an Alpha – or three. It stings.

“O-kay.” Lance interrupts, standing and pushing his chair out with a scrape. “Kolivan, thank you for your company and your… flattering proposal, but I am not planning on spending my heat with anyone. I don’t need to.” He flushes pink again, and Hunk gives him a look of sympathy. “I don’t intend to spend my heat with anyone other than my mate.”

“You have--” Kolivan starts, looking more apologetic.

“No, but when I do…” Lance shrugs. “Only for my mate.” He reiterates. He steps back from the food and the men gathered around in the kitchen. “Keith, I may be pack-Omega, but I’m not yours, or Shiro’s or Hunks, or, hell, even Pidge’s. I don’t belong to any of you. I’m mine.” Keith gives him a wide eyed glance and crosses his arms, dipping his head in agreement, “If I had chosen to… It’s not your call to make.” He says, softly.

He knows that Keith doesn’t necessarily know how to conduct himself around, well, anyone, and the Omega doesn’t want him to feel like he is being judged for that. It must be even harder with all these pheromones flying around.

Shiro is suddenly very much in Lance’s space. He can feel the heat of his body before the Alpha rests a gentle hand on the small of his back. Something in Lance’s brain twigs it as a claiming gesture and his knees weaken a little. He’s trying to replace Kolivan’s scent, he thinks wildly. He thinks about moving away, but decides to remain where he is as he straightens his spine. Keith gives both Shiro and Lance a heated look which is gone so fast, Lance isn’t even really sure it was ever there.

Kolivan stands and gives Hunk a slight bow. “Thank you for the food, it was exquisite. You can do more with the meagre rations aboard this vessel than many Galra can accomplish with much more at their disposal.” Hunk’s face pinks and he smiles, warmly. “I should depart. My mate will likely want to know what our next course of action is to be. I would have liked to speak more with the princess, but…” He sighs and rolls his shoulders.

“If you can come tomorrow, she may be more open to an alliance.” Lance offers, and he feels Keith’s and Shiro’s sharp gazes on him. He flushes. Getting really sick of that now.

They want to know what happened after they left, but Lance isn’t sure he can deal with that right now.

“Do you need me to take you back to the base?” Keith asks, but his voice betrays how tired he is. Kolivan gives him a soft look – the same a parent would give a child.

“It is alright. I will send a communication to the base and have them collect me.”

“I’ll take you to the landing bay.” Hunk offers and stands, rounding the kitchen worktop to escort the Alpha.

Kolivan turns to Lance. He gives the Omega a measured look before kneeling once again to press his forehead to Lance’s hand. Lance accepts the gesture with a hot blush.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Lance.” He says, before following Hunk out of the galley and down the hall to the landing bay.

It’s silent after their departure and Shiro’s hand is still resting warm on his back. Lance’s neck prickles and he glances at Keith. There’s a speculative heat in his eyes as he runs his gaze over Lance. Shiro’s hand presses more firmly into Lance’s spine and the Omega can see the way it releases his scent into the air in the way that Keith’s eyes widen.

This is dangerous, Lance thinks, alone with two Alphas.

He clears his throat, “I think Hunk was fine about you two being mates.” He tries for levity, but he can hear his voice shake a little, nervous in the presence of the two of them and Shiro still hasn’t removed his hand.

“Mmm,” Shiro agrees, “You were right.” His voice is low, right next to Lance’s ear and the Omega jumps a little.

Keith moves towards them, looking uncertain and Lance feels an edge of panic. Keith’s nose wrinkles and Shiro’s hand abruptly leaves his back. Lance feels suddenly bereft and he can’t stop the small whimper that escapes him. Shiro moves around to stand next to Keith so that the two of them are in Lance’s field of vision and he has an unhindered route of escape.

“I’m sorry.” Shiro says, “I didn’t mean… Sorry.”

Lance shakes his head, afraid of what might happen if he opens his mouth.

Keith takes a careful step forward, stopping when Shiro places his hand, that same goddamn hand, on his arm. Keith frowns down at it, before moving his gaze to meet Lance’s.

He wets his lips, tongue pink. “I know it’s the hormones, and having another Alpha in our territory” he says, “I know that, but can we—may we scent you, Lance?”

Shiro’s face is a little pink. He doesn’t move to pull Keith back and is, instead, watching Lance carefully for his reaction. The Omega wonders if it’s weird that Shiro as pack-Alpha didn’t ask, if it’s telling. He wonders if it has something to do with the Alpha’s horrified reaction to issuing him a Command. Has something in the pack been irrevocably damaged because of an accident? Has there been such a huge shift in the dynamic of power?

Keith has phrased the question carefully. There’s no inflection in his voice which could lead to any kind of accidental Command and there’s no threat of judgement if Lance were to refuse. They are treating him with a level of respect owed to a pack-Omega.

He knows that pack dynamics are nuanced, but here, both Alphas are showing care to ensure that no level of power is exerted over him. It would be easy to Command him and demand his submission so that he can be scented. Keith is asking because I outrank him, his brain supplies, if Shiro had asked, there would have been an unfair balance of power.

Slowly, he nods. He holds out his shaking hands to them, expecting them to scent his wrists. It would have been the more proper way to go about it. Instead they each take a hand and step into his space. He trembles. Keith leans in, cheek almost touching Lance’s, “Is this okay?” He murmurs, “I-I’ve—Other than Shiro, I’ve never--”

“It’s fine.” He squeaks, then shivers as Shiro leans in on his other side.

“If you want to stop,” Shiro whispers, “we’ll stop.”

Lance nods and squeezes his eyes shut as the Alphas lean closer. Gently, the two of them press their cheeks to Lance’s. He shudders, but doesn’t ask them to stop. It’s nice.

Leaning up onto his toes, Keith nudges at the hinge of Lance’s jaw with his nose, and the Omega tilts his head, eyes opening. The movement presses his other cheek fully into Shiro’s and the Alpha rumbles low in his chest and moves closer, shoulders slouching as he lets go of Lance’s hand and grips his hip, lightly, thumb tracing a circle there.

Keith rubs the edge of his jaw against the scent gland on the back of the Omega’s neck as Lance bows his head to allow it, and the Alpha lets out a pleased growl at the scent it produces. Lance’s nervous happiness is a sweet thing and it curls in Keith’s chest, warm and comforting. Shiro nudges at Lance’s jaw on his other side and Keith is forced to move or be smooshed.

He looks at Lance’s face instead. His eyes are slightly glassy, but Keith’s not worried. It’s a pleased look. Lance catches his gaze and gives him a shaky smile.

Something squeezes tight in Keith’s chest at the look and, carefully, he runs a hand through Lance’s hair as he regards him. The Omega’s eyes flutter closed and Keith admires the way his lashes cast shadows on his cheeks. Keith moves his hand down over the back of his head, slips it over Lance’s shoulder with a gentle squeeze and continues moving his hand lower. He brushes softly at the scent gland at the base of his spine and Lance jerks. Keith stills and Shiro goes tense.

“Okay?” Keith asks.

Lance nods after a moment of hesitation, and Keith allows himself to press his hand firmly into the small of the Omega’s back. The tension thrumming through Lance drains out of him and he suddenly drops his head to Shiro’s shoulder with a whine.

I know it’s pheromone-fuckery, but this is nice, Lance thinks. Shiro raises his hand to run it through Lance’s hair. He gives it a gentle tug to tilt the Omega’s head back. Lance’s opens his eyes and stares at Shiro, eyes half-lidded. His tongue darts out to lick his lips and The Alpha’s gaze drops to his mouth. Keith lets out a pant into the space below his ear. It’s too much. He’s never been scented in this way. It’s intimate.

He feels himself lean closer to Shiro, his eyes close again. A trill of anticipation runs down his spine. Keith presses a soft, barely there, kiss to the hinge of his jaw and Lance trembles. Shiro is right there less than a hair’s breadth away, but he doesn’t close the distance. He’s leaving it to Lance. Offering himself, but allowing the Omega the final step.

Just when he thinks he might take Shiro’s lips with his own someone clears their throat in the doorway. Lance jumps and spins, both Alpha’s backing off quickly.

Chapter Text

Hunk stands in the doorway. His hands are by his sides and he doesn’t appear to be anything other than slightly surprised.

“I thought I’d come back and ask Lance if he fancied a movie?” Hunk says, he gives them all a careful smile, “Is, uh… Is this a thing, now?” He points at the three of them and Lance’s face burns.

“No.” He squeaks, hearing Shiro and Keith shift behind him.

He spares them a glance and is gratified to see that their faces are just as red as his feels. They’re looking at each other intently. Like they’re having a conversation without any words passing between them. He frowns, feeling a knot of something like anxiety build in his chest. He doesn’t want to think too hard on it right now. He turns back to Hunk.

“What is it tonight?” He asks, trying, and failing, to change the subject completely. His body thrums with tension and he thinks his scent is giving away his hurt feelings, anxiety and minor alarm at having been caught mid-scenting.

Shiro moves a little closer again and the hair rises on the back of the Omega’s neck at his proximity. He shivers and Shiro reaches out slowly. Even without looking back he knows he’s broadcasting the move in the way that Hunk’s hand follows the movement.

“It’s not another Arusian rom-com?” He tries again, anticipating the hand on his back before it finally makes contact. He tries to ignore it, but his voice comes out high and breathy, “I don’t think I can sit through another one of those, the last one made me cry and you guys made fun of me.”

Hunk stares at the casual-not-casual hand on his back. At least it’s not directly on my scent gland this time. Though it’s not far off.

“Actually, Pidge has found a horror movie. I know you love those.” He raises his gaze to Lance and his eyebrow twitches up. Lance shakes his head. Please, don’t ask, he thinks, I promise I’ll talk to you, but not here. Not now.

“I could go for a horror movie.” Keith says, and he’s closer than Lance expected, almost level with him, but he doesn’t reach out in the same way Shiro has. “What kind? Jump scare?”

“You would like a jump scare, Mullet.” Lance mutters, and he’s stunned to silence by the quick grin thrown in his direction. His canines are lengthened, he thinks wildly.

“I’m not sure.” Hunk replies, he’s still looking between Shiro and Keith. Whatever he sees on their faces, must pass muster for the Beta as he smiles again, nods and continues, “Pidge has been saving it, even she’s not watched it.”

“You don’t think there’s any Galra in it, do you?” Shiro asks, and Lance thinks that yeah, maybe they’ve created enough horror for Shiro to last a lifetime.

“I shouldn’t think so.” Hunk shrugs, “The Galra didn’t deem the planet invasion-worthy, so I can’t imagine they show up much in their pop culture.”

How are they all conversing so casually? I feel like my knees are gonna give out.

His knees actually shake and it must send a tremor up his frame, because Shiro and Keith are suddenly sweeping him towards Hunk. His legs go where they guide him.

Hunk throws his arm over Lance’s shoulder as they reach the door and he feels a sudden and odd relief at Shiro’s hand leaving his frame and he and Keith falling back behind them. He can feel their eyes on him, boring holes into his back. It’s not a bad feeling, but it makes him feel somewhat hunted.

As they make their way to the common area, Lance swears he can feel their gaze turn speculative, considering. Hunk is twittering on about how Kolivan was good to talk to (agreed) and how he was relatively open about the Blade despite their relative need for secrecy. Lance wonders if it’s an interesting subject for Keith.

He feels a sudden wash of melancholy crest over him. Keith has had such a hard time of fitting in, being part Galra isn’t – hasn’t – made things any easier. And, oh! The way Lance had spoken to Allura! He isn’t sorry. He won’t ever be sorry for trying to protect his pack, but… he doesn’t want to have to mourn the loss of their tentative friendship either. Maybe something better will grow out of it, a new respect. Maybe it won’t and he’ll deal.

As they enter the common area, Pidge is finishing setting up. She’s dragged blankets from somewhere and dumped them in a pile on part of the sofa. Lance looks around. She’s dimmed the lights to their lowest setting, the sleep cycle. The huge room suddenly feels cosy.

Lance looks at the blankets, then at his pack. After the last few days, they could all do with reconnecting.

He pulls out of Hunk’s grasp and begins to work on a pack-nest.

It’s age old to him, this routine. Twist, roll, place. Fluff, spread, place. He had done it countless times at home. Would join his Papa to make it perfect. He feels the tears burn his eyes as he remembers all the warm nights in Cuba with his family. The way the kids would sprawl out and kick at the older ones in the pack. He remembers the way his parents would snuggle together while they watched them play.

He's so engrossed in making the nest and reliving memories he may never get to repeat, that it’s a surprise when Shiro starts to help. He’s humming a little nonsense tune under his breath – at least, it’s not a song Lance recognises - and then Keith joins them, sitting on his knees to pass the blankets to Shiro and Lance and Hunk is prattling on about popcorn and how he’s found something that sort of resembles it and then Lance can smell it and Pidge is finishing up and telling everyone to sit and he feels something in him bloom.

It's bittersweet and it feels like homesickness and it takes everything he has not to just burst into tears.

He thinks, maybe, he’s letting something show in his scent, because Hunk pushes him to sit and Pidge curls up into his side while the Beta settles in on her other side with her feet in his lap. It leaves a space open for Shiro and Keith on his other side and they sit next to him with Shiro in the middle. With the way that Shiro shifts, briefly pressing his arm against Lance’s, the Omega thinks they’re cuddling.

His face flushes as he remembers the almost synchronicity of the Alpha’s scenting him.

Once the movie starts, his face heats further at the hand which wraps over Shiro’s stomach and rests gently on his forearm and the warm pinky that reaches out to brush against his own.

Chapter Text

The movie, by all accounts wasn’t terrible. Being woken by Allura was.

“Paladins.” She calls, loudly, standing over them all with her hands on her hips. It jerks them all awake.

“Wha--” Hunk groans, tiredly, rubbing at his eyes like a toddler.

Keith seems to come awake faster than anyone, and, seeing Allura there, shrinks in on himself, huddling more firmly into Shiro’s side and folding his arms over his chest at the same time.

Shiro looks down at him with a frown and opens his mouth, but Lance beats him to it.

“What now?” He snaps, taking them all aback.

Pidge looks between the Omega and Allura, she scrunches her nose as Lance throws out some pretty potent protective pheromones. He tries to calm his speeding heart at the rude awakening, but it seems to have kickstarted a defensive response on behalf of his pack. Lance can feel Shiro looking at him and the Omega stands so that he and Allura are on level ground.

Some instinct prickles in the back of his mind at the thought of her being able to look down at him. He’s certain it has a lot to do with his impending heat, but he knows some of it comes down to the fight they’d had the previous day.

She gives him a haughty stare when he raises his eyebrows at her, tilting her head back a little. “The Blade of Marmora sent an encrypted communication last night with a desire to meet for talks this morning.” She tells them, “Be ready within the next varga.”

And then she’s gone, walking away stiffly as the paladins watch her retreating back.

“Does anyone think it’s weird she came to get us?” Hunk asks around a yawn, as he stands. He’s watching Lance with careful eyes.

Lance, for his part, is still stood protectively in front of his pack. Threat. His hands are shaking with nervous energy, but as Hunk watches, he takes a deep breath and seems to come back to himself a bit.

“She’s angry at me.” He volunteers. Probably best they all know about it before we go into whatever fresh hell we have to.

“Why?” Pidge queries, she’s standing now too, close to Lance in a bid to help him calm. He smiles at her as he registers her soothing pheromones.

“You’re getting better at that.” He murmurs, but doesn’t immediately start talking.

He shivers as Shiro stands and comes to a stop just behind him. He leans in a little too close for it to be totally proper. Shiro’s metal hand touches the back of Lance’s as he too asks, “Why would Allura be angry at you?”

He drops his head, unwittingly exposing the scent glands at his nape and he feels Keith’s hungry stare. He turns, stepping back a little farther from the group.

“I may have, maybe, possibly, implied that the Blade of Marmora could do a better job of stopping the Galra?” he spreads his hands out as he confesses, not making eye contact with any of them.

“What?” Hunk cries, incredulous. “Why would you say that? Aren’t we the paladins of Voltrons, we’re--”

“It wasn’t a reflection on any of you.” Lance says, quietly, bringing his hands to clasp in front of him. He looks down at his fingers. “She was just so… cruel to Keith,” he flicks his eyes up apologetically, “she was saying these awful things about the Galra and I kind of, I don’t know, snapped?”

“Awful things?” Pidge presses, and Lance opens his mouth, but Keith beat’s him to it.

“She said that all Galra should be slaughtered. All of them.” He supplies, eyes fixed on Lance like he’s seeing him for the first time.

Maybe he is, he only has eyes for Shiro.

“What?” Hunk looks angry. Angrier than Lance has ever seen him.

Lance wonders if perhaps Hunk’s trust has been broken somehow by this knowledge. That maybe, like the rest of them, he had been so taken with Allura’s assurances of peace one day that hearing how she feels about Galra, whether they affiliated with the Empire or not, has fractured something in him.

“Look, it’s done now. I might have threatened her the teensiest bit, and I can probably kiss goodbye to us ever being friends again, but she’s got the message.”

“You threatened her? Allura?” Pidge asks, then grins, “Big set of balls on you!”

The odd tension breaks, although Hunk still looks troubled. The darkness on his face eases a little when Pidge touches her hand to his.

Lance trembles when he realises the considering stares Shiro and Keith are giving him. It’s making him so confused and he hates it. He knew where he stood before. The sidelines of their relationship looking in and admiring the love there. Now, he feels almost like an interloper, like perhaps he’s overstepped his bounds as both a friend and as the pack-Omega. It leaves him feeling off kilter and he tears his eyes from them.

“I’m gonna go get ready.” He says, turning away from the group and heading towards the door while he stretches. “It’ll be nice to see Kolivan again, I wonder if he’ll bring his mate this time?”

Hunk frowns at the way the Alpha’s faces darken, and wonders if it has something to do with the scenting incident. He figures that maybe, after everything that happened with Kolivan, the way the Alpha’s had scented Lance had meant something. From where Hunk had stood, it didn’t look platonic. It looked intimate, loving. The Beta throws a look at the door, and then swings his gaze back to the Alpha’s.

“I’m going to get ready, too.” Pidge sighs, her face brightens as she add, “I can’t wait to see if they’ve brought any tech.”

She pats Hunk on the shoulder as she leaves and Hunk smiles after her for a second before he rounds on the Alphas, crossing his arms.

“What’s going on?” He demands, suddenly.

As one, they turn their heads to regard him with equally confused looks and Hunk sighs, relaxing his body into a less challenging pose.

“You--” He scrubs a hand through his hair, maybe it’s not his place, but, “Look. Lance is my best friend. I won’t let you hurt him.” They continue to stare at him with wide eyes, but they don’t interrupt. “You’re all adults, and after the talk with Kolivan last night, maybe it’s not all as black and white out here as it is on Earth – and God knows how long we’ll be out here! If… If you guys are planning to court him,” the Alphas throw a wild-eyed look at each other, “then fine, but,” he holds a finger up at them, “do not hurt him. He wears his heart on his sleeve and it’s easily bruised. Don’t dick about with it. If you are going to court him, do it properly and don’t… just don’t do it if you’re not all in.”

He gives them both a hard stare before he turns and leaves.

Well, he thinks, it’ll go one way or the other.

Chapter Text

Lance thinks that Allura has allocated teams in a fit of spite. Equally, the thinks that maybe Hunk is the best option as a partner for Keith right now. Although… with the nervous looks he’s throwing at Hunk, maybe not.

The Omega frowns as he watches Keith and Hunk head towards Yellow. He doesn’t like the way Allura turns away from Keith. Maybe his words haven’t had the impact he’d hoped. He throws her a parting glare as he makes his way to his lion.

He’s glad to be taking Blue to Beta Traz. He can already feel her rumbling presence in his mind. My paladin, she purrs, mine.

She welcomes them all aboard, but he can almost feel her probing at Shiro. Downside of a sentient ship, he supposes. No secrets. Not that he would ever keep any part of himself a secret from her, he would never want to. It makes him vulnerable with the others when they form Voltron, but he’s a believer in holding nothing back.

He reckons Keith is the same way. He would bet it’s why he’s so hot-headed.

Shiro, though, is fundamentally different. He is reserved. A true leader.

Lance blushes as he settles into his pilot’s seat. Shiro’s stoicism didn’t seem to extend to scenting. He shivers remembering the care of the hands that had held him, the warmth of their skin… their scents.

Keith’s scent is like woodsmoke and iron. Dangerous. Dark. Enough to make any Omega skittish. Shiro’s is softer, but more commanding, like cedar and bergamot. Calming with an edge of authority. Their scents suit them, Lance decides.

He shakes himself and focusses on the mission. Get in, get this genius, get out. Simple.

They have a bit of a journey ahead of them, even with the extra lightyears shaved off with a wormhole jump. Without thinking, he takes a deep breath as they head towards the wormhole.

Shiro is standing behind his chair, and Pidge is at his side. It’s an odd reflection of how they had left Earth, albeit, missing two.

As he inhales, he takes in a lungful of his pack-members’ scents. Pidge registers as what Lance has always termed ‘Baby-Omega’. The newly presented scent of her is something like lavender talc. He registers a note of heat-scent to it too and winces. Poor timing, but whatever. Get in, get out, he reminds himself.

Shiro’s carries the weight of his years behind it. Established Alpha. Pack Alpha. It’s addictive. It’s comforting. He’s forgiven Shiro, deep down, he knows he would forgive any of his team-mates any transgression, but his scent (and Keith’s, if he’s totally honest with himself) does things to him. Some of it has to do with their respective secondary genders, but a hell of a lot more of it has to do with his school-boy crush.

He scowls and shakes his head.

“Uhm, Lance?” It’s Pidge, her voice shakes.

“Hmm?” He answers distractedly, he presses a few buttons on the dash before he glances at her. She’s staring at him with wide eyes.

“I think… I think I’m in heat.” She whispers, vulnerable and so, so young.

He gives her a grim smile. “You are. Pre-heat, at least.” He confirms, “But I’m right here, okay?” There’s a pause, and then she nods, face resolute.

Shiro shifts, clears his throat. Lance can see him in his periphery. He’s frowning and he has his arms crossed. He knows what he’s going to say before he opens his mouth because he’s living it.

“So are you, Lance.”

The blue paladin shrugs, “I know. Gotta get this done, though, right?”

Shiro looks at both of them, troubled. Lance intuitively knows that he’s battling his pack-Alpha instincts to protect the Omegas of his pack and the soldier’s need to complete the mission they have been given.

He allows himself to emit calming pheromones for the benefit of both teammates and he smiles as he sees Shiro’s face clear a little. The Alpha throws him a grateful smile and says, “As long as you are both sure, we will continue the mission. If it changes, we’ll go back.”

“But what about--” Lance begins. He can see the question on Pidge’s face as well.

“We will go back.” Shiro affirms.

Lance stares at him, at the conviction on his face, and he knows, he knows, Shiro will do everything in his power to get them all back safe. He’s surprised to find that this includes abandoning the mission. At the same time, he’s not. Shiro cares about every one of their pack members deeply.

Lance swivels his gaze to Pidge for her assent. She nods, confident. “Okay.” Lance agrees.

Then there’s no more time. Beta Traz looms and the mission begins.

Getting in, it turns out, is the easy part. Everything goes to shit once they’re in.

Lance get’s the scan, but his knees shake when he realises that the Galra Warden of this base is an Alpha. He stands, scenting the air. He knows we’re here.

“Guys,” he hisses, after sending the scan to Pidge and once the Warden moves away down the hallway, “we might have a problem.”

“What’s up?” Shiro murmurs, attention clearly on his door while Lance stands in front of his with a frown. His gut is telling him they need to leave. Now.

“The Warden is an Alpha.” He hears Shiro sigh out a breath in response, but Pidges is worryingly quiet. He senses fear in her non-response.

It’s the first time either one of them have been on mission without any suppressants and in heat. Lance wishes they weren’t in heat. It would be easier. It would make Lance feel more comfortable in any case. It wouldn’t mean they weren’t still vulnerable, but it would mean that their secondary gender might not be so obvious. When they get back, Lance is going to have to talk to Coran, maybe the Blade, and ask if they can increase the scent dampening of their suits.

He thinks quickly. Something is wrong.

“Lance, he’s returning!” Pidge warns, panic plain in her voice.

“Lance, we can—”

But Shiro’s words are overridden by the growl from the end of the hallway.

Slowly, Lance turns.

Chapter Text

The Alpha is huge. His size was clear from how well he filled the door as Lance had watched him enter the cell, but this close, he looks bigger.

A tremor shoots down his spine and his canines lengthen in fear. He hears himself whimper from a distance.

“I’ve got Slav.” He hears Shiro say, “Pidge, time to go, get us out of here.”

“Shiro…” Pidge breathes, and in his head, Lance can see her watching the monitor, can see her wide eyes taking in the dot approaching his own.

“I know,” Shiro says, tense and there’s another voice at the end of his comm, “Oh, the blue lion, why didn’t you say so--” Slav, Lance’s mind supplies.

He’s frozen in place, fear running thick in his veins. He can feel the adrenaline on its heels. It floods his system, finally triggers his fight or flight. He’s never really been one for running from a fight, and the way the Alpha looms at the exit tells him it’s not really an option.

If there’s an opening…

He casts a quick glance out the corner of his eyes for an alternative route. He considers the ducts, but dismisses them quickly then the Alpha’s robotic arms unfurl. They’ve got reach.

His bayard appears in his hand and immediately takes the shape of his gun. He feels better with it in his hands, but the Alpha continues his stalk.

“Get Slav to the lion.” Lance says, sees the realisation dawn in the Warden’s eyes, but it doesn’t seem to deter him from his path, “I’ll meet you there.”

“Lance--” It’s a warning from Shiro.

Suddenly, the Alpha launches at him, “Get to the lion!” he orders, surprised at the force of his voice.

He dodges the first swing and gets off a couple of shots. He manages to get behind the Warden and shoots again, snarling when the robotic arms come up as a shield, then he’s running for the door into the next level.

He hears the Alpha give chase and he swears. He chances a look back – he’s fast, but for the moment, Lance is faster. He can hear Pidge shouting out warnings and Shiro cursing out Slav, but it all comes as if he’s underwater. He realises, as he’s running, long legs stretching as far as they will go, desperate to put distance between himself and the Alpha, that if he doesn’t get to where the others are things are going to end very badly for him.

“Lance!” Pidge shouts, “We’re turning of the gravity. Be ready.”

He activates his jetpack and leaps before she finishes the last sentence. He feels relief at the sudden space between himself and the Warden, but it’s short lived as the immobilising foam starts up.

“A little help!” He cries, trying to keep the foam off with his shield.

“I got you.” She replies and the dispensers stop firing at him to fire at the Warden instead. Lance throws a quick glance back and sighs in relief as the Galra is caught up in the foam.

It’s short-lived. He activates the quintessence syringes in his neck and it dumps a load of the stuff into the Alpha’s system, he doubles in size and Lance pales.

“Slav’s in the lion, I’m coming back.” It’s Shiro. Shiro who has lost a lot to the Galra. Shiro, Keith’s mate. And Lance knows down to his bones, be can’t let the Alpha’s face off. Can’t risk Shiro in that way.

“Get Pidge, I’m right behind you.” Lance says, and it’s almost true. He can see the hangar doors, he can feel Blue’s panicked rumbling.

The gravity switches back on and Lance feels a moment of disorientation, but he keeps his momentum on his feet.

“I’m here,” she cries, “get your ass here, now!”

“Doing my best.” He mutters, teeth gritted and breath short.

He feels sweat in his hairline, beading there and trying to drop into his eyes. I’m gonna make it, he thinks, just as one of those massive hands clamp around his arm.

It snaps and he screams.

He’s never broken a bone.

Not when he fell out of the tree in his backyard when he was nine.

Not despite the best efforts of the Alpha bully in homeroom.

Not even when the fucking bomb went off on the castleship.

It hurts.

“Lance!” Both of them shout out to him. He can hear the panic in their voices, but he can’t respond.

He swings his gun towards the Alpha, but he knocks it out of the Omega’s hand. “Submit.” The Warden growls, and Lance goes limp with the Command.

Slick floods the seat of his suit and he snarls. He Quells the Command quickly, thankful for the unending training they have been doing, and twists in the Alpha’s hold, heedless of the way his broken arm grinds at the movement, and delivers a hard kick to the Warden’s face. It’s enough for him to release Lance, perhaps in shock, and the Omega sprawls onto the floor, winded.

He glances up and sees one of the Warden’s biological hands, clawed and vicious, reach out to grab him again.

“Submit.” The Alpha tries again, and Lance fights the urge to bear his throat, Quelling the Command again.

“Lance!” Shiro throws himself at the Warden and is rewarded with an angry snarl and a backhanded smack that sends him flying.

“Shiro!” Lance cries, hand reaching out to him.

The Warden rips at the armour of Lance’s suit, throwing the chest plate away from them, and the Omega thinks he night be sick. “Submit.” He Quells it and squirms, trying to reach for his bayard.

“I will not.” He hisses, anger making him sound stronger than he really is, he knows.

“No matter.” The Galra growls, and suddenly he’s looming over Lance, holding him down. The Galra’s mouth opens wide and Lance throws his uninjured arm in front of him.

It works. He bites into the flesh of Lance’s forearm instead of his neck, narrowly missing the scent glands on his wrists, the Alpha’s mouth is so big. He cries out again and Shiro starts running at them once more, arm glowing and rage on his face.

The clawed hand of the Galra scratch into Lance’s suit, trying to gain access, while the robotic arms fend off Shiro as if he were nothing more than an annoying bug. The resilient fabric gives on his shoulder and he feels the claws drag into his skin like razorblades.

The Galra drops his arm from his mouth and tries again. Lance draws his head back as best he can and headbutts the Alpha. His helmet flies off with the force of the blow and his head cracks onto the unforgiving floor of the base. He thinks he might lose his vision for a second, because then the Galra’s hand his on his face, turning his head to better access his neck, claws scratching at his skin and catching his eye, while he leans in, “Submit.”

He Quells the Command once more, but he can feel his resolve weakening.

“No.” He snarls. He bites at the hand on his face and feels a moment of triumph when his canines catch and cause the Alpha to recoil. He can taste the blood in his mouth.

Shiro finally manages to rip one of the robotic arms off the Galra. He’s beautiful in his fury, Lance thinks, realising that perhaps he has a concussion. The Galra turns with an angry growl, clearly intending to rip Shiro to pieces, but Lance is quicker. He wills his bayard to him in the second the Warden is distracted and the gun is in his hand and pressed to the Galra’s chest before he really registers it.

He sees Shiro’s face pinch with pain and briefly wonders why before he fires. His aim is off. It’s not a kill shot, but its’s enough to get the Alpha off of him. He rears back with a roar and Lance scrambles to his feet. He grabs his helmet.

“Shiro, let’s go.” He urges and half runs toward Blue. He’s about halfway across the hangar before Shiro is there and, just as he thinks he might collapse from the shock of everything, the Alpha grabs at him, lifting him and running them the rest of the way.

Chapter Text

Shiro puts him into the Pilot’s chair, and rushes towards the back of the ship. Before Lance touches anything, Blue is off.

Her anger thrums through him and he shrinks before realising she’s not angry at him. She’s angry for him.

“Oh, Lance.” Pidge says weakly, her small hands fluttering around him.

He smirks, trying to ease her fright at the sight of him. “You should see the other guy.” His voice slurs and he frowns.

It’s the wrong thing to say. She bursts into tears and hugs him, mindful of his various injuries, “I was so scared for you.”

As he’s looking at the cockpit around him, something feels off.

Shiro reappears and gently pushes Pidge away from him.  He mourns her warmth. Then Shiro is pulling off his armour plates and ruined under-suit down to his hips.

“Hey,” Lance murmurs, rolling his head to look at him, “could at least buy me dinner first.” Definitely concussed.

“Pidge, get me some gauze.” He orders, and then the pain is back full force. Lance whimpers as Shiro presses into the wound on his shoulder first. “You stupid, brave man.” Shiro hisses at him, voice thick.

“Tha’s not nice.” Lance pouts, “Sort of.”

“Shiro…” Pidge’s voice warbles, and Lance rolls his head back to her. She’s managed to get his sleeves off his arms and he looks down at them.

His right arm is hanging oddly. He knows it’s broken, remembers feeling the bone snap, but the adrenaline has worked it temporary magic. There’s a dull throb as he acknowledges it’s broken, like a promise of the pain reawakening.

His left is mauled. Teeth marks wrap around it and he can see the tearing. Blood is dripping down his arm and making little pools on the cockpit floor.

“Well,” he says, “at least he didn’t get my scent glands.”

Pidge lets loose a sob in response, pressing her head to his knee and Shiro draws in a sharp breath. The Alpha continues to treat the wound on his shoulder, finishes with the magic spray and gently presses his fingers to Lance’s chin to make him turn to face him again.

“Lance--” his voice wavers, catching in his throat, “He got-he got your eye.”

He knows. He’d felt it. He nods. He doesn’t know what the damage is, he’s not sure he really wants to know.

“It’s going to hurt, but I need to assess the damage.” Shiro murmurs, brows drawing low under his helmet. Lance wants to see his whole face. He doesn’t want the helmet in the way. It’s an illogical desire. He whimpers and Shiro seems to get it. Ripping his helmet off quickly. “I’ll be a quick as I can.”

Lance nods his assent and hisses as gentle fingers probe at his face. He thinks that maybe there’s another cut on the opposite side of his face, but it’s obviously not as bad as whatever is happening to his eye.

Shiro lets out a sigh of what might be relief. “I don’t think it’s deep. Most of the damage is to your skin.”

Lance realises what was wrong as he’d looked around the cockpit, what might have caused his aim to be off. Where Shiro’s face hovering over him as he evaluates the injury should be in sharp focus, it’s… fuzzy, dimmed.

Suddenly panicked, he pulls his bitten arm up to grasp at Shiro’s arm. Blood streams down over his own elbow.

“My vision--” He chokes.

“It’s okay,” Shiro tries, but his voice is tremulous. He pushes Lance’s hair back from his sweaty forehead, “It’ll be alright.” He promises.

“But--”

“Shiro, we have to stop the bleeding on his arm.” Pidge interrupts, and Lance realises he’s feeling a bit lightheaded. He’d put it down to his fight with the Warden, but peering down at the floor, he recognises that it could be blood loss.

A memory surfaces from the back of his mind. An Alpha’s bite, in the in case of a claiming mark, produces an anticoagulant to ensure the bite will scar.

“I don’t feel great.” He admits, eyes still on the floor, the dark blood against the grey of the cockpit.

Shiro works faster with his eye, rummages around in the Med-Kit for the eye-flush. He uses it, holding Lance’s face still with strong fingers on his chin as he wriggles in an attempt to get away from the pain. He knows he’s whimpering loudly when he hears Pidge sob again. If he could open his other eye, he might be able to see the expression on Shiro’s face as well, but as it is, he keeps it clenched shut.

It's over quickly. Shiro puts a square of gauze over his eye, secures it with some tape and spritzes around it with the magic spray again to close the peripheral wounds. Lance’s relief is short lived as the Alpha moves away to focus on his arm. He doesn’t want to look at it again, doesn’t want to see the ruined skin there so he stares resolutely at the ceiling.

Something niggles in the back of his mind. “Where’s Slav?” He asks.

“In the back.” Shiro answers, distractedly. “I didn’t want him here while…” He trails off and Lance can tell from his tone how bad he must look.

“I’m okay.” He whispers, trying to convince himself as much as the others.

Shiro doesn’t answer him and he winces as he and Pidge continue to cleanse the bite mark. Winces again at the pain in his head.

“I hit my head.” He offers, “When I head-butted him, my helmet came off and I hit it on the floor.”

“Pidge.” Shiro urges, and she comes around to tilt his head gently forward. She sucks in a breath and gently parts his hair. It feels like it’s bled, but the bleeding has stopped and matted his hair together. He whines at the scent of her distress and smiles when she tries to school it into something comforting.

“Not too bad.” She confirms. “It’ll get it cleaned and bandaged.”

They all just breathe for a few moments. Lance becomes aware of the way Pidge’s breath is hitching in her throat and how Shiro is practicing the same breathing exercises he does when something triggers his PTSD.

Pidge’s hands are incredibly gentle as she wraps his head carefully. She ensures to cover some of the gauze over his eye and he thinks again that the damage to his face must not be too severe. 

He hisses and tries to draw his arm away from Shiro’s grasp as he digs a little too hard into the bite, but Shiro holds his wrist firmly. “I know it hurts,” he murmurs, “but we have to make sure it’s clean before we close it.”

The black paladin grabs what passes for saline from the Med-Kit and Lance cries out, shuddering at the sensation of the feeling of it flushing the wounds. The way it pulls and pushes at his injured flesh makes him feel sick and suddenly he’s gagging.

“Pidge!” Shiro barks.

She’s there, with a bucket she’s pulled from somewhere and pushing his hair off his face as he empties his stomach. She wipes at his mouth with the back of her arm and it’s then that he realises she’s stripped off her armour and is standing in her under-suit without her helmet.

“Sorry.” He murmurs.

“Don’t.” She whispers at him, harshly. “Please, don’t.”

He takes a good look at her, his vision confused from having one eye covered. She’s trembling from head to foot and she’s got tears running down her face. He wants to pull her into a hug. He settles for offering her a smile. He, along with everyone else, knows that anytime they infiltrate a base, she’ll take the opportunity to look for her family. Despite everything that was happening, he doubts this time was any different.

“Did you find them?” He asks, quietly and she looks up in surprise.

“That’s what you’re worried about? Lance--”

“Distract me.” He begs, wincing as the disinfectant spray is used, “Did you find them?”

Her lip trembles and she starts to cry in earnest, “Yeah.” She sobs, resting a gentle hand on his forehead. Her hand his hot even through her gloves. True heat. “Someone broke Matt out. Rebel fighters, I think.” She looks pleased, despite the distress of what’s happened on the mission.

“Good.” He sighs as his wounds finally close with the help of the healing spray. He flexes his fingers, grimaces at the pull of the freshly scarred tissue on his arm.

“I should have called off the mission.” Shiro says, suddenly, “I should have pulled us out of there when—b-before--” His voice breaks.

“Hey.” Lance says, “We did it, okay? We got Slav.”

“But--”

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” Lance assures. He doesn’t think about what’ll happen when they get back to the ship. How he’ll be thrown into a heat that might turn out to be dry.

“Lance, I--”

“Stop, okay? Just stop.” He sighs, tired. He looks deep into Shiro’s eyes, to his horror, sees tears dancing there. “I’m okay. Let’s just get me patched up and get back to the castle.”

Shiro takes a steadying breath, “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Lance nods. Time to set his arm. Pidge takes a hold of his shoulder and Shiro feels up his arm for the break.

“I think it’s just your forearm.” He murmurs, concentration on his face as he presses into the muscles at the top of his arm. Lance agrees. The top of his arm feels alright, if a little numb, but his forearm is starting to feel very, very sore. He knows it’s a not quite a compound fracture, but it’s a close thing, he can see how the bones are pressing against his skin from the inside. Looking at it, he thinks both bones are shot to hell. He’s kind of impressed with himself that he’d been able to wield his bayard at all.

“I’m going to set it.” Shiro warns. Lance knows that Shiro has more experience than any of them at battlefield first-aid, but he can’t help the way his anxiety colours his scent. Shiro offers him a sad smile. “Ready?”

He nods and squeezes his eyes shut. He wouldn’t have been able to stop the noise that escapes him as his bones grind together when Shiro pulls them back into place if he’d tried.

“Splint.” Shiro grunts, and Pidge straps it to his arm, tightly, while Shiro keeps traction. Together, his pack-mates wrap his arm carefully in bandages, further stabilising it. Shiro gently leans him far enough away from the back of his chair for Pidge to secure a sling and then allows him to settle back.

“All done.” Shiro whispers, and Lance nods, tears streaming. “You did so well.”

Lance lets out a watery laugh. He doesn’t think so. If he had been faster, been better, he wouldn’t have been injured in the first place. He’s thankful, though. That it was him and not Pidge.

As the others start radioing in to the castle, he carefully catalogues what has happened to him. That was close, too close. He pushes it to the side. Continue with the mission. Once it’s over, once Zarkon is defeated, they can go home and he can examine it then.

Slav appears on his right as Pidge and Shiro are discussing getting a wormhole opened.

“You didn’t say we’d be travelling by teleduv!” He yells, and then something happens to Shiro. Lance has never seen him snap like this.

It’s enough to set him laughing, even after everything. He knows there’s an edge of hysteria to it, but he can’t help it. Maybe it’s the stress of everything that causes Shiro to snap, but it seems more likely from the rant he has, that it’s got everything to do with Slav.

“Paladins! Are you there?”

Allura’s voice comes over the comms and Lance is still laughing as he says, “Hey, princess, what’s up?”

Chapter Text

Of course nothing is simple. Of course he wasn’t going to be afforded any down time. He knew that, but as they fought the robeast, his injuries complained. Horribly.

He’s thankful that they opt for the sword. He doesn’t think he’d be able to wield his bayard well enough right now. He’d manage and he knows that Blue would help, but he’s not sure how effective he would be. As it is, she had done most of the heavy lifting for him.

To further compound his discomfort, he can feel his heat ramping up and recognises the symptoms of a dry heat. It’s not a surprise, he knows extreme stress can bring them on, he only hopes that Pidge’s first won’t be dry. Nothing like a dry heat to make you never want one again.

The cramps roiling in his belly make him groan as he finally brings Blue back in. She rumbles sympathetically in his mind, and he smiles. “I’ll be okay, girl.” He promises, not sure if he really believes it himself.

Slowly, trying not to jostle himself too harshly, he moves to leave the cockpit. He knows they’ll be waiting for him on the bridge. He feels a stab of panic at having to face them all when he’s feeling so vulnerable. He knows that more than anything he doesn’t want to face Allura, to see the disappointment in her eyes.

He knows she thinks he’s just some stupid kid, but he wonders if it’s more than that. If he maybe doesn’t measure up to her standard of what a paladin should be. He knows that he jokes around and acts the goofball, but he does it to try and break the tension he knows they all must be feeling. They have a hell of a lot of responsibility on their shoulders just now. A lot of people depending on them to be the heroes of legend – and they are – but deep down he knows they’re all scared witless. Even Shiro. Maybe even especially Shiro.

He sighs, pressing a grateful hand to Blue’s paw after she’s let him down. “Thanks girl.”

His eye catches on the bandaging on his left arm. He’ll be forever marked by the Warden’s bite. If they’d been closer to the castleship, he wonders if perhaps the Med-Pods might have healed him completely. He shakes the thought aside, knowing that even the Pods don’t work miracles. The scarring on his back courtesy of the bomb attests to that.

The bite had gone deep. It’s a wonder that he can still move his fingers. He shudders to think what would have happened if he had allowed the Alpha near the glands on his neck. The size of his jaw… Lance thinks he might have had this throat ripped out.

He makes his way to the lift and presses the button for the floor of the bridge. Sighing he lets himself just lean on the wall. His broken arm is bothering him, the adrenaline of his fight with the Warden and the battle with the robeast finally ebbing away. He knows he’ll have to jump in a Pod to get it fixed before they fight Zarkon. Probably won’t do his eye any harm either. He’s grateful that the ship’s walls are of a matte finish. If not, he’d be staring at the damage dealt to his person.

And he’s not ready to, just yet.

He’s also grateful that he didn’t have the option to check the wound to his eye himself. He’s always loved his eyes. The same blue of the ocean in Cuba. He’d hate to see that the injury to his left has resulted in any permanent damage to its colour, let alone his sight!

When the doors open, he tries to stroll out of the lift causally. He should have known it was pointless. As soon as Hunk’s eyes turn to him, the colour drains out of the Beta’s face and he’s running to Lance’s side.

“Oh my God!” He cries, “Oh my God. What the fu--”

“Hunk, I’m okay, buddy.” He tries for calm, he really does, but he can feel the way his smile cracks. Hunk’s hands wave around him, like he’s scared to touch him and cause him pain. It’s not an unfair concern. The Beta eventually settles a hand between his shoulder blades and  guides him to the group standing in front of Allura.

He wants to curl in on himself, wants to make himself small. But he doesn’t, he comes to stand with them, legs shaking with the effort, and stands tall. He stares past Allura’s shoulder. She has her back to them and she’s watching the screens intently.

“Allura, have you heard from Coran?” Keith asks, and his voice shakes a little. Lance thinks he must really look a mess if it’s making Keith nervous.

“Yes.” She responds, shortly. Lance sees Shiro put a hand to the base of Keith’s spine in support.

Lance opens his mouth, desperate to cut the tension and get all of this over with. He aches. “So, we ready to pop through the wormhole and get back to Olkarion?”

She turns, “Yes,” her voice cheery, perhaps our friendship is not entirely dust, “I’ve checked in with—Lance.” She stares at him in horror. He gives her a salute. “What happened?” Allura demands, turning to glare at Shiro and Pidge.

“We ran into a problem.” Shiro reports, spine going straight at Allura’s attention. “Both Lance and Pidge are in heat.” He throws them both and apologetic look, but they wave him off. No point hiding it. “We didn’t realise until we were almost at Beta Traz. We decided as a group to continue the mission, but as we were--” his breath stutters in his chest and Lance thinks he sees his masked expression slip, just a little, before he refocuses, “as we extracted Slav, Lance was cornered by the Warden at the facility.” Lance gives an involuntary shiver, remembering the feeling of huge, clawed hands on his body. Hunk rubs a gentle circle on his back.

Allura brings her gaze back to Lance. She eyes him carefully, like she’s trying to decide how to word an insult without causing the others to become aggressive towards her. Lance narrows his eyes at her, stands taller still despite the pain beginning to course through him in earnest.

She surprises him when she asks, “Are you ok?” in such a tender tone, that he’s not sure he’s really even heard her correctly.

He shrugs. It’s the best he can manage, he thinks, without coming apart. Although the Alpha hadn’t managed to… something had been taken from him today, regardless. An innocence.

Keith drops a gentle hand on his shoulder and Lance nearly leaps out of his skin. He lets lose a whine from low in his throat, unbidden. It’s a noise of fear. He realises that Shiro is the one to softly pull his mate’s hand away. He can scent the pack’s confusion at his reaction to Keith, but he doesn’t have the energy to address it.

Allura’s stare hardens, but she doesn’t look angry at any one of them. “Hunk, can you take Lance to the Med-Bay? Put him in a Pod and keep an eye.” She give Lance a vaguely apologetic look. She knows how much they all hate the Pods. “Keith.” He startles to attention out of reflex, and normally Lance would laugh at him, but he’s starting to feel all kinds of tired. “I would like to talk to you. Alone.” She adds pointedly.

Lance feels his heart lurch at the flash of fear on the red paladin’s face. Just as quickly, Keith tamps down on it and a blank mask slip over his expression.

Shiro surprises everyone when he presses a soft, loving kiss into Keith’s hairline. He gives Allura a careful glance, but there’s no rebuke on her face, only a quiet consideration. Pidge goes and gives Keith’s wrist a firm squeeze and Lance sees his stoic expression crack a little at the comfort the pack offers him. Shiro turns, pressing a large hand to Pidge’s spine to encourage her to move. They make their way off the bridge without another glance back.

Lance stands deliberating for a moment. He walks to Keith, standing between him and Allura with his back to the princess. “Not you.” He assures him, referring to his instinctual response before. Keith watches him carefully before giving him a gentle smile, nodding. Understanding. “You gonna be alright?” Lance asks, flicking his eyes over in the direction of Allura. The Alpha gives him a determined nod.

Lance nods back, and reaches his left hand out to squeeze at Keith’s shoulder. Keith’s gaze drops to the bandaging on his arm and his brows draw together, but Lance doesn’t address it and nor does Keith.

Hunk claps Keith on the back then says, “Come on, Lance. Let’s get you to a Pod.”

With a sigh, the Omega follows Hunk out of the door. He casts a final look back at the two on the bridge, but Allura is speaking too quietly for him to hear.

Chapter Text

The moment the Pod hisses open and he drops out into Shiro’s arms, he knows something in the energy of the ship has changed.

He blinks his eyes, blearily. “I’ve got you, Sharpshooter.” Shiro murmurs, guiding him to the group seemingly camped out in the Med-Bay. Hunk and Keith are asleep on the sofa that seems to have been dragged in from somewhere in the castle. An honest to God sofa, where the hell has this thing been?

“Where’s Pidge?” He asks, voice rough from disuse. “How long was I out?”

“Only a few varga,” Shiro assures him, his own voice pitched low to keep from waking the others, “around four. Pidge has gone into heat, Allura is with her now. She’s been asking for you, but I didn’t know how…” he lets the sentence drop, uncomfortable.

He sits Lance down next to Hunk, and throws a blanket over him. Shiro observes him, quietly, a question in his eyes. “What?” Lance prompts.

“You, uh, you smell different.”

Lance sighs, resting his head against Hunks arm over the back of the chair. They both know that his scent glands weren’t damaged in the attack. He swallows, “Dry heat.” He explains and Shiro makes a noise of sympathy.

Hunk shifts and opens his eyes. He turns his face and his eyes open widely to take Lance in.

“Hey, buddy.” The Omega whispers.

Hunk’s eyes fill with tears and he gathers his friend into a hug which is almost crushing. A part of Lance feels restless at being pinned, but he relaxes into it. He knows Hunk will not hurt him.

“Lance.” He whispers back. It’s not a surprise he’s shaken up. He’d helps Lance out of his bindings and into the Med-Suit. He’d seen the damage. He wonders if maybe Shiro had explained how bad it was. He glances up at the Alpha and recognises a vaguely haunted look on his face, and thinks maybe he did tell them to get it off his chest.

“How’s my eye?” He asks, rather than broach the idea of how vulnerable it makes him feel that Shiro (and Pidge) have probably had to tell everyone what happened on Beta Traz.

He realises now he can see clearly out of both eyes.

Shiro puffs out a breath. “You were lucky.” Hunk scoffs and leans back. “There’s no lasting damage to your eye itself,” the Alpha says carefully, “but where we used the spray to close the wounds around it, there’s some scarring.”

Shiro regards him, waiting for his reaction. They all know how Lance prides himself on his skin. He works hard at it, buying creams and lotions and potions at every outpost or settlement that has them. He blames his sisters.

They’re expecting this to be a crushing blow. Instead he feels something akin to relief.

“At least I can still shoot.” He says. Sure. He’s upset that his face is probably ruined. He’s sure it won’t make it any easier to win at love, then again, battle-scars are hot, but he knows down to his bones that if he lost his vision, he would be devastated.

Shiro gives him a sad smile, but the slight mirth there reaches his eyes.

The Omega decides to check the full scope of the damage caused by his injuries in his own quarters. No need to break down in front of everyone. And there’s definitely gonna be a breakdown.

He turns slightly to take in the way Keith is curled in on himself in his seat. He’s like a cat, Lance thinks, gleeful. Keith has yet to make any signs of waking.

“Isn’t he a light sleeper?” Lance asks, curious.

“I don’t think he’s fully recovered from the Blade trials.” Shiro admits. His gaze has shifted to Keith and he has the softest smile on his face. Sappy and full of love. Lance grins at him. Shiro obviously catches it out of the corner of his eye and rather than blushing as he had before when Lance had called him out, he smirks. Lance feels like he’s missed some things while in the Pod.

“Oh, yeah.” Hunk mutters, good naturedly, “that’s in the open now. They were all over each other when Keith came back from his chat with Allura.”

Keith grumbles in his sleep and his nose scrunches up.

Shiro’s eye is drawn back to his mate, “If we were ‘all over each other’ you’d be scarred for life, Hunk.” He replies.

It’s so out of character that Lance laughs, loudly, finally waking Keith. He startles and tenses like he’s ready for a fight, then swings his face around to look at Lance.

“You’re awake.” He says.

“Master of the Obvious there, Samurai.” Lance responds, but there’s no heat in the mild jab.

Keith’s gaze travels over his face, brows drawn low and mouth in a tight line. He catalogues every scar on Lance’s once flawless face, but the Omega only sees concern, not judgement. He shivers a little under the scrutiny. The Alpha’s eyes drop to his arm, but he can’t see anything under the Med-Suit and his brow creases further in consternation, before he brings his gaze back up to Lance’s face.

“You okay?” He asks, and it’s rough and filled with an emotion Lance is hesitant to put a name to.

“Yes.” He answers, too quickly. He feels tension flood the room and lifts a hand to rub at the back of his head, feels the little knot of scar tissue there from the fight, “No. I will be.”

Keith watches him a moment longer before nodding, grimly. There’s understanding in his eyes and Lance wonders at it for a moment, before deciding he’s still too tired to open that box.

“Can I touch you?” Keith asks, suddenly and Hunk and Shiro tense.

Lance considers. He knows that none of his team-mates would hurt him intentionally. Not even Keith. Sure, they both get a little over-competitive during sparring sessions, but that’s just them. Keith and Lance, neck and neck. And sure, Keith beats him all the time, but he’s not aggressive, has never used his biology against him since the suppressants wore off.

He nods, just slightly, but it’s enough for Keith to raise his hand, signposting the whole damn time, and gently, oh, so gently, run his hand through the hair from Lance’s temple to the back of his head. His fingers are slender, but his hand is relatively large, Lance realises. The leather of his glove is warm from his skin, and saturated in his Alpha scent from the glands on his wrists. Lance leans into the touch a little, looking at Keith, he can see the worry in his violet eyes, the questions simmering in the back of his mind about the mission. Maybe Shiro didn’t tell them everything.

Lance allows his eyes to slip close as Keith’s fingers wind gently into his hair.

“Soft.” He murmurs and Shiro, Hunk and Lance all let loose a chuckle. Lance opens his eyes again, regarding Keith as he flushes bright pink, but he doesn’t remove his hand.

“It should be for all the damn stuff I use on it.” He concedes, smile still playing at the corner of his mouth.

Suddenly he realises that this… this petting is such an intimate display of… of what? Affection? Possession? He doesn’t know, but it’s intimate, and in front of Shiro and Hunk. Blushing furiously, he tries to casually disengage from Keith. Keith lets him go, but remains close to his side, like he’s afraid Lance will move away completely.

Lance glances up at Shiro, expecting to see rebuke there. Instead, Shiro is wearing that same tender expression, but… but it’s directed at him and he doesn’t know what to do with it.

Hunk clears his throat and Lance nearly gives himself whiplash turning to look at him. The Beta gives him an encouraging smile. Lance raises an eyebrow at him. It’s all so confusing and… and too much right now.

A cramp rolls in his belly and he groans, leaning forward a little. Shiro reaches out to him, but Hunk gives him a look and he backs up again. He can feel Keith’s hand fluttering over his back, like he wants to offer comfort, but doesn’t know how or if his attempts would be welcome.

Hunk stands and gently drags Lance up from his seat on the sofa, “Come on, buddy. Let’s get you to your room.”

Lance grumbles at being mildly manhandled, but allows Hunk to guide him out of the Med-Bay without any other fuss.

He knows from experience that it doesn’t take long to get to his quarters, but with his heat taking over his body, it feels like it takes an age.

He’s starting to feel shivery, knows it’s a symptom of a dry-heat. He thinks he should probably check in on Pidge as she’d asked for him. He mentions this to Hunk, but he just brushes Lance off.

“Don’t worry, man. I’ll pop over and let her know you’re awake.”

Any other time, Lance might have made some inappropriate remark, but right now all he can feel is how his body’s temperature is rising under the Med-Suit and the cramping seeping into the muscles of his legs and back.

“This feels like it’s come on quick.” Hunk murmurs as he turns Lance enough to get his hand on the door panel. Lance briefly wonders why Hunk didn’t just open it himself, and the query must have shown on his face because he says, “Pidge has programmed both your rooms to only allow yourselves access. She said she can reverse it after, but thought you’d like to know you’re safe here.”

Touched, Lance nods and agrees with her assessment.

“I was in heat on the mission,” Lance answers as they head into his room, “I think the pod may have slowed it for a few, but it was never gonna stop it in its tracks. I can’t work out if it’s worse for it or not. I can’t remember the last time I had a dry heat and--” He stops short as he takes in his room.

Hunk looks from Lance to the room around them and smiles, “Oh, uh, yeah. Shiro and Keith.” He says, by way of explanation.

In the centre of his room, on the floor, is a nest. It’s unlike any nest he would have made for himself and yet, it’s better. More comforting. It’s spacious in a way he’s never bothered with unless making a pack-nest. Shiro and Keith have sourced the softest blankets they could find, all in shades of blue.

Lance moves closer. He kneels down and runs a hand reverently over the outer part of the nest.

“Why?” He asks, quietly, chin trembling.

Hunk shrugs in the doorway, “They care. When you got back,” he takes a deeps breath, huffs it out, “you looked really…” his eyes shine, and if it weren’t for the fact that another cramp has seized him, Lance would have gone to comfort him, “we were all really shaken, Lance. But Shiro and Keith, wow.” He grins, “I’ve never seen them like it. Restless and panicked. When you went in the pod, while Pidge was reprogramming the doors, they came here to do this for you. I guess they figured you’d be too wrung out to do it yourself, and they needed to do something.”

Lance takes this in with wide-eyes.

Huh.

Chapter Text

When Lance wakes, he’s curled in on himself, shivery and weak. The cramps haven’t yet abated and he moans as he unfurls. Sitting, he realises he hasn’t removed the Med-Suit. After Hunk had left, promising to let Pidge know he was out of the Pod, Lance had just crawled into the nest to sleep.

He glances at the chronometer on the wall. He’s still not used to the Altean numerals, but he thinks it’s around four in the morning? Sighing, he stands, stretches, curses when his stomach spasms again, coupled this time with the emptiness of hunger.

I supposes that he’s not actually eaten anything since what would be the previous day now.

Shower, he decides.

The showers in the castle are fantastic. On a couple of the planets they’ve been lucky enough to stay on without getting shot at, they’ve had what he can only term as sound showers. They work on a type of noise frequency. Pidge has explained that they basically vibrate the grime off. However, nothing beats hot water and soap.

In each of their rooms they have an en-suite, and Lance’s is probably the most well-loved. He keeps his face creams and treatments in there, alongside all manner of body washes, scrubs, shampoos and conditioners. He’d even found a few face masks at the Space Mall which he has jealously squirreled away.

He turns the shower on and waits for the mirror to mist over before stripping out of the Med-Suit, still not ready to see what the others have already. He steps in and closes his eyes as he turns his face into the spray. Its hot, almost scalding. He’s always enjoyed the water hot enough to boil a lobster.

Turning, he grabs a bottle of shampoo from the built in alcove. This one, he was told by Allura, has a scent similar to Altean Juniberries, and it has a beautiful lather. He’s found that this one is particularly great when he’s feeling generally crap. The scent is relaxing in a way he would associate with lemon balm and lavender. He works it into his hair quickly and rinses.

He grabs another bottle, a body wash that smells a bit like peaches but with a citrussy undertone that he loves.  Lathering it between his hands, he rubs the suds over himself. He keeps his eyes closed and avoids his entrance, knowing that he would only end up in pain while the dry heat runs through his system.

Since the mission, since the Alpha’s Command to submit, he’s not had even the slightest desire to… mate, for lack of a better term, and that was a forced desire. He shudders, pushes the memory aside.

He rinses, imagining the feeling of those momentary flashes of complete helplessness swirling away down the drain.

He grabs his conditioner and runs it through his hair, relishing the feel of it. He smiles remembering Keith’s quiet utterance. Damn right his hair is soft. After rinsing, he allows himself the indulgence of just standing under the spray not thinking of anything. He stands there until his feet start to ache and his lower back twinges.

He shuts off the shower and reaches for his towels. Wrapping one around himself and the other around his hair, he moves to the mirror. He stares down at the sink, hands gripping tightly to it’s edge. Lance takes a deep breath, exhales it slowly.

Best get it over with.                                                                                                        

He raises one trembling hand and swipes it through the condensation on the glass.

The face staring back at him is new. There are little scratchy marks around his left eye which have healed into silvery scars. If he didn’t know what had caused them, he could be convinced that they’d been caused by shards of glass He tilts his head a little and leans towards the mirror. It’s not… terrible, but it is upsetting. It’s not even about vanity. It’s the fact that the first Alpha to mark him has done so without his consent and that’s a tough pill for Lance to swallow.

He’d always had these fantasies about how his first marking from an Alpha would go. Loving and with express consent and with care. He’d sort of known, coming into space that it was a bit of a pipe-dream – at the very least he was semi-expectant of coming across other planets with secondary genders is a very vague way. He’d known, going on that mission, that there was a possibility this was going to happen, but he’s bitter that it did. He thinks he’ll be angry about it for a while, but it’s not like he can blame anyone for it but himself.

He’d urged Shiro to allow them to continue the mission.

Staring at the scars isn’t going to make them go away. He sighs and pulls a cleanser towards him. As he’s rubbing what passes for a cleansing balm out here into his skin, he grabs a hot towel out of a compartment in the wall. Sometimes he really loves Altean technology. He has no idea where they come from or why, but he smiles as he remembers his first exclamation at their discovery. He pats it over his face and then swipes the product away, continuing with his routine.

Despite the cramping not letting up and the stress of the past twenty-four hours, this routine allows him a sense of normalcy.

Once his face is done, he takes another breath. And the rest.

First, he wipes at the mirror a little more so that he can take in the wound to his shoulder. It’s… big. It sweeps from the joint of his neck and shoulder almost to his sternum. Looking at it now, he can see why it was the first thing Shiro focussed on. He wonders if perhaps it was bleeding particularly badly. He looks at the damage to his chest. The scarring is clean and some part of Lance’s mind if thankful for Shiro’s quick treatment as he imagines his flesh was particularly torn but the Galra’s claws. He thinks he’s probably lucky that he didn’t lose a nipple. Overall, it’s not awful to look at as long as he doesn’t think too hard on why it’s there.

He raises his right arm. Nothing to see there. Lance knows he’s stalling.

He raises his left. The scaring is prominent, raised. As he looks at the individual teeth marks, bile floods his mouth and he spins to drop in front of the toilet. He vomits, but there’s nothing in his stomach to bring up. The bile burns his throat and tongue.

Shuddering, he glances at his arm as it rests on the toilet seat. This… this one is horrible to look at. It’s clear the damage had been severe when they were looking at it in the cockpit, but it’s somehow worse knowing this is probably as good as it is ever going to look.

There are teeth marks wrapped around the top and bottom of his arm and he can see, even scarred over, where the flesh had torn in the fight. This will always be a reminder of the innocence that was taken from him.

He rests his head on the toilet seat and lets himself cry.

Chapter Text

When Keith wakes, he stretches his arm out with a groan expecting to find Shiro’s wide back. When his hand makes contact with cool sheets, he blinks his eyes open blearily.

The night cycle is still running. It’s one of his least favourite things in the castle, the way it switches from night to day. At the shack, he’d been used to the gentle rising of the sun, here, it’s literally like a switch. On or off. No easing into it.

Sighing, he sits up. He’d known it was going to be a bad night for Shiro. He’s the only one who hadn’t slept the entire time Lance was in the Pod. He’d paced like an animal until he and Hunk had dropped off, exhausted. I should have kept watch, he thinks, sourly.

Everything that had happened to Lance on that mission will have brought Shiro’s time as a Champion to the fore.

He doesn’t talk about it often, and it’s always in the dark when they’re curled up around each other and spent.

“There was an Omega… I tried… they…”

Keith shakes his head, clearing it as he swings his legs over the bed to find his underwear. Lance is fine. Well… not fine, but alive and largely whole. He grabs Shiro’s shirt off the floor and slides it on. It hangs to just below the tops of his thighs. Keith holds the collar of his to his nose, grinning at the way the older man’s scent floods him.

He sighs and makes his way to the usual haunts. Training rooms first.

His mind wanders to how Lance had looked stepping out of the elevator and onto the bridge. Lance has always been the type to brush off his wounds. Keith recognises it as a coping mechanism, but after the bomb incident, Keith had given up on trying to  draw any reaction out of Lance other than annoyance. Maybe that was a poor choice.

As he’d stepped off that elevator, Keith could see something had shifted fundamentally in Lance. He was… dulled. Even the smiles he had thrown out had been dimmed, not reaching his eyes and looking more like grimaces. Keith knows it could have been the pain, knows what it does to a person, but it seemed different. His scent was off. Not the bruised petal scent of the first few days after the suppressants had worn off. Not the warm apple and cinnamon he’d grown used to over the past few weeks, nor the powdered sugar scent of Lance’s happiness, but burnt caramel. Sweet and cloying and harsh. While it’s not a bad scent, it is a significant change. That’s to say nothing of the horror that had shivered itself down Keith’s body at the bandages wrapping his frame.

All he had wanted to do was gather Lance into his arms and tell him it would be okay. It was all he could do not to. Shiro holding him firm had stopped him, but the urge hadn’t left.

He supposes it has to do with his own experience.

Not in the training room. Kitchen next.

He knows he has a bad habit of projecting. Lance is much older than he had been. He bears the physical scars of it too, though. A tremor runs down his spine at remembered fear, remembered pain. Now’s not the time.

He keeps his mind carefully blank the rest of the walk to the kitchen. He’s grateful to find Shiro there.

Shiro is sitting at the island, hand wrapped around a mug as he stares off into nothingness. He’s only in his sweats, but the ambient temperature of the castle is kept at around twenty-three degrees Celsius, so the red paladin frowns at the gooseflesh across his mate’s nape. Keith bites his lip, recognising the look. He deliberately brushes his knuckles against the doorframe as he enters and makes his footfalls heavier before he clears his throat.

Shiro starts, but doesn’t swing around in a panic as he has done so many times when Keith has forgotten the little steps.

“Hey, Keith.” He greets, and his voice is monotone.

Keith brings himself close enough to drape gently over his back and wrap his arms around the pack-Alpha’s shoulders. “Hey, Takashi.” Shiro leans back into him ever so slightly, but he remains tense. Keith brings one of his hands up around his front to curl over his shoulder, he presses a kiss to the skin there. “You did everything you could have.” He offers, quietly.

Shiro lets out a shuddering breath. When he inhales to speak, it hitches, “I wasn’t fast enough.” He murmurs, “He, oh God, what if he’d--”

Keith gives him a firm squeeze, “He didn’t.” He counters, just as softly, “He’s strong, Takashi.”

His mate hangs his head, a vulnerable position for an Alpha, but Keith takes the offering with pride. He lets his mouth ghost over the Bonding mark, pressing tender kisses into the skin and scar, before he takes it between his teeth.

This is not an unusual thing between them, Shiro’s need to submit to him is as beautiful as it is heartbreaking. Although it’s not something that happens often, it occurs most consistently after a particularly bad loss or hard won victory. Sometimes he needs Keith to take up the reins for a bit.

Once the mark is bruised and Shiro’s shoulders have dropped most of their tension, Keith pulls his mouth away to whisper furiously into his ear, “No-one blames you. You did everything you could and you did everything right. The one to blame is the Galra who hurt him. Not you.” He echoes Lances words to him back to his mate. Shiro shudders in his embrace. “He’s so strong, Takashi. He’ll make it through.”

Shiro pulls at his hands enough to spin the seat around and settle his own arms around Keith’s midsection. He presses his forehead to Keiths chest and breathes. Keith slides his hands up Shiro’s back until he slides his fingers into his hair. He folds himself over him a little, his heart breaking as he hears Shiro finally let go.

His tears are hot on Keith’s skin and he shushes him gently. His shoulders heave with the sobs wracking his body and Keith tightens his hold.

It’s nights like this that he really hates the Galra. Shiro was nearly gone before they ever became this and the scars he bears threaten to shake him apart every day.

He allows one of his hands to sweep soothingly over Shiro’s wide back, waiting for the tears to slow a little. He presses soft kisses into his mate’s hair, inhaling his scent.

A soft sound at the door makes Keith swing his eyes up, a protective growl building in his chest as Shiro tenses and whines, pushing closer.

It dies quickly as he takes in the sight of Lance standing in the doorway, looking unsure and anxious.

He’s dressed in his blue dressing gown and slippers and he looks all kinds of vulnerable. He remains in the doorway, eyes averted from where Shiro is curled into Keith’s chest. Keith recognises it as a sign of submission and his chest feels like it will implode. Lance has never done anything other than look at either one of them in the eye, even when he knows it could be misconstrued, be taken as a challenge.

He regards Lance closely. He’s fiddling with his fingers in a way that makes it clear he’s nervous, but his face, oh, his face is blotched pink from tears. Perhaps it’s not submission, Keith thinks, perhaps it’s embarrassment. His nose is prettily flushed at it’s tip and his eyes are red-rimmed. He just stands there, so vulnerable that it makes Keith ache.

He doesn’t think too hard about what he does next. If anyone were to ask, he would say his body moved of its own accord.

One arm still wrapped firmly around his mate, he reaches out his other hand, palm up, for Lance. He doesn’t draw the Omega’s attention to it, just lets his hand hang as an offering. He focusses on emitting calming pheromones and allows Lance to come to him should he so wish. He tells himself he won’t be upset if he decides to return to his room instead, yet he knows himself well enough to acknowledge that even that fair rejection will sting.

Lance glances up to meet his eyes with his own and takes a hesitant step forward into the galley. The Omega’s gaze slips down to where Shiro is still against his chest. Keith can feel that his mate’s breathing has evened a little, despite the tremors still running down his frame. Lance’s uncertainty becomes more pronounced in the way his brow creases, and Keith can see the way he sweeps his own discomfort aside.

Suddenly, the room is flooded with Lance’s own calming pheromones and Shiro’s frame ceases it’s shivering, while Keith’s shoulders droop and his hand drops without leave of his brain. It feels like knock of peace between Keith’s eyes, it’s so strong. Dazed, he takes Lance in again.

He’s shifted from that softly vulnerable stance to something more like his usual self. Hands pressed into his hips and feet planted solidly.

“How do you do that?” Keith asks, quietly. He has no idea what his face is doing. He thinks it’s smiling, but he’s not sure. He feels like he’s floating on the pheromones Lance is pumping their way. The way Shiro nuzzles into him tells him he’s feeling much the same way.

Lance shrugs and walks stiffly to where the two of them are huddled together, “Dunno, I just… I guess it’s always been something Papa would do.”

He eyes Keith and raises his hand over Shiro’s bare back. He quirks an eyebrow at Keith. It’s not suggestive, instead conveying Lance’s request for approval of his intent.

Keith thinks on it for a tick, whether this is something Shiro would welcome in this moment of defencelessness. Decides that if their roles were reversed, he would. He nods at Lance, glad at the way Shiro goes almost completely limp at the contact of Lance’s hand, rather than tense. Pride swells in his chest knowing he’s made the right decision.

Lance presses his hand firmly between Shiro’s broad shoulders. Shiro’s breath hitches in his throat. The Omega gives Keith a querying glance and Keith’s eyes prickle with unexpected tears. Here is Lance, with so much more going on right now, trying to comfort them through his own distress. The way he holds himself is tense, like he’s fighting off pain and the Alpha knows it’s his heat.

Shiro had briefly explained to him what the change in Lance’s scent had meant. Dry heat, he’d called it. From what Keith understands, the stress of the mission and the marking of an unaccepted Alpha will have kicked Lance’s heat past hyperdrive and into the cosmos. Keith let’s his eyes drop to run his gaze over Lance more fully.

He takes stock of the slight tremble in his hands and the shaking of his knees, like they’re just barely keeping him standing.

Abruptly, Lance speaks, his voice low, “Thank you.”  Shiro and Keith make a querying noise in their throats. Lance almost smiles. “For the nest.” He shrugs, “For saving me.” He adds, pressing his hand harder into Shiro’s skin to make his point clear.

Shiro drags in a shuddering breath and raises his head a little. Keith catches his gaze for a millisecond, before his mate spins the seat around to face Lance. Lance, for his part, takes a startled step back. Shiro takes Lance’s hand in his and leans down to press his forehead to his skin.

“You saved yourself.” He whispers, emphatically. “If you hadn’t managed to get off that shot… If you hadn’t fought so damn hard--” he takes a deep, tremulous breath, “I’m so glad you’re still here.”

Lance raises his other hand and Keith can see, even in the dim light, the faintest hint of the scarring on his arm as the robe slips. He feels a sharp spike of rage curl in his chest. How dare he. How dare that Alpha try to take-- The Omega rests his hand on the back of Shiro’s head, emitting more comforting pheromones which calms Keith’s anger, and gently scritches his fingers into Shiro’s scalp.

Lance does smile then. “Me too.” He whispers.

Chapter Text

They remain in the kitchen until Hunk arrives, sleep rumpled and looking tired. By the time the Beta makes his appearance, the three of them are sitting around the island nursing mugs of almost-coffee and Lance has eaten three plates of goo. Keith had found a heating pad for his stomach – though they’re all pretty certain it’s some Altean cooking utensil – and Lance clutches it there, rocking his hips every few minutes as a cramp rolls through him.

“Oh!” Hunk exclaims, tiredly, “I wasn’t expecting anyone to be up.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” Keith offers, taking a sip of his drink and watching Lance over the rim of his mug. Lance shivers, and takes a swig of his own drink.

“What’s for breakfast?” The Omega asks, striving to get past the odd tension pulling at the air.

“Hmm? Oh, I asked Allura to pick up something that might be like bacon from Balmera, should be in the fridge. I could do pancakes.”

While Hunk goes about his usual daily kitchen tasks, prepping everything for breakfast, Lance reflects on the last couple of hours. Seeing Shiro so distraught on his behalf had been painful and… unexpected. He knew in a vague way that both Alpha’s had been worried for him, Hunk had told him as much to explain the nest in his room, but seeing the evidence himself was a shock to the system. He can’t help the little smile that plays at the corners of his mouth. Maybe I am important to the team.

He hides his face with his mug, cursing the way he can feel both Alphas’ eyes on him. He takes a deep breath as another cramp wracks through his frame, shifting his hips to get it to release. He doesn’t miss the way Shiro’s brow creases with concern.

“Should you be up and about?” Hunk suddenly asks, back to them as he works on frying the eggs and bacon.

Lance sighs, “It’s not like I’m in any danger here,” he pointedly ignores the way Shiro and Keith’s gazes sharpen, “and I was never one for staying in my nest during a dry heat. Too much energy to burn. I’m just waiting for the cramps to ease and then I’ll be right as rain.”

Hunk hums, a noise of neither agreement nor dispute. “As long as you’re sure.”

Lance half rolls his eyes at the mom-tone. It’s not like a really want to be alone right now, either, he thinks, but he won’t give that thought voice. It’s too… needy.

Lance looks down at the worktop and runs a finger in a circle there, pondering. Once the cramps ease off, he’s going to want to be running. It’s something that he’s always done on a dry heat.

A dry heat isn’t bad, per se, it’s just that he has a lot of energy and nowhere for it to go. Every Omega’s dry heat is different, just as every heat is different, but Lance’s dry heats generally mean that the cramps last longer, he suffers with periodic hypersensitivity – both physically and mentally, he eats a lot more and he has to find ways to burn of the restless energy under his skin.. They’re not as pleasant as his normal heats, but he puts that down to the fact that his body doesn’t turn into a livewire of sensation as it should.

He hadn’t been joking when he’s told Keith heats don’t get in the way of his normal routines. A normal heat for Lance would usually mean a better, softer scent and the downside of turning into a wanton mewling thing at the merest suggestion of a non-familial Alpha, but he would still go about his day in the safety of his own home. Cooking, cleaning, doing homework. He’s always been curious if that ability to keep a level head would change if he had an Alpha to attend him.

He sighs, blushing at the idea.

At home, he used to run the beach, always first thing and always with his brother Marco as protector. The benefit of the ship is that it’s all self-contained, though he kind of aches to feel sand between his toes. His feet twitch at the thought and he rubs one over the over in a self-comforting gesture.

He glances up at the doorway as Coran enters, “Ah! Number Three. I’m glad to see you are able to join us.”

“Hey, Coran.” He says, as Keith and Shiro raise a hand each in greeting.

“You were in the Pod when I came back to the castle, gave me quite a fright seeing you in there again.”

“Sorry, Coran. I will do my utmost to ensure I don’t put you through that again.”

“You had better, my boy.” He comes to the island and ruffles Lance’s hair in an affectionate manner. He sees the way the Alpha’s tense out of the corner of his eye, but he doesn’t address it.

“Oh,” Lance starts, turning more fully to face Coran, “are there any treadmills on board?” Shiro and Keith perk up with interest.

“Treadmills?”

“Oh, uhm.” His mind draws a blank on how to describe it. Another downside to a heat, poor communication skills.

“A moving running track.” Shiro supplies, gently and Lance throws him a grateful smile.

“Ah, yes!” Coran cries, “If you go to training room four, there’s a running simulator. I can get it all set up for you after breakfast?”

“That would be great, thank you, Coran. Though I might not use it for a day or so.”

And then he’s off. Going on about how he can’t believe they’ve not thought to add it to their training before and how it would be helpful to know their speed and stamina and better incorporate those into the rest of their training exercises, before he offers to help Hunk and gets beaten with a spatula.

Overall, it feels like home.

“Uhm, Hunk?”

“Hmm?”

“How’s Pidge doing?” Lance asks, worry in his tone.

“She’s fine, Lance. Taking to it like she does with everything else.” He places the food down in front of them all and plates a couple more helpings onto a tray, “When I checked in after taking you back to your room, Allura said she was making notes.”

Lance chuckles, shoulders shaking, and picks up his cutlery.

They eat in relative silence. Periodically starting little conversations about this or that. No-one mentions the mission, or the one Lance knows they’ll be undertaking far too soon. He feels the panic rise into his throat and squashes it down before it can affect his scent. It won’t happen again, he thinks furiously. The need to run is intense. He understands that his body needs to use up any excess energy he has, but it’s a particularly strong instinct this time around. He supposes that fighting his instinct to run in the moment is causing a flare up of it now.

He glances around the island, pleased to see that none of his pack-mates are paying him any mind. Hunk is busy talking to Coran about some thingymabob that he and Pidge had been tinkering with and Shiro and Keith are leaning closely into each other’s space, exchanging sweet, quiet words.

Lance can’t help but smile at them. It’s so obvious, the relief they feel at being able to do this around the team. And watching them makes Lance’s heart ache with a feeling a bit like grief. Either one of them would be a good choice as an Alpha. Not as an Alpha, he corrects himself, as a lover, as the person each of them are. It’s hard to watch them and think one day I’ll have that. One day I’ll be someone’s world the way they are for each other. Harder still to feel like it’ll never happen. That it’s not something meant for him.

Sighing, and plate finished, he stands. He loads his plate into the space-dishwasher, wincing as another cramp hits him while he’s bending and without the heat-pad. Straightening he turns to find both Alphas watching him keenly. He blushes a little at the scrutiny and waves them off, assuming they’re just attuned to him right now because he’s in heat, dry or no.

“Hey, Coran, I’m just gonna get my yoga gear, then I’ll meet you at training room four and you can show me how to set it up?”

“Ah, yes, of course. I’ll head down there now.” Coran agrees, jovial, “It won’t take any longer than couple of doboshes to set up.”

“Thank you, Coran.” He says from the doorway.

“Lance!” Hunk cries, rushing to him with the tray of food. He’s thrown a couple of juice packs on too. “Can you drop this off at Pidge’s room?”

Lance takes the tray, feeling another swell of trepidation at the prosect of seeing Allura, “Sure thing, buddy.”

He throws them all a sloppy salute and makes his way back towards the sleeping quarters. He walks with purpose, huffing a little every time his stomach seizes, and keeps his mind cautiously blank.

He pauses outside Pidge’s door before using the comm all of them have, but none of them really use.

“Pidge? Allura? Hunk made breakfast.”

There’s a momentary silence before Allura answers the door. It sweeps open and Lance is hit with Pidge’s heat scent, sweet and heady.

“Shut the door!” He barks, panicked.

“Lance.” Pidge whines, pleading.

He steps into the room and shuts the door himself. The room is still a mess, but he’s pleased to see most of the sharps have been allocated to a single corner of the room, well away from the nest on the bed.

He places the food on the table by the bed which is thankfully clear, and comes to sit on the very edge. He reaches into the nest, shocked when one of Pidge’s hands flies out to grasp his own. She raises his head to take him in.

“Hey, Pidge.” He says, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand.

“This… sucks.” She replies with a groan. She curls in on herself.

“Cramps?” She nods, “Yeah, I’ve got some pretty shit ones right now too. It’ll pass.” He promises.

He sits with her in silence for a few moments. It’s nice, reminds him of when his Papa had helped him through his first. He extricates his hand from hers, much to her annoyance, to run his fingers through her hair. She sighs and nuzzles into him.

“Feels nice.” She murmurs, breathing slowing to that of sleep.

Careful not to jostle the nest, he stands. Allura is standing by the door. She is silent as she regards him. He takes a deep breath, ready to apologise, when she speaks.

“Lance, I am so sorry.” He stares at her with wide eyes, “I… What I said, the other day, I… I’ve held onto that anger for so long. I-I can’t believe that those words came out of my mouth.” She finally looks up at him, eyes shining. “And you,” she waves a hand towards him, “you are so much more than I ever gave you credit for. I’m sorry I’ve judged you so poorly. I should have realised when you saved Coran.” Her voice trembles, “He’s the only family I have left.”

Lance blushes. This wasn’t what he was expecting, at all. He rubs the back of his neck, his jaw, self-conscious. Her eyes drop to his arm where his sleeve slips. He drops his hand, hiding his scars.

“I forgive you.” He says, easily. He feels a weight lift from him at his own words. “It’s not like I make a great impression.” He shrugs, grinning at the way she covers her mouth to stem her own laughter. “Mind you, it’s not like I insulted your ears, so I suppose we’re even.” She snorts inelegantly, throwing a wild look to Pidge on the bed, hoping she hasn’t woken her. “Anyway. I’ve got to get on. Coran said he’ll help me set up the running track in training room four, then I have a date with the observation deck.” She nods at him, still smiling gently. “Don’t open this door for Keith or Shiro, I don’t think they’d do anything, but it’s not really them I’m worried about. A first heat can be really taxing, and I don’t want any part of Pidge’s to be stressful.”

Chapter Text

In the end, it takes Lance’s cramps two more days to leave him the fuck alone.

In that time he feels like he’s eaten his weight in food and become something of a lay about. He thinks everyone might be treating him with kid-gloves, worried he might breakdown on them so he hasn’t really had much of anything to occupy himself with. However, he was as pleased to hear that they won’t be starting the offensive on Zarkon just yet as he was disappointed he wouldn’t be going home. They’ve postponed the plans and stashed the giant teleduv on a moon on the outer reaches of the Glara Empire, before heading elsewhere to wait out his and Pidge’s heats.

He wakes on the third day after the mission feeling energised enough to try the running track in the training room.

He grabs his usual work-out clothes and pauses as he throws on the t-shirt. He’s staring down at the scars on his arm. He hates it. He feels the ball of anger growing in the pit of his stomach, mixing with the anxiety of reliving the experience in his head. Furious, he rips the shirt off and rummages in the closet to find a long-sleeve. He’ll sweat, but he won’t have to see the evidence of that attack.

He finds one at the very back. It’s cornflower blue and he thinks he picked it up on a swap moon. It’s buttery soft, and it hugs him in all the right ways down to mid-thigh. He remembers picking it, thinking he’d wear it on a date. Fat chance of that! He scoffs at himself.

Grabbing a towel he makes his way to training room four. He’s pleased not to come across anyone on the way. He can’t imagine what his scent is doing right now.

He slams his hand into the panel at the door and throws his towel down on one of the benches at the side. He was surprised-and-not to discover that the whole floor moved rather than sections of it when Coran had shown him how to use it.

“Begin simulation.” He barks.

The floor moves and picks up speed until Lance is running hard. It feels good to finally start to feel his energy put to use.

He concentrates on staying upright. Normally, he’s a good runner, his long legs have always helped, but on a dry heat his stamina is unmatched. He can run for days. Has done, much to Marco’s chagrin.

It’s meditative. He loses himself to the beat of his feet, wishing he had music. It’s been so long since he’s heard music. Real music. Not the rigid waltzy stuff the Altean’s prefer, but something with a beat, something to move to. He could settle for acoustic, loves singing to it.

I bet the Galra listen to death-metal. He thinks somewhat gleefully.

He’s so wrapped up thinking about his countless downloads at home and whether or not Pidge might be able to hack into somewhere with a decent playlist, that he doesn’t notice the door swish open.

Their scents reach him first. Tantalisingly mingled, it’s almost enough to throw him off. Almost.

“End simulation.” He huffs.

Once the floor stops moving, he walks to the bench where he’d left his towel and wipes at his face and neck. He notices the way the Alphas are looking at him, but he chooses to ignore it, feeling like his misreading their gazes.

“What’s up?” He asks, wishing he’d had the forethought to grab a few water pouches as his voice cracks.

Keith licks his lips, his eyes running down Lance’s body and back up again. It makes Lance feel oddly naked. Shiro whacks Keith on the arm, snapping him out of his leering. Keith gives him an affronted look and crosses his arms. The black paladin throws Lance a water pouch.

“We wondered if you could use some company?” He offers, voice gentle, careful not to allow any Command colour his words.

As he drinks, Lance considers them. They stand together, always together, their shoulders touching and a towel each held in hand. Their scents are calm and soft. They way they curl around each other, almost indistinguishable, suggests to Lance that they’re reaffirmed their bond over the last couple of days.

His gaze slips to their necks. They’re in civvies for a change and the way their t-shirts rest at the base of their necks, leave little to the imagination. Their marks are scabbed over now, a little bruised. Lance averts his eyes and shrugs.

“Sure.” He says, finally. He throws the towel back down and heads back into the middle of the room. He ignores the way his own neck prickles at turning his back to them. Threat, a voice whispers, Alpha, another croons.

“Begin simulation.”

He knows the irritation he feels at himself is bleeding into his scent, but the other two don’t remark on it.

For a long a while, they run. The two Alphas are still at his back and it makes him feel hunted. It’s not a good sensation, but he tamps it down, feeling stupid.

He trusts them with his life.

So why?

His arm breaking… teeth baring down on him… claws in his flesh… Submit.

Suddenly, it’s too much.

“Come ahead of me.” He begs, abruptly anxious to see the Alphas in the room with him and not only scent them.

They don’t comment on his plea, but act swiftly to do as he asks of them. He feels his shoulders relax a little to see them running ahead of him.

It’s funny. If he had to describe how he feels when he looks at them, this would be it. Them out of reach before him and him desperate to catch up.

They’ve been running longer than he thought. Sweat soaks the back of their t-shirts, leaving little ‘v’s of moisture. The wisps of Keith’s hair that he’s not pulled into a pony-tail stick to his skin. Shiro is panting. Lance doesn’t think he’s ever seen him pant before. He always seems to have endless reserves in training.

His Omega drive to protect the pack starts to creep in at the edge of his awareness.

He could deplete them like this. He could really hurt them without intending to. Alphas are stubborn by nature, but that trait is compounded in these two by who they are. Always striving to be the best. Maybe it’s part of what makes them all such a good team. They all have to be the best. It’s just that, well… Lance doesn’t think he’s the best at anything. Oh, he wants to be, he wants to believe he’s the best shooter they have, but he knows that if anyone else here put their mind to it… he wouldn’t be.

“End simulation.” The suddenness of his command makes both Alphas jump a little.

He stalks over to the water packets.

“How… are you… not wheezing?” Keith grumbles between sucking in lungful’s of air.

He grabs a water packet himself and Lance makes a concerted effort not to flinch at the abruptness of his hand shooting past his scarred arm. From the tension in the air, he’s not sure he manages it.

“Dry heat.” He says, he stretches out his legs a little, not wanting to feel the muscles burn in a day or two.

Keith grunts at him and downs two pouches off the bat.

“You don’t have to stay.” Lance offers, smiling at him a little. Shiro comes into his field of vision slowly, reaching for a water pouch. Keith goggles at him.

“You’re gonna keep going?” He’s incredulous.

Lance shrugs, self-conscious. “Yeah, I mean. It’s what I do on a dry heat. Nothing better to do right now, and running… helps.”

“No, sorry. I can’t believe this.” Keith grumbles, covering his eyes before letting his hand drop to cover his mouth, gazing at Lance with something akin to wonder in his eyes, “Have you been holding out on us with some kind of super power?”

That startles a laugh out of Lance and both Alphas grin widely at him.

“No. I’m still just me. No super powers here.” He chuckles, heat suffusing his cheeks with a little bit of pride. “It’s just what I’m like on a dry heat, I promise. In a few days I’ll be back to my useless self.”

The room goes very quiet.

“Don’t.” Shiro says, softly. Lance looks up at him. His face is open and gentle. Understanding shines in his eyes. “Don’t say that about yourself.”

Keith looks like he’s been slapped.

“You don’t… You don’t really feel that way… do you?” He asks, hesitant.

Lance stares at them. Of course I do, he thinks, I don’t bring anything to the table other than cheesy pick up lines.

Instead he just says, almost cold, “I’m gonna go start up again. You can stay if you want, but I’m not stopping again. If you’re gonna stay and not join can you…” He swallows, putting the pouch down and walking back to the room’s centre to avoid them watching him too closely, “can you stay in my eye-line?”

They’re silent for a beat too long and Lance feels his anxiety rise, then, “Sure.” They both say, walking along the edge of the room to a bench within Lance’s line of sight. They sit and begin to mop at themselves, chugging the water pouches like they’re going out of style.

“Begin simulation.”

Chapter Text

They sit watching Lance for what feels like hours. Keith leans firmly into Shiro’s side and his mate turns his head toward him in query.

“Something isn’t right.” He murmurs, quiet enough that he won’t be overheard.

Shiro nods and Keith knows he’s giving Lance a surreptitious look.

“I don’t like…” He sighs out a breath, “I don’t like that he feels like that. Like he’s useless. Do we make him feel that way?” Shiro looks at him sharply, “I mean all of us, not, you know, just us.”

Shiro smiles gently at him. “I don’t like it either.” He confesses, “He’s so much more important to the team than he realises.” Shiro’s smile turns sad at the edges, “He’s more important to us than he realises, too.”

Keith groans just a bit. “Don’t you think, the way he is at the moment he’ll…” he trails off, turning his gaze to the Omega.

“He’ll misconstrue any courting gesture?” Shiro offers. At his mate’s nod he turns his own eyes to Lance, “Maybe.” He shrugs, “Probably.”

“I don’t want him to think it’s because he’s an Omega.” Keith whispers. “I’ve…” He bites his lip, “I’ve always liked Lance. He’s always been…”

“Pretty?” Shiro supplies.

“Beautiful.” Keith counters, feeling a blush rise to his cheeks. “Being shot into space with him made me more aware of it, but then there was you.” He nudges his forehead into Shiro’s shoulder for emphasis, “I’ve always loved you. Being bonded to you means everything to me and yet…” He sighs, frustrated.

“Something’s missing.”

There’s no judgement in Shiro’s voice, nothing to suggest any ire. He’s looking at Keith with a fond expression. It makes Keith feel warm with affection.

“Yeah.” He agrees. “Him.”

Shiro leans forward on the bench with his elbows on his knees. Keith mirrors him, watching his face. He raises the fingers of his human hand to his mouth, his eyes glazing over. Keith wonders if he’s thinking of the almost-kiss from before.

“I feel the same.” He eventually says. “You’re my world, Keith.” The red paladin flushes, wondering if he’ll ever get used to Shiro being so frank with him. “He’s… He’s like the sun. You can’t help but gravitate towards him.”

Keith considers this. It’s true. Despite all the jokes and the flirting, Lance is personable, someone people want to be around. He’s quick to smile in a way that neither he nor Shiro have ever mastered. Oh, sure, Shiro’s approachable, but Lance makes him want to spill every secret he’s ever had. It’s unnerving.

He sighs, “I don’t know the first thing about courting. I mean, we never… not really anyway.” Shiro gives him a sad smile and Keith bumps their shoulders together. “I don’t feel like I missed out on anything. I was just so happy to have you.”

“I don’t have any experience either, other than my clumsy attempts of it at high school. I don’t know where to start.” He huffs out a sigh. “He’s so open about himself, but it’s like he only lets us see the superficial things. He’s not come to talk to any of us over the last few day about…” He trails off, sorrow etched into his features.

Keith nudges him and brings a leg up to hug his knee as he looks at him. “That’s not entirely fair, you know. You didn’t want to talk to me about your time as Champion for ages, but you got there, and I didn’t want to talk about my dad for years or the things that happened after – and even then the situation kind of forced my hand.”

Shiro grunts, but doesn’t speak for a few moments, watching Lance with a sort-of hungry gaze with a raw affection at its edges. “I don’t know if he even wants us that way.” Shiro finally declares.

Keith sighs and leans back to stare at the ceiling. “I think he does – at the very least he was going to kiss you. Though from what you told me of him, uhm, seeing us, maybe he doesn’t think he would be welcome – that and his own insecurities, maybe.” He scrubs a hand over his face. “Maybe we should talk to Hunk? He knows Lance best, right?”

Shiro makes a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat, still hunched and staring at Lance. He’s trying to work it out, weighing the ‘problem’ of courting Lance. Keith recognises the light in his eyes. It’s the same as when he got his Kerberos orders. Wonder and trepidation and uncertainty.

It’s a beautiful expression.

He huffs out a breath and leans forward again to mirror Shiro. He stares a Lance and wonders what shows on his own face.

“We’re still gonna try, right?” He asks.

He can hear the way Shiro smirks in his voice, all Alpha confidence, “Oh, yeah.”

Chapter Text

After a little cry and a long shower, where he’s used all of his best products to perk himself up, Lance heads to the galley. Other than goo, he’s not eaten properly today and his stomach is starting to make it’s irritation known. He knows better, he really does, but after all the eating he’s done over the past few days, he was starting to feel like he might lose his figure over it.

It's a stupid thought. He knows he’s more susceptible to malnutrition on a dry heat than any other time, if only because his metabolism ramps up to overdrive. On a true heat it’s different. Liquids are a must to replenish himself, but food doesn’t hold the same meaning for him. Sure, he’ll snack throughout, but anything bigger than a handful of tortilla chips and salsa makes him queasy.

He hopes Pidge has been eating enough.

He’d popped over to check on her, but Allura had assured him she was fine and sleeping. Apparently she’s been writing the whole experience down and has plans to compare notes when she has her next one.

As he walks into the kitchen, he is hit with an almost overwhelming smell of what they’ve come to use as garlic.  His head shoots up from where he’d been looking at the floor as he’d walked, and he’s shocked at what he sees.

“What are you doing?” He asks, nervous and a little intrigued.

Hunk turns to smile warmly at him while Shiro and Keith look like kids with their hand caught in the cookie jar. They look so ridiculous in the aprons it’s endearing.

“Hey, Lance.” Hunk greets, taking his own apron off and heading towards him at the door. “I was just teaching Keith and Shiro a few things.” He throws the two Alphas a look over his shoulder which Lance can’t see. “I’m gonna go find Coran. I wanted to talk to him about the possible applications of scaultrite in the ship’s pods.” He claps Lance on the shoulder and rushes away leaving Lance feeling like he’s missed a step.

“Uhm…” Way to be eloquent, Lance!

In all fairness to him, the other two seem to be just as lost as he feels.

He stands in the doorway, in his paladin pyjamas and blue lion slippers, feeling foolish. He clasps his hands together in front of him, unclasps them, fiddles with the tie on his robe, and frowns at the floor. Something has shifted and he doesn’t know what. He doesn’t relish the sensation.

Shiro is the one to break the awkward silence, “Lance?” He returns his gaze to them slowly. They’ve removed the aprons and they’re standing at the island. The Alphas hold his eyes, steadily. “Would you like something to eat?”

Keith pipes up, “We’ve made something. Uhm, for you.”

Lance goggles at them, uncomprehending. He takes a step forward. Hesitates.

“Why?” He asks, hating how vulnerable that one word sounds, how pathetic.

Keith smiles at him, eyebrows drawing up in way that Lance can only describe as fond, but it’s Shiro that comes to meet him, reaching out a hand slowly to grasp at Lance’s. Lance stares down at the hand holding his, at the way Shiro’s thumb gently brushes the back of his hand. He looks up to meet Shiro’s eyes.

Shiro has beautiful eyes. Grey and warm. Like summer storm clouds.

“Because we wanted to.” He answers, tone low, “We want to show you how much you mean to us.”

Lance’s heart stutters in his chest, burning with hope so keen it borders on tragic. He won’t lie. He’s dreamt of this. Of someone offering this to him. Never in his wildest dreams had he thought it would be these two.

Shiro and Keith are unattainable. That’s how Lance has always viewed them. It was why he had allowed the scenting, selfishly thinking if I can just have this. Now… now it almost sounds as though they’re offering him what he’s never allowed himself to consider.

But the timing…

“Why now?” His voice trembles. He can feel his knees shaking. He looks back down at the hand in his.

He hears Keith move, feels his hand on the hip opposite of his captive hand.

“Because we need you.” He murmurs, voice soft.

He shakes his head, squeezing his eyes tight shut. A tender, albeit metallic, hand brushes the hair at his temple.

“Lance.” They say as one, and it sounds like a plea.

He swallows.

“Come eat.” Shiro whispers.

Again, he hesitates. He feels like he’s standing on the edge of a precipice, terrified and exhilarated all at once. If he takes this leap, he knows he won’t be able to turn back. The two men wait for him, patiently. In any other situation, Lance might laugh at the thought of Keith being patient.

“Okay.” He breathes, opening his eyes. “Okay.”

Keith and Shiro gently guide him to a chair at the island, sitting down to flank him. It’s a semi-protective move and the Omega in him preens at the consideration.

Keith drags a platter over while Shiro places a plate in front of each of them. Lance has yet to look up from his lap, feeling somewhat overwhelmed. Keith serves up a few delicious smelling morsels for them and Lance startles when he feels Shiro’s hand between his shoulder blades. He finally raises his eyes enough to take in the food in front of him.

Keith has plated up three of what would pass for garlic knots. They’re the same magenta of the now-staple pancakes and Lance realises, belatedly, it must the flour. They hold the distinctive shape of a garlic knot and the smell in the room of space garlic all but confirms it. They’re a little lopsided and a few have the distinctive blackness of a burn about their edges, and as Lance looks at them, he can’t help but think that they look beautiful.

Shiro and Keith have made him garlic knots. Shakily, he reaches a hand out to grab at one. He turns it over in his hand, fully inspecting it. Definitely singed, but not inedible.

He brings it to his mouth to take a bite. The flavour of it bursts across is tongue and his eyes fill with homesick tears.

“Lance?” Keith enquires, worry colouring his tone. He and Shiro duck their heads down to try and meet his gaze.

“They’re good,” he chokes, swiping the back of a hand over his eyes, “really good.”

Shiro’s hand, still resting  on his back, rubs in a soothing circle.

“What are you doing?” Lance asks, suddenly feeling his anxiety spike. He can’t bring himself to look at either one of them. He doesn’t understand. “What is this? I need you both to be really fucking clear with me, because I don’t know if I can take it if I’m making some kind of mistake here and this is all just misplaced guilt or--”

He knows his scent is all over the place because Keith stands and rests a hand on the back of back of neck, squeezing gently while Shiro’s arm wraps around his shoulders.

“Hey.” Shiro cuts off his panicked muttering, “Hey, you’re okay. Calm down, it’s okay.” 

Lance shoots out of his chair and puts some distance between them.

“No, it’s not.” He cries, confusion clear on his face, “Neither one of you have shown any interest in me before you knew I was an Omega and even then!”

Keith’s face goes pale so quickly that the Omega has a brief worry that he might just keel over, “Lance, that’s not--”

“And now, after that complete cock up, my complete cock-up, on the mission, what? You think I need an Alpha? Well, I don’t.” He doesn’t even really know what he’s saying. They’re here, offering themselves to Lance, but if they’re not, he needs to know to protect his heart and if it’s out of pity he doesn’t want it. “I don’t need pity.” He can feel the tears streaming down his face, a mixture of heartrending garlic-knot-induced homesickness and uncertainty at the situation consuming him.

“Lance, please, just listen--” Shiro tries, hand held in front of him placatingly.

“I might be useless, but I-I’m not weak. If it’s not pity, then what? If it’s not misplaced guilt, then what? You two are… you have each other, so what is this?”

Shiro stands abruptly, his hands trembling at his sides before he balls them into fists. He approaches Lance too quickly and the Omega flinches, closing his eyes. However, rather than any violence, Shiro just reaches out and holds him close to his chest. Lance’s eyes spring open, shocked. Shiro’s hand clasps the back of his head tenderly as he rests his chin on Lance’s hair.

Keith moves to join them, placing his own hand against Lance’s hip while he rests his forehead on the Omega’s shoulder.

“Please.” Keith whispers, a whine sounding his throat, “Please don’t misunderstand this. Don’t misunderstand us.”

Shiro’s fingers play in his hair, “Lance, look, it’s true that we might not have been entirely forthcoming with you until after we knew you were an Omega, but that’s not what this is. We just… we didn’t know how to approach this and with everything that happened… we realised how close we came to not having you at all and neither one of us can stand the thought of that.”

“I knew this would happen, that you’d misinterpret this happening now.” Keith says, and Lance opens his mouth to start arguing with him, to ask how he could interpret it any other way, but Keith steamrolls him, “Lance, you are so much more than your secondary gender. We all are. That you’re an Omega, the pack Omega, doesn’t hold water for us. You’re selfless, beautiful and, above all, brave.”

“We don’t think you need an Alpha,” Shiro goes on, “but we thought – we hoped – you’d, maybe, consider us.”

“Will you accept our intent to court you, Lance?” Keith asks, earnest and, when Lance meets his gaze, lifting his head just slightly, he’s surprised to see the Alpha’s face open and honest.

He turns his face into Shiro’s chest, his own chest aching with unnamed emotion. They wait, touching him like he might break. Maybe he will.

“Do you mean it?” Lance queries, hating the vulnerability in his voice.

Shiro shakes with a sad laugh, “Oh, baby,” Lance flushes at the pet name, “yes. We wouldn’t play at this.”

Keith draws himself closer so he’s flush against Lance’s side, knee to shoulder. “We mean it.” He confirms.

Lance draws in a shuddering breath. He still has reservations, but he doesn’t think he would be able to forgive himself if he was this close and let this opportunity slip away. If they are serious, if what they’re saying is true, he can give it a shot.

“Then, yes. I accept.”

Chapter Text

Shiro wouldn’t consider himself a coward. He blasted himself into space as the youngest captain at the Garrison, fought monsters of unimaginable types in the arena, commandeered a Galra ship, then when back to fighting. He’s no coward, but when Lance had turned tearful eyes to him, accusing him and Keith of pity, he’d felt like one.

They should have made it clearer, should have left no room for doubt. Some misplaced sense of propriety – worry of refusal – had prevented him from just voicing his desire out loud. It physically pains him that he and Keith hadn’t outright said what they were doing at Lance’s first query. Even if the fear of rejection had been pushing into his mind.

A day after the botched courting proposal finds him in the common area with Lance and Keith after Lance has run them both into the ground in training room four – almost literally.

It had been Keith’s suggestion – a movie date, or as close to it as they were going to get. Lance had picked the movie and they all sat huddled under the blankets from Lance’s dismantled nest.

Really, the nest should have been the first sign that he and Keith were as serious as a heart attack, but then, again, they hadn’t exactly made it clear. When Hunk had questioned him about it, they’d begged worry that Lance would be too tired. Shiro huffs a sigh.

They’re watching some action movie with horror elements, Keith and Lance are fixated on the screen, but Shiro lets his mind wander to further efforts of courting.

The garlic knots had been eaten with great aplomb, after the misunderstanding had been thoroughly crushed. Lance had praised them both on their effort, and, even if the taste of them had been more charcoal than not to the Alphas, they had puffed up with pride.

Shiro wants to take Lance to a beach. Maybe he can talk Allura into finding a beachy planet. He doesn’t care where, but he knows it’s something that Lance misses with a sort-of heartbreak. Lance was made for sun, for sand. He’s the kind of person Shiro would have yearned for as a tween.

Having grown up in the snowier regions of Japan, he’d ached for the summer months to return and then cursed his pale skin when it didn’t take to the sun as he’d wished. The few short breaks he’d taken during his time at the Garrison, he had flown out to the coast, but inevitably ended up sat under a parasol glaring at the sea. He knows Keith would be the same, despite his time spent in the desert.

Lance has a kind of otherworldly quality to him. His caramel skin looks warm and inviting in a way that he’s always admired. He’s made for the water. Once they’d finally figured out how to use the Altean pool, Lance had spent countless hours there swimming laps and generally dicking about. He always came back to training more focussed than before. Like the water had somehow melted away his frustration at himself.

Idly, he wonders if he should ask Lance to accompany him swimming, ultimately deciding that, perhaps, he would decline.

One of the things he’s noticed over the days after Lance had exited the Pod is that he never goes anywhere without long sleeves. Shiro understands the feeling, perhaps better than most, even now there a scars he won’t talk about with Keith and it had taken him a long time to trust Keith not ask about them. A part of him aches to see the final scarring on Lance, to attempt to rewrite the memory for the Omega, only he’s uncertain that Lance would even welcome such attention so soon.

Lance flinches and Shiro turns his attention back to the screen to see what must be a creature of about eight-foot with four arms and no eyes tearing a Puigian to shreds. It’s not pretty. Lance shudders and Shiro wonders if he’s doing a mental comparison in his head of how close he came to the same.

He reaches out a gentle hand, pausing for only a second before grasping Lance’s in his where it’s clutching at the blanket over his lap.

Though Lance doesn’t flinch, he does startle slightly, and it’s enough to draw Keith out of the movie long enough to check in. He looks down at Lance’s lap and grins at Shiro. Keith scooches down in his seat and leans to rest his head against Lance’s shoulder.

Always got to one up me, Shiro thinks, fondly.

He throws out a calming scent, rolls his eyes when Keith grunts at him and leans down to rest his cheek on Lance’s head in an almost-scenting gesture. Lance tenses and Shiro considers withdrawing until the Omega suddenly relaxes into the embrace.

Slow, he decides.

The last thing he wants is either one of them to scare Lance off. What he’s been through is traumatic and if Shiro thinks too hard on it, he’s tempted to take Black and go flying back to Beta Traz to put that Alpha in his place - to kill him. A large part of Shiro mourns that he and Keith will not be the first Alphas to mark Lance.

It’s not just his Alpha side, it’s something deeply rooted in him that makes him a little bit sick. Before, Lance had been unblemished, free of any marking save the burn on his back which he wears like a badge of honour. It doesn’t make him any less to Shiro – or Keith – however, the shock of the difference of Lance’s unmarked skin and the wounds he had seen in Blue’s cockpit don’t mesh. After he and Keith has scented Lance, he’d had a selfish dream that they would be the first and only. It wasn’t just selfish. It was plain stupid. They’re at war. More than that, the Galra have similar endotypes to them. Realistically, it was a matter of time.

Speaking to Hunk while he’d been teaching them how to make the garlic knots had confirmed that not even the Beta had been allowed to see the scars and that scared Shiro. Of everyone, he thought that Lance would open up to Hunk. Keith’s right, he’s expecting too much too soon. He can’t seem to help it. His – their – Omega is hurting. It’s their job to fix it.

Coran knocks on the door’s edges is it swishes open for him. “Sorry to interrupt,” he says, in a way which makes Shiro think he’s not sorry at all, “but a couple of members of the Blade have arrived.”

Shiro stares at him blankly for a moment. Blades…? Why are they… oh!

“Oh! I forgot!” He exclaims, sheepish. He dislodges himself from the lovely cuddle-pile they had going and stretches.

Lance gives him a sceptical look, “You forgot?”

Sleepily, Keith raises his head and Shiro smiles at him. He looks like he was almost gone. “Give him a break, Lance, we had more important things on our mind.” He grouches, but there’s such a soft edge to his voice there’s only one way Lance can interpret it.

He blushes, hard. It colours most of his face and the tips of his ears. He ducks his head to hide his face in his hands and Shiro is nearly overcome in that moment with the urge to kiss him. Lance let’s out a noise that might be a whine and Keith grins.

“Allura invited them,” Shiro explains, “she wants to begin talks about our next move against Zarkon.”

Lance goes tense for a split second, but it’s fast enough that Shiro questions if it actually happened. Then he begins to stand, letting Keith sprawl onto the floor with a disgruntled cry.

“Uncalled for.” He mutters, standing himself and hovering just slightly at Lance’s side. Shiro hides his grin by turning to Coran.

“Lead the way, Coran.”

Chapter Text

Kolivan greets Lance in the same way he has before. Shiro can see the way Lance supresses a heated blush as the Blade rises and he barely restrains a growl. Feeling the way Keith tenses beside him, he thinks he might be doing the same.

“Kolivan.” Lance greets him with a warm smile, his eyes flicking over to the large Galra to his side. He has his Blade mask up. “And…?”

“This is my mate, Antok.” The huge Blade lowers his mask and steps forward. Shiro nearly recoils and Keith draws in a sharp breath. It’s the first time any of the team have been privy to his features and his face is horribly scarred. That someone could do this to an Omega makes his blood boil. It hits closer to home than it ever has before.

He’s a Galra of the cat-like variety with large sweeping ears that twitch slightly as he pulls down his hood. He has a pale lavender colouring with darker markings around his eyes and his mane is almost white.

There is a vicious scar across his face which bisects his eye almost completely, the orb dimmed to a pale yellow as opposed to the Galra gold. Another sweeps up from the neck of his bodysuit and cuts upwards over his chin, narrowly missing his lips and still Shiro thinks he can see a scar peeking out from the mane of hair on his head. Even silver with age, they look angry.

Antok approaches Lance slowly. Shiro watches as he takes in Lance’s face, scans over his body then back to his face again, assessing. Lance straightens a little and Shiro’s chest swells with pride at his pledged Omega. Once he’s standing in front of Lance, Antok stops and abruptly bends at the waist bringing his face within inches of Lance’s. Instead of flinching as Shiro had expected, Lance just looks at him.

He’s taking in the scars across Antok’s face in the same way the Galra had done to him. His face is contemplative and Antok allows him to continue his own assessment with patience. Shiro can feel the way Keith grows restless beside him. He understands it. The urge to protect Lance is particularly strong at the moment and this is not the sort of interaction they had been expecting.

Regarding the exchange, though, Shiro relaxes and senses Keith do the same, taking his mate’s acceptance of the situation as enough to dissipate his own nerves.

Antok lowers his head to Lance and touches their brows together. Lance accepts the gesture and presses back, gently. The Galra shifts and presses their cheeks together in a scenting ritual, tinged with what Shiro can only describe as sorrow.

Keith shifts his weight and crosses his arms looking sullen. Shiro leans down, letting a gentle growl rumble in his chest as he says, “Those are not Kolivan’s marks. They’re commiserating.” Keith raises he gaze and evaluates the scene in front of them again.

Antok’s tail has twisted it’s way around Lance’s ankle, but it’s not an aggressive gesture. It looks more like a hug than anything else. Lance raises softly shaking hands and holds Antok’s cheeks as they stare at each other. He brushes his fingers across the scars on his face and allows Antok to do the same to the marks around his eye and the small nick on his cheek. They part with a final touching of brows and Antok takes a single step back, turning his head to look at Kolivan.

Kolivan, when Shiro returns his own gaze to him, is watching the two Omega with something like sadness shining in his eyes. It’s an odd look on a Galra, but not an unpleasant one.

“We have come because Allura told us about what happened on your assigned mission.” He throws Shiro a dark look, but turns his attention back to Lance quickly enough that Shiro doubts his own eyes. “Antok said he would like to take this opportunity to train you, if you are willing?”

“Train me?” Lance asks, uncertainty painting his scent and making Antok’s face break into a smile. It lights his face in a way that Shiro had not been expecting and he can suddenly understand why Kolivan is such a devoted mate.

“You’re hand to hand needs work, little one.” He murmurs, not unkindly. His voice his smooth, and carries an undertone of a purr. “I would like to attempt to show you the best ways for you fight against a Galra despite your disadvantageous height and I cannot imagine you would relish the idea of fighting an Alpha.”

Lance’s face twists with pain and Shiro hurts. He takes a step closer to the Omegas, but Kolivan draws his attention with a firm shake of his head. He rankles at another Alpha giving him any kind of order, even more so after so long as pack-Alpha, but allows Lance to handle it on his own.

“From what I understand, little one, you fended off the Alpha. Not your teammates. You. Please do not mistake my offer as an insult.” Antok smiles again, a little more softly and a little more sad, “Many do not come back from such attacks, and I would like to ensure that if it happens again, you have the best training to be able to protect yourself and your pack.”

As Shiro watches, Lance’s face hardens. He nods, accepting Antok’s offer.

Shiro feels a blind swell of panic rise in him. He remembers all too vividly the injuries that a Galra had inflicted on Lance. He remembers the blood and Lance’s scent stained with pain and fear. The thought of anything like that happening again, the thought of even the controlled threat of Antok teaching Lance is enough to make his throat close.

Keith shifts in his periphery. He turns to look at him, focusses on his eyes, but it’s not enough. His knees are shaking and he can feel himself sweating. His clothes are too tight.

Keith’s eyes widen at him.

“Lance.” He calls in a trembling voice. Then again, louder when Lance doesn’t immediately appear at their sides, “Lance.”

Their Omega turns, brows furrowed, evidently thinking them rude for the interruption. Then his eyes widen in horror and he’s beside them in a flash.

“Shiro.” He says, breathless, “Keith, what happened?”

“I don’t know, he just… I don’t think he can breathe.” Keith sounds alarmed, and it causes Shiro’s own panic to spike. The way Lance’s nose wrinkles suggests that it’s saturating his scent.

The Galra remain stoic and just out of Shiro’s eyeline with the way Lance is filling his vision. The Alpha is thankful for it, but their foreign scent burns in his nose.

Warm, dry hands touch his face. “Shiro.” He stares into Lance’s concerned eyes, “You’re having a panic attack. I need you to try and breathe for me, okay?” He gives a frantic nod, gripping a hand to his chest as his other latches onto Lance’s arm. Lance winces briefly, but just continues. He sways them from side to side slowly, allowing calming pheromones to envelop them. “In,” he inhales deeply, “and out,” an exhale, “In, and out. That’s it. In, and out.”

He doesn’t know how much time passes, but by the time he feels like he has more control over his breathing, Keith is looking at them with a painfully tender expression. Shiro registers that Keith has placed a hand on his hip and he cocks his hip just slightly to press into the comfort of it. Keith gives him a slightly shaky smile.

He swallows, “I’m okay. I’m alright.” He says, “Sorry.”

Lance smiles gently at him, “Don’t be sorry. It happens – to  be honest, if anyone has earned a good ol’ panic attack around here, it’s you.” He heaves a sigh and straightens.

Shiro still has a semi-tight grip around his forearm and Lance gives it a careful glance, but doesn’t shake him off. Instead he asks, in a low voice hoping not to be overheard, “Can you tell me what happened?”

Shiro presses his lips together, trying not to visualise Lance almost bleeding out. He shakes his head, “Maybe later?” He offers, just as quietly.

“Okay.” Lance doesn’t probe and instead turns his attention to Keith, “You okay, buddy?”

Keith swallows, nodding. He’s looking at Lance like he hung the sky, “That was amazing.” He praises.

Lance turns away from them, his face pinking, “Not really.” He says, he touches his hand to the one Shiro still has wrapped around his arm. Shiro takes the hint and begrudgingly lets his fingers slide free.

Belatedly, he realises that he’d been gripping onto his newly scarred limb. Part of his brain had registered the slightly uneven texture of it, but he’d been so consumed by imagined fear that he hadn’t been able to understand what it had meant. Abruptly, the wince makes sense and Shiro feels his entire being flood with guilt. 

Keith grounds him with a hand on his spine. It slides down to the scent gland on his lower-back and presses just slightly. He relaxes.

Lance turns and addresses Antok, “I really need to be with them right now, but Coran will find somewhere for you two to sleep and I think Hunk made enough food that there are some pretty awesome leftovers.”

Kolivan inclines his head at Lance and turns to take the Alphas in. His eyes glow with understanding and he inclines his head again. Shiro returns the gesture, straightening fully. He knows it could be misconstrued as posturing, but right now, all he cares about is not looking weak to an Alpha who has already shown interest in Lance. The way Kolivan’s lip twitches, tells Shiro that he recognises the move for what is it.

Antok comes forward to scent Lance again. The blue paladin accepts the scenting and returns it with a gentle sigh.

“Until tomorrow, little one.” Antok murmurs.

Lance pats each of the Alphas on the shoulder and heads towards the door, “Come on.” He calls.

As they turn to follow him Shiro is struck with an odd thought. I’m pretty sure I would follow him anywhere. When he looks at Keith, he knows he’s thinking the same.

Chapter Text

Lance walks down the hall, trying to give off an air of confidence. Inside, his stomach is doing flips.

He hadn’t given much thought to additional hand-to-hand training, but it’s clear he’s lacking. He’s never been good at the up close and personal fighting. Oh, he can manage it. He’s just never really had quite the same need for it that Keith and Shiro have. A large part of Lance is looking forward to what he’s certain will be interesting lessons, but the Omega part, the part that wants to be cherished and pampered, isn’t really on board.

Antok’s face had been a shock. The inherent knowledge that Antok had lowered his mask so as to show his own scarring had warmed him. Upon seeing the scars, the sorrow in Antok’s eyes, he’d instinctively understood. He’d had the same happen. Maybe on a mission, maybe when he was much younger. The gesture of willingly baring that pain to Lance, someone outside of Antok’s pack, had touched him. It helped that Antok was apparently quick to smile.

Yeah, I think I can manage training with him.

He can sense the Alphas following him and it gives him that hunted sensation from before. He takes a deep breath. He will not be scared of these Alphas, he just won’t.

He pauses briefly outside the common area’s door, ultimately deciding to continue for the sleeping quarters. He can scent the Alphas’ uncertainty in the air, but he decides not to address it.

He eventually stops outside of Shiro’s quarters. He hovers for a moment, wating for the Alpha to join him at the door.

“I-is this okay?” He asks. He doesn’t want to cross the threshold of the room without explicit permission.

Shiro nods with wide, uncertain eyes. Lance squares his shoulders and presses his palm to the opening mechanism. He lets out a thankful breath when the door swishes open.

Shiro’s room is immaculate, there’s nothing additional in his room as there is in Lance’s or Pidge’s – hell, even Hunk has various little knickknacks strewn about his quarters. It’s empty. Forlorn. Lance’s brow creases when he spots Keith’s belt haplessly thrown over the back of the desk chair. Somehow the room’s blankness is sadder knowing it’s shared by the Alphas.

He signals for them to precede him into the room. They walk in and immediately head for the large bed – apparently being the black paladin pays. Lance lets the door close behind him and swallows the mild panic at being alone is close quarters with the Alphas. He fiddles with the lights and dims them to a warmish glow rather than the harsh brightness of the day setting.

He looks up at the Alphas sitting on the bed, shivers when he sees them regarding him with unreadable expressions.

He opens his mouth to try and explain, but the words die in his throat. They both look so different from the soft Alphas he’d had in the common area, all of their comfort and familiarity at a situation fleeing from them. He wonders if he looks the same. Movies and dinner he can do, this? This is intimate beyond measure.

He can’t remember the last time he was in someone else’s bedroom when they were… involved. Lance isn’t exactly a virgin, he’s been with Beta girls, but he has never, ever been with an Alpha in any capacity and he’s saved that part of himself for the right one. He knows none of them are thinking of that, not right now, with his dry heat. Still, it feels almost wrong to be here. Like he’s intruding on their space and he frowns.

Slowly, Shiro raises a hand to him. Lance stares at it. He doesn’t know what to expect, what they want from him. He has to explain.

The words tumble out of him, “Sorry. I just-I know-I wanted to make sure you were comfortable. Having another Alpha on the ship must be hard and then, well, that. I thought about us going back to the movie, but thought you’d be more happy here and now you’re here, so I’m just-I’m gonna go.”

He turns to leave, getting as far as opening the door again when Shiro breathes out, “Stay.”

He glances over his shoulder at them, the way they’re sitting together on the bed, shoulder to shoulder. He doesn’t move.

“Please, stay.” Shiro says again, just as quietly.

Lance scents their hurt, their fear at him walking away from them now, in this moment of vulnerability and he hangs his head, letting the door slide shut again.

He can feel his heart pounding in his chest.

He turns back to them and approaches the bed.

“What do you need?” He asks them, sounding more confident than he feels.

Shiro raises his hand again to hold Lance’s own. He brings Lance closer and Keith’s hand rises to grab his other one. His knees touch theirs.

“Just stay.” Shiro begs, “Please.”

Lance releases some calming pheromones, trying to get either one of them to talk a bit more clearly for him. Keith has yet to utter a word, and while that’s not unlike the younger Alpha, it is starting to worry Lance. The red paladin is gazing up at him with warm eyes. It makes Lance’s insides flutter.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Lance eventually queries, referring to Shiro’s panic attack.

Shiro and Keith both rub their thumbs over the back of his captive hands, he shudders with awareness of them.

It’s Keith that responds, “We just want you. Here. With us.” Lance takes a deep breath, and Keith continues, “N-not for that. For just-we want you around.” He finishes, lamely, looking annoyed that he can’t seem to put the thoughts together.

It’s endearing and it really shouldn’t be.

Lance sighs and says, “Okay, budge up. Let’s get our cuddle on.”

Shiro immediately drops his hand to shuffle backwards on the bed, lying down with his back to the wall, while Keith helps Lance onto the bed. With his heart in his throat, he settles next to Shiro as Keith climbs in on his other side. Once they’re settled Shiro breaks the somewhat tense silence.

“Can I scent you?” He murmurs, and Lance turns his head to face him. There’s still an anxiety scent in the air. It burns his nose and makes his heart stutter. Lance nods and Shiro immediately dives for his neck.

It’s so sudden that Lance flinches back, knocking his head into Keith’s. He turns onto his side, staring at Shiro.

He hates that he can’t seem to control his fear response around them. Shiro goes very, very still, eyes wide and hurt.

“I’m sorry.” Lance whispers, feeling his eyes burn, “Sorry.”

Shiro shakes his head, eyes sad, and Keith presses and gentle hand into his spine. Lance tilts his head to allow them to scent him. Trusting.

Shiro moves slowly this time and keeps his eyes fixed on Lance’s face until he’s certain that Lance isn’t going to draw back again. Then, gently, he presses his nose to the scent gland on Lance’s neck. Lance can feel the tension thrumming through himself and he tries to relax his body. He feels himself shaking.

Keith curls himself around his back protectively and leans his head down to his nape to begin scenting Lance as well. They push their faces against his in turns. Shiro, Keith, Shiro, Keith, Shiro, Keith, until, finally, the shaking stops and he feels himself go lax.

Both Alphas let out a pleased rumble and Lance chirps back at them. It startles him and, evidently, throws them for a loop as well as they draw away just slightly to look him in the face. They pause just long enough to confirm it’s not an unhappy sound before they go back to scenting.

Keith is rubbing his wrist along Lance’s side as his other hand presses gently into the scent gland at the base of his spine. He knows his scent is saturated with approval with the way both Alphas rumble again.

Shiro shifts closer, curling slightly and tucking his knees up. He slides one of his knee’s between Lance’s as his hand reaches out to grasp at his hip. Lance takes a sharp breath and the Alphas pause.

He shakes his head, “I’m okay,” he promises.

Shiro shimmies closer until he’s tucked up underneath Lance’s chin. He turns his head just slightly to push his nose into the join of Lance’s shoulder pressed into the bed and breathes out a sigh. Then Keith presses more closely at his back, pulling his knees up into the space behind Lance’s. He runs the tip of his nose from Lance’s hair line to the very edge of the Omegas shirt-neck and back again a few times before finally settling as he throws his arm over Lance to press his hand to his chest in an embrace.

With shaking fingers, Lance uses one hand to grip the one on his chest and the other to hold one of Shiro’s on the bed between them. He smiles when the fingers entwined with his give a gentle squeeze, and closes his eyes.

As he drifts on the edge of sleep, he thinks he can hear himself letting loose a purr.

Chapter Text

Lance wakes slowly. He comes to himself from a, thankfully, dreamless sleep. He takes stock of his limbs and finds his hands held captive. He’s warm. Safe. Comfortable. He blinks his eyes open.

The ship is still in the night cycle, best he can tell. The lights are still turned low and he knows from experience that once the day cycle starts all the castle’s illumination goes up to full wattage – even if they’ve been pre-programmed the night before.

There’s hair tickling his chin. He goes to disentangle his hand from the one on his chest, grunts when the hand tightens on his. A sigh hushes over the back of his neck and he feels himself tense.

Shiro and Keith.

He’d fallen asleep with Shiro and Keith.  

Keith shifts closer at his back and Shiro buries his face more firmly in his neck. Lance tenses further. It’s not fear, per se, it’s like… anticipation. Nervous anticipation. The few times he’s been with Betas, it’s been more of a wham, bam, thank you Lancey-Lance and it had hurt the first few times. And, sure, he’s sucked a few dicks, he’s familiar with it, but it had always been about blowing off steam. This is… Lance doesn’t know how to categorise it. He knows they are courting, he knows the (ideal) endgame, but this part of it, this quiet intimacy is an unknown to him.

He breathes, trying not to wake them.

They’re sleep warm, verging on too hot. Keith snuffles into his neck a little, presses his hips to Lance’s in a slow circle. Lance jolts. That’s… that is Keith’s… he’s… Shiro grumbles, burrows deeper and the hair tickling Lance’s chin disappears.

Lance’s breathing picks up, bordering on panic.

As quietly as he can, he tries to extricate himself from the cuddle-pile he’s in, but the Alphas have a tight grip on him. They pull him in closer still.

“Ignore it.” Keith says, his voice gravelly with sleep, “Sorry, it’ll go away on its own.”

Lance’s startles and Shiro rumbles in his sleep.

“W-what?” He hisses, trying not to disturb the older Alpha. He turns his head a bit to try and catch Keith’s gaze.

Keith cants his hips away with a sigh. “It’ll go on its own.” He pauses, considering, “Did you want to get up?”

It’s non-judgmental. Quiet and querying without any pressure to either option Lance chooses.  Lance thinks on it. He does and he doesn’t. He’s enjoying the sense of safety, even if he thinks it might influenced by the Alpha pheromones permeating the space. Nevertheless, this feels dangerous. Frightening. He knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that he’s well on his way to loving them, was before this whole thing began. He would give himself to them if they asked it, no matter the damage to himself. It scares him.

“No?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

Lance breathes out a sigh, “I don’t know. This is new to me.”

Keith is quiet for a few moments, “For what it’s worth, this is new to us too.”

“How?” Keith makes a questioning noise in the back of his throat, “How is this new to you? You guys courted, right?”

Keith hums, shifting his legs a little. “Not really. I mean, we didn’t really have the opportunity to, you know? Shiro came back and then we all blasted our way out here. We sort of fell into it in the end, there wasn’t any real courting involved. I knew what I wanted and so did he. Since then it’s been mostly stolen moments.”

Lance digests this. It makes something in him twinge to know that they didn’t, or couldn’t, go through courting. That they’d felt the need to hide what they are to each other. The phrasing leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

“Knew what you wanted…”

The arm around him tightens and releases, “Don’t turn that into something it’s not.” Keith says, almost pleading, “If we weren’t sure on you, we wouldn’t have broached it, so don’t.”

Something in Lance settles.

“This is the first night he’s not woken up from a nightmare, you know.” Keith murmurs, lips on Lance’s neck. He shivers. “I thought he would, tonight.”

“PTSD?”

“Yeah. He doesn’t like to talk about it.” The Alpha huffs out a breath, “It would probably help. Then again, it’s not like I have any right to judge him about not talking about it.”

“I mean, you are pretty crap at communication, yourself.”

“Cut me some slack, I did live in a shack in the desert. The only conversations I had were with the cacti, and they’re prickly at the best of times.”

“Did… Was that a joke? Did you just make a joke?” Lance wheezes.

“So?” His voice turns sullen and he makes a movement which Lance interprets as him gearing up to pull away.

Lance squeezes his hand, “No, sorry!” He hisses, “It was funny, it was just… unexpected.” Keith relaxes again. “It’s probably my pheromones.”

“Hmm?”

“Omega pheromones have weird effects on Alpha. It’s the caregiver in us. Without really meaning to we have a tendency to, I don’t know, soothe?” He move his head in an aborted shake, “It doesn’t happen all the time, but we can have a propensity to ignore our own needs for the needs of the pack.”

“I figured.” Keith mutters and it sounds annoyed. Lance shifts again to try to look at him, but the Alpha stays stubbornly curled into his nape. “You always seem to ignore your feelings if the pack benefits.”

Lance feels himself fill with anger.

“Well,” he replies, waspish, “maybe if people didn’t mock me for them, I wouldn’t.”

Abruptly, Keith wriggles his hand out of Lance’s and props himself on his elbow to look down at the Omega. He’s frowning and Lance feels a drop of fear curl in his gut. He maintains eye contact with Keith, despite the Omega in him begging to submit.

“I don’t mean to.” He eventually offers.

Lance stares up at him. When Lance doesn’t make to respond, he goes on.

“I’m sorry. Emotions make me… uncomfortable. I don’t handle them well.” He looks away, then brings his eyes back to Lance’s, his cheeks pink and face open, “But I’m trying.”

Lance considers this before replying. “You’re getting better.” He eventually admits, tone soft. Keith nods and settles back down.

They’re silent for a few minutes, breathing quietly in the dim room. Shiro mutters something about food goo and Lance grins.

“He talks in his sleep?”

“Oh-ho, yeah.” Keith chuckles quietly. “The other night he was mumbling something about Kalternecker. I couldn’t work it out. Completely random stuff.”

Lance’s shoulders shake as he laughs silently and he can feel Keith doing the same. As they calm down, trying not to set the other off again and risk waking Shiro, Lance suddenly wonders why Keith can’t handle displays of emotion.

“Keith?”

“Hmm?” He presses his nose back into Lance’s nape, its tip moving up and down in an oddly soothing manner. Lance tilts his head forward to expose more of his neck.

“Can I ask about why emotions bother you so much?” The movement on his nape stills and Lance grimaces, “I mean, if you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine, it’s just--”

“When I was twelve, after my dad died, I was sent to a foster home.” It comes out in a rush and Lance holds his breath, terrified to interrupt, “There was an Alpha there, he was maybe… sixteen? Newly presented. He would,” he swallows, “he would come into my room at night.” Lance feels himself draw in a ragged breath, “He would… at first he would sit on my bed and look at me, but after a while, he’d crawl into my bed and--”

“Keith…” Lance whispers, horror spreading down his body like thick molasses, drowning him in it.

Keith sighs, wraps his arm back around Lance. Lance grabs for his hand and holds it tight, his fingers trembling, “For a while, before, he was kind. So, so kind to me that it was almost loving. He would always smile at me, hold my hand when I was missing my dad, but then he did… that. I realised I couldn’t trust the emotions I have or interpret or what anyone else puts on display. They can’t tell you the truth about a person.” Keith smiles against his neck, “And then I met you.”

Lance turns, Shiro be damned, to face Keith. Shiro rolls away from them to starfish on the small space between the bed and the wall.

“Me?” His eyes burn with angry tears for that small broken boy in his minds eye. He’d had no-one.

“You.” Keith confirms, eyes bright, “I was… With you, there’s no malice behind it. No ulterior motive. You just feel. When I came to the Garrison, I was pretty numb to it all. I don’t remember a lot except the fights and the pain and the hurt, but I also remember a bright eyed boy so full of hope with something to prove.” He reaches up and cups Lance’s face, brushing away a tear with gentle fingers, “And when Shiro came back, there you were, lit up with anger and trying to prove yourself again. In all the time I’ve known you, really known you I mean, you’ve been nothing but honest with your feelings and it just kills me when you ignore them to make us feel better. I’m sorry that I’ve been part of why you do.”

Lance’s lip trembles and Keith smiles at him. It’s almost blinding.

“I’m so sorry.” Lance breathes, reaching his own hand up to run his fingers through Keith’s hair. “I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

Keith shrugs. He keeps his voice low, but Lance doesn’t miss the way it trembles, “It’s in the past and I can’t change it, and, you know… if it hadn’t happened, I might not be here. If I hadn’t been who I was then when Shiro came into my life, I wouldn’t have been at the Garrison.” He lets out a silent laugh, but Lance can see the tears he’s keeping back, “I wanted to be a firefighter, like dad.” It sounds so small, like the boy Lance knew he’d been.

Lance pulls him in, tucks his face into his chest, and hugs him fiercely. “Does Shiro know?” He asks, worry in his tone. This is a big secret and Lance feels dread at the thought that Keith’s mate might not know. He breathes a sigh of relief when Keith nods.

“Right at the beginning when we first, uh, I might have punched him.”

“Understandable.”

Keith pops his head up so quickly to look Lance in the face, that the Omega has to dodge so as not to end up with a bruised chin. “What?”

“Keith,” he sighs, a little exasperated, “anyone would react that way. I would.” He huffs out a breath, “Fair warning, I probably will. It’s… What happened to you, it leaves scars.” Keith’s eyes travel to the marks on his face around his eye. Lance shakes his head. “I’m not talking physical scars. Emotional ones. You put your trust in that-in that monster and he--” He snarls, then throws a worried look over his shoulder. Shiro breathes quietly, continuing his sleep. “Point is, what happened isn’t your fault, and I can’t blame you for not trusting in people’s feelings. That said… you can trust in the team’s, yeah?”

And then Keith’s face does something awful. It crumbles. It’s sudden and Lance flails for a second, before pushing Keith’s nose to just below his ear as he let’s out gentle shushes and rubs his back. His tears feel hot on his skin and Lance just breaks for him. He lets loose a tidal wave of calming pheromones, making the room a safe space for this letting go.

When Keith’s breathing finally slows, he nuzzles closer, tucking himself up tight into the cradle of Lance’s arms.

“Thank you for telling me. For trusting me.” Lance whispers into his hair. He gives in to the urge to press a soft kiss there.

Keith shivers, “I do. Trust you, I mean.”

Lance smiles, “Good.”

When they eventually drift back into sleep, Shiro finds his way back to them, wrapping his arm over the both of them and snuffling into Lance’s nape.

Chapter Text

“Okay, so… what’s the plan?” Lance asks Antok as they stretch.

The Galra had been pretty fascinated in Lance’s yoga stretches and had asked Lance to walk him through them. Lance had been incredibly pleased to have someone show an interest. Not even Coran had offered to join him.

Antok grunts as they move into another position, “I would like to take the time to learn what your weaknesses are,” he explains, and Lance tries not to bristle, “and build on that. I understand from Kolivan that you are in heat, however?”

Lance almost fumbles, “Yes and no. I’m in dry heat right now. It doesn’t-I don’t have the same symptoms.”

“Humans can have more than one heat?”

“Yeah? Don’t you? Dry heats are usually brought on by stress. It makes us… not horny.” Lance shifts to another position.

“You have horns while on heat?” Antok asks, completely serious and Lance laughs, not unkindly.

“Uh, no. I mean… uhm, we don’t feel the need to procreate?”

Antok goes still, straightening out of the yoga position, “You mean humans do not necessarily need to mate whilst on heat.”

“No. Why? Is that what every heat is like for you? Regardless?”

Antok stares at Lance, “Yes.” He answers, upset clear on his features.

Lance straightens as well and approaches Antok. He is wearing what Lance can only assume is Blade-casual. It consists of a tank top and leggings. It shows far more scars and Lance feels both honour and privilege at being privy to them. Some of them are attempted claiming marks. Rings of teeth and the snatching of claws.

When Keith had been dragged away by Kolivan to begin his Blade training, Shiro had protectively accompanied the Omega to training room six. When Lance had glimpsed Antok in his work-out wear he had sent Shiro away with a promise to explain later. The Alpha had looked put out, but had pressed a quick kiss to Lance’s brow and done as he was bid, loping off to find Allura.

Lance was still blushing when he’d entered the training room.

Antok stares down at him, his expression unreadable. Lance reaches up and tugs on an ear, brushing his fingertips down over the scar to his eye. “I’m sorry,” he says, “that this was not Kolivan.”

Antok smiles at him easily, reaching his own hand out to brush Lance’s marred face, “As am I, that this was not your Alphas.” Antok quirks a brow and Lance feels a blush creep up his neck, the blush solidifies as the Galra continues, “Kolivan was quite troubled when he heard the news.”

“Oh?” He tries for casual and knows he misses his mark when Antok smile widens, cheekily.

“Oh, yes.” Antok ruffles his hair, breaking the hesitant tension, “He was most upset by the Princess’ comms notifying us of your injuries.” Lance feels his face twist, but Antok just smiles gently at him, “I sensed that, perhaps, he feels he had misjudged your Alpha’s capabilities.”

Lance looks up at him in shock, “What? Who? Shiro?”

Antok hums and steps away to grab a couple of water pouches. He slings one at Lance, who catches it without taking his eyes of Antok’s face. The Galra’s eyes sharpen.

“When he came back to the base, he was under the impression that Keith and Shiro were considering courtship of you. It is considered poor form among our species to fail to protect prospective mates.”

“He didn’t fail to protect me!” Lance snarls and Antok raises his hands. Lance can feel his hands shaking as he curls them into fists at his sides. “I insisted on continuing the mission, I was too slow. He wanted to pull back faster.”

Antok considers him to a moment before speaking again, “And that is something that Alphas do not understand.”

Lance is so shocked by the look of excitement on Antok’s face that his snarling stops dead, “W-what?”

“I do not know if it the same for humans, but among the Galra at least, Omega are supposed to be cosseted, treasured and above all, protected. Things have changed since Zarkon. We are not considered to be good fighters, we are considered weak,” he hisses the word, “but Alphas will never understand the same drive we have to protect the pack. They will posture and fight until they die, but we are a pack’s strength.”

Lance gapes at him, swallowing hard past a sudden lump in his throat. “Alpha’s protect a pack.” Lance counters, remembering it from one of his mandatory biology lessons.

“No.” The response is vehement, and the breath catches in Lance’s throat, “Alphas defend the pack. They fight and die for the pack, Omegas survive what is thrown at us and keep on living. We keep packs whole and push them to be better all while holding ourselves together, even when we think we cannot. Omegas are resilient, flexible in ways that Alphas are not and we are able to… save our own feelings for ourselves to benefit pack-life. We do it to protect them, we help to prevent heavy losses by simply being and, Lance,” he comes close to stare directly into his eyes, “you should never underestimate your abilities.”

Lance lowers his gaze to the floor. “What if I’m not strong enough?” He whispers.

Antok grins at him, “You are,” he asserts, “the Alpha that gave you your scars is testament of that. You left your own mark, little one.”

Lance returns his eyes to Antok. He senses no lie in the words, so, with his mouth pressed in a firm line, he nods.

“Good.” Antok says, straightening and rolling his neck from side to side, loosening the muscles. “Now,” he walks to the middle of the training room, leaving Lance to stare after him, “come at me, paladin.”

This, Lance can do. He’s been sparring with his team almost daily since they got here. He’s got this.

He puts the empty water pouch down and approaches the Galra, rolling his own neck and shaking out his limbs before he charges him.

He hasn’t, it turns out, got this.

Despite his size, Antok is fast. He whips away from Lance, grasping onto his arm, and using the paladin’s own momentum to throw him face first to the mat.

“Again.” He says and Lance feels the frustration at himself bubble over into anger. His canines drop and he spins with a snarl. It grows louder when Antok gives a breathy chuckle, as if he’s some kit.

He charges again, this time clocking every single twitch of the Galra’s muscles to predict his move. It works and as Antok goes to grab for him, he allows it, grasping back and using the pull to swing himself up and over onto the other Omega’s broad shoulders. He brings his free arm around Antok’s neck and squeezes, still snarling. Antok’s ears go flat against his skull and he rushes back to try and knock Lance off by slamming him into a wall. Lance holds tighter, feeling something feral settle over him at the overwhelming scent of Galra. 

The hand still locked onto his arm yanks and he’s slammed against the wall again. It loosens his own grip on the Galra’s arm enough that Antok can bring both up and over his head to grab at Lance’s shirt. The paladin had predicted this and so, as Antok’s hands settle into his clothing, he pushes forward just enough that his feet connect with the wall to send them sprawling.

Lance throws his arms away from Antok as they go down and pushes his hands into the mat. Antok grunts and tries to wriggle free, but Lance keeps a firm grip on him with his legs. As the other Omega starts to rise, Lance shifts weight to hook his foot into his elbow to knock it out again. Antok hits the mat and lets loose his own snarl. Lance bears his teeth, pulls his other leg free and sits on his back. He crosses his arms. Although it’s a childish move, it immediately turns the feeling in Lance’s chest into something more playful. Like roughhousing with his siblings and cousins.

When Antok doesn’t immediately move to throw him off, he looks down at him. He smiling, wide and unabashed. It takes Lance of guard.

“I knew you were strong.” Antok says and Lance positively preens at the praise.

Chapter Text

The Blades stay for three days. By the time they’re readying to leave, Lance’s dry heat, and Pidge’s heat, is over. Lance has also managed to organise Coran outfitting the paladin under suits with a scent suppression system replicated from Antok and Kolivan’s suits.

Keith is looking smug and self-satisfied with his training – to Lance, it looks like the muscles in his arms are more defined, though it could be a trick of the light – while Lance just feels run down. With all the training he’s thrown himself into as well as the semi-consistent running exercises and his dry heat running it’s course, all he wants to do is sleep. Maybe have a bubble bath. Fat chance of that.

Now, it’s time for team Voltron to make their next move on Zarkon.

Allura calls them all to the bridge before the Blades make their escape back to base.

Lance stands tall and straight despite his body’s protests and waits for Allura’s signature clap – her signal that she’s ready to start throwing around orders.

I’m too tired for this, he thinks. Shiro shifts closer, resting a hand on the scent gland on his back. Lance side-eyes him, but he’s watching Allura. Keith is on Lance’s other side. He doesn’t reach out to touch Lance, but he, too, moves closer.

Lance thinks it has something to do with the way the Blades are exchanging quiet words off to the side, their eyes on Lance. The Omega raises his chin.

“Alright, team.” Allura begins, standing proud and eyes alight, “we’ve had a little down time – well deserved down time – but we need to begin preparing our offence against Zarkon.”

“I thought we would just go with the original plan?” Hunk queries, shrinking in on himself a little as all eyes turn to him, “Well, uhm, you know. We already have everything ready and it would just be a case of putting it in motion.”

Allura nods, but her expression is pensive, “I had thought the same, however, I would actually prefer to hold off for a few more quintants. Kolivan has advised me that the Galra are aware of the teleduv’s construction – it’s a miracle it hasn’t been found. The fact that they know we have a giant teleduv at our disposal has caused some… anxiety among the higher ups in Galra command.”

“So it should!” Pidge crows, and Lance feels the beginning of a headache creep up his neck.

“Indeed.” Allura agrees, “However, this may put us at a disadvantage if we move it now. If we move it, we risk the Galra picking up on its energy signal. Right now, it may have been picked up and dismissed as an anomaly. I would like to take the time to obtain further intel and, perhaps, alter the signature of the teleduv to prevent its immediate discovery when it comes time to use it.”

Lance groans quietly as both Hunk and Pidge’s eyes light up with unadulterated glee.

“We can absolutely do that.” Pidge says, fire in her eyes at the prospect of getting her grubby mitts on the teleduv. Hunk is practically vibrating with agreement.

“Lance.” Allura says, and the Omega feels all eyes swing to him. He swallows audibly. “We will require several additional supplies from various swap moons. I would like you to go and get these. You have the best eye for it, and your haggling is far better than Coran’s.”

“Princess--” Coran complains, looking like a kicked puppy.

She wants to send me on a shopping trip, Lance grouches internally, I suppose I’m better out of the way. He knows it’s his own insecurities talking. Knows his worth after the Space Mall when it comes to haggling for wares. He also knows that the team values him for both his memory and his eye. He only needs to be shown something once to know what he’s going for.

His upset must show on his face. “Do not misunderstand me, Lance.” Allura says, voice hard. “I’m sending you, because these moons are… my research, and the confirmation from Antok, suggests that these particular moons are, largely, Omega moons.”

“Omega moons?” Shiro queries, and Lance can hear the frown in his voice.

“Indeed.” Antok answers, “They have become safe havens for Omegas of the Empire. Of course, it’s not only Omegas that live on them, there are a few Alphas, a few Beta too, but the majority are Omega. They would not allow unknown Alphas to approach the moons, let alone set foot on them. Lance will be the only one able to obtain the additional supplies, unless you happen upon an Alpha or Beta trader - and even then they can be... cagey with Alphas.”

He gives Lance a very pointed look. The paladin shivers. Shiro presses his hand into his scent gland a little more firmly and Keith shifts from foot to foot to hip-check him gently.

“Will I be going alone, then?” He asks, unable to supress the swell of panic in him at the thought. He sees Pidge’s nose wrinkle as it bleeds into his scent.

“No.” Allura assures him. “I will be sending you with both Keith and Shiro. I thought you could take Red – she’s the fastest.”

“She’s also the most temperamental,” Lance grumbles.

“Hey!” Keith hisses.

“Enough.” The princess pinched her brow, “I would have thought we were over this.”

“Sorry,” Lance murmurs, “I can behave.”

“Good. Let’s rest for tonight. Tomorrow we will begin.”

There’s a collective sigh at the dismissal, then Allura speaks again, “Kolivan, Antok, you are welcome to stay another night.” She offers.

Shiro and Keith both tense. Lance turns his face to try and look at them, but stops as his eyes catch on the Blades.

They’re still watching him carefully. The look is almost hungry. It unnerves him. Although he knows they wouldn’t act on anything, wouldn’t risk their alliance for a dalliance, it makes him tremble. He’s not scared of them. They have been nothing but respectful during any exchange he’s had with either one of them, but he’s also well aware that Kolivan had expressed interest in him, had suggested that Antok might feel the same upon meeting him. With the surreptitious, appreciative glances Lance has caught Antok throwing his way after training it had seemed that Kolivan may have been right. If he hadn’t already been smitten with Keith and Shiro, he may have considered them. 

He feels pinned by their gazes. He shivers when they eventually turn their attention to Allura.

“Thank you, princess,” Kolivan says, lips twitching, “but we must return to the base. Antok is…” he looks to his mate, raising a brow, asking permission, Lance realises when Antok gives the slightest of nods, “Antok is due to start his heat soon and we do not like to be caught outside our nest if we can help it.”

Allura flushes a pretty pink and stammers, “I-I-I see.”

Lance grins at seeing her feel out of her depth. It’s an usual sight, and while he feels bad for her, he does sometimes think it’s good for her to understand what it means to misstep. It’s hard to catch her off guard like this.

It helps that she spent so much time with Pidge during her heat, so she has abetter understanding of what it means.

The team splits, Keith wanders over to walk the Blades back to their ship. Lance raises a hand as they leave, feeling his heart give the tiniest of tugs at seeing Antok leave. It was… nice to have another established Omega around. It helped that Antok was a cheery kind of guy too, and laid back in a way that Lance had never thought a Blade could be. Maybe Kolivan has a type…

Shiro’s hand slips off his back and he walks over to Allura. They talk quietly to one another and Lance stretches, fingers pointing, back arching.

Shower and sleep, he thinks, making his way off the bridge and heading towards his quarters.

Other than the other night, he’s been sleeping there. It’s not that he wouldn’t enjoy a good romp in the sheets with the Alphas – he knows he would, but he’s just… not ready. The intimacy they’d shared that night, of just sleeping side by side by side, had almost been too much to handle.

The sensitivity he has over his new scars is too sharp and sleeping fully clothed was too hot. He’s not ready for anyone to see them. He doesn’t want to see them.

He scrubs an annoyed hand through his hair. It’s not about the fact he has scars. He sort-of loves his burn scar. It proves him to be a good pack-mate, a good team-mate – a good Omega. These new ones, though… they make him nauseous. He knows it’s because of their origin, knows it’s because the Omega in him is ashamed to have been marked by an Alpha he had not chosen.

“Lance!” It’s both Shiro and Keith, jogging to catch up to him. He stops and turns to them with a tired smile.

“Hey. I was just gonna go grab a shower then head to bed.” He tells them.

Shiro chuckles, “And I don’t blame you.”

“But we think we might have a better idea.” Keith says, and his eyes are bright with excitement. Lance frowns at him.

“I don’t want to do any more training.” He responds, because he’s certain that’s just about the only thing that can make Keith’s face do that.

Keith glares at him, but there’s no heat and his lips curve up in a smile. “No,” he stresses, “we have a surprise for you.” He grasps one of Lance’s hands and begins to drag him down the hallway as Shiro latches on to his other.

Chapter Text

He has no idea where they’re taking him, they’ve taken far too many turns and Lance is starting to feel dizzy. He thinks he should probably feel some token sense of apprehension, but honestly, he’s just so tired.

They stop in front of a door that Lance has never seen before. It’s ornate in way he hasn’t associated with the castle ship before. He knows, always, in the back of his mind that the ship is a castle, but truly, there’s not a lot that he’s seen to reconfirm that on a consistent basis.

“Close your eyes.” Shiro whispers, and although Lance gives him a look, he does as he is asked.

He hears the door swish open, feels humidity on his face and smells something similar to his Juniberry shampoo. The Alphas pull him forward gently and the door swishes closed.

“You can open them now.” Keith murmurs, so Lance does.

The first thing he notices is that the lights are turned low to a relaxing amber.

Then, his breath catches in his chest, because right there, is what can only be described as an Altean bath. It looks like a communal bath, there are several deep pools large enough to sit three or four people comfortably, all in varying colours with steam curling and rising from the waters. There’s a line of showers to one side and a little further down a line of sinks and mirrors. Well… he thinks they’re mirrors. They’ve been carefully draped with some kind of gauzy material. It’s a small detail, but something about the way he knows that this has been set up for him makes his eyes burn.

“H-how… I-I mean…” he trails off, heart thundering in his chest.

Shiro drops his hand to step in front of him. With gentle hands he cups Lance’s cheeks to tilt his face up to him. Shiro’s eyes are warm.

“We know how much you’ve been wanting to have a bath. You only talk about it all the time.” He chuckles, lightly and Lance’s face burns, “So we asked Allura about it and she reopened the baths for us. For you.”

Keith also lets go of his hand to press closer to his side, sliding his fingers across Lance’s back to rest on his scent gland. He doesn’t push into it, just lets his hand lay there. Lance is thankful, because he’s pretty sure his legs would give out.

“We wanted to do something for you,” Keith says, his breath skittering across Lance’s neck and making his tremble, “and, well.” He presses the fingers of his other hand to Lance’s chest, “We won’t join you, if you don’t want. This can be something just for you.”

But Lance does want. He wants to be with them all the time. It’s just…

“My scars…” he whispers, hating himself.

“There are screens we can put up, but we understand if you would rather bathe alone.” Shiro stresses, face inches from Lance’s. He hears the truth of the words.

“The mirrors… why did you cover them?” Lance asks.

Shiro’s eyebrows twitch up in a desperate way. He ducks down to press a kiss to Lance’s forehead, before withdrawing his hands. Lance feels a little bereft.

“I-I didn’t want to see my scars for a very long time – and that’s okay – I just wanted you to be able to enjoy this without--” He cuts himself off and scrubs a hand over his face. The Omega isn’t sure he’s ever seen Shiro speechless. He always knows what to say, when to say it and how. It’s a part of who he is as pack-Alpha and leader of Voltron.

“Without reliving it.” Lance finishes for him.

Shiro looks at him, his hand still over his mouth, “Yes.”

Lance considers for a moment. This is… it’s beautiful. The best gift he’s ever gotten. He wants to share it with them. He really, really does. It pulls at something in his chest that they’ve thought so hard on this. The fact that the baths have been filled shows the time and effort they’ve spent on this.

“I’m not ready to show you my scars,” he says, and he sees the way that Shiro’s face falls, feels the way that Keith's fingers twitch against him, “but I want…” he breathes, “I want this to be something we can share.” The Alphas go very still. He wonders what they’re thinking in that moment. He presses on, “I think I might have an idea, and it’s fine if you say no.”

He has to make that clear. This goes two ways… well. Three ways.

“I have no idea where we are, but I have, uhm, I have some eye masks? Back in my room. They’re pretty secure. We could-you could-I mean, if you’re both happy to--”

“Yes.” Keith breathes, nuzzling his face into his nape. He places a soft kiss there, butterfly light. A promise. “I can get them, if you want?”

Lance nods, his face pink. “They’re in my bedside drawer? The top one.”

Keith disengages from Lance and moves towards the door, but Shiro calls out to him, his eyes fixed on Lance and his arms crossed. “Keith, wait.” He’s doing the thing where he rolls his shoulders forward just slightly to appear shorter and as non-threatening as possible.

“Are you sure, Lance?”

It’s a fair question – a good one. He’s just so full of… affection for them in this moment that the thought of denying them entry to this place with him makes his blood turn cold. He doesn’t want to be in this big, empty space on his own. He doesn’t want to try all of the, no doubt, wonderful bathing pools without them.

He stares at Shiro, feels Keith just behind his back.

They are treating him with so much care, and he knows – he knows – that with, or without, the scars he bears, they would be treating him this way regardless. What they’re doing is a big risk. In theory, it could make their own relationship implode. They’re taking baby steps, and that suits Lance just fine. It would be nice if they didn’t have to – if Lance felt comfortable enough in his own skin that they could throw themselves into this and not look back, but perhaps it gives them time to learn each other that they wouldn’t otherwise have.

He’s not sure if he’s ready for this level of intimacy, but he wants to be.

“I’m sure.” He says. It comes out a little shaky, but Shiro doesn’t second guess him. He trusts Lance to tell them if he changes his mind. He won’t break that trust.

Shiro nods and Keith is gone.

They stand in silence in the wake of Keith’s departure.

Lance feels a little bit of awkwardness wash over him. He’s embarrassed that he can’t just treat this as a small thing.

Shiro reaches out with a soft smile and Lance realises that his scent must have given him away. He buries his flaming face in his hands with a groan. Shiro chuckles. It’s a throaty sound, quiet and rumbling.

“Don’t hide,” he begs, catching the Omega’s hands in his, “it’s fine. This is all new to me too.”

“Keith said the same.” Lance confesses, twining their fingers together and marvelling at how small his hands look in Shiro’s.

“Oh?” Stepping closer, Shiro releases one of his hands to run his own through Lance’s hair.

“Yeah, couldn’t keep your hands off each other, apparently.” It’s supposed to come out light, but even Lance can hear the edge of bitterness in his voice. Shiro to his credit doesn’t stiffen, just keeps petting at Lance’s hair until the very tips of his fingers come to rest on the Omega’s nape. “Sorry, no, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“It took us longer than we would have liked.” Shiro admits with a casual shrug.

“Yeah, Keith told me that as well.” There must be something in his tone, because Shiro does tense at that, his eyes going wide with shock.

He stares at Lance for a beat, face unreadable. Lance is just about ready to bolt when Shiro suddenly relaxes.

“I’m not surprised.” He says, eventually, leaning down to lightly scent at Lance’s throat and coat him in strong Alpha pheromones. It eases the knot of anxiety that had been growing in his chest. “It’s better that you know going in. I had no idea and it was a helluva shock when he hit me, I can tell you.”

It’s such a casual thing to say that nervous laughter bubbles out of Lance’s chest. He feels Shiro grin, before he pulls back, his face morphing into something else.

“I’m glad he told you.”

“I’m glad he trusts me.” Lance counters, squeezing Shiro’s fingers. “I know it’s not easy for him. I know why it’s not easy for him.”

Shiro opens his mouth, pauses for a second, mouth gaping, before finally deciding to say, “He told me, once, that you unnerve him.” Lance frowns, “I always wondered why, but I’m beginning to understand that it has something to do with how comfortable you make people.” The Omega brightens a little, but the frown stays put and Shiro pushes a finger into the light crease in his brow, “It’s a gift. Really.”

Shiro takes a deep breath and steps back. For a second Lance thinks he’s withdrawing from him completely, shutting off. Instead Shiro reaches for he hem of his t-shirt and pulls it over his head.

Lance gapes at him, then covers his eyes, face aflame. He’s seen Shiro bare-chested before, but this is different. It feels like a precursor.

A warm hand grasps one of his own still resting over his eyes. He allows Shiro to take his hand, peeking out and letting his other hand slide down to his side. Shiro is huge. Wide and well-muscled. It’s a physique that Lance longs for, knowing it’s never in the cards for him, no matter how much he trains.

Shiro gives him a vulnerable smile before pulling Lance’s hand to his chest. He holds the Omega’s hand there, lets him feel the heat of his skin, the pounding of his heart, and suddenly something clicks in Lance’s brain. He’s bearing his scars to him, for him.

It’s different from the way Antok had revealed his face. More weighted. This is so, so important.

Lance holds Shiro’s gaze for a moment, before allowing himself to fully take in the Alpha’s form properly.

Broad shoulders tapering down to biceps which Lance is pretty sure could bench press him and forearms that make his mouth water. Beautifully severe pectorals which lead to a trim waist. Defined obliques casting gentle shadows in the dim light over his ribs and down to his hips. Abs to kill for.  And overlaying all of that, scars silvered with age.

He brings his other hand up to gently trace over a scar on Shiro’s iliac crest. It’s huge and jagged.

“Shiskavol.” Shiro murmurs, looking down at the scar. “I didn’t know what it was for a very long time. Big fucker.”

Lance places his hand to another scar on his waist. He lets his fingers spread over it. Teeth marks. The Omega winces, knowing how much it must have hurt.

“Klanmuirl.” Lance shivers, recalling the time the castle was haunted and Pidge’s tale.

He rubs the middle finger of his hand still held in Shiro’s own against a ridge near his clavicle.

“Galra. Alpha.”

Another scar on his pec. Smaller than the others, but puckered like it went deep. Shiro shudders, and Lance looks up at him when he scents his distress over that one.

“Omega.” He supplies quietly, and Lance’s eyebrows draw up in sorrow.

This feels monumental. His chest feels like it might just burst. There is so much pain (torment?) in Shiro’s face that Lance’s heart bleeds for him. He leans forward to place a kiss to the mark and Shiro twitches in surprise.

“I’m glad they didn’t kill you.” He whispers, forehead against his chest, “I’m glad you’re still here with us. I know it haunts you, Shiro, but don’t let it consume you. Please.”

Shiro hums and reaches for his hair again. He moves slowly and brushes his fingers through Lance’s brown locks. He huffs out a small chuckle, breaking the odd tension in the air. Lance makes a querying noise in his throat, still resting his head against Shiro’s chest.

“Your hair… it’s curling…”

Lance’s head shoots up, his face heating again. He brings his own fingers up to grab at his hair. “It’s the humidity.” He grumbles, pouting. When he was small he’d had almost-ringlets. As he’d gotten older, he’d kept his hair shorter and straightened after a few classmates had made less than kind comments on it.

“It’s cute, is what it is.” The Alpha asserts.

Lance goes still, hand dropping to his side as he stares at Shiro. Shiro still has his other hand clutched to his chest. The air becomes charged.

He can feel Shiro’s heart beating erratically against his fingers. The Alpha gives him a small smile, his other hand still playing with Lance’s hair. Then he’s leaning down.

Lance stiffens a little, nerves bubbling in his chest, but he doesn’t withdraw. He watches as Shiro draws closer, his fingers sliding down to Lance’s nape and pressing just slightly against his scent gland. The Omega’s knees tremble in response. The Alpha places a reverent kiss to his forehead and Lance’s eyes close of their own accord. The tip of Shiro’s nose glides down his cheek. Lance sucks in a breath, chest rising and falling. Shiro’s heart beats harder, and he steps a little closer, shoulders rolling forward to keep their faces close. His lips hover over Lance’s. He lets Lance make the decision to close the distance. And this time, after a second of hesitation, he does.

It's chaste. Just lips against lips, pressing carefully, but Lance whimpers and the hand on his nape squeezes just a little. Shiro withdraws for a moment before swopping back in. He sweeps his tongue along the seam of Lance’s lips and the Omega opens for him on a whine, fingers and knees shaking.

He’s never been kissed like this. Like he’s important. It makes his heart pound and his breath catch.

The kiss is tentative, a little lazy. Shiro is holding back so as not to scare him off, Lance realises and he appreciates the gesture, but…

He wraps his arm around Shiro’s shoulders, shivers as the Alpha grumbles approvingly and presses closer to him. Shiro deepens the kiss, letting go of the hand on his chest to grasp at Lance’s hip. Shiro licks into his mouth like a man starved, runs his tongue over his teeth and the sensitive skin on the inside of his lips to dance with Lance’s. Shiro moans and pulls back, resting their foreheads together. He lets out a shivering breath.

Lance clears his throat quietly, feeling all kinds of raw.

The door swishes open again and Lance tenses.

“I have the…” Keith pauses as the door closes, “have I missed something?” His voice is a little teasing and Lance almost curls in on himself before the other Alpha is at his back, a gentle hand on the scent gland at the base of his spine. He places a soft kiss to skin around Shiro’s broad hand and reaches a hand around Lance to grip Shiro’s hip.

Through his embarrassment, Lance watches Keith’s fingers brush lovingly against another scar there.

“I have the eye-masks,” Keith tries again, his lips brushing against Lance’s skin.

Carefully, Lance turns in Shiro’s arms. The Alpha keeps a hand resting on his hip, fingers sliding against his shirt as he turns. There’s no jealousy on Keith’s face, just a soft fondness.

Lance considers him. Between the two of them, Keith has been more straightforward when it comes to physical affection. Always reaching out to touch his hand or shoulder, stealing a quick kiss into his skin. It’s something that has surprised Lance – more so knowing his past. He’s brave in a way Lance wants to emulate.

The Omega obviously stares at him for a beat too long, because his expression grows concerned.

“What?” He asks, brow furrowing, “Oh, would you rather we didn’t--”

Lance cuts him off with a chaste kiss. He pulls back, face red. Keith lets out a squeak of surprise, bringing a hand up to touch his lips, the masks dangling off his fingers.

Lance shrugs, trying to seem nonchalant, “Fair’s fair.”

Keith’s hand slides into his hair, tilting his head just slightly to plant a firm kiss on his mouth. Where Shiro’s kiss had been tentative, Keith kisses like he’s fighting. It’s rushed and dirty and Lance feels it all the way down to his toes. The Alpha pulls back with a smirk as Lance chases after him.

“Now, that was a kiss.” He says, satisfied. In a mirroring gesture of Shiro, he places a kiss on Lance’s brow, pushing onto his toes just a bit to do so. Lance nods dumbly and Shiro squeezes his hip.

Keith presses the masks into Lance’s hand. “Do you wanna put them on?” He asks.

“Uhm… it would probably be better if you both, you know, got into the baths first,” his face feels like it’s on fire, but he’s gratified to see that Keith’s face also turns a fetching shade of pink, “I don’t want either of yourselves to brain yourselves in here.”

Shiro releases a throaty laugh and moves away, stripping until he’s bare. There’s no hint of shame on his face and he grins at the two of them before stepping over to the showers to rinse down. Lance’s throat goes dry as he takes in Shiro’s back. He does not let his gaze wander to his ass, but it’s a close thing.

Keith shifts and strips as he walks to join Shiro, and he goes with a bit more swagger. Shiro’s smile grows wider as he watches Keith approach. The red paladin reaches out to drop a quick slap to Shiro’s backside and Lance averts his eyes.

They rinse themselves quickly and walk back to one of the baths.

“Do you have a preference, Lance?” Shiro asks.

“The, uhm, the pink one?” Lance offers, gaze on the floor.

“Okay.”

He hears the slosh of water as they settle and Keith lets out a groan that does… things to Lance. He takes a breath and approaches them. Crouching at the bath’s edge, he taps Shiro’s shoulder first and he leans his head back just slightly, eyes closed. Keith watches as he slips the mask onto Shiro’s face. There’s something in Keith’s expression that puts him on edge.

Once it’s secure, Shiro reaches a hand out of the water to touch at the mask at the bridge of his nose. “Can’t see a thing.” He confirms.

Turning to Keith, Lance frowns. There’s fear in his eyes.

“Keith,” he jumps, turning his face up to look at Lance more fully, “if you don’t want to put the mask on, I can think of something else.” Keith shakes his head ready to deny his discomfort, but Lance puts a firm hand on his shoulder, “This will only work if we’re honest with each other. If this is too much, I’ll think of something else. I want for us to share this, but it’s not going to work if any one of us is uncomfortable.”

Shiro blindly casts a hand out, almost hitting Lance in the face to try and grab onto Keith. His hand slots over Lance’s, their fingers tangling and some of the tension bleeds out of Keith’s frame.

“I… trust you.” Keith says. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back, pliant.

The reconfirmation of that confession hits him in the solar-plexus and he smiles as he gently secures the mask. “Okay?” He asks, needing to hear it.

“I can’t see anything.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” Lance sighs, but he grins and straightens, stripping down. “If you change your mind, you tell me.”

He stands in the shower for a little longer than necessary. It would be easy for this to turn sexual, for them to fall into each other’s arms, and while there is a low level arousal simmering under his skin – how could there not be? – it feels banked by the vulnerability in the room.

He ignores the shudder that slides down his spine when he catches a glimpse of the scar on his arm and flicks the shower off.

As he makes his way back to the bath, the Alphas tense minutely at his approach. They had been chatting lowly while Lance had rinsed off, now they’re silent. Expectant. He pauses at the bath’s edge.

They’re sat far enough from each other that Lance could slide in between them, or sit opposite them without it being too weird. The decision is made for him when, as one, the Alphas each reach a hand out of the water to him, offering their support to get him situated. With lightly shaking fingers, he takes them and slides into the water.

It’s warm, just the right side of too hot and instantly Lance’s muscles relax and he lets loose a soft moan. Their hands tighten on his briefly and he squeezes back.

“It’s good.” He says, wriggling a little to settle more comfortably into the water.

Keith slips a little lower to rest his head on Lance’s scarred shoulder. The Alpha lets out a sigh and Lance knows he made the right decision to share this gift with them.

The steam curls around them, a quiet dripping sounds from the showers. Shiro presses more firmly into his side. When Lance glances at him, he’s running the fingers of his metallic hand against his lips. Back and forth, back and forth. Lance swallows. It’s mesmerising.

The comfortable silence spreads.

There is so much trust in the room that Lance’s heart pounds with it. He wants, suddenly and fiercely. Now isn’t the time. They’ve not talked about it and Lance doesn’t want any of them to regret it. In a day they’ll be at a swap moon, haggling over wares and potentially having to find a place to stay before their next stop. Maybe they can discuss it then.

It would be easy for all of them to blame any sudden need for one another on their dynamic, but, the more Lance thinks on it, he realises with stunning clarity, that their secondary genders are just that. Secondary. It makes something warm bloom under his ribs. He would choose them as a Beta or an Alpha. He knows that down to his core. That he’s an Omega makes things easier, maybe, however his desire for them surpasses their sex or gender.

He wants to pick fights with Keith and push his buttons, wants to throw horrendously cheesy pick up lines at Shiro until he blushes, wants lazy kisses in the morning as they curl around each other to mingle their scents.

It’s a want so keen that Lance trembles with it.

“Are you cold?” Keith murmurs in his ear. He shifts to run his nose along Lance’s scent gland.

The Omega shakes his head, “Not cold.” He asserts. Keith stiffens, nose pressing closer, chasing the scent of Lance’s quiet arousal. He whines low in his throat and Shiro, ears highly attuned to his mate, swings his head around at the sound.

“Okay?” He asks, brows drawing low.

Lance squeezes his hand. “Fine. Just… thinking.” Keith whines again and his scent blossoms into something darker, more heady. Shiro’s nose twitches.

“Keith…” he warns.

“I won’t.” Keith sighs, drawing back and crossing his legs. Lance knows if he were to drop his gaze it wouldn’t hide anything. He chuckles breathily and Keith’s mouth twitches.

Maybe now is the time…

“It’s not that I don’t… that I don’t want to – it’s not even that I-I haven’t before.” Lance whispers, a bit of embarrassment colouring his words and scent, “I’m not even sure it’s that I’m not ready, it’s just--” he huffs out a breath, slumping a little in the water, “I don’t want to ruin what we’re trying to build and I have no idea how-how I’m going to react when we, you know, do.”

Shiro slides closer, shoulder pressing into Lance’s, “We’ll go at your pace, no faster. We will only do what you are comfortable with – and even then, even if you say, yes, now we can and then you change your mind, we stop, right, Keith?”

“Obviously.” He scoffs, sweeping his cupped, free hand up and over his chest to bask more fully in the bath.

“I-I know that,” Lance confesses, voice quiet, “and that means so much to me, right now. That you’d both agree to-to this, to the masks, shows that.” He squeezes their hands, “I just… I can’t give you anything.”

Shiro sighs and tilts his head back, but it’s Keith that speaks.

“You’re giving us this.” He murmurs, bringing Lance’s hand out of the water in his to press a kiss into his knuckles, “After-after what happened, this is a lot. We get it.” He stresses, voice pleading. “Anything else would just be… a bonus. We can do this at your pace. I – we – won’t ask for more from you than you are ready to give. Don’t push yourself for us.”

The tears come unbidden. They tumble down his face to mix with the bath water. His voice catches on a sob and the two of them let out a distressed noise. He tries to wave them off, remembers that they can’t see the shake of his head, or the smile trying to break across his face.

“Thank you.” He whispers, pulling their hands to his face to plant worshipful kisses into their fingers, “Thank you.”

Chapter Text

After the bath, Lance had returned to his own room. The Omega in him quailed at the idea of leaving the Alphas – his Alphas – so soon. They had mollified him with gentle kisses outside his quarters as well as a careful scenting.

God, the kissing. He wonders if initiating those first kisses has opened a floodgate.

The kisses they had exchanged at his door had been needy and tender. Shiro had held his face in both hands to kiss him soundly, quietly groaning and shivering into it as though Lance’s taste was enough to make his knees weak – and wasn’t that an ego-boost? Keith had been ruthless, licking into his mouth with abandon and pressing the Omega into the door to the point of Shiro literally dragging him off of Lance to pull him down the hall.

Kissing he was fine with. Kissing he could do with his clothes on. He’d shivered as he considered the other things he could do with his clothes on.

It’s not like he’s scared of sex, he decides – it’s not like anything really happened to make him scared of it, it’s just… this is big. He doesn’t want to ruin it before it begins and he knows he won’t be able to accept their gazes or touches on his scars, no matter how gentle and reverent he knows they would be. It feels like a betrayal when they’ve revealed so much of themselves to him in the last few days – it feels unfair.  

Physically shaking himself, he had gone about his evening routine in a daze, little flashes of arousal zipping through his frame until he’d collapsed into his bed with a sigh. It wasn’t until the morning that he realised he hadn’t so much as looked at his scars, let alone mourned over them.

Now, in the bright lights of the bridge, standing between Keith and Shiro, he rests his hands at his back and listens to Allura as she explains the power dynamic of the Omega moons.

“— from what Antok has advised, Alphas are viewed more like commodities than as people on these moons. It would be best that you are all on your guard. You will be going to a couple of moons where there is a greater mix and the structure of power is less clear-cut, but, again, be on your guard.” Allura is using her ‘royal-not-to-be-trifled-with’ voice and it set Lance’s teeth on edge. “Lance,” his spine straightens as she addresses him and he can scent the pride in the Alphas at his side, “you will take point on this mission. We need you to collect the following supplies…”

She lists the various articles off and, short of a few queries from Lance and the coordinates for the five moons they’re expected to visit, they are dismissed. He brings up the information on his data pad as Keith gets Red prepped for take-off.

They’ve opted for alien garb on this trip. It’s not as… ostentatious as the outfits Coran had picked out for the space mall, but it’s generally more drapey. 

The only long-sleeved shirt Lance had found out of the selection he had been offered is a deep shimmering blue reminiscent of the twilight sky on Varadero beach. It has billowing sleeves which are cinched at his wrists, which means, at the very least, the sleeves are secure and he doesn’t run the risk of accidentally flashing the teeth marks. The material is beautiful, soft as silk and cool as cotton, but the problem is the back. It swoops down in a deep V with a golden band at his nape preventing it from gaping. It shows off his burn scar wonderfully, but Lance keeps tugging at the collar to ensure the scar at his shoulder won’t show. The back of the shirt sweeps low enough on his frame, that he’s acutely aware of the air hitting the scent gland at the base of his spine. He’s coupled the shirt with a dark pair of what might be leggings which hang low on his hips, but the material is suggestive of their paladin under suits and they hug his legs divinely.

“I can feel you staring.” He complains, voice sing-songing, without taking his eyes of the data pad. Allura has helpfully sent across the specs and a few photos or diagrams of each item they’re expected to collect as well as further information about the moons the night before. He’s trying to commit them to memory.

Red hurries out of the hanger at Keith’s urging and Lance barely moves. They’re all so used to the movement of the lions now, that even as a passenger it takes a lot to knock them off their feet.

He hears Shiro scrub a hand over his face, and turn to venture into the back of the cockpit to properly stow their meagre luggage and petty cash. “Sorry,” he murmurs, “I’m just not used to seeing you so…”

“On display?” Lance offers, smirking a little at the groan that works it’s way past the black paladin’s throat.

He feels a little more confident today. If he had to guess, it must be down to the way the two Alphas had been so ready to bare all to him without having any expectation of Lance doing the same. The scenting and the kissing has helped too, no doubt.

To be completely honest, he’s enjoying the clothing the Alpha’s have picked out for themselves as well.

Shiro has opted for a lavender-coloured, collarless shirt which is sleeveless and open to the centre of his chest. It highlights his thick muscles in a way that Lance can appreciate. The shirt hangs asymmetrically by design, but Shiro has tucked the shorter side into the waistband of what Lance can only describe as slim-cut slacks – pockets and all! It draws Lance’s eye inexorably to his hips.

Keith has on what looks like a plain black tank top, but as he shifts, Lance thinks the damn thing twinkles. As he moves his hands to operate Red, Lance’s mouth goes dry watching the bunch and push of the muscles in his arms. He’s wearing a similar type of legging to Lance, although his are high-waisted – which Lance only knows because he’d run into the two of them on his way to the bridge and Keith had just been slipping his shirt on. He’s coupled his outfit with his usual gloves and boots and Lance has to say, they don’t look out of place.

Lance clears his throat, realising that he might have been staring for a smidge too long, if the smirk on Keith’s stupid face is anything to go by, and sets the data pad down. Shiro comes back from his packing and leans against a dash to Keith’s left, causing Keith to half-heartedly swipe at him.

“The first moon we’re going to head to is X-3-972,” he says, trying his best to come across as leaderly – leadery? Leaderish? – as he crosses his arms, “The data Allura has sent across suggests that this is a middling moon. That’s to say it’s a good mix and not too harshly skewed towards Omega-power, so it should ease us in. Ambient temperature is kept at twenty-seven degrees celsius.” He grins as Shiro groans. “Buck up, there’s no sun, you’ll be fine. We’ll be touching down on the uninhabited side of the moon and making our way over to the markets. According to the intel the Blade have collected, there is very little in the way of detection satellites with the exception of the area surrounding the markets, so we should be fine if you come in from the side closest to the planet.”  

He takes a breath, considers how to continue without it coming across as a challenge. The Alphas are attentive, waiting for him.

“While we are planet-side – moon-side – you must not stray too far from me, not until we have a better idea of what – who – we’re dealing with.” It comes out more confident than the shiver that runs down his spine would have him believe. “All the details we’ve been given suggests that Alphas on their own is a very dangerous thing. It’s possible you may end up in an arena,” Keith draws in a sharp breath and Shiro twitches, “or-or worse. Some of the data Antok had allowed us to access has made some… suggestion that there are, uhm,” he scratches at his chin, tilting his head to look at the ceiling as he searches for the right phrase, “that there are stud-farms. I don’t want either of you to end up getting caught out. I know you’re both more than capable, but Omegas can be… we can be very territorial under the right circumstances and I shudder to think what happens on these moons to unescorted Alphas.”

Shiro and Keith are silent for a beat. Lance watches them carefully.

Shiro eventually murmurs, “Is there any information in there about mated Alphas or promised ones?”

“You didn’t read the mission brief?” Lance asks, frowning.

“I did, but I… may have skipped over a few details.”

“He fell asleep.” Keith drawls, hands twitching over the controls to keep Red steady.

“I did not.” Shiro shrieks, face going pink.

“Sure. You always mumble about grape-flavoured candy when you’re awake.”

“I just--”

“Miss it, yeah, I know.”

“Anyway,” Lance interjects before they can continue bickering. It’s cute, but now is really not the time, “there was some information about Alphas mated to Omegas, but none of it is hugely promising. It seems the Galran way of partner-sharing is pretty widespread and not always as… consensual as it seems to be among the Blades. To be completely fair, maybe it’s just a space thing and not just the Galra…”

For a few moments, a slightly tense silence spreads over the three of them. Lance wonders if this might be a particularly hard mission for them. Other than the obvious difficulties of fighting against the instinct to submit to an Omega, of all people, there’s history – for both of them – which could make this challenging. Lance has his own baggage too.

“W-what about…” Keith starts, trailing off and flicking on the auto pilot to stand. He turns, catching Shiro’s hand as he faces Lance. His grip on Shiro’s hand is white-knuckled. “What if you give us a claiming mark?”

“What?” Lance feels his face go slack and the world start to tilt around him. Shiro’s hand reaches out to steady him.

“Not a Bonding mark!” Keith rushes out, hand also reaching to grasp his shoulder. “A claiming mark. A bruise. We-we wouldn’t have to do the same to you, just… would that make things go more smoothly?”

“I-I don’t know.” Lance hisses, still feeling lightheaded. “There’s nothing in the information we’ve been given.” He’s breathing too fast.

“Hey, hey.” Keith lets go of Shiro’s hand to crowd into Lance a little, He grips both shoulders and maintains eye contact, “I was just trying to give us some options. We don’t have to, I… I shouldn’t have suggested it.”

But as Lance thinks of it, thinks of them wearing a his temporary mark, he wants it. It’s something that burns in him. He stares at Keith, the little furrow between his ridiculous brows, the concern in his eyes. The way the Alpha is looking at him with a mixture of worry and fear makes Lance’s knees feel weak. It doesn’t help that Keith’s pheromones have flooded the relatively small space, all campfire comfort and rust. Lance licks his lips, clears his throat.

“I-if you two are… not opposed to it, I-I could…” he reaches his hand out to them, touching Keith’s face and gripping Shiro’s arm, “I wouldn’t mind.”

Way to make them feel wanted, Lance, he thinks, angry with himself.

However, the look of awe they turn on him makes his insides melt. They look like all their Christmases came at once, and how the hell had Lance ever thought they weren’t sure on him?

Regardless of its permanence – or lack thereof – a claiming mark is a big step. Huge. It’s also not common for an Omega to be the one to give such a mark. It’s still a big part of an Omega’s instinct to claim their partner, but generally speaking an Alpha, perhaps a Beta, would be the one to issue a claiming mark. An Alpha submitting to an Omega this way is almost unheard of, even now. It shows a huge amount of trust, and a good dose of respect.

“Are you sure this will be okay? That we will be okay?” Lance asks, eyes flitting between them, “I don’t want you two to feel like you have to for the benefit of the mission. That’s not-that’s not what I want this to be about. If we do this, I want it to be for the right reason – the only reason, really.”

“We’re not taking it lightly.” Shiro confirms, wrapping an arm around Keith’s waist. “This is… something we’ve been thinking on, a way to give you a little more control?”

“I have no interest in controlling you.” Lance says, heated. “If that’s what this is about, then no.”

“Wait, Lance,” Keiths grip tightens just a bit on his shoulders, “no, that’s not-that’s not what he means.”

“Alpha courting can be very one-sided.” Shiro explains, fingers sliding down Lance’s shoulder to grip his hand instead. He traces mindless patterns into the palm. “I – we – just thought you’d like to reciprocate our instincts a little? It’s one thing for an Alpha to claim an Omega, but I also understand that the instinct to do so isn’t really dormant for you either. If you would rather not, then we understand. It’s not about control in that sense. My mark on Keith doesn’t control him anymore than his does me, but it makes us balanced - equal.” Shiro sighs and drops his gaze to their entwined hands, “Our interest in you goes deeper than just some quick hook-up and we’d be proud to wear your mark – your Bonding mark one day – but for now maybe we could seal the promise with a claiming one?”

And who would Lance be if he refused, really? He wants them so keenly that it hurts. It hurts more knowing that, as he is right now, he cannot give them all of himself. Not yet.

They’re looking at him with so much hope, but there’s an edge to it. An acceptance of Lance’s rejection of this offer without any threat of judgement from them. They understand what a big deal this is.

His gaze drifts to their necks, to the twin, scarred marks there.

“I want to mark you.” He confesses, his voice shivering with desire. His gums itch, like his canines might drop for this. “Will you accept my mark?” He hates the formality of the question, but he’s always said, consent is sexy, and it’s never been more the case when their faces break into the most breath-taking smiles and, as one, they whisper, “Yes.”

Chapter Text

They wait until Red touches down on the moon. The atmosphere in the cockpit is anticipatory. Lance can feel the expectation thrumming under his skin. His face keeps flushing at intervals as he imagines laying a claim on Keith and Shiro. The Omega in him is purring and pacing happy circles at the idea.

My Alphas.

As Red rumbles below them, fully securing to the moon, he wonders what she’s communicating to Keith to make that face. It’s all scowl-y, but there’s a smile flirting at the corners of his mouth.

Shiro is watching Lance with dark eyes, lidded and considering. Lance stands taller, wants to confirm his worth to him, craves his approval. Shiro smiles widely at him, gaze sweeping down Lance’s form, then back up, resting on his lips.

Keith stands and moves around so that they’re standing in this odd, sort-of triangle, facing off.

Keith also sweeps hungry, appreciative eyes over Lance, but instead lingers on his neck. Without meaning to, he tilts his head, startling as the cockpit fills with admiring growls. He chirps in response, eyes going wide at the noise. The growling ceases and they stare at him in wonder.

It’s the second time he’s made such a vocalisation in their presence. It’s the second time in his life that he’s ever done it. It’s a purely Omega noise. Pleased and happy.

He glances down at his feet, suddenly nervous. The way Keith and Shiro carefully advance on him makes him acutely aware of the fact that it colours his scent. He wants to come across as confident – at least in this, but he’s just so out of his depth and his false bravado about the whole thing can only take him so far.

However, when he looks up, he knows they feel just as nervous as he does. Although it’s not a Mating mark, a claiming mark is it’s own promise. It will start the pheromonal reaction leading to a Mating mark should both – all – parties be agreeable. It will make them more attuned to one another.

From what Lance remembers from his compulsory second-gender studies, both claiming marks and Bonding marks trigger a hormonal response in all parties. While a claiming mark does it to a lesser degree, the claimant and the claimee will experience a heightened sense of awareness of the other, a deeper understanding of one another, for as long as the mark remains. It scares him as much as it thrills him to be this vulnerable with them. He knows they trust him. He trusts them.

He doesn’t feel like he’s done anything to show them that - knows they'd never ask him to prove his trust in them. Maybe he could…

“You okay?” Shiro asks, gently, and it’s then that Lance realises he tense and frowning.

He shakes himself. He smiles, tremulous. Both of them move closer and rest a hand on each  hip. He feels warmth spread from the points of contact and the thought solidifies in in his head, shining bright and blinding.

He puts a hand each over their hearts. They’re beating hard and fast and seem to jump at his touch.

He tilts his head just slightly, turning a little in their grasp to display one of the scent glands on his neck to Shiro first. He doesn’t miss the abrupt intake of breath.

“Fair’s fair.” He says, voice quiet and firm, feeling this might be a new catch-phrase, “I don’t want this to be one-sided.”

The hands on his hips twitch and he shivers. The silence becomes cloying and Lance is considering withdrawing, when soft lips graze his neck.

He groans without meaning to and Keith’s hand tightens hard enough to bruise. He raises his gaze just slightly to take him in.

His eyes are bright with want, lips pink and wet as though he’s run his tongue across them. Lance wants to kiss him. Keith leans in as though he senses his desire and tenderly takes his mouth with his. It leaves him feeling plundered. All hot tongue and quiet moans and needy gasps.

Shiro rumbles in his ear, approving, and his teeth settle high on the junction of Lance’s neck. He holds there for a moment, tongue swirling over the gland as Keith ravishes his mouth. Then his teeth sink in. Not enough to break the skin, but it does break Lance’s hold on the other Alpha’s mouth. He gasps, shuddering at the pleasure-pain and rests his forehead to Keith’s as his entire body spasms on something like an orgasm, it’s so intense. Shiro worries at the mark for a few moments, making Lance feel oddly boneless. As he withdraws, he presses a few worshipful kisses to the bruise the Omega can feel blossoming on his skin.

He tilts his head again, making eye contact with Shiro. Lance wonders, briefly, if he looks as satisfied as he does. Shiro looks like he’s glowing.

Keith is slower. It surprises Lance. He had definitely thought that of the two of them he would be going straight for the prize. Instead, he runs the tip of his nose over his gland, savouring the scent of him. Shivering, Lance’s hand skates over Shiro’s chest and finally Shiro ducks his head to kiss him.

This kiss with Shiro is full of barely concealed need. He bullies his way into Lance’s mouth with bruising force, groaning. Lance feels the vibration of it in his fingers. Lance whimpers in response and Keith's teeth latch. Shiro runs his tongue over very piece of Lance’s mouth he can get to, leaving the Omega gasping. When Keith’s teeth eventually press in, bruising him, his back arches, head falling back as he lets out a bitten off cry, that same feeling of almost-orgasm shuddering through him. Shiro presses kisses to his chin, his jaw, his neck, any part of Lance he can reach as he comes down off this odd high as Keith worries at his mark. He plants a final, solitary kiss to the bruise before drawing back.

As his eyes come back into focus, Lance glances between them. To him, they seem lit from within. Keith bares his own neck first.

“Your turn.” He rasps.

His hesitation is gone. He feels a sense of certainty settle over him, like he’s finally made the right choice.

He slips his hand up to catch at Keith’s neck, to hold him steady and leans in. As Keith had done to him, he runs his nose over his gland, dipping his tongue out to taste the scent of curling smoke and hot metal. He shivers, letting his teeth grasp into the skin there. Keith whines and tilts his head a little more.

Lance very carefully does not allow his canines to drop. It’s an effort, but an important one. He doesn’t want to turn his mark into a Mating one before they have all agreed to it. He pauses, just holding Keith firm, until he feels a tremor run through him and then he allows his teeth to grip hard. Instantly, there’s an overwhelming desire to push in hard, to make Keith bleed, to make Keith his. How were the Alphas so seemingly cool with this? A similar, muted sensation of climax rushes at him and he shudders, purring.  This time it’s Shiro’s hand that clenches his hip, while Keith’s seems to have gone lax. Shiro nuzzles into his claiming mark on Lance’s neck, rumbling. When Lance draws back from Keith, he soothes the new injury with a laving tongue. Keith’s head falls forward to rest on Lance’s shoulder as the Omega turns to Shiro.

Their pack-Alpha stares at him for a second, before deliberately baring his neck. Lance knows this must be screaming against his instincts not to submit, not give in, but there’s serenity in his expression. Lance purrs at the display, his Omega soothed, and noses into his gland, tasting the citrus burst of bergamot and woodchips there. He’s a little faster with Shiro, pushes past that want to Mate mark him with a bit more ease, but he probably worries at the mark just a little more. He shudders at the please growl that rips through Shiro’s chest, toes curling in his shoes.

When he pulls back, his knees are shaking and his fingers tremble on their skin. For a few minutes, they just breathe, scents mingled more profusely than before and sated in a way Lance didn’t realise was part of the bargain.

“Wow.” He murmurs.

Keith swallows, dazedly whispering, “Yeah.”

Shiro presses an open mouth kiss into the sensitive gland, suckling just slightly so that Lance shudders on a whimper. “A Mate mark is more intense.” He promises, smiling against Lance’s skin.

“How?” Lance whispers, incredulous. If this is how a Claiming feels… he shivers.

Keith chuckles lowly, slapping a hand between Shiro’s shoulders a little drunkenly. “Stop.” He pleads, giggles spilling forth and making Lance’s heart stutter, “Fucking pack-Alphas, am I right, Lance?”

Shiro raises his head to glare at Keith. The effect is ruined by the pout he’s sporting and Lance’s shoulders shake with his own laughter. Shiro turns his glare on him, but that just makes it worse and Lance guffaws. Shiro’s glare breaks at the sound and he smiles, wide and bright and open before ducking down to steal Lance’s lips in a kiss. He can feel Keith’s eyes on him from his shoulder.

“No fair.” He whines.

Lance breaks the kiss. “Okay, Mr. Demanding,” He says, swooping in to take Keith’s lips with his own before Keith can get out more than a “Hey,” of protest.

Shiro laughs and pulls back, hand still secure on Lance’s hip, “Marking makes him a little needy.”

As they pull out the kiss, Keith remarks, “Like you’re any better.”

Lance’s heart swells. His. For now, they’re his as long as they wear his mark.  As he runs his gaze over them, he can see that same shining pride in their faces. Pride at having laid claim to him. It’s intoxicating. He still doesn’t know how far he’s comfortable going with them, knows he’d kill to see them naked again, but for now that doesn’t matter. He can sense their awareness of him, knows his own awareness of them is burning brightly. It feels right in a way that nothing ever has. He feels a melancholic happiness spread through him, realising that what had happened can’t touch this, can’t dirty it. They will accept him as he was, as he is and as he will be.

The feeling of belonging is so profound that tears spring to his eyes.

“O-oh! Lance…” Keith whispers, voice shaking and hand trembling on his hip.

Lance pulls his hands back from them to cover his face. “Good tears,” he promises, “happy tears.” His shoulder shake with withheld sobs. “Oh, God, it’s stupid.”

The hands on his hips withdraw to run through his hair. Keith plants a kiss on his mark.

“We understand.” Shiro says, dropping a kiss to the crown of his head. “I think I cried for a good thirty minutes after Keith and I bonded.”

“Try an hour and thirty.” Keith murmurs, nose pressed to Lance’s skin, inhaling deep.

“Alright tough guy! And how did you fare, hm?”

There’s a pause, “So, I might have cried too…” Keith admits.

They hold him gently, just pressing gentle kisses to anything they can reach until finally his tears slow and he feels like he can breathe around the band of happiness squeezing at his chest.

“I’m okay.” He whispers, voice still watery. Raising his eyes, he sees them smiling at him with so much affection it nearly starts him off again.

“Thank you,” Shiro murmurs, pressing his lips to Lance’s in a chaste kiss, “for allowing us to mark you, too.”

“It’s more than we would have ever asked for.” Keith adds, tracing a finger over his mark again.

Lance nods, “I know. It’s… it’s what made it so easy to give.” He feels himself flush hotly, even as he knows with absolute certainty that his words are true.

Each of the Alphas grumble at him, affection and… something like love colouring their scents. It’s heady.

The time they have here has to end. They still have a mission to complete. With great disappointment, they pull away from the tight circle of contentment they’ve contained themselves in. Stepping away from them and beginning to prep to head out pains him physically and he has a moment of light-headedness as he realises that they’re going out into the unknown so soon after this oasis of intimacy. Then Keith’s hand slips into his and Shiro wraps a warm arm over his shoulders and everything settles.

He squeezes Keith’s hand and presses into Shiro before straightening his shoulders, “Let get this done.”

Chapter Text

They’re stopped at the trading post’s entrance, and he and Shiro are given a suspicious side-glance, but they’re let through without much fuss.

When they enter, it’s incredibly noisy. Keith thinks that the shared intimacy in Red’s cockpit and the quiet journey over make it worse. He’s never been one for crowds… or people for that matter – see: lived in a shack in the desert – but as he watches Lance, expecting to see trepidation or fear, he thinks that maybe his discomfort is something he can live with if it means Lance will be smiling like that the whole time they’re here.

He's taking everything in. The gaudy lighting, the wares, the people. At a glance it looks like he’s just enjoying it, but when Keith looks closer, he can see Lance’s gaze take on a discerning quality. He’s checking escape routes, noting weapons and potential threats. It’s one of the things the team most values him for – it’s why he’s their Sharpshooter.

Lance comes across as having an inattentive attitude, but he is incredibly astute at assessing a situation. Keith is far too hot-headed and relies on his instinct too much for him to be much good at this assessment Lance is currently doing.

“We’ve definitely had worse.” Lance mutters, just loud enough for them to hear. “Let’s find accommodation first. This is the largest swap-moon, so I think it’s relatively safe to assume they’ll have a lot of what we need. I’m hoping to minimise our time on the Omega moons, if we can, and completely avoid the more… unsavoury ones, if possible.”

“Where do you think we’ll find rooms?” Shiro asks.

Keith glances at him. Before he was taken by the Galra, Shiro had enjoyed busy places. He’d taken Keith way out of his comfort zone on more than one occasion to malls and fairs to play hooky – that’s right, hooky – but now, Keith can see the tension around his eyes. Although Shiro would never admit it, he’s rattled being around this many people. Keith thinks it has to do with the noise in the arena, something about the general commotion of a crowd immediately sets him on edge. Though he hides it well, he knows his mate. He can see the masked unease in his frame and notes the way Shiro will flinch infinitesimally when someone steps just a little too close.

Lance’s scent suddenly takes on a soothing quality.

Keith’s gaze returns to him and his heart leaps in his chest. Lance is watching Shiro carefully. The other Alpha hasn’t noticed the look, but his shoulders drop just a bit in response to the calming pheromones gently surrounding them.

Lance looks away from Shiro and back out towards the signage. He squints a little. Keith follows his line of sight, but nothing stands out to him. It’s all in Galran or some other alien language, but Lance must see something he recognises, because he points and starts moving again.

They follow him closely and Shiro, when Keith throws a glance his way, is now wearing a relaxed smile.

They stop in front of what Keith can only describe as an information desk. The alien behind the counter is pretty, with shimmering, pale teal skin and lavender eyes. She’s chatty, too. The Alpha feels a swell of jealousy at the way she gives Lance an appraising look, half expecting Lance to start throwing out cheesy pick-up lines in response, though when he looks at Omega, he just smiles at her politely and asks for the directions to the nearest inn with a vacancy.

The alien shifts her gaze to Keith and Shiro. A shiver runs up his spine and he frowns. While the way she’d interacted with Lance had been flirty, the way she looked at them was downright hungry. He takes in a subtle breath, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth. Omega, his senses tell him, or this alien’s equivalent, at any rate.

“And the Alphas?” She queries.

Lance’s shoulders straighten and his voice is firm as he responds, “My Alphas will room with me.”

Keith thinks he does well not to whip his head around as the not-so-subtle possession in Lance’s tone.

Delicately, the alien clears her throat, scrolling through a data screen, “Hmm. Our options are limited for Alphas not bonded to an Omega,” she says, as if Shiro and Keith aren’t standing right there, “I can see you have claimed them, though, so you might be best to try Sakcha’s place.” She leans out of her little booth and points up one of the streets. “If you go down this row, here, and take a left you should find a pink building, beside that is an alley, cut through there and Sakcha’s is directly opposite. Big sign on the front in red, you can’t miss it.” She pulls herself back in and smiles at Lance, ignoring the Alphas. Keith can sense the way Shiro bristles. “Tell him Inalia sent you and you shouldn’t have any problems negotiating a rate.”

Lance nods, looking back down the street, eyes scanning the area. “Thank you.” He says.

“No problem.” She calls back to him as they start off down the way they’ve been directed.

They’re about three buildings in when Lance’s step falters and he huffs out a sigh, his shoulders sagging, “This is going to be a long mission,” he groans.

“Uhm.. how did you know she would be the best to ask about accommodation?” Keith asks, genuinely curious.

Lance throws a bewildered glance his way, “Well, I mean we’ve been in space for how long? Nine or ten months? I’ve had to do something with my downtime.”

When Lance doesn’t elaborate further, Keith presses, “That doesn’t really give me an answer…”

They get to the pink building – it’s an eyewatering colour – and turn down the alley. Lance’s eyes continue to take in everything around them and he’s the only one of them that doesn’t startle when something that could pass as a cat jumps out of what might be a dumpster.

“I’ve always had a… flair for languages. I’ve been speaking Spanish since I could talk and, I don’t know,” he shrugs, “I thought learning some of the languages out here might come in handy. Pidge is better at it than me, but I suppose that’s no real surprise. She’s working on a translation bug that’s a bit more portable than the helmets, but it’s slow going with all the other projects we keep pushing her way. I thought I could at least try and follow through and be a bit more useful planet side. I can pick out key phrases and I can communicate if I need to, I think. I know the translators in our helmets do a lot of the work for us, but you never know when we might have to go without.”

Lance stops at the end of the alley, casting a quick look down the street both ways before crossing to the building opposite. The alien wasn’t lying when she said they wouldn’t miss it. It looks like it’s made out of the usual kind of materials they tend to see out here, but it’s seen better days. There’s evidence of decay spidering down the walls and a few pockmarks from blasters. Regardless, the windows are glowing warmly and the sign is bright.

Keith is still mulling over what Lance has told them. It seems so strange to him that this isn’t something he’s been bragging about, something he’s been holding over their heads and mocking them for not considering – though perhaps it’s more surprising that Pidge hasn’t. Besides the fact that it would explain where Lance will disappear to after training without a trace, it also opens Keith’s eyes to a side of Lance he rarely sees.

In their days at the Garrison, Lance had been so studious it was painful. He had tried so hard to be the best in every exam – and he would have been if not for Keith. Where it comes easy to Keith, it doesn’t for Lance. It’s not something Keith’s proud of, but he’s never had trouble retaining information for exams. Lance had always seemed to only just be keeping himself above water.

There were days that he remembered Lance showing up tired with his smile dulled. When they’d met again, the Alpha was under the impression that maybe Lance had stopped trying so hard, that he was more comfortable with who he was and what he could achieve. Keith mourns that he hadn’t been in any state to offer Lance any kind of friendship back then, when he probably needed it the most.

As they reach the door and Lance goes to open it, Keith blurts, “You’re amazing, Lance.” Lance and Shiro look at him sharply and he continues through the little ball of anxiety knotted in his chest at their gazes on him, “I mean it. It’s not occurred to me to try and pick up any of the languages, written or spoken, out here. The fact that you’ve seen this as a weakness in the team shows just how integral you are to us as a unit.”

The Omega gives him a shaky grin and rubs one of his hands over the back of his neck depreciatively and casting his eyes to one side, avoiding Keith’s gaze, “To be completely fair, Pidge started it. When the castle was haunted, she was trying to learn Altean, I just, kind of, tagged along after. Seemed a good way to pass the time and the castle library has so many books that I couldn’t read.”

Keith steps into his space, grasping onto his free hand, “Even if Pidge started it, the fact that you’re continuing it is amazing,” he says, “It’s something you should be proud of. If you hadn’t been learning this, Shiro and I wouldn’t have known where to start, right Shiro?”

“Mhm.”

Lance casts a look at both of them. There’s a large dose of uncertainty in his face, like he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing or that he doesn’t think that what he’s been doing is all that impressive. Abruptly, Keith is almost overcome with the need to explain exactly how much the team value him, explain how all the little bits and pieces of the things that make Lance Lance are so priceless and so, so needed, but he doesn’t have the words. He turns pleading eyes to Shiro for help.

“You did good.” Shiro says and Keith squawks at him, indignant, though when Keith returns his eyes to Lance, he’s wearing a soft smile and a blush.

How did that work?

Although a part of him is outraged that none of his words seemed to reach the Omega, perhaps they laid enough of a foundation that Shiro’s simple confirmation could drive the point home.

Chapter Text

Sakcha, it turns out, is a large Alpha. Shiro’s hackles immediately raise at their meeting. The way Keith is glaring at the inn-keeper suggests that he’s feeling uneasy as well.

Sakcha is of a size to rival Antok and a little wider. As far as Shiro can tell, he’s at least part Galra. His eyes have the same golden sclera with no discernible pupil. The rest of his appearance, however, is more mixed, so perhaps Shiro’s appraisal of him is off. He looks almost reptilian, with large jaws full of sharp teeth and no visible ears. Although his skin is scaled, it’s not dull or harsh looking. It puts Shiro in mind of the Giant Day Geckos he’d seen at the zoo in Yokohama as a child, bright and entrancing.

Shiro can feel Lance’s hesitancy at sleeping in an Alpha-owned inn and he wants to be able to offer him some comfort. He shifts closer, pressing a strong hand to the scent gland at the base of his spine. Shiro’s mouth twitches as the tension running through Lance subsides enough for him to secure a room.

“Inalia told us you would be able to give us a good rate.”

Sakcha looks them up and down. His gaze is evaluating, but not cold. “Your Alphas, too?” he asks, voice hissing.

“Yes. I have claimed them.” Lance confirms, shoulders straightening. Shiro feels a bubble of pride swell in him at being referred to as Lance’s Alpha.

“But you have not mated?” Sakcha presses. If he had eyebrows, they’d be raised.

“Not yet.” The Omega replies with an easy shrug, “I have some… complications.”

The Alpha digests this, gaze fixed on Lance, the way he holds himself tall and doesn’t break eye contact. He must see something in it, because he nods and collects a key from behind the desk.

“You are lucky I still have this room available,” he murmurs, not unkindly, “room three. I hope you will find it to your liking.”

“And the payment?” Lance asks, grabbing for the key.

Sakcha shrugs, folding his large arms over his equally large chest, “Six-hundred GAC.”

Shiro nearly baulks, but Lance counter offers with, “Three-hundred.”

“Five-fifty.”

“Three-fifty.”

“I can go to five.”

“We’re not dependent on your hospitality, so my last offer is four-hundred GAC.”

Sakcha’s eyes narrow and Shiro resists the desire to pull Lance behind himself. Protect. Then the Alpha surprises them all by bursting into laughter.

“Fine,” he says, still smiling, “fine, you win. Four-hundred GAC.”

Shiro stares at Sakcha. This is… odd behaviour for an Alpha – at the very least the types of Alpha that Shiro knows. Omegas challenging Alphas isn’t unheard of, or even all that uncommon, and most Alphas are able to suppress their instinct to dominate but unknown Omegas? That can be dangerous territory.

Lance seems taken-aback, though he doesn’t comment and, instead, hands over the money.

“Please don’t take offence, but I assume you’ve not been to an Omega moon before?” Sakcha asks quietly, as they shoulder their bags, ready to head to the room. Shiro tenses and the other Alpha tuts, “I ask only because your Alphas have claimed you as well.”

Lance glares, stepping forward, “And?”

“Here on the moons, it’s very, very unusual for an Omega to allow Alphas that control over them, that power.”

The Omega scoffs, then an odd look comes over his face as he considers this. He throws a look over his shoulder at Shiro and Keith that makes Shiro feel restless. “Will this cause us problems?” He asks.

Sakcha huffs out a sigh, “Not within these walls, but I cannot vouch for others on the moon. There are some who see it as a weakness in the Omega and others that think Alphas are nothing more than breeding stock.” Lance shivers and Keith reaches out this time to press a careful hand to his shoulder. The Omega relaxes at the touch. Sakcha pulls the collar of his shirt to the side to reveal a Bond mark, “My Omega gave me this and every day I am grateful that she allowed me to mark her as well. It is… harder for other Omegas to stake their own claim when the bond is equal.” He explains.

Then Lance does something none of them had expected, despite the new revelation on the way to the inn. He speaks in, what Shiro assumes to be, this particular alien’s native tongue. Sakcha moves abruptly enough to come more fully around the desk in his excitement, that Shiro growls. The alien stills, watching him carefully.

The language Lance speaks is hissing and oddly lilting.

Sakcha responds with a grave face and Lance’s shoulders draw up in what Shiro thinks might be affront, though the scent the Omega releases is one of distress. Beside him, Keith bears his teeth, canines dropped. Lance throws his arms out to prevent them attacking Sakcha, sensing the way their protective pheromones fill the space. The Alphas still, watching the exchange.

Keith is frowning hard, clearly trying to gauge what they are discussing and not liking it one bit that he can’t discern a whole lot from the body language on display. However, when Sakcha’s expression melts into something akin to understanding and he offers what might be an apology, Shiro thinks he might get it.

Shiro reaches his hand across to Keith’s on Lance’s shoulder and twines their fingers. Keith relaxes just slightly. Sakcha watches the touch with interested eyes as he continues to converse with Lance in hisses.

Lance goes suddenly tense, then relaxes completely. He laughs and ducks his head.

“And how is it you know Cintarian?” Sakcha asks, bringing the Alphas back into the conversation.

“We get around.” Lance offers with a grin, “Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to get settled. We have a few pieces to pick up in the markets and we’d like to get them quickly, if we can.”

“If you have a list, I may be able to offer some insight on where is best to go?”

“Thank you for the offer, but I’m sure we’ll be able to find our way.” And with that, Lance disengages from the conversation, starting down the hallway with Shiro and Keith in tow.

When Shiro glances at Keith, he grins. His face is filled with awe so profound it makes Shiro’s heart clench. He cannot believe how lucky they are that Lance has chosen them, has agreed to try with them. It feels like a fantasy – more so when Lance had willingly offered his own glands up for marking.

Even in his wildest day-dreams about the blue paladin he had never let it go that far, knowing that even entertaining the thought would leaving him hungry and gasping with want.

And now, here he is, humming something under his breath as he slides the key into the lock and opens the door to their shared room, wearing their claiming marks. It’s dizzying.

As soon as the door hisses shut behind them Shiro is going to kiss him senseless. Mission be damned.

Turns out Keith has the same thought, because as soon as the door closes, Keith grabs Lance by the hand and spins him around to capture his lips. Shiro crowds against Lance’s back nuzzling into his nape. He drags them all further into the room, depositing their packs on the floor as they go.

Lance giggles as he comes up for air, “Woah, slow down, Samurai.” He murmurs, but there’s no demand to stop.

He wriggles in their arms to wrap an one of his own around Keith’s shoulders while his other his hand grasps at Shiro’s hip behind him, clenching. Keith swoops in for another kiss, long and deep and dirty. When Lance groans, Shiro presses closer to him, hands on his slight hips and face in his hair. He grumbles happily.

“You-are-so-fucking-incredible.” Keith whispers between kisses.

Then his hand is in Shiro’s hair, pulling him forward to press hard kisses to his mouth. Keith’s canines haven’t receded, they catch at his lips and tongue feverishly. Shiro moans, voice hitching and circles his hips into Lance.

The Omega goes very still and Shiro cants his hips away, blood turning cold. “Sorry,” he gasps, “sorry. I didn’t think.”

Lance takes a shuddering breath as the Alphas release him. Shiro whines at the scent of Lance’s sadness and his hands twitch at his side with the desire to comfort him. The Omega turns away from them to sit on the bed. He leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees and covers his face with trembling hands. His shoulders shake.

Keith moves first.

He walks to the bed and stand in front of Lance. Carefully, he reaches out to pet gently at his hair. Lance twitches, but doesn’t pull away and Shiro watches as Keith slowly kneels in front of the Omega. He places his hands on the side of Lance’s knees and ducks to try and get a look at his face. His hands are in the way and Keith leans in to press soft kisses to his fingers.

Shiro, after calming his own worry at his faux-pas, moves forward to join them. He stands on Lance’s periphery and reaches out to put a hesitant hand on his shoulder in quiet support.

“It shouldn’t be this hard.” Lance rasps, voice wet with tears, “I’m just so… angry with myself.”

“Oh, baby.” Shiro murmurs, sitting beside him on the bed and wrapping an arm over his shoulders. “Don’t be. Please. We don’t… we don’t expect anything from you.”

“That almost makes it worse.” Lance mutters, curling in on himself. “If you expected something, I’d have more of a reason to feel like this. You’re both being so patient.”

Keith clears his throat, “Do you… do you not want us to be patient with you?”

Lance stiffens and drops his hands to stare at him. Shiro casts a glare at his mate. Keith ignores him, watching Lance’s face with a hard intensity. Something lights in Keith’s eyes, a fire that Shiro’s only ever seen when he’s about to pull off a seriously risky move with Red.

“Lance,” He says, voice firm, “if you tell us to stop, we stop. That’s all there is to this. We will not be disappointed with you for whatever you’re willing to give, okay? What did you say to me, huh? ‘It’s not going to work if any one of us is uncomfortable’? Trust us with you, too.” His eyes dance across Lance’s face, “We will take whatever you can give us and no more. If it’s just making out, great, I like making out with you, but don’t ever think we’ll take it further if you don’t want to.”

Shiro hears Lance swallow and looks down at him. He’s still trembling, though it doesn’t seem to be as bad.

“I trust you.” He whispers, so quiet, Shiro’s ears strain to hear it, “I do. I just-” He sighs, “I can’t-every time I can see that-that Alpha,” he spits it like a curse; maybe it is, “bearing down on me and my body just… seizes.”

Keith nods, understanding in a way that Shiro wants to be. It’s all he can do not to impotently howl at the sky at what has been taken from these two.

Keith shifts to slide his hands a little further up Lance’s legs, fingers just barely brushing the Omega’s hips. “If I could, I’d erase those memories for you.” He confesses, then shrugs, eyes still locked on Lance’s face, “I can’t, so… would you let me – let us – try and replace them for you, little by little. I promise you, it becomes easier. The things you’re feeling now, they’re valid, they’re well earned, as long as you trust us, that’s all we need from you.”

Shiro feels a tremor run down his spine at those words.

After he and Keith had first tried to be intimate, when he’d received a bloody nose for his troubles, he’d told Keith the same. If you trust me, that’s all I need. I don’t need anything else from you. He still remembers the way Keith had trembled in his arms.

Lance inhales shakily and reaches a hand out to grip onto Keith’s shirt, “I-I want to try, I just. I don’t know how when he’s all I can see whenever--” he cuts himself off with a shudder.

Shiro squeezes his shoulder, “You will find no judgement here for whatever you’re feeling or thinking,” He says, releasing calming pheromones, “I promise.”

Keith frowns up at Lance, gauging his reaction. Carefully, he leans forward and up to push his forehead to the Omega’s. “I wish we’d told you we wanted you sooner.” Keith murmurs.

Lance presses back and reaches a hand to cross his chest to grasp at Shiro’s fingers on his shoulder.

“I wish,” he swallows hard, “I wish it had been the two of you give me my first marks.”

That confession feels like a punch in the chest to Shiro and he feels tears spring to his own eyes. The way Keith wraps his arms around Lance’s hips and presses closer to him tells Shiro he feels the same way. The younger Alpha nuzzles into Lance’s stomach.

“Us, too.” Shiro admits, pushing his face into Lance’s hair and inhaling deeply. “And while we can’t change what’s already happened, I promise no other Alpha will come close enough to mark you again.”

Lance raises his head to look at him. Shiro keeps his face open, allows Lance in to see his certainty in his statement, tries to prove himself worthy of Lance’s faith. Of his love…

His eyes dart over Shiro’s face, searching for a lie in his words. When he finds none, his full lips twitch up in a smile and he nods, planting a hand between Keith’s shoulder blades and squeezing Shiro’s hand.

Chapter Text

Heading into the markets again is harder than Shiro thought it would be.

His desire to guard the Omega warring with the knowledge that they had a mission to complete. He feels on edge the second the leave Sakcha’s. He can’t remember if he’s ever felt a need to protect like this before. Equal parts wanting to lock Lance away and show him off.

He’s still digesting the fact that Lance is apparently fluent in Cintarian. How many other languages has he been quietly learning when none of them were paying attention? He’s underestimated Lance. They all have.

While they’ve been using downtime to train or improve their tech or just do nothing, Lance has been shouldering this unknown weakness for them. It’s apparent that he’s got a knack for it. It shouldn’t come as a surprise. Out of all of them, Lance is the best at communicating and he tries so, so hard when they’re planet side to completely immerse himself in the culture. It’s something Shiro never has time for. As their leader, he’s busy following Allura’s example to better improve their diplomatic influence and promote Voltron. The others tend to use planet time as a way to goof off – and that’s what he thought Lance had been doing too, but as he thinks about it, he can’t remember Lance doing anything other than haggling for the knick-knacks he’s so fond of.

Is that when it started? This desire for him to prove his own self-worth to the team?

A big part of Shiro is ashamed to admit that he genuinely didn’t think that Lance thought too hard on that kind of thing, that he just inherently understood how much he means to them all. Perhaps that’s something they can work on. It’s not about holding any of them in higher regard, but maybe this uncertainty in Lance has been festering quietly while they all just… didn’t realise.

He watches Lance surreptitiously as he haggles with a storeowner in yet another alien language (this one guttural in a similar way to Galran) over something-or-other. It’s shiny and coiled and Shiro has no idea what it is or what it’s used for - he's a pilot, not an engineer.

This is an Omega stall, the fifth they’ve visited. He sees the way that the owner runs an appreciative eye over Keith and steps across to block his view of his mate. The owner glares at him and the haggling gets more heated. When Shiro casts his eye back to Lance he’s taken-aback to see his canines have lengthened. Lance barks something at the owner as he snatches the item and hands the cash over, grabbing Shiro and Keith’s arms before stalking away.

“Lance…” Keith says, but Lance ignores him, continuing to drag them to another section of the market. He storms inside.

“Good day,” he says, curt, “do you have any thermal regulation systems available?”

It’s a one-eighty from how he’d begun negotiations at the other stalls. Again, this looks like an Omega stall and as Lance’s shoulders tense when the Omega turns her gaze to the two Alphas, Shiro thinks that maybe he understands why Lance had blown up at the last one. The look from the Galran Omega makes something in him flutter uneasily.

“We do.” She grabs a few pieces from behind her and drops them onto the table, “This one is--”

Lance points at the middle one of the three in front of him, “This one. Your best price?”

“Two-hundred GAC.”

“One-fifty.” He counters, frowning at the woman.

She narrows her eyes at him, sliding he gaze over to Shiro again. She says something in Galran. He assumes she thinks that none of them will understand her. Lance does. He shudders and his fists clench. The Galra doesn’t notice, too busy running her eyes over Shiro like he’s a piece of meat.

As Lance opens his mouth to respond, Shiro’s hand darts out to tug on his sleeve. Lance tenses for a split second, turning his face enough to look Shiro in the eyes. There’s a rage burning there, bright and fierce. It shocks Shiro. He has grown to expect hot flashes of anger with Keith, but not Lance, not really.

Lance pauses. Taking a deep breath, crosses his arms and faces the storeowner again, “One-seven-five or I’ll go elsewhere.”

She returns her gaze to him. Pursing her lips, she nods, holding out a hand for the money as she passes over the regulation unit.

Lance carefully puts it, and the shiny coil, into Keith’s pack and they duck out of the stall. He stands just outside for a moment, both hands on his hips as he takes a few deep breaths. Keith presses a gentle hand to the scent gland at the base of his spine and Lance almost instantly relaxes, tilting his head back.

“Sorry. It’s just.. these Omegas, man. They’re… deplorable. The things they’ve said. I can’t take it anymore.”

Shiro pulls close and kisses Lance’s neck. “Shall we take a break? Get some food?” He offers, trailing his nose up to scent just behind the Omega’s ear.

Lance shivers pleasantly, tilting his head forward to allow the gentle scenting. Shiro rumbles.

“I could eat.” He says, giggling a little as Shiro snuffles into his hair, tickling him.

This is better, this powdered sugar scent of Lance’s uncensored happiness. It rolls off him, making Shiro’s knees tremble. Much better than burnt apple pie.

A few aliens turn their way at the display, and a few more mutter among themselves. However, when Lance straightens to scan the area for an eatery, he ignores them. Instead he just raises his hand advising, “Food quarter’s that way, best I can tell.”

They follow him diligently as he leads them down a couple of weaving streets until they hit the food quarter. It’s busy, so Shiro assumes it must be a regular meal time of some description. Lance takes a few moments to decide where they should eat, they trust his instinct on this one – particularly after the purple egg incident.

As Shiro recalls, Omegas have a remarkably sensitive sense of smell. It helps them to better perceive a pack’s wellbeing. While Alphas are attuned to physical threats, Omegas are capable to weeding out weaknesses in the pack before they become an issue. It’s incredible. Shiro has never thought much on it before, not really. He’s always done his best to protect the pack in the ways he can, but Lance takes on everyone’s burden as his own, making it a lighter thing to carry. It’s not that he’s never taken stock of it, it’s more that he’s taken Lance’s ability to stabilise them for granted.

They wander over to a vendor and Lance strikes up a conversation about the food they serve. While it looks good, one of the main things they’ve all learned from their time in space, is that just because it looks good, doesn’t mean it’s fit for human consumption.

It’s been a hard lesson to learn.

“Please take a seat, I will bring you your meal.”

“Meals.” Lance corrects with a smile which looks saccharine, but Shiro can see the way it doesn’t light up his face, the way his canines are longer than usual. The server nods at him with a frown and Lance guides them to sit at a long bench. Shiro flanks one side of Lance while Keith sits on the other.

Shiro doesn’t miss the way that a few patrons get up and leave.

“Lance…?” Shiro prompts, brows drawing low as he takes in more than a few people staring at them.

“I’m aware, Shiro. Let them look.” He reaches his hands out to grasp theirs where they rest on the table.

While it doesn’t diminish the anxiety running rampant in Shiro’s chest, the gesture does bring him a sense of comfort.

If this is the ‘easier’ of the Omega moon, Shiro’s not sure he wants to visit the others. At all.

“I’m planning to get us off this moon as soon as possible,” Lance suddenly says, watching the aliens around them through his lashes. His mouth barely moves, “I don’t want to be here any longer than we have to, and I hate the way everyone is looking at you both.”

Keith leans down to press his mouth to Lance’s ear and confess, “It’s making me feel hunted.”

Lance nods in response and squeezes their hands a little tighter. “Don’t leave my side.” Shiro leans back a little to take him in. His shoulders are tense, the very tips of his hair tremble as if he’s shaking. “I mean it.” Lance continues, eyes still on the crowd around them. “If you do, I have no idea what will happen. I know it’s not exactly what we’re used to, secondary-gender wise, but it’s my job to keep you guys safe as well. What Sakcha said about breeding stock,” he sneers, shivering, “God. I don’t want that to happen to you.”

Shiro squeezes his hand, “Hey,” he ducks his face to try and catch Lance’s eyes, shakes his hand a little when the Omega continues his silent scanning, that does the trick and Shiro smiles gently, “we’ll be okay. Nothing is gonna be a strong enough lure to get us away from you for while we’re here, okay? The whole place,” Shiro turns his gaze out across the food plaza, drops his gaze when he catches another Omega staring at him, “it gives me the creeps.”

Lance’s mouth turns up sadly as Keith buries his face into his neck, clearly just as uncomfortable.

The server brings three plates. She drops the plates in front of them, spits something in her native tongue and stalks off.

Lance’s shoulders tense then relax. “Eat quickly.” He tells them.

Chapter Text

The second trip into the markets brings them to the Alpha quarter. Why they couldn’t find this area first, Lance doesn’t know. The atmosphere is different and, though the Alpha storeowners seem happy enough to deal with him, he can sense their unease. It makes him feel sick.

Keith and Shiro stick close enough to him that he can feel their body heat through the thin layers of their clothes. In any other situation, he would probably get annoyed with them assuming that they were trying to mollycoddle him. He knows that this is just them doing as he’s asked, trusting him to offer them some kind of protection against whatever the hell kind of Omega-archy is happening here

He ducks into another stall and puts a winning smile on his face. The stall owner immediately stands, panic on his face. His eyes fill with fear and Lance’s heart breaks. The Omega throws his hands up in an attempt to look non-threatening.

“Just looking to trade.” He says, voice pitched soft and Keith pushes past him into the store. He slots himself just in front of Lance, eyes twitching over the Alpha owner trying to gauge if he’s a threat. It’s only then that Lance realises that the way he’s holding his hands up to his shoulders may come across as a response to danger as opposed to an offering. “Keith.” Lance hisses, grabbing hold of his hand, “It’s okay, he’s just scared.”

Keith’s gaze becomes more considering as Shiro comes alongside Lance.

“Would you prefer to deal with us?” Keith asks carefully, gesturing at him and Shiro. The boy – and Lance realises he really is just a boy – looks at him.

As far as Lance can tell, he’s Galra – at the very least part Galra. The more Lance meets, the more surprised he is that Keith has gotten away with passing as human. He’s very pretty. Fine, velveteen hair – fur? – covers every part of him that Lance can see. His face has an androgynous quality, with big wide eyes glowing gently golden. There are slightly darker markings in his fur and around his eyes which put Lance in mind of the Bengal kitten his sister had. As the boy looks at him again, Lance very carefully, turns his eyes downwards in submission.

He wants to make this poor kid feel safe. That his immediate reaction was fear to Lance’s presence hurts more than it should.

“I’ll stay here, enough away from you that I can’t reach you, but close enough to them.” Lance says. He peeks out from under his lashes, to see both of his Alphas looking at him with an odd expression between pride and sympathy. “I’m sure you can understand my desire not to leave my Alphas unattended.” He quirks his eyebrows at the boy. Slowly, his shoulders relax and he nods. “If you would rather deal with them, I understand, but they’re not totally sure on what it is we’re looking for, so I would like to be able to see the wares myself, if that’s okay?”

The boy’s face does something complicated as he looks at Lance. It flits through a cycle of emotions before finally landing on determination. It makes him look even younger.

“How can I help?” He asks, voice cracking over the words in his nervousness.

It’s Shiro that speaks this time, “We’re in need of--”

Lance tunes them out, trusting the Alphas enough to explain their requirements, even if the final decision on what they actually buy is on Lance’s shoulders.

He spares a quick glance around the store. As with the others, it has an eclectic array of goods, though this particular stall seems to specialise in weapons and glass, of all things. There’s a case of blasters, swords and spears, and a low cabinet filled with knives. Lance looks at each one with curiosity.

Kolivan’s words come back to him. Weapons are perfectly acceptable courting gifts. He’d been a bit dismissive at the time, cracking a joke about that definitely being a Keith kind of thing, but as he looks at the blades behind the glass he’s overcome with the inexplicable urge to buy one. He knows, just looking at them, that they’re beautifully made and how much Keith would treasure one. It makes his heart do a little flip in his chest. He wasn’t entirely wrong in his assessment that weapons would be a good choice of courting gift in relation to Keith… he had just never thought that he might be the one to gift it.

Before he really thinks about it, his hand reaches out to rest on the cool glass top, just over a knife with a red pommel. It looks like it would have a lovely weight to it, perfectly balanced. Lance doesn’t know a huge amount about knives, and he supposes that if it weren’t fit for purpose they might be able to return it… or sell it. The blade is wide, tapering to a fine point and looks wickedly sharp. There's a slight curve to it which lends it a certain kind of elegance which Lance loves.

He sighs. It might not be the best one in the case, there’s certainly larger ones, but this one draws him in. He doesn’t want his Alphas to know about any gifts he may get them before he’s ready to gift them, and he certainly doesn’t want to start the courting gift process lopsided, so quietly he asks in Galran, “Do you deliver?”

His Alphas twitch at the sound of his voice speaking Galran. He knows his accent leaves a lot to be desired and he’s pretty sure he messed up the noun, but the boy smiles at him and nods.

“The red dagger, I’d like for it to be delivered to Sakcha’s, do you know it?” Again the boy nods, he pulls out a data tablet and types something in before turning it to Lance to inspect. It’s in Galran and his understanding of the written language is a little shaky, but what he understands of it amounts to a daily contract of service given. The boy extends the tablet for him to take and offers him a stylus. He signs in the box and hands over a deposit of one hundred GAC.

Just as well we’ve been well outfitted. I’ll have to make sure I pay Coran back.

Keith and Shiro stare at him for a few more moments before turning back to their own task.

Lance considers Shiro’s back. He’ll be harder, but Lance immediately knows that offering him a weapon will not go over well. He thinks back on the time they’ve spent in space together, acknowledging that he doesn’t actually know a whole lot about Shiro’s interests. He knows that he likes to unwind reading, or doing team bonding nights, or maybe training. Though Lance is pretty sure the training-type of unwinding only happens when he’s having a flare up of PTSD. It’s a way for him to keep in control and Lance gets that, understands it.

Finding any kind of book here would probably be out of the question. Even he can only read a few words of each language he’s tried to learn, and he’s been doing it for months. Seems like more work wouldn’t be considered a good gift for someone already swimming in responsibility.

Something fun, then…  

“Lance?” Shiro waves him over. The young Alpha looks far more comfortable now, having dealt with Keith and Shiro for the majority of the time they’ve been here.

He keeps casting Lance careful little glances, like he’s not sure what to make of him. If Lance had grown up as an Alpha in this sort of place, he’d probably be questioning an Omega like him too. He feels a swell of anger at the way the Omegas they’ve dealt with here had been trying to get him to share his Alphas with them.

Focusing himself, he goes to the table where they’ve helpfully laid out three of the seven remaining items they need. We might actually get to skip the other moons at this rate.

There are four or five different options for the items on the list so Lance looks each of them over carefully. He decides to buy two of them, and reserve the other as he wants to ensure they find the best option there is for it. He’s not completely certain on what each piece is going to be used for, but he figures that going for the highest quality they can is the best thing to do.

“Your price?” He asks, tone thoughtful.

The boy hesitates, shortly responding, “Twelve-hundred.”

Lance glances up at him. He’s shaking like a leaf. Lance backs up a bit to give him some space and tamps down on the instinct to release calming pheromones, sensing that here, it could do more harm than good.

In Galran he asks, “How much is the dagger?”

The young Alpha throws a nervous look at Shiro and Keith before he replies, “It is a gift for your Alphas?”

Lance shrugs, “One of them.”

“Then for that I will ask for four-hundred on top of the deposit.”

“Seems fair enough, it looks to be a good blade – well made.” Lance does the calculations in his head, “so eight-hundred for the…” he stumbles and reverts back to the universal language, “equipment?”

The boy smiles and nods. There’s a bit of colour to his cheeks which is oddly pleasing. It takes Lance a full thirty ticks to realise the kid is blushing, the skin beneath his fur turning a darker hue. Keith has an odd response to it. He steps forward abruptly, gripping Lance’s hand tightly.

Lance turns to look at him, heart lifting at the sight of his face hovering between a snarl and a grin. In all fairness, he can’t be blamed for the chuckle that works it’s way up this throat. Keith’s face swivels to him and the snarl drops, replaced with an expression of deep fondness which has Lance’s face heating in response.

“I made that dagger.” The boy whispers quietly, as if he fears reprimand for the comment.

Lance smiles brightly at him, squeezing Keith’s hand, “You are very talented.” The stall owner ducks his head, with a bashful grin.

“Now about these,” he taps slender fingertips to the metallic and tempered glass pieces on the table, “what’s your best?”

The young Alpha stares hard at the wares in front of them, scratches at the back of his neck, his chin. “Seven.” He says, eventually.

Lance looks again at the items, considers their worth carefully. It’s a fair price – a little low if Lance is being honest. He nods, reaching to grab the cash. He hands it over and begins to pack away the parts they’ve bought.

“How old are you?” Lance asks, tugging on the flap of Keith’s pack firmly. He spares a glance at Shiro to find that he’s moved to the back of the stall to rifle around some of the oddities back there. He can’t stop the way a small smile breaks on his face watching him.

“Sixteen.” The boy murmurs, and Lance turns his head sharply at that.

“Your… parents?” He queries, curiosity pulling at him in the worst of ways. The boy’s lips press into a hard line as he shakes his head. Keith turns sad eyes to the young Alpha.

“There… there are places you could go.” He offers, pain etched into his features, and Lance is suddenly flooded with the memory of what Keith had told him all those nights ago curled up in the dark. “If it’s-if it’s too painful here.”

Lance places a gentle hand on Keith’s wrist, he glances at the Omega, eyes bright. Lance offers up a small smile.

The boy nods, “I-I know,” he shrugs, “but this is home.”

Lance nods at him, squeezing Keith’s arm tightly. “Perhaps you would accept Keith’s contact data? Do you have a communication device which will send messages off world – off moon?”

Hesitantly, he nods and Keith takes the boys proffered data pad to put in his information.

“If you ever need anything, any help or, just, anything,” he says as he hands it back, “you contact me, okay? Whatever it is.”

The boy looks stunned for a few moments, but eventually his face breaks into a huge smile as he looks up at Keith. “Okay.”

As they finally emerge from the stall, Lance links arms with the both of them and walks them down the street at a more sedate pace. He can feel their surprise, but he doesn’t address it. Instead he leans his head on Shiro’s shoulder and squeezes Keith’s arm with his own.

“Let’s head back to Sakcha’s. I’m tired.”

“Galran!” Shiro sighs, “It shouldn’t come as a surprise after all the others, but Galran.”

Keith chuckles, leaning more fully into Lance. “Sharpshooter and a linguist.” He says.

“Hardly.” Lance scoffs, ignoring their reproachful gazes at the self-depreciative comment. He changes the subject, “So, Shiro. What do you like to do to unwind?”

Chapter Text

It happens on their way back to the inn. They get turned around coming back and they end up ducking down a different alley than before. This one is even more dimly lit than the last, with shadows cloaking every dip or crevice.

They’re a little distracted, hearts beating hard and fast and their fingers intertwining as they exchange little kisses.

It’s exhilarating. This feeling. Lance knows what it is. Knows, but doesn’t think he can say it yet. Doesn’t know if it’s too soon. Can it be too soon if you’ve been a part of a team as long as they have? If you feel like you’ve known them – really known them – for far longer than this little part of courting? The feeling is twisting, coiling tight through him, dancing at his mouth. He swears he can hear it in their answering sighs.

Then, of course, it all goes to shit. Their temporary bubble of peace was just that – temporary. It shouldn’t have come as surprise, not really.

They’d been on edge all day. The newness of the claiming bites making them gravitate towards one another and acutely aware of the attention on them.

Lance knows he should have been more careful, more alert, after his discussion with Sakcha. His warning that some of the Omegas here may take serious offence to the way he’s reciprocated a claim. Worse, because it’s not a full bond, he’d been warned that it could lead to these same Omegas taking it as a challenge.

They come out of the darkness. Three of them. All Omegas.

They’re big. The alien DNA in one of them means that she towers over Shiro. Human Omegas are generally more slight than their Alpha counterparts, more willowy and less prone to bulk on muscle – Lance knows, he’s tried. From the Omega’s they’ve run into on the moon, and from knowing Antok as a prime Galran Omega, it seems that, perhaps, smaller Omegas are just a human thing.

Keith and Shiro immediately try to put themselves between the aliens and himself, but as he watches the fire it lights in their eyes, the unmasked interest, Lance forces himself forward, standing in from of them instead.

“Leave us alone.” He warns, unsurprised by the way his voice lends to a growl, canines trying to drop. “I don’t want any trouble. We just want to get back to our rooms.”

“Small Omega.” The big one grunts, dismissive. Lance keeps his eyes on her, watching in his peripheral as one of them slinks to the side, attempting to get closer to the Alphas.

“I wouldn’t if I were you.” He hisses, lips curling in a snarl. He grips Shiro’s arm, who is closest to the advancing Alpha, and tucks him more securely behind himself. The Omega stops, tilting his head.

“You are in the way.” The smallest Omega says – smallest, maybe, but still taller than Lance, broader too.

“Uh-huh, and you are in ours.” He replies, eyes twitching around the small space to gauge escape routes.

The fastest option would be straight out the other side of the alley, towards their goal. Unfortunately, that means cutting a path through the Omegas. He’s not certain that they can take them on – besides the fact that they really didn’t want the trouble, Lance doesn’t want to risk drawing any more attention to themselves than they already have.

They can turn back, but that means turning their backs on these Omegas to make a run for it. Lance thinks he can probably out run them, but he’s not sure the Alphas will, and he’s not willing to risk their safety here.

Can’t go around it, we’ll have to go through it.

“Look,” Lance says, crossing his arms and cocking a hip, “either you can let us pass, or we can fight it out.”

The big one raises her fists, the other two following suit, dropping into attack stances.

Shiro tenses in Lance’s periphery and Keith reaches toward the small of his back to grab his Marmora knife. They don’t have their bayards, having opted not to bring them and give themselves away as paladins of Voltron – a larger risk to them than anything else, they had decided.

“I was really, really looking forward to some alone time with my Alphas.” Lance huffs, raising his own fists, dropping into a fighting crouch. “Let’s get this over with.”

It happens quickly. One second they’re facing off, and the next it’s a flurry of punches and kicks. It’s close quarters. The Omegas are fast for their size, but Lance is faster. His training with Antok pays off. He manages to get his arm around the big one’s neck, squeezing until she goes down with a grunt, his face pressed to hers.

That one incapacitated, he turns to join his Alphas squaring off against the other two. Keith is keeping the smallest one at bay with his knife – well, sword, now – and Shiro is keeping the other busy, but is without a weapon. He opts to join Shiro, grabbing the Omega from behind and knocking out their knees to send them sprawling to the ground. Shiro grins at him gripping the Omega’s head and bringing his own knee up to slam into his face. The Omega goes down, thumping hard onto the ground, blood pouring from his nose.

Lance spins to help Keith with the last and freezes. A growl works its way up his throat, hovering there, his canines drop fully and his vision goes red.

The Omega has his hands around Keith’s throat, the Marmora blade dropped to the floor – how the hell did he manage to get the drop on Keith?

He is pressed up close to Keith, his nose in the crook of his neck as he scents him heavily, crotch pressing into the cradle of Keith’s hips. The Omega groans, licking a stripe from where his fingers rest against the base of the Alpha’s throat to his ear. His hips circle inwards, pushing harder into Keith. Lance can scent the Omega’s slick in the air.

But it’s Keith’s face that makes the fury in him burst forth. Fear. Total and absolute. He can see in the way his eyes have glassed over that this has triggered a memory, has thrown him back to a time when he had nothing and no-one to protect him.

Lance’s body moves faster than he’s ever known it to. He grabs Keith’s knife from the floor, sweeping up to grasp at the back of the Omega’s jacket and wrenching him away from the Alpha. He lets out a surprised squawk, head slamming into the building as Lance throws him against it. Keith slides down sputtering and choking, heaving in huge gulps of air as Shiro rushes to him.

The Omega stares at Lance, terror making his eyes wide as Lance presses the blade firmly against his neck.

“Give me one good reason,” he growls, voice harsh and biting – animalistic in a way it’s never been, “one good reason, I shouldn’t slit your throat.”

“Lance…” Keith murmurs, voice quiet and raw, “Lance, I’m okay.”  

Lance shakes his head, red creeping into the edges if his vision as the blade presses just hard enough into the Omega’s skin for blood to well up. The Omega trembles in his hands, letting out a little squeak, hands coming up to try and push Lance away. Panic fills his eyes as he realised that Lance is immovable and Lance feels a prickle of sick glee.

“Lance.” Shiro’s voice is shaking, he’s still crouched beside Keith, “Please.”

He growls, fingers tightening on the blade’s grip.

“This will change you.” Shiro continues.

“Why aren’t you more angry?” Lance spits, eyes still on the Omega, the threat, before him. “He hurt Keith. He terrified him.”

“I’m livid.” Lance spares a glance at him. “But he is not worth you. If you kill him, it will change you. This isn’t a battle, this is separate from what we usually do, how we usually fight, and why. It will change who you are, how you view yourself, irrevocably.”

His eyes are alight with rage, his canines dropped and shining in the dim light, but the hands with which he holds Keith are gentle. Keith, for his part, is slumped a little in Shiro’s arms, fingers fluttering over his throat and Lance can see the bruises already beginning to form.

He turns his head back to the Omega with growl. He flinches in response, the blade cutting a little deeper.

“Please, baby.” Shiro begs, breath shuddering out of him, “Please.”

Lance’s resolve crumbles, the red finally clearing his vision as a tentative warmth fills his chest.

“Pet-names?” He whispers, “So not fair.”

The Omega’s eyes widen, sensing the shift in Lance’s demeanour, the slight slackening of his grip. Before he gets any ideas, Lance throws his head back and headbutts him, letting him slump to the ground with no small amount of delight at the anguished groan it tears from him.

He watches with a sick sense of fascination as the Omega pitches sideways, blood smearing down the wall where his head must have connected with the… is it brickwork if it isn’t made of brick? More like metal panels? Panel-work?

Lance finds he doesn’t care if the head injury kills him.

He turns abruptly to the Alphas. They’re watching him cautiously, eyes wide and round. Both of them are shaking and he realises that, maybe, it’s from fear of him – of what he was absolutely going to do if Shiro hadn’t managed to talk him down.

He sighs out a breath and runs his tongue over his teeth, wincing when his canines catch. He rubs a hand over his face, wondering what expression he’s wearing.

He walks over to his Alphas, stands over them with quiet intensity. Then he extends a hand to each of them, waiting patiently for them to reach back. Keith searches his face, eyes wary, but not afraid. He reaches first, hand warm and rough with callouses. Lance carefully pulls him up to his feet.

Keith continues to stare at him, eyes flicking over his face, a frown heavy on his brow. Lance stares right back, face still. His eyes scan down to his throat, at the darkening bruises there and he feels his face do something complicated. Mouth pulling back in a snarl while his eyes fill with tears.

Shiro’s hand suddenly slides into his as he heaves himself to his feet, knees letting out an angry crack. He crowds into Lance, face pressing into his neck, scenting him. His breath his hot on Lance’s skin, shivering out of him.

He feels his own face crumbling, the snarl dissipating like mist to be replaced with something more devastating, something so raw his chest aches with it. Keith pushes into his other side, frantically scenting at the gland on his neck and Lance sobs.

“I-I… He was g-going to--”

“Shh,” Keith sooths, his voice cracking and hoarse as he brings Lance’s hand up to his chest to feel the steady pulse of his heart, “I’m okay. I’m here.”

Horror washes over him, the fog of anger gone. “Oh, Dios, I was gonna--”

“You didn’t.” Shiro says, pressing a kiss to his neck, “You didn’t.”

Lance shudders. He’d been so close to it. He can still feel the urge to rip the Omega to shreds crawling under his skin. It doesn’t help that Keith smells so strongly of him. They all stink of their opponents and it tastes wrong in his mouth.

“Let’s go back to Sakcha’s.” Lance whispers, hands gripping tightly to theirs, “Please.”

Chapter Text

Their room is equipped with a sonic shower. Lance makes the Alphas go ahead of him, running back down to the front desk to ask about ordering some food. Sakcha gives him a sympathetic look at the way his hands tremble.

“Something happen?” He asks, voice quiet.

Swallowing, Lance nods, not trusting himself not to just scream.

“Ahh,” he sighs, leaning forward on his elbows, “Some of the Omegas here are…” he shivers, “they are not good people.”

“No. They are not.” Lance murmurs, “I, uhm, I have a package arriving tonight, I don’t know when. From the Alpha quarter.” Sakcha nods, “Can you keep it here until tomorrow morning? I don’t want my Alphas to see it.”

Sakcha smiles knowingly, “A courting gift?” Lance nods, cheeks heating.

“For one of them. I would like to get something for the other, but I don’t know where to start. I don’t know if I’ll be able to find anything on the moon and I don’t think I could bear to leave them long enough to find out.”

“Maybe I can help?”

Lance considers him for a moment. It’s not like it could jeopardise the mission, not like trusting him with the items already heavy on their list. This would be a personal errand. But… it doesn’t sit right with him that Sakcha would be the one picking the gift out.

Lance smiles at him and shakes his head, “Thank you, but it’s something I need to do.”

Sakcha grins at him, letting out a little hum, “Your Cintarian is really, very good.” He says in universal tongue.

“I think it still needs work,” Lance shrugs, “I actually came down to ask about food. We ate in the food quarter earlier and--”

“Ah.” He nods, “Yes. It is not the most welcoming of places for Alphas.”

“No,” Lance agrees, “so do you do food? Or can we order in, I don’t want-I can’t leave them tonight.”

Sakcha smiles at him. “We have a well-stocked kitchen and a bar, if you would like? I have a few bottles of a wonderful wine from Niblosch.”

“I, uh, Niblosch?”

“Never been?” He queries, moving out from behind the desk to walk towards the unlit bar. He flicks on the light as he goes, “Here,” he pulls a bottle from the rack and three glasses from a shelf, “on the house.”

“Oh, I couldn’t, I--”

“Lance, isn’t it?” Lance nods, “Omegas like you, the ones who actually care about their Alphas, are rare here. Please.” He offers the bottle and glasses again, and Lance accepts, hesitantly.

“Thank you.” He whispers. The bottle is cold, condensation already making it slick in his fingers. He grins when he sees that the liquid is bright blue and slightly carbonated, already imagining the look of disgust on Shiro’s face.

“So, food?”

“Please.”

“What was it you ate at the food quarter?” Lance raises an eyebrow, “I only ask because I have been caught out a few times by food which… was not digestible for me.”

“Ah! I’m glad we aren’t the only ones.” Lance laughs, “It was, oh, what did she call it? Mumilgrak?”

“Mumengak?”

“Yes! Thank you.”

Sakcha smiles, “Very well,” he rolls up his sleeves, moving away to what Lance assumes to be the kitchen, “I will try my best to make it something palatable. I will bring it to your room.”

Lance nods gratefully, and turns to leave, clutching the bottle of wine and the glasses so he doesn’t drop them.

His fingers feel oddly numb, like he’s still in shock. He thinks he might be. There’s an odd detachment in him, something disjointed. He’d never realised he was capable of that, of coldly looking at another person and knowing the universe would be a better place without them, of feeling such an incredible, horrible depth of rage.

He shuts his eyes and inhales, opening them again when all he can see is Keith’s face looking so goddamn scared. He can still smell his fear, awful and acrid, like a tyre fire. He realises that it’s probably still clinging to his clothes and he takes a few grounding breaths, continuing his way to their room.

The walk feels long, even though it can’t be more than a few minutes, and he feels sweat break out along his hairline, his heartrate picking up with the need to see them, to know that they’re okay.

He slams his way into the room, panic swelling in his throat. It dies, quickly, as he sees his Alphas sitting on the bed, side by side, Keith tucked protectively into Shiro. They’ve turned the lights down to a low amber.

They stare at him and he realises that, perhaps, his entry was a little dramatic. His eyes scan the room, unable to let his guard down for even a second in this moment. He is trembling with the instinct to protect, to defend at all costs.

Shiro approaches him slowly, taking the bottle and the glasses from his hands.

“We’re okay.” He says, “You’re okay.”

He lets out a shaky breath. It’s then that he notices the pheromones flooding the room, angry and fearful.

“Is-is that me? Sorry.”

Shiro shakes his head, closing his eyes and letting out a burst of calming pheromones. They envelop Lance and he takes a deep breath, feeling himself finally relax.

“Why don’t you grab a shower, hmm?” Shiro asks, voice kind. He reaches a hand up to run his thumb across Lance’s cheekbone, gentle and reverent.

“Okay.” He agrees, moving to the shower room. He spares a careful glance at Keith, his chest squeezing as the younger Alpha’s eyes slide away from him to fixate on the floor. “Okay.” He says again, for something to say.

He makes the shower a quick one, every fibre of his being telling him how important it is for him to be with his Alphas. He’s never enjoyed sonic showers anyway. They’re great, they’re just… not a proper shower, with water and soap. They do have their benefits. He’s not wet, just as dry as he was when he entered so at least there’s no need to dry his hair, to style it.

After turning the knob to shut it off, he stands naked for a few moments before realising he left his pack, with any spare clothes, outside. He bites at his lips, staring down at the scar on his arm. Will he ever be ready? Will it ever not fill him with repulsion?

Frustrated tears burn at his eyes. After today, after what happened tonight, after comprehending this feeling bubbling in his chest, joyous and sweet and painful, he wants so badly to be with them; wants to give them all of him. Should he…? Can he?

Maybe it’s not about him accepting the scars… maybe it’s more about him needing to be accepted as he is, now. He lets out a shivery breath.

He knows that his scars won’t change the way they see him. That they won’t change this tentative desire between them, the gentleness of them, the care. Knows that they won’t assume that the minute he takes this step he’s ready for anything more.

His hands shake, feet going numb as he makes his way to the door. It’s just a flimsy piece of metal, not all that thick, just enough to give the bather a sense of privacy and yet it feels like it could be three feet deep. He reaches quivering fingers to the door handle. Manages to get his hand around the knob of it. He almost smiles as he registers that this door opens in a regular way, no swishing, no sliding into a walled cavity, but nerves flutter in his chest.

He casts his eyes down to the scar on his arm. Having it on display makes him feel even more naked than his actual nakedness. If he does this, if he goes out into that room, if he shows them, he will be bearing all of himself to them. Every little imperfection, every little bit of pain and heartache and vulnerability.

Is that such a big thing? Does it need to be?

He loves them. Thinks perhaps he’s been in love with them for so long he can’t distinguish when it happened.

It flows in him. Strong and all-consuming.

They have not held any part of themselves back from him since the start of their courting – even before, really, when he thinks about it. It makes Lance feels selfish that he is. Makes him feel unworthy. It feels like he’s asking them for their trust and not reciprocating - and he does trust them.

Closing his eyes, he remembers the first touch; the scenting. Was that the start of it? Was it before? The garlic knots, burnt and nostalgic. The baths. All the little times before and in between, the kissing, the touching, the scenting, all of it, leading to this. To this bearing of his soul. He feels alight with it, dizzy with nerves.

He wonders if it is why Shiro’s command had hurt him so much, if it is why Keith’s scepticism over him being an Omega cut so deep.

He’s scared. So scared.

He’d frightened them today. Had he disappointed them? Or did they get it, understand it? Will… will giving them this vulnerability of his help to repair their trust in him?

Opening his eyes, he squares his shoulders, hand tightening on the handle.

Chapter Text

The day has been hard on all of them, Keith especially. His mate is still tucked into his side, little tremors running through him every few seconds. Shiro recognises the trembling for what it is, the adrenaline wearing off, the fear receding, but his mind revolts against the way that Omega had wrapped his hands about his throat. If he thinks too hard on it, he’ll lose it completely.

A part of him is glad that Lance was the one to react first, that he’d gone almost feral in his fury – if Shiro had done so, he’s not so sure that anything would have been able to pull him back from that ledge, the veil of the Champion would have fallen over him. He so grateful that Lance had been the one.

Oh, but Lance had been beautiful to behold, all snarling mouth and elongated canines, growling from deep within his chest.

As the door opens, Shiro turns. He opens his mouth to greet Lance, the words dying in his throat.

Because there, at the bathroom’s threshold, stands Lance.

He’s naked.

Something in Shiro’s brain short-circuits. His mouth goes dry. His hands squeeze at Keith’s shoulder and knee hard enough that Keith raises his head.

He sees in the corner of his eye, the way his eyes widen, hears his stuttered intake of breath.

“Lance…” Shiro breathes.

He holds himself shyly, covering his cock, but his scars stand stark for their gazes, raised and silvered from the pod.

Keith shivers again. He reaches out a hand to Lance, beckoning him towards them. He comes slowly, hesitance in every step, until he is close enough to grasp Keith’s hand in his. He reaches for him with his scarred arm and Shiro’s gaze drops to it, takes it in.

His mind flashes back to the day he’d got them. It overlays the memory, layers on top of it to cover gaping wounds and blood – there had been so much blood. He draws in a shaky breath, raising his eyes to Lance’s. He sees the fear there as he gazes at Keith’s hand in his, of rejection, of disgust.

“Can I--” he swallows, “can I touch you?”

Lance looks at him and it’s like he’s looking into Shiro’s soul. His gaze is so raw, so tender and trusting. He nods.

Shiro takes his hand from Keith’s knee, his flesh hand, to gently grasp onto Lance’s wrist. He’s not touching any of his scar tissue, resting just over the scent gland there. He can see how close the Alpha had come, how close they had been to potentially losing Lance entirely and his throat grows tight.

“May I…?” Keith asks, his voice thick with unshed tears.

Lance nods again and the hand not held by him reaches up to brush carefully across the scarring at his shoulder. The Omega lets out a trembling breath and his whole body shivers. Keith whines in response.

Shiro gentles the hand he has around Lance’s wrist, sliding it up to his elbow and back again, tracing the damage done to his skin, all the little notches and tears there. His throat aches. This level of trust, it’s… terrifying. Only yesterday – was it really only yesterday? – Lance had been so anxious about his scars, so afraid of how they would treat him after…

“What changed?” He murmurs, almost to himself, but Lance catches it, of course he does, and he smiles a tremulous smile.

He shrugs a little, self-conscious, “I can’t ask you two to trust me if I can’t trust you with this. I don’t want this to become a barrier, not when we already have enough.”

Shiro nods, breath catching on a sigh as he circles the mark of a canine in his skin. Lance squirms uncomfortably, but he doesn’t tell him to stop. How Lance hadn’t come back with two broken arms is beyond him.

Shiro’s eyes drop to the hand still trying to protect his dignity.

“Would you-would you prefer to have some boxers on?” He asks quietly, carefully withdrawing his hand, fingers lingering on his skin for as long as possible, making it clear he’s not pulling away from him.

Lance blushes a little, nodding. Shiro reaches across to Lance’s pack beside the bed, dropping his arm from around Keith’s shoulders to root around in the bag, pulling out a pair of black boxers.

He goes to offer them to Lance, and realises that Keith is still running reverent fingers over the scar at his shoulder, the thumb of his other hand subconsciously running over Lance’s knuckles in a comforting manner. Lance is staring at him with soft eyes. In the low light of the room, they glow with emotion.

So, instead, he leans down, gently tapping at Lance’s ankle. Lance startles a little, but lifts his foot compliantly, stepping into first one leg, then the other. Shiro looks up at Lance, locking their eyes as he slides the material up his long, long legs. He keeps their eyes engaged as the backs of his fingers brush over Lance’s hips and the Omega pulls his hand away from his front.

Lance reaches out to him with that hand, up towards his face, then stops, withdrawing, “I, uh, I should probably wash my h--”

Shiro, gently takes hold of his fingers, bringing them to his cheek. He presses a kiss into the palm and turns his eyes up at him, thumb swiping over the back of Lances hand.

“It’s fine.” He whispers.

Keith withdraws from his inspection of the scar on Lance’s shoulder to run his fingers down Lance’s arm. Keith bites his lip, tears gathering at his lashes.

Shiro reaches up his hand again, leaving Lance’s fingers resting on his cheek. He delicately traces the outline of the scar at his shoulder. Again, it is so close to the edge of his gland that Shiro shivers. This one is jagged, less raised, but still impressively horrifying. It leads down onto his pec, the very tip of a claw had come within about an inch of his nipple and Shiro winces in sympathy.

He'd seen the injury when it was fresh, still bleeding, but short of just wanting to get the bleeding to stop, he hadn’t properly catalogued the damage. Afterwards he hadn’t let himself think on it too hard, angry at himself for ever letting himself put Lance in that kind of danger.

“Hey.” Lance says, voice still quiet, barely there. “I’m still here, okay?”

Shiro nods, but feels the tears edge their way back anyway.

“Uhm, you know,” Lance says, thumb rubbing against his cheekbone and his fingertips over the inside of Keith’s wrist, “I’m-I’m sorry about earlier. I was-I just.” He lets out a frustrated breath, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling and shifting his weight from one foot to the other, “I didn’t mean to scare you. Either of you.”

“You didn’t--” Keith starts, voice wet.

“I did.” Lance counters, looking at him sharply “I didn’t mean to scare you, I just… you both mean so much to me…” he trails off looking uncertain, “I don’t want to lose either of you. I don’t think I could take it. Not now. I’ve never reacted that way, but when I saw his hands on you, Keith, I just… lost it. Shiro, if you hadn’t stopped me I would have done it.”

He looks like he wants to withdraw, his shoulders turning in, but his hands remain firm on them, calm.

Shiro keeps up his gentle touches, sweeping fingers against the scar in soothing strokes, deliberate and careful. He can see Keith doing the same. He smiles when Lance relaxes a little.

“You did scare me.” Shiro admits, “But not for the reasons you might think. I was scared of what doing that might do to you.”

Lance nods, understanding. Shiro wonders if perhaps his reaction to the situation has frightened him as much as it has them.

“We don’t want to lose you either.” Keith says, looking up with shining eyes, tears trembling on his lashes, “We came so close to that already, I don’t-I can’t…”

Lance smiles at him, sadly, “Still here, sweetheart.” He promises and Keith nods, swallowing and dropping his head back down to look at his arm.

Shiro runs his hand down from Lance’s shoulder scar to rest it on the smooth skin of his waist. “Thank you for sharing this with us.”

He leans forward to rest his forehead to Lance’s chest and the Omega runs his fingers through the short hairs at the back of his head. Shiro takes a deep breath, letting this sense of calm, of completeness, flow through him.

It should feel rushed, forced. This decision for Lance to open himself up in this way, but it doesn’t. Shiro can scent the honesty of him, the utter conviction that he was suddenly ready for this, to take this leap of faith for them. It overwhelms him and, abruptly, the tears fall, running hot down his face and into Lance’s skin.

Though Lance tuts gently at him, a whimper shuddering in his throat, he doesn’t offer any reassurances other than a gentle squeeze to the nape of his neck, grounding him.

Keith whines again and shifts on the bed to get closer to Lance, one knee slipping between the Omega’s as he releases Lance’s hand to come to rest his head against him as well. The cry that claws its way out of his mate’s throat hurts, it burns him and he wraps his Galra arm over his shoulders once more.

Lance’s breath catches and he bends a little, wrapping himself over them, encompassing them, a hand on each of their napes.

Shiro feels almost stupid for crying over this gift, over the fact that Lance trusts them so completely with himself. That worry is obliterated the second he feels Lance’s own tears in his hair.

“Thank you.” Shiro whispers, voice thick, “For trusting us.”

Lance shakes his head, the strands of his hair tickling at Shiro’s shoulder, “I think this might actually be the easy part.” He admits, “I think what comes after… when I feel ready for that, I think it’ll be harder.”

Shiro tenses without meaning to and Lance withdraws, hands sliding over their shoulders and down their arms as they raise them to keep him close. He grasps onto their hands, fiddling with their fingers, his eyes on the floor.

“I’m not showing you this to… to distract from how I reacted earlier… I-I…” he trails off, frowning. They remain silent, breaths halting in their chests as they wait for him.

They will never push. It’s an agreement between them, an unwritten code. If something is too much to process, they will wait.

Shiro thinks he might just wait an age, an eon, an eternity, for Lance if that’s what he needs. He would have done the same for Keith if he’d needed.

“I know the way I reacted might not have been typical for an Omega. If either one of you needs time to process it, I understand, I get it. It was a lot, I’m a lot. I just…” he shrugs, “I need you both to understand, this trust I’m putting in you, it’s all of myself. I-if you want me, I need to give you all of me. I won’t do this halfway, and I don’t want you to either.” He gives their hands a squeeze.

“To be clear, I’m not saying I’m ready for more, yet. I’m not saying that because I’m ready to show you this part of me that I’m ready for us to jump into bed as mates would… I-I’ve never… well, I mean, other than casual hook ups, I've never...” he sighs tremulously, body quivering with tension, “when I was young, when I first presented, I promised myself that that part of myself would wait for my Alpha – Alphas, I guess,” and Shiro sees the start of a smile light his face beneath his bangs, “I promised myself that, and when… it happened, I felt that I lost something in it. Lost a part of me. An innocence, I guess?” He shakes his head, “I want you to know that it’s not because I don’t trust you,” and finally, he raises his head to meet their gazes head on, “because I trust you so much, it scares me. It’s not because I’m not… not sure on you either, it’s just that… something was taken from me, that I don’t think I can ever get back,” his voice breaks, “and I wish, so much, that it were you. It hurts that it wasn’t, that we didn’t have this before – and I don’t say that to make you guys feel bad for the slow steps you took to get us here, we all thought we’d have more time to figure it out, we did – but God.”

He tilts his head back again to look at the ceiling, his chin trembling and Shiro’s heart shatters.

“Maybe it’s better that we didn’t?” He continues, voice hoarse, like he’s holding back more tears, “Maybe this is how it needed to be? All of us a little bit broken? All of us with just a little part of ourselves we can’t get back?”

And Christ, that just about does it for Shiro.

They all carry their scars. Some physical, some emotional, some mental. There are all these different little ways that they cope. Shiro not wanting to talk about it, Keith pushing everyone as far away as possible, always keeping people at arm’s length. Yet here Lance stands, telling them it’s okay, that, maybe, it’s how they are mean to be.

It’s such an individual take on the wrongs done to them that it would be so easy to take offence. Instead, it settles something that’s been restless in his heart since his capture, since his days as Champion, since discovering the awful things that had happened to Keith… it’s…

“Kintsugi.” He murmurs and Lance’s and Keith’s eyes shoot to him. He flushes, stuttering out an apology, “Sorry…”

Lance shakes his head, “No, what does it mean?”

Shiro inhales, “Uhm, it’s an artform. In Japan. Putting broken things back together with gold lacquer. ‘Joining with gold’.” Lance raises his eyebrows at him, so he continues, “The idea is to embrace change, embrace imperfections and flaws. To see the beauty in them.”

He tugs Lance a little closer by the hands and he comes willingly, eyes wet. Immediately, Keith’s hand slides up his scarred arm, running gentle fingers over the marks there.

“Your scars can only change you if you let them.” He whispers, bringing Lance’s hand to his mouth, “What happened was a terrible, awful thing, but you are still the one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever met, Lance.”

Lance’s whole body shivers. The tears which had been brimming his eyes spill down his cheeks.

“You’re so brave.” Keith murmurs at him and Lance’s gaze swings to him, “You’re brave in so many ways we aren’t, clever too. Perfect.” Keith’s gaze is honest and appreciative as he stares at their Omega and Shiro’s heart flips over in his chest. “Thank you. For saving me.”

Lance shakes his arm out of Keith’s grasp to run gentle fingers over the bruising on his neck, his eyes intense. His brow lowers.

Lance’s breath catches. It’s the only warning they get before he lets out a sob and then he’s crying, “I’m so sorry I scared you!”

Shiro tugs him down to them on the bed so that he’s mostly in his lap, with his legs draped over Keith’s knees. Keith sets to sweeping calming hands up and down his calves and shins while Shiro tucks him into the crook of his neck, encouraging him to scent him there. He focusses on soothing pheromones, smiling as Lance’s sobs turn into little hiccoughing gasps and sniffles almost instantly.  

Keith presses a gentle kiss to Lance’s knee which makes him twitch lightly in his arms, burying himself a little more deeply into his neck. Shiro rubs his hand up Lance’s arm and over his shoulder, until his fingers are resting against his claiming bite. The Omega whines.

He isn’t sure how long they stay like that, just huddled together, trying to sooth one another, but Lance’s tears slow and his breath comes more evenly. He shifts, embarrassed. He clears his throat and, reluctantly, Shiro loosens his arms on him.

“I, uhm, I ordered food, so I imagine Sakcha will be bringing it soon. I should probably find something to put on.”

Shiro ignores the angry stab of anxiety of another Alpha in their space so soon after the attack on Keith and after Lance’s gift of trust.

He leaves their arms, but bends at the waist to press a chaste kiss to each of their mouths, before moving to crouch down at his pack and pull out his dressing gown.

Keith laughs.

“What?” Lance grouches at him, though he’s smiling.

“It’s just… you brought your dressing gown. Did you pack your PJs too?” It would be mocking if not for the fond gaze he has trained on the Omega.

“Uh, yeah? What?” Lance slips his arms into the gown and ties it around his waist. Shiro happily notes that he doesn’t move to cover the scarring on his chest, just letting the fabric sit where it will. “Were you planning to sleep in your jeans, Mullet?”

Keith smirks at him, leaning back to rest his elbows on the bed, “I usually sleep naked.” He shrugs, grinning when Lance blushes hard, eyes going wide as he turns them to Keith, and hands stopping their fussing at his tie. Lance slowly turns his gaze to Shiro. He grins at him, shrugging his shoulders in an agreeing manner.

Lance sputters at them, throwing his hands out at them and wildly gesticulating, “You’re trying to kill me. You can’t just say things like that, I just, gah!”

And like that, the odd, tender tension is broken. It’s something they will revisit, Shiro knows, but for now, it’s something they can set aside.

Keith chuckles, a warm sound bubbling out from him and Shiro grins. Lance releases a huff, smiling. The Omega reaches out to grab the wine off the dresser, pouring three healthy glassfuls. He passes Keith and Shiro a glass.

Shiro sniffs at it, nose twitching at the fruity scent and the bubbles. The blue is off putting, though the way Lance knocks his back, and pours another settles his nerves about it.

“Better than nunvill.” Lance sighs, rolling his neck and sitting back on the bed next to Shiro. He leans into the Alpha, head on his shoulder.

Shiro’s heart lifts and he presses a soft kiss into his hair, lingering for just a moment longer than is truly necessary. Lance curls a little more fully into his side in response, taking a sip of his drink. Keith presses in on his other side, planting a kiss into his shoulder. His trembling has ceased, forgotten in the sheer awe of Lance’s trust.

Fit between them this way, Shiro feels… complete. It tugs at his heart, making it swell with affection. With a sigh of his own, he lets the remaining tension ebb from his frame, content to wait, just like this, for their food.

Chapter Text

On their second day, Lance leaves the warmth of their shared bed early to head to the front desk and pick up the knife. He’s scowling, he knows, little furrows of tension making a home on his face.

He can’t stop thinking about the bruises on Keith’s neck.

“Sakcha?” He calls, leaning a little over the desk to peer into the backroom.

“Ah, good day, Lance.”

The Alpha hulks out of the backroom, ducking under the doorframe and coming to stand the other side of the desk.

“Uh, yeah, morning.” Lance greets, feeling restless and frustrated, “did my delivery come?”

Sakcha leans down to the very bottom of the desk and pulls out a package, carefully wrapped in a burlap-type material and tied with string. He places it carefully between them, “It came a few hours after I delivered your food. The boy slept here, it did not feel right sending him back out on the streets so late.”

“Oh, wow, thank you. How much to I owe you for the room?” Lance goes to reach for his wallet, before remembering it’s still in his pack, “Uh, can I come and settle it later on? I’m hoping to get off-moon today.”

A slow smile spreads over the Alphas face, “He did not sleep in one of the rooms.” Lance quirks an eyebrow at him and Sakcha points a long finger over his shoulder towards the room behind the desk, “I put him up in the office. It was no bother, he is so very young.”

Leaning to the side to get a better look, Lance smiles as he spots the boy’s face peeking out from under a warm-looking blanket.

Returning his gaze back to their temporary landlord, Lance smiles at him sadly, “Still, I wouldn’t feel right not paying you. Did he eat?” Sakcha nods, “Then at least let me reimburse you that.” He nods again and Lance’s smile brightens, “Oh. I wanted to ask, would it be possible for my Alphas to stay here today? I don’t want a repeat of yesterday.”

Sakcha gives him a long, unreadable stare, before saying, “If they are amenable, it will not cause me any trouble.”

Lance nods, sensing the unspoken, if they let you go alone. “They won’t be any trouble, I promise.”

Sakcha gives a hissing laugh, big shoulders shaking, “In these parts, it’s not the Alphas I worry about.”

Lance huffs a rueful laugh of his own and turns to return to their room. “Oh,” he says, turning back, “Could you possibly send some kind of meal to the room for them, please?” The big Alpha nods and he offers Sakcha a wave as he leaves and he smiles at the raise of the innkeeper’s hand on his way to the kitchen.

He takes the walk back deliberately slowly to give himself time to shuffle through his thoughts.

The night before had been… intense. For all of them. But the bearing of his scars had lifted something from him. A weight had lessened.

He knows that the likelihood of the road ahead for them being easy is nearly non-existent, they’re all a little bit broken, but he knows, down to his bones, that placing his trust in them, trusting them to catch him, is the right one.

Hoisting the gift under his arm, he runs an idle hand over his scars. The way Shiro and Keith had touched them so reverently had settled the fluttering anxiety in his chest. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to look at his scars and love them, but Lance wonders if, with enough time, he could grow to like them as a part of himself. He thinks of the way his Alphas had touched them, the look of utter devotion in their eyes… it had taken his breath away and quelled the majority of his nervousness over the step he had decided to take with them – the step he had taken towards them.

Heaving a sigh he drops his fingers. He can see their door.

Bearing his scars has thrown up another issue he hadn’t foreseen. He knows himself, he always has. It’s why he feels lacking a lot of the time. What he hadn’t realised, in bearing himself to them, was the wave of affection which has followed. A wave that now threatens to spill over at any opportunity.

His self confidence only goes so far, and though they’ve reiterated to him time and again how sure they are on him, he is terrified that voicing anything remotely resembling the feelings coursing through him will only spell disaster.

He’s fooled around enough to know he’s always the one who ends up dropped, or broken-hearted. Although he’s never hated being an Omega, he’s always hated some aspects of his nature and there have been people who took advantage of that.

A frown twitches at his brow.

They would never do that. The complete conviction of the thought takes him off guard and he stops just before the door.

He doesn’t know why he’s so sure of it. Doesn’t understand the reasoning, only knows the trust he has in them is unlike any he’s ever had in anyone.

None of his previous relationships or hook-ups ever got this level of faith from him. Perhaps that was why each and every one crashed and burned. He had always held something of himself back from his partners, never let them see him as he truly is/

I love them. He thinks. It’s not the first time he’s thought it. There’s no other name for the emotion coiling it’s way through him. I love them.

His heart lifts in his chest, filling him with a happiness so profound his certain it colours his scent. It’s a one-eighty from his mood on the way out of the room and it leaves him slightly dizzy.

His cheeks ache from the way his face splits into a smile. Raising his hand he pushes on the door and enters the room.  

His grin widens impossibly when he sees his two Alphas still curled around one another. Their brows creased simultaneously as he enters the room, nostrils flaring as they take in what Lance knows will be a powdered sugar, honeyed scent.

Shiro’s eyes open first. Eyes still closed, his arm tightens just slightly around Keith’s waist before his fingers grasp the cool bedsheets that Lance has previously occupied. He releases a displeased little grumble and cracking open his lids. His eyes find Lance quickly and he makes a querying noise in his throat, coming fully awake almost instantly as he takes in Lance’s fully dressed state. Lance almost mourns the way the sleepy look evaporates so quickly.

Quietly, the Omega makes his way over to the bed, crouching to run his hand down Shiro’s arm to grasp his hand. Shiro grips his fingers tightly and Lance smiles at him softly. He brings Shiro’s hand to his lips and scatters a few kisses across his knuckles, grinning wider at the way Shiro’s eyes darken and his face pinks.

“Hey.” Lance murmurs, glancing at Keith and trying his best not to wake him. He feels his smile turn a little grim as he spies how brightly the bruises have bloomed on his throat.

“Hey.” Shiro whispers back, voice rough with sleep. “What are you doing up?”

“Oh,” Lance leans over to put the wrapped knife into his pack by the bed, “I had a delivery, so I just went to grab it.” He clears his throat, keeping his tone low, “I, uhm. I’m heading out now.”

Shiro moves up onto his elbow, jostling Keith and startling him awake. He glares up at Shiro and casts Lance a quizzical gaze as he takes in his state of dress. He seems to catch on, rubbing his eyes and starting move into a more upright position as he stifles a yawn.

“You’re what? Hang on, I’ll get dressed.” Shiro starts to shimmy down the bed to do just that, but Lance grips his hand more tightly, keeping him in place, and runs gentle fingers through Keith’s hair. He rumbles in his chest, eyes closing again.  

Lance stares into Shiro’s face, letting go of his hand to softly touch his cheek instead as he says, “I’m going alone.”

Keith’s eyes shoot open and he stares at Lance, dumbfounded. Shiro frowns, but Lance holds his ground.

“No.” The Alpha says, shaking his head just slightly.

“Yes.” Lance counters, putting his hand over Shiro’s mouth as he opens it to argue. “I’m going to the market alone today. Sakcha has said he’s happy for you to stay here until I’m done and then we can head back to Red together.”

The frown on Shiro’s face deepens and Keith squirms fully upright, dislodging Lance's hand in his hair. The Omega lets it drop and turns to look at him. He looks young and vulnerable like this. His neck is bruised, naked save for pants – Lance had insisted after it turned out both Alpha’s do, indeed, sleep naked –  and with the sheets pooled around his hips. After a moment, Keith takes Lance’s hand in his, running his thumb over the Omega’s knuckles.

“Not safe.” He rasps and Lance winces, knowing that some of the roughness of his voice is due in part to having been choked as badly as he was.

“Safer for me than you.” He replies. He withdraws his hand from Shiro’s mouth, cupping his fingers around his jaw. Upset pulls at him when he sees the twist of stress tugging at the Alpha’s lips.

“Keith’s right,” Shiro whispers, leaning his head just slightly to push his face more fully into the cradle of Lance’s palm, “it’s not safe.”

Lance shrugs a little, “It will be safer for me than you two.” He reiterates, “I’ll only be a few hours, and I--” he cuts himself off with a shuddering breath. He lets it out slowly, thinking carefully how best to get them to think rather than react. He knows this goes against their instincts as his chosen Alphas, he gets that, but he can’t go through that again. He just can’t.

“Okay…” He sighs, “Look. If you two were in my shoes, you’d be doing the same, okay?” When they continue to frown at him, he continues, shakily, “What if this were an Alpha-moon?”

“What?” It’s almost funny when they do that.

“An Alpha-moon… you gotta think there’s something like that out here, right? Anyway,” Lance shakes his head, and looks between them as he explains, “What if it had been me? What if I were the one sitting in this bed with bruises on my neck – or worse? Would you be keen to let it happen again? Would you want to put me in danger like that again?”

They’re shaking their heads and Lance can feel the shudder that works its way down Shiro’s body imagining it. The wrongness of it.

“Alright, then.” Lance says, nodding his head once, “I’m not asking you to like it, but I am asking you to trust me to know what’s best in this particular situation.”

That does it. It changes something in the air around them. Lance thinks that perhaps he’s being a little unfair to ask this of them, but he also knows that his mind will be far calmer, far clearer, knowing that they are here, in this room, safe from the Omega’s of this moon. He knows that if the positions were reversed, they would take the same precaution.

“I don’t like it.” Keith confirms, and Lance swings his gaze over to him. He breath catches as the Alpha brings his fingers to his lips. He whispers into them the promise, “But I trust you.”

Lance’s eyes sting and he blinks them rapidly as Keith continues to flutter kisses into his skin. The Omega turns back to Shiro.

Lance can see the conflict in his eyes. His Alpha desire to keep his chosen mate safe warring with the knowledge that Lance is capable of looking after himself. Eventually, he huffs out a groan, titling his head back and raising a hand to cover his eyes. Lance’s hand slips down to clasp the side of his neck, just over his claiming mark.

“I trust you.” He murmurs, scrubbing his hand over his face. Lifts his shoulder and turns his head to kiss Lances hand, “Just be safe.”

Lance smiles at him, sliding his hand back up to his cheek. “Thank you.” He whispers.

Chapter Text

They say goodbye to Lance at the door. He tuts at them as they grumpily grumble at him pressing cool hands to their sleep-warm cheeks and a chaste kiss to their lips before he heads out, his eyes warm with affection.

Keith makes his way back to the bed almost immediately after Lance’s departure, but Shiro stands by the door, shoulder hunched and looking a little lost. Keith curls up in the bed, sliding the sheet back up to his shoulder and watches his mate. Observes the way his muscles are bunching and relaxing at intervals.

Last night had been…

He hadn’t expected his own reaction to the Omega attacker. The fear had been like being doused in ice water, all-encompassing and shocking. It had been an instinctual reaction to feeling that unknown Omega pressed fully into himself. His sword hand had become weak, dropping his beloved knife to the alley floor and he was thrown back to a time he would much rather forget.

He shudders, pulling the sheet up to his nose and breathing in the combined scent of himself, his mate and his promised Omega. It calms him.

And then… and then… Lance, oh. He was beautiful.

The way he had bared himself to them completely. Unashamed, if hesitant. He had near glowed in the low lighting, but he hadn’t trembled before them. He had stood firm and as calm as they could have ever expected. The way he’d allowed their touch had been breathtaking. The way he’d welcomed them to gently explore his scars had humbled Keith. It had humbled him further when he’d allowed further soft touches as they’d curled around each other to sleep.

Keith had been on one side of Lance, Shiro on the other in a parody of the first night they had ever shared a bed. Keith had curled into Lance’s front with the Omega’s scarred arm slung over his waist while Shiro had curled up behind them.

Staring at the door and waiting for sleep to claim him while his brain whirred, Lance’s arm had tightened around him to draw him closer still. He’d smiled as Lance released a gentle calming scent and nosed at his nape. Not thinking, Keith had wrapped a hand over the arm on his waist, finger just barely brushing at the scar under the Omega’s pyjama sleeve. He had stilled as Lance tensed, then relaxed, nudging his arm a little more fully into Keith’s hold and making the Alpha’s hand skitter over the scarring there.

He's brought back to the present as Shiro finally shifts from his vigil at the door. He turns just slightly to stare at Keith on the bed.

“I’m okay.” Keith says. It an almost reflexive reaction to the tension around his mate’s eyes.

Shiro smiles at him and approaches the bed, sitting its side and running a tender hand through his hair. Keith leans into the touch, grumbling gently.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks quietly.

Keith shakes his head after a moment’s thought. “Too fresh.” He confesses.

Shiro nods, hand still coursing through his hair. They stay like that long enough that Keith can feel himself start to drowse again.

It’s not something the team knows about, but often, after a mission, after the adrenaline wears off, Keith will curl up in bed and sleep for most of a day. He can feel himself drifting, lulled by the scent of his mate and Omega.

The way Lance’s scent slots in with theirs feels so disgustingly right. It makes his heart ache.

He thinks about the smile Lance had thrown at them this morning, the way it had lit his face and the blush across his cheeks and tinting his ears. The happy scent he’d released as he’d stared down at them.

“Takashi?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you…” he trails off, eyes opening to look at Shiro, “Lance.” Shiro raises his eyebrows, inviting him to continue. Keith pushes himself up into a sitting position and his mate’s hand grips his knee instead.

“I-I think he’s in love, uhm, with us.” Shiro’s hand tightens on his leg.

“That’s a good thing, right?” He asks, tone low.

Keith nods, “I, uh,” he scratches at his nose, casting his eyes down and away, “I’m pretty sure I feel the same way for him.”

He doesn’t quite understand why he’s hesitant to confess this to Shiro. This is all or nothing for them, too. He thinks that maybe he just doesn’t want to be falling alone.

Shiro’s thumb sweeps back and forth on his knee and he ducks his head to catch Keith’s gaze. The look in his mate’s eyes is raw. His mouth turns ever up so slightly.

“Me too.” He whispers.

Keith nods, his hands shake a little. “Is-is what we’re doing okay? I mean, like… When we get back to Earth, what if--”

“Hey.” Shiro reaches up to grasp Keith’s hands in his, where they have begun picking at the sheet in his lap. “He said he’s sure on us too, remember? Anything that comes after, we’ll deal. We always do, yeah?”

Keith stares at him. “How are you so certain?”

Shiro shrugs one shoulder, the muscles rolling in a way that makes Keith mouth go dry. “I just am. We have to be. The team doesn’t seem to have much to say about it – Hunk only warned us not to play around with him, which we’re not, right?” Keith shakes his head, “Right, so, you’ve got to believe, once all this is over, people are only going to care that we’re happy – all three of us. And if not,” he lifts his shoulder again, shuffling along the edge of the bed to wrap his arms around Keith, “well, maybe we’ll just find somewhere where people are.”

Keith tucks himself into Shiro’s bulk, relaxing in the feel of his big arms around him and inhaling his scent.

“You know… it’s really annoying when you do that.”

“What? Comfort you?” He’s laughing.

Keith shakes his head, snuffing into Shiro’s neck. “Make everything sound easy. Like anything is possible – especially when we both know that it’s not.”

Shiro gives him a squeeze, “But it should be.” And Keith can’t argue with that.

They lapse into a comfortable silence, drinking in each other’s scents, reconnecting a bit. It’s been a second and Keith is struck by the sudden urge to scent Shiro fully, drench him in his own scent, wear Shiro’s on himself.

He turns his head just a little, nudges Shiro’s chin to allow himself better access. He feels more than hears the approving grumble his mate makes. He pulls Shiro up and over himself so they’re slotted together in all the best ways. With last night’s memory so fresh in his mind, Keith whines low and presses harder into Shiro.

“Hey, Takashi?” He can hear the smile in his voice as he gives a querying hum, “We have a room to ourselves and nothing better to do than… hang out in bed all day…”

Shiro stills. He pulls back slightly to look at Keith. There’s concern still etched into the corners of his eyes and pulling at his mouth. It’s hard to say if it’s for him or for Lance, but the way that Shiro’s eyes dip down to what feels like what might be wicked bruises on his throat, Keith thinks a lot of it is for him.

Keith slides his hands up to curl into Shiro’s hair, smiling up at him.

One of Shiro's hands sweeps down his side to idly thumb at the waistband of his boxers. “Are you sure?” he asks, tone gentle.

Keith huffs and pulls him down for a brief kiss. “On you? Always.”

Shiro’s reaction to that is always is a visual thing. His brows turn up, causing a dimple on his forehead and the smile dancing at his mouth blossoms into something blinding. He presses his forehead to Keith’s in supplication. 

“You or me?” He queries, hands already pushing at Keith’s underpants. Keith helps, lifting his ass and pulling his knees up to shimmy them down and away.

“Me.”

Shiro pulls back to rid himself of his own boxers and Keith follows him, hands grabbing at his hips, his thighs, his ass, as he lavishes Shiro’s chest with kisses and a roving tongue.

“Where’s--?” Shiro starts.

“My pack.”

Shiro leans out of the bed to scoop the pack from the floor and Keith wraps himself over his back. He pushes up onto his knees to kiss and suck at Shiro’s nape, relishing the groan his mate releases and the way he tilts his head just slightly to allow Keith’s ministrations.

Keith slips his hands around Shiro’s chest to rest his hands over his heart, feels it drumming hard against his fingers.

Shiro turns his head, lips seeking and Keith happily obliges. He sweeps his tongue into Shiro’s mouth with abandon, groaning quietly as his mate turns more fully, the hand not holding the lubricant coming up to hold his face. Shiro turns back to him, gently pushing him down to the bed and settling between his legs. He puts the lubricant up by the pillow, opting to run his hands over Keith more fully.

Keith loves it when he does this, when he goes all quiet in his awe and tender in his caresses. When he holds Keith like he’s something precious. He knows that Shiro is reassuring himself that he’s in one piece. There’s no way he isn’t just as shaken about what had happed as Lance had been.

Keith tilts his head back, wriggles his hips impatiently. He whimpers as the hot head of Shiro’s cock slips against his inner thigh. Shiro shudders, but continues his soft touches, sliding his hands up Keith’s sides, his large hands cupping reverently at his ribcage, pressing just slightly to feel Keith’s breathing. He sighs and pushes his head to Keith’s chest, kissing at his nipples and sweeping his hands back down to grip at his hips.

Keith spreads his legs a little wider, his cock pressing up into Shiro’s stomach as he settles there, pressing gentle kisses to the bruising on his throat.

Shiro reaches up, grasping the lubricant and flipping the cap open.

Keith’s still disgustingly glad he’d found it at the mall. They’d been making do with a substance similar to petroleum jelly. It did the job, but the lubricant he’d found had a better longevity and it minimised how often they woke up sore. He’s so glad he bought the majority of the stock the store had – even if getting it back to the ship had been nerve-wracking at the time.

His mate coats his fingers and slips his hand down to circle at his asshole. Keith whimpers, and, sliding his arms around Shiro’s neck, bears down on his finger, gasping as the tip slips inside. Every time they do this, he’s surprised at the way his body opens under Shiro’s hands, the way he feels so incredibly empty until Shiro slides home.

Shiro works to open him quickly, urgency in his every movement. His thighs tremble where they are pressed against Keith, he trails bruising kisses across his chest and on his mouth. He carefully avoids the soreness of his throat, save for a few chaste, apologetic kisses.

Keith captures Shiro’s lips with his, whispering into his mouth, “Now. Need you, now.”

Shiro moans and his whole body shudders. He pulls his fingers out of Keith, leaving him gasping and empty and swipes a little more lubricant over his cock, wiping the excess over Keith entrance, making him tremble.

He lines himself up, looking deep into Keith’s eyes as he eases himself in.

And oh! Oh. This. The slow opening, the way his body gives to this man, it’s potent. He slides deeper, grunting as Keith’s body opens too quickly, takes him too fast. His hands grip desperately at Keith’s hips and he searches for any discomfort in his face, but Keith feels great. Perfect. He rocks his hips, smirking at the way he slips a little deeper and the way Shiro’s breath punches out of him. He wraps his legs around his mate, hooking his ankles and pulling him in.

This feeling of total surrender feels powerful. It had taken him a long time to get here, under Shiro. He whines as finally, finally, Shiro slides home.

His hips twitch as he relaxes into the feeling of fullness and Shiro rocks into him in response, grumbling.

“Move.” Keith murmurs, kissing Shiro’s shoulder, sucking a mark into the skin there, and he does.

It’s slow, torturous, as Shiro ensures Keith’s comfort. He withdraws slowly and pushes back in gently, making them both groan. Keith throws his head back as Shiro glances across his prostate, making him see stars.

“More.” He plants his feet down on the bed, arching his back to rest his ass on Shiro’s thighs. His mate straightens, hands gripping hard at his hips and Keith lets his hands fist into the sheets by his head.

Shiro pulls out a little faster, until Keith’s entrance is only gripping at his tip, fluttering in anticipation. He drives home with a strangled moan and withdraws again, over and over until Keith is writhing beneath him. He pushes back into Shiro’s thrusts, bouncing against him and relishing the bruising force of Shiro’s hands on him, knowing he’ll wear his fingerprints for a week.

His climax comes quickly. All it takes is another glancing blow to his prostate and he’s seizing, body locking and cock spluttering against his stomach. It takes him by surprise, and he’s vaguely aware that he’s almost wailing in its intensity. Shiro fucks him through it, hips undulating into him.

He slides Keith’s hips off his thighs, straightening out over him and cupping his face between his hands, “I’ve got you.” He whispers, “I’ve got you.”

As he comes down, he shifts his hips, rocking into Shiro again. He hisses as his cock slides against Shiro’s abs, oversensitive. He grips at Shiro’s head to bring him down for a bruising kiss, then flips them, grinning at the ‘oomf’ forced out of his mate.

Shiro runs his hands up and down Keith’s thighs, face awe-filled as he stares up at him. Keith’s grin grows wider and he begins to move, watching as Shiro’s mouth opens on a moan. His hands tighten on Keith’s thighs and he looks down at where they are connected, watching as he slips in and out of Keith.

Keith knows from the other side of this experience how incredible that looks. He leans back on his hands, spreading his legs wider. The noise the come out of Shiro at that is deep and reverberates in his chest. He tosses his head back, finding a rhythm that will work for both of them.

He’s taken by surprise as Shiro’s hand slides up over his thigh and hip to grasp at his cock. His head shoots back up in shock and he drives himself faster, tilting his hips just a little to manipulate Shiro’s cock into hitting at his prostate on every downwards stroke.

This time, he’s aware of his climax approaching, slowly, inexorably. He watches the way Shiro brows draw up desperately as he chases his own completion, hips rising up to meet Keith’s, his mouth open as he gasps.

There’s nothing but this room, their panting breaths, the noise of their lovemaking and their scents. It settles something in Keith’s chest and he comes again, back arching and trembling as Shiro grabs as his hips, curling upward into his chest and thrusting twice more before he releases, painting Keith’s insides.

In the afterglow, they pet gently at each other, calming their racing hearts. Shiro tips Keith sideways onto the bed, softening cock still inside him, and sweeps a gentling hand up his side, then down his back.

“I love you.” He whispers.

Keith smiles at him, draws him in for a kiss. “I love you, too, Takashi.”

Chapter Text

Lance was right to leave them in the room.

While he had felt a little guilty about it, his mood was much better when he found haggling over the wares much less stressful as he didn’t have to watch other Omegas sizing up his Alphas – he didn’t have to hear them talk about the things they’d like to do to them.

He’s down to the last part and it’s not even halfway through the day. He was lucky enough to stumble on fine pieces too!

He slips up one of the less crowded streets, peering into every stall hoping beyond hope that he might just find what he’s looking for, though he’s pretty sure it’s a hopeless endeavour.

Shiro, it turns out, is a photographer. Lance has asked to be shown any snaps he’s taken since they’ve been in space once they get back to the Castle, and Shiro became all flustered… but the way Keith’s face had gone all softly proud suggests to Lance that he’s actually pretty good – even with the camera on their data pads.

According to Keith, Shiro was also a pretty decent musician; a violinist. Apparently he’d stopped playing a few months before Kerberos to really knuckle down into ensuring his flight simulations were beyond reproach – furthering the argument against pilot error, thank you very much – but missed it dearly.

There has to be one or the other here. Or at the very least something passable.

He ducks into another stall, making a quick scan of the contents therein. He’s about to leave when something glints.

He makes his way over to what looks like a bargain bin and grins. He reaches in and picks it up. It’s old, maybe twenty second century, but he thinks if they talk to Pidge or Hunk that they might be able to modify it enough that it would function like any other.

He fiddles with the buttons, trying to determine its effectiveness as sold. He’s pleasantly surprised when it actually turns on, albeit very briefly, a little blip of light. He see’s the stall owner twitch slightly in his peripheral.

He inspects the lenses and is gratified to see no damage. It’s a miracle this has survived as long as it has with everything going on out here – not to mention the odds of it being out here in the first place… maybe Slav can calculate that for him.

Lance carries the camera to the counter, giving the stall another perfunctory glance to ensure he’s not been completely blinded by this treasure, glad that he fails to see anything to indicate this stall will hold anything they need for the upcoming mission.

He pays for the camera – a bargain considering the stall owner seemed to think it was junk – and takes his leave after wrapping it carefully and stowing it in his pack. He should have commandeered one of his Alpha’s packs as well, but he’ll make do.

He has one more sector of the market to visit and he’s hoping to find the last bit of equipment there. If he can, it’s likely he’ll circle back to the Alpha stalls to grab the piece the Alpha boy put on hold and they’ll book it back to the Castle, the Omega-moon nightmare put behind them.

That’s what he wants, anyway.

The last part of the market is… not quite what he was expecting. It makes him even more resolute in his decision not to bring the Alphas with him. The second he turns down the street, it’s evident that it’s predominantly a… pleasure sector.

Lance’s heart just breaks, stomach turning as he walks down the path, trying find some kind of mechanical goods store. There are oddity shops dotted about the lane and he tries his best to ignore the sad, helpless looking Alphas as they sit waiting to be sold or used, to ignore the flinches of fear as he walks past.

The tears prickle at his eyes, he imagines Shiro in their place, imagines Keith. This is no place for anyone.

He stops in front of a store, steeling himself as he turns his head to take it in fully. I can’t have just seen… but he has. He has.

There’s a blinding hot rage that shivers down his spine. His canines lengthen.

He’s not thinking as he storms into the stall.

“Good day, friend.” The owner calls, coming about the table to greet Lance.

Lance snarls and points. “What the hell is this?”

The owner, a Beta, doesn’t seem fazed. She glances down Lance’s finger and smiles, “Ah. New in last night. There was a raid on a Galran educational facility.”

He’s, maybe, four. His golden eyes fill with what Lance can only assume are tears as he looks up at the two of them. He’s a beautiful dark violet, with little clawed hands and ears not unlike the Alteans, if a bit longer. As Lance continues to look at him, the poor boy shrinks in on himself and sobs. It’s then that Lance also sees a tail which curls itself over the boys bare feet.

Lance vaguely wonders what his pheromones are doing.

He can’t let this pass. He just can’t.

If he leaves to call the Castle ship from Red, this boy could be gone, lost the vast expanse of Space, sold like chattel.

He will not buy this boy. He will not degrade him in that way or cheapen his life.

He eyes the Beta. She’s armed with a blaster.

He considers the route he’s come, tries to think of how badly this will turn out, tries to be logical about it. He thinks of all the Alpha's he'd passed, all the stalls selling people.

He remembers what Sakcha had said at their first meeting during their private Cintarian conversation.

Age, bond status, love… it doesn’t matter much to the Omegas here.

The bile rises nearly choking him. He can’t leave any of these Alphas here…

Chapter Text

The Beta sweeps her eyes over him. He gives her stall an evaluating look. There’s all manner of devices here that Lance can identify as ways to keep the more unruly Alphas under control. Collars, chains, and things that look like cattle prods. He considers those carefully.

He’ll have to disarm her. If he can get that blaster, it’ll be game over for her.

He doesn’t know if she has muscle in her employ so he files that away as a factor for the curtained section of the stall.

He does his best to adopt a casual air as he wanders around the store, picking up or touching various objects on display for the subjugation of the Alpha’s she trades.

His hand settles on a particularly nasty looking piece of kit. It’s a collar, heavy, with sharp prongs turned inwards designed to tear into an Alpha’s glands. It almost makes him gag.

“Ah,” the Beta says, “that’s a particularly popular collar. A lot of our Omega’s like to exert control on the Alphas in their care and this one makes it easy.”

In their care…

He fights to control his reaction to that, taking calming breaths and doing his best to disguise his scent. Although it would be largely lost on her, there’s no telling what someone else might sense walking past the stall.

“I’m more interested in those.” He waves a casual hand at the prods on display. “I have a particularly… wild Alpha who need to learn his place.” He ignores the way his stomach lurches at his own words and instead tries for a cool, slightly disinterested smile in her direction.

It seems to work, as she comes around and pulls a couple of them down for his inspection.

“This one will deliver a small shock, enough to wind an Alpha, but not enough to completely overcome them. A lot of Omegas use this one as a warning.” She gestures to the next along the line, “This one has enough punch to subdue an Alpha long enough to cage them or tie them, but it’s short-lasting. And this one,” she hefts the last one into her hand, spinning it a couple of times, “this one is enough to knock out an Alpha for a good two varga.” She throws him what he supposes is supposed to be a winning smile, “Good for when they’re being particularly difficult.”

He swallows down the bile and reaches out a hand for that one. She hands it over and he gives it a thorough examination. It’s lighter than he’d expected, made of some kind of alloy. It makes sense if it’s designed for Omegas of all types – not all of them are built the same as the Omegas they’d run into last night.

“And it’s loaded?” He asks, eyes still on the prod, the cold calm of pre-battle spreading through him. He can feel the disconnect happening. It’s one and the same with the sensation of looking down the barrel of his bayard and knowing he’s going to be inflicting damage on another person.

Shiro was right. What he’d almost done was nothing like this. Then he’d been filled with so much rage, he hadn’t been able to disconnect from it. Now, he knows that what he’s doing is right. Just.

“Of course. We want our customers to walk away with ready products.”

He pauses in his inspection, then continues, “We?” He turns the prod, thumb flicking over the switch near its base.

“My sister and I.”

Two of them? Is that all?

He doesn’t allow it to make him cocky. They’ve been on missions where the odds have been in their favour, but still come out without the information they needed or injured enough for a trip to the pods.

“Is that a usual set up?” He spares her a glance, registering her quizzical look. He smiles at her. “You’ll have to forgive me, it’s my first time on an Omega moon, I’m learning all sorts of things.”

He’s thankful when her expression clears, seemingly none the wiser to the calculations Lance is doing in his head.

“Oh, yes.” She says, “Some of the Alphas we deal with can be quite difficult to handle, so a lot of us have help when they first come in. Sometimes Omegas, like yourself, will come and help to break in particularly hard Alphas with a dose of pheromones, but we do it largely on our own.” She glances over at the boy still curled in on himself. “Some of them are easier to handle than others. I can’t speak for other stall owners, but I think most of us have a small network to rely on.”

“And the boy, there,” Lance flicks the switch, watching with fascination as the tip of the prod lights up and a gentle buzzing fills his ears, “he’s an Alpha? He’s so young.”

She gives him an odd look. Then she seems to shake herself, wanting a sale, “Of course. Galra generally exhibit signs of their secondary gender earlier and they’re sent to the appropriate education facility. We only ever hit the Alpha facilities.” She lets out a sudden laugh, “Due to the structure of the Empire, the Galra check hormone levels from birth and educate them based on those hormones, so we’re always pretty confident whenever we hit a base.”

Lance clears his throat, flicks the prod off again, “And you only ever take one? Seems like a waste of resources – not to mention dangerous. I can’t believe the Empire won’t come looking for lost sons or daughters.”

She shrugs, relaxing her posture into something more cocksure. He almost smiles at the way her guard drops. “They don’t care. I doubt they even remember their parents in any case, they’re sent off as early as possible for correct education.”

Lance considers this. Considers how the Galra of the Empire throw away lives and yet how more guards, commanders and soldiers keep coming at them. It fits with his overall impression of how the Empire works. He shrugs.

“And you only take the one?” He needs confirmation, needs to know that this boy is the only one here so he can limit damage as best he can.

“This time, yeah, but sometimes we hit lucky and get a few in. He catch your interest?” She asks with a salacious grin.

He flicks the switch on the prod, watches the end light up. “Something like that.” He responds.

Quick as lightning he pushes the end of the prod into her underarm. He’s pleased to note she barely makes a sound as she goes down, he just barely manages to catch her collar to prevent her from crashing into the floor, not wanting to alert anyone that something is remiss. He lays her carefully onto the floor behind the table-come-register and turns back to the boy.

He’s shaking hard, hands up over his ears and tail tucked over his toes. He’s got his eyes shut firmly. Lance looks over the boy. He has a cuff around an ankle, but other than that, he’s unfettered. Lance reaches down to the unconscious Beta and rummages about in her pockets, looking for a key. He can’t imagine she would store it anywhere other than on her person, and as his fingers grasp metal, he knows he’s right.

Slowly, he makes his way over to the boy. He touches the boy’s knee, startling him into opening his eyes. Lance brings a finger up to cover his own mouth to urge him to be quiet. After a second’s hesitation, the boy nods, watching Lance warily as he unlocks the cuff.

“Stay still.” Lance murmurs in Galran, earning himself a surprised stare.

He makes his way over to the curtained portion of the store, grabbing the cattle prod from the desk once more. He twitches part of the curtain aside, breathing a sigh of relief as he doesn’t see the Beta’s aforementioned sister. She must be out on errands.

He turns back to the boy.

“What is your name?” He asks, kneeling so as not to appear any more intimidating than he must already.

The boy hesitates, “Kali.”

Lance nods grimly. “Kali.” He affirms, “I am not going to hurt you, but we do need to get out of here before anyone else comes.” Kali nods, still trembling and tail still over his feet, “I am going to walk out of here with you. You must not run and you must stay close to my side. Do you understand?” Kali nods again and takes a deep breath.

Lance extends a hand to the boy, glad that he takes it without much preamble and he hauls Kali to his feet as he stands. He’s a little shaky, but his mouth has a determined set to it that Lance has seen on Keith’s face.

Maybe it’s a Galra thing, Lance ponders, walking over to the stall’s entrance with the boy in tow. Then he remembers the blaster. He drops Kali’s hands to go grab it, tucking it into the waistband of his leggings and dropping the prod onto the table. He looks down at the Beta for one last second, before returning to Kali and taking up his hand again.

The Omega peers out of the store’s entrance just enough to look down each way of the street. He’s pleased to see its no more busy than when he’d first ducked in. He takes a calming breath and steps out, Kali in tow and obedient at his side. As they walk, Kali moves in closer so that he’s almost hugging Lance’s knees.

He can’t do anything for the other Alpha’s here. Not just yet. He’ll get Keith, Shiro and Kali back to the Castle and then they can organise something more complete in terms of rescue. Regardless of where these Alpha’s came from, regardless of how these Omega moons are run, this is wrong. So, so wrong and Lance’s mind can’t help but flash back to the look of abject terror on Keith’s face the night before. No-one should have to live through that or worse.

In all honesty, he doesn’t know what they’ll do with Kali.

He looks down at the boy. His hand is gripping Lance’s tightly, eyes darting all over the place. If Lance had to guess, he’s judging whether he could or should escape and whether Lance is really is his safest option.

“This is my first time here too.” Lance mutters, gratified that the boy looks up at him, “I don’t like it here either.” Kali’s eyes widen, but he says nothing, “Where I’m from, this doesn’t happen. I’m going to take you with us and we’ll see what we can do for you, alright?”

Slowly, Kali nods, small hand tightening further as his tail wraps delicately around Lance’s calf.

“Were you the only one they took?” Lance asks as they turn a corner and make their way back to the inn. He’s not going to head back into the markets after this. No. He’ll head the inn, grab his Alphas and they’ll make their way to Red. After that he’s going to open discussion with the Blade and Allura about these moons and what they’re doing.

“I think so.” Kali says. “It was only me on the transport.”

Lance nods, glad for that at least.

“Must have been frightening.” He says. They turn down an alley, spilling onto a busy thoroughfare which makes the boy scoot closer still.

Kali makes no response, but when Lance glances down at him, he sees his face is filled with a steely determination. He figures the training even the young Galra go through is enough to make them feel that any weakness is a failure.

He drops it, breathing a sigh of relief as Sakcha’s come into view.

He’s quick to bring the boy in, sitting him down in a chair by the desk.

Sakcha comes out from the office, “Lance, I see… uh.” He stops, taking in the boy to his right.

“Not what you think, and I don’t think I can explain.” Lance says, hurriedly. “We’re going, now. I can’t stay here a moment longer.”

Sakcha busies himself putting together their bill, stealing little glances between Kali and Lance. The Alpha boy from the shop suddenly appears in the doorway. He looks at them all, eyes widening as he takes in the small boy huddled in a chair.

“You bought him?” He asks, voice level, but Lance can see the undercurrent of… disappointment on his face. Lance is about to respond when Kali speaks.

“He did not. Honourable Omega.” Something in Lance’s chest warms at that, and the older Galra gives Lance an appraising look.

“I assume my Alpha’s are still in the room?” Lance asks. He smiles grimly when Sakcha nods then turns back to the young Alpha store owner, switching back to Galran to include Kali, “What is your name?”

“Jirak.”

Lanc nods, “We are leaving. I will be coming back with help to free others. It is up to you if you stay or come with us.”

Jirak considers, head tilting as he takes in Lance. Lance straightens his back under the scrutiny – a soldier at attention. It makes Jirak shiver, clearly having not noted any one of them as anything more than travellers picking up parts.

Still, he hesitates. Lance continues, “It does not mean you cannot come with us when we return.” He offers gently. He understands the feeling of home and if Jirak simply cannot envision leaving the place where he grew up, Lance understands – fights the homesickness every day.

But Jirak shakes his head, switching back to universal tongue, “it is not that I do not want to leave. It is that I do not know how.”

Lance smiles gently at him. “You take the leap.”

Jirak meets his eye. He looks so painfully young and scared that it takes everything in Lance not to just let the Omega in him take over, to assure this young Alpha, to comfort him. He keeps a tight grip on that instinct and supresses his scent. He will not sway him, would not do him the injustice of taking away his choice in the matter.

“Would you be able to wait for me? So that I may gather some belongings?” He asks.

Sakcha silently slides a data pad across to Lance to inspect regarding the charges for the room and food provided. He notes that there has been a minor fee included for Jirak’s stay and Lance smiles up at the big Alpha.

“If you’re quick about it, I’m sure we could wait.” Lance responds, signing the data pad an handing over the cash. Jirak nods and heads to the door.

“I will be less than a varga.” He promises, and then he’s gone.

Sakcha turns his gaze to the Kali, asking in Cintarian, “Were you followed?”

Lance shrugs, “Knocked the trading Beta out and there was no-one to raise the alarm, so I don’t think so.”

Sakcha nods and Lance grimaces, “I’m sorry, Sakcha. I didn’t think ahead to how this might come back on you at all.” But the big Alpha just shakes his head with a smile. “I assume they’ve not left the room today?” He asks, for a change in subject.

“They have not. I left the food by the door. They seemed… preoccupied, but when I came to collect the tray it was empty.”

Lance grins. A little time for reconnection never did any harm – and with how they’ve been a little concerned with courting Lance, he figures they’ve probably not had enough time to themselves otherwise. Hopefully they’re decent now.

Lance glances back down at Kali. He goes to him, going on one knee to look him in the face. “We are going to see my Alphas. They, too, will not harm you.”

Kali nods and extends his hand to Lance first and Lance marvels at that small display of trust. The Omega takes it gently and helps him down from the chair.  

“Can you let me know when Jirak returns?” Lance asks Sakcha.

“Of course.” He says, inclining his head and staring at the way Lance is holding Kali’s hand in his. There’s something like wonder in his eyes and Lance feels his face flush. “Until then, I will monitor any chatter regarding stolen goods.”

Lance nods, face bleak and turns to walk down to their room.

Chapter Text

Their morning is spent in quiet, naked company with each other. They are interrupted only once, after that first round, by Sakcha gently knocking and calling though that their breakfast was at the door.

They spend most of the time in bed, worshipping each other, relearning each other. Shiro only steps into the sonic shower after he’s feeling too sticky to continue – and that’s interrupted by Keith gently spinning him around, dropping to his knees and blowing him right there.

Shiro’s hands slip through Keith’s hair as he groans, desperately keeping his hips still so as not to choke his mate. Every time Keith does this, knowing everything he went through, Shiro is awestricken. The trust it takes Keith to do this is not small. He trusts Shiro not to pull at him, not to trap him and he never will. It’s a hard line to walk, but he will never do that.

He looks down at his mate as he takes Shiro down to the root, throat relaxed and welcoming, dark lashes closed and fanning his cheeks as he concentrates. It’s mesmerising. Violet eyes blink open to look at him as he pulls back.

“You’re gorgeous.” Shiro murmurs, moaning as Keith plunges back over his length, speeding up a bit, “You take me so well. Like you’re made for me.”

And it’s true. Even as Keith’s throat spasms around him, even has his eyes grow wet at ignoring his gag reflex, he keeps working. Shiro has never had a lover like Keith. He’s so eager to give everything to Shiro, to give himself to Shiro in all the ways they never dreamed he could, and his generosity brings Shiro to his knees – metaphorically and physically.

His knees tremble as his orgasm approaches hard. He gasps, and shudders and gently taps at Keith’s cheek to let him know. His mate does pull off then, withdrawing and finishing Shiro off with his hand.

It’s not as explosive as those first few rounds, it trickles over him and leaves him shaking, but it’s not so intense that his vision whites out.

He sighs, grasping Keith by his arms to stand him up and kissing the living daylights out of him, all the while careful so as not to make him feel trapped, always keeping the shower’s exit within easy reach of his mate.

“Good?” Keith asks around having his mouth thoroughly taken.

“Yes,” Shiro sighs, kissing down Keith’s neck to his shoulder and reaching down to fondle at his cock. He pulls back a little in surprise when he finds him soft. “What…?”

Keith shrugs, “I don’t think I have any left in me.” He chuckles. Something must show on Shiro’s face, some of the fear bubbling in his chest, because Keith gives him a fond smile, grasps his face and kisses him soundly, “Honestly, Shiro. I wanted to do that for you, and I enjoyed it. I just… I think you’ve wrung me out pretty well.”

And he laughing so beautifully that Shiro knows it’s true. It stuns Shiro whenever he sees Keith like this, all relaxed and happy. It’s so different from his normal demeanour around anyone else that it gives Shiro an intense feeling of joy to be privy to it. This side of him is becoming more and more common place around the others, this soft, gentle side of his mate and it makes Shiro feel all kinds of proud.

The difference has been most decidedly marked around Lance, but this side of him is starting to show around the likes of Hunk and Pidge more frequently. He’s less quick to anger, swifter to apologise and all round less tightly wound. He’s still more closed off around the Alteans, unsurprisingly so after everything that had initially gone down with the Blade, but even there he’s beginning to thaw.

Keith sighs and leans into Shiro, “What are you thinking about?”

Shiro shuts off the sonic shower, giving Keith a gentle squeeze, “Just… how lucky I am.” He says honestly.

Keith gives him a lazy smile at that and a slap on his ass, before stepping out of the cubicle, opening the door and wandering into the bedroom, beautifully bare. Shiro is on his heels and almost sends him sprawling when he suddenly stops.

“Uhm…”

“Could you put some clothes on?” Lance hisses. It doesn’t sound angry, more exasperated, maybe a bit embarrassed.

When Shiro glances over Keith’s head to find out why, his face burns.

Lance is standing primly to the side, having clearly figured out what they’d been doing all day and deciding that sitting on the bed was… not a viable option with the child at his side. He’s covered the child’s eyes as he stands there, looking all kinds of gorgeous in the outfit he’d picked. While it doesn’t highlight his scars, it doesn’t deliberately hide them either. And his face, oh his face, has turned a beautiful shade of red as he stares that them, very purposefully looking them in the eyes and not letting his gaze drift downwards.

There’s not trace of upset in his face, no reproach for they way they’ve spent their day here in this room. Rather there’s a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Sorry.” Shiro says, “Hang on, let me just…” He shimmies over to his pack and drags out a couple of pairs of boxers. He passes one pair to Keith, elbowing him just slightly at the way his ears have pinked.

When they’re covered, Keith also scooping up a pair of trousers and a shirt, throwing them on and glaring at Shiro’s smug face. Shiro does pull on a pair of leggings, but forgoes the shirt when he spots Lance’s run an appreciative eye over his chest.

“This is Kali.” Lance says, pulling his hands away from the child’s eyes.

He’s Galran and so small that Shiro feels his anxiety spike. Lance gives him a careful look and gently envelops them all in a wave of calming pheromones.

“I found him in the markets.” Lance’s voice is hard, “They were… he’s merchandise.” Keith startles at that, flitting his eyes between the boy and Lance. Shiro is watching the Omega carefully. He can see the lines of tension in his lithe frame, “So, he’s coming with us.”

The way he says it brooks no argument, but it’s the way the boy huddles himself into Lance’s knee and the way Lance runs a soothing hand through the boys hair that makes it clear Kali is coming them, that Kali will follow Lance’s direction without question.

Lance glances down at the boy and speaks in Galran. Shiro hears their names, but he finds himself staring at the boy with a kind of wonder. He’s so small. A very deep violet with elongated ears and a tail. His little hands are clutching at Lance as if he’s scared he’ll be ripped away from him.

Keith gets down on his knees to bring himself to the same level as Kali.

“Hello.” He says, voice quiet, “I’m sorry. I don’t know much Galran, but you’ll be safe with us.”

Shiro just nods.

Lance’s face turns a little dark, “Jirak will be coming too, we’re just gonna wait a bit for him and then we’re off. The room and everything is paid for, so we can leave when we’re ready. Sakcha will let us know when Jirak returns.”

“Jirak?” Shiro asks, leaning against the wall as he watches Kali watch Keith with wary eyes. Keith just keeps his place on his knees, quiet and patient.

“Oh, uhm, the boy from the market, the Alpha. He’s coming too.” Lance explains. He murmurs something to Kali and takes a step away to begin packing all of their things.

Kali stands looking bereft for just a moment before his face takes on this determined countenance and he takes a step towards Keith. Keith, for his part, doesn’t move, simply waits for Kali to approach him.

Keith’s always been good with kids, especially the younger ones. Shiro wonders if it’s because he never wants a child to feel unwanted in the way he so often did after his dad’s death. He tries very hard not to come across as overbearing or dominant whenever there is a child involved. Shiro thinks that it’s perhaps why Keith’s Commands are so controlled, so gentle.

The way that Lance is subtly eyeing the situation makes Shiro wonder if maybe Lance is making that same judgement of his mate.

Kali come closer to Keith, until the boy is standing right in front of him with his eyes lowered and hands clasped in front of him. Keith still doesn’t reach out, instead allowing the boy to make the first contact, though his hands twitch on his knees. Kali flicks a quick glance up and Keith, and Keith smiles warmly at him.

The boy’s shoulders relax a little and his hands unclasp to rest at his sides. Then the boy scents the air. It’s the only way to describe the way his nose twitches up on one side. It’s an alien look on a child so young, and Shiro’s eyebrows raise.

Keith doesn’t seem to think much of it, his own nostrils flaring to scent the air as well and letting out a gentle wave of calming pheromones. It seems to be the right thing to do, because Kali steps closer and tentatively raises a hand to touch Keith’s face.

“Hello, Kali.” Keith murmurs, smiling, “I’m Keith.” He brings a hand up to his chest.

Kali nods, eyes trained on Keith’s face, then his eyes widen and he says something in rapid Galran that makes Lance huff out a laugh.

Shiro makes a quizzical noise in the back of his throat and Lance says, “He said that Keith has pretty eyes, Galran eyes.”

Keith looks a bit uncertain at that, but continues to smile at the boy. “I’m part-Galran.” He confirms to Kali. Lance translates and the boy seems to relax completely. He comes to sit with Keith on the floor, quietly chattering away in Galran. Lance doesn’t keep translating for them so Shiro assumes it’s not of consequence and that Kali is just making conversation in the way that most children are wont to do. Keith seems happy enough to allow the boy to keep up his stream of talk and nod and smile politely, moving to sit in a cross-legged position on the floor with him.

Shiro watches them for a moment longer before moving to help Lance pack their meagre belongings.

He comes up behind Lance and puts a gentle hand to the small of his back, resting just over the scent gland there. He smiles as Lance sighs, straightening a little to lean the back of his head onto Shiro’s shoulder. Shiro can feel the tension running through the Omega and the barely perceptible scent of his distress.

He’s keeping it under wraps for their sakes, Shiro knows. Theirs and Kali’s. The fact that Shiro can scent it at all says more about how upset Lance is than his inability to control his pheromones.

Feeling brave and just a bit protective, he allows himself to press a few butterfly kisses to Lance’s throat, lets his arms wrap themselves around the Omega’s slender waist.

“What do you need?” He murmurs lowly into Lance’s shoulder, glancing down at the half open pack.

“Honestly?” Lance whispers back, relaxing a little more fully into Shiro’s embrace, “I just need to get off this moon. I want to go back to the castle. I want a proper bath and movie night… and maybe cuddles.” There’s a pout in his voice, his hands coming up to rest over Shiro’s arms around his middle. “But,” he sighs, “we both know that’s not gonna happen when we get back.” He lets his hands drop, half-heartedly rummaging around in the pack to make sure everything is in it’s place. “Oh no, it’ll be me facing off against Allura again, trying to convince her that what is happening here needs to be stopped, that it’s just as pressing as the war against Zarkon – I mean, really, how do you think that’s gonna go and--”

Shiro, well aware that Lance is on his way into a downward spiral about this, and probably losing confidence alongside, stems the tide with a kiss.

He turns Lance’s head, still there resting against his shoulder. Wide blue eyes look up at him, the words of whatever he was about to say dying in his throat on a quiet gasp as he flushes. Shiro darts his eyes down to Lance’s lips, feeling himself grow hot at the unconscious swipe of a pink tongue. He moves slowly, still not fully aware of what may or may not spook him, so it’s a surprise when Lance pushes up to meet him, mouth parted and tongue sliding into his mouth.

Kissing Lance awakens a thirst in Shiro he didn’t know he had. There’s something intrinsic in kissing Lance, something he hadn’t realised he’d been missing. It’s in the way Lance gives to him, opens for him and accepts him. He doesn’t know what he’d expected when they’d started this, but he thinks that he’d expected kissing Lance to feel hesitant, almost frightened. So far, it’s been nothing as he’d imagined.

While Lance submits to him, submits to Keith, there’s a fire there, an ember burning brighter every time they touch as he gains his confidence.

Now, as their lips slide together, as Lance turns into him, wrapping his arms around his neck and allowing Shiro to hold him close, there’s no hesitation, no fear. He presses into Shiro, warm and inviting. Shiro slides once hand up Lance back to gently cradle his head, and his scent deepens to something like warm honey.

It takes him a full minute to realise what it is. In all honesty, it not until Keith pointedly clears his throat that he realises how heated things have become. He pulls back and, with a sigh, rests his head to Lance’s. The Omega makes a quiet, disgruntled noise and tries for another kiss, but Shiro gently presses a kiss to his forehead, murmuring, “Later. We’ll continue later,” while ignoring the insistent way his groin throbs at him.

Lance seems to came back to himself quickly, needy little pants giving way to an embarrassed blush, though he doesn’t immediately pull away. His hands slide down to Shiro’s bare chest, resting on his pecs as he takes a few calming breaths.

Shiro resists the urge to look over his shoulder at his mate, but just barely. He can feel the way Keith’s eyes are boring into him.

Lance peeks a glance up at Shiro, his cheeks still stained pink, “Sorry.” He breathes.

Shiro smiles down at him, pushing away an errant lock of hair, “Don’t be sorry for that.” He says, “Never be sorry for that.”

The Omega nods, stepping away. He clears his throat, eyes darting down to Shiro’s crotch and swallowing hard at the tent he’s got pitched, “Uhm, I should probably, uhm…” He points at the pack behind him.

Shiro grins at him, taking a step back, and beginning to actually help with the packing.

Kali seems to be none the wiser of the scent of his and Lance’s arousal, or has otherwise decided to ignore the other adults in the room in favour of climbing into Keith’s lap. Keith throws him a lecherous grin, rolling his eyes when Shiro just shrugs at him and continues what looks like some kind of playground game of hand-clapping with Kali, while Shiro and Lance continue packing up.

Chapter Text

Jirak returns in under a varga, as promised. Sakcha taps on the door and lets them know that Jirak is waiting at the desk.

Lance gathers his Alphas and Kali, making sure that he and Shiro have the packs properly secured on their backs. Kali is remarkably attached to Keith, so he carries the kid for now. Lance helps heft Kali onto Keith’s back and carefully secures him with a blanket when it becomes clear how utterly shattered he is. He gently pets at the boy’s ears as his eyelids start to droop.

As they arrive at the desk, Jirak stands and immediately comes to their side. He’s carrying a pack that looks far too large on his slim frame and he has a wheeled crate he pulls alongside. He looks very young and very scared, but there’s a determination on his face which makes Lance smile at him.

“Ready?” He asks, addressing everyone. They all nod, a bit subdued. They’re all thinking about the journey to Red and whether they’ll come across any resistance on the way.

Lance heads over to Sakcha. He shakes his hand.

“Thank you for all your help.” He says.

“It is not a problem. Meeting you all has given me some hope for the Omega moons.” He smiles at Lance, glancing over to look at the small group of Alphas at his back.

“I need to pay you for the blanket,” Lance acknowledges, going to fish out his wallet, but Sakcha gently touches the back of his hand.

“Keep it.” He murmurs.

Lance smiles at him, sliding his wallet away. “Has there been any news about… stolen merchandise?” He asks, voice low.

Sakcha shakes his head, but his face is grim, “Nothing, but you should expect some resistance at the gates.” He casts a pointed look at Kali slumped into Keith’s shoulder, “They may ask you for papers of purchase, they may not. It depends on who is working the shift.”

Lance sighs, nodding, “Thank you for the heads up.”

Lance straightens and nods at Sakcha once more. There’s a part of him that wants to promise the big Alpha that they’ll solve this, but he knows it would be an empty promise. He has no way of knowing whether Allura and the Blade will be on board – especially this close to the final showdown with Zarkon. Instead he just offers him a smile before turning and addressing the group in his care.

“Time to go. Stay close and don’t draw attention to yourselves.” He touches the blaster he’s tucked into the waistband of his leggings, “If there’s resistance at the gate, I want you, Keith and Shiro, to guide them back to Red,” the Alpha’s open their mouths to argue, but Lance steamrolls them, “I have a blaster and I’ll lay down cover. You can circle back to me in the Lion.”

Shiro looks conflicted, but Keith places a careful hand on his arm and nods at Lance, accepting his judgement and Shiro relaxes a little. Jirak come close to Shiro’s side as they fall in line behind Lance and then they’re stepping out into the street.

Lance has to try very hard to not allow his scent to give away his nervousness. They cut through to the gate quickly, taking the same route that had brought them to Sakcha’s the previous day. Lance keeps his senses honed for threats, but the Moon’s market area seems to be particularly busy at this time of day and the few glances they receive seem to be more impressed than anything else at how well behaved the Alpha’s are – quiet and controlled as they follow Lance through to the gates.

There’s several groups of other patrons also trying to leave at the same time, and Lance watches the interactions between them and the guards on the gate. There do seem to be a few Omegas in possession of bought Alphas (and Lance’s stomach turns when he thinks that these Alphas will be lost to the vastness of space) and the guards are diligently checking paperwork.

Lance pulls the party to one side, crouching down to make it look like he’s searching through his pack for something.

Keith crouches down next to him. “What’s going on?” He murmurs, helping to keep up the pretence as he, too, reaches into Lance’s pack as if looking for something in its contents.

“The guards are checking paperwork for Alphas bought in the markets.” Lance whispers back, eyes glancing over Keith’s shoulder at Kali, “He wasn’t exactly a legal purchase. I’m trying to figure out a work around.”

And it’s true. His mind is working a million miles a minute as he thinks about possible options before discarding them. The only one that he keeps coming back to is risky. Very risky.

“Keith. I need you to remain calm.” Lance says, voice low as he grasps his hand in the pack.

Keith raises his eyes to meet Lances. He nods, jaw squaring.

“The only option I can come up with that might work, is passing him off as ours.”

Keith’s brows knit together, “Ours?”

The Omega sighs, “It’ll only work if the guards are different to the ones who were manning the gate yesterday, but I really don’t see any other option whereby we won’t need to produce papers.”

Keith stares at him for a long moment, then glances up at Shiro. Keith tilts his head, signalling Shiro to join them. Shiro comes down onto one knee and swings his pack around. Keith transfers his hands to that one as if they’re unsure of where they’ve put whatever it is they’re looking for, and speaks to Shiro in low tones to explain the situation.

From the way he speaks, it’s not that he’s asking Shiro for permission. Rather, he’s relaying the plan to Shiro in a measured way so that he doesn’t end up blindsided. There’s nothing in his voice to suggest any kind opposition to the suggestion Lance has come up with. Instead his face is lit up with a gentle kind of hope which makes Lance’s heart break for him.

Shiro nods once as Keith finishes his explanation and casts quick glance at the gate and at up at Jirak.

“I don’t think we’ll have any trouble with leaving with Jirak.” Lance says, pre-emptively, “He was never merchandise, he should have enough freedom to move as he pleases. If not we can cross that bridge.”

Shiro stares at him, considering.

“What?” Lance asks, feeling self-conscious. He tugs a jacket out of Shiro’s pack so it doesn’t look like they’ve been stalling, and stands, securing his pack again. The Alpha’s follow his lead.

“You can think pretty quick on your feet.” Shiro says quietly, eyes still ponderous. “I never noticed it before.”

That stings. He knows the team values his little quirks for observation, knows that they see that, even if the rest of what he does goes undetected. Lance smiles a bit self-depreciatively, “No-one does. I have to think quickly when I’m covering you guys – wouldn’t do for any of you to go down under friendly fire.”

Shiro opens his mouth to continue the conversation, but Lance turns and heads for the gates. He just wants to get off the moon. Once they’re off the moon, they can broach that subject again – even if Lance would really rather they didn’t.

The Alphas crowd in around him, Jirak still flanking Shiro. The kid trembles and Lance reaches out to touch the back of his hand. Jirak looks up at him and Lance gives him a gentle smile. He gives a shaky smile back and lowers his eyes to the floor again.

The guards on the gate are Betas. They wave the group to the front of the line, putting Lance in mind of airport security.

“Hi guys.” Lance greets. He has no idea what kind of alien – or alien mix – the Beta is that they’re dealing with, only that he’s broad chested and green.

“Good day, traveller,” he responds. Lance ignores the fact that he doesn’t include the Alphas in his address. The Beta allows his eyes to travel over the group and his eyes rest on Kali’s sleeping form.

Lance suppresses his nervousness and continues as if there is nothing awry, “I have to say, we had a very pleasant stay here.”

“Hmm.” The Beta taps a few things into the tablet in his hands, “The boy?”

“Hmm? Oh, my son?” Lance reaches across to gently stroke Kali’s head. The child burrows a little deeper into Keith’s back, though he doesn’t wake. He lets out a tired little sigh and settles. “Isn’t he beautiful? There are benefits of Galra Alphas, let me tell you.” He pinches Keith’s cheek to make his point, giving him an apologetic smile, “They make beautiful babies. Had no idea he was Galra when I picked him up, mind you.”

He turns back to the Beta and puts on a winning smile. The guard gives him a long look, before tuning back to the tablet, seemingly accepting Lance’s lie.

“Jirak.” The Beta addresses, and Lance feels his thighs tense, readying to take flight.

Jirak nods, “Molishik.” He greets.

“Finally deciding to get off-moon?” There’s something in the tone of the Beta’s voice which causes adrenaline to dump into Lance’s system. Something predatory and harsh.

Jirak nods again, shoulders shuddering.

“The Omegas will be most upset by your departure.” The Beta continues, the resonance of his voice taking on an even more salacious quality.

Lance scents Jirak’s distress, bitter and scared, and steps in front of the Beta to take Jirak out of his line of sight.

“Oh, I know,” Lance says, waggling his eyebrows, “he’s pretty, isn’t he? I just couldn’t resist propositioning him,” he swallows back the disgust at himself, “particularly when I saw how well he got along with my other Alphas.”

The Beta gives him another long stare, before grinning, “Indeed.” He taps a few more things into the tablet and opens up the gate, “Everything seems to be in order.”

Lance nods, and gratefully ushers the Alphas through the gate ahead of him. If the Beta finds the behaviour odd, he doesn’t show it, turning to deal with the next group.

Once they’re far enough away from the gate, once he’s sure that no-one can see him, Lance’s legs give out. Keith comes rushing to his side, grasping his elbow before his knees can connect with the ground.

“Easy.” He murmurs. “Easy.”

He carefully lowers Lance the rest of the way and sits down in front of him.

“Sorry,” Lance rasps, putting a hand up when Shiro makes to come down to his knees with them, “just need a minute. Fuck. I thought our goose was cooked for a second, there!” Shiro rests a hand on his shoulder as he gets his bearings.

“But it wasn’t.” Shiro says, fingers squeezing gently, “You made sure it wasn’t.”

Lance smiles at him shakily, nodding as he accepts the truth of those words. He swallows hard and looks at Keith. He’s still just sitting there, staring at him with a quiet intensity. Then he leans forward and puts a hand on his knee, giving a reassuring squeeze. It's a small gesture, but it's filled with so much warmth that Lance can't help the grin that spreads across his face.

Jirak moves closer to the three of them. He stands just on the periphery, looking in on them. Then he speaks.

“Thank you.” He whispers, tremulously, “Thank you for getting me out.”

Lance shakes his head, reaching out to the young Alpha. Jirak hesitates, but eventually puts his hand in Lance’s. “You got yourself out. Never forget that. You accepted our offer. You.” Lance gives him a huge smile as he drops Jirak’s hand and hauls himself to his feet. He blows out a breath, “If you had decided to stay, that would have been your choice too,” He grabs Keith by the arm and pulls him upright, grinning at the way he wobbles with the shifting weight of Kali on his back, “you have the right to make your own choices and we’ll make sure you can keep on doing that, no matter what.”

Jirak graces him with a quiet smile as he takes that in, face flushing in that beautifully curious way.

“Now,” Lance claps his hands and starts walking again, “Have you ever been off-moon before, Jirak?” Jirak shakes his head, “Oh, you’re in for a treat then.” He gives his Alphas a mischievous grin before turning his attention back to the boy, “Ever heard of Voltron?”

Chapter Text

When they get back to the castle, Allura surprises Keith by meeting them at Red’s hangar.

Lance had done a fine job of relaying the largely successful mission debrief from Red’s cockpit, while also making it clear that they would be going back to free the moons. The way he’d stood in front of the comms, back ram-rod straight and shoulders back with his scars on display had done things to Keith.

He’d delivered the cruelty of the ‘soft’ Omega moon to Allura with such fine detail that Keith had been able to see the way her face had hardened, her skin paling.

She had cast careful glances at Shiro and himself, as if trying to gauge if they were indeed as unhurt as Lance had assured her they were. It was nice, seeing that expression of worry on her face directed at him after everything that had occurred when his Galra heritage had come to light. She had thrown her eye around everything else she could see of Red when Lance had gone on to say that they had picked up two passengers, but the Omega had ushered the two boys into the sleep quarters before starting the call.

Lance signed off with a sloppy salute and they had continued their journey back to castle.

As Red touches down in the bay, the doors to the castle proper swish open and Allura hurries over as Red lowers her head to allow them to exit.

Before her jaw opens, Lance turns to them, “Hang back a second,” he looks at the two young Alphas in their care, “I don’t want them to get too overwhelmed.”

Then he steps down the gangplank to greet Allura. They exchange a few quiet words, Allura’s pretty face frowning until Lance says something that makes her pull a hand up to her mouth in shock. When she brings her hand back down, Keith thinks he sees her query “A child?” but their words are too quiet to fully discern.

Lance nods, and waves them down.

Keith has Kali’s hand in his as the kid stumbles a little down to where Allura and Lance stand, while Jirak follows and Shiro brings up the rear.

Allura takes them in, her eyes flitting over Shiro and Keith. Her gaze lingers for just a second too long at his throat before moving on to take in the kids.

She gives Jirak a careful once over. He’s a little on the skinny side by Keith’s reckoning, but nothing a good meal and a safe bed won’t fix. He keeps his gaze lowered to the floor and his hands tremble when Keith turns to look at him. Knowing how it feels to be the centre of attention when it’s the last thing desired, he rips his own gaze away, just as Allura turns her attention to Kali. He tucks himself a little more tightly into Keith’s side and his small hand clutches at his own just a little bit harder as the princess continues to gaze at him, though he peeks at her around Keith’s arm, interest clear on his own face. His ears twitch and Allura’s mouth tics as though she might smile.

Eventually, she raises her head and addresses the paladins, “It seems that you have all had a tough couple of quintants. I have contacted the Blade at Lance’s behest and they should arrive within the next few varga.” She gives them all a hard stare, “In the meantime, I would like for you to unpack the equipment,” Keith almost rolls his eyes, “and then go and take a rest. You have done enough, just now, paladins.”

Keith blinks in surprise. I don’t think she’s ever told us to rest. When he throws a bewildered look at Shiro, he can see he’s computing her words in much the same way he is.

Lance nods and begins to take the packs. Keith goes to intercept one of them but the Omega all but snatches it out of his reach, “Nope,” he pops the ‘p’, “No. Take them to the common room or the galley, I’ll sort this out. Allura, could you gather everyone who’s on board in the bridge? I want to, uh,” he glances at the young Alphas carefully, “notify them of a few things before anything else.”

Keith smiles at him.

Lance is trying his hardest to ease the kids into this.

Kali’s little hand twitches in his own and he looks down at the boy. He’s still tucked tight into his side, though he’s turned his attention to Lance.

On the journey back, Kali had woken as they’d reached Red, apparently just needing a varga or two of sleep to feel largely recharged – it’s something that he wants to ask the Blade about. He’d assumed that he, himself, was just a night owl, but now he’s wondering if there’s something to be said for Galran DNA.

Once they had returned to Red and Keith had needed to man the controls, Lance had taken Kali off his back and shown him and Jirak the sleeping quarters. The little boy hadn’t quailed from Lance, but he’d become more standoffish. He had allowed gentle touches to get him moving and situated and Lance was quick to back off every time his scent or body language broadcasted how uncomfortable he was, which had seemed to help.

It's evident in the way that Kali is watching Lance now that there’s a simmering curiosity, an interest in this Omega so different from the others on the moon, and a healthy dose of yearning. When he glances at Jirak, he can see the same emotions flitting over his face as he watches Lance pick up their stuff and follow Allura out.

Keith knows that look, knows that feeling. The one that causes a questioning of everything because everything so far has just sucked and now there’s this person who is offering such a huge amount of care without making the feeling of brokenness surface.

After Lance’s departure, Shiro comes to his side.

“He’s a bit of a whirlwind, huh?” He says, an affectionate smile on his face.

“Tell me about it.”

“We should do as he’s suggested. Might be worth seeing if we have any kid-friendly movies.” He nods his head towards Kali.

Keith nods and starts walking towards the door into the castle. It swishes open at his approach, and he leads the way down to the common room.

They’re about halfway there when it suddenly registers in Keith’s mind that the translators in the castle will mean that he can speak to Kali properly now. He’s not a big talker himself, though he’s always had a lot of time for scared kids.

“Do you know any movies, Kali?” The boy looks up at him briefly with wide eyes, before he nods. “Do you have any favourites?”

He nods again, opening his mouth to say, “Merla.”

Keith smiles, “Do you know if we have that one, Shiro?”

His mate shrugs, “Beats me, we can check.”

The rest of the walk is quiet, save for the way their footsteps resound on the flooring and the squeaky wheel on Jirak’s luggage. Shiro’s hand reaches out to give his own a brief squeeze before the door to the common area opens, and he heads straight to the entertainment system.

Keith turns to look at the boys, intending to tell them to make themselves at home, but stops short at the awe on their faces. He smiles at them, “Once Lance has spoken to the others, we’ll find rooms for you and take you around the castle a bit. There’s a lot to see.”

They both nod at him distractedly, eyes flying this way and that, taking in the open space and the way that the viewing screen flips out of the wall and the shelves that appear and disappear at Shiro’s touch.

Keith carefully takes Jirak’s belongings from him to stow at the curved end of the couch and then beckons them over.

The boys come to the sofa quickly, sinking into it appreciatively as Shiro finally finds the film that Kali had mentioned – no doubt Pidge has been scouring all sorts of pirated wavelengths to find as many movies as she has.

Jirak settles a comfortable distance away while Kali tucks himself into Keith’s side again, clearly gaining comfort from his proximity. It warms something in Keith to have that trust placed in him – he must be giving off the right pheromones for the kid. If he concentrates, he can feel the way he’s emitting gentle waves of calming scent. It’s not something he was ever taught to do and it’s not something he has ever done often, but he realises his own desire not to come across as a threat to children – to never be a threat to children – supersedes his lack of tutelage.

Shiro smiles at him as he presses play.

Merla, it turns out, is about a space whale. It’s the only way Keith can explain it. A large creature with a wide-finned tail and flowing dorsal and pectoral fins swimming around space. It’s animated, so Keith doesn’t even know if it’s a real animal or not. He’s seen a Weblum, so he supposes that anything is possible. The movie has a nice flow and it centres around the space whale finding home – evidently a universal concept.

Kali grows steadily heavier as the movie progresses and when Keith glances down at him, he can see his eyes have closed again, the day having clearly taken a lot out of him. Keith knows it’s taken a lot out of him and he’s somewhat used to a certain level of danger.

Keith taps Shiro on the shoulder, murmuring a quiet, “How long has Lance been talking to Allura now?”

Jirak twitches, his eyes on the film, though Keith reckons he’s probably listening intently to them.

Shiro tilts his head towards him, eyes still following the whale as if hypnotised, “About an hour, maybe? I imagine he’ll be here soon.”

Keith watches the way that Jirak tenses for a moment before he abruptly stands and goes to his pack and wheeled crate. He rummages around in the crate for a few seconds, then stands again, approaching Shiro and Keith. He stands a fair distance from them, carefully unwrapping the parcel in his hands.

As it opens and catches the light, Keith recognises it as one of the pieces of equipment they had viewed in Jirak’s store, the one that Lance has asked him to keep back. He tilts it for their inspection.

“The Ome—Lance,” he corrects himself, “h-he asked that I hold this for him. I didn’t know if he found an alternative, so…” he trails off looking unsure.

The silence stretches for a few beats, disturbed only by Kali’s soft breathing and the movie continuing to play out quietly. As Shiro opens his mouth to address Jirak, to likely thank him for his forethought, the door to the common area opens and Lance steps in.

He’s beautiful, is the first thought that skitters across Keith’s brain. And it’s true. Like them, he’s still wearing the alien clothing they’d had down on the moon. He’d selected a short-sleeved, low-necked shirt which put his scars on display without making it seem as though that was his reasoning behind it, although Keith suspects that had absolutely been his reasoning.

He looks more comfortable in his own skin. More confident. Keith half wonders how much of that is a front, carefully casting his gaze over Lance’s face and seeing no small amount of weariness. His eyes are a little red-rimmed, but Keith doesn’t know if it’s from tears or tiredness. He subtly scents the air, pleased when he can’t sense any distress from the Omega.

Lance’s attention immediately turns to Jirak as the boy turns to face him.

Keith sees the moment Lance notes the equipment in the boy’s hand. His face literally lights up, face splitting on a grin.

“Thank you, Jirak.” He says, heartfelt as he comes close enough to take the offered piece, “You’re a life saver, Pidge was whinging something fierce when she realised that I hadn’t managed to get one of these - apparently it’s quite important to the whole thing they’re making.” He flaps his free hand vaguely as if to illustrate his point.

Jirak swallows, nodding mutely as he watches Lance. There’s a hesitancy in his stance and Lance patiently waits for whatever it is the boy wants to say. He stands there with the equipment in hand, his head tipped slightly to the side, intent.

Jirak swallows again and his hands twitch at his sides. “Thank you,” he says, “for bringing me here. It’s…” his hands stutter a waving, all encompassing gesture, although they barely move above his hips, “it’s so much more than I thought it would be.”

Lance smiles sadly at him, shrugging a shoulder. “You haven’t met the rest of us yet – an odd bunch if ever there was one.” Jirak’s face must show some negative response to that because Lance is quick to reassure him, free hand making an aborted gesture to grab at the boy’s shoulder, “All good things. Good people.” He glances at Keith and Shiro. It makes Keith’s insides warm. “We’re just a bit of a motley crew.”

Jirak visibly relaxes, shoulders dropping a little.

Lance smiles at him, “Now,” he looks at Kali, “I can see the little one is asleep, but what do you say to finding yourself a room? We have a lot of space on board, and Allura is more than happy for you to choose one for yourself. There’s a few free by the paladin rooms, but if that makes you uncomfortable, there are plenty more to choose from.”

Again, Jirak hesitates, glancing back at the Alphas still sitting on the couch. Lances face goes soft.

“If you would prefer, maybe Shiro can show you?” He queries, without judgement. “I think Keith is being used as a pillow, right now…”

Jirak nods quickly, eyes widening before he turns back to Lance, “I-it’s not—I don’t mean to be--”

But Lance just shakes his head at him, smiling. “I understand.”

Shiro stands, stretching his arms up over his head. He turns to drop a kiss into Keith’s hairline before grabbing Jirak’s bags. He joins the boy, refusing to let the kid take his bags, murmuring gently, “I’ve got them, let’s get you situated.”

As he walks past Lance, he presses a gentle, tired kiss to his cheek. Then they’re out the door and gone.

Lance turns to Keith. Eyes bright as he looks at the way Kali is curled into his side, all but burrowing into him. Quietly, he comes closer, reaching out a hand to stroke at Keith’s face.

“You’re surprisingly good with kids.” Lance says, voice soft and tender as he nods at Kali.

“I’m good at a lot of things,” Keith responds, hand coming up to rest on Lance’s hip, thumb tracing a circle into the bone there, “but it doesn’t even compare to how brilliant you’ve been these past few days.”

Lance’s brow furrows slightly at that, his scent colouring with embarrassment and confusion as his face pinks prettily.

“I mean it, Lance.” Keith says, “You’re so utterly brilliant in ways that none of us are, you have to understand that. I am in awe of you.” The flush on Lance’s face grows deeper, spreading down to his neck and he ducks his head.

“It wasn’t all that impressive.” He counters with a shrug, steamrolling over what would have been a rebuke from Keith, “I think we should try and get Kali settled before the Blade arrive. Allura reckons we have about two Varga, though if it’s going to be Kolivan and Antok, I think there’s a good chance they’ll arrive earlier than planned.”

Keith gives Lance a careful once over. He’s tired, and his scent and posture are still giving off an embarrassed air. He’s keeping his eyes carefully lowered, an act of deference that soothes the Alpha in Keith as much as it hurts him to see Lance do it. He decides to leave this chat for later, shelves it for when they’re all a little less fraught. It’s not right that Lance still feels… disposable.

“Okay.” He says, shifting and picking up the sleeping child, hitching him up so his tiny chin rests on his shoulder and he has a good grip on the boy. He stands, “Lead the way.”

Lance gifts him a smile, warm and gentle, then turns to take lead to the rooms.

Chapter Text

After Kali is settled, sleeping in one of the rooms next to Shiro and Keith’s, Lance takes the opportunity to head over to the observation deck for a bit of alone time.

He stops by his room to seize one of the beautiful blankets the Alpha’s had used to construct a nest for him and the galley on his way through to grab a mug of pseudo-tea. He considers going to the library to pick up one of the books he was reading, but ultimately decides not to. Opting to just sit and stare out at whatever the castle may be passing by.

He curls up on one of the window seats, banket over his shoulders and hands curled about the mug. Sighing, he leans his head against the glass and stares out at the stars.

He had essentially shoved both Shiro and Keith into their room, letting them know he would be on the observation deck for a bit, and that they should rest up. They had tried to gently coax him into staying with them, or at least getting his head down in his own quarters, but he had just smiled, saying that he’s fine, really, and just needs to let his brain turn off. They were understanding and let him go after each giving a hand a gentle squeeze.

He thinks about the courting gifts he’s squirreled away in his room. He’s shivery with anticipation at the thought of gifting them. He doesn’t feel like it’ll come across as rushed, not after the past week. He wants to give them, but with everything going on, he feels like he needs to wait for the right time.

Maybe there is no right time, he thinks, with a grimace. Zarkon could easily find them today, tomorrow, next week and then it wouldn’t matter. He doesn’t want to regret not taking the opportunity to give them his gifts when he has the chance.

He sits and debates with himself whether to present his gifts now, or after freeing the Omega Moons, or after they defeat Zarkon. None of those options have no drawbacks and the harder he thinks on it, the more convinced he becomes that the next time he’s with the Alphas, he’ll present them. The romantic in him wants it to be a big thing, but there’s a part of him, the part which just knows, the part that has complete faith in the Alphas and what they are trying to build as a mated-pack, that thinks that it doesn’t need to be. It will just be the next step that brings them closer.

He must lose himself in his swirling thoughts, because someone clears their throat in the doorway, breaking him out of his reverie and making him spill cold tea over his hand in shock. He looks up towards the intruder, his face splitting on a surprised grin.

“Antok.” He greets, standing and waving the Omega into the room.

Antok glances about the room a little warily, not stepping into the space and Lance realises that his scent must be incredibly strong in this room.

While Omegas are not particularly territorial over space, setting foot into a room which is saturated in another’s scent, a non-pack scent, can be very difficult. It seems as though this universally translates over to Galra too.

“It’s fine – I love the observation deck and I marked it before my heat. Safe space.” He shrugs, approaching Antok, “If you’re uncomfortable, though, we can head to the galley or something.”

Antok smiles down at him, bending to offer himself up for a scenting. Lance obliges, gently pressing his cheeks to the Galra’s and allowing Antok to do the same. “I would not say no to a cup of Shurlag.” He says, nodding at Lance’s now empty mug, “I did not mean to startle you.”

Lance shrugs again, “Lost in thought. It’s… been a long few days.”

Antok’s face scrunches sympathetically, “Omega moons…” he huffs.

“Yeah. I didn’t realise just how terrible they were.” Lance starts walking them down to the kitchen, assuming they will either run into more Blades or Paladins on the way or on a trip up to the command centre. “I mean, I read the debrief and I thought we were prepared! I don’t know how much Allura told you, but, well, we brought a couple of young Alphas back with us. I couldn’t just leave them there.” Antok listens, stride steady beside him as he continues, “One of them was taken from an Empire educational ship – I don’t think he’s much older than four. I have no idea what that means for Galra, but for us it’s… it’s young.”

Antok nods and sensing Lance’s distress, slings a casual arm over his shoulder, “You did the right thing. I’ve been trying to convince the Blades to do more recon on the moons, but,” he tilts his head back to hiss out an annoyed breath, “unless it’s about overthrowing the Empire, most of them are not interested. I’ve tried explaining to them that we need the allies, that the bigger the pack, the more likely we are to succeed, but it often falls on deaf ears.”

Lance nods. Until he’d got back from the moon and actually spoken face-to-face with Allura, he would have put money on that being her attitude to the whole thing too. Perhaps he wasn’t being totally fair to her. As soon as she had laid eyes on the two young boys, he could see the way her focus had shifted.

Lance glances over at Antok as they round into the kitchen. He’s wearing a self-depreciating smile, and he looks a little tired around his eyes. Lance stops, turning and grabbing Antok’s hand. “Is everything alright?”

The big Galra sighs, dipping his head with a nod, keeping his eyes downcast. Lance isn’t convinced. He squeezes the hand in his and lets out a rush of calming pheromones, “Hey,” he says, “you can talk to me, you know? Where I’m from Omegas stick together.” Antok glances up at him, “Omegas have to stick together – who else is gonna keep the Alphas in check?” He jokes, heart lifting at the way Antok’s mouth quirks.

Lance steers him towards the kitchen island, sitting him down in one of the stools, and goes about making another round of tea - Shurlag.

“What’s up?” He asks again, dropping the leaves into what they’ve started using as a strainer.

Antok sighs, leaning forward and scratching at the island’s surface absently. “It’s Kolivan.”

When he doesn’t elaborate, Lance makes a querying noise in the back of his throat, pouring the hot water into the mugs and allowing the leaves to steep for a few minutes.

The other Omega sighs again, more heavily, “He is… He’s has been a little distant over the past few weeks.”

“You’re kidding?”

Lance thinks back to the interactions he has seen between the two of them, frowning when all he can come up with are gentle touches and quiet looks of adoration. He’s never seen anything that might suggest that they are not utterly and completely devoted to each other.

He serves the tea, sliding a mug towards Antok. He wraps his hands around the mug, pulling it close as Lance takes a seat beside him.

He shrugs, “He’s affectionate, loving,” his face flushes, “but, it is as though he is holding something back.”

“How long have you been, uhm, mated?”

“We were courting for around a decaphoeb and, officially, we’ve been mated for about three phoebs.” Lance nods, signalling for him to continue, taking a sip of his teas as he listens intently, a theory forming, “My most recent heat was the first we’ve spent to together without interruption, without it being obligatory, and…” his brow creases, “it was not what I was expecting.”

“What was it you were expecting?”

He shrugs, shoulders rolling forward in shame. Lance concentrates harder on releasing calming pheromones.

“I guess… I guess I was expecting it to be… more?” He looks at Lance, the words spilling from his lips, “It was… beautiful, but I-I got the impression he was holding back. That he was treating me… oddly.”

“Oddly?” Lance queries, a sad smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Yes.” He flushes again, embarrassment plain on his face. “Us Galra, our mating rituals and cycles can be pretty violent, but with Kolivan… he held back from me. Both for our mating and for my last heat.”

Lance turns to face him, propping his elbow onto the island and watching Antok carefully, “And that has upset you?”

Antok’s face creases, mouth curling up into a frustrated snarl, “I do not know how to process it.” He admits, “I am not used to it. It makes me feel as if Kolivan does not trust me with all of himself – in the way I trust him.”

“Ah.” Lance takes a calming slug of tea, setting the mug back down with a hum, “I don’t mean to… presume anything here, Antok, but, would it be safe to assume that most of your interactions concerning mating rituals have not been entirely… consensual?” The Galra gives him a sharp look, and though it doesn’t make Lance feel threatened, he does lean away a little and hold his hands up, placatingly. “It’s an impression I have from the way you spoke about heat cycles when we trained together and-and the scars you have. I don’t mean anything by it and if your experiences have been something you have agreed to, then, fine, but if I had to guess? I’d say that Kolivan is scared.”

“Scared?” Antok reiterates, confusion plain on his face, “Why would he be scared?”

Lance clears his throat, a little uncomfortable. However, one of the things he learned in all the time he spent with Antok in training is that he enjoys candour. Lance half wonders if it’s a Galra thing – wanting everything to spelled out so that nothing can be misinterpreted. It’s definitely something Keith appreciates and Lance almost smiles thinking about the way his Alpha’s brow creases crankily as he tries to unravel a person’s meaning.

“I don’t know Kolivan well, but,” he reaches out to grab Antok’s hand again, squeezing gently, “from what I’ve seen, Antok? He is utterly devoted to you.” He thinks carefully before asking the next question, “What was your first response to him during your heat?” Antok gives a small flinch and Lance’s heart breaks, “That’s what I thought.” Antok looks up at him, eyes huge and fearful, “This war has done terrible, awful things to good people Antok, but Kolivan? He loves you. I’m sure of that. He just… he doesn’t want to be another Alpha that hurts you.”

“He would never hurt me.” Antok whispers, tilting to lean his head on Lance’s shoulder.

“I know that, you know that. Kolivan doesn’t. I’d guess that, if you showed any hint of fear or pain during your heat, he backed off, supressed his nature to take care of you and your needs. It’s a good thing, by human standards. I don’t know about Galra, but from the way that Kolivan spoke, he upholds pre-Empire beliefs in Omega-Alpha pairings.” Lance feels the frown on Antok’s face through the clothing at his shoulder, “He wants to take care of you. If it's bothering you, though, you should talk to him about it.”

Lance sits and waits, still letting out calming pheromones and allowing Antok to just process what he’s said.

This conversation does make Lance start to examine how his first heat with Shiro and Keith might go. He can’t say that he won’t be upset if he senses his Alphas holding back from him, hiding a part of themselves while he is at his most vulnerable with them. It raises another question for him.

“Were you, uhm, intimate with Kolivan before you mated?” He asks, suddenly, scolding himself as Antok’s back goes tense and he pulls back from him. However, his face is calm as he looks at Lance. There is a calculating aspect to his gaze as his eyes sweep over Lance’s face.

“That is a difficult question.” He says, eventually. Something of Lance’s confusion must show on his face, because Antok continues, “Intimacy between the Galra is different, I think, from what you are implying. As we’ve discussed before, our heats are… intense and we do not have the option of not… mating in one way or another. Outside of our heat or rut, intimacy is… not necessarily physical. Often times it’s…” he pouts as he finds the words, “a sharing of minds.”

“Literally, or…?”

“Not in the literal sense. I have not yet come across a race which communicates so. However, I mean that we are more open, more communicative with our chosen mate than with anyone else. We’re also more tactile. Soft touches, scenting, warm embraces… it’s something that I cherish dearly.”

Lance nods at this, understanding the desire to be treated gently and affectionately more than most, perhaps.

Suddenly Antok grins, “But if you are talking about intercourse, then yes.” Lance flushes hotly, giving him a shaky smile, “Kolivan is… so different from any Alpha, and he is never the one to initiate. Is it something you are considering with your Alphas?”

Lance swallows, abruptly nervous. It’s something that has been simmering in his mind since the bath, if he’s completely honest. He distracts himself by taking a healthy gulp of his tea before turning back to Antok to answer.

“I have… but if we cross that line and,” he swallows again, “truly mark one another, it will bring on my heat.”

“Oh?” Interest flairs in Antok’s eyes, “You mean that would happen with any Alpha or just a chosen mate?”

Lance grimaces, “Any Alpha.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

Lance waves him off, “So if we were to-to, uhm, have sex, I think we would run the risk of triggering my heat. Definitely.”

Antok nods, “I understand your hesitancy. However, is this not something you should perhaps discuss with them at least? Besides, I assume that there are ways for you to engage in intercourse without marking becoming a potential issue?”

Lance’s face feels like it’s on fire, but there is something infinitely comforting about having this conversation with Antok. Pidge might be an Omega, and Hunk might be his best friend, but neither of them would understand this indecision he has around sex. It’s about trust of his partners, he knows, but there’s more to it. It’s having faith in himself too. It’s about knowing that he’s ready to broach the subject at all before he brings it up with them.

The last thing he would want is to bolt at the first touch.

“There are,” Lance agrees, “I just wanted to know if it was something you had considered with Kolivan before your true mating. It’s… it’s not like it’s frowned upon among humans, it’s just that with everything,” he gives his bared arms a cursory wave to illustrate his meaning and while Antok’s eyes dip down to the scarring on his arm as though it is the first time he has noticed it, he brings his gaze back up to Lance’s face quickly, “I find myself stopping abruptly in the middle of anything that might lead somewhere. I get stuck in my head. As soon as their scents take on that tone,” he shivers, wrapping his arms around himself, “it’s like I’m back there and I hate it.”

Antok is silent for a moment, quietly watching Lance. When he speaks, his tone is gentle.

“Judging by the fact that you have unveiled your scars, it seems that this is not a matter of trust?” Lance shakes his head. “Then perhaps it is a situation where you must push through?” The blue paladin stares at him, confused. “When Kolivan and I first engaged in intercourse I was… jumpy and skittish, but he was so patient with me, slowed down every time I needed, in the end it was just,” he shrugs, “easy. I dare say that you Alphas will be the same.”

Lance thinks on that, wheels turning. It’s true. Each time they’ve been in any kind of compromising position and Lance has shown any kind of discomfort, they’ve immediately backed off. He wonders now if slowing down and not stopping is the answer he didn’t know was needed.

Suddenly feeling lighter, he nods, grinning at Antok, “Thank you.”

Antok smiles back, “As you said, us Omegas have to stick together.”

Chapter Text

The arrival of the Blades included Kolivan, Antok and two other Blade members, both Alphas.

Keith watches them warily, disliking other Alphas in their territory. He crosses his arms and glares as they discuss plans with Shiro and Allura. He thinks it’s going well. At the very least, Allura isn’t standoffish with any of them, smiling grimly as they try to come up with a plan to free the Omega moons without endangering the long game of taking down the Empire.

He’s realised that it’s probably not going to be easy. In all the planning, it’s become quite clear that moving forward with any action on the moons will draw attention of the Empire, if for no other reason than the Alpha-trade they’d witnessed there.

It’s apparent that the Blade have caught multiple communications within the Empire about attacks on educational ships. It seems that this is the first concrete proof they’ve gained that the moons have been responsible. It means that any movement to free the Alphas on the moons will draw attention one way or another.

The main advocate for freeing the moons has been Lance. He’s been adamant that this is not something that they can afford to sit on. It’s… done things to Keith, watching him pour over star maps with the Blades beside Shiro. The way he’s been standing up against the Alpha Blades, asserting himself when they get a little bit too boisterous in the meetings… Keith shivers, glaring at the Blades just a little bit harder. He’s seen the speculative looks, the interest.

Lance is such an incredible person, Keith gets why other people are interested, but he doesn’t like it. It makes his teeth ache with possessiveness.

He shifts from foot to foot. Lance is elsewhere at the moment, helping the boys settle in a bit more, showing them around the Castle with Coran.

It’s come as a surprise to absolutely no-one that Coran has taken the two kids under his wing. Both had been understandably reserved but in the few days the Blade have been on board, Kali and Jirak have been almost stuck to the advisor’s side, following him around as he drones on and on about the Castle and its history. Keith thinks he’s not-so-secretly pleased to have someone (someones) to listen to him blabber on without feeling like he’s bothering them.

Keith nearly jumps out of his skin when a hand touches the small of his back.

“Woah, hey. It’s just me.” Lance.

He withdraws his hand from Keith, apologetic, but Keith smiles gently at him and leans in to nuzzle at his jaw, pressing a light kiss at its hinge. It’s not until he hears Lance let out a shaky sigh that he realises what he’s done, and he pulls back, smile turning sheepish. Lance smiles softly at him, clearing his throat and nodding towards the group in the centre of the bridge.

“Any, uh, any progress?” He asks.

Keith shakes his head, “Not really. The Blades don’t want to risk it.”

Lance rolls his eyes so harshly, Keith’s a little concerned that they might roll right out of his head. Keith nudges his shoulder, “You ok?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah.” The Omega leans his head onto Keith’s shoulder with a groan, “I’ll be glad when this is all over.”

Keith feels his whole posture relax at Lance’s touch. He unfolds his arms, allowing his hands to hang down by his sides as he tilts his head to brush his nose into Lance’s soft hair. Lance’s fingers hesitantly take his own and Keith grins, gently squeezing the hand in his.

This has been another development since their return from the moons. It’s not that any of them have been particularly shy in their affections, but Keith has seen a noticeable uptick in the causal physical affection offered by Lance. None of them have talked about it, but Keith suspects Lance is trying to be more open with them. A darker part is concerned he’s pushing himself to be more affectionate with them because he feels that he’s lacking in some way.

Keith’s not stupid. He can see that Lance’s distress over intimacy is weighing heavily on his mind. He thinks that the Omega has been quietly mulling it over since the moon. After their slightly heated encounter that first day, anything that might lead to sex, other than chaste kisses and gentle scenting, is nearly non-existent. Keith gets it, appreciates it. They would never want Lance to push himself only to regret it later but…

Lance gets this contemplative look on his face when he thinks no-one is watching. Like he’s thinking hard on something. Every time he does this, his eyes get this faraway look, his cheeks flush and his scent ripens into something beautiful as he runs mindless fingers over his bottom lip. It’s almost always when the Alphas are in the room with him, during quiet, shared moments – in the common room, in training, in the galley.

Keith sighs out a breath, humming when Lance presses a little more firmly into his side.

“Are we still on for tonight?” Lance asks.

There’s something in his tone that makes Keith pause ever-so-slightly, before he nods, humming affirmatively into his hairline.

Lance unfolds from his shoulder and gives his hand a firm squeeze. It’s almost imperceptible, but Keith feels the way his fingers tremble just slightly. Briefly, it fills him with a sense of unease, then Lance plants a kiss on his cheek and the world around him rights itself.

Lance smiles at him, hand squeezing his again, before he steps away to join Shiro, Allura and the Blades.

The rest of the day is spent much the same for Keith. There’s not a whole lot for him to do when they’re in negotiation stage. He’s always been better at talking with his fists. It’s something he knows well about himself – it’s why he is so impressed by Lance’s inherent desire to both be understood and to understand others.

He takes a break here and there from his glaring, opting instead to stop by the galley for some lunch and run drills in the training room. He takes no small measure of glee when the younger of the Blade’s Alphas offers to spar with him and he wins seven out of ten rounds.

He’s sweating and letting out panting laughs when Shiro eventually swings by to remind him of their date with Lance.

It’s not that he’s forgotten. It will never be that he’s forgotten, it’s just that his inner clock has never worked the same way as everyone else in the team, and there are no clocks of any kind in the training rooms – unless the stopwatch counts.

He grasps the forearm of his opponent, dragging him up into a standing position. He claps him once on the back as he makes his way over to Shiro.

He smiles at the pouting glare on his mate’s face as he sizes up the young Blade, huffing a laugh at the way Shiro puffs his chest, unconsciously posturing.

“I’ll just grab a quick shower and meet you both in the common room?” He says, patting at himself with a towel.

Shiro turns to face him just as the Blade ducks out of the room with a bobbing nod at them, understanding easily that he has been dismissed. Shiro graces him with one of his gentle smiles, and gently tucks an errant lock of hair behind his ear.

“Yes.” He murmurs, “I get the impression that Lance has something he needs to talk about tonight.”

“Thank fuck you said that.” Keith huffs, a grin pulling at his mouth, “I thought it was just me.”

Shiro shakes his head, “Not just you.” He cups Keith’s nape, “I think we need to be ready for whatever is coming. While I don’t think it will be bad, necessarily, I think it might be somewhat… uncomfortable? For us and him.”

Kith folds himself into Shiro’s arms for just a moment. He sighs. “I think it might be about sex.”

Shiro nods, “I have the same feeling. He’s been… not skittish, but it’s like he’s been thinking something over the past few days, and I get the impression it has something to do with sex, too.”

Keith nods against Shiro’s chest, before pulling away and collecting his Marmora blade. “Well,” he says, stretching, “we won’t find out hanging about here.”

Shiro chuckles, agreeing, “No, we won’t. I’ll meet you in the common room. I don’t really know what Lance has in mind for this evening, other than a ‘talk’… I’m hopeful that we might be able to coerce him into the baths. He’s been running himself ragged with all these talks about the Omega moons.”

Keith grins at him, “He is sexy, though, when he’s all take charge.” He shivers, “And the way he won’t let the Blades push him around. God.”

Shiro laughs outright at that, “Rein it in, babe.”

Keith’s grin deepens, creasing his eyes. “No promises,” he says, snapping at Shiro with his towel before sauntering towards the shower room.

Chapter Text

After the meetings are over, Lance makes his way to the galley, hoping beyond hope that Hunk is there to bounce his anxiety off of. He knows he’s in luck when he turns into the kitchen and Pidge is cackling away at something that’s been said. His posture relaxes as he walks in, his anxiousness beginning to melt away as he watches them for a few moments.

He knows that Hunk has said that he’s not going to court Pidge just yet. Knows that he’s waiting for her go ahead, but whenever Lance sees them interacting like this, Pidge – all calm and soft around her usually jittery and sharp edges and Hunk – confident and peaceful, it warms Lance’s insides. He almost doesn’t want to disturb them, to intrude on this little piece of tranquillity they’ve carved out for themselves, but he needs to talk to someone about his plans for the night. He needs to put voice to the unease rolling around in his brain.

“Hey.” He calls, stepping into the kitchen fully.

“There he is!” Pidge says, raising her arms and half spinning the stool. She grabs onto the kitchen island to stop from going too far and spins herself back into position. “Big night, tonight!”

He raises his hand to scratch at the back of his neck self-consciously, “Yeah,” he flushes, “kind of nervous about the whole thing.”

Pidge’s face turns gentle, “Would… would they be your first?”

“Alphas? Yes.” He admits, “In general, no.” He shrugs, “It’s difficult to explain.”

Hunk leans over the counter and gestures to a free stool across from him, “Sit down, we can talk it out. I’ll get some tea.” He turns away to set about making three mugs of tea while Lance sits in the offered seat.

Pidge is staring at him, her gaze speculative.

“What?”

She shrugs, “Is it…” she glances at his scarred arm, “is it because of what happened at Beta-Traz?”

He nods, gratefully accepting the mug that Hunk presses into his hands, “Mostly. I’ve spoken to them about it. It’s… it’s not that I don’t want to take the next step with them – I do – it’s just that any time I… whenever we’ve done anything remotely heading in that direction, I just freeze. I want to be over it. Nothing really happened, I just got roughed up a bit--”

“A bit?” Hunk hisses, “Lance, you were…” he shudders, reliving helping Lance into the med-suit, “I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s so easy for me to forget the risk you Omegas face.”

Pidge has gone pale, her eyes a little glazed, “It was horrible.”

Lance swallows and looks down at his hands around his drink, “I know. I’m not trying to down-play it--”

“You are,” Hunk argues, “What happened was a big thing, Lance, it’s ok not to be ok with it.”

Lance smiles at him, “I know, and I don’t know that I’ll ever be ok with it, but,” he sighs, “I want to be able to move on from it. I want to move on from it with them.”

Hunk nods and Pidge slides her hand over to grasp one of Lance’s, squeezing once and then letting go, “Alright then.” Hunk says, “So, what is it you need to talk out?”

So much, he thinks.

“Are we moving too fast?” Is the first thing Lance gets out in a rush.

To their credit, both Pidge and Hunk don’t immediately answer with platitudes. They take their time, appearing to turn the question over in their minds. Nevertheless, they’re quiet for long enough that Lance begins to second guess himself. He’s just about to open his mouth to dismiss the question, maybe ask another, not realising how vulnerable this one was going to make him feel, when Hunk begins to speak.

“I don’t know.” He says, honestly, “I don’t think anyone other than you guys can know that. For what it’s worth, I don’t think you need to worry about them. They’d never do anything to hurt you.”

“It’s true!” Pidge pipes up, “After… after what happened, they were in bits. I’ve never seen them like it. After they made the nest for you, Keith spent a couple of hours running stupidly hard drills, then just sat in front of the Med-pod. He was there when I hit full heat before I hid away in my room. And Shiro – wow.”

Hunk nods, continuing, “He just paced in front of the pod, growling every time Coran came in to check your status. It was a miracle I was there when you came out, I don’t know if it was the exhaustion or something else, but by the time you came out, he was just standing there waiting for the pod to open. I managed to slip in and sit with Keith before we passed out.”

Lance flushes, thinking about how what happened on Beta-Traz had affected everyone on the castle and feeling more than a little loved. Hunk reaches across the counter to grab Lance’s hand, “I think you just have to trust yourself on this one, buddy. If it feels right, you’ll know. It’s not on us to tell you whether it’s too fast or not. The situation we’re in out here, we don’t know what’s around the corner, and I think if you have something like this right in front of you, something that makes you happy, you should grasp it with both hands. Life is too short to regret the things we didn’t do.”

Lance grins at him, eyes misting a little. He nods, “You’re right.” He murmurs, “And they do make me happy.”

“Good.” Pidge grunts, “So they should.”

“I, uh… I have plans to present courting gifts to them tonight.” Lance says, his tone low. He takes a sip of his drink, “I just… I spoke to Antok about, uhm, intimacy with them, about how it would trigger another heat for me. This soon after a dry heat, it could go either way.” He looks down at his mug as if that might hold the answers he’s searching for, “I just, I don’t know how far to take it, how far would be ok. I don’t know whether I’m rushing it – rushing us and what we could be, what I think we’re heading towards… I don’t really want to risk another heat this close to the Omega moons mission and the last fight with Zarkon.”

“Then don’t.” Pidge says, like it’s easy. Maybe it is, he thinks. “Lance,” her voice is full of gentle humour, “they are not going to think less of you for not wanting to risk these missions. If anything, they’re likely to find that part of you something to be praised.”

“Maybe.” He agrees, still staring down at his drink.

“No, not ‘maybe’.” She insists, “They will. I’ve seen the looks of admiration on their faces when they look at you, Lance it’s…” she glances over at Hunk, and as Lance raises his eyes to watch them, sees the way their gazes soften looking at each other, “beautiful.”

“If you talk it out with them, how you want this first time to go, how important it is to you that you don’t risk a heat right now, they’ll understand.” Hunk says, then frowns at whatever Lance’s face is doing, “Is that’s what’s worrying you? That they might not get it?”

“No.” His response is so vehement, it makes Hunk grin, “No, I… that’s not it. I know that they would respect whatever boundary I put down. That’s… I think that’s part of the problem.” Pidge hums quizzically as she takes a few deep sips of her tea, “Well.” How to explain it. “They’re both so patient with me, with everything we’ve done so far, I just… I don’t want them to feel like they have to keep treating me like glass.”

“Ah.” Pidge says, something clicking into place for her. “You sort-of-kind-of want to see what all the hype is about, huh?” Her grin is salacious, “Alpha-Omega pairings are supposed to be pretty intense.”

Lance blushes. He can’t deny that it’s been on his mind, but it’s not his main worry, “Yes, but no.” he mutters, “It’s more to do with the day-to-day.” Pidge raises her eyebrow and Hunk leans on the counter again, watching him carefully, “So, you know, general, everyday intimacy. Handholding, kissing, that kind of thing. I don’t want them to feel like they constantly have to ask for the green light. I want things to just come easy. To be… spontaneous. Really, that’s another thing I’m worried about rushing. I don’t want them to think I’m doing it for them when I’m doing it for me. I don’t want to feel like I can’t do the things I so desperately want to do with them.”

They lapse into silence for am moment, again, Lance appreciates them not jumping into offering a response.

Eventually Hunk says, “That… might be a difficult line for them to toe. They respect you an awful lot Lance, and you might be asking too much of them not to have your consent if you’ve been struggling with soft intimacy like that…”

Lance huffs out a breath, “I know. It’s something I’m planning to bring up with them tonight. Consent is sexy, but is it so… wrong to want to have one of them take my hand and, I don’t know, pull me into the common room for a make out session just because? Without any of us having to worry about crossing a no-no line?”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong,” Hunk rushes to explain, “this is definitely something to bring up with them. I think it’s important to keep defining boundaries in a relationship – if for no other reason than the fact that people and their preferences can change. It’s probably even more important when there’s three of you rather than two. I just don’t want you to be disappointed if it’s not something they immediately jump to do.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about them taking you at your word that you’re ready for casual, everyday intimacy,” Pidge adds, “if I were you, I’d be more concerned with how often they’ll do it once they have the green light.”

“Pidge.” Hunk warns, with a chuckle. Lance, for his part, fixes her with a confused stare.

“Oh my god.” She mutters, running a hand through her hair as she stares right back at Lance, “You cannot be this unobservant.” Lance flushes hotly, feeling embarrassed. He opens his mouth to offer a retort, but she steam-rolls him, “They are head-over-heels for you, Lance. Once you ok this for them, I think you can expect all manner of make-out sessions all over the damn place.”

“Pidge.” Hunk hisses again, laughter making his face bright,

“I’m serious.” She says, voice high as she throws her hands up, “Hunk, you’ve seen how they look at him! Just today Keith was watching him like he wanted to kiss him senseless when he went up against, oh, what’s his name, uhm, the tallest Blade?”

“Gorvask?” Lance offers, heart fluttering listening to her.

“That’s him! When you got all sassy and stubborn, god, I though Keith was gonna do himself an injury the way he was staring. And Shiro? The soft looks he’s been throwing all over the place? Gross.”

That’s what makes Hunk lose it in the end and he begins to helplessly laugh, resting his arms on the counter and bending at the waist as he tries to catch his breath.

“Seriously, though, I think if you give them the go ahead, they’ll go with it.” Pidge says, smiling at the reaction she’s generated from Hunk.

Lance smiles shyly down at his hands. His face feels warm, and his nerves are feeling less jangled. Talking this out has definitely helped. He knows he doesn’t need to get into the details of the whole plane he’s laid out for the three of them tonight for Hunk and Pidge to fully understand the step he’s about to take. He guesses that he should feel some modicum of embarrassment or shame in talking about what amount to his sex life with these two, but instead, he just feels comforted. Loved.

Nodding, he says, “I will talk with them about it tonight.” He sighs out a breath, takes a stabilising sip of his tea, “Now… about presenting courting gifts…”

Chapter Text

When Shiro and Keith turn the corner into the common room, they stop.

It has been transformed into a gently intimate space.

Lance has pulled out soft blankets and draped them over the couches. He’s found strings of fairy-lights somewhere and hung them all over the room. They’re warm and give off a low, ambient light. The screen is off, quiet and dark.

They’d just been talking about how it was a movie night for them. Lance had picked the film, and they were half expecting it to be in the opening credits by their arrival.

Keith feels his mouth start to hang open as he takes everything in. The setting is romantic, but when his eyes land on Lance, it’s him that sets Keith’s heart to pounding in his chest.

He stands in the centre of the room in a blue, oversized pseudo-hoodie and black cycle shorts which cling to his thighs. His hands flutter anxiously at his sides, and he gives them a nervous smile. His hair looks soft and, in this light, glints auburn. Warm and coppery.

“Hi,” he says to them, “uhm.” He tucks a stray lock of hair behind his ear. It’s starting to get long. “Don’t just stand in the door.” He mutters, eventually, flashing them another flighty smile, “I’m nervous enough as it is.”

He and Shiro come properly into the room, eyes on Lance as he glances at them, then away again.

“I, uh, I have something for you. Both of you.” He scratches at the back of his neck and then cups his hands over his scent glands there, pressing lightly into the skin over their faded claiming marks. It makes Keith’s gums itch to do it again.

Lance takes a calming breath and gestures for them to come closer. They go without any hesitation, stepping as close as they dare.

Lance grins at them and takes their hands, “Hi.” He says again, running a thumb over the back of each of their hands.

Shiro smiles down at him, raising his other hand to gently cup Lance’s jaw. “Lance,” he says, voice gravelly, “this is…” he looks around the room again, before returning his gaze to the Omega, “this is beautiful.”

Lance flushes prettily and clears his throat, looking down at their feet, “I wanted… I wanted tonight to be about us. All of us. I want it to be special.”

“Anything with you is special.” Keith says, blushing himself when Lance swings a wide-eyed gaze him. He shrugs, feeling more than a little self-conscious in the face of Lance’s devotion. “It’s true.”

Lance beams at him and squeezes his hand before letting them go to turn and grab at a box. He holds it out to Shiro.

His mate takes it gently and glances and Lance. Lance smiles at him and nods, gesturing for him to go ahead and open it. Keith watches with interest, moving closer to Shiro to get a better look.

When the contents inside are revealed, Keith glances at Lance and smiles widely at him. Lance smiles back and mouths thank you.

Nestled in the box, is a camera. How Lance has managed to find a camera all the way out here, may forever remain a mystery – though Keith is certain it was a find on the Omega-moon. Shiro pulls it out of the box with no small amount of reverence. His fingers tremble as he fiddles with the buttons.

There’s a screen and a viewfinder. The lens is large and free of damage. Keith watches the way Shiro’s face lights up as the little screen flickers to life.

“Lance…” Shiro whispers, voice filled with something like awe. Lance smiles at him, cupping his hands around Shiro’s where they hold the gift.

“I want to see your pictures.” He says, smile a little tremulous, “I want to see our world as you do.”

“Lance, this is…” he trails off again, looking down at the camera in his hands. “Is this what I think it is?”

Lance remains silent. It’s not a cruel silence, rather more a loaded one.

He turns again to grasp a small burlap-wrapped parcel. He hands this one to Keith and the Alpha’s throat tightens as he accepts it from him.

His heart in his throat, Keith carefully unwraps the offered gift. The lights catch on a red pommel first, then the sheath, and his breath stutters in his chest. He pulls the wrapping fully away from the knife before he pulls the blade free.

It looks sharp and clean. He tests the balance of it, letting out a quiet huff of surprise at its perfection. He gives it an experimental twirl. It settles something primal in him, this gift.

It’s a truly remarkable knife.

He slides the blade back into place and looks up at Lance.

“Courting gifts.” Keith says, voice thick, “These are courting gifts.”

Lance swallows. He nods, “Yes. If you will have me… I would… I would like to be your mate.”

Keith’s heart soars and as he casts a glance at Shiro, he can see the same surprise and elation on his face. This is where they were going, this was where they had both been wanting this to go.

“But.” Lance says, holding up a shaky hand, “I don’t want to put at risk the liberation of the moons or our final battle with Zarkon – and I really want it to be the final battle with Zarkon.” He sighs, hanging his head, “I don’t want to risk going into a premature heat before then.”

Shiro hums quietly, “So you don’t want to… make anything ‘official’ until sometime after.” He’s referring to an exchange of Bond Marks.

Lance nods and Keith watches him carefully. There’s a bright blush on the tops of his cheekbones.

He steps close to them again, right into the space between them.

“That’s not to say that I don’t want to have sex.” He says and the world tilts.

Keith’s breath stutters and he hears Shiro draw in a ragged breath.

“I want…” Lance reaches out to grab their hands again and they both put their courting gifts down to grasp him back, “I want to feel what it could be like. With the two of you.” He flicks his eyes up to them, then back down to their shoes.

His hands are trembling, but all he can scent from Lance is honesty. There’s no fear, just total belief in his choice.

Shiro clears his throat, removing his hand from Lance’s to cup his jaw and tilt his face up. “Really?” He asks. Lance nods, eyes flicking to Shiro’s mouth and Keith watches as Shiro leans down to capture Lance’s lips with his own.

The kiss they share is soft, barely a brushing of lips, but Keith can see the way it sends shivers down both of their spines, before Shiro rolls his shoulders, stepping closer to deepen the kiss.

Keith crowds in at Lance’s back, hand pressing gently into the scent gland at its base. Lance shudders and his lips break from Shiro’s on a gasp. Keith nuzzles into his warm nape, inhaling his scent as Lance’s head comes to rest on his shoulder. Shiro leans in to kiss at Lance’s jaw and neck, grumbling low in his chest.

Lance rolls his head into Keith, tilting to try and catch his mouth. When he whines, Keith takes pity on him and presses their lips together. The kiss is scorching. It lights a fire in Keith’s chest, and he rolls up onto the tips of his toes for more leverage. The move has the knock-on effect of bringing his hips into contact with Lance’s backside and he groans, long and low.

Lance stills for a millisecond. It’s enough for Keith to tilt his hips back away from him and for Shiro to pull away from where he’s peppering Lance’s long neck. They don’t take their hands off him, and Keith doesn’t abruptly stop the kiss, he lets it cool slowly before pulling back and resting his cheek on Lance’s shoulder to watch him carefully.

“Alright?” Shiro asks. His voice has taken on that lower, growling quality that Keith knows means he’s incredibly turned on.

Lance lets out a couple of panting breaths. He nods, licks his lips, swallows, Keith's eyes track the movement of his throat.

“Yeah,” he says, “yeah, I’m good, but, uhm… should we… uh. Can we go to, uh, your room?”

Shiro’s eyebrows rise a little ins surprise, but he nods and grasps for Lance’s hand.

They pick up their courting gifts. As they wander out of the common room, Keith Glances back. His heart tightens looking at all the work Lance has done and he shuts the door, pinging off a quick missive on the data pad to Coran to lock it down for them. They can come back later… after.

Chapter Text

Keith expected them to fall into the room in their desire. Instead, they cross the threshold into Shiro’s room slowly. Their hands are on each other – have been on each other since the moment they left the common room, really – and while there’s heat in their touches, he finds that it’s a simmering sort, rather than a flash in the pan.

They put their courting gifts onto one of the flat surfaces, reverent still, even with the low coil of heat in their guts.

Lance is letting out little desperate noises between kisses, like he can’t get enough of them, and when Keith feels warm fingers brush against the skin of his stomach he groans.

The door closes and the three of them are alone for the first time in what feels like an age. The air is charged and Lance is not bolting. It feels like another beginning.

They stumble to the bed in a tangle of limbs, and Lance pulls them both with him by the collar of their shirts.

Lance starts to tug at the hem of Keith’s shirt and he can see is other hand similarly occupied trying to disrobe Shiro, but it’s as if he can’t stop kissing them long enough to get them undressed. His hands are desperate, needy things, skating across their stomachs, over their backs, into the hair at their napes – it’s addictive.

He kisses each of them soundly and then withdraws just enough to say, “Get these off,” with a needy little whine, tugging at their respective shirts.

Keith pulls back and pulls his off, revelling in the sigh that escapes Lance’s mouth. He kisses it away, tasting it on his tongue. Lance’s hand presses into his pec, slides down across his abs to the trace the smattering of hair above his jeans. Keith’s hips give an involuntary twitch and Lance’s hand stills as he breaks the kiss.

Thinking that, perhaps, Lance may withdraw completely, Keith stills too, mind racing, but Lance rests his forehead against his and looks down at where his hand rests on the planes of Keith's lower belly. He lets out a shuddering breath and turns to kiss Shiro, as his fingers pick up tracing mindless patterns on Keith once again.

Keith tilts his head back as he swallows and his hips circle a little. This time, Lance’s hand drops lower, pressing firmly into the semi-hardness in his jeans and Keith mewls. He hears Shiro chuckle and then his mate’s lips are on his neck.

He’s overcome with the desire to have Lance naked and his own fingers slip under the hoodie to graze against soft, warm skin. Again, Lance stills, takes a breath.

“Alright?” Keith asks, shocked by how low his voice is.

Lance swallows, “Yeah.” He nods. Keith doesn’t scent anything from him other than desire and honesty. There’s no fear. Just a thick, honeyed scent.

Lance pulls away from them to rid himself of the hoodie and then he’s back in their arms. There’s no hesitation to his touches. Keith feels safe and cared for as his fingers dance again to cup him through his jeans. He rocks into the touch, watching Lance’s face as he stares down at his hand around Keith’s clothed cock. Lance’s eyes dilate so fiercely that his eyes look almost black.

Keith glances over at Shiro to find that he’s gripping Lance’s hip, desire writ on his features as he watches Lance explore Keith. There’s no jealousy, just pure want and Keith leans over to capture his lips in a kiss.

Shiro kisses him like he’s drowning, all tongue and gasping breaths. There’s an approving grumble in his chest which makes Keith’s knees shudder as they hold him up. Keith’s hips snap forward pushing himself more firmly into the cradle of Lance’s hand and Lance chirps, a high, happy sound.

The Alphas pull out of their kiss to watch him just in time to see him lick across his lips. It’s very nearly Keith’s undoing.

“Can we, uh…” Lance swallows hard, eyes still fixed on where his hand holds Keith, “can we get naked?”

Shiro’s laugh is warm, “Yes.”

They pull back, each of them working on freeing themselves from the last of their clothing. In his haste, Keith forgets about his boots and has to pull his jeans back up to his knees to get them off. It’s awkward, and funny, and Keith grins at the way Lance lets out a surprised giggle.

Then they’re naked, staring at each other, drinking each other in. Lance’s face pinks as he runs his gaze over Shiro first. His mate stands proud – in all ways – under Lance’s scrutiny. He plants his feet and straightens his shoulders, chest expanding, preening. Keith tries and fails to smother a laugh.

“You’re posturing.” He says, smiling at the way Shiro blushes, but doesn’t stop.

“It’s… it’s working…” Lance says, eyes dropping to Shiro’s cock, he licks his lips again, an involuntary reaction it seems, “for me…”

Keith grins, waiting for Lance to turn his eyes to him. He doesn’t have to wait long. Once he finishes looking Shiro over, he reaches out and traces featherlight fingers over Shiro’s adonis belt, down over the tops of his thighs and finally, haltingly, like he’s still not sure he’s allowed, over Shiro’s dick. Shiro lets out a huffing, relived kind of breath and rumbles low in his throat at the touch. Then, Lance’s eyes are on Keith.

He let’s Lance look his fill, stands tall and firm, chin squared. Lance gives him a shaking smile, though Keith can see it’s not out of fear, but from nerves. Keith gets it. It’s not the first time any of them have had sex, but this, this, feels so important.

He watches as Lance’s eyes trace his body, the way his eyes catch on his erection before slipping to his thighs, then back to his cock again. There’s a curiosity there, and a playfulness as he reaches out, tracing a swirling path with gentle fingers over his abs again, over his hipbones, before they finally, finally, grip him firm. He shudders at the sensation, his own hand darting forward to grip Lance’s hip to steady himself.

To his relief, Lance doesn’t back away from the suddenness of the move. Instead, he leans into it, sighing softly again.

Keith presses forward, crowding into Lance’s side. The angle is wrong for Lance’s hand now, but he doesn’t seem to mind, tilting his wrist to still be able to keep his grip on him, even as Keith ruts against his hip.

He feels Shiro leaning into the touches as well, a warm presence at his side, their shoulders brushing.

Keith lets his hand brush slowly from Lance’s hip, around to his ass. He doesn’t stiffen, instead he shifts just slightly, hips tilting backwards and Keith takes the invitation to palm at the muscle there. It’s firm from training, with the slightest give and Keith moans, head dipping to into Lance’s neck.

Shiro’s hand presses into the small of Keith’s back, a small encouraging gesture.

“Shall we actually get onto the bed?” Shiro asks, amusement colouring his voice, even as he lets out a little hitched gasp when Lance’s hold on him tightens and works the length of him.

“Please.” Lance says.

He steps backwards, a cock in each hand – and it would be comical, the way he literally has them in the palms of his hands, if Keith weren’t so fucking turned on – and leads them to the bed.  He releases them long enough to crawl onto it, and, God, that’s a view Keith will never forget. He beckons them forwards and they go willingly, crawling onto the bed.

They kneel together in the bed’s centre, leaning up to grasp at each other, all hands and skin and lips and teeth and tongue and it’s incredible.

Lance tries to give them equal attention with his lips and hands, brushing explorative fingers over every inch of skin he can reach, turning to kiss Shiro, then Keith, Shiro, Keith.

He and Shiro let their own hands wander over Lance’s body, too. Keith’s hands roam back to his ass, cupping firmly, relishing the way Lance goes almost pliant, his mouth falling open on a moan. Shiro’s hands wander his front, mindful of his scars. They rest briefly on his hips, and Keith leans his head down to Lance’s collar to watch with rapt eyes as Shiro’s hand wraps itself around Lance’s member. The contrast of Shiro’s skin on Lance’s makes Keith’s own arousal burn brighter.

There’s a heady mix of want and softness among them. This exchange doesn’t feel like a precursor to sex. While Keith is definitely hoping that’s where this does lead, he thinks he could probably do this forever, just exchange hot kisses and touches and have it never lead to anything and still feel sated.

But then Lance, beautiful, surprising, inspiring Lance, murmurs into his mouth, “Can I suck your cock?” And Keith thinks he might just pass out from want. He nods on a whine and Shiro chuckles in his ear.

He watches as Shiro presses a hot kiss into Lance’s jawline, lips parting so he can suck a mark there. Shiro leans up to Lance’s ear and whispers hotly, “Lie back, baby.”

Lance shivers and turns onto his back. He looks up at them with a little apprehension, and Keith can imagine the picture they make, towering above him, cocks hard and heavy between their thighs. It would be difficult for anyone not to feel intimidated, so Keith turns to grab a pillow.

He gently tilts Lance’s head up to slide it under his neck, brushing his hair away from his face as he does so and Lance’s face breaks into a smile as he looks up at Keith. Keith smiles back and leans down to kiss him, just because he can, because he’s allowed to.

Shiro situates himself between Lance’s legs where they have spread automatically around his bulk and runs soothing hands over his thighs, sides, stomach and hips. Lance shudders and breaks their kiss to look down at the larger Alpha, at the way he’s sitting back on his heels, watching them kiss, at the way his cock twitches at the sight of them.

Lance shivers again, no doubt feeling incredibly vulnerable, and Keith watches as Shiro leans across their bed to root around in the drawer for lube. He feels his eyebrows lower, feeling that they’d both understood that full penetration was off the table for now. Shiro smiles at him, then Lance.

“Has anyone ever eaten you out, Lance?” He asks, uncapping the lube as drizzling a little over his fingers, rubbing them together to warm the gel. It would sound perfectly conversational if not for the growl bubbling in his voice. Possessive and aroused.

The blush the question causes rushes down Lance’s neck and chest, he grips Keith’s knees on either side of his head to seemingly ground himself as his cock twitches and he circles his hips in Shiro’s direction with a high whine.

“No,” he says, breathless, “never. I’ve… I never… Only for my Alphas.”

Keith full on growls. It’s a domineering thing and it takes him by surprise, and he covers his face, embarrassed. Fingers tap against his knees, and he uncovers his eyes to look down at him, his face hot.

Lance is smiling up at him, “That’s why.” He whispers, “I’ve kept this part of me, for the both of you.”

Shiro rumbles between his legs, “How do you want to do this, baby? Do you want to suck Keith off while I make myself at home down here?” One of his hands disappears between Lance’s legs, allowing his finger to circle Lance’s asshole if the full body tremor that runs up the Omega is anything to go by.

“Uh-huh, yep.” Lance murmurs, legs spreading wider even as they shake with nerves, then he grins down his body at Shiro, hips shifting, “Though… I’m not completely sure you’ll need the lube.”

Keith watches as Shiro’s eyes widen, his dry hand sliding down from Lance’s hip to search questioningly between his legs. The low rumble he lets out and Lance’s answering sigh is all Keith needs to know that Lance, their Omega, is wet for them.

Keith casts his mind back to his schooling days, trying to remember what the sex education classes had said about this. Rare, he recalls, but not unusual if the Omega feels safe.

Sliding down the bed, Shiro lies on his stomach and grabs Lances hips, slipping the Omega’s knees over his shoulders. He starts with his cock, working his mouth over Lance until he’s trembling. Keith is so mesmerised by the sight that he’s taken by surprise as Lance breathes wetly on his dick. His mouth hangs open in an ‘o’ of surprise as he looks down to see Lance tilting back his head, neck bending over the pillow for ease, to take him in.

Lance’s hands crawl up his thighs, over his hips and around to his ass, where he gives a firm squeeze, rocking Keith forward and swallowing him down in a way that Keith thinks has to be uncomfortable.

He winces and withdraws with a quiet, “Sorry,” but Lance shakes his head and licks his lips – again – “No gag reflex,” is his response as he takes Keith in once more, completely down to the root of him.

Keith is almost inclined to think that this is some kind of fever dream. The way Lance takes him in over and over again, relaxed and open and warm. He can feel that way Lance’s mouth goes from hard to soft palate and yet there’s no hint of any kind of discomfort in his form. His hands are firm on Keith’s backside, grounding him, guiding him where he wants him. It had never been like this for him, feeling equal parts in control and not. It’s clear Lance knows what he’s doing, knows where he wants to feel Keith most.

After a few moments, Lance pulls off to take a few harsh breaths, moaning weakly on each exhale as one of his hands reaches down to Shiro between his legs.

Keith looks up and moans at the sight.

Lance’s hand has gone into Shiro’s white forelock, holding him in place as he grinds into his mouth. Shiro’s eyes are black with lust and he growling approvingly near constantly. When Shiro sees Keith watching, he raises his head away from Lance and Keith can see the way the Omega’s slick is dripping down his chin, before he dives back in, eyes closed in bliss.

Lance shivers, head tilting back again, “Fuck my mouth,” he says.

“Are you sure?” Keith asks and Lance nods. His hands are gentle as he takes Lance’s jaw in his hands and he slides home once more.

As he loses himself to sensation, he loses all control over his mouth.

“He’s fucking good at this Shiro.” He huffs, hips snapping forward, “So good for me.” He doesn’t miss the way that praise causes Lance to purr low in his throat, making Keith go cross-eyed as it vibrates up his shaft, “Fuck, Lance, sweetheart,” another purr at the pet-name, “you’re amazing.”

Shiro groans from where he’s working his mouth over Lance’s entrance and then he’s pulling back, rising onto his knees, bringing Lance’s legs with him as he does so. With Lance’s thighs wrapped around his head, Lance’s hand in his hair, he glances up at Keith before leaning back down to lap Lance open again.

Keith moans long and loud at the visual, hips rotating forward in a slow deep circle before pulling back to let Lance breathe. He keeps his thrusts shallow for a time, watching with rapt, hungry eyes at the way Shiro slips a finger inside Lance, alongside his tongue, noting the quiet moans around his own cock at the gesture.

Lance’s own prick lays hard and wet across his stomach, oozing precum.

Suddenly, Lance removes his hand from Keith’s ass grabbing at the fingers Keith still has resting at his jaw. Keith pulls back, “Okay?” he checks in.

Lance nods, pressing a quick kiss to his thigh, “Deeper.”

Keith feels the lust in him try its best to peak, but he holds it firm as he slips his cock back into Lance’s open mouth. He’s not ready at all for what happens next.

Lance takes the fingers he still has hold of, and places them on his throat just as Keith thrusts back in and Keith feels the way that Lance’s throat opens for him twice over. It’s like nothing he’s ever felt before, and he can’t help the pathetic noise that escapes him.

He’d feel embarrassed by it, but the way that Lance purrs around him, his own cock twitching a blurting out more precum onto his stomach, makes him feel vindicated, makes him realise just how much Lance is enjoying this too.

He casts a desperate look down at Shiro, knowing, now, that he isn’t going to last much longer, and he sees the same desperation in his mate’s eyes. With a start, Keith realises that the reason Shiro has risen is because he’s trying desperately to hold off his own pleasure in favour for chasing Lance’s.

His mate is keeping his hip canted away from both Lance and the sheets, but where Keith can see his cock, it looks like the base of it is a little swollen.

It washes over him, the realisation that the scent and taste of Lance on his tongue is causing Shiro to knot against nothing but air. The knowledge shoots a bolt of thick arousal through him and suddenly he’s on the brink.

He taps at Lance’s chest in warning, the words catching in his throat, but that just make Lance suck harder, purring, his free hand gripping onto Keith’s ass to prevent his withdrawal. It’s his undoing.

He growls as he thrusts a last time and holds deep, trusting Lance to push him back or signal if it’s too much, and comes down Lance’s throat.

It takes a few moments to ground himself again, his vision swims and he hisses as Lance continues to suckle at him, finally withdrawing his softening cock.

He settles back onto his heels to watch Shiro and Lance. The way Lance’s eyes remain closed, his brow furrowing as his orgasm approaches slow and sweet. He knows how long Shiro can draw out a rim job. It’s one of his favourite things to do to Keith, work him over until he’s a shivery mess of need.

He reaches down and runs gentle fingers through Lance’s sweaty hair. Lance’s hand grabs for his, turning his face to kiss Keith’s palm, before his mouth opens on a wanton moan. Glancing back down Lance’s body, he can see the way and Shiro’s face is buried between Lance’s thighs in earnest now. The desperate pinch of his brows tells Keith that he’s not trying to draw it out any longer, he’s desperate to make Lance come.

Carefully, Keith leans down to whisper into Lance’s ear, “He loves rimming. Can’t get enough of it, but I think you might have made his obsession worse.” Lance’s eyes open and he stares at Keith, mouth opening on another ragged moan, “He’s good too, isn’t he?” Lance nods, and Keith can see from the tension in his arm that he’s gripping Shiro tighter. “If you promise not to grip my hair like you’re doing to him, want me to suck you off too?”

Lance mewls long and loud, nodding furiously. Keith watches him as he moved down Lance’s body, stopping here and there to press a kiss into his skin, to lick at his nipples and abs, and Lance watches back. Very deliberately, Lance takes his free hand and lodges it under his own head, determined to keep his promise and Keith’s heart melts. He leans back up to him to capture his lips in a searing kiss, before returning to his path down his body.

It's always nerve wracking, even after all the years behind him, even after all the time he’s done this very thing for Shiro, there’s always the little voice in the back of his mind reminding him of how this had started for him.

He shakes it away and focusses on Lance’s cock in front of his face. He catches Shiro watching him, tongue deep in Lance alongside what might be two fingers now.

Keith wraps a gentle hand under Lance’s hips, bearing his weight enough so that Shiro can finally take himself in hand. He does it quickly, tearing his own hand from supporting Lance and wrapping a tight fist around his still developing knot.

Then Keith leans in and takes Lance into his mouth.

Despite how worked over Keith knows he must be feeling, he doesn’t buck, only lets out a desperate whimper, throwing his head back and exposing his neck. Keith can feel the love for Lance bubbling inside him as Lance holds back from what his body must be telling him to do – all for Keith’s comfort.

He sets to work rewarding that gentleness and it isn’t long until Lance’s cries increase in pitch, purring on his high, breathy exhalations.

“I-I’m gonna…” He moans, eyes wide open as he watches the Alpha’s work. Keith pulls back, working him fast with his hand until with a scream, Lance comes over his hand and onto his chest.

Shiro growls, certainly feeling how Lance’s body has tightened on his fingers and tongue, then he’s pulling his face away and Keith gently places Lance’s hips back to the bed, brushing gentle fingers over Lance’s jittery form. He stretches out beside the Omega, sated and warm, watching Shiro frantically work his cock between Lance’s thighs, fingers still deep to undoubtedly feel how Lance’s insides are still twitching.

“Sweetheart,” Keith murmurs, raising himself onto an elbow and running a gently hand over Lance’s chest. Lance opens his eyes and stares at him, eyes unfocused, “You want him,” he twitches his head in Shiro’s direction, “to come on you? Mark you up? Make you ours?” Lance’s eyes shine, tears flooding them. He glances down at Shiro, nodding, sucking in his bottom lip.

Keith smiles at him, brushes a stray lock of hair from his face. “I’ll warn you now, it might be quite a bit.” Lance’s brow furrow in confusion and Keith’s smile widens, “You made him knot – or part knot – regardless, it might be more than you’re expecting.” Lance’s pupils blow wider, eyes searching out the way Shiro’s hand it flying over his cock.

Shiro is watching the closely, eyes dark and warm, “Can I…?” he asks, desperate, too.

Lance nods again, eyes rapt as Shiro removes his fingers, Lance exhales shakily at the loss, and licks the slick on his hand, eyes closing, body shuddering. Shiro tugs at himself another half dozen times and then he’s spilling hot and hard over Lance’s chest and stomach. Keith groans sympathetically at the low, growling whine Shiro releases and at the way his hand tightens on the base of his cock. He thrusts into the air above them watching as his come paints Lance.

“Watch this.” Keith whispers into Lance’s ear, and then he starts to rub the come into Lance’s skin.

Shiro’s whole frame shakes as he watches, legs almost giving out completely and he leans down suddenly, catching himself on his free hand to hover over them. He rumbles at them, a happy, please Alpha sound and nuzzles first into Lance’s neck, then into Keith’s, before he finally releases his shaft and collapses boneless on top of them.

Lance looks over at Keith in wonder as Shiro’s breath evens out almost instantaneously.

Keith rolls his eyes, “Yeah. That happens too.”

And then Lance is laughing, free and happy.

Chapter Text

The panic starts to set in a few minutes after Shiro has passed out on his chest. It claws at his insides and, vulnerable as he is, he can’t hide in in his scent. Shiro groans, nose wrinkling in response, but doesn’t move. Apparently dead to the Universe. Despite his rising terror, Lance can’t help but fondly think, Caveman.

Keith is quick to shove Shiro off in response to Lance’s scent – he rolls away to curl into a ball small enough that it shouldn’t be possible for a man of his size – and backs off to give Lance space.

Lance, for his part, rockets off the bed on shaking legs, breaths coming fast.

“Lance?” Keith’s voice is calm, but when Lance glances at him, he can see the concern in the furrow of his brow.

He holds up a hand and turns his face away, taking deep, gulping breaths – the last thing he needs is to hyperventilate. Keith nods, situating himself on the edge of the bed, feet firmly planted and knees spread. He snaps his fingers once, just enough to get Lance’s attention.

Lance swings his gaze to Keith and watches as he makes a show of taking deep breaths through his nose, before exhaling through his mouth. Lance catches on quickly and tries to match the pattern of his breaths.

Keith nods encouragingly at him again, hands resting on his knees.

Lance feels the panic ebb, slowly.

“S-sorry.” He mutters, shame and embarrassment flooding him. He heaves a few more breaths, until his heartrate begins to return to normal.

“Don’t be.” Keith says, gently, “This was a lot.”

Lance looks at him, at the way Keith is watching him with soft eyes. There’s no rebuke in his face or tone, only understanding. It makes his heart thud painfully in his chest.

“Sorry.” He murmurs again, coming back to the bed to stand in front of Keith. The Alpha stares up at him with steady eyes. “I thought…” Lance huffs out a sigh, hands twisting in front of himself.

Keith gently grasps his fingers and tugs, “C’me’re.”

Lance hesitates only for a moment before settling back on the bed beside Keith. The Alpha rubs his thumb over the back of his hand for a few seconds before lifting it to his lips to press a kiss to his skin. Lance sighs deeply and rests his head on Keiths strong shoulder.

“When we got back here, I thought, ‘oh, I’m fine, there’s no panic, there’s no fear, I’m fine’.” He swallows, “But when Shiro was on top of me, I just, it was—it was too much. I felt so… trapped.”

Keith is quiet for a few minutes, long enough that Lance becomes aware of Shiro shuffling behind them, his brain obviously coming back online. Shiro turns, coming behind them to curl around their hips on the bed. He reaches out a hand to gently grip at Lance’s knee, and Lance looks down at him.

Shiro is looking up at him all dazed and sorrowful. Lance smiles down at him and runs his free hand through his hair, smile widening as Shiro’s eyes drift closed as he lets out a deep rumbling breath, all pleased Alpha.

“We don’t expect you to be fine.” Keith says eventually, voice quiet, and Lance rolls his head back onto his shoulder to listen. Keith kisses his hairline softly, “We just want you to be happy. If we have to be a bit mindful of things,” he shrugs, Lance’s head wobbling with it, “then, we’ll be mindful. You didn’t pull at my hair, or hold me down on you, or thrust into my throat. All asked was that you not pull on my hair and you…” he kisses at Lance’s hand again, “you made sure not to do anything that might trigger me. We’d be pretty crappy mates if we didn’t extend the same courtesy. If that means we can’t pass out on you, or hold you down, or put you into a position you might not be able to escape from, then, that’s what we’ll do. It’s no hardship to us.”

Lance swallows against a sudden swell of tears. Shiro curls more tightly around them, kissing Lance’s bare thigh.

“You two make me happy,” the Omega confesses, “so happy.”

“Then that’s all we’ll ask from you.” Keith says, like it’s that easy.

Shiro’s thumb slides over his knee in gentle sweeps while Keith leans his head on Lance’s and breathes deep.

Lance wants to apologise again, wants to make sure they know how bad he feels over ruining the mood, but something about this moment gives him pause. They’re not telling him he’s ruined things, they’re not accusing him of overreacting, instead they are supporting him, holding him through it.

It’s enough to make his eyes blur and his bottom lip tremble.

He has never felt so loved.

“I love you.” He says, voice tremulous, “Both of you.” He adds, in case it wasn’t clear.

They both go rigid, and for a wild second, Lance thinks he’s misread everything.

Then Shiro sits upright, shuffling awkwardly to sit on Lance’s other side. He leans his leg against Lance’s from hip to knee and reaches out to grip his hand. He raises Lance’s hand to his lips and presses a reverential kiss to his palm.

“I love you, too.” Shiro murmurs, his scent turning more citrus in his happiness. When Lance finally turns his eyes to the Alpha, his eyes are bright and his smile is wide. “I love you too, Lance.” He says again, and Lance’s breath catches on a surprised sob.

Keith squeezes his other hand tightly, his fingers trembling. Lance turns back to him, and his eyes burn at the affection he can see so plain on his face.

“I love you, Lance.” He whispers, voice tight and scent like cinder-toffee. “I love you.”

“Oh…” His voice wavers, “Oh, my god. Oh…” The tears he’s been holding back spill over to run down his cheeks, his heart feels like it’s exploding with happiness, he feels like he could fly.