Chapter Text
When the Paladins arrived on Earth, they did not expect a smooth transition, an easy acceptance by one of the most paranoid military organizations to be found on their little planet.
And they were right to assume so.
Iverson is there to greet them with patronizing hands, and half-hearted apologies to Shiro and Keith.
Lance, Pidge, and Hunk receive none at all.
Keith’s fists clench when he catches the judgmental stares of the Garrison, every soldier and scientist whispering, their doubts echoing in the wake of their footsteps.
Still, they clear a path, whether it is because of the impassive stares on each of the Paladins’ face, the firm grip they each maintain on their bayards, or the sight of the Alteans, their oddly symmetrical features and triangle-shaped markings signifying them as something not of this planet.
“Cadets McClain, Garrett, Kogane, and Gunderson, although it seems that it should be Holt.”
Admiral Sanda stares out the window, observing the construction of the Atlas, hands folded behind her back and speaking with a distinct air of superiority.
They all stiffen, spines straightening in the face of one that used to be their superior officer.
But Admiral Sanda has not seen war, not like they have.
She has not fought on the front lines of the war, stared down beings three times her size, and emerged victorious but scarred, both physically and mentally.
Shiro and Allura’s calming presences are the only thing stopping Keith and most likely the others from starting an argument with this woman, whose only greater achievement than the Paladins is her age.
Lance places a hand at his elbow, and it is only then that Keith realizes how wound up he is.
A slight glance to his right shows him that Lance’s face is like stone, a strange sight to see considering how expressive the Red Paladin usually is. His eyes are still tinged with red, a byproduct of the tears he’d let loose when he’d reunited with his family, but there is amusement in them, faint and Keith knows, at his expense.
He lifts his own eyebrow, a barely there movement, and Lance’s lips twitch slightly.
Another squeeze to his elbow, and then Sanda is speaking, her voice thin with impatience.
“Commander Holt has informed me of Sendak’s impending invasion. In the event that he does arrive here, my colleagues and I have found that for Earth’s sake, it would be best to use the Lions of Voltron as a bargaining chip. I have brought you here to negotiate the terms of our potential surrender, a fact I know may disple–”
She doesn’t get to finish.
Allura is out of her seat, eyes blazing with heat, defiance and anger all at once, and Keith is reminded of the fact that Allura was the daughter of the first Red Paladin, a wildfire in her own right.
“We would never give the Lions to Sendak.”
Sanda turns to them now, lips pursed and brows furrowed in frustration and barely-hidden anger.
“Why not? If it could guarantee the safety of Earth–”
Shiro speaks now, his voice significantly calmer but still tinged with steel. “With all due respect Admiral, giving Sendak the Lions will not stop his invasion of the planet. You do not understand how the Galra think. They will not stop until we are all eliminated.”
Her ramrod posture remains the same, although her lips curl up into a sneer as she takes in their faces and stances.
“And this is what you all believe?”
They all nod in unison.
“Fine, you are all dismissed.”
They turn to walk out the door, moving quickly and quietly. Just as they all cross the threshold, the door already sliding shut, the voice of the Admiral carries out the room.
“Mere children, telling me what is best for my planet.”
They all whirl around angrily, but the door is shutting on their faces, furious expressions plain to see on each of their faces.
Pidge starts marching towards the room, followed quickly by Lance and Keith, only stopping when Shiro moves to block their path.
The former Black Paladin’s face is blank, but Keith can see the anger in his brother’s eyes, his rage on behalf of the kids he’s come to care for, come to be responsible for.
He’s seen their growth, from fumbling cadets to the soldiers they are today.
And even though Keith knows it pains his brother to realize that Voltron deprived them of their innocence, of their ability to sleep peacefully through the night, of their ability to travel through the unknown without the fear of someone hunting them down, he knows that Shiro is immensely proud of them.
And to dismiss that growth, the inability to see who they have become, well, Keith knows that his brother is just as angry as they all are.
“Let it go, guys,” Shiro’s voice is like the rumble of thunder, the warning before the storm.
Pidge huffs, bayard flashing as it returns to its inactive state. She glares at the door, amber eyes looking like they are trying to melt the door with sheer willpower.
Lance lets it go easier. Of all of them, he is the slowest to anger, a surprising fact, but not really when one considers the sheer size of his family and the chaos he must have experienced in such a full household. He pushes on Keith’s chestplate, moving him away from Shiro and the door, then reaches for Pidge, who hisses and attempts to bite his hands.
“Come on, Pidgeon,” he coaxes, mask falling from his face, replaced with a genuine smile.
She huffs again, shrieking when Lance sweeps her onto his back, maneuvering her into a piggyback.
It works to put a smile on her face, even as she tries to hide it in her arm, and it works for the rest of the team as well, the tension slowly dissipating and smiles replacing the rage-filled expressions from earlier.
“That’s my right-hand man,” Keith thinks fondly, shaking his head afterward to remove the thought.
Lance is not his to have, no matter how much he may wish otherwise.
For now, however, he is content to watch as the boy with blue eyes and chestnut curls, the boy he followed into space, runs down the hallway at full speed, their little sister laughing as she clings tightly to his shoulders, his big brother shaking his head fondly next to him, and as his other sister and brother gear up to join Lance and Pidge in their antics, Allura easily lifting Hunk onto her back and chasing after the Red and Green Paladins.
Yeah, this is his family.
And he wouldn’t trade them for anything in the universe.
–
The whispers still follow them, the entire Garrison wondering and mulling over the same question.
Why them?
Why were three cadets, unable to properly complete a simulation together and a dropout with anger and authority issues chosen to become the defenders of the universe?
There is less doubt in their eyes when they view Allura and Shiro, because the two carry an aura of authority wherever they go, and because Shiro is a legend in his own right and Allura is the princess of an alien planet, one who witnessed the beginning of this war.
But the rest of them?
They still have something to prove to these people.
Keith is content to let them whisper.
They all know their worth, even Lance, once they had broken down his insecurities and his walls in the time they spent traveling back to their home.
But there is only so much they can take.
–
The tipping point is a scoff from an unknown soldier as they move to leave the mess hall, heading towards the training room.
They all tense, but they keep moving, resolving to let this one go as well.
But Lance stops in his tracks, turns around slowly.
“What’s with the scoff?” His words are playful, almost joking, but his eyes are piercing, blue eyes radiating something dangerous and his voice carries through the room
The crowd is near silent, murmurs erupting at the tables. A man stands up slowly, his posture giving away an air of haughtiness, and he smiles at them mockingly.
Shiro moves to calm Lance down, but before he can take a step towards him, the other man speaks, contempt dripping from his words.
“Nothing, of course. I was just wondering how exactly you became a Paladin in the first place, McClain. You could never successfully lead a mission in the simulator, I don’t know how you expect us to place our lives in the hands of someone as incompetent as you.”
Lance does not react, but the rest of the team bristles, fire in their eyes at the man’s sheer audacity.
Hunk and Pidge are quick to launch to his defense, protests quieting when the man turns his sneer towards them.
“Oh, and I see you’ve managed to include your failure of a team with your delusions. The one constantly spewing vomit and the girl, well, she isn’t even supposed to be here.”
Dead silence.
Pidge shakes, her entire frame vibrating with anger and the sheer force of holding back tears of embarrassment. Next to her, Hunk has paled significantly, the color draining from his face as he stares in shock.
“I mean, look at them, they aren’t even real pilots. And the dropout, don’t even get me started–”
Lance does not yell, nor does he move to punch this asshole in the face. But his words echo throughout the mess hall anyway.
“Is that a challenge?”
Keith feels the corners of his mouth lift up into a smirk, a sharp, dangerous thing. He hears the underlying meaning behind Lance’s words, hears the steel hidden in the softness of his tone, his voice promising trouble.
But the Garrison does not know their Red Paladin as well as the rest of Voltron.
They do not know Voltron at all.
All they see are the cadets that left Earth five years ago, children playing pretend heroes.
They are underestimating them.
That is their mistake.
Somewhere in the distance, the lions roar loudly, and the Garrison shakes, the entirety of the mess hall yelping and grabbing for purchase on the trembling tables. The man insulting them wobbles, losing his foothold, smug look replaced by a slight fear as he attempts to steadies himself.
The paladins, however, remain steady, too used to unstable ground, and Lance crosses his arms, blue eyes piercing and unrelenting.
“I’ll take you up on that challenge. Give me a week, I’ll let you know the details.”
He turns, long legs carrying him out of the room swiftly, and the rest of the team is quick to follow, hot on his heels.
“Lance,” Pidge hisses, amber eyes huge and worried, an expression she very rarely wears. Hunk is the same, the Yellow Paladin wringing his hands anxiously as he takes in his best friend, who still wears the same stoic look he had when facing down the doubters.
His expression softens when he tilts his head down to look at Pidge. “Well, what was I supposed to do, Pidgey? He insulted your honor, not to mention the honor of our most loveable Hunky-bear. He was bound to get punched.”
His warm expression shifts to a smirk. “His humiliation will now be greater, and more public.”
Pidge shakes her head, eyes fond even as she punches him lightly in the elbow. “He insulted you first, dummy. I would’ve socked him myself.”
Lance ruffles her hair, ignoring her protests then turns his attention to Shiro and Allura, who have remained silent throughout the whole ordeal. “Shiro, Allura, I’m sorry, that was probably way out of line, and if this damages our relationship with the Garrison in any way, I promise I will take full responsibility—”
Shiro holds up a hand, and Allura shakes her head. Lance’s mouth shuts, his teeth clicking audibly.
“Lance, you did absolutely nothing wrong. Pidge is right, he had no right to say those things about any of you. I should’ve punched the entitled asshole myself.”
Lance’s eyes are wide with shock, and so are the rest of the team’s. Shiro very rarely cusses, preferring to use more difficult vocabulary in order to rile people up.
So the fact that he uses such language now, well, it is a testament to how livid he is.
Allura, the only one of them unphased by Shiro’s word choice, brushes a hand over each of their foreheads, three fingers tapping lightly after the motion, an Altean gesture of familial warmth and affection between siblings.
“Shiro is correct, Lance. I am enraged that this is how your people view you. No amount of diplomatic training would have stopped me from giving those ignorant souls a piece of my brain.” Their princess’ crystal eyes are filled with righteous fury, even as she regards each of the paladins warmly.
Pidge snickers, and behind her, Hunk’s dark eyes are bright with amusement, hand pressed to his mouth in an effort to remain composed.
Allura frowns at them. “What?”
Lance shakes his head fondly, setting a hand on Allura’s shoulder. “It’s a piece of my mind, ‘Lura. Not a piece of my brain.”
Allura honest-to-God pouts, her eyebrows pushing together as she mulls it over. “Yes, but the mind, brain? It is the same thing, no?”
“Well, essentially yes, but…”
Their chatter fades as Shiro leads Allura away, the both of them contemplating the confusing language that is English, and Lance turns to the Yellow and Green Paladins, shooing them off with a request to ‘brush up their skills’ and ‘would you guys just trust me, I’m not gonna let some military fool get the better of us’.
Hunk and Pidge comply, strolling away with a wave and a rude gesture, respectively.
Lance giggles, a bright, happy sound, a stark contrast to his fiery, controlled anger from just a few minutes ago. Keith searches his face, a part of him concerned that Lance is hiding just how deeply he felt. “You okay?”
“Yeah, Red, I’m great. Why? You worried about me, team leader?” Lance’s voice is teasing, but sincere.
“I’m always worried about you,” Keith replies, his reply a little more honest than he intended it to be.
Lance flushes, the pink highlighting the splash of freckles decorating his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. He pushes at Keith’s shoulder gently, with a complaint of “Keith, please, where’s your filter?”
After a couple playful shoves, Lance bites his bottom lip, a nervous habit he most likely picked up from Pidge.
It was bound to happen after living with only six other people in such close proximity that the team would pick up each other’s quirks and little habits. Shiro runs a hand through his hair when he gets stressed, something he picked up from Lance, and Hunk presses two fingers to his pulse during long meetings, a method of distraction most likely observed from Keith.
Once, Pidge had lost her glasses. The rest of the paladins had upended the entire castle looking, only to drop to the floor in exhaustion and disbelief when Coran had pointed the round frames on the top of Pidge’s head, hidden slightly in her choppy hair.
In their defense, they had been up for eighteen hours with no breaks as they worked to negotiate a truce between two warring tribes.
Lance taps his shoulder. “You still with me, buddy?”
Keith blinks, clearing his head. “Yeah, sorry, just spaced out. You were saying?”
Lance turns to face him, arms crossed and expression pensive, a look that Keith called his ‘planning face’ and what Team Punk called Lance’s imitation at broody Keith.
“I was wondering, do you have any way to contact your mom? Or Kolivan?”
Keith frowns, thinking. “I have a spare Blade communicator in Black. My mom gave it to me before she left with Kolivan. Why, what do you need it for?”
Lance smiles, the sharpness returning. Keith is suddenly very sorry for the soldier that decided to try the Red Paladin’s patience.
“You’ll see.”
With a quick salute and a parting wave, Lance dashes off to most likely search Black for the comm, Keith staring after the other’s retreating form.
Yeah, the Garrison should probably be worried.
Keith just hopes he’ll be able to get in a few swings at the idiot from earlier before Lance unleashes the full force of his revenge.
—
“Your boy is something, alright.”
Keith flushes, sending a glare to the speaker, who has made himself comfortable on the shitty orange couch that can be found in all Garrison officer rooms.
Adam Wasir stares back at him, nonplussed. His trapezoidal-shaped glasses glint back at him, hazel eyes judging behind the frames.
“He is not my boy, Adam. And I am trying to sleep here.”
Adam shrugs, looking unphased as he shuffles and reorganizes the stack of papers for the fifth time. “I raised you for a good chunk of your life, you absolute hooligan. I know when you’re lying.”
“And I know that you’re nervous. Still avoiding Shiro, I take it? Otherwise, why would you be here with me?”
Adam’s lips thin, and he looks away. “Can’t I see my favorite little brother?”
“I’m your only little brother, Adam. Come on, talk to me. Why haven’t you and Shiro talked yet?”
Adam still refuses to meet his eyes, and Keith sighs. When he’d been kicked out, it was Adam that had driven him to the shack, Adam who had ensured that the tiny house was still okay to be lived in, Adam who drove back and forth between the Garrison every weekend in order to make sure that Keith was still alive and not crazy yet.
Adam didn’t know what to make of the energy they’d both felt in the desert, and Keith thinks that his guilt over his last argument with Shiro made the disappearance worse for the older man.
When Adam finally speaks, his voice is quieter than normal. “It’s not that simple, kid. I loved Takashi so much, to the point where I couldn’t stand to see him sign his death warrant. And instead of getting over myself, instead of choosing to stand by his side in something that I knew he wanted, I chose to be selfish.”
He’s quiet for a few more moments. “And look where that got me. Heartbroken for almost four years before Sam released those recordings, and even then I still couldn’t believe what I was seeing.”
“What if he doesn’t want me anymore? How could he, after what I said?”
“Bullshit.”
Keith’s angry outburst shocks the both of them, the force of the word catching them both off guard. But Keith barrels on. “I’ve never seen two more people in love with each other, do you know that? Both of you were the people I looked up to most, and you basically defined what love is to me.”
“But what if—”
Keith cuts him off. “Adam, listen to me. There was not a day that we were out there in space that Shiro wasn’t thinking of you. He went through a lot in the first year he was missing and he still managed to keep the ring that signified just where his heart was. Every time we did a mindmeld, his first thought was always you. There is nothing that would’ve stopped him from making his way back here to you.
Adam stares at him, a few tears sliding down his face. Keith stares back, silently begging his brother to see the truth in his words, to believe him.
“I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you talk.”
Keith snorts, walking over to shove Adam off the couch, ignoring the indignant yelp when the older man hits the ground.
“Trust me on this, Adam. Just talk to him.”
Adam’s lips turn downward, but his expression is more open, more hopeful. He nods once, then scoops up the papers that had fallen onto the floor.
On his way out, he turns back to face Keith. His lips quirk up in the half-smile that reminds Keith of his younger days, when Shiro and him would come through the door, talking a mile a minute about the newest stunt they pulled on their hoverbikes, and Adam would smile fondly at the both of them, shoving them towards their rooms to take a shower because ‘there will be no desert sand in my household, I forbid it’.
“You should take your own advice, firecracker.”
Keith feels his lips turn downwards, confused. “On?”
“With your boy, of course.”
Adam’s out the door and cackling before Keith can throw a pillow at him.
“ It’s nice ,” he thinks. “ To have my family all in one place again. ”
His eyes slide shut, the comfort of knowing that his brothers are going to work it out now making it easier for him to sleep.
—
Keith startles, blaring alarms and orange lights flashing bringing him back to the waking world.
He shakes off the residual fatigue, grabbing his bayard off of his bedside table, and runs out the door, following the crowd to the open desert air.
The bright light makes him wince, but he shields his eyes, searching the crowd for his team and what might have caused the sudden alarms.
“—ill not be allowed on our base, Cadet McClain!”
Iverson’s gruff, angry voice carries across the courtyard. Keith notices the various guns trained on something in the distance, and traces their aim to the ship behind Lance, whose eyes and stance radiate anger but his voice is calm.
Keith’s breath hitches as he gets closer, the ship’s markings becoming clearer. The Blade.
“These people are our allies, and you would know that Commander —,” Lance practically spits out the title, his lip curling distastefully at the word. “—had you read and acknowledged Commander Holt’s briefing on his return to our planet.”
“We listened to Holt—”
Lance cuts him off, hands opening and closing in an effort to remain still. “You did not listen. You heard his warnings, then proceeded to ignore them, instead choosing to keep him locked away from the public and his wife. You only decided to listen once Commander Holt decided to share his existence and his findings with the world. Tell me, what would you have done should the Galra have arrived here before we did? It would take years to finalize war preparations, and Earth was in no way capable of defending herself. Billions of lives would have been lost, and you, Commander Iverson, and the rest of the Garrison would have been responsible.”
Lance finishes his tirade, the one-eyed Commander rendered speechless in the face of Lance’s words. The rest of the Garrison, gathered in the courtyard, seems to hold their breath, their eyes bouncing like ping pong balls between the two men.
A slow clapping starts up, the sound coming from behind Lance. “Well, that was certainly enjoyable to watch.”
Lance grins, the anger falling off of his face as quickly as it came, whirling around to face the new voice, and Keith turns to face his mother, lilac eyes practically glowing with amusement.
“Mom,” Keith breathes, followed by a “Krolia!” as Lance throws his arms around her.
Krolia laughs, picking up Lance easily. Lance is eye-level with her shoulder now, and forever disgruntled that Keith had surpassed him by a whole head on his return from the quantum abyss.
To his surprise (and his absolute pleasure and disdain, at times), Krolia and Lance got on like two peas in a pod, swapping stories and constantly gossiping, usually at his expense.
He watched their interactions with a smile, the fondness in his gaze obvious. Lance had needed someone to mother him, someone to keep an eye on him when Keith couldn’t.
“I like him,” Krolia states, eyes glowing in the teal moonlight.
They both watch as Lance throws Pidge into the lake, Hunk egging him on from his safe spot on the shore, Pidge’s screeches and Lance’s laughter audible even from their distance, thanks to their Galra hearing.
Keith rolls his eyes, and turns away, hoping that the blush on his face isn’t obvious. “Yes, mom, I know. You’ve made it very clear by your constant giggling. I didn’t even know you giggled.”
“Lance is a very humorous person,” his mom replies, her serene facial expressions and deadpan tone making her statement seem like sarcasm, but Keith knows better.
Two years on a space whale with no other lifeforms makes for a lot of bonding moments.
“I sincerely hope you don’t break each others’ hearts.”
“Wha– Mom!”
“I would hate to choose between my sons.”
Keith groans in embarrassment, shoving his burning face into his palms, his mother’s soft laughter shaking the log they’re sitting on.
“Keith!”
Keith looks up to see Lance grinning down at him. “Come on, team leader, let’s go have some fun!”
Keith shakes his head quickly. “No, no, we have to keep watch. There’s no telling if there’s any hostile lifeforms on this planet.”
“You should go, Keith.” Keith whips his head towards his mother, who smirks quickly before the devious expression vanishes.
“The princess scanned for other beings before our arrival, and I am a decorated Blade of Marmora. I’m sure I can handle whatever comes our way while you enjoy yourself.”
Lance pouts, bottom lip jutting out. Keith has to forcibly shift his gaze from Lance’s mouth to his eyes, which in hindsight, might have been worse because the moonlight makes Lance’s eyes look ethereal and he’s still smiling widely and shit , Keith is looking at his mouth again, just someone please save him…
“Krolia, I wanted you to be able to relax too.”
Krolia shakes her head, a smile pulling at the corners of her lips. “I’m perfectly content where I am, Lance. Thank you for your offer. Now, please, take my son off of my hands. His… how do you say it?... oh yes, his emo-ness is contagious.”
Keith’s mouth drops open, and Lance laughs, a clear, musical sound, lifting his hand for a high five, only to jump up and down with glee when Krolia slaps it enthusiastically.
“Ok, Red, we’ve got Mom’s permission, let’s get this show on the road!”
“There’s no road,” Keith deadpans. “And our destination is like fifteen feet away.”
“Hush, you killjoy. Just enjoy the moment.”
And surprisingly (or not-so surprisingly, depending on who you ask), he does.
“Mom?” Iverson’s voice is rougher than usual as he stares upwards, Krolia looking down at him impassively.
Keith works his way out of her hug, then turns his gaze downward in order to hold the gaze of the older man. His fists clench slightly, only opening when Lance places his hand in Keith’s, the warmth grounding him.
“Yes, this is Krolia, a commander with our Galran allies, the Blade of Marmora. And she is also my mother. As such, I expect her to be treated with respect and the same honor given to me and my paladins.”
Iverson flinches, Keith’s words a double-edged knife, just as he intended them to be. The Garrison thought they could get away with treating them like shit? Well, they wouldn’t be trying anything with Keith’s mother, that’s for sure. Krolia’s glare was an effective way to incapacitate at least three grown men.
“You’ve gotten better at that.” Lance’s voice is lowered to a whisper, his presence comforting, chasing away the fear Keith didn’t even realize was there when revealing his heritage. His hand, where it’s still being held in Keith’s, squeezes once as they watch Iverson and the crowd make a swift retreat.
“At what?”
“At using your words. The old Keith would have lashed out with a knife. Or a sword. Or fists. Or–”
“Yeah, I get it, Lance, thanks,” Keith’s voice is dry, Lance’s soft and melodic giggles a sharp contrast from his sarcastic tone.
Suddenly, Keith remembers his mother’s presence. He turns to her, only to find her gaze already focused on him, his hands in particular. He barely manages to stop himself from turning the same cherry-red as his old jacket when he realizes Lance is still holding his hand.
“Not that I’m not happy to see you, Mom, but what are you doing here? I thought you and Kolivan were on a mission.”
Krolia levels him with a look that practically screams ‘I know you’re deflecting right now” but mercifully, she leaves it alone. “Kolivan and I managed to uncover some concerning information, but it’s not a priority. I’ll share the mission debrief with you towards the end of my stay.”
His mother smirks now. “As for my being here, Lance contacted me. He requested my help in creating some training simulations for your team.”
Keith raises an eyebrow, turning to look down at Lance, who rubs the back of his neck with his free hand, expression sheepish.
“Well, I thought it wouldn’t be fair if I designed the challenges. The Garrison might think we tried to cheat. This way, we have an unbiased party.”
“Unbiased, huh.” Keith’s disbelief is apparent, and both Lance and his mother laugh. “Well, maybe not unbiased, but she’ll still make it where the simulations can be completed by both parties.”
The Red Paladin smirks now, the steel returning to his eyes. “Of course, we’ll just look better doing it.”
“Let’s go, then. I wish to have these sims completed as soon as possible so I can watch my younglings kick ass. Oh, and Lance, I expect that family dinner sometime this week.”
Lance smiles. “You’re welcome to come tomorrow night. My mama will be furious if I spring guests on her with such short notice. Make sure Keith goes too, I don’t want to have to drag him over there like I did with most diplomatic dinners.”
“I’m right here,” Keith complains, but inside, he feels all squishy, like his heart is melting through his ribcage and his blood hums, and Lance is still holding his hand…
“Of course,” Krolia replies, both of them ignoring him.
They make their way to the Garrison’s most versatile and advanced training room, upgrades and adjustments courtesy of Coran, with the help of Hunk and Pidge.
“Here’s the training room!” Lance says cheerfully. “Let us know if anyone gives you any problems, and since we’re in the desert, there will be plenty of places to hide the body.”
“Um,” a woman walks out of the training room, clearly having heard Lance’s words. Her bangs swing in her face, most of her hair pulled up into a bun on the top of her head, and her expression is equal parts amused and worried.
Lance is unperturbed. “Rizavi, how are you? This is Krolia, she’s going to be setting up the training room for the Garrison-Paladin Extravaganza.”
Rizavi’s eyes light up at the name, Lance and her ignoring Keith’s subsequent cries of “That’s what we’re calling it?” Krolia pats his back gently as she makes her way into the room, leaving the three of them in the hallway, and stands there resignedly, as the two chatter excitedly.
“Man, it was so cool to watch you own Commander Iverson this morning. The guy was practically shaking in his boots, it was so awesome to witness.”
Lance laughs, but it’s not as bright. Keith frowns, at the sudden tenseness that took over the other’s frame, his grip loosening on Keith’s.
Keith closes his hand around Lance’s this time, squeezing and attempting to press his support into the smooth palm, the rough calluses on Lance’s fingers from his weapons.
Lance squeezes back, softly.
RIzavi, unaware of Lance’s inner turmoil, barrels forward. “And I bet it must have been so great for you, right? I mean, how many times did that asshole make fun of your sim performance? Always calling you Kogane’s replacement, right?”
Lance stiffens, and Rizavi trails off, taking in Keith’s murderous expression and Lance’s rapidly paling face.
“Oh, um, shit, Lance, I’m sorry, I didn’t—”
“It’s fine, Nadia.” Lance's bluntness causes the girl’s dark eyes to widen behind her glasses. “I’ll see you around, okay?”
Rizavi nods, guilt filling her expression, but Lance is already tugging Keith away, towards the direction of their rooms.
They reach Keith’s room, Lance punching in the code easily (the first four coordinates of the location of Keith’s shack) and then Lance is pulling him into the dark room.
They stand there quietly, the only sound being their shaky breaths.
Slowly, although it’s hard for Keith to tell, even with his Galra vision, Lance tips his head forward to rest it on Keith’s chest.
He stills, the anger slipping away from him just as easily as it came. “...did he really call you that?”
Lance nods, the movement almost going unnoticed if it weren’t for the soft hairs brushing Keith’s jaw as the other bobs his head up and down.
“You know we talked about this.”
This, unfortunately, is not the first time they’ve had to have a conversation about Lance’s insecurities.
The first time was when Lance walked into his room all those years ago, shoulders drooped and head ducked.
With Shiro gone, the paladin bonds were shaky, barely held together.
And yet it was Lance who had kept the peace, kept the team together, even after Keith led them into disaster after disaster, the one who placed his hand on Keith’s shoulder when he felt his world falling apart.
“Maybe it would be best if I stepped down.”
Keith had shut down that thought process as gently and as best as he could. Lance, stepping down from the team? It was an unfathomable idea, that their whole reason for being in space in the first place would just as easily remove himself from the equation without so much as a protest.
Clearly, he hadn’t done his job well enough.
The second time happened right after the encounter with Bob, the team landing on a nearby uninhabited moon.
Keith sprints from Black towards Red, her shield up and her gaze imposing. He tapped on her shield, and she hummed a warning, one that said to tread lightly.
‘You are both my paladins. But if you do not fix this, I will no longer remain silent about your injustices towards him.”
A rush of freezing ice crept up his spine, replacing the scorching heat. “Mark our words, Black Paladin. We will not make the same mistake twice.”
“I know, Blue, Red. I’m sorry, we all are, I just— I need to apologize in person.”
The shield lowers. “One chance, my paladin. That is all you will get.”
He runs up the lowered ramp, the events of the day running through his head.
The voting, then the questions, all aimed at Lance.
Then came the memories.
“Poor, little Lance, he can’t do anything right. It’s a wonder you even got a scholarship to the Garrison”
“You’re only here until Kogane returns, you understand? Even so, you have expectations to meet. You better not fail.”
“A seventh wheel. That’s a horrible wheel to be.”
“Lance is the goofball.”
“I told you to stay out of this, Lance!”
“I don’t have time for this, Lance!”
And Bob’s saccharine tone weaves in between the memories, reverberating in his bones. “Did they know, Lance? How much of a failure you were? Always lying, always hiding. How much trust did you place in your team?”
Hunk’s face paling when the Omega Shield mission popped up, the sound of Lance’s heartbeat stopping abruptly as the memory washed over all of them. Pidge’s eyes slowly filling with tears as they watched Lance remain on the sidelines, hovering and pasting a strained smile on his face every time they teased him.
Lance just stood in silence, taking Bob’s verbal abuse without so much as a peep, hunching in on himself whenever the team turned to him with pitying eyes.
Despite all that they had done, all that Keith had done, when the time came for them to explain their actions, it was Lance who came to their rescue, defended each and everyone of them with blazing eyes and icy tone.
When they flashed out, Keith being the last one to leave, Bob turned to him.
“I’ve done my part, paladin. It’s up to you now.”
And even if Keith hated what Lance had just been put through at their hands, at the hands of this being, he nodded fiercely, hands closed into fists.
“It won’t happen again,” he had promised, and then there was a flash of light, and he was back in his lion.
And Keith had kept it, when he kneeled in front of Lance, curled up in the pilot chair, eyes wide and frightened, tears rolling down his cheeks.
“You can be angry with me. You can hate me forever. I would deserve it. But please, just, listen to me when I say this.”
Lance said nothing, practically silent with the exception of his choked breaths and sniffles.
“Anyone who ever told you that you weren’t good enough was a liar.”
“Keith, please,” Lance speaks then, tone bitter and heavy with the weight of his sadness. “You and I both know that I have always been second in everything, never the best, never the one to be looked at with admiration and pride.”
Keith opens his mouth to speak, but Lance cuts him off. ‘I thought it would— I thought it was different with you. But then you left and I–”
Lance cuts himself off, and turns his face away, tears still pouring. Keith lifts a shaking hand to gently turn Lance’s head back to meet his gaze. “You have always been my first priority.”
The other boy shakes his head, but Keith doesn’t let him look away. “When you went to me that day, talking about stepping down, I thought you were crazy for it. I couldn’t understand how you didn’t see that you were the only things keeping me and the team from falling apart. And I knew that the team needed you more than it did me. I thought my leaving would ensure your happiness, your peace of mind.”
Lance’s mouth opens, forming a ‘o’ shape. Keith wipes away the tears sliding down his cheeks with his thumbs, calluses a sharp contrast to the softness of Lance’s skin. “But if I’d have known that it would only cause you pain, I never would have left you.”
“The team,” Lance chokes out. “You wouldn’t have left the team.”
But Keith shakes his head. “I left the team in good hands, yours. But I didn’t think to consider who would be taking care of you.”
Lance’s breath hitches, another sob wrenching out of him, and he buries his face into the crook of Keith’s shoulder, hands coming around to settle on his shoulder blades, pressing them closer.
Keith leans his head into Lance’s curls, his own arms holding the blue-eyed boy close.
That’s how the team finds them a half hour later, Red having finally let down her shields to allow the rest of the paladins say their own apologies.
And as they all curled around the Red Paladin, tear-filled laughter and the almost uncomfortable heat that came with being trapped in a small space with too many bodies, they all came to a silent agreement.
That they would let no one look down on them, especially their Red Paladin.
“I know we did. It just hurts to remember sometimes.”
Keith wraps his arms around Lance’s waist, setting his chin on top of Lance’s head. “I’m proud of you, though. You didn’t take any of his shit.”
At this, Lance snorts. “What, and let him get away with insulting your mother, not to mention his treatment of Pidge’s parents? Yeah, no, I wasn’t about to stand for that.”
Keith rolls his eyes fondly, mouth open and ready to respond when his door slides open with a whoosh sound and the lights come on suddenly.
“Hey, you little demon, you didn’t think to tell me you were half-alien—”
Adam blinks at the two of them, Lance sliding out of Keith’s grasp smoothly, both of their faces pink, although Keith is sure the color is more obvious on his pale skin.
Adam’s confusion is quickly replaced with a shit-eating grin. Keith is immediately wary. “Adam, don’t you—”
“You must be Lance,” Adam says, cutting off and completely ignoring Keith’s threat. “I have heard so much about you.”
Lance’s face pinks even more, hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “Thanks. You’re Adam, right? Shiro’s fiancee? He was always talking about you, you know?”
Keith has the extreme pleasure of seeing his older brother shut his mouth and take a step back in embarrassment. He uses this opportunity to shift the conversation away from his own love life. “So, Adam, did you end up talking to Shiro?”
Adam nods. “Yeah, we— we talked.”
“So you yelled at each other before making out, got it,” Keith deadpans, his stoic expression cracking when Lance giggles next to him.
Adam doesn’t really blush, but Keith can catch the red creeping up his neck and smirks. “I hate you, I can’t believe I ever worried about you. I should’ve known you’d survive space just so you could come back to spite me.”
“Yes, my one true goal in life.”
“Come on, you two,” Lance rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling, all traces of his earlier sadness gone, causing a smile to appear on Keith’s face, unbidden.
Footsteps can be heard running down the hallway, and then Pidge appears in the doorway. “There you guys are. Krolia finished setting up the training room, and told me to get you two. Hunk’s there already, and Allura is gathering the Garrison.”
“That’s great, Pidge. Let’s go kick some ass.” Lance cracks his knuckles as he speaks, expression settling into something promising danger.
“Hell yeah!” Pidge replies, and the two fist bump, both of them racing out the door. Keith shakes his head fondly, following behind them. He turns towards Adam. “You coming or what?”
Adam scoffs. “What, you think I’d pass up a chance to watch these entitled assholes get a taste of their own medicine? Hell no, little brother. Although, you and me will be discussing the fact that half of your DNA is not of this planet.”
“Of course. Why don’t we go now, I’ll introduce you to my mother.”
“Wait, what— your mother is here? And alive? Keith, we seriously need to have a talk about sharing pertinent information.”
—
Most of the Garrison is located in the various briefing rooms, the video feed from the training room being broadcasted throughout the entire facility.
However, the higher-ups can be found in the observation room overlooking the training area, along with Allura, Shiro, Coran, and Krolia, supervising the challenge, ensuring its fairness.
Their challenger, the man from the mess hall, is apparently known as Lieutenant Roberts, and Lance whispers to Keith that he had been another hopeful cadet vying for Keith’s open fighter pilot spot.
“I was better though,” Lance smirks as he twirls his bayard around.
Hunk, from his position next to Lance, pipes in. “Yeah, he really was. Lance may not have been the greatest sim leader, but at least he could pilot well. Roberts was constantly crashing into stray asteroids.”
Krolia’s voice comes in through the speakers, halting their conversation. “Welcome to your challenge, paladins. This will test the extent of your individual skills, both mental and physical, and your teamwork. It is simple. All four of you must successfully complete the sim. If even one fails, you all do.”
“Seems simple enough,” Pidge says.
Keith spent two years with his mother in close proximity. In that time, he learned her quirks and tells, and when his mother speaks again, her tone has him on edge.
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Green Paladin. Are you ready?”
They all nod an affirmative, lowering the visor on their helmets.
Suddenly, the world goes dark, a slight humming noise as the simulation arranges itself.
Keith steels himself, grip tightening around his sword.
For his team.
His smile sharpens, pixels building upwards, and he watches as the other three tense in anticipation of what’s in store.
“Let’s show these people what we’re made of.”