Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Lance stomps down the hallway, feeling like the world at large is currently victimizing him. He needs to pass his English Literature class, but it turns out that analyzing prose is not his thing, and when he asked his teacher for tutoring help it turns out that there’s currently no set tutor for that subject (which, how???) , and now he’s got detention because he may have sort of shouted at said teacher. Detention is not going to help him pass his class, it is going to waste his afternoon, and he is very unhappy about it. And just because life is unfair, the classroom door is one of the automatic ones where you tap the sensor, so he can’t even slam the door open “on accident”. 

The door swooshes open in a very unsatisfactory way, and Lance walks in as aggressively as he can muster before remembering that he’s also supposed to salute the teacher on detention duty. So he has to stop three steps in and snap to attention while holding out his detention slip like it’s an offering. He does not bother to take the scowl off his face, and he’s a tiny bit relieved to recognize that he’s gotten stuck with Lieutenant Wasan for detention, because Wasan usually isn’t too picky about that sort of thing.

The Lieutenant smirks and salutes back before snatching the paper and reading it. He raises an eyebrow. “You yelled at a commanding officer, McClain?”

“I raised my voice at him, sir. I didn’t shout,” Lance mutters, sagging a little. “Detartes is an ass—um…”

“Please tell me you didn’t say that to him? I’d love to not have to sit with you in detention for the next semester.” Based on the man’s grin, Lance is willing to bet that he’s not the only one who’d like to call Detartes an asshole. 

“No.”

Wasan grins wider. “Well, small mercies. So why’d you yell at a teacher?”

Lance looks around the room, it’s empty, aside from one other cadet who appears to be asleep at his desk. “I thought this was detention, not an interrogation, sir.”

“Yeah, well, I’m bored. And my only other victim decided to take a nap instead of doing his homework, so please, entertain me!”

“Don’t you have, like, assignments to grade?” And, remembering again that this is technically another superior officer, he quickly tacks on, “Sir.”

“You should know, you’re taking my class.” 

Lance is taking his class. Lance is also barely passing his class, because Flight Nav is fucking hard. He’s only passing because of the miracle that is Hunk…and he’s starting to think he should attend some of those office hours that the man’s mentioned several times since the class started.

“I need a tutor for English Lit and instead of helping me, Detartes told me I’d have to figure it out on my own.” He has to struggle to keep his voice from rising in outrage at the whole situation. “How can there not be a tutor for an English class in an American school ???”

“Seriously, there’s no tutors for that? That’s…” Lance’s teacher trails off with a vague gesture. After a moment, he shoves his glasses back up his nose and gives Lance an assessing look. “How badly do you want to pass?”

“ What ?”

“Okay, that sounded bad.” 

“Um, yeah !”

“What I meant was, ‘are you willing to accept help from another cadet, even if they’re not an official tutor?’”

Lance sucks in a slow breath, considering his options. “Yes.”

Lieutenant Wasan grins. “Cool.” Then, raising his voice, “Hey, jailbird, wake up!”

The cadet across the room jumps and smacks his head against the desk. Lance glances between his teacher, who’s got a very calculating look on his face, and the cadet, who’s currently scrubbing at his face and muttering under his breath.

“Kogane, how’d you like to no longer be my problem?”

And Lance has to keep himself from groaning out loud, because of course that’s fucking Keith Kogane who was taking a nap in detention and he’s pretty sure Wasan’s about to try and pair them off for tutoring. And Lance would probably rather fail and drop out than accept help from Kogane.

The other cadet is blinking owlishly at them, expression already morphing into a scowl. “Huh?”

“You’re gonna tutor McClain in English Lit, and in return you get to skip out of detention.”

Kogane gapes. “Huh?”

“Are you sure he actually understands English?” Lance blurts before he can stop himself. 

Wasan looks exasperated. “You said you’d accept the help. And Kogane’s got excellent grades in that class.” He points a finger in Kogane’s direction. “And you need at least thirty hours of community service in order to avoid suspension. So guess what, you’re now tutoring.”

Kogane narrows his eyes, but is apparently going to ignore Lance in favor of arguing with a teacher. “What if I’d rather sit in detention?”

“What if I actually made you sit here and do your homework instead of taking a nap? Every day? For the rest of the semester?” Wasan shrugs. “Your choice. I’ll get you a tutoring form tomorrow, you two can figure out the schedule, but you’ll help him out for at least two hours a week. Now please get out of my classroom so that I can go home at a reasonable hour.”

Lance splutters, because Kogane never even takes notes in that class, so whatever Wasan’s heard, he’s definitely misinterpreted. 

Kogane just groans in defeat and grabs his backpack off the floor and storms towards the door. He barely glances at Lance as he passes. “Message me what times’ll work for you and we’ll get started this week.”

Lance glares at his back as he leaves, then spins around to give his teacher a despairing look.

“Hey, you said you needed help. And here’s your signed detention slip stating that you’ve been released for today.” The man doesn’t even look sorry. “Now, please go do legal and productive things with your life and allow me to leave this classroom before I grow old and gray.”

Somehow, Lance feels even more victimized than he had before he walked in.

Chapter Text

Even though he knows that he needs the help, Lance almost debates just not contacting Kogane about tutoring. He even goes so far as to avoid acknowledging the other boy’s existence during class. But then they have a pop quiz in English Lit first thing that morning and it goes badly . Really badly. So he uses his school-issued tablet to shoot a note before stepping into his next class. 

Talk Eng Lit 2day? I’ve got free hr 1300-1400

There’s no reply until nearly 1300.

Y, sorry. Was in sim all morning. Free now tho, have to grab notes from rm, meet there?

And then a second note with the dorm room number. Lance glares at the screen, because he knows full well that if Keith was in flight sim, then he was taking an upperclassmen course, and he doesn’t need another reminder of how good the other boy is at fucking everything . But then he swallows down the anger and stalks towards the dorms. He’ll suck it up and deal with Keith Kogane if it means keeping his scholarship. Even if the thought is burning him up inside.

Kogane is just reaching his door when Lance gets there, and the shorter boy gives him a nod in acknowledgment. 

“So how was Flight Sim?” Lance asks, voice a little too cold to be friendly.

Kogane shrugs, like this is all nothing and like Lance and every other student in the pilot tracks haven’t been killing themselves just to get here. Like he’s not even aware of how fucking special it is to even be in the Garrison. 

Lance almost snaps, and it’s probably a good thing that the other cadet opens his door and walks inside, gesturing half-heartedly for him to follow before leaving Lance in the hallway. He has to take several deep breaths before following. 

Apparently, Kogane’s got one of the coveted single rooms, which Lance notes with yet more frustration. Biting back several choice comments on how much the cadet is clearly benefiting from favoritism, he looks around assessingly. Unlike his own room, which, while meeting military regulations, is always what he’d call “homey” and Hunk calls “chaotic”, Kogane apparently doesn’t do decorating or personal effects. There’s no posters or photographs, no stuffed animals or knick knacks.  In fact, the only personalized thing is the corkboard above the desk, which has a collection of sticky notes pinned to it. 

Kogane’s over by the bed, digging through his backpack, so Lance decides to step closer and examine the board. It’s not snooping, exactly, because the notes are already on display, and, he reasons, if they were private, they’d be hidden or something. 

The first note he reads is in neat, printed handwriting on a note with cartoon dinosaurs in the background: I did this one!

There’s no context for that note. He skims and his eye catches on a note with messy cursive writing on it (the paper is neon green): Fetus, touch my Capt Crunch again and I will END you <3

Lance blinks and wonders if there’s some sort of hidden message there. Another note, in the same handwriting, written on Hello Kitty stationary reads: Please try not to get arrested today, we’re going out this evening and it’d be really inconvenient to have to bail you out first -A

A fourth, with the same handwriting as the first note (this paper has the Garrison logo on it): I.O.U. 1 new highlighter. And, in smaller, messier writing underneath: do not come @ me, it was an emergency! -S

Kogane clears his throat from directly behind him, and Lance jumps and spins around, feeling a little guilty. Unfortunately, this also puts him almost nose to nose with the other boy, very much in the personal space bubble.

“Have you never heard of texting?” He blusters, refusing to be the one who moves first.

Kogane takes a step back like he’s being repelled by a force field. But he still manages to look unflustered, so fuck him. 

“Notes are more personal,” he shrugs, then holds up an old-school notebook. “You ready?”

Chapter Text

“Either let me back into detention or go ahead and hire me a good defense lawyer for the murder trial,” Keith announces, slamming the front door shut with all the dramatic flair of a Shakespearian actor.

Shiro jumps awake from his slumped position on the couch, glances across at Adam, who looks decidedly amused, and frowns as he turns to face the angry teenager. “You had detention?”

“That is not the point!” Keith waves a hand dismissively at Shiro and bypasses him to stand in front of Adam in what he probably thinks is an intimidating manner. “If you wanted me to go to jail, you coulda just left me in foster care. It’d’ve been easier.”

Adam is clearly trying his best not to laugh. Shiro kicks out a foot to nudge him. “What’d you do?”

“ Nothing! ” Adam protests at the same time Keith says “Forced me into slavery!”

Shiro tries to remember what exactly had made him think introducing the two of them would be a good idea. 

“So I take it tutoring went well?” Adam can’t even manage to keep a straight face.

“I am going to kill him.” Keith says, practically vibrating with a righteous fury. “ And you.”

Shiro wonders if he should be concerned for his boyfriend’s wellbeing, but then he remembers that this is probably entirely self-inflicted and decides that it’ll only be his problem if Keith actually tries to murder someone.

“It can’t be that bad. I mean—”

“We were talkin’ about symbolism and its importance in Old English literature. He said, and I quote, ‘who cares about what a flower means? It’s just a stupid plant.’”

Well, at least he knows why Keith’s murdering people then, they’ve insulted literary devices. Of course, this doesn’t explain why Shiro’s brother is threatening his boyfriend, but at least he has context. He clears his throat. 

“Sorry, but did you say you’re tutoring someone? Like, willingly?”

This was, apparently, the wrong thing to say, based on the way Adam’s signaling him to stop talking. 

“No.” Keith grits the word out between clenched teeth. He looks livid. Adam looks like he’s about to make a dash for the nearest exit.

“So…” Shiro makes a vague sort of ‘go on’ gesture. Adam kicks him, which means he’ll probably find this really entertaining in a “thank God it wasn’t me” sort of way.

“ He-- ” vicious jab in Adam’s direction--“thought it’d be funny to make me help someone with English Lit. And of course he’d voluntell me to help fuckin’ Lance McClain ,” Keith takes a deep, pained breath, before concluding. “Who thinks that literary symbolism means there’s objects in the story!”

There’s a choking sound as Adam loses what little composure he’d been holding onto and shoves his face into the couch cushion to smother his laughter. Keith moves like he’s hoping to make that smothering more permanent, and Shiro only just manages to get an arm up to intercept before he lunges forward to follow through with his previously promised murder.

Unfortunately, while Keith may be scrawny, he’s basically all muscle and spite, so instead of stopping him, Shiro really just barely slows his impact and backhands his boyfriend in the process. And then, of course, his arm is trapped in the middle of the attempted homicide. 

There’s some outraged squawking and flailing limbs and Shiro gets bit once and kicked in the ribs before he manages to get free. After that, he decides the two of them can figure it out on their own, although he does risk life and limb to rescue Adam’s glasses, because he is a good person, damn it!

The fight ends with them both falling off of the couch and Keith getting pinned when Adam lands on him with his full weight. Keith does try biting again, but several years of dealing with him have trained both Shiro and Adam to keep their limbs well out of the kid’s bite range. After a few minutes of valiant effort (and Adam going completely limp so he’s just dead weight), Keith stops snapping and works on getting a lungful of air again.

“Jus’ kill me so I don’t gotta try ‘nd ‘splain iambic pentameter to th’ moron,” Keith groans into the carpet, admitting defeat.

Chapter Text

Flight Nav is one of Lance’s favorite and least favorite classes. One the one hand, Lieutenant Wasan is one of the best pilots in the Garrison and a good teacher who makes the class genuinely interest, but on the other, Lance has no fucking idea why he’d ever need to know how to plot a course when he’s training to be a pilot and he barely grasps the math required for it. So it’s a mixed bag. Right now, he’s trying hard to not zone out as the teacher explains some sort of complex equation that helps you determine velocity and the angle of approach for your vessel and its relation to the fuel needed. He looks around the room; half of the students are taking diligent notes or staring at the board with strained expressions, while the other half have checked out. He can see Kogane’s desk from here, and the boy is clearly in the second category—he’s currently filling a page of his notebook with an admittedly decent drawing of a dog.

Lance frowns, because there’s no way Kogane’s good at this too, come on! He slumps back and accidentally knocks his own bag over, loudly spilling the contents across the floor and drawing everyone’s attention.

“You good over there, cadet?”

“Oh, I’m fine. Just wondering why I have to learn this shit,” Lance replies, his filter apparently having broken. Fuck. “Uh, Sir.”

Everyone in the room snickers. Lance prays for lightning to strike him down where he sits. It doesn’t.

Wasan looks a little amused, so at least he’s probably not getting detention again. “I see. Anyone else have a similar opinion?”

“Actually,” And Lance cannot believe it as Kogane shrugs and eyes the board like it’s personally offended him. “Yeah. I mean, I get that navigation is important, but, like, why do pilots have to know more than the basics? Even if you are doing deep space flights, you aren’t plotting courses. That’s why they assign flight teams and why we have navigation computers.”

“Okay, great. And I’m willing to bet some of you probably agree. So let’s talk navigation.” The man claps his hands together and scans the room. “Let’s say…Kogane, McClain, and…Rizavi. You guys are a flight team. McClain’s the pilot, and you two can fight over who gets—”

“Oh, I’m definitely doing comms and nav,” Rizavi interrupts cheerfully. 

“Okay, Kogane’s the engineer then. And you guys are on a deep space mission, going through some newly discovered territory. Sound good?”

The newly appointed flight team all shrug or nod. Lance is feeling a little smug, because ace-pilot-in-training Kogane is now stuck doing engineering in this imaginary ship. He probably needs to stop being so petty. Probably.

“Anyway, the mission’s been pretty easy so far, and then suddenly,” Wasan grabs a stress ball off of his desk and throws it at Rizavi, who catches it easily. “You hit a piece of stray debris that came out of nowhere and in a horrible accident, your Navigation Officer is struck by a loose instrument and is incapacitated!”

To her credit, Rizavi tosses the ball back and collapses back in her chair dramatically. Several people giggle.

“Now, you still have the computer, and Rizavi is an excellent officer, so she’s got your course all charted and programmed in.” 

Rizavi regains consciousness long enough to give them a thumbs up. 

“You get an alert, you’re approaching a larger piece of debris, and you’re gonna have to evade it. Your computer should have no problem altering the course, right?” The stress ball flies across the room again, nearly hitting Kogane in the face before he catches it. “But at that moment, there’s an issue with wiring and your engineer, valiantly trying to keep the ship powered up, has to divert energy from the main computer. And he’s completely focused on that, because otherwise the ship might catch on fire and you will all die. ”

There’s a very dramatic pause. Several students are snickering, and Lance can feel Hunk smirking from across the room.

“So, Pilot McClain, you need to quickly chart a new course. Because of the size of your ship and the size of the debris, you can’t just manually adjust, you’ll need to divert power for that added boost of speed. And you’re gonna need to be exact, or you’ll crash the ship.” He gestures towards the board. “That equation will save your crew, if you know how to apply it. Flying on instinct is all well and good, it’s instrumental, even. But you can’t rely on instinct without a solid foundation, or you will die. ”

The room is dead silent, the weight of those words hitting all the teenagers like a hammer. 

After a moment, Wasan continues. “That’s why we have Flight Navigation as a class, and why even the pilots have to learn it. Because we want you to be the best damn flight teams in the universe, and that means you have to live long enough to get there.”

The bell chimes, and the spell is broken. Lance starts gathering up his belongings, feeling a little like the universe has just decided to target him specifically this semester. Between struggling with classes and his apparently broken filter, it’ll be a miracle if he makes it to the end of term without being expelled. 

He tries to keep his head down and beelines for the door, but…

“A moment, McClain?”

Lance is pretty sure it’ll be too obvious if he just keeps going, so he stops and moves to the side, standing at attention by the desk while all of his classmates filter out quickly. Hunk gives him a sympathetic smile as he moves past. Kogane’s near the end of the pack and he makes quick, possibly accidental eye contact as he hikes up his bag and hustles out.

“Sir, I apologize for my attitude, sir!” Lance blurts out as soon as the room empties , falling back on one of the first apologies he learned after enrolling.

His teacher looks vaguely confused. “At ease? I just wanted to tell you that it was a good question, even if your delivery really wasn’t.”

“Oh.”

“Look, you’re definitely not the first pilot to ask that question, and honestly, I was kind of surprised that it took as long as it did for someone to ask in this class.” He shrugs. “I definitely don’t recommend asking any questions that way in the future, but I appreciate the sentiment. And, y’know, I appreciate you playing along while I explained it.”

“ Oh. ”

“So…Dismissed, cadet.”

Lance nods and starts towards the door again, feeling infinitely lighter.

“Oh! How’s that tutoring thing working out for you?”

And there’s the universe again, ready to follow up with a sucker punch. Lance turns around and gives a fake grin. 

“Great, all good. We are doing a-okay.” He throws in some finger guns for good measure and then darts out the door before any more questions can be asked.

Chapter Text

“So…who fucking cares what the comb represents? It’s just a tragic story about two poor people suffering under late-stage capitalism!”

Kogane looks at Lance like he’s praying for death right now. Lance can relate. They’ve been doing this whole tutoring thing for three weeks now and he still doesn’t get the point of this class. 

“Yes, it is,” And oh my God, the world might be ending because Keith Kogane just agreed with him. “But…” 

There’s always a fucking but.

“That’s not what Detartes cares about. He wants you to take this trite little story and wringing every last symbol out of it for his enjoyment. Because he loves that shit almost as much as he loves stories written by dead white dudes.”

“Ugh.”

“So think of it as a thread in like a tapestry or somethin’. Like, yes the comb is a comb. But in society, a pearl comb is a luxury, it’s something that a poor woman would treasure, it’s a sign of femininity and womanhood. You need to think of it as a part of a larger picture and consider all the context, that’s what symbolism is! ”

“Huh.” Lance blinks, still feeling whiplash from having his reluctant tutor not just agree with him but also criticize the class. 

“And then talk about the tragedy. And that tragedy is?”

“That she’s chopped off all of her hair already?”

Kogane looks like he’s seeing hope at the end of a long struggle. “Yes! And what does that symbolize?”

“Um…that she’s bald and doesn’t need his love?”

And now he looks like Lance just slammed the door to his cell. Like his hope has been utterly destroyed and all that is left is despair and never-ending suffering is all that remains before him. 

“I’m sorry!” Lance really is sorry. He’s personally responsible for one of the saddest expressions he’s ever seen on another human being, this is a tragedy. (He’s also sorry that this means they’ll have to keep going with the tutoring thing.) “I really am trying! I just don’t see what the symbolism is! I don’t know what the symbolism of hair is, and I get that you do and I just. Don’t.”

He’s actually a little worried that his tutor gave himself a concussion with how hard he just hit his head against the desk. 

“Look, maybe it’s just my English, like maybe I just keep missing it in translation?”

Kogane just slumps further on the table. “No, that ain’t it. Your English is really fuckin’ good. You clearly comprehend the story.”

And now he’s been agreed with and complemented in the same day and Lance has no idea what to do with this. “Uh, thanks?”

“Mmmph.”

Lance is about ready to suggest calling it a day when Kogane straightens up, looking like he’s had some sort of epiphany.

“How well do you know the Bible?”

“Huh?”

“The Bible? Like, y’know, the church book?” He looks very intense. 

Lance is vaguely alarmed. “Are you about to ask me if I want to be saved?”

“The fuck? No! Just…like was your family religious? Do you have more than a passin’ familiarity with that book?”

“I mean,” Lance blinks slowly and tries to figure out where this is going. “We’re Catholic?”

“Okay,” Kogane lets out a slow breath and nods. “Okay, so you know how in the Bible, they talk about women having their heads covered?”

“Yes?”

“Why?”

Lance hums and tries to recall a bunch of half-remembered Bible stories. “Modesty? Right? Cuz like the dudes had, like, a hair fetish?”

“Yes!” Hope has apparently been restored. Lance should probably warn him that this is not going to last. “So they think hair is, like, sexy or somethin’, ‘kay? Now, along comes ol’ O dot fuckin’ Henry, who’s been fuckin’ raised on Bible stories and religious sexuality. And he’s writin’ this story ‘bout some poor couple who are just cursed with the worst kinda luck. So how’s he gonna talk ‘bout the wife?”

“ Oh! ” Oh. Lance is finally making a connection. Maybe. “So he’s gonna talk about her like she’s basically some object of unattainable womanhood? And he’s also got that hair fetish, so her losing her hair is, like, the most tragic thing possible, because sexism?”

“Yes!” 

Well, Lance is now responsible for one of the best expressions he’s ever seen on a human face. So that’s something.

Chapter Text

Shiro is contemplating how much mac n’ cheese is considered a healthy serving and not a cry for help while he pokes at the probably-more-than-a-healthy-serving portion on his plate. It’s one of the days where he works late, so he gets to “enjoy” the mess hall, and that means he gets to eat all the junk food he wants as consolation. 

“Hey, you remember how back in, like, Sophomore year, when—good Lord, do you have enough mac ‘n cheese there?” Adam slides into the vacant seat across from him, looking horrified.

Shiro may have overestimated what a healthy serving size is. He shrugs and scoops up a forkful. “Don’t food shame me. I need the carbs.”

“You need the heart attack at age thirty too, apparently.”

He tries to kick his boyfriend under the table, misses, hits the leg of the table with a very audible clang, and chews on his mouthful of gooey almost-food thoughtfully.

“‘S my reward for training cadets all day. Like, I love teaching kids how to fly, but damn. I sat through so many simulated crashes today. So. Many. ”

Adam grins cheerfully. “I reminded children of their mortality and threw things at my students. So it sounds like we’re both having productive days.”

“Ah, the true calling of Adam Wasan: traumatizing children. You’d be a wonderful parent.” Shiro contemplates his macaroni mountain. “Probably tell the kids there’s no Santa Claus either.”

“Oh, excuse you! Which one of us was it who just spent the day sitting through simulated child deaths? And it’s bold of you to assume I’d allow any child of mine to believe in some creepy dude who watches you sleep.”

That is an excellent point. The whole point of crash simulations is to teach kids that sometimes you just can’t succeed and to remind them that none of what they’re training for is a game. But still, he did just watch a bunch of teenagers live out their own simulated violent demise. As for the Santa Claus thing…

“Which one of us was the one who was worried we’d somehow have to hide Santa Claus not existing from the world’s most jaded thirteen-year-old?”

“Hey, I have no idea at what age kids stop believing in that shit. Excuse me for trying not to ruin the holiday!”

This is also a fair point, since Shiro had been just as concerned about that possibility. He just hadn’t been the one to say something first, so that gives him the right to judge. He shrugs and starts in on the orange, cheesy mess in front of him again.

“So someone finally asked the question today.”

Shiro blinks slowly and tries to think of what question that might be. “Where do babies come from?”

“ No , thank God. ‘Why do we need to take Flight Nav if we’re pilots?’ Also known as the most reasonable question I’ve heard in a while.”

“Ah, you mean the question you asked back when you were still an obnoxious kid and before you learned how to have a filter?”

It turns out that Adam is much better at kicking people under the table. 

“Ow!” Shiro winces and cheerfully continues eating his lunch. “Oh! I almost forgot, Matt’s coming over on Friday so we can plan our next round of DND.”
"Well if you get to invite Matt over to play your awful nerd game then I get to invite a friend to not play awful nerd games!”

Shiro stares. Blinks. Stares again. Adam doesn’t say “psych”, so he’s just…a little unsure as to whether or not his boyfriend is kidding. “You want to invite a friend?”

“Yes!”

The thing is that, in the many years that he’s known him, Adam has never had friends. Not really. He has acquaintances. Maybe. But not friends. However, he’s absolutely certain that it would be an asshole thing to point out to his boyfriend. 

“Okay?”

Adam glares. “Why would you say it like that?”

“Because you don’t have—I mean, because you’ve never invited friends over before.”

“You don’t think that I have friends!” Adam’s glare actually intensifies. “You know what? Fuck you, Shirogane!”

“I didn’t say that,” Shiro says weakly. 

“You thought it!”

He did. He did think it. “I did n—”

Adam scoffs. “You fucking did!”

“You’re welcome to invite friends over.” He feels like it’s probably safest to just surrender and pray that the man forgives him. 

“Good, considering that it’s my home!”

Now it’s Shiro’s turn to scoff. “It’s our home, Wasan.”

Rather than acknowledge this entirely accurate statement, Adam scoffs again and marches off. Great. 

Shiro assumes that this is the end of the conversation until Adam comes marching back in a half hour later while Shiro’s sitting in the lounge doing some grading, dragging a bemused looking officer behind him. Literally dragging. He’s got a death grip on the man’s arm and the guy looks like he’d very happily turn around and walk right back out if he was released. 

“Look, see?” Adam does not release the arm. Lord forbid he let things like social niceties get in the way of making a point. “I have friends!”

His captive eyes the hand encircling his wrist like he’s considering biting. 

“That’s one person.”

“Friend, then!”

“Are we friends?” The hostage frowns. “Because yesterday—”

“Shut up, Imari. I am making a point!”

“I don’t think friends use each other as props,” Imari mutters. He tries to pull his arm free half-heartedly, clearly recognizing the futility. “But whatever.”

Shiro sighs. “Adam, all I see is that you’ve got a human hostage that you’re using to win an argument.”

“Oh, like you’ve never done that with Matt!”

“Um, I never kidnapped Matt to win a dumb argument with my boyfriend.”

Imari stares at him for a moment, then glances at Adam. “You guys are really fuckin’ weird, you know that?”

“It’s not a kidnapping!”

The last thing Shiro wants to do today is get into an even dumber argument about semantics. So instead he makes eye contact with the hostage and says, very politely, “I am so sorry about this.”

The guy shrugs. 

Adam scowls. “You owe me an apology too, asshole. Since I clearly have a friend.”

“Are you in middle school?” The hostage frowns and goes back to eyeing Adam’s hand. “Because you’re really giving off ‘look, mom, I’m not a sad loner’ vibes.”

“Shut. Up.”

Hopefully they’re actually friends, because otherwise Shiro will probably be appearing in court within the next week to explain how he had no part in this kidnapping. Adam finally lets go of his captive, who, instead of fleeing like a normal person, shrugs again and sits down crosslegged on the floor at Adam’s feet, leaning back against his legs. So fucking weird. Okay. 

Shiro sighs. “Adam, I already said that I was more than happy to have your friends over too.”

“Yeah, but then you said that I had no friends!” Adam crosses his arms. “So excuse me for wanting to prove you wrong!”

“I am sorry for insinuating that you were antisocial!”

There’s a snort of amusement from the floor. 

Adam scowls at Shiro, ignoring this. “I am not antisocial!”

“In the years that I have known you, you have been in more than thirty fights, Adam!”

Another snort of amusement from the floor. Adam’s eyes snap down to glare at his kidnapping victim. The guy stares back guilelessly, clearly not impressed. Huh. Maybe they are friends then, because Adam’s glare is fucking terrifying. 

Adam gives up and goes back to glaring at Shiro. “Like you’ve never been in a fight!”

Yet another snort. 

Shiro cocks an eyebrow and stares down at the man. “Got something you’d like to say?”

The guy shrugs. “Nope.”

“Great. Well, apparently you’re invited to come over on Friday.”

“Cool.” He stands up and salutes mockingly. “Sir.” 

Adam scowls. “I outrank you too.”

“Oh, but I’m not on duty.” He walks out while Adam’s spluttering indignantly. All right then. 

Four seconds later, Adam tries to join Shiro on the couch and trips. Apparently his friend tied his shoelaces together while he was sitting there.

Chapter Text

With nearly three months of tutoring under his belt, Lance does much better on his next paper. Not like A-plus better, but like a solid B, which puts him far ahead of his usual C-minus. He’s in-between classes when he gets the grade notification, so he shoots a screenshot over to Kogane with about twenty exclamation points. As expected, he doesn’t hear back until right around 1300.

!!!!!!!!!!!! O. Henry can go fuck himself!

He’s in a generous mood, so he decides to keep the conversation going. 

hbu 

Either Kogane is the slowest typer ever or he’s distracted, because he doesn’t respond for nearly five minutes. 

A-

That is…surprising.

Srsly??? Did u 4get 2 talk hair fetish?

Another whole minute…

Lol no. I asked my bro, he says no1 ever gets above 90 in the class. Like ever

Lance blinks. He’s sitting with Hunk in the library, so he leans over to ask his friend. 

“Hey, did you know that Kogane has a brother?”

“Huh?” Hunk was deep in study-mode, which means you could set off fireworks next to him and he probably wouldn’t react.

“Keith Kogane has a brother?”

Hunk shrugs. “I dunno. I mean, it’s totally possible. Lots of people have siblings.”

“Well, yeah,” Lance scoffs. “But his brother knows Detartes well enough to know how shitty the class is. So clearly he’s a student. Or was a student. Either way.”

“Okay?”

“‘ Okay’? This is, like, a big revelation, Hunk!”

“Just because you have a weird obsession with Keith Kogane doesn’t mean that I do,” Hunk says reasonably, earning him a well-deserved scowl. “If it bothers you that much, please feel free to check the school website and see if you can find him. Or you can be a normal person and not get all stalkery. Y’know, whichever works.”

Lance pouts, but lets it go. Well, he lets it go after searching and finding no other Koganes in either the student or staff directories. 

—

A week after his first ever B in English Lit, Lance is feeling decidedly less victimized. To a degree. He’s even feeling slightly more confident about Flight Nav, in that he’s pulling a B average rather than a C. So it’s an improvement.

“Alright, today we’re gonna be talking about calculating flight vectors…in space.” Wasan does exaggerated jazz hands from the front of the class. “It’s like regular vectors, only a lot more complicated.”

So maybe Lance was being a little cocky. Several groans resound across the room, which tells him that at least a few other people are feeling the same way. He looks over to see how Kogane’s reacting, and is surprised to find that the desk is empty. 

Pouting slightly, he leans back in his seat and ponders how unfair it is that he’s suffering through math and Kogane is not. There’s already a long-ass formula on the board at the front, and there’s a lot of letters and symbols in what should ostensibly be a numbers-heavy mathematical equation. He sighs and starts trying to translate the gibberish into something math-like. It doesn’t happen. The math is not mathing, and Lance is debating taking up a new career path that’s less heavy on numbers. Maybe something nice and safe like waste management, he bets those guys don’t have to know any fucking formulas. 

He tunes back in the lecture, notes that while the words his teacher is using are English, they’re basically nonsense, and stares at the empty desk again. It’s not like he’s trying to will Kogane into existence, it’s just that the other boy is always doodling in class and his drawings are usually a nice distraction. No grumpy, slightly rumpled cadet appears, but someone’s phone is vibrating violently now, and that’s a decent enough distraction in and of itself.

Typically, Wasan does that teacher thing where he just keeps talking and ignores the sound until it stops, forcing whoever’s getting a call to ignore it too while the whole class gets to snicker and give the phone owner knowing looks. But today it’s his phone ringing, and several students (and yes, Lance is one of them) giggle as he pulls it out in exasperation and goes to silence it. He frowns at the screen, glances up, seems to be considering how much respect they’ll lose for him if he answers it, then sighs in defeat. 

“Okay, try not to burn the building down. I’m gonna step into the hall and take this. Maybe take the time to quickly do a search for a cheat sheet for this formula?” He’s already in the doorway as he suggests this, and then the door swooshes shut.

Immediately, half of the class erupts into quiet murmurs, several phones are out for various reasons, and one or two of the more brazen cadets are out of their seats and wandering to stand next to their friends. Lance frantically messages Hunk and asks if he knows this formula and can show him how to apply it.

The door swooshes open again before he gets a reply, and everyone immediately tries to get back to their seats or hide their devices. Lance frowns, because Wasan looks stressed and he’s jogging towards the desk instead of walking in with a snarky complaint about them not being ready to continue. 

“Okay cadets, I’m afraid we’re gonna have to learn about vectors next time.” He’s still in motion, grabbing his uniform jacket as he announces this. “I’ve got a small family emergency, so class is dismissed. Um, maybe use the next hour to be productive or something instead of goofing off so I feel better about myself? I’ll get a note sent out so no one harrasses you for not being in class.”

And he’s back out the door before anyone can react. Lance frowns and takes his time putting away his tablet and getting his stuff together, letting the classroom empty out some before he bothers trying to leave. 

Hunk’s waiting for him by the door. “Do you think everything’s okay?”

“I dunno,” Lance shrugs. “When someone in my family says that there’s a family emergency, it can mean anything from ‘we’re out of milk’ to ‘Marco crashed the car and is possibly dying’.”

“Your family is an outlier and should not be counted.” Hunk replies cheerfully, starting down the hallway. “Most people have, like, normal kinds of family emergencies. I do know how to use that formula, by the way. It’s actually really easy once you break it down.”

Lance will believe that as soon as he sees it.

Chapter Text

Shiro has spent an alarming amount of time in and out of hospitals in his relatively short life. Even before he’d started getting sick, before he learned words like “myotonic dystrophy” or “electromyogram”, he’d been…not exactly accident prone, but a risk taker, which resulted in a lot of broken bones and a couple of concussions and so. Many. Stitches. But today he’s the one sitting in the uncomfortable chairs in the waiting room, and he’s pretty sure he hates this change in roles. 

He’d been trying to explain basic flight patterns to his freshmen class, fielding the usual bizarre questions from thirteen-year-olds (no, they will not be learning how to fight off alien invasions), when he’d gotten a message from Keith, saying that he was in the clinic and that the nurse wanted to speak with him. 

Given how rarely Keith willingly went anywhere near the Garrison clinic, he’d been a bit alarmed, but since Keith was still capable of messaging, he’d assumed that it wasn’t that bad and had put off answering. He’d just finished the class and was packing up his stuff to head over there when the nurse called him. Apparently what Keith had described as a bad stomach bug was, in fact, a ruptured appendix, she was calling an ambulance, Shiro was listed as the emergency contact, and did he think he could be there within the next five minutes? 

It turns out that Shiro is very capable of getting all the way across campus in under five minutes. It turns out that Keith is really bad at rating his pain and at relaying urgent messages. It turns out that being the emergency contact means that he gets to sit in an uncomfortable chair in a waiting room while his little brother undergoes emergency surgery. 

It turns out that Shiro might be having a panic attack.

He is vaguely aware that someone is talking to him, but there also seems to be a lack of oxygen right now and yeah, he’s definitely having a panic attack. Shiro knows how to deal with this, he does , but he’s a little fuzzy on the details right now, because sepsis can set in within hours and Keith is just a kid and thousands of people die from appendicitis each year and…

“Takashi, you’re having a panic attack, okay? You need to breathe, baby.”

Oh hey, Adam’s here too, too bad there’s no oxygen.

“Yeah, you called me, dummy. There’s plenty of oxygen, but I need you to breathe with me, okay?”

He can feel pressure against his back and across his chest, which is surprisingly nice given that he’s still not sure about the oxygen situation. It does occur to him that he should be trying to ground himself, but the concept’s slippery. 

“Hey, ‘Kashi, what color are the very uncomfortable chairs here?”

Shiro is suddenly aware that he has the arm of one of those chairs digging into his ribs.

“Tell me the color and I’ll let you sit up properly.” Adam’s voice is directly in his ear and he punctuates this statement by tightening the arms he’s got wrapped around Shiro’s chest.

Shiro chokes a little, oxygen suddenly burning in his lungs, and leans back into the embrace. He wheezes out, “Are you blackmailing me?”

“Chair. Color.”

“Blue?”

“And the walls?”

“Uh, tan.” He takes a slow, shaky breath. The arm of the chair continues to dig into his side. “And my pants are gray.”

“I feel like that’s cheating, given that you basically wear the same clothes every day. Three things you feel?”

Shiro takes another, fuller breath and winces. “You...and the chair trying to impale me.”

“That’s two.”

“The air conditioning.”

“Good.” Adam releases him into an upright position, but grips his hand tightly. “Back with me?”

Shiro nods and runs through a few breathing exercises until his lungs feel like they’re working again and his mind is clear. 

“I’m gonna buy a stock in this hospital,” Adam sighs. He’s squeezing Shiro’s hand in a pattern, consistent and grounding. “Given all the business we’ve given them, I could definitely get rich.”

This startles a laugh out of Shiro. “You’re gonna profit off of our misfortune?”

“Oh, one hundred percent, yes.”

“Do we get a share of the money?”

“Fuck no! It’ll be payment for all the gray hairs you two are giving me.” He hesitates. “How bad is it?”

It takes a moment for Shiro to swallow the lump in his throat. “His appendix ruptured. They took him straight back into surgery when we got here.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.” Shiro sighs and squeezes Adam’s hand back. “Yeah.”

It takes two more hours before a nurse ushers them back to a room on the pediatric ward, where Keith is already resting in one of the beds. Keith has always been on the small side, shorter than most of his classmates and somehow almost too skinny, despite putting away an insane amount of food each day. But now, under the effects of anesthesia and corpse-still, he looks exceptionally fragile and young, much younger than his sixteen years. He even looks younger than he did as a wary, scrappy twelve year-old. 

This illusion only lasts a few minutes, and then Keith wakes up with the same sort of abrupt single mindedness that he seems to apply to everything he does. His eyes snap open, and he immediately starts trying to sit up. And it’s Keith, so he manages to push himself up about half-way before anyone can stop him. 

The nurse rushes over and starts offering gentle reassurances, trying to get him to lay back down. This, of course, does nothing aside from getting Keith to try harder. Shiro suddenly recalls the first summer he’d been responsible for the kid and how much of a struggle it’d been to get him calmed down when he’d gotten sick. They have come a long way since then, so he does what he usually does now when Keith’s doing something particularly foolhardy but isn’t coherent enough to be reasoned with.

He moves to stand by the head of the bed and barks out, “Keith Akira Kogane, you lay the hell back down right the fuck now! ” It’s not quite his commanding officer tone, but it’s pretty damn close.

Of course, the nurse looks horrified, but Keith sags back down and relaxes at the familiar command.

“Sh’ro?”

“Yeah, bud.” He sits on the edge of the bed and brushes the teenager’s bangs back from his forehead. “You need to stay laying down, okay?”

Keith frowns like this is a particularly confusing request. “H’pp’n’d?”

“Your stomach bug turned out to be a burst appendix and you nearly died,” Adam offers helpfully, sitting in the chair by the bed. “Your innards are currently being held together with sutures and glue. If you sit up and put pressure on it, everything’ll split open.” 

The kid looks at Shiro for confirmation, so he nods in agreement. “That is accurate.”

The nurse looks even more horrified. Shiro’s pretty sure they’re not going to win any parenting/legal guardianing/whatever-the-hell-this-is awards with this whole interaction. They might get reported to CPS though, so that’s fun.

“Huh.” Keith looks reassured by the knowledge of his near-death, which is why he just fits right in as a part of their weird little household. 

The nurse is still looking at them like she’d like to have words with whoever thought it was a good idea to trust them with a child. Shiro ignores it, because he’s pretty sure she couldn’t do a better job with this particular kid. Mostly pretty sure.

Chapter Text

Flight Nav was canceled for the rest of that week, but the next week, Lance and every other student in the class is dismayed to find out that they’ve been cursed with Iverson as their substitute teacher.

To make his bad day even worse, Kogane still hasn’t shown up and he’s now stood Lance up for tutoring two times. Lance had excused it the first time, because he’d heard from Kinkade that Kogane had been sick, which was why the cadet hadn’t been in class. But that was a week ago, and still no Kogane or a fucking note just letting Lance know that he’s not gonna show up. 

Lance glares at the empty table where his tutor should be, and grabs out his tablet.

Where. The FUCK. R U???

He doesn't get a reply, which is about what he’d expected. Fuming, Lance shoves the tablet back into his bag and stomps towards the dorms. He marches up to Kogane’s door and bangs on it loudly. No one answers. He starts pounding on the door again, then jumps when someone speaks from behind him.

“Hey, chill the fuck out, dude. He’s not here.”

Lance doesn’t recognize the cadet, the guy’s probably a few years older than him. “Sorry.”

“ Yeah . Anyway, he’s not here. He’s in the hospital.” 

“ What? ” 

The older cadet shrugs. “He had appendicitis or somethin’. I was in the clinic when they called the ambulance. Dude looked like shit. Now stop with the fucking banging, okay?”

He turns and goes back into his room, door shutting behind him. Lance stands there, blinking his way through the emotional whiplash of this new revelation. Aaannnddd then he just feels like an asshole. 

Frowning, Lance crouches down and digs through his bag, pulling out a sticky note and a pen. He recalls the way Keith had said that notes were more personal and how he had saved even the silly I.O.U. note. He hesitates, trying to find the right words before scribbling out his own message and sticking the paper to the door.

—

Hunk decides to bake cookies to celebrate the end of Iverson’s tenure as the Flight Navigation instructor.

“Because we’ve earned them, Lance,” he says with total earnestness. “We can give some to Lieutenant Wasan too, he could probably use some.”

Lance agrees to this plan, because cookies . He’s also in total approval of giving Wasan cookies—if the dude’s family emergencies are anything like his, they’ll probably be appreciated. He almost suggests that they make some for Keith, but that feels kind of weird and also he doesn’t know if the other boy’s even back yet, so he keeps his mouth shut.

They eat about half of the cookies that same night, because Hunk can make even microwave cookies taste like fucking heaven . And then Lance eats an additional three for breakfast, because he can.

Flight Nav is infinitely better without Iverson’s presence, but it’s a lot less energetic than normal. Wasan looks exhausted, so Lance guesses that it was a Real Emergency™. When class ends, he and Hunk hang back, waiting for the room to clear a little bit.

“You give it to him. You’re like his favorite.” Hunk whispers, nudging him.

“Oh my God, you made them, dude,” Lance rolls his eyes. “Don’t make this weird.”

But, because he and Hunk are best friends, Lance takes the baggy and heads towards the front. Wasan is frowning at his phone and he jumps when Lance clears his throat.

“Um, here,” he shoves the bag of cookies out awkwardly. “Hunk made these for you. Uh, we hope that everything’s okay.”

The man blinks, apparently confused.

“Y’know, since you had that emergency and everything? We thought the cookies would be, like, a nice pick-me-up?”

“Oh.” He still looks a little confused, but the smile is genuine. “Thanks guys. Seriously. That’s…that’s really nice. I, uh, I appreciate the gesture.”

Lance grins and he knows that Hunk is practically beaming behind him. 

“How…how exactly did you make these? I mean, without an oven?” Wasan looks vaguely mystified and very tired.

“Oh!” And Hunk is in his element now, rattling off about microwavable cookie recipes and the ways to get ingredients without leaving campus. Lance lets him have the moment, because he is the star here and he definitely deserves the glory. 

Hunk would probably go on for a good thirty minutes if he was allowed, but after about three minutes, their teacher’s phone goes off and he grimaces and pulls it out with an apology. 

“Sorry, I’m still dealing with all the stuff I missed over the last week.” The phone vibrates again as another message comes in. The man groans. “I’m really sorry to cut you off, but I gotta go. Again, thank you guys so much for the cookies.”

Lance would like to think that he looks moderately less tired when he walks off.

Chapter Text

“So, Matt has this great idea.” Shiro says, very casually. “But I need, like, a ton of fireworks.”

Adam stops making notes on the test he’s grading to give Shiro a look, which he ignores because this is a solid idea, shut up.

“Keith! Where do I get a bunch of fireworks? I know you know people.”

Keith, who’s been laying on the couch mostly asleep, looks at him with open suspicion. 

“Takashi, do not try to get Keith to set you up with illegal fireworks! What the fuck ?” Well, now he has Adam’s full attention, so that’s just great.

“Shiro,” Keith says, very reasonably and with more than a little annoyance. “You are a fuckin’ adult , jus’ go buy your own fireworks.”

Shiro is stunned. That honestly had not occurred to him, but he is an adult. There is nothing stopping him from just buying fireworks.

“Where can I buy fireworks?”

“Do not answer that!” 

Keith sighs and shifts on the couch. “I dunno, man. ‘S not like you don’t have this magic device that’ll let you search for anythin’ at the touch of a button.”

“If you get arrested while helping Matt set off illegal fireworks, I am breaking up with you,” Adam announces, as though that threat has ever worked at any point in their relationship. “I swear to God.”

“If I just search ‘firework stores near me’, will that work?”

“Honestly, I’m ashamed t’ be associated with you after that sentence.” A definite sign that Keith is well on his way to recovery: he’s embarrassed by Shiro again. “Does it have t’ be fireworks? Why don’t you jus’ go down t’ the hardware store an’ pick up some tannerite?”

Adam throws a pen at the couch. “Stop enabling him!”

“I’ll have to ask Matt, but that could work,” Shiro gives his brother a thumbs up and ignores his boyfriend’s sounds of protest. 

He sends a text to Matt. Apparently it does have to be fireworks.

“So if I just search ‘where to buy fireworks’, will that work?”

“Takashi! Stop trying to make the kid an accessory and do not go buy illegal explosives! God, I don’t know how anyone ever confuses you for a responsible adult.”

Keith hums thoughtfully. “Y’know, I wonder that too. Kinda figured it was some kinda mass delusion.”

Shiro can remember a time when Keith had something close to respect for him (he’s not delusional enough to think it was ever total respect), and he sort of misses those days. Also, he’s pretty sure that Adam used to be nicer—actually, no, considering that when they were thirteen, he punched Shiro in the face because Shiro had been “singing too loudly”, Adam’s always been this mean. Honestly, he might need more nice people in his life, because now that he’s thinking about it, Matt would probably sell him for a good cookie. And his flight team, who he’d count as his main work-friends, have been known to place bets on his sim crashes with the sort of glee common to spectators at a gladiator match. Maybe he should try expanding his circle of friends, because that’s a lot of chaotic neutral for one person to deal with alone.

“If we’re not gonna blow shit up, c’n we take the hover out this weekend instead?”

Shiro stops considering his choices re: social life to give Keith what he hopes is a withering stare. “You’ve been out of the hospital for less than two weeks after almost dying, do you really think that you’re cleared for that?”

“C’mon, please! You’ve gone hovering after being hospitalized!”

“I thought we’d all agreed,” Adam says helpfully. “That Takashi is not a good example of how to take care of yourself following medical emergencies.”

“Okay, first off, rude . Second, that was one time .” Shiro throws his hands up in exasperation.

“Yeah, one memorable and very traumatic time.”

Keith groans and throws the pen he’s somehow retrieved from the floor at Shiro. “You’re such a hypocrite!”

“Yeah, ‘cuz I’m an adult. That’s kinda what we do—keep kids from doing the stupid shit we ourselves have done. Or, to use a saying you’re probably familiar with, ‘do as I say, not as I do’.”

Now Adam groans too. “Oh, that is so lame. But yeah, no hover or sims for at least another three weeks. Preferably longer.”

“ What?!? ” Keith looks horrified. “School’s gonna be out by then! Seriously?!?”

Apparently they both forgot that Keith had been pretty drugged and out for the count when they’d been going over his recovery instructions. He does not take this news graciously at all.

Chapter Text

Mamá wants me 2 talk 2 u about summer 

Lance goes through several emotions at the message. This first and most prevalent is the instinctual need to be as sarcastic as possible to his older sister, followed by the normal concern over whether or not something is wrong and that kind of pitiful “well why doesn’t she talk to me?” feeling. 

Hello Veronica, it’s so nice to hear from you after so long. We do live oh, so far apart and I know that you are so very busy.

This earns him a phone call. 

“Oh, so you do know how to use the phone.”

Veronica sighs in that delicious, annoyed older sister way that makes Lance grin in satisfaction. “Come on, Lancito, don’t be like that.”

“It’s just, y’know, we live in the same building—”

“Lance.”

“And, y’know, I know that you’re so busy and all, but—”

“ Leandro .”

“I just really thought that I’d get to spend more time with my big sister.” Lance makes a big show out of sniffling pathetically. “But no, instead I don’t hear from you for weeks and then it’s all ‘Mamá said I had to talk to you’.”

“Okay, I’m sorry. Lo siento, geeze!”

“Well, if you’re gonna be that way…” He holds the phone away from his head as his big sister lets loose a rapid-fire torrent of expletives and threats. He wonders if their mother knows that this is how Ronnie talks when she’s not around. After a moment, he pulls the phone close again. “So what do you need anyway? I assume no one has died? Or been born?”

“Not that I’m aware of? It’s just…” she sighs into the phone. “So you know that Marco’s getting married this winter, right?”

“Yes, I was vaguely aware that our brother was getting married.”

“ Please don’t be difficult. Well, Mamá was hoping you’d be okay with staying here with me this summer and then spending an extra week back home for the wedding.”

Lance frowns. “ You’re staying here this summer?” 

“Sí, I’m working on this new program and I need to have it ready by start of next term, so I’m staying on campus.”

He sighs. He feels bad for even hesitating to say yes, because he knows that the flights are expensive and that, even though his parents say it’s no big deal, the cost is a lot for their family. But he wants to go home. He wants to see his parents and the rest of his family and he wants to go swimming in the ocean and eat his Mamá’s cooking and listen to Marco play the violin and—

“Hermanito, you still there?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Listen, you don’t have to decide right now, just—”

“No, it’s cool. Um, yeah, that sounds okay.” Lance tries to force his voice to be more upbeat. “I think Hunk is planning on staying here this summer too, so it’ll be really, um, fun and stuff.”

“Oh, mijo —”

“I’ve got an exam, I need to study for it. I’ll talk to you later.” 

He hangs up, not able to deal with her sympathetic tone or think about his homesickness anymore.

Chapter Text

Hunk is staying this summer, apparently he’s taking some sort of programming course. He’s way more excited about the thought of them being on campus together than Lance is (“It’ll be so much fun! We can go hiking and stuff!”), but his enthusiasm makes Lance feel like this isn’t going to be the worst thing ever.

By week two of summer break, he’s ready to kill himself. Being able to sleep in and getting to wear his civvies doesn’t make up for the heat and the weird silence of a building that’s missing over 90% of its occupants.

Today’s the first day of Hunk’s course, and he’d woken up long enough to wish his friend luck, and then he’d slept ‘til noon. He’s woken up by Hunk and a small person he doesn’t know bursting in around 1300.

“Dude, you need to get up and eat something!”

Lance blinks blearily. “Guh?”

“Lance,” Hunk looks very concerned. “You skipped dinner last night, and you slept through breakfast. You need to come eat something. If you get up now, you can still grab lunch before they close before dinner.”

“Ugh.” And, finally registering the small, dandelion-fluff haired person standing behind Hunk. “Wuh?”

“Oh, this is Pidge, she’s taking the programming course this summer.”

Pidge waves. “‘Sup.”

Somehow Lance manages to become semi-coherent and upright under Hunk’s constant coaxing, with some small commentary from Pidge. Apparently, she’s got an older brother who’s just as much of a morning person as he is, so she finds the whole thing really entertaining. 

“Yeah, he’s a lot older than me, but we’re pretty close.” She shares as they head towards the mess. “He works here, actually. In R&D, he does programming.”

“Oh! My sister works in R&D too,” Lance says, pleased to have a connection. “Veronica McClain?”

Pidge looks apologetic. “Sorry, Matt’s, like, really bad at names. He literally described his best friend as ‘that guy that crashed our sim’ for three months before any of us got a name!”

Lance laughs, and the rest of the walk to the mess is spent trying to figure out how they’d describe their friends, family, and classmates. 

The mess is practically empty, given that almost 99% of the student body has left for the summer, but there’s a few officers and faculty eating, with the occasional cadet scattered throughout the room. Lance scans for anyone he knows.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!” He starts marching across the room, Hunk and Pidge following in confusion. “What are you doing here?”

Keith Kogane blinks at him like he’s speaking another language. Lance is pretty sure he was speaking English though, so it’s clearly not a problem on his end. The other boy looks like he just rolled out of bed, clothes wrinkled and hair…

“Dude, is that a mullet?”

“Huh?” 

“ Your hair! ”

“ Huh? ”

Pidge cackles, because apparently she’s that kind of person. Hunk looks just as amused. Lance hates them and his stupid broken filter so much right now.

Keith’s face is scrunched up with confusion as he registers that Lance isn’t alone. But after a second, his expression smooths out and he nods at the pair of hecklers. “Hey Katie.”

“It’s Pidge ,” Pidge says, suddenly dead serious.

“Oh. Hey Pidge.”

“‘Sup, Keith?”

Lance glances between the two of them so fast that his neck cracks. “You know each other?”

“Well, yeah,” Pidge shrugs and sits down next to Keith. She starts eating some of his chips. “He’s, like, a family friend.”

Keith nods in agreement. He’s back to eyeing Lance like he’s concerned for his sanity. “Thought you went back home in the summer?”

“Yeah, well, I’m trying something new this year.” Lance bristles and even as he opens his mouth, he can already tell he’s about to regret what comes out. “What, your parents decide to leave you here for good?”

Yep, he regrets it. He regrets it even before Keith’s spine snaps to attention and his eyes burn like embers; he regrets it when Pidge’s head whips around and her face is like a storm cloud; and he definitely regrets it when Keith slams his hands on the table with a loud bang and leaps to his feet so that he’s nose-to-nose with Lance.

The thing is, back in his first year, Lance hung around with James Griffin. He knows how Griffin’s nose and his collarbone got broken. He saw Griffin and two of his friends try to get revenge and watched as all three of them got their asses kicked by Keith Kogane later on. He’s seen that feral look in Keith’s eyes before, and he’s seen the violence that accompanies it.

So he almost falls over out of instinct when, instead of punching the shit out of him, Keith shoves past him violently and storms out. Pidge gives him a death glare and stands up as well, making aggressive eye contact as she grabs the half-finished meal and brushes past him to follow her friend. 

After a moment, Lance realizes that everyone else in the room is staring at him.  He grimaces and quickly walks back out of the room. He doesn’t stop walking until he’s halfway to the quad.

“What the heck was that?” Hunk demands, catching up to him. “Lance, seriously?”

“I don’t know!” Lance almost shrieks. “It just came out!”

“It was a really shitty thing to say!”

“ I know! ”

Hunk frowns at him. “Do you? Like, man, I know you don’t always mean to say things, but that was really, really shitty. ”

“Yeah, I’m aware .” 

They burst out of the doors and into the brutally dry summer heat. Lance keeps going until he’s in the middle of the quad, where he throws himself onto the nearest bench. He knows what he said was awful, it doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together: Keith never has visitors on family weekends, he’s never mentioned parents, and now that he’s thinking about it, Lance has never seen him join the throngs of students waiting for the shuttles during breaks. And he’d heard what Griffin had said that first day to provoke the fight— ”I guess the state didn’t want you any more than your parents did.” Lance is pretty sure that Keith doesn’t have parents at all, isn’t even sure if he has a family, but then he’d still gone and said that.

Lance is pretty sure he’s a horrible person.

Chapter Text

Shiro’s current plan for the afternoon is to take a nap in the faculty lounge for the next hour, then spend the rest of the evening working on his dissertation because he is so fucking close to being done with his Doctorate. He’s doing a pretty good job of the nap part, because the lounge is quiet and has surprisingly comfy couches. He’d probably succeed in spite of Adam, who’s sitting at the table nearby and muttering under his breath as he does something very mathy on his tablet, but then Matt comes bouncing in with a rather uncertain looking second lieutenant trailing behind him. 

Shiro sighs and sits up, knowing right away that his nap is as good as gone. He returns the salutes from Matt and the lieutenant, then kicks Adam’s chair to get his attention.

“So, how’d you guys like to help out with science?” Matt is practically vibrating with excitement. 

Adam is looking at Matt warily, no doubt remembering the last time Matt had asked that question (they almost ended up in jail). Shiro grins. “What sort of science, Matt?”

“Great! McClain,” he gestures for the young woman to step forward. “Tell the gentlemen what kind of science.”

“Oh…kay?” Lieutenant McClain has clearly not spent enough time with him to become used to Matt’s brand of chaos. “Um, we’re building out a new flight sim that’ll be able to replicate real-world experiences in a deep space environment. Specifically the asteroid belt.”

Shiro perks up, because that does sound like his kind of science. “How are you accounting for the orbital resonance around Jupiter?”

“I could show you the program so far, if you’re interested.”

She hands over a tablet and he and Adam both crowd around it to pore over it. McClain answers their questions quickly and confidently, and Shiro’s more than a little impressed. The code looks good, and she clearly has a good understanding of what it’ll look like in the sim. 

“When are you planning to test the code?” Shiro’s already itching with anticipation.

“We’re aiming for next month,” McClain beams. “So it looks good?”

Adam scrolls through the code again before handing it back. “I mean, until you run it, there’s no way to be sure. But so far, yeah! Need test pilots?”

“Fuck yeah! Um, I mean…”

“Does the whole filter thing run in your family?” Adam looks genuinely curious. “You’ve got a brother, right? He’s in my class.”

Shiro snickers. “Oh, is he the one who asked you about why your class even mattered? That’s great!”

“Oh God, I swear he’s not always a little shit.” She grimaces. “Well, yeah, no. That’s a lie. Can I, like, apologize for him now?”

“He made me cookies, so I think we’re fine.”

“Hey, you got cookies and didn’t share them with me?” Shiro gasps at the betrayal. “You are actually the worst .”

Matt hums thoughtfully. “I think that’s like a break-up worthy offense. Damn, Wasan, you done fucked up .”

McClain is watching this exchange with amusement. Shiro stops pouting and holds out a hand, grinning. “I didn’t catch your name, but I think if we’re gonna be collaborating on this, you’re welcome to call me Shiro. And that’s Adam, who is apparently the worst person ever.”

“Cool. I’m Veronica, call me Ronnie. If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t get any cookies either, and I’m his sister. ”

“Damn, that is cold .”

“Right?”

Adam throws a pen and hits Shiro in the side of the head. “I have literally baked you hundreds of cookies over the years, shut up. So, Ronnie, you’re gonna need more than two pilots to have a decent testing pool. What’s the plan?”

“Yeah, but if I start with just three or four, then we don’t have to explain mass casualties to the brass. I’ve got you two potential victims, and I can wrangle in Lance, because he’s my brother. And there’s like fifty kids running around on campus this summer, so I can probably find another cadet or two.”

“We can get Kogane, if you’d like.”

“What, seriously?” Ronnie looks thrilled. “That’d be awesome!”

“She’s kidding about the casualties, by the way.” Matt bounces over and flops onto the couch where Shiro had been. “But we’re trying to work out the major bugs before we start mass testing, so we don’t need a large pool yet.”

Shiro doesn’t bother pointing out that the last three times he helped Matt out with a project, he got thrown off a cliff, electrocuted, and almost ended up doing jail time. After all, he’s done all of those things on his own before anyway. At least this project sounds like it’ll be a fun one, and there’s only so much trouble he can get into with a sim.

Chapter Text

The roof of the Garrison dorms is widely considered to be one of the most well-known “secret” spots on campus, accessible by a fire door that’s had a broken handle for at least ten years and conveniently lacking all the surveillance that permeates the rest of the campus. Lance had learned about it from his sister, who had shown him the trick to pop open the broken lost during his orientation week. He’s one of the select few students that’s continued to come up here regularly, while most cadets either lost interest in it after the first month or use it sparingly. It’s hot as hell in the summers, as it turns out, but the view is incredible and it’s quiet in a way that he’s always found very cathartic.

He’s almost enjoying the residual heat soaking into his bones as he sits against the air conditioning vents and watches the sun shimmering on the horizon as it sets. The week has been less than pleasant since the whole scene in the mess—Hunk’s been his usual sweet self, but Lance knows that he’s disappointed, and Pidge has taken to glaring at him every time their paths cross (and since she and Hunk are taking the course together, this happens several times a day). He hasn’t run into Keith again yet, and he’s not sure if the other boy is avoiding him or not. The entire campus probably knows about the whole thing by now, based on the comments he’s overheard from the other cadets. Honestly, he’s just thankful that none of the faculty have tried to talk to him about it yet. 

The soft click-scree of the fire door opening quietly interrupts his most recent replay of the whole encounter, and Lance lets out a silent prayer for it to not be a hall monitor or any officer who might be inclined to yell at him for being up on the roof. From this angle, he can’t see the door, which means that whoever it is can’t see him yet either, so he pulls his legs up against his chest and tries to breathe as quietly as possible. Boots crunch on the gravel as whoever it is closes the door gently and starts across the roof, heading towards Lance’s position. 

He holds his breath entirely, willing whoever it is to not notice him and also to leave so that he can enjoy his quiet sunset and brooding session alone. The universe hates him though, so instead of that happening, Takashi Shirogane comes around the corner, uniform jacket missing and hands shoved in his pockets with an air of “very done with the day” about him. 

Lance wills himself to just disappear now. He’s hot and sweaty and very much not where he’s supposed to be and he’s well-aware that Takashi Shirogane and Keith Kogane are close (or at least they talk to each other regularly, he’s not sure if Keith is actually close to anyone), so if there’s an officer who’d probably like to lecture him about not antagonizing the star-student, then it’d be motherfucking First Lieutenant Takashi Shirogane, who, coincidentally, is also one of Lance’s personal heroes. 

The man walks past him and goes to the edge, looking out at the sunset and letting out an audible sigh, shoulders slumping a little. Lance is pretty sure that he’s probably come up here to be alone and now Lance is sitting here and sort of spying without meaning to and oh, fuck , this is awkward. He debates making a noise or trying to slip away, but that’ll also be awkward and damn, there’s no way he’s not going to look like a creep in front of his hero, is there?

Unfortunately, the universe isn’t a kind place, because that’s when Shirogane turns around and they make some very awkward eye contact. The man jumps a little and Lance considers just taking a running leap off the edge of the roof to avoid any more awkwardness. 

“Um,” Lance feels like he should probably start with an apology, so… “Sorry. I was really trying to not startle you like that.”

Shirogane does that awkward smile/grimace thing that people do when they’ve definitely been startled but are pretending that they weren’t. “No worries. I, uh, yeah, no worries.” He gives Lance a considering look. “Is everything okay, cadet?”

“Oh, yeah, no, I’m good. All good. Just, y’know, enjoying the sunset?”

“Ah. Yeah, this is the best spot for that. Um…”

“I can leave if you want,” Lance offers, already trying to get his legs untangled so he can stand. “Like, I know that I’m not supposed to be up here anyway, and—”

“Oh, no, you’re good. I mean, technically I’m not supposed to be up here either, so…I won’t tell if you don’t? And you were here first, so I suppose I should really be apologizing to you anyway.” He tacks on a very not-commanding-officer grin at the end.

Lance grins back and, before he can think about it, gestures to the ground. “You c’n join me if you want, there’s some space left.”

“Um…” A second’s hesitation, then he shrugs. “Thanks. I really don’t want to have to go back inside yet.”

The next five minutes are the awkward sort, where Lance tries not to stare and also becomes aware of how weird existing as a human being is—why are legs so gangly and stupid and what’s he even supposed to do with arms??? For his part, Shirogane seems to be having a hard time finding a comfortable spot, before he finally seems to give up, close his eyes, and tip his head back to rest against the hot metal with an audible bang. 

“So, um, is everything…okay?” Lance regrets this question, very much as soon as it comes out. 

The man hums for a second before sighing and opening his eyes again. “Oh, yeah. It’s just been a day, y’know? And I needed a break before I did something crazy like run off to live in a shack in the desert.”

“Oh.”

“How about you? Why are you hiding up on a roof that’s arguably too hot for sane people?”

Lance debates lying or just not answering, but this is the longest conversation he’s ever had with the Garrison’s best pilot, and he isn’t about to let the chance pass him by. “I’m sort of trying to figure out why I’m such a shit person sometimes and basically regretting my life choices.”

“Well, Lance, from what I’ve been told, you’re actually a pretty good person, so you’ve clearly been misinformed.” Lieutenant Shirogane shrugs. “My sources are pretty reliable, so…”

“Not sure who your sources would be,” Lance says, suddenly suspicious (and a little giddy that Takashi Shirogane knows his name). He’s trying to remember everything he knows about who Lieutenant Shirogane hangs out with regularly. “But, um, they’re probably biased.”

“So all of your teachers are lying then?”

Lance shrugs. “Probably. I did give Lieutenant Wasan cookies, so he’s definitely biased.”

“Trust me, if he was that easy to buy, he’d be a hell of a lot nicer to me.”

“Aren’t you guys, like, dating?”

The man looks a little surprised, then amused. “Damn, this place really is a regular rumor mill, isn’t it?”

“Pretty much.”

“Well, my point remains.” Lieutenant Shirogane eyes him for a moment. “So, speaking of rumors.”

Lance groans. 

“Does your regretting your life choices have anything to do with Monday?”

“Look, I know I was a jerk—”

“Well, that’s a relief, because I really didn’t want to have to try and lecture you or anything.” Lance’s skepticism must be showing, because he hastily adds, “I really don’t want to lecture you. And it sounds like you’ve got the whole ‘regretting your actions’ thing on lockdown.”

Lance relaxes slowly when there’s no “but” added on at the end. After a second, he sighs the longest, most soul cleansing sigh he can manage. “So how do I fix it?”

“‘It’ being whatever you two said to each other or?”

“Yeah, that.”

“Well…” The man sighs and shifts a little on the gravel. “Damn, this roof was way comfier when I was your age. Well, you could just try a genuine apology.”

“Oh, like that would work.” Lance snorts. 

“Believe it or not, I do know Keith pretty well, so I can confidently say that, yes, that probably would work,” Lieutenant Shirogane says drily. “But, y’know, you’re welcome to just keep sitting in the sun slowly baking and regretting your life choices instead, if you want.”

Scowling, Lance considers this. It is true that the man spends a lot of time with Keith (it’s always been a source of frustration—Keith getting special treatment just because he’s a fucking prodigy), and he knows his Mamá would say that he should apologize, but he’s more than a little afraid of getting punched in the face for his troubles.

“If you’re interested, I happen to know where he’ll be right now.”

Chapter Text

Keith is leaving the gym when Lance gets there. He stops short as Lance’s presence registers, stiffening and clenching his jaw. Despite several reassurances by Lieutenant Shirogane, Lance is pretty sure that the other boy would very much like to punch him right now. 

“Um.” Lance doesn’t actually know how to start this conversation.

“What do you want, McClain?” It’s not a very reassuring tone either, and the fact that his hands are already squeezing into fists just makes it that much more threatening.

“Um.”

“Look, I don’t know what your deal is, but—”

“I’m sorry!”

Keith blinks, but he doesn’t punch Lance, so that’s a win. “You’re…”

“For what I said. I’m sorry. I was in a bad mood because I miss my family and this is the first year that I can’t go home in the summer and I shouldn’t have said that to you and it was a really awful thing to say, so I’m sorry.”

They stand there in a sort of stasis for a moment, while Keith blinks slowly again (he’s got nice eyes, Lance notes with what’s probably hysteria), and Lance tries to stop his verbal vomiting. 

“‘S not like I haven’t heard it before,” Keith finally says with a shrug. “So.”

“Yeah, well you shouldn’t have heard it from me. So I’m sorry.” Lance feels very off balance about this whole apology, because he’s still physically fine except now he’s noticed that Keith Kogane has very nice eyes and also he’d like to beat up whoever said that shit to him before Lance did.

Keith stares at him very intently for several seconds, then nods. “‘S okay. We’re cool. Um, we don’t need to like, shake hands or nothin’.”

“Oh.”

“‘S jus’ that I’m, like, really gross, so…”

“Oh. Yeah, no, that’s cool.” Lance babbles, apparently not having fixed his broken mental filter. “Totally coolio. My Mamá used to force me to hug it out with my siblings, and that’s way grosser. And just, like, infuriating. Not that you’re infuriating, just that hugging people after you fight with them is, like, the worst . Y’know?”

The other boy mouths the word “coolio” with obvious confusion, but doesn’t seem to be too bothered by the stream of consciousness babbling. 

“Anyway!” And now Lance is almost shouting. “We definitely don’t have to shake hands.”

“Okay, cool.” 

Keith’s lips quirk up in a smile, and damn, Lance had forgotten that he has a great smile, how the heck had he forgotten that?

“So, um, I’m gonna jus’...” Keith slips past Lance, apparently oblivious to the crisis he’s currently having. “Um, see you around, yeah?”

Lance doesn’t trust himself to answer, so he gives a weak thumbs up.

Chapter Text

Way back in high school, seventeen-year-old Takashi Shirogane had stolen a full-sized whiteboard on wheels from the science department and had brought it back to his shared dorm room with all the usual pride of a teenage boy who’s done something dumb but harmless. And, because Adam had also been seventeen and a little in love and apparently really easily influenced, he’d helped hide the damn thing through room inspections. And when they’d eventually graduated and gotten an apartment, they’d both agreed to move the whiteboard with them, because by that point it was their whiteboard, and they weren’t giving it up. And now they’ve got a tiny house and the thing lives in either Keith’s room or the kitchen, depending on needs.

Since then, the whiteboard has come to serve a specific purpose as a visual aid during any and all debates they and any guests have held. Occasionally, it’s still used for equations and other academic purposes, but as a rule, if the whiteboard’s been wheeled out, then it’s about to be used to settle an argument. 

Adam is less than thrilled to come home and find that the whiteboard is out and his boyfriend is mid-rant against an unimpressed Matt Holt, who is equally passionately yelling a counterpoint and gesturing at the whiteboard. Adam almost turns around and walks back out, but he makes a rookie mistake and looks around the room, making eye-contact with Keith. So now he can’t leave, because if he does, Keith will know and he will get revenge for being left behind. He should’ve known better than to try and work from home this afternoon.

He eyes the pair of debaters warily as he edges around the chaos zone quietly, hoping to avoid detection. The caption on the whiteboard reads “Best Sci-Fi of 21st Century”, and currently lists several shows, only half of which Adam recognizes, because he’s very much not the sci-fi nerd in this household.

“Is it possible to get a preemptive divorce,” he mutters, taking the empty end of the couch (Keith has already strategically taken the end farthest from the ongoing debate).

“Pretty sure that’s jus’ a break up,” Keith replies easily, glancing at the whiteboard as though checking on their progress. “They’ve been goin’ strong for the last hour and change.”

“Thanks for the warning.”

“Shiro took my phone. Said he needed to search for a quote or somethin’, I dunno, but that was right before this .”

“And you didn’t want to suffer alone.”

Keith grins and stretches out on the couch. “That too.”

“What’s the debate this time? Whether the Klingons can beat the Jedi?”

“Wasn’t listenin’, don’t really care. They said I’d get pizza if I acted as a judge though.”

“You’re a pretty shitty judge then, fetus. Judges listen .”

“You try listenin’ to them rant about stuff from five hundred years ago! ‘S borin’.”

Adam would like to point out that he’s been listening to these rants for over a decade now, but he knows it’s not worth it. “So where’s the pizza then?”

“Think they forgot about it. Order me some?”

“Y’know, I really thought I’d make it to at least twenty-five before I became a parent.” Adam pulls out his phone and starts looking up pizza places. Keith sits back up and scoots over to “help” (criticize his choices), resting his very pointy chin on Adam’s shoulder with the sort of strategically passive malice he definitely learned from Adam, which, rude. “Do we order them anything or let them starve as punishment?”

“‘I say we let them starve since I’ve been waitin’ for dinner for more than an hour .”

Adam snorts, then raises his voice to catch the attention of the debaters. “Hey! You forgot to feed the kid, he might’ve starved to death if I hadn’t gotten home early! We agreed when we got him that you’d be responsible for feeding and walking him.”

The pair of them freeze mid-argument, looking over guiltily. 

“Oh, fuck, sorry Keith!” Takashi grimaces, then seems to register Adam’s presence. “When did you get home?”

“Thirty minutes ago,” Keith says cheerily, apparently planning to sow further chaos. 

“About five minutes ago.” He swats Keith lightly on the head. The kid retaliates by digging that pointyass chin further into his shoulder. “They’re doing maintenance on the HVAC systems so it was hot as hell. I was hoping to finish up from home.”

Matt grins in that slightly predatory way all of the Holts seem to possess. “You can be a part of our panel of ‘impartial’ judges then!” 

He does finger quotes at the word “impartial”. It predictably sets Takashi off. 

“Your idea was to drag your thirteen-year-old sister out here to judge!” 

“ Oh, ‘cuz your little brother and your fucking boyfriend are gonna be so much better!”

Oh good, he’s now stuck in the middle of an ongoing argument within an argument between two very opinionated people. Adam grimaces and settles back on the couch, physically removing himself from the conversation. Keith snickers and leans over further to tap the phone screen and select an option for pizza. 

“Well, call your own unbiased judges then!” Apparently they’ve reached this phase of the conversation: Takashi throwing down the gauntlet in response to Matt’s goading.

Keith mutters, “Does Matt have any other friends to call?”

Adam shrugs his free shoulder. “Maybe. Did you have a good day?”

This question elicits a groan from Keith and the kid flops back against the couch. Adam rolls his eyes and pokes a finger into skinny ribs. 

“What happened? Do I need to beat someone up?”

“Uh-uh. Jus’... boys .”

“Ah. You wanna talk about it?”

“I’d rather eat broken glass.”

“Fine, be that way.” Adam reaches over and tugs a strand of hair. “You need a haircut.”

“Fuck off.”

This is a peak Keith-interaction. He knows better than to take offense at Keith’s grumpiness, but every sibling instinct in him says he should definitely needle him. Adam is the youngest of six, he’s one hundred percent an instigator. But he also knows that Keith’s sensitive sometimes, and he’d bet that this is one of those times. So instead he drops it and starts scrolling through text messages until he comes up with a new subject. 

“Want me to braid it so it’s not in your eyes?”

Keith cracks one eye open to look at him suspiciously. “D’ya actually know how t’ do that?”

“I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t,” Adam rolls his eyes. “I have sisters, remember?”

“Huh.” And, after a few seconds. “Not tonight.” 

This is definitely Keith-speak for “I appreciate the offer and will consider it for the future.” Adam’s not quite as good at translating as his boyfriend is, but he understands enough. He definitely understands being a prickly teenager who’s frustrated with stupid boys and meddling family members and the world at large.  

Across the room, Matt is conference calling whatever poor friend he’s managed to drag into this mess. Adam sighs and leans back against the couch, jostling Keith a little. Keith tips over so he’s leaning on him and blinks drowsily, watching the debate reach the next level of ridiculousness.

Chapter Text

On Monday, Lance and Hunk go into the mess hall and, to Lance’s surprise, Pidge waves them over to join her table. Keith is sitting across from her, doodling in a notebook with one hand and snatching fries off of a plate set in the middle of the table. He doesn’t seem to have an opinion on their joining, but he scoots over a tad so that Lance can sit next to him. Hunk takes the seat next to Pidge and within seconds, the pair are chatting about a new code that they’re learning in class. 

Lance tries to follow the conversation, but after a while his eyes start to glaze over. He turns his attention to Keith, who’s staring intently at the page he’s been working on, tapping the pen against his teeth. His hair, which is no longer the just-barely-in-regulations length it’s been for as long as Lance has known him, is now shaggy and longer in the back than the front. 

“So, what’s with the mullet,” Lance asks, because apparently he’s never going to have a normal conversation with Keith.

After a few seconds, Keith glances up, seems to suddenly register the question, and puts his pen down. “Huh?”

“You’ve got a mullet.”

“It’s not a mullet!” Keith looks genuinely confused and affronted.

“Sure is, mullethead.”

The other boy glares. “Whatever.”

Pidge clears her throat and gives Lance a very threatening look that he can translate: make my friend upset, and pay the price. “So, Lance, do you have any interesting planned for the week? Our class is canceled, but me ‘n Hunk haven’t decided how we want to spend the free time.”

Lance shrugs. 

Next to him, Keith cocks his head to the side, considering. “Ya’ll wanna see something cool?”

Pidge’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “Do we have to leave the base?”

“Well, yeah. ”

“Is it alive?”

Hunk chokes. “Why would you even ask that?”

“Because the last time he asked if I wanted to go outside and see something cool, he proceeded to pull a fucking lizard out of a box!”

Keith shrugs. “It was a cool lizard, wasn’t it?”

“Why did you have a lizard in a box?” Lance is intrigued. 

“A bird was tryin’ to kill it, so I put it in the box to make sure it was okay before I let it go.” He shrugs again, as though to say “as one does”.

“Oh my God,” Hunk stares in horror. “There’s two of them. Lance once brought a tarantula back to our dorm because it had lost a leg and he wanted to nurse it back to health!”

Now it’s Lance’s turn to shrug. “Loretta was a magnificent spider and I’m happy to say that she made a full recovery.”

“Lovely.” Pidge deadpans. “Again, is it alive? And do we have to do any hiking to see this cool thing, Keith? Because I’m not really in the mood to hike in hundred-degree weather.”

“No, it is not alive.” 

Lance has noticed that when Keith is particularly annoyed or trying to make a point, his pronunciation gets very precise, and when he’s excited, he has a deep Texas drawl, with a twang that comes oozing out with every syllable. He wonders if it’s similar to the way he and his sister slip into Spanish when they’re together, if the accent comes out more when he’s comfortable. 

“—jus’ gotta take a hover, it’ll be fun.”

Lance frowns. “We’re taking a hover? Where’re we getting a hover from?”

“There happens to be an entire motor pool with hover bikes less than ten minutes from here.” Keith quirks an eyebrow. “So you’re in?”

Hunk starts into a protest about how they’d be stealing Garrison property, but Pidge and Lance are already grinning. 

Keith grins back. “Meet me by the vehicle pool at 0500 this Wednesday. I know it’s early, but I’m with Pidge, don’t wanna be out there in the heat.”

Chapter Text

0500 is too early in the morning by far, and Lance is half-convinced that they’re going to get caught anyways, but he and Hunk meet Pidge and Keith at the entrance to the motor pool on time. Keith perks up at the sight of them and nods for them to follow him. He whips out a keycard and scans them in with a little flourish.

“Who’s card is that,” Pidge asks curiously.

“Adam needs t’ stop leavin’ his shit lyin’ around.” Keith grins. “Makes it too easy.”

Lance debates asking who Adam is, but decides against it as they start to jog into the vehicle bay, all of them keeping a wary eye out for any one out on patrol. Judging by the way that Keith breezes through the bay, this is clearly something that he, at least, has done before. Probably often, given the reputation the boy has for causing trouble. 

Keith selects a hover bike and starts walking it towards the exit carefully.

As he’s reaching for the keycard to swipe them out, someone groans from behind them. All four cadets jump and whip around.

“Oh, come on Kogane. Why do you always pick my shift, huh?” Lance doesn’t recognize this officer, but his name tape reads Bryant. He looks like he’s praying for someone else to magically show up and take his place. “How’d you even get in her—actually, no, I don’t want to know.”

Keith gives a little wave. “How’s it going, Major? Enjoying the summer break?”

“You’re going to get me fired, you know that?” Bryant sighs and waves them towards the door. “Have it back by 1200, that’s when my shift ends and I am not covering for your skinny little ass if anyone shows up asking questions. Shirogane’s a bad influence on you.”

He gives the other three a very disappointed look, then swipes his own card to open the door. Keith offers a cheerful salute, then hurries the bike out. As soon as they’re out of hearing range, Pidge begins to giggle. 

“He thinks that Shiro’s the one who taught you to steal hovers?”

“Prolly.” Keith grins and continues to push the bike. “He did teach me how to get into the bay and which guards would be willin’ to turn a blind eye, so that much’s true.”

Lance is shocked by the image of Takashi Shirogane stealing hover bikes, let alone showing a cadet how to do the same. Hunk, apparently, has other concerns.

“Wait, so you already knew how to steal hovers before Lieutenant Shirogane showed you how?”

Keith hums cheerfully. “I stole his car the day he came to my school on one of those recruitment trips.”

“You what? ”

Pidge is cackling with delight. Lance is busy doing some frantic mental math.

“So you were, what, eleven? And you stole a car?”

“Twelve, actually.” Keith pauses to look back at the distance they’ve covered from the Garrison. “I’d been stealin’ cars ‘n hovers ‘n shit for years by then anyway. Shiro had a nice car at the time. Okay, we’re far enough.”

Acting like he hasn’t just dropped that little bombshell, he hops onto the hover and gestures for the others to climb on. He starts it and they shoot off into the desert, Pidge letting out a whoop of glee as the hover accelerates.

It turns out that Keith drives a hover like he flies in the sims—at a breakneck speed with hairpin turns and split-second decisions that somehow never end in disaster. He slows down moderately after Hunk groans and threatens to vomit, but doesn’t stop until they’re sitting on an empty plain. 

“So. It goes without sayin’ that we ain’t gonna tell nobody ‘bout this, right?” Keith looks back at them, face serious. 

Everyone makes sounds of affirmation. 

“Cool. Um, hang on tight, yeah?”

He waits about two seconds, then starts the hover again, reaching an incredible speed and shooting them forward. It takes a moment, but then all three of them register that there’s a literal cliff straight ahead of them. Lance knows that there’s screaming, but he can’t tell who it is as they fly straight off of the cliff and plummet down at an alarming rate. 

His mind suddenly snaps to a place of total clarity, the way it does when he’s swimming or flying. And in that moment, he’s absolutely confident that Keith knows exactly what he’s doing. He can feel it in his bones, in the way that Keith is leaning into the fall, in the way the hover is already angling to meet the ground at an almost 360 degree angle. This is absolutely under control and it is exhilarating. Lance lets out a loud cheer as they fall.

--

By the time they get to the canyon, everyone’s mostly recovered from the near-death experience. Pidge had shrieked and punched Keith in the arm after they’d stuck the landing and steadied out again, and Hunk had come terrifyingly close to actually puking, but they’d all settled back down after a few minutes. The rest of the ride is smooth and the rising sun paints the desert in beautiful shades of red and brown. 

The hover coasts to a stop shortly after they enter a deep canyon, the walls towering up above them. Keith hops off first, staggering a little as he shakes feeling back into his legs. The others follow suit, with varying levels of grace (Pidge falls flat on her butt). After a few moments, Lance starts looking around at his surroundings. 

“So, what’s this cool thing?”

Keith grins and points to a nearby rock. “Take a gander.”

There are pictographs, etched into the rocks, ancient symbols, signatures from people who existed long before any of them can imagine. Drawings of people and animals immortalized for eternity on these red rocks. It is, in fact, very cool. They all stare at the rocks in awed silence for a long time.

“There’s more this way,” Keith murmurs eventually. 

They all troop off, following an ancient story drawn on rocks, before finally coming to the mouth of a cave, where they all hesitate. 

“‘S a bit snug, so Hunk, you’ll wanna sorta squeeze a li’l bit.”

It is snug, and Hunk only barely makes it through into the cavern beyond. Inside, it’s cool and dim, light streaming in through some hidden openings up above. There’s rubble blocking off one potential route, the drawings seem to end there. But another route leads further in, where the sound of rushing water can be heard.

“How far back does it go?” Lance shivers faintly at the way his voice echoes off the walls. 

Keith shrugs. “Dunno. I only came in here one time, tryin’ to make sure it actually went anywhere. Sounds like there’s water up that’a way, but I ain’t dumb enough to go cavin’ on my own.”

“Where’d the other passage lead?”

“Not sure. Never found any other ways in or out. I’ve only been out this way a coupla times, normally we go hoverin’ further west, away from the Garrison. I ain’t exactly supposed t’be out on my own, so it’s takin’ time to explore.”

“I’m surprised you found anything,” Pidge says honestly. “Talk about a needle in a haystack. This is so fucking cool!”

They spend the rest of the morning exploring the cave, going back in far enough to find a small waterfall gushing down from some unseen source and filling a pool that seems to run off underground. The cave around the pool is spacious and surprisingly dry. Lance and Hunk both take turns diving into the pool, while the other two sit on the edge and dip their feet in.

It’s a sort of perfect morning and they all drag their feet going back to the hover, until Keith points out that they’ll probably cost poor Major Bryant his job if they aren’t back by noon. None of them are willing to do that, so they tramp back out of the cave and the blast of heat that hits them is enough to convince them that it’s definitely time to return to the real world and the Garrison and air conditioning.

Chapter Text

Lance approaches the sim lab warily as he answers a summons sent from his sister last night: Come down & help me w/Sim tests 2morrow, 0700

Of course he’d agreed and headed down at the requested time, but he’s cautious. He’s currently recalling the gleeful way that a twelve-year-old Ronnie had once lured him into the living room to shoot him with a modified Nerf gun. He’d like to avoid that experience again if possible. Inside of the weirdly empty room, he’s surprised to see a different sort of chaos taking place.

Ronnie’s got a tablet set up on a rickety card table by the sim screen, and she’s tapping at it irritably and barking orders at a skinny guy with the same dandelion fluff hair as Pidge as he runs cables to one of the sim pods. And somehow she’s wrangled all the best pilots in the Garrison into this project, because Lieutenants Shirogane and Wasan are there, both wearing civvies, with Shirogane watching the fluffy-haired man’s progress with the cables, while Wasan is propped against another pod and clutching a coffee cup like it’s a lifeline. And there’s Keith, sitting cross-legged on the floor nearby, eyes half-lidded while he chews on a breakfast sandwich.

Keith notices his entrance first and gives a little wave, still looking half-asleep, hair floating in an impressive bedhead. Lance waves back and eyes the coffee cup Wasan’s got with envy, wondering if he has time to go hunt some down before they do whatever this is.

“Oh, good, you made it!” Obviously not. Ronnie gives him a wide grin. “I was getting worried. Okay guys, we’re almost ready. I know you all probably know each other, but, just in case, this is my brother, Lance. Lance, Matt, Shiro, Adam, and Keith.” She points to each person in turn, just in case Lance is clueless. (Lance isn’t clueless, but now he’s trying to move past the fact that they’d used Lieutenant Wasan’s stolen keycard to steal a hover bike last week.)

Matt waves and almost flips right off the top of the stool he’s using to reach into the pod. Shiro dives forward quickly and stops him from toppling off, then gives Lance a quick grin.

“You enjoying the early morning as much as we are?”

Lance assumes that this is sarcasm.

“Look, you can complain all you want, but this way we can avoid explaining what we’re doing to Iverson.” Matt says, a little irritably. “You’re welcome. ”

“Eh, I could take him.” Shiro shrugs. He lets go of Matt’s legs and steps back.

“We’d all appreciate you not getting dishonorably discharged before I finish this program,” Ronnie frowns at her screen. “Matt, can we do anything about the visual input? It’s grainy.”

Matt dives off of his stool, lands awkwardly, pushes off Shiro when the man tries to steady him, and uses this momentum to launch himself across the floor to see the tablet. Shiro, apparently used to this sort of frenetic energy, shrugs and goes to stand against the other pod. He snatches the coffee cup, ignoring the sad noise Adam makes, and takes a quick gulp before handing it back. 

“Is there more coffee?” Lance prays for mercy from the universe. Shiro shakes his head no, and Lance wilts, letting the disappointment show on his face with what he knows is a truly pathetic expression.

Adam sighs and holds out the cup. “Just finish it.”

“Oh, ya’ll’ll share with him ?” Keith is apparently awake enough to take offense. 

“Yep. He hasn’t pissed me off.” He looks at Lance consideringly. “Yet.”

Lance takes the coffee gratefully. “I’ll do my best not to, sir.”

“I didn’t know it was your sandwich!” Keith says, sounding extremely annoyed. “God, let it go.”

Idly, Lance sips the coffee and wonders how Keith hasn’t been expelled yet if this is how he talks to senior officers on a regular basis. Maybe it’s just these officers; he knows both Shiro and Adam are known for being on the more lax side of the command spectrum, and if Keith’s always hanging around them… 

Adam is glaring at the boy. “I’ll let it go when you’re done eating my breakfast. ”

In response, Keith shoves the rest of the sandwich into his mouth and starts chewing with his mouth open. 

Shiro sighs and nudges the teenager with the toe of his shoe. “Behave. So, Lance, you ever flown any of the full-immersion sims? We were thinking it might be better to leave some of the settings off when you and Keith are flying so that you guys don’t have to worry about compensating for the effects.”

Before Lance can answer, Ronnie claps her hands loudly. “Okay, we are ready, people! Let’s have the cadets go last, just in case. Plus then I can get away with turning the full-immersion off only once.”

“I’ve flown full-immersion before,” Lance protests irritably. “So’s Keith.”

Keith nods in agreement and continues choking down his possibly-stolen sandwich. 

“You ever crashed in full-immersion though?” Shiro asks easily.

“Well…” Lance hasn’t , the full-immersion sims he’s been allowed to fly were purely for introductory purposes and there’s literally no way to crash in them. “No.”

“You’re experiencing everything just like it’s a real flight. That means you’re getting thrown around the cockpit like you’ve really had an impact while going at lightspeed. That’s an insane amount of inertia.” He shrugs. “Hurts like hell, and if you’re not used to it, you’ll overcorrect and make it worse. You can get seriously injured.”

“I broke my collarbone once, and I’d had experience by then,” Adam volunteers cheerfully. “So, in an effort to prevent shaken baby syndrome, I vote that we keep that feature off. Save us all a trip to the hospital.”

Keith mutters “how old do you think we are?”, but all the adults ignore him. 

Ronnie gives what she probably thinks is a reassuring grin. “With all of that in mind, I’d recommend you guys try to do emergency landings instead of going out in a blaze of glory, because, again, this is still in the preliminary testing phase and I’m not totally sure how, uh, rough it’ll get. You’ll do great!”

Matt snickers, but doesn’t comment. Both Shiro and Adam have a certain look in their eyes that Lance has come to associate with Garrison pilots — excited and passionate and a little crazy. It suddenly occurs to him that he’s going to have the best pilots in the world watching him fly and oh, God, he’s probably going to look like a total idiot.

“So who’s up first?”

What follows is one very intense game of Rock, Paper, Scissors. Shiro wins and cheers, prompting Adam to shove him towards the pod while muttering for him to shut up and just fly the damn thing already. Ronnie pulls up the pod feed on the screen and they all crowd around it. After a second, she activates the audio feed as well, and starts going through the final check.

“Do we get to fuck with him a little bit?” Matt asks under his breath.

Adam grins and replies with “absolutely” at the same time that Ronnie hisses “as long as it won’t affect my results.”

Lance frowns and glances at Keith. The other boy smirks. “He has this great habit of cursin’ up a blue streak when he flies solo. An’ he also has this thing about not lettin’ me curse.”

“How’s that working out for him?” Lance can recall a minimum of three new swear words he’s learned just from listening to Keith Kogane over the past four years.

“Well, he’s tryin’, bless his heart.” Keith grins.

On screen, Shiro’s strapped himself in and is grinning with anticipation. “Okay, let’s fucking do this.”

Ronnie starts the sim. The screen lights up, showing a glorious view of Jupiter, stars glowing brightly in the background. The asteroid field lies directly ahead, expansive and perilous. After a moment, a stray rock comes whizzing out of nowhere, nearly hitting the ship.

“Fuck!”

Matt has a gleeful look on his face. He taps the feed. “Just a reminder, we are recording the audio from this test for further review.”

Shiro groans. “Oh, motherfucker. Come on!”

“It’s scientific practice.”

The pilot growls and says something in what Lance assumes is Japanese. Keith and Adam are snickering.

“Y’know, it still counts even if it’s not in English.” Keith is clearly quoting someone, probably Shiro, given the context and the scoff of betrayal that comes over the speaker.

“Okay, you can all shut the fuck up and let me fly, or you can be complicit in my crash.” Shiro sounds exasperated. “Matt, I’m gonna kill you when this ends.”

Matt’s too busy wheezing to respond. Adam chokes on his laughter, but finally says “Okay, we’re turning the audio feed off. Get a move on, hotshot. We’ve got things to do today.”

Shiro mutters something that sounds a lot like “fucking finally” and starts actually flying. Lance has had the chance to watch Takashi Shirogane fly plenty of times by now, but he still feels that sense of thrill as the man speeds his ship into the heart of the asteroid belt, dodging and weaving through obstacles almost before they even register. It’s like watching a choreographed dance between the ship and all obstacles.

“Ten bucks says he goes out in a blaze of glory,” Matt says, breaking Lance’s revelry. “No way is he gonna stop and try to land.”

“Nah, that’s a losing bet.” Adam’s eyes are glued to the screen as he replies. “The real bet is how long he lasts. I’m saying fifteen.”

Matt cocks his head and watches the screen for a moment. “Thirty.”

“I’ll say twenty-five,” Keith’s watching just as intently. “Split the difference.”

Shiro makes it seventeen minutes, taking several non-lethal hits in the process before his ship systems start to fail and he’s unable to correct his course. Watching the screen, Lance can see how someone could break a bone this way, the inertia is brutal and even with the expert flying, Shiro’s definitely getting bruised to hell by the harness. When he finally crashes and the sim ends, he takes several seconds to catch his breath before climbing out.

“That was…an experience.” He grins and gives them a thumbs up, still breathing hard and looking a little shaky. “She’s yawing to the side a bit and the stick’s loose, so you’ll want to adjust.”

Ronnie makes some notes.

Adam makes it ten minutes, but he manages a very rough emergency landing on one of the larger asteroids rather than crashing, which Lance counts as just as good. Judging by the cheering, the rest of the audience agrees.

“Anyone ever told you that you’re, like, a pretty decent pilot?” Shir asks with a shit-eating grin, offering the other man a steadying hand. 

“Y’know, I think it’s been mentioned,” Adam accepts the proffered hand with an eye roll. He’s also grinning. “But it’s definitely worth repeating. Damn, that was really intense. Next time I’m just gonna blow up. Fuck crash landings!”

Keith snickers from where he’s standing by Lance, then turns to face him. “Wanna go first? Or last?”

Lance balks a little, because there is no way in hell he’s going to do remotely as good as Keith will. Apparently, Keith takes his hesitation as confusion, because he elaborates. 

“Your sister’s the one who designed it, seems fair you get t’ pick.”

On the one hand, Lance would very much like to not have to go at all. But on the other hand, going after Keith Kogane would probably be worse than anything else.

“I’ll go first.” He really wishes it didn’t feel like he was volunteering for public humiliation. “Thanks.”

The other boy nods and gives him a small smile, and now Lance can add that to the list of things that are going to distract him while he’s trying to fly without making everyone question how he even got into the Garrison. He takes a deep breath and starts towards the pod.

As he passes them, Adam gives him a thumbs up and Shiro offers an encouraging grin and a “you got this!”

Lance is pretty sure that he does not, in fact, have this. But he climbs into the pod and straps in anyway. After a moment, the walls morph into a glorious view of the asteroid belt and the inside console of a ship. He takes a few slow, steadying breaths and tries to remember every flight sim he’s ever done. 

The speaker crackles to life and his sister’s voice comes through. “You can take a few seconds to orient yourself to the controls if you’d like. You’re gonna do great, Lance!”

He starts by trying a few simple tricks, trying to get a feel for the ship. After a moment, he feels more confident and announces that he’s ready to try the sim. It’s an incredibly challenging course, and he doesn’t have much experience in flying through any kind of debris field yet since most of his classes have focused on flight patterns and basic maneuvers and learning how to manage his ship in basic flight scenarios. This is not a basic scenario. 

The challenge with flying in space like this is that you have to be aware of every single angle, because nothing in space is sitting still and all of the debris — space dust, asteroids, junk — are essentially on a possible collision course with your vessel. So when he veers to avoid a large chunk of rock hurtling in from the port side, he veers into another rock that was flying towards the underside of his ship. Because it’s not in full-immersion, his seat and the controls vibrate sharply but he doesn’t get thrown around like the first two pilots had, but it’s still very unsettling.

He focuses more on the ship’s sensors, trying to take in all alerts while avoiding incoming debris he sees through the windows. The next time something comes at him, Lance notes that there’s another projectile coming up from behind, and he does a quick loop-de-loop, avoiding both of them. 

Unfortunately, this puts him on an immediate collision course with a massive asteroid flying in from starboard. He does a barrel roll and whips around that one, and then there’s another chunk hitting him from behind and damaging the thrusters.  It goes downhill quickly from there. He lasts a total of five minutes and ten seconds before a desperate dive sends him straight into an asteroid and he feels the controls lock up as the sim ends. 

Lance sits in the seat, breathing hard and fast and savoring the thrum of adrenaline in his veins and the hammering of his heart. After a few seconds, the pod opens and Shiro peers in at him, looking a little concerned.

“You good?”

He nods, still trying to calm down. 

The man grins and offers a hand to help him out. “Good. That was awesome, Lance. Seriously, you did great!”

His legs are shaking a little bit more than he’d expected, but his head is in that crystal-clear headspace that he only seems to experience with flying and swimming. He’s dimly aware that he’s got a massive grin on his face as he climbs out and is immediately met with Ronnie, who sweeps him into a hug, spinning them both in a circle and whooping loudly right in his ear. Thankfully, she doesn’t just let him go right away when she stops, because he’d probably have just fallen over. 

“ ¡Lo hiciste tan bien! ” She grins and shakes him a little to emphasize. “ ¡Eso fue asombroso! ”

Lance laughs and tries to get his legs to stop wobbling. “ Gracias . Oh man, that’s intense!”

“ Right? ” Shiro claps him on the back, nearly sending Lance toppling over. “You did really well, Lance.”

It takes another few seconds for Lance to feel steady again and Ronnie lets go, still beaming. Matt and Adam have been busy with the tablet, but they both grin at him and give him enthusiastic thumbs-up. 

“That was badass,” Matt says and Adam nods in agreement. 

Keith gives him a smile, similar to the one he’d had when Lance finally understood symbolism, and it nearly sends him staggering again. Thankfully, his body doesn’t actually hate him, so Lance is able to smile back and strike what he knows is a ridiculously dramatic pose. It has the desired effect of making the other boy snort and roll his eyes, so that’s good.

“Beat that, mullet.”

Keith scoffs and strides towards the pod. “‘S not a mullet. Ya’ll sure I can’t try it with the full effects?”

“We kinda like you not having traumatic brain damage, kiddo,” Shiro sounds a little exasperated. “Or at least without new brain damage. So, no.”

Adam adds “I think we’d all enjoy not spending time in the clinic while you get another bone set.”

Keith makes a disgusted noise and disappears into the pod. 

Ronnie looks intrigued. “How many bones has he broken?”

Shiro rolls his eyes. “ Way too many. Matt, ten bucks says he makes it twenty minutes.”

This sets off another round of betting, with the general consensus being that Keith’ll probably beat Shiro’s record. The exception to this is Adam, who cheerfully says he’ll take the long odds and bets on ten minutes.

To Lance’s awe and slight annoyance, Keith lasts twenty-two minutes. He’s watched the other boy fly nearly every week, but it’s always a sight to see. Where Shiro seems to move like the wind, flowing between obstacles, Keith rides the knife-edge of disaster, slicing through gaps that seem too small, making sharp turns with only centimeters to spare, and doing all of it with the sort of instinctual awareness for his surroundings that Lance can’t even pretend to comprehend. In the end, Keith flies into a cluster of asteroids that are too close to maneuver through and crashes in a manner that’s so spectacularly violent that everyone winces a little. 

“And that,” Adam says after a moment as they all stare at the screen with a sort of awed silence. “Is why we turned the effects off.”

Shiro starts laughing and shakes his head, already heading towards the pod. He manages to catch Keith, who hops out of the pod but has apparently underestimated how shaky his legs are. The man says something that Lance can’t quite catch and throws an arm around Keith’s shoulders, still laughing. Keith grins, leaning into the embrace and allows himself to be led back over to the group. 

“The idea is not to crash, y’know,” Adam says with a grin.

“Fuck off, Adam.” But, based on the cheerful tone of voice and how Keith lets Adam pull him into a half-hug, both of them chuckling, this is clearly some sort of inside joke. “Next time, ya’ll need to let me try it with anti-grav.”

Ronnie has the look of a woman who’s just seen a force of nature given human form. “How are you not dead?”

Shiro starts laughing again, harder this time. He leans over and ruffles Keith’s hair. “A little luck and a whole lot of talent.”

She shakes her head and laughs in agreement, turning to look at the tablet again. The three pilots are still laughing and joking and it occurs to Lance that he’s never seen Keith this relaxed or expressive after flying. Normally, when Keith gets done with a sim, he’s all ramrod straight back and tightly pressed lips, a look in his eyes daring you to come closer or talk to him. He cuts through whatever audience there is like a knife, shoving past their classmates without even acknowledging them. He’s never laughing or grinning or joking. He never leans against anyone while laughing shakily or swats irritably at a casual display of affection. 

It’s a good look on him, Lance thinks. Keith makes eye contact with him and gives him a big grin, something loose and completely happy and at ease, genuine and joyful in a way that draws a matching grin to Lance’s lips before he can even think about it. It’s a shared moment of total aliveness that makes him simultaneously giddy and scared, like flying or swimming. Like falling.

Chapter Text

It’s a weirdly overcast and breezy day for the desert, and Lance is determined to enjoy it. He’s packed himself a little picnic with the intention of enjoying the neat xeriscaped garden that’s on campus in the quad. The quad’s nearly vacant, with the summer classes in full-swing and most of the faculty either on vacation or at work. He’s planning a leisurely stroll across the grounds when a flash of color catches his eyes. 

There’s someone sitting in the tall grass to the left of one of the smaller trails, nearly hidden by the vegetation. He frowns and walks over, because it’s a little weird for someone to be sitting half-hidden like that in the middle of the day. And it’s Keith. Of course it’s Keith, who else would be hiding in the grass on a summer day?

Lance opens his mouth to speak, but Keith, without looking up, makes a shushing gesture. He’s staring at a nearby rock with great intensity, and after a second, he waves for Lance to join him. He still hasn’t said anything, and Lance is really weirded out, but he’s also a sucker and so he crouches down and scoots so he’s next to the other boy.

There’s a lizard on the rock, some sort of giant, nasty looking creature with black and yellow skin, and he gathers that Keith’s been sketching it, because there’s a notepad in his lap with a half-finished drawing on it. It’s pretty good. The lizard looks like something out of a nightmare though, and now that Lance has made eye-contact with it, he’s possibly cursed. Or marked for death. It definitely doesn’t mean anything good. 

They both stare at the creature and it stares back with that soulless reptilian gaze. At one point, Lance shifts, and the thing whips its head up and focuses on him with a laser intensity that has him freezing in place. 

There’s the sound of approaching footsteps from the path, and the lizard stiffens like it’s preparing to launch itself at whatever perceived threat it may decide to smite down. Lance tenses, hoping it goes for Keith or the innocent bystander and not him. Next to him, Keith has picked up his pencil again and is slowly starting to sketch. Lance isn’t sure if the lizard’s getting agitated by this or by whoever’s walking past, but he’s pretty sure it’s unhappy. 

“You guys good over there?”

The lizard puffs up at the voice and Lance shifts his weight just in case he’s about to be attacked by a demon lizard.

Keith pauses with his sketching to glance in the direction of the speaker. “Peachy. You’re scarin’ my lizard.”

“Your….what?”

“Adam, if you scare my lizard off, I’m gonna be very unhappy,” Keith drawls, gaze already back on the reptile. 

Lance is frozen under the lizard’s glare again, it’s making eye-contact and it’s probably reading his mind. He’d really like it if their teacher would scare off Keith’s lizard, because he’s pretty sure it’s going to eat them. 

“I’m in uniform, brat.”

“Stop scarin’ my lizard, Lieutenant .” 

Still frozen under the lizard’s demonic gaze, Lance has enough presence of mind to dimly question why Keith’s so casual with some of the Garrison officers. Like, he knows that Keith gets a lot of one-on-one training from some of the older pilots and he knows that Keith’s always borderline insolent with all the teachers, but still .

The lizard flicks its tongue angrily and makes a disgruntled noise. Lieutenant Wasan takes a step closer and it jerks its head up, presumably leveling that unholy gaze upon its newest victim. Lance doesn’t care, it’s not looking at him and that is a blessing.

“Holy fuck! Okay, why are you guys having a staring contest with a venomous lizard?” 

Keith hisses. “Shut. Up! You’re scarin’ him.”

Thankfully, Lance’s new favorite teacher ignores him. “Lance, please move back towards me slowly . Y’know, I’m pretty sure we’ve all talked to you before about not interacting with dangerous animals, Keith. Like, I distinctly remember that conversation.”

Lance wastes no time in backing up in an awkward scrabble, still making eye contact with the lizard. Keith is scowling irritably over his shoulder, demonstrating remarkably little concern for the very large, very evil looking reptile he’s just put his back to. 

“He was happy before you showed up. He’s a nice lizard.”

The lizard hisses loudly and puffs up even further. Lieutenant Wasan eyes it warily and offers Lance a hand up. Lance takes it with no hesitation and then takes a few quick steps away from the lizard, just in case. Let Keith get eaten by the demon creature if he wants.

“It’s literally called a monster, Keith. That’s literally its name.”

Keith scoffs and turns back to give the lizard an admiring look. “He ain’t gonna hurt no one. He’s just a big baby. Ain’t ya? You’re just a big ol’ baby.”

Lance may have died, because the boy is using an honest-to-God baby voice as he addresses the lizard. Wasan looks incredibly unimpressed by this, either because he’s unaware of how ridiculous it is for Keith Kogane to be baby-talking anything, or because he’s just over dealing with teenagers. 

“Please don’t touch the deadly animal, Keith. And, I am begging you, do not try to take it home and keep it as a pet.”

“Wasn’t gonna.” Keith’s started sketching again. “‘Nd Gila Monsters ain’t killed no one since the early two-thousands. So’s less likely t’ kill me than a dog is.”

Lance would really like to know what goes on in that boy’s head. That statistic sounds a little too specific to be random knowledge. Also, he just pronounced “hundreds” as “hunnerds”, what the fuck?

“Sure, kid. You good, McClain?”

“I think it was trying to devour my soul with its eyes,” Lance says, because he may never be good again. 

“Great. Do me a favor and please don’t try to touch the lizard, okay? Have fun with whatever—” He waves a hand in Keith’s general direction—“ This is. Just don’t get bit. Or get sunstroke. Or do anything else that would mean a trip to the clinic for you and lots of paperwork for me.”

Then the very responsible adult turns around and leaves . Lance stares desperately after the man, wondering why, exactly, the officers in this school trust any of the students to not do foolish things like get bit by lizards. Keith is fully engrossed with the lizard again, and Lance debates leaving and heading off for his picnic, but instead he moves and sits next to Keith (slightly behind him, just in case). He’s strategically sitting close enough so that Keith’s elbow bumps him as he draws. 

It’s a method he’s perfected with his siblings, being in the way without actually doing anything. After the third time bumping against him, Keith stops what he’s doing and gives Lance an exasperated look. 

“What?”

“What’re you doing out here, Mullet? Besides drawing a demon lizard, I mean.”

“Jus’ wastin’ time before dinner,” Keith shrugs. He’s looking admiringly at the lizard again. “Did ya know that these fellas spend more’n ninety percent of their time underground? ‘Nd they don’t usually come out this far north. So seein’ one out ‘n about is just…”

He trails off, but Lance gets it. It’s still a demon lizard though. As though it senses his less-than-affectionate thoughts, the creature whips its head to stare at him with those blank, shiny eyes. Lance barely represses a shudder. He’s usually not creeped out by reptiles, heck, he’s usually a fan of them. But this one…

“So do you just like lizards, or what?”

“I like animals in general, it’s just that there’s lotsa lizards out here. Ya’ll got lizards wherever you’re from?”

Lance decides to take this question at face value, because Keith hasn’t struck him as being a racist asshole before now, just an awkward one. “Yeah, man, we have lizards in Cuba . Lots of iguanas, some anoles, and a bunch I don’t know the names of.”

The lizard starts moving, and Lance freezes to watch. It looks incredibly unimpressed and starts waddling its way off of the rock and then slowly disappears into the grass. Keith looks genuinely disappointed at its departure. Lance sends up a silent prayer of thanks for his survival and for Keith’s (since the other boy clearly has no self-preservation at all). 

“So,” he says after a minute. “I’m going to the garden, if you wanna come. I’m sure we can find you another lizard or like a cool bug to play with.”

Keith gives him a stupidly hopeful look at this idea and shrugs in an agreeable way. And Lance is fine, he’s totally fine.

Chapter Text

Shiro would like to think that he’s a relatively patient man, but that patience is one hundred percent finite and usually mostly spent on dealing with the cadets he works with (especially his brother). So he’s probably a little short when Matt comes busting into the office he’s using (it’s technically Adam’s office, which means it’s basically his by extension anyway) and declares that he’s come up with the theme for this year’s Fourth of July display.

Thankfully, Matt’s always been the sort of person to let that sort of thing slide. “So after last year’s, um, accident, I’ve decided to go the drone route. Pidge is already onboard, but we need about a hundred drones and we only have five.”

“You want me to help you steal government drones.” Shiro doesn’t even bother phrasing this as a question. He also pulls out his phone and shoots Adam a text: Do they still keep drones in Annex A?

This earns him a phone call.

“Tell Matt that he needs to learn how to steal his own government property. How else will he ever learn?”

“So…is that a no?”

Adam sighs. “They moved them to the motor pool for some reason. Honestly, how’s he going to learn to be an independent criminal if you keep coddling him?”

“Thanks, love.” Shiro grins at the even more exasperated sigh this elicits and hangs up. He turns to Matt. “Who’s on duty in the motor pool today?”

“Imari, I think?”

Shiro grins wider, because Curtis Imari is hands-down one of his favorite people to deal with when doing semi-illegal shit now. In addition to having an excellent capacity for dealing with Matt’s…Matt-ness, he’s got zero qualms about getting involved with mischief. “Sweet, he’ll probably help us load them in exchange for your help with whatever project he’s working on.”

They don’t leave immediately, Matt cheerfully explaining his plan for the drones while watching as Shiro quickly moves everything on the desk two inches to the right and then steals the candy bar stashed in the desk drawer, replacing it with a cartoon-printed sticky note that reads “I love you”. 

Matt quirks an eyebrow. “You guys have a weird relationship, did you know that?”

“It’s been said,” Shiro flicks the lights off and starts into the hall. 

His phone buzzes about halfway to the motor pool and he pulls it out, reads the text, rereads the text, and contemplates his life choices. “Does Pidge ever try to interact with poisonous animals? Like, is that a normal kid thing?”

“Pidge claims to be allergic to the outdoors,” Matt replies. “So, no, she really doesn’t try to mess with any animals. I definitely messed with wild animals, but since we lived in the city, that really meant things like cats, dogs, and the occasional rat. What’d Keith do this time?”

There’s no point in even pretending to deny Keith’s involvement. 

“I guess he was messing with a poisonous lizard or something? I don’t really know?”

Matt hums. “Your duckling leads an interesting life. Did he get bit?”

“No?” Shiro frowns, then texts that question. The reply comes pretty quickly. “No. Apparently he just cooed at it like it was a baby and then got cranky because Adam scared it.”

“Huh.” He sounds slightly disappointed. 

Curtis is on duty, and he gives them a quizzical look when they enter, leaning back against the desk with a bored air as soon as Shiro returns his salute. “You guys here to steal shit?”

“Drones,” Matt nods happily. “I need about ninety.”

“I can get you ten.”

“Eighty.”

“Ten.”

What follows is the most half-sided bartering exchange in the history of bartering. Matt is enthusiastic and passionate and Curtis is…very clearly not invested in this conversation at all. He does shoot Shiro an incredulous look when Matt tries to declare that having at least seventy drones “is vital to the continued sanctity of the holiday”. Shiro shrugs, a little apologetic, because that is a bit much. 

Finally, Matt reaches the bribery portion of his plea. “I’ll give you a copy of the program we run!”

“I actually have no need for a light-show program, Matt. Like, at all.”

“You’ve got a capstone project this year right? I can be your rubber ducky!”

Curtis looks a little alarmed by the offer. This, Shiro thinks, is a wise feeling to have. Matt would be truly terrible at mimicking an inanimate object. 

“Come on, man, you gotta work with me.”

“Technically, I’m supposed to be reporting you for attempted theft right now. So.”

Shiro nods in appreciation for this point. “Thank you for not doing that.”

Matt is getting desperate. “C’mon, Curtis, you gotta want something! I need the drones.”

“You need to remember that I am stuck here for the next…” He checks his watch. “Five hours. So I actually have plenty of time to argue about this.”

“I kind of have plans to go home before sunset today,” Shiro interjects. “So if we could not do that?”

“I am begging you!” Matt looks ready to get down on his hands and knees.

“What’s your best offer? I might be willing to part with twenty.” The smirk makes it very clear that this is being done out of pity and potential favor-owing. 

“My undying thanks?” Shiro shrugs. If he had a dollar for every favor he owes his friends, he’d be rich as fuck. 

Matt waves his hands enthusiastically. “Yes, that! And whatever he has in his wallet. And I will personally review your codes before you submit them.”

It takes a moment for this last bit to register, because both Shiro and Curtis are distracted by determining what’s actually in Shiro’s wallet (a Canadian dollar, two ancient-looking yen, an even older Monopoly Get Out of Jail Free card, and a really beat-up candy wrapper). Shiro holds out the offering sheepishly.

“I’ll take the code review. Um, no thank you?” Curtis eyes the eclectic change and trash with open confusion. 

Shiro nods in complete understanding and stuffs everything back into his pocket. 

“You carry a Get Out of Jail Free card around with you? Are you a walking meme or something?”

Matt interjects gleefully. “I’ve been saying that for years!”

“I actually have no idea why it’s in my wallet,” Shiro admits, feeling a little judged. “I’m gonna claim that there was a reason and hope that you guys don’t question me further on this.”

Curtis shrugs. “Fair enough. Matt, what’s in your wallet? I was promised the contents of a wallet, and all the esteemed First Lieutenant Shirogane has on him is trash and a reference to an ancient internet joke.”

Matt has fifteen dollars, which he parts with grudgingly. This exchange completed, Curtis cheerfully produces some keys and leads the way to a supply locker. Shiro’s impressed by the sheer number of drones they have stored inside. Matt, on the other hand, is indignant.

“You can only let me have twenty? What the fuck, man? There’s gotta be at least five hundred of them here!”

“Six hundred and seventy-five,” the man looks haunted. “I got stuck on inventory last month.”

“But you’ll only give me twenty? ”

“Look, I’m sorry, but your fifteen dollars and Shiro’s undying gratitude aren’t worth more than that. No offense.” 

Honestly, Shiro can appreciate the dedication to sticking with that number. He says as much and gets the Holt Death Glare™ in return. Next to him, Curtis grins easily and starts spinning the keyring around his finger. He’s either immune to the Death Glare™ or is just bored beyond self-preservation. 

“I also offered to assist you with your code.” Matt’s tone is icy. 

Curtis shrugged. “Believe it or not, since I had originally planned on not having your help, you trying to leverage that actually has no effect on me. Although I absolutely wouldn’t mind the assistance. Anyway, twenty drones, take it or leave it.”

Shiro has a sudden thought. “Hey, this locker doesn’t have one of those sensors on it that tracks how long it’s opened and by whom, does it?”

“No, it’s just an old storage locker, they haven’t gotten security set up for that yet.” Curtis smirks. “And anyway, I’m more than happy to inform the tribunal that a superior office ordered it opened. ‘Oh, yes, it was definitely my flight commander who ordered me to assist with the theft of government property. I was completely powerless to resist!’”

“Are you throwing me under the bus?” He doesn’t know whether to be impressed or offended. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sir!”

So, yes, he absolutely would dream of it. 

“Matt, can you just take the offer so I can go home on time?” Shiro definitely doesn’t whine as he says this. 

Matt lets out a sigh like his soul is escaping him, then slumps defeatedly. “Fine. Fine. Twenty drones it is. Help us load the car?”

The other officer accidentally flings the keys across the floor when the keyring slips while he’s spinning them. He swears quietly and stoops to grab them. “Sorry, but I literally cannot leave this building unless there’s an actual emergency. So since your little project is not an invasion by furry purple aliens, nope.” 

“I could order you to help us,” Shiro offers helpfully.

“Pretty sure that’d be treason or something, but sure, you could.” The man considers the keys, then shrugs and pockets them. “I wouldn’t fight you on it. Beats sitting here and hoping for alien invasions or vehicular theft.”

“I mean, it is for a celebration of America, so that probably negates the treason.”

“Oh, well, God bless America and all that.” 

Matt steps into the locker and starts loading up on drones. “This facility is just brimming with patriotic fervor, isn’t it? Thank you for assisting with the annual Holt family celebration, man. It’s much appreciated.”

“Yeah, sure. So how’s the new sim program going? I heard you guys did the first test flight.” 

“It’s gonna be epic when it’s done!” Matt shoves an armful of drones at Shiro. “We’ve got some bugs with the handling, but I think it’ll be ready for use next semester.”

Shiro nearly drops one of the drones and grimaces. “Be careful, Matt. But yeah, it’s going great. I’m placing bets on how long it takes Iverson to have us using it in training.”

“Well let me know when you get to the point where you want to run it with a full flight team. It’s been a whole week since I had anything interesting to work on.” Curtis considers the armful of drones that Matt is trying to hand him. “That is definitely more than twenty, Matt. You call yourself a genius?”

“In for a penny?” Matt offers hopefully. 

“In for a dishonorable discharge!”

Shiro’s friends can argue like there’s no tomorrow. Ever since they met, Matt and Curtis have had a bromance that seems to alternate between them collaborating to make Shiro’s life more difficult and them trying to drive each other insane. This would be fine, except for the fact that Shiro has to work with Matt on a regular basis and he literally has to trust Curtis with his life in the field. 

“Oh, did you gain rank? Because you’re being a real Captain buzzkill .”

“Again, I’m supposed to be reporting you right now. Not helping you commit theft!” 

“And we all greatly appreciate your sacrifice,” Shiro interjects quickly. “So much.”

Curtis snorts and grabs two of the drones off of Shiro’s pile, putting them back on the shelf. “Damn straight. Matt, learn to count. Because I am not going down for missing inventory. Iverson wouldn’t just court-marshal me, he’d find me in a dark alley afterwards and fucking kill me. That is not how I’m going out.”

“How are you going out?” Shiro’s genuinely curious, because hearing about other people’s morbid visions of the future never ceases to entertain.

“Ideally, old age. But alternatively, I’m gunning for discovering a space kraken and being eaten.”

“Solid plan. Very dramatic. I’m hoping for alien abduction followed by an autopsy myself.”

They start lugging the drones out of the building and towards Matt’s car.

“Oh, that’s a classic. Matt, death of choice?”

Matt hums, struggling to see over the drones stacked in his arms. “Space gladiator battle. I’d win, but then I’d succumb to my injuries. Does anyone in our social circles want to die from normal causes?”

“Um,” Shiro pauses to adjust his grip. “Adam says he’s hoping to go out in a glorious blaze of fire during a dog fight. I think that’s as close as we’re getting.”

“Y’know, test pilots are a whole ‘nother breed of crazy.” Matt stops and starts trying to fish out his car keys without dropping anything. “What do you think Ronnie’s death of choice is?”

Curtis moves to take Matt’s armful of drones before disaster can strike. “Who?”

“Veronica McClain. She’s in R&D, you definitely know her.”

“ Oh . I love her. She wants to be murdered by a rogue A.I. program. We were on patrol together last week, had lots of time to chat about our imminent demises.”

Shiro starts handing drones to Matt so the younger man can stack them carefully on the backseat. “We should start a survey. How many people here want to die via space or sci-fi related causes versus some sort of fiery explosion.”

“Do we include cadets? Because I feel like that would be a really good personality test. Like, forget aptitudes or skills, your ideal death will tell us if you’re a pilot or an engineer. We can revolutionize the way this institution operates.” Curtis hands over his drones with a flourish. “And on that note, I am going to return to my post and pretend that I do not know you losers at all. Matt, you have my drones back by EOD on the fifth, or I will kill you and you will not die in anything resembling a dignified manner.”

Matt grins cheerfully, not even a little scared of what Shiro is pretty sure is a real threat. “‘Kay, thanks! Love ya!”

Curtis flips him off without stopping to turn around. Shiro snorts and starts back towards the main building as well, planning to put some distance between himself and the stolen goods. He just prays to God that Keith never finds out about this, because it’ll give him all sorts of new ideas.

Chapter Text

“So what’re your plans for the fourth?” Pidge busts into their dorm room, startling a yelp out of Hunk and making Lance jump.

“What the fuck, Pidgeon!” Lance throws a pillow at her. “Learn to knock!”

Hunk stares blearily. “What time issit?”

“0530, now answer the question.”

Lance groans and presses his face into the pillow. “Fuck off.”

“God, you’re really not a morning person. So, I’m assuming that you didn’t have plans, which means you are now formally invited to the annual Holt celebration, along with any family members you may care to bring.”

Hunk grins weakly. “Thanks, Pidge. Go away.”

She flies back out of the room without another word, leaving them to try and recover from the near-heart attack in peace.

—

Lance and Hunk get to ride with Pidge and her brother to the party, because Lance’s big sister is the actual worst and also a traitor and had decided she’d rather hang out with her girlfriend than go to a party with strangers. Matt is a terrifying driver, easily distracted and inclined to take his eyes off the road at a moment’s notice. By the time they arrive, Lance and Hunk are both green and nauseous. 

The nausea increases upon meeting the Holt parents, because of course Pidge had failed to mention that her parents are both high ranking officers. Hunk actually starts to salute before Commander Holt laughs and reminds them that they’re neither in uniform nor on campus. Dr. Holt smiles warmly and gives them a quick tour of the home before glancing at Matt.

“What time did you tell your friends to show up?”

Pidge scoffs. “Bold of you to assume that Matt has multiple friends.”

“ Excuse you ,” Matt says with great affront. “I am a regular social butterfly. But I told my best friend to show up around noon.”

“Shiro doesn’t count, Mom and Dad basically adopted him years ago!”

Dr. Holt clears her throat to interrupt. “Hun, it’s already one.”

“...I should probably have told his much more responsible boyfriend what time to show up, because he has almost definitely forgotten.” Matt grimaces. “I’ll call.”

The doorbell rings about ten minutes later and Pidge grins and shouts “I’ll get it!” in a manner that strongly suggests that she’s up to some sort of mischief. Lance and Hunk follow awkwardly, because that’s what you do at your friend’s house when you don’t know anyone. She opens the door in the middle of a conversation taking place outside. 

“--me out of whatever this is. Ow, Keith! ”

Shiro’s standing on the top step, holding a struggling Keith upside down by one ankle. Adam is rubbing his arm and frowning at both of them from a few feet away. Lance is a little surprised to see Keith with them, but he supposes it’s nice that they’ve made sure he has somewhere to go for the holiday.

“Hi guys!” Pidge chirps sweetly. “Happy America day.”

Both men jump and give her guilty grins and a sheepish “Hey, Pidge.” Keith, still upside down and in the air, takes a swipe at Shiro’s leg with one arm, face red and scowling. 

Shiro smoothly pulls his leg out of reach without even blinking. “Keith, I’ll drop you on your head if you keep it up.”

“What’d he do?” Pidge tilts her head all the way to the side, trying to match Keith’s angle.

“He’s just being a nuisance. Hey you two, how’s it going?”

Hunk and Lance both make positive sounds and try not to block the doorway. Keith flails out a leg and almost connects with Shiro’s shoulder, but Shiro manages to catch the offending limb with his free hand. Adam eyes them warily and edges past them into the house. 

“We all agreed that you wouldn’t get a concussion this year,” He tosses over a shoulder as he moves towards the hallway. “Hey guys. What, no Ronnie today?”

Lance shrugs. “She wanted to spend a peaceful evening with people she actually liked.”

“Oh, ouch. Gotta say though, that does sound kind of appealing right now.”

On the front step, Keith is trying to do a complicated sit-up so that he can reach his ankles. After a second, Shiro (carefully) lets go, dropping the teenager onto the ground and jumping back and out of striking distance. Pidge has her phone out and is already recording as Keith scrabbles around on the ground for a moment like an upside down beetle before flipping upright and diving at Shiro. Shiro dodges to the side and then makes a not-so-dignified dash for the door, Keith right behind him. 

Apparently, Shiro’s strategy is to make a full-on sprint when he’s inside, which he does while narrowly avoiding a collision with a very exasperated Adam. He streaks straight into the living room and proceeds to use Matt as a human shield. Keith, hot on his heels, does run into Adam, ricochets off with a grunt, dives over the couch, and proceeds to charge Matt and Shiro. Matt yelps and starts struggling to get out of Shiro’s grip but doesn’t succeed in time, and all three of them go crashing to the ground.

Pidge is filming the whole thing. “Behold, the weird social rituals of jocks.”

“Not sure that Matt counts as a jock,” Adam eyes the tangle of flailing limbs for a moment before heading for the kitchen. “Afternoon, sir.”

Mr. Holt hums consideringly from the kitchen entrance. “Glad you guys were able to join us, Colleen was starting to think you’d gotten lost. And given that Matt didn’t even make it a full season in baseball, probably not. Hey, boys, please watch out for the furniture!”

Lance and Hunk are still standing in the entrance way, watching this scene unfold with more than a little shock. Pidge is narrating her video with a faux-British accent as the wrestling match between some of the Garrison’s best and brightest continues, while one of the Garrison’s highest-ranking officers stands in the room watching with amusement and their teacher shouts occasional suggestions at the combatants. And apparently the Holts have a dog, who’s appeared out of nowhere and is now barking excitedly and trying to join the trio on the ground.

Honestly, Lance can’t even count this as one of his top three most chaotic holiday gatherings, although it’s definitely the most surreal. He almost wants to send a video to Ronnie with the caption “see what you’re missing”, but that would probably prove her point, so he doesn’t. 

Dr. Holt comes in, surveys the scene, and sighs. “Katie, please stop recording, you know you’re not allowed to post videos of family gatherings online. Matthew, do not bite the child!”

“He bit me first!” Matt shrieks from somewhere in the pile.

“I don’t care, you’re not biting him back!”

Adam chimes in with a groan. “Keith, don’t bite people! Especially Matt, you have no idea where he’s been.”

This earns him a look from Dr. Holt. He does a sort of surrendering gesture and moves towards the wrestling match. Narrowly avoiding several limbs, he grabs an ankle and hauls Keith out of the dogpile and into the air. After a moment’s pause while he adjusts his grip and Keith flails wildly, he gives up and tosses the boy onto the couch before walking back to where he’d been standing before. 

Dr. Holt nods approvingly at him and then levels a look at Keith. “How have you been, Keith? Keeping out of trouble?”

“Yes’m.” Keith has a vaguely hunted expression, like he’s debating bolting under her gaze. “Um, I’ve been good. Passed all my classes ‘n everythin’.”

She then proceeds to ask him basic mom questions—”What classes did you have? Have they been feeding you enough? Did you do anything fun last month?” And so on — all while ignoring Shiro and Matt’s continued altercation on the floor. Keith looks more and more skittish, first glancing longingly back at the floor, then trying unsuccessfully to make eye-contact with Adam. He even gives Lance and Hunk a pleading look somewhere around the “Are you having a good break?” point.

Pidge giggles from next to Lance. He jumps at her sudden apparition next to him. She grins widely. “I think he’d rather sit through a lecture from Iverson than talk to my mom.”

“He looks like he’s caught in a trap and is debating chewing off his own arm,” Hunk observes. 

“Definitely does,” Pidge agrees. “I wish I had a video of the first time they met, it was literal comedy gold!”

Across the room, Shiro might have just won, since he’s sitting on top of Matt with a smirk. Matt is too busy trying to fight off the dog’s affection to continue struggling. Dr. Holt finally seems to take pity on poor Keith and turns her attention to the duo.

“Shiro, it’s lovely to see you again. Please try not to suffocate my oldest.”

Shiro grins sheepishly and gets up. “Hey Colleen, thanks for having us!”

Chapter Text

Apparently, only the first half of the annual Holt celebration takes place at their actual home. After dinner, Matt announces that they’re all heading to the desert because he and Pidge have put together a special display for the year.

“There’s no explosives this time,” he adds quickly after registering the alarmed looks on several faces. “No pyrotechnics at all, I swear!”

The Holts’ car will only fit five people, so then comes a long debate over who’s riding with whom. In the end, Pidge, Hunk, and Matt agree to ride in the Holt car (Matt had argued that he’d rather ride in the other car right up until he realized he’d be sitting next to Keith), so Lance is riding in Shiro’s car. Which, apparently, Shiro isn’t allowed to drive at the moment, because he is apparently a very bad driver.

“At least I don’t drive like an old man,” Shiro complains loudly, climbing into the passenger seat. 

“No, you just drive about thirty miles over the speed limit and forget that brakes exist.” Adam starts the car and pulls out. “It’s genuinely terrifying being a passenger in your car.”

“Wimp! And you call yourself a pilot. So, Lance, how’s break been so far?”

Lance blinks and tries to remember English. “Um, pretty good. I, uh, I haven’t gotten heat stroke yet.”

“Well that puts you ahead of some of the people in this car.” Shiro says, then puts an arm up to block a blind swat from the driver’s side. “Oh c’mon babe, it was really funny!”

Next to Lance, Keith’s put his knees up, bracing his feet against the back of the seat in front of him. He starts rolling the window down and then back up again, staring out at the passing scenery.

“So you guys do this every year? Like, celebrate with the Holts?” Lance asks, recognizing a chance to collect more information. Maybe he can figure out how Keith fits into this puzzle, why he’s seemingly a part of a package deal with the Garrison’s power couple, what his whole deal is. 

“Mostly. Sometimes we go into town and watch the show that they put on in the park, but honestly the Holts always seem to put together a better show than the city. Matt and Pidge are scarily good at explosives and light shows. Hey, Keith, leave the window up before you let all the cold air out!”

Keith makes a disgruntled noise but stops playing with the window. 

“Thank you,” Shiro says, glancing back. “Anyway, we usually do holidays with the Holts. Matt and I have been friends since high school, he was about a year behind me in school so we had overlapping classes.”

“Oh, that’s cool. And you and Adam were in the same class, right?”

“Yeah, class of 2308.”

“Oh my God, I can’t believe it’s been that long!” Adam laughs. “We’re gonna be getting an invite to the ten-year reunion before you know it.”

From next to Lance, Keith snorts in amusement. “Damn, ya’ll are ancient.”

“It’ll happen to you too, just you wait,” Shiro says cheerfully. “Lance, you usually go home in the summers, right? You do anything fun for this particular holiday?”

Lance really doesn’t want to talk about home right now, he’d much rather keep talking about how quickly they’ll get old. “Oh, y’know, my family gets together and we usually go to the beach, since it’s right there. We usually play with sparklers and go swimming in the ocean. And there’s so many fireworks and drone shows going on that we don’t do anything special. Usually my primos and I take out the boards and sit in the water to watch, ‘cuz the lights reflect off the water and it’s really, um, nice.”

His voice cracks a little at the end, and he blinks rapidly, feeling his face grow hot with embarrassment. 

“I’ve never seen the ocean,” Keith says suddenly. “Can’t imagine all that water. Saw the Mississippi once, ‘nd that’s, like, so much water. Hard to believe there’s that much potable water right there and you c’n jus’, like, walk right out to it.”

“That’s because you’re a feral desert child. And if you don’t get your feet out of my back, I’m gonna pull over and make you walk the rest of the way,” Adam replies, accepting the change in subject without any objection. 

Keith responds by pushing his feet harder against the seat. This sets off a short fight wherein Adam tries to hit the offending legs without swerving the car off the road and Shiro has to eventually intervene before they can actually crash. By the time peace is restored, Lance has his emotions back under control, aside from lingering embarrassment because he just about cried like a baby in front of his hero, one of his teachers, and the kid he’s had a rivalry with for the past four years. (The kid who just helped change the subject and draw attention away from him without even acknowledging the awkwardness.)

“Keith, I noticed that you didn’t actively avoid Colleen this time,” Shiro says after a moment. He has a tone to his voice that Lance recognizes from many teasing conversations with his siblings. “Proud of you, bud. No longer hiding from a middle-aged housewife.”

Keith flips him off. “Fuck off. Dr. Holt is fuckin’ terrifyin’.”

“She really is,” Adam agrees, eyes back on the road. Lance has only met the woman once, and he’s inclined to agree as well. 

Shiro snorts. “Keith, all she did was ask you about how school was. And language .” 

“Fuck. Off . Why does she need to know that? And why does she always ask if I’m eatin’? That’s just weird. What’s she tryin’ to insinuate?”

“I think that’s just a mom thing,” Lance offers. “My Mamá always asks that, even if she knows I’ve been eating.”

Keith squints at him skeptically. “It’s weird.”

“Can confirm, moms are like that.” Adam shrugs.

“Your mom asks you if you’ve eaten?”

“Well…”

“His mother usually asks if he’s found a nice girl yet, then she asks if he’s getting enough to eat because he looks thin,” Shiro supplies helpfully. “And she usually does it in a vaguely threatening manner, because Mrs. Wasan has zero chill.”

“Hey, last time she called, she did ask how my ‘friend’ was doing and skipped the girl question, so this is progress.”

“Oh, can we make a shirt that says ‘World’s okayest ‘friend’’, ‘cuz I think there’s a market for that!” Shiro looks thrilled at the concept.

“I’d definitely buy that shirt,” Lance offers, because he would. “I mean, it’s so versatile.”

“Right?!?”

“Well, when you get kicked out for sassing Iverson one-too-many times, at least you’ve got a back up career figured out,” Adam mutters, squinting as the sunlight gleams off of the road ahead.

Keith hums thoughtfully and starts playing with his seatbelt, tugging it loose and letting it snap back again. After a second, he looks at Lance. “So what’s the weirdest weather thing you’ve ever seen? Like, ya’ll have weird weather on islands, right?”

It’s possibly the most out-of-nowhere question Lance has ever heard, but it’s a good one. He considers for a second. “Waterspouts. They’re kinda like tornados. Just a funnel of water rising up into the air in total silence. I always thought they looked like the start of an alien invasion.”

“Huh.” Keith looks genuinely satisfied with this answer.

“How about you?”

“Haboob.”

“Um, what?” 

From the front, he hears Adam snicker and Shiro whispers “you just had to teach him that word.”

Keith lets the seatbelt snap back again. “Dust storm. Looks like a straight up wall of dust just rollin’ across the horizon. Turns the whole sky red and dark. ‘S incredible.”

Now it’s Lance’s turn to go “Huh.” After a moment, he looks up towards the front. “How about you guys?”

“I’ll go with a haboob as well. I’ve never seen anything quite like that before,” Adam offers.

Shiro hums for a moment. “Um…I think I’ll go with tsunamis. There was one when I was around five or six, before we left for the States. It was unreal. Not like they show in movies either, there’s no wall of water. It’s more like, one moment there’s no water, and then suddenly water is everywhere and it rises so fast . Just out of nowhere.”

“Again with the water,” Keith scoffs. 

Shiro twists back in his seat to flick him on the forehead. Keith tries to bite him and fails. 

“Keith, stop biting people! Jesus!” He flicks the boy again. Keith snaps his teeth again.

Lance decides to ignore them. “What kind of word is ‘haboob’ anyway?”

“It’s Arabic,” Adam apparently has the same strategy. “It’s a good word, right?”

“I guess. You speak Arabic?”

“Some, but that word is one I learned as a cadet. I’ve been meaning to get fluent in it though. It sounds like fun.”

Shiro and Keith have finally stopped their loop of flicking and snapping and Shiro climbs back into his seat. “What’s fun?”

“Learning Arabic.”

“Well, it beats why you learned Russian.”

Lance blinks. “Why’d you learn Russian? And how many languages do you even speak?”

“It’s nice to have a language that sounds vaguely threatening at all times.” Adam grins. “And I speak five fluently, if we count English, which we should, because it is not an easy language.”

“So…what’re the other three?”

“Well, my mother’s family speaks Urdu and Hindi and she wanted us to be able to talk to them, and then my dad was stationed in Japan for most of my childhood, so I learned Japanese too.”

Shiro sighs ruefully. “And he’s been using it to torment me ever since.”

“Oh, you love it, don’t lie.”

“Okay, please don’t start flirting now, it’s so gross!” Keith kicks the back of the driver’s seat again. “Seriously.”

“Keith, I swear, you kick my seat again and you are walking home! Lance, fair’s fair, how many languages do you speak?”

“Just two.”

Shiro twists around again and holds out a hand for a high-five. “Hey, same!”

Keith sighs. “Don’t high-five him, he’s a dork and you’ll only encourage him.”

Lance makes deliberate eye-contact with Keith and high-fives Shiro. The man grins widely and turns back to face forward. Keith groans in disgust and tilts his head back to stare at the ceiling.

“So,” Lance says after a beat. “How about you?”

It takes a moment for Keith to realize he’s being talked to. “Huh?”

“How many languages do you speak?”

“Oh. Um, English and Japanese. But I c’n also hold a basic conversation in Hindi because Adam’s a pretty good teacher.”

“Aw, thanks, fetus.” 

Keith flips off the rear-view mirror. Then he gives Lance a sly grin. “También hablo algo de español, que probablemente fue el único beneficio de asistir a escuelas públicas cuando era niño.”

Lance stares .

Keith grins smugly, then kicks the back of the seat again. “Hey, Adam, are we there yet?”

“I’ll stop the car and you can walk if you think that’ll be faster!”

Chapter Text

They end up in the desert, far enough out that the lights from the town are just barely visible on the horizon. As soon as the cars have stopped and everyone’s spilled out in a semi-organized way, Matt and Pidge start pulling out drones while the adults (and “adults adjacents”, as Keith refers to them) begin pulling out camping chairs. Hunk immediately gravitates to the drones, and soon all three of them are deep in a conversation over calibrations and thrusters and other technobabble that goes over Lance’s head. 

He drags the toe of one shoe through the dry dirt and tries hard not to pout. It’s been nice to spend time with everyone, but his heart’s just not in it anymore. He misses his home, and watching the others interacting just makes him feel more isolated. Hunk and Pidge are brilliant and he doesn’t stand a chance in hell of keeping up with them, and Keith, Shiro, and Adam are so clearly close and he feels a little like an intruder there.

“Hey, you wanna see somethin’ cool?”

Lance doesn’t, he just wants to go home. But Keith’s got pretty eyes and an almost shy expression on his face, and Lance is weak .

“Do we have to hike?”

“‘S more of a walk, but yeah, a bit.”

Lance squints suspiciously. “I feel like you’re trying to lure me into the desert so you can murder me.”

Keith snorts. “C’mon then.”

They start walking west, towards the setting sun. They pass Shiro, who raises an eyebrow questioningly.

“Goin’ for a walk.”

“Be back before dark, I’m really not in the mood to go running around looking for you.”

The teenager rolls his eyes and starts walking again. Then Shiro says something else in Japanese in a too-cheerful tone of voice and Keith groans, grabs Lance’s arm and starts dragging him along, muttering “come on.”

Lance is way too distracted by the sudden contact to comment, but he thinks that Keith might be blushing. It’s really hot out here though, so he can’t be sure that it’s not just that and anyway, why would he be blushing? He’s so busy trying to puzzle that out and trying not to freak out about how Keith’s still holding his arm that he nearly trips over a rock. 

“Careful,” Keith says, steadying him. “They’ll kill me if I bring you back all concussed.”

“Thanks.”

Keith hums in acknowledgement and lets go. Lance almost misses the contact. Almost.

They keep walking, and about half an hour into it, Lance clears his throat. He’s not sure what to say, but he’s feeling the silence like an oppressive weight.

“So, uh, you speak Spanish?”

“Some.”

Oh good, it’s gonna be one of those conversations. 

“I mean, your accent was atrocious , but still. How’d you learn that?”

“Told ya, learned it in school.”

“Like in a class, or?”

Keith huffs, finally giving in. “I mostly lived in Texas growin’ up, more’n half the kids in my schools spoke Spanish. The, uh, places I lived, some of the kids there spoke it too. So I jus’ sorta picked it up.”

“That makes sense.” Lance considers the new conversation options. “How does one ‘mostly’ live somewhere?”

“I moved around a lot, before I got into the Garrison.” He must sense Lance’s curiosity, because he staves off further questions by saying, “Tell me about the ocean.”

Lance shrugs. “I mean, what do you want to know?”

“What’s it like?”

Once he gets going, it turns out that Lance can say quite a lot about the ocean. He starts with describing how he and his siblings spent every spare moment playing in it, how he learned to swim and surf, and then he tries to explain how peaceful it can be, and then he just starts sharing all of his favorite facts about the oceans and the animals that live there. He talks for a solid forty-five minutes before he starts to feel winded as their path slopes upward. 

“Where are we going, exactly?”

“Nearly there,” Keith nods ahead. “Just over the slope and then we gotta climb some rocks. So why aren’t you home right now? Like, that sounds pretty nice compared to the desert. Why’d you stay?”

“My brother is getting married, and since flights are expensive, my parents asked if I could stay here this summer.” Lance feels like this is worth his own invasive question. “Why don’t you ever go home for breaks?”

Keith’s reached the top of the hill and is already scaling the rocks, but he pauses to look down at Lance, frowning a little. “My family lives here , so…”

“ Oh. I, uh, guess I assumed…it’s just, you never talk about your parents or anything, so…”

He can’t seem to find a way to dig himself out of this particular hole, so instead he starts scrambling up the rocks. Keith’s at the top already, and he sits down and lets his legs dangle over while he watches.

“Never knew my mom,” he says after a moment, either trying to kill Lance with embarrassment or to just put him out of his misery by startling him into falling. “My dad died when I was really young. Surprisingly, I don’t like to talk about them very much.”

Lance gulps, nearly loses his grip, and plasters his body tightly against the rock. “Sorry.”

A moment later, Keith offers a hand to help pull him up. “You’re real bad at climbin’, you know that?”

“I’m great at trees.” Lance lays down flat and takes some deep breaths. “You should see me climb those trees in the quad.”

Keith snorts but mercifully leaves him to recover from the climb and the sheer embarrassment of having brought up apparently dead parents.  Lance closes his eyes and relaxes a little, soaking up the heat from the rocks underneath. It’s absolutely silent out here, just whistling wind and the sound of his own breath.

He’s almost dozing off when Keith nudges him gently. “Alright, sit up before you miss it.”

Lance frowns but does as he’s told. “Miss what?”

In reply, Keith points towards the valley stretching below them. 

“Okay, very nice, I mean, I love a good view as much as the…”

The setting sun hits a new angle, and suddenly the valley is shimmering and glittering and absolutely stunning. The heat rising from the ground sends ripples through the air, giving the whole valley the appearance of movement. It looks like the ocean.

“Whoah.”

“I know it’s not as good as, y’know, a beach, or whatever,” Keith says after a moment. “But—”

“This is incredible! I mean, it’s just… wow. ”

Keith looks relieved and he leans back on his hands and looks out at the valley. 

“What is this place?” Lance breathes, suddenly afraid he’s going to ruin the moment. “How is that happening?”

“‘S trinitite.”

Well, the moment isn’t exactly ruined, per se, but it is definitely not quite as magical as it had been. 

“I’m sorry, did you just say that the shiny stuff down there is radioactive glass?!? ”

“Yeah…”

Lance tears his eyes away from the astounding(ly deadly) scene below to stare. “Are we going to die?”

“Doubtful. We’re pretty far away and the wind ain’t blowing from there. Should be fine as long as we don’t stay for too long.”

“It’s not…from the bomb, is it?”

Keith hums thoughtfully. “Prolly not. They cleaned most of that up. But there was a base out here, back during the third world war, and, well…” he gestures towards the desert of glass below them. 

“Huh.”

They sit in silence and watch as the light catches and refracts off of the shards of greenish glass in a dead desert on the site of a nuclear holocaust that took place more than a hundred years ago. The dying light and the heat create illusionary waves on an ocean of glass. Neither boy moves until the light finally fades and the valley below turns back into dirt and rocks and fused sand.

Chapter Text

The walk back is much cooler, with the dusk ushering in some relief from the sun. 

“So,’ Lance says after a few minutes, because he’s a glutton for punishment. “Why aren’t you with your family right now? Do they not do celebrations or something?”

Keith stops walking to stare at him in open confusion. “You literally just spent two hours in a car with my brother, Lance.”

“Wait, what?”

The other boy scoffs and starts walking again.

“But,” Lance sputters and jogs so that he can get in front of Keith and stare at him. “But—”

Keith shoulders past him. “C’mon, keep walkin’ while you think.”

“You guys have different last names!” It’s not exactly the most intelligent thing he’s ever said, but hey, that seems to be the norm in all Keith-related conversations.

“Yes.”

“Oh my God, is that how you got into the Garrison? Because your brother is Takashi Shirogane?”

The other boy lets out a sharp huff, scowling at the ground as he walks. “Fuck off, Lance.”

“So you’re telling me that you and Shiro being related has nothing to do with anything?”

“This is why I don’t want anyone to know!” Keith’s eyes flash with anger as he glares at Lance. “No, it does not have anything to do with my being accepted. But apparently that’s a better explanation for it than anything else, because Lord forbid that I could just get in on my own!”

“I—”

“And when people find out that I know Shiro, they act like they wanna be friends, because they think that way they can get on his good side, or whatever! Only that doesn’t work, and then they get all upset about it and say that I cheated or that it’s favoritism that got me in!”

“Um…”

“Even you think that I’m here because of him! And I thought that we were—” Keith stops and takes a deep breath. “Look. I know what people think, okay? So that’s why I don’t go around telling people. And I would… really appreciate it if you didn’t go around sharing that information.”

Lance blinks as his brain finally catches up to his mouth. “Uh, I won’t. And, I know that I’m saying this a lot, but I’m sorry. For implying that you couldn’t get in on your own.” 

Keith glares at him for a moment, then starts walking again. “Whatever, Lance. Come on.”

Lance knows he should really reconsider upsetting Keith Kogane while they’re alone in the middle of nowhere like this. But it’s so easy to assign importance to this discovery, to say that Keith’s only here because of nepotism. However, as much as Lance hates to admit it, anyone with eyes can see that Keith’s got serious talent and that the Garrison would be insane not to accept him. He should probably say that, but he can’t figure out how to do it. So instead he asks another question.

“So did he teach you how to fly?”

Keith sighs again, but seems to realize that Lance isn’t going to just disappear. “Yeah, some.”

“Just some?”

“I’m a good pilot.” He shrugs. Maybe Lance is getting better at reading him too, because it’s not Keith being conceited, he’s just stating a fact. And Lance…can respect that.

It’s dark when they get back, and Lance is surprised when there’s no lecture. Shiro looks like he’s about to say something, but he seems to sense that something’s up and doesn’t. Lance gives him a weak smile and heads over to see what Hunk is up to. From behind him, he can hear Shiro ask a question softly and Keith mutter a reply. 

Over by the drones, Matt is explaining his plans for the evening. “So basically we’re using the projection features combined with some handy lights that Pidge and I found at the store. Originally, we were looking at doing something that would be visible for a mile, but thanks to an evil government lackey who shall not be named, we’re making do.”

“Oh, you mean Imari wouldn’t let you commit wanton theft on his shift?”

Matt throws a rock in Adam’s direction, missing by a good inch. “Shut up. Anyway! At this point, I’d like to ask you all to kindly silence your phones and turn off all external light sources.”

“What does that even mean? ” Shiro comes over and drapes an arm around his boyfriend's shoulders. “Like, ‘external’ suggests that some of us are capable of creating light inside ourselves. Which is poetic and also makes no sense.”

“Dude, shut up!” Matt throws another rock and manages to bounce it off of Shiro’s chest.

The man honest-to-God pouts and rubs his chest pathetically. Adam pats him on the arm consolingly. 

“As I was saying,” Matt continues, rolling his eyes at the display. “No flash photography or cellphones are allowed. And please, hold your applause until the end of the show.”

This seems to be the signal for everyone to scramble to find a seat, and Lance ends up on his butt in the dust when Hunk, of all the traitors, shoves him out of the way so he can sit in the camp chair. That leaves four chairs, and the Holt parents claim two before anyone seems to notice. Keith dives into the third, and, after several seconds of shoving and some very underhanded tactics (apparently Adam is ticklish and Shiro’s not above using that knowledge), Shiro ends up in the last chair with his legs pulled up so no one can sit on him.

Lance debates his options, but he’s not really in the mood to sit on anyone’s lap, so he just makes the best of it and leans back against Hunk’s legs. Pidge stomps over to Keith imperiously and proceeds to sit on top of him while ignoring his protests. Adam gives up trying to get the chair from Shiro and instead steals the other man’s jacket and uses it as an impromptu cushion, leaning back and putting as much weight as possible against the camping chair and nearly overbalancing it until Shiro is forced to sit up and put his feet down. Matt starts his program.

It’s an impressive display, but Lance finds his mind drifting after a few moments. He’s replaying the past few months, reframing some of the interactions he’s witnessed between Keith and the two pilots. It makes some sort of sense now, why Keith was getting extra attention from Shiro, only instead of favoritism, it’s just been Keith hanging out with his older brother. It also explains both how Adam had known that Keith was passing English Lit and the glee he’d seemed to take in volunteering Keith to tutor Lance. It certainly explains why Keith had been so relaxed and familiar that day in the sim lab, because he’d been doing something he’d loved with his family. 

His eyes drift over to the other boy, who’s shifted so that Pidge can sit comfortably on top of him, resting his chin on her shoulder to look up at the sky. He’s got a thoughtful look on his face, watching the display with the same intensity he applies to flight sims. After a moment, he seems to feel Lance’s gaze and glances over at him. He gives Lance a flat stare, clearly still hurt by their earlier conversation. Lance tries to convey his continued apology via eye contact. Keith doesn’t seem impressed and turns his head back to the sky.

Chapter Text

They decide to go grocery shopping after the light show, because the summer means that Keith’s sleep schedule is beyond fucked up, Adam’s turned to a semi-nocturnal life to avoid the heat, and Shiro’s reliving his student days while he finishes his Doctorate…and, y’know, he’s also stressing about the whole “how to propose thing”. 

There’s been a running joke between Shiro and Adam since long before they started dating—whenever one of them feels like being particularly dramatic over something the other did, they either propose or break up. (In retrospect, there’s probably a reason why their friends were all so confused when they announced that they’d started dating.) When fifteen-year-old Shiro had made corny dad jokes for the entire afternoon during a group study session, Adam had groaned loudly and declared that he was leaving Shiro for someone who didn’t think that “Hi hungry, I’m Shiro” was funny. When sixteen-year-old Adam had decided to break into the cafeteria over winter break and made some of the best mac ‘n cheese ever , Shiro had been happy to declare his undying love and offered to marry him on the spot. And, because it’s been a running joke since they were kids, the other party always rolls their eyes or scoffs or, depending on who’s watching, reacts with equal drama.

Unfortunately, this means that Shiro actually has no idea how to go about actually proposing. 

Which is why, having dated for over four years, he’s managed to very effectively avoid that conversation entirely. Well, mostly. They’ve had plenty of conversations about their plans for their careers, they’ve talked about whether or not they want kids (the unanimous decision, post-Keith, was that that could wait until he was at least the same age they are now), they’ve even talked about what sort of weddings they could imagine having. But he’s always skirted around the proposing bit. And either Adam’s just as much at a loss as he is, or he’s waiting for Shiro, and he’s honestly not sure which would be better at this point. He knows that he wants to spend the rest of his life with the man, but he’s not sure on how to actually ask him for that. Never let it be said that Shiro is anything less than a true disaster of a human being.

He’s been mulling over this for weeks now, and he’s still coming to the same conclusions: A, he’d very much like to marry Adam, and B, he’s not sure how to even put that into words. It’s been on a loop in his head for days, and he knows that he’s definitely being a little more quiet and cranky than usual because of this, given the way that Keith’s been slinking around like a skittish cat and the many concerned and slightly aggravated looks Adam’s been giving him. The only reason this tension isn’t in full force tonight is because Adam’s too busy trying to get Keith to talk about whatever went down with Lance, and Keith’s too busy telling him to fuck off. 

The midnight shopping excursions have become a long-standing tradition, brought about by a toxic combination of three-years-ago Shiro and Adam becoming technical parents while barely in their twenties and still on college student sleep schedules and a much younger Keith’s repeated night-terrors that kept them all awake at so-late-it’s-early hours. By this point, they’re able to do this like it’s a choreographed dance: Adam grabs the cart and the list, Shiro retrieves the items from the shelves, and Keith sort of drifts in a three aisle radius and alternates between helping grab things and trying to slip unnecessary items into the cart. 

They’ve made it through the fresh produce section, Keith’s disappeared with a mumbled complaint about cereal, and Adam stops the cart abruptly to stare at the list, holding it at arm’s length like the distance will make sense of whatever’s scribbled on it, his glasses sliding down his nose and his face scrunched up in confusion. And Shiro’s struck by how perfect he is and how much he wants to just do this sort of mundane stuff with him forever. 

“We should get married.”

Adam wrinkles his nose in a hands-free attempt to get his glasses to stop sliding. “Did you write ‘kielbasa’ with three different spellings on here and then just cross them out and put ‘Polish sausage’?”

“Adam.”

“What?” 

“Will you marry me?”

His boyfriend looks up from the list to give him an exasperated glare, but Shiro’s expression must be conveying all of that imagined future, because he stops and shoves his glasses back into place with a look of incredulity.

“Are you seriously proposing to me in the middle of a Walmart?”

Shiro isn’t sure if this is a good sign or not. “I just…I want to keep doing this forever. With you. Like, just, I want this .”

“‘What—”

“I mean, I want to do this . Like, the ordinary stuff. I want to argue over how to spell kielbasa and go shopping at midnight because we can’t sleep like normal people and fight over who has to put the cart away at the end of the trip. And I want to wake up in the morning next to you and then complain about how tired we are while we race to get ready for work because neither of us ever sets an alarm. I want to do that with you. Like, forever.”

Shiro knows he’s blushing as this all comes spilling out in a semi-coherent rush, and he sincerely hopes that Keith stays somewhere else while he finishes this trainwreck of a proposal. On the other side of the cart, Adam’s going through several different expressions in a quick succession, most of which Shiro’s familiar with from the many times he’s managed to infuriate his boyfriend. He holds his breath, waiting.

Finally, Adam’s expression settles on a sort of fond, if exasperated, smile. “Oh my God, you are such a sap. Is that what you’ve been worrying over for the last few weeks?”

“Um…” This really isn’t the turn he’d been hoping for…or dreading, for that matter. What does it mean when the person you’re proposing to calls you a sap?

“It is! Oh my God. You’ve been working out how to propose this whole time and this is where you chose to do it?” Adam’s laughing now, but not meanly. Shiro would even risk calling it a delighted laugh. “You really are something, Takashi Shirogane.”

Shiro hazards a sheepish smile. “Thanks?”

“I’d hope that we’d eventually reach a point where we set alarms. I mean, that’s growth, or something.” He comes around the cart to stand in front of Shiro. “And honestly, we’re going to eventually get too old to do all that early-morning rushing.”

“So…”

“Yes, you ridiculous man, I will marry you!”

Shiro manages to keep from saying anything too stupid and instead steps forward and kisses him. Adam’s lips curve into a smile against his, and then he’s kissing back and it’s a breathless, giddy thing.

Someone clears their throat from behind Shiro, and they break apart reluctantly.

“Ya’ll are gross.” Keith looks disapprovingly at them, slowly chewing on something. His hands are full of cereal boxes.

Based on how hot his cheeks are, Shiro’s face is definitely beet red, but he’s so happy that he really can’t bring himself to be too embarrassed. Adam grins at Shiro for a second before clearing his throat and moving to start pushing the cart again.

Keith narrows his eyes suspiciously. “What’s goin’ on?”

“What are you eating?” Adam asks back, apparently content to let Shiro handle the flustered act on his own. 

“Got hungry.” 

It’s a very Keith answer, totally defiant and noncommittal in a way that makes adults start clenching their jaws on pure instinct. Even after years, Shiro still has to bite back the urge to scold the kid. 

Adam eyes the boxes he’s holding. “We’re not buying ten boxes of Marshmallow Mateys. You can keep one of them and the open box, put the rest back.”

“Answer the question first.” Keith has his stubborn face on.

“Shiro decided that the frozen dinner aisle was a good place to propose.”

The teen looks judgmentally from one of them to the other. “And you said yes? Seriously?”

Shiro sputters. “Hey!”

“It was very sweet, really.” Adam shrugs. “And planning isn’t his forte, we both know that.”

“Hey!”

They both ignore him. Keith’s face goes from judgy to slightly miffed.

“Dangit Shiro, you couldn’t’ve waited another week? I was gonna win big!”

Adam cackles at the look of horror on Shiro’s face and starts pulling the cereal boxes out of Keith’s arms to put them on a nearby shelf. “How much did you lose?”

“Woulda made over three hundred!” Keith shakes his head in frustration and stuffs his now-free hand into the open cereal box, pulling out a handful of sugary breakfast cereal and shoving it into his mouth irritably. 

“I’m sorry, but you mean to tell me that you had a bet about how long it’d be before I proposed?” Shiro’s not sure if he’s more embarrassed or horrified by this.

“Takashi, half of our class has had a pool going since graduation.” Adam snatches the box Keith’s been eating out of and grabs a handful of cereal for himself before setting it in the cart. “Last I heard, the pot was sitting at around nine hundred. Zhao and Isaacs have been making bets even longer than that, which I know because they like to ‘casually’ ask me about it on a monthly basis ever since the start of Senior year.”

Shiro’s definitely going to be having words with his traitorous flight team about betting on his romantic life. “What the fuck.”

“Language,” Keith scolds gleefully. “No need to curse.”

“Okay, but you could’ve just proposed.” Shiro looks at his fiance with more than a little exasperation.

Adam shrugs and grins endearingly. “Yeah, but I knew you’d do a much better job of it than I would.”

And man, it’s hard to stay annoyed when he’s got that look on his face.

Chapter Text

Somehow, Lance hasn’t considered the fact that he’s going to be spending his birthday here in Arizona, hundreds of miles away from his family. He’s never been away from home for his birthday before. Birthdays are a huge deal in his family, the entire extended family comes, there’s food and music, and, most importantly, he gets to spend the whole day as the center of his parents’ attention. As one of five kids, it’s always a competition to get attention, so his parents have always made birthdays a day where the birthday kid gets to spend extra time with them. It’s one of Lance’s favorite things, and the fact that he’s missing it this year hits like a freight truck all at once as he’s sitting at the table eating a late breakfast in the mess hall.

Hunk and Pidge are in class, so they don’t get to witness him trying to keep it together while he disposes of his tray, and they miss seeing him rush out of the building and into the blazing summer heat while blinking back tears.

He doesn’t want anyone to see him having a mental breakdown, but he’s already crying by the time he makes it to the nearest bench and collapses down on it. Lance has always been a bit of a cryer, it’s not something he’s ashamed of, but it’s so inconvenient sometimes and it is so embarrassing to start bawling in public every time he’s upset. At least, he tells himself, there’s no students out here to see him sobbing like a baby this time. 

The only noise out here today, aside from the occasional jet rumbling overhead and the rustle of the leaves in the tree above him, is his crying. It’s cathartic. 

Suddenly, a few green leaves come floating down to land on his head and lap and a twig cracks above him.

“Um…” Someone clears their throat from in the tree.

Lance jumps and starts trying to stop his sobbing and scrub the tears from his face. It’s a bit of a lost cause, so he glares tearfully up at the person peering down from between the branches.

“What the fuck do you want?”

Keith looks equally alarmed and uncomfortable from above him. “Are…you okay?”

“What,” Lance chokes out between now furious sobbing breaths. “Do you think?”

“I mean…” The other boy hesitates, brows furrowing. “Like…are you, um, are you hurt?”

“No.”

“Oh,” Keith’s expression is embarrassed and concerned all at the same time. “Do…um, do you want to, like, come up here? No one can see you from the ground then.”

Lance wants to disappear, he wants to sink into the earth, he wants to cry until his eyes are burning and dry, he wants to scream. He…doesn’t want to be alone. And in all the years he and Keith have been orbiting each other, Keith’s never been one to use something like this against anyone. So he nods and quickly climbs the tree, still crying a little. Keith watches him with concern writ large across his face and a hand out like he’s waiting to catch Lance if he falls. 

This particular tree is an ancient and twisted old oak that seems miraculous in the Arizona desert. Its branches are thick enough to sit on comfortably and they’re gnarled and bent in a way that makes for excellent seats and backrests. Lance quickly finds a nice spot in a crook between one branch and the trunk and settles against it, feet propped up against the branch directly across from him and knees pulled up to his chest. Keith’s sitting on the branch above him, a book held firmly in one hand. 

“I, uh, guess you weren’t kiddin’ when you said you could climb trees better’n rocks.” He looks vaguely impressed, if a little uncomfortable with the fact that Lance is crying. 

That’s the last thing he says, going back to his book and letting Lance finish crying in peace. He can definitely hear the crying, but he’s engrossed with the book and doesn’t even acknowledge Lance again until his breathing has settled down and the tears are finally drying on his cheeks.

Eventually, he glances down, still looking uncomfortable, and holds out a tissue. Lance chokes out a small laugh and takes it. Keith goes back to his book again and Lance starts breathing slowly, leaning back into the tree and feeling the tension leave him. It’s very hot, but Lance is feeling drained and chilled after sobbing like a child. The heat is soothing to him.

After a while, he starts feeling the embarrassment creeping in because he just had a breakdown in front of his rival. He clears his throat. “What’re you reading?”

Keith hums and shuts the book, holding it so Lance can read the cover. “‘S old, but pretty good.”

Lance recognizes the title, he’d read the series back in middle school, enjoying the fantasy stories that featured anthropomorphic animals and medieval imagery. He’s a little surprised that Keith’s reading it, it definitely doesn’t go with his whole “bad boy” vibe. “Have you read it before?”

“Nah,” He pulls out a piece of paper and slides it in as a bookmark, then swings himself down to sit on the branch Lance is resting his feet on. He puts his feet next to Lance so their knees are bumping against each other. “Started the series this summer for somethin’ t’ do. You know it?”

Lance realizes that he’s got his hair pulled up into a stubby ponytail today, and that…is definitely something. Keith offers Lance the book. Lance takes it, flustered. There are two bookmarks in the book, and he flips to the first. It’s a sticky note (of course), with cartoon cats on it and a message that reads Don’t lose my spot in that cursive he’s seen on earlier notes. The bookmark Keith had just inserted is about fifty pages further in, a Godzilla-themed paper with Have a good day kiddo! written on it in neat print and a doodle of a U.F.O. on the back. 

Lance cocks his head. “Where do you find these sticky notes? I’ve never seen anything like them in stores.”

“Shiro’s got some cousins back in Japan, they send us novelty stationery sometimes. And it’s kinda a game, so we’re always lookin’ for good sticky notes.” Keith smiles, a little embarrassed. “‘S a whole thing now.”

“You guys are really close,” Lance observes, realizing as he says it that he’s probably entering into his usual accidental-asshole territory. But, well, he’s still feeling raw and hurting and he wants to feel something, anything, as long as it isn’t that.

Keith shrugs. “I guess. I, uh, I don’t really have anyone else. Still don’t know why he decided t’ keep me around, definitely don’t know why Adam didn’t bail when he brought me home, but…”

“Wait, ‘brought you home’?” Yep, accidental-asshole territory, here we come.

“Told ya, I met him when I stole his car.”

Technically, he’d left out the part where that’s how he’d met Shiro, but still. At least this is an answer as to why the pair have different last names. 

“Actually,” Lance says slowly, consideringly. “That kinda makes sense. Like, based on what I know about you, that sounds exactly like how you’d get adopted—stealing someone’s car.”

Apparently, he’s said the right thing, because Keith gives him that wonderful, alive grin. That does the trick, because he’s no longer feeling raw, now he’s feeling the fluttering in his stomach that he’s starting to associate with that smile. 

“Well, I stole it and then I took it on a joy-ride across state lines. And I crashed it.”

And, okay, Lance is a little terrified of twelve-year-old Keith, who was apparently an accomplished car-thief in addition to being a vicious brawler who took on three boys by himself and won. “You crashed it?”

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t tall enough to really use the brakes.” Keith shrugs. “Anyway, he decided to, I dunno, make sure I didn’t do anythin’ too dumb. Helped me get into the Garrison, helped me out when I needed it. Decided that he wanted to have me hangin’ around for some reason.”

There’s something in his eyes there, something sad and bruised and lonely. He’s curled in on himself a little, lost in memory as he says this. Lance hates it, he hates whoever and whatever caused it. Keith should be smiling and alive and full of energy, he should never look hurt and small.

He knocks his knee against Keith’s. “If you ever find any good lion-themed sticky notes, can you let me have them? I want to cover my sister’s desk in them as a reminder that she’s never safe from sibling pranks.”

Keith’s eyes refocus and he relaxes again, expression clearing. “Sure.”

Lance smiles and leans forward to hand the book back. “Great.”

They fall into silence again, Keith running a thumb over the pages of the book and staring at nothing and Lance closing his eyes and feeling every bit of his almost-sixteen years weighing down on him all at once. 

“So,” Keith says after a moment. “You want to talk about it?” 

Lance almost laughs, because Keith looks so fucking uncomfortable while he asks this. But it’s touching at the same time, because it’s just so obvious that Keith’s entirely out of his element but he’s trying anyway. And he doesn’t want to talk about it, but he also feels like he owes something for this.

“It’s just…My birthday’s in two weeks, and, um, I’ve never not been at home for that before.”

“Oh.”

“And I know that it’s not really a big deal, but…”

“But you’re still sad.” Keith looks genuinely sympathetic. “ And it is a big deal. That sucks. Birthdays without family suck.”

He says it with the conviction of a person who knows about birthdays without families. Never knew my mom…my dad died when I was real young. Lance supposes that he does.

“Yeah.” He’s all cried out and too drained to argue. “I mean, I know my sister’ll try to make it up to me and Hunk’s gonna surprise me with a cake. But it’s not the same.”

Keith hums in agreement and uses his thumb to flip the page corners so they rustle like the breeze. “What do you normally do?”

Lance doesn’t want to talk about it and apparently this reluctance shows on his face clearly enough that even Keith gets it.

“Sorry.” Keith cocks his head and looks thoughtful for a moment, then nods like he’s decided on something. “You want me to distract you or you wanna jus’ sit here ‘n listen to the wind and the jets? No pressure.”

“What kind of distraction?”
The other boy shrugs. “I c’n either talk about somethin’ dumb, or I c’n show ya somethin’ cool.”

“Is it alive?” He’s still feeling a little traumatized by the lizard incident.

Keith snorts and knocks his knee against Lance’s a little too forcefully. “ No. ”

“Ow. Do I…have to hike?”

“Nah, it’s here on campus.” 

And Lance hasn’t learned his lesson yet, because he shrugs and says “fine” and follows the other boy out of the tree. They head across the quad, towards the admin buildings. Keith leads him down several hallways, up a flight of stairs, past a faculty lounge where he stops just long enough to detour in and steal a tupperware container from the fridge, and then down another hall and deep into the offices. They pass several offices with closed doors, a few with open doors and officers or faculty who are too busy working to notice them, and Lance is wondering if they’ve turned invisible somehow when someone calls Keith’s name.

Keith gives the very suspicious officer a cocky salute. “Sir!”

“Yeah…you know that it’s actually more suspicious when you act like you have respect for me, right?” The name tape announces that this would be Second Lieutenant Imari, who eyes them both like he suspects that they’ve already committed a crime. “Shiro’s not here and Wasan’s in a meeting, so there is literally no reason for you to be wandering around here.”

“‘S a free country.” Keith shrugs. “This is a public building. And anyway, we’re just on our way to the enrollment office to pick up our schedules for the next semester.”

The man raises an eyebrow and Lance cringes, because all three of them know that the enrollment office is on the first floor, not the fifth. 

“I’ll give you these brownies if you pretend you didn’t see us.” Keith holds up the tupperware. 

“Seriously? What is with people around here and trying to bribe me? Do I look that corrupt?”

In response, Keith just shakes the container enticingly. Lance is beginning to think that Keith’s friendly with all of the younger officers here. He wonders if he was planning on this confrontation all along or if this is a spur of the moment bribe attempt. 

Imari sighs. “Just…please do not get caught doing anything illegal, please? I really need to not have to explain to Shiro how his kid got expelled for doing something dumb while I was eating his stolen brownies.” 

Keith smirks and hands over the brownies and Lance sees a neon pink sticky note declaring SHIRO’S DO NOT TOUCH on the lid. The officer gives Lance a warning glare and then turns and starts back down the hallway.

“What was that? ” Lance stares at the retreating figure with equal parts confusion and respect (he’d definitely have done the same for a good brownie). 

“C’mon. He’s a friend of theirs, and he’s always like that. But he also doesn’t actually care what we do as long as we don’t actually break laws or anythin’.” Keith grabs his wrist and starts pulling him along. It has the same effect it did last time—Lance’s brain turns off. 

So here’s the thing: Lance has suspected for a little while now that he’s probably not as straight as he’d thought. Like, yes, girls are awesome and he’s very interested in all the things that go with liking girls, but. But he’s also spent a lot of time admiring some of his male classmates’ physiques in a very… unplatonic way. And, even more recently, he’s spent an unreasonable amount of time thinking about Keith’s (fucking gorgeous) eyes, and his incredible smile and…and based on how his brain can’t seem to focus on anything beyond the way Keith’s hand feels, he might be, possibly, maybe a little gay for Keith. Maybe.

Lance goes to pull his arm free, but his traitor brain has other ideas: he does wriggle free, but then he immediately grabs Keith’s hand so that they are fucking holding hands and oh. My. God. He is an idiot. A very bi idiot.

But here’s the other thing: Keith doesn’t pull away. He does glance down at their hands, looks up at Lance’s face with an expression that can only be described as unreadable, then tightens his grip a little and continues pulling Lance along like nothing has changed. Maybe for him, nothing has changed. 

Lance is so preoccupied with this line of thought and with the feeling of Keith’s hand in his that he loses track of where they are until Keith comes to an abrupt halt. They’re in a dead-end hallway standing in front of a bank of filing cabinets and a supply closet door. 

Keith grins that bright, alive smile and, okay, Lance is possibly more than just a little gay for Keith.

“Mullet, did you drag me up here just to show me a fucking storage closet and some dusty files?” Lance falls back on his old strategy for crushes: pushing buttons until something happens.

“ What is your deal with my hair?” Keith scowls. He’s still holding Lance’s hand.

“What’s your deal with bad hairdos from the late nineteen hundreds?”

Keith growls irritably and steps forward to open the closet, finally dropping Lance’s hand. He doesn’t miss the contact at all, no siree. 

The closet is a basic, nondescript space with some boxes of printer paper, a collection of office supplies in neatly labeled boxes on the shelves, and the general dust and cobwebs associated with underused spaces. Lance does not see what’s so cool about this.

“Um…”

Before he can start in, Keith grabs his hand again and pulls him into the closet, then shuts the door behind them. For a moment, they stand there in total darkness. 

“Sorry,” Keith mutters as he pulls out his phone and turns on the flashlight. “Didn’t think that through.”

He starts shining the light along one of the walls and over the shelves. Then, to Lance’s confusion, he focuses the light on an empty space on the right-hand side of the bottom shelf. 

“Push it down.”

Lance steps forward and, without letting go of the other boy’s hand, he does. He feels it give a little before resisting and he glances over at Keith for clarification. 

“Harder. Sticks a little.” Keith looks amused.

So he pushes hard and suddenly a one foot section of the shelf and one of the brackets fold down and a section of wall, about six feet by one foot shifts inward and opens like a door. 

“Holy crow! It’s a secret passage!!! ” Lance knows he sounds like an idiot, but he’s just totally delighted by this. 

Keith laughs softly and shines his light in to illuminate a dark hallway that trails off into the dark. “After you.”

“This feels like a horror movie set up,” Lance declares as he starts into the dark hallway. 

“Don’t be a baby.”

They start in and Lance quickly wishes that he had brought his own phone, because Keith’s doesn’t provide enough light to see more than about six feet ahead. They walk about fifty feet in and then Keith pulls them to a stop. 

“There’s stairs right up ahead, so go slow, yeah?”

The stairs are similar to what one finds in a fire exit, all steep angles and concrete. Their footsteps echo as they take the twisting steps down further and further until Lance is positive they’re below ground. 

“So,” He pauses for a second to appreciate how his voice bounces off of the walls. “What is this, exactly?”

“As far as we can tell, it’s like an old emergency evac route down to a bunker from the last war. It leads all the way to this really cool, like, auditorium space ‘nd then there’s tunnels leadin’ off in all directions. There’s a whole complex down here, like with office spaces ‘nd shit.”

“Who’s ‘we’? And how do you even know this exists?”

“Me ‘n Adam. He’s, like, a major history nerd, knows how t’ do research and all that jazz. And I’ve spent every summer on campus since I was twelve-years-old. There’s not much to do, and I was told not to leave the base without an adult, so I explored.”

He’s got that “as you do” tone again. Lance wonders if Keith has any actual basis for human interactions. Of course, if he had any social awareness, he’d probably have let Lance’s hand go by now, and that would be…something. Something.

Chapter Text

The world has conspired against Shiro today, because when he grabs some breakfast from the mess and looks for a place to sit, he makes unfortunate eye-contact with Matt and is now required to sit with his best friend…who is currently sitting with Shiro’s flight team and Veronica McClain. Mentally preparing himself for the inevitable tomfuckery he is about to endure, Shiro sighs and moves to sit next to Veronica, across from his three so-called friends. Ana Zhao, his team’s engineer, waves cheerily and Matt grins like he’s won a lottery. Curtis is mostly asleep at the table, cradling a cup of coffee in his hands and staring at it mindlessly while Veronica scoots to the side and offers a welcoming smile before taking a bite of toast. Shiro nods in thanks and sits down quickly, already bracing himself. The universe does not disappoint. 

“Morning. Did you know that these nerds have never seen Terra Nova , arguably the best sci-fi show ever?” Matt gestures with disgust at the table.

Shiro blinks. “Why are you tormenting these innocent souls with an extremely short-lived drama about time travel?”

“My cousin’s been reading Dinotopia , and I was trying to explain the insane plot and then he said ‘oh, I know this one’ annnnnd…” Veronica waves in Matt’s general direction. 

“I still don’t believe that either of these things are real,” Ana adds helpfully “Also, I’ve decided that we’re adopting McClain, because she’s fantastic and we need to let Curtis hang out with more nerds before he gets bored and, like, starts building bombs in his basement or something.”

Curtis blinks sleepily and mumbles something like “don’ hava b’sm’”. 

“It’s an American classic, you heathens!” Matt slams his hands on the table. One of them lands in his bowl of oatmeal and it splatters everywhere.

Shiro manages to get his hands up in time to block several globs of breakfast cereal from hitting his face. Veronica yelps and starts wiping furiously at her oatmeal speckled glasses. Some of it lands in Curtis’s coffee and he makes a sad noise and stares at the cup gloomily. Ana stiffens and focuses on Shiro with a predatory intensity that makes him immediately regret getting out of bed. 

He’s about to point out that the oatmeal is absolutely not his fault when she lunges across the table and grabs his left wrist in an alarmingly strong grip. “What the actual fuck, Shirogane?!?” 

The engineer’s shriek seems to finally wake Curtis up; he jumps and stares at the pair of them with mild concern. Veronica grimaces and leans back to avoid the altercation. Matt cocks his head to the side and leans forward like he’s watching a new sitcom.

“ What? ” Shiro gasps, his eyes bugging out.

She pulls his arm further across the table and inspects his hand closely. “When did this happen?”

“This” is apparently the engagement ring. Ana glares at him like he’s murdered her puppy instead of, y’know, just getting engaged to the love of his life. Matt gasps and squeals. Curtis squints like this is a particularly challenging puzzle and goes to grab his coffee before remembering the oatmeal situation. He leaves the cup and steals some oatmeal-free fruit from Shiro’s plate, looking rather pleased with himself.

“Uh…last week?” Shiro tries to pull his hand back, meets resistance, and continues to lean halfway over the table with his arm twisted awkwardly and his ribs digging into the table.

“Congratulations?” Veronica says, eyeing this scene with obvious confusion.

“Thanks. Um, Ana, can you please let go? My arm is cramping up.”

“Ugh, fine .” She releases his hand in a very aggressive way. “Congrats, asshole.”

Matt flails his hands like an excited Southern belle. “Oh my gosh, congrats! Now, spill. Who proposed? When? How? I want all the details.”

“You’ve got separate bets on all those things, don’t you?” Shiro deadpans.

“He’s got fifty bucks riding on who proposed, I know that one for sure.” Curtis says through a mouthful of stolen fruit. “So please, do share.”

Shiro knew that this was going to happen. He also knows that he will never live it down. “Ummm…”

Suddenly Matt gets the classic Holt predatory look in his eyes as he stares past Shiro and waves frantically. Shiro could probably win a bet on who he’s spotted.

“Hi, Matt.” Adam sounds suspicious (his default tone when dealing with Matt). “And…assorted people. What’s with the oatmeal?”

“Not important! Now please, join us! Your lovely fiance here was just sharing the details of your engagement.”

Adam grins, equally predatory, and Shiro just starts groaning in embarrassment in advance. “Oh, so he was telling you how he proposed in the freezer aisle of a Walmart?”

The flight team cracks up, both of them cackling with glee. Matt slumps and groans out “Shirrroooo” in a mournful tone. Veronica looks like she’s at least trying to keep her laughter from bursting out, and she’s now Shiro’s new best friend since his ex-best friend is dead to him. 

“I want a divorce,” Shiro says, even as he lets his fiance sit down next to him and turns to accept a quick kiss. “You’re actually the worst.”

“According to Keith, a preemptive divorce isn’t actually a thing,” Adam replies sweetly. “Seriously, what’s with the oatmeal?”

Veronica is still fighting to keep a straight face, but her voice is surprisingly steady. “Matt was being passionate. Congratulations, by the way.”
“Thanks. It was actually very romantic, terrible timing aside. He made a beautiful speech and everything.”

Apparently they’re calling Shiro’s verbal vomit a ‘speech’ now, so that’s nice. He finds Adam’s hand under the table and squeezes gently, leaning over to rest his head on his shoulder. Half of the table’s occupants go “aw” while the other half gag. Honestly, Shiro’s friends are worse than the teenagers they teach. 

“Well, I’m five hundred dollars richer, so thanks for that. Congrats, dorks.” Curtis gives them a thumbs up and shovels more fruit into his mouth.

“You better get us a good wedding present with that cash, Imari.”

Ana is still wheezing from laughter. “I’m broke now, so you’re getting a consolatory card with meaningless cliche platitudes from me. I’m so happy for you guys though!”

“Seriously, this is awesome! Congrats on agreeing to be stuck with this idiot for eternity!” Matt grins toothily. “Can I be the flower boy?”

Shiro scowls. “No one who placed bets on my love life is allowed to be a part of the wedding party! McClain, you’re now officially my best friend, these three are dead to me.”

She bursts out laughing, finally losing her fight for composure. Matt fake pouts and starts trying to wipe the oatmeal off of his hand. Ana and Curtis pause briefly in their exchange of cash to give him matching shrugs and unimpressed faces.

“Doesn’t that mean your duckling would be banned from attending as well?” Matt smirks and flicks a glob of oatmeal at the couple. “Kid’s been running a betting pool with my entire family for the past two years!”

Shiro groans and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Please do not do things like telling me that your parents were betting on my relationship!”

“We should probably be grateful that they didn’t try to affect the outcome,” Adam muses, starting in on his own bowl of oatmeal.

Shiro goans harder and slumps forward to rest his head in his hands. “I hate all of you.”

Veronica seems to have settled down again and starts picking at the oatmeal on her glasses. “As your newly appointed best friend, I feel obligated to point out that most of the Garrison’s been betting on your hypothetical nuptials, so it’s only going to get worse from here.”

“Oh, new bet!” Ana’s eyes light up with a special sort of evil glee. “Five bucks says it’ll be a spring wedding!”

Curtis cocks an eyebrow. “If I was them, I’d just go ahead and elope. And also, I’m slightly terrified of working with Shiro when he’s aware that I’m betting on his marriage.”

“As you should be.” Shiro gives both of them a stern look. It works on cadets, but it has no effect on his friends, who give him matching jack o’lantern grins. 

Matt smirks, ever incorrigible. “I’d be more worried that they’ll just never actually get married out of spite.”

“Yeah, that’s not happening. We are getting married.” For some reason, Adam’s glaring at Shiro as he says this. 

Shiro considers his options and then leans forward and kisses the tip of his nose. This earns him a confused, vaguely threatening expression from his fiance and more groans from the peanut gallery. He ignores this and grabs his fork, planning to finally start eating his breakfast…which is no longer there because his asshole friend has eaten all of his fruit.

Chapter Text

“You wanted to see me, sir?” Lance fidgets awkwardly in the office doorway, not sure if he’s supposed to salute or not. School doesn’t start for two more weeks and he’s not in uniform, but Lieutenant Shirogane is. Of course, he’s also sitting cross-legged on the floor in Lieutenant Wasan’s office, so Lance figures this is an informal meeting. 

“Hey! How’s the last few weeks of summer treating you?”

“Um, good? Do you…not have your own office?”

“Oh, I do, but this office is so much more convenient.”

“He just likes sitting in here and taking up space,” Wasan mutters darkly from his desk. 

Shirogane grins beatifically. “Anyway, Lance, I just wanted a quick word with you about next semester. Nothing bad, I swear!”

Lance doesn’t feel reassured. “Okay?”

“Jesus, don’t torture the kid.” 

“Excuse you, this is a private meeting,” Shirogane puts up a hand in time to catch the pen being tossed at his face. He turns back to Lance. “So I know that you’ve been training to be a cargo pilot, which is cool and if that’s what you wanted to do, that’s super awesome—”

“It’s not though!” Lance blurts. “Um, it’s not what I want to do.”

“Cool. Well, as you know, I help out with the flight instruction courses. And this year, we’re looking at expanding a few programs…”

Wasan sighs and throws another pen. “He’s being obnoxious. They’re adding another slot to the fighter pilot track and you’re on the short list. Congratulations!”

Lance blue screens for a few moments.

Lieutenant Shirogane looks a little alarmed at his silence. “Lance, are you okay?”

“Um, it’s just…what does that mean?”

“You’ll be receiving a formal invitation to the fighter track later this week. I just didn’t want you to have to wait to find out.” The man smiles encouragingly. “You’ve more than earned the spot, and honestly, I can’t think of another cadet who’d be better suited to the course.”

Lance feels like panicking. “But…I’m not…”

“Kid, you’re one of the best pilots on the planet, that’s the only reason you’re in the Garrison piloting program at all.” Wasan gives him the unimpressed teacher look. “You’re definitely talented enough.”

Shirogane nods in agreement. “We’ve seen you fly, Lance. You have so much potential!”

Lance manages to stutter out some kind of reply, presumably thanking them for the information and excusing himself. And then he stumbles along the hall while his brain catches up to his body.

It hits him as he approaches the exit—he’s in the fighter pilot program. He is in the fighter pilot program!  

Lance takes off running, because he needs to do something, he has to tell someone. He considers his options, then does an abrupt U-turn to run straight back into the office building and heads for his sister’s office. Because she’s in R&D, Veronica shares her space with a few other officers in the same department. 

He flies around the corner and into the office, nearly colliding with a table and startling the three people sitting there. He vaguely recognizes Lieutenant Imari, who eyes him like he’s a portent of doom. Matt Holt is laying on top of the table, arms stretched out and reaching for a tablet on the other side, he grins at Lance and continues to squirm across the table.

Veronica raises an eyebrow. “You really should not be running in this building.”

Lance is breathless with excitement. “ OhmyGodIgotin!”

“Um, yeah, you got in four years ago, hermano.”

“ No , I mean I got in! ” 

“I’m not following,” Matt says conversationally. Imari hums in agreement and pulls the tablet further away from him. Veronica shoots them a look, and both men grimace apologetically. 

Lance gulps in some air and says with all of the enunciation he can muster. “I just got into the fighter program.”

“¡Caracoles, mija! ¿En serio?”

“Si!”

She squeals in delight and pulls him into a bone-crushing hug. Lance laughs and hugs back, beaming. 

“Hey, congrats man!” Matt cheers from the table. He reaches towards the tablet again and Imari shoves him. Matt rolls off the table with a yelp. 

“That’s great, kid! Just do the opposite of whatever Lieutenant Shirogane does and you’ll be fine!” Imari grins, clearly joking. 

Veronica snorts and releases Lance to look at her coworkers disapprovingly. “Hush. My brother is a brilliant pilot, he is going to be incredible!”

Lance blushes. “ Gracias. ”

“You’re gonna do great!” Matt says from the floor, grabbing for Imari’s ankles and missing as the other man jumps up onto a chair.

“Have you called home yet? They’ll be so excited!” Veronica swats him on the back of the head when he shakes his head. “ Vamos!”

Lance spends the next hour on the phone celebrating his new role with his parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins, and several neighbors. By the time he’s done, Lance’s face hurts from grinning, it’s dinner time, and he is starving . Lance hurries to the mess, where he’s pleased to see that Hunk, Pidge, and Keith are waiting for him. Well, Hunk and Pidge are waiting for him, Keith looks like he’s worried that he accidentally sat down at the wrong table. Then Lance almost chokes on his tongue, because Keith’s got his hair up in a sort of braided ponytail and it’s…it’s fine. He’s fine. The choked sound that comes out of him is completely coincidental. Everyone turns to look at him, so he forces himself to move.  

“Guess what!” Lance slams his plate down and flops into the empty seat next to Hunk.

Pidge blinks up at him. “Huh?”

“I just got into the fighter pilot class!”

Keith cocks his head to the side, staring at him. “You weren’t already?”

“ No ,” Lance snaps at the same time that Hunk sighs and says “Oh geez.”

“Oh.” 

“‘Oh’? How do you not know that I’m not in the same class as you?”

The other boy makes a “I don’t know” sound. Lance stares (thankful for the excuse to do so). Pidge snickers. Hunk looks vaguely concerned. 

“Do you know any of your classmates?” Pidge leans forward, clearly fascinated. 

Keith shrugs and starts eating his dinner.

Lance blinks a few times and decides to move past it. “ Anyway , as I was saying, I’m in the fighter class now!”

Hunk beams and pulls him into a hug. “That’s great, buddy!”

“That’s awesome, Lance!” Pidge holds out a hand for a high-five. 

“Mmmf,” Keith chokes down his food and smiles. “Betcha twen’y bucks Iverson’ll have an aneurysm before end of term.”

Lance decides that this is probably the Keith-equivalent of congratulations. Probably. Anyway, Keith’s looking at him and smiling brightly, so Lance laughs, makes finger guns, and says “bet.”

“Oh my gosh,” Hunk whispers, leaning in next to him. “You’re smitten .”

“Shut up,” he hisses back, elbowing his so-called best friend. 

“You are sooooo smitten.”

“Shut. Up.”

Pidge stares at them from across the table, smirking a little. Lance gives her a fake smile, and then glares at Hunk. Hunk grins and wiggles his eyebrows and mouths “smitten”. 

Lance flips him off and then looks at Keith. “Did you get your class schedule yet?”

“Mmm, prolly.” 

“What?!?” Hunk stops wiggling his eyebrows and squawks, horrified. “You haven’t checked yet?!?”

Keith shrugs and starts stealing Pidge’s tater tots. 

“Dude. Keith, my man, my friend, buddy—”

“Don’t you literally live with teachers?” Pidge asks, interrupting the increasingly hysterical terms of endearment. 

Keith shrugs again and continues taking tater tots.

Lance stares and tries to decide if this lack of concern is cute or not. Hunk glances at him, sighs, and elbows him before staring hard at Keith. “How have you not checked your schedule?” The older boy just shrugs again . “Pidge, why is he like this?”

Pidge shrugs. “He’s been like this since I met him. I think it’s just who he is.”

“Hey!” Keith scowls and flips Pidge off. 

Pidge grins and returns the gesture, then turns to Hunk and Lance. “So I don’t know if you guys have heard yet, but you’ll have a new classmate this semester.”

And that’s how Lance learns that Pidge was taking all the entry exams and finals to skip two grades and get into their class this fall. Which’ll be awesome, because this is the year they’ll be assigning flight teams and squadrons and all that jazz that comes with futures in space exploration and being fighter pilots. He can hardly wait!

“Well,” Hunk announces, holding up a glass. “I think we should toast to a fantastic new semester!”

Keith cocks his head to the side. “Is this, like, a thing you do? Like, regularly?”

Lance pokes him in the ribs. “Just hold up your glass. This is a bonding moment.”

The older boy sighs, but he holds up his glass. Pidge grins widely and holds up her own, making knowing eye contact with Lance as she does.

He ignores her and raises his glass to join the others. “To a new school year and new opportunities!”

Chapter Text

One of the hardest parts about being the flight commander is keeping his team on track, something that Shiro’s learned the hard way over more than a decade of trying to wrangle his navigation officer and engineer (and himself) into behaving. Jason Isaacs and Ana Zhao are great during the actual sims and flights, they’re fantastic team mates, and Zhao’s got the kind of genius that means she can run circles around both of them in classes, but the unique combination of her, Jason, and Shiro means that they usually spend half of their freetime fucking around in increasingly dumb ways. 

At the moment, Shiro’s pressing his forehead into the tablet screen and hoping for osmosis to help him conquer the flight course, while Jason hangs upside down in his chair and spins in slow circles, and Ana is taking apart a laptop that probably doesn’t belong to her. They’re supposed to be going over a proposed mission to Io, but it’s been several hours and now they’re officially out of concentration. Shiro can’t help but wonder who thought it was a good idea to let anyone under thirty into the military, let alone trust them with important things like deep space exploration.

“D’ya think bees can still build hives in space,” Ana asks suddenly, not looking up from the circuit board she’s pulling apart. 

Shiro snorts and turns his head so that his cheek is resting on the tablet and he can see the engineer. He doesn’t have enough will to continue living, let alone answer the question.

“Spiders can spin webs in space, so probably?” Jason shoves a hand against the floor to set off another chair rotation. “I’m sure someone’s done that experiment before. How’s the flight plan looking, oh glorious leader?”

“Fuuuuuuuuck…” Shiro groans and squeezes his eyes shut again.

“Great, good, wonderful. Makes me confident in our continued survival to hear that. Hey, who’s laptop is that?”

Ana purses her lips. “Um…”

“Did you steal my laptop?!?” The man tries to sit up, overbalances, and falls face first on the floor with a horrendous thud. 

Both engineer and pilot sit up with some concern. The navigation officer lays there for a few seconds before he rolls over and gives them a thumbs up. For some reason, Shiro’s very tired brain finds this hilarious and he giggles, which sets off Ana. Jason huffs and reaches up to gently poke at the swollen lip he’s just given himself.

The lounge door swooshes open and Shiro tries to get himself back under control, resorting to a quick breathing exercise as Ana makes an “eep” sound and springs up to attention. Years of ingrained behavior kick in and Shiro mimics her stance before he’s even consciously registered that Commander Iverson is standing there with his usual scowl already in place. There’s some clattering and the upturned chair skids about a foot to the left when Jason shoves himself upright and into a salute while trying to untangle his legs.

Iverson lets the three young people stand at a very awkward attention for several moments before returning the salute. “At ease. Lieutenant Zhao, that had better not be government property.”

“No, sir!”

“Shirogane, are the three of you cleared for flight at this time?” 

“Yes, sir.” Shiro replies, because that’s his part in all this. “Clinic cleared us all last month, sir.”

Technically, the clinic had cleared him and Jason last month. Ana’s only been cleared for the last week, because she’d given herself a concussion during a particularly intense game of paintball. And technically, Shiro’s clearance is provisional, given the whole “chronic illness” thing. But yes, as of last week, they’re all clear to fly. 

“That head trauma isn't going to be an issue, is it, Isaacs?”

“No, sir! ‘Tis but a flesh wound, sir!”

Shiro has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from breaking out in giggles again . Ana sucks in air through her nose in a way that means she’s also fighting it. 

Iverson looks unimpressed—well, more than usual. “Shirogane, what’s the current status on the Io transport?”

“We’ve finished charting a proposed flight path, but we need to run the sims and check for variables. It should be ready within the week.” Actually, they could probably have it done by tomorrow if needed, Shiro’s team works great under pressure.

“Let’s table it for after the semester starts.” The Commander has his almost-but-not-quite-a-smile expression on. “Your team’s being called up for the next Venus run.”

He can feel his team’s excitement, and Shiro has to fight to keep from breaking out into a huge grin or cheering. They’ll be the youngest team to ever fly that mission! All three of them have flown missions before, but that was always separately and under the command of more senior officers. This is huge!

“I’ll need your flight plans by Thursday, and you’re slated to leave on Saturday. Two weeks of travel time, no detours, no fuss. Details are already on your tablets. Understood?”

All three of them snap back to attention and chorus a “Sir, yes, sir!”

The man nods, then gives one of his actual smiles. “Very good. Congratulations, you’ve earned this. Don’t fuck it up.”

He nods to them again, then turns and strides out of the room. 

The second he’s gone, Shiro breathes out. “Holy shit!”

His teammates both whoop and Ana bounces up and down in excitement and throws herself at him in an enthusiastic hug. 

“Holy shit!” She shrieks in agreement, grabbing blindly to try and pull Jason into what she’s decided will be a group hug.

She manages to get a handful of uniform and hauls him into the embrace with enough force to send him stumbling headlong into her and Shiro. Shiro’s already off-balance from the tackle-hug and they all go falling to the ground in a cackling, slightly euphoric heap.  Ana’s giggling hysterically, her long hair slipping out of its tight bun and getting in Shiro’s face. He tries to brush it away but he’s laughing so hard that instead of getting the hair out of his face, he accidentally elbows Jason in the head hard enough to jolt his funny bone. 

“If you guys give me a concussion right before the biggest mission of my life, I will k-kill you in your s-sleep!” Unfortunately, the threat is ruined by Jason’s inability to keep from laughing right along with them. 

Shiro had started trying to squirm out from under his teammates, but this threat just makes him laugh harder. “S-shut up, n-nerd!”

“Oh fuck you.” 

“Y-you quoted M-monty Python at I-Iverson! Oh. My. G-god.” Ana dissolves into fresh peals of laughter. 

It takes them several minutes before they’re all able to breathe enough to sort out their limbs and get into upright positions. By then, all of their ribs ache, Ana’s hair is floating in a staticky halo around her head, Jason’s face is sporting a swollen lip and a nice bruise on one cheek, and Shiro’s coughing like a life-long smoker because he choked on his own spit. They’re definitely a convincing image of the Garrison’s finest flight team.

Chapter Text

Lance, Pidge, and Hunk are enjoying a relatively peaceful afternoon in the library when Keith comes marching in like he’s on a mission. He comes right up to the table they’re using and, without pausing, scoops Pidge up and out of her chair, tosses her over a shoulder, and marches back out. The entire kidnapping takes place in a matter of seconds. 

“What just happened?” Hunk stares at Pidge’s empty seat with utter confusion.

Shrugging, Lance stuffs his stuff back into his bag and hops up. “Dunno, but I wanna see what happens when a force of nature meets a terrifying genius.”

Hunk graciously does not call him on referring to Keith as a force of nature, but sighs and gathers his own belongings as well, following along only slightly reluctantly. They catch up as Keith enters the admin building through a side door. Pidge is grunting and squirming on his shoulder, drumming her small fists against his back and swearing up a blue streak. She stares up at the two boys with fury blazing in her eyes. “Help. Me.”

They both pretend that they’re too far away to hear her and follow in Keith’s wake as he marches down one hallway, up a flight of stairs, before striding into a faculty lounge area and dumping Pidge in front of a group of officers.

“Found her.” He brushes some loose strands of hair out of his face and moves back out of Pidge’s kicking range.

One of the adults whispers “What the fuck?” 

“You could’ve just let me call her.” Matt Holt sighs, sitting cross legged on the arm of the lounge’s ancient couch. “But thanks.”

Shiro makes eye contact with Lance and gives him a cheery wave. Lance waves back and tries to place everyone else in the room. He vaguely recalls the petite woman sitting with her legs over the other arm of the couch as a TA from a class he took two years ago, and he knows Imari from the whole “bribing with brownies” incident, and, of course, Matt. 

“What,” Pidge snarls, glaring at each of the adults in turn. “The actual fuck.”

Matt gasps in mock horror. “ Language! ”

“We need you to help Holt break into a server,” the woman deadpans, eyeing her like she’s a feral cat. 

From next to him, Hunk squeaks and leans over to whisper in Lance’s ear. “That’s Ana Zhao, she’s, like, super cool. She teaches the engineering course I’m taking this year.”

Lance nods mutely, watching as Pidge’s face goes through several emotions before settling on skeptical.

“You’re asking me to help you hack some government property while we’re on government property?”

Keith smirks and comes over to sit on the floor by Hunk and Lance. He flops down in a way that reminds Lance strongly of a cat. After a half-second, he shifts so that he’s leaning against Lance’s leg. Lance’s dumbass brain short circuits.

“Yes, that sounds exactly like something we’d do,” Imari mutters. He’s braiding Zhao’s hair mechanically. 

Shiro shrugs. “It does kinda sound like what we’re doing, not gonna lie.”

Matt beams. “We’re trying to break into the old NASA server so we can access some of their older articles.”

“You’re shitting me.” 

“If only,” Zhao tilts her head back further as the tension on her hair increases. “But no, we need to check out some old articles on some experiments that they ran back in the 1900s.”

Pidge stares at them, then whips around to glare at Keith. “You kidnapped me for this? ”

“They made me an offer I couldn’t resist.” He scowls at Shiro and Imari.

“Don’t break curfew if you don’t want to be blackmailed,” Imari sing-songs, still braiding.

Shiro nods in agreement. “Valid advice. So, Pidge, can you please help us? Your brother has failed me, so doing this will make you the superior hacker.”

Matt scoffs and free falls off of the couch, landing on the floor and stretching out to hand over his laptop. “Puh- lease , she’s already the superior hacker. That’s why I recommended her.”

Pidge makes forceful eye contact with each of the adults, still glaring. “What. Is in it. For me?”

“Bragging rights.” Imari finishes the braid and looks at Pidge with a very conspiratorial smile. “And Shiro and Ana have to give you credit in their dissertations.”

The other officers gape. 

“What. The fuck.” Shiro says after a moment. 

“Damn, Curtis, where was this enterprising spirit when I needed it?” Matt’s on his stomach, legs kicking idly in the air. His tone is almost approving.

Zhao sighs. “I’m not sure it’s worth winning this argument if I have to cite a toddler.”

Pidge makes a Grinch-worthy smile, clearly pleased with these responses. “Deal.”

She starts typing, while Imari receives several glares from the other adults. He shrugs and pulls out his phone, apparently content to ignore them. Shiro gives up glaring after a few seconds, and looks appraisingly at the cadets instead. 

“You guys up to anything good today?”

Lance shrugs. “Just enjoying the last days of break and all that. You?”

“Oh, y’know, this.”

“Yeah…” Hunk cocks his head. “What is ‘this’, exactly?”

Zhao grins and bounces off of the couch. “We’re settling an argument! Hey, is anyone else hungry? I’m starving. ”

“Oh!” Shiro hops up to join her. “There’s a tub of brownies in the fridge!”

Imari glances up from his phone and makes alarmed eye contact with Lance, then they both look down at Keith in a panic. Keith’s picking at the hem of his pant leg, and Lance isn’t sure if he’s legitimately not listening or if he’s just playing innocent. Lance looks back up and Imari shakes his head “no”. He nods in agreement and they both turn to watch Shiro and Zhao dig through the fridge. 

“Okay, who ate the brownies?” Shiro straightens back up and frowns accusingly at the assembled group. 

Matt scoffs from the floor. “Dude, there are more than 800 faculty and staff members here, and I guarantee you that about a third of them have used this room in the past week. What makes you think it was us?”
“Because I literally left a note saying not to eat them. And we all know that the people in this room are the most likely to disrespect that request.”

“Could’ve been Wasan, he’d definitely ignore that note.” Imari suggests with the best faux-innocent expression that Lance has ever seen. “Have you considered that?”

“Okay, first off, wow . Just, wow . Secondly, I’m pretty sure he didn’t do it, because he made them, and we have some at home.”

Imari shrugs and goes back to his phone, looking like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. “Just sayin’.”

Shiro opens his mouth to argue but closes it again after a second, clearly considering the possibility. Then he swears under his breath and pulls out his phone. From the floor, Keith snickers quietly and starts twisting his shoelaces around his fingers. Imari glances back up to grin at Lance, which is terrifying, because Lance would really like to not be an accomplice in all of this. 

After a few minutes, a very annoyed looking Lieutenant Wasan comes in, pausing in the door to stare at the group. “Okay, what couldn’t possibly wait until after I got done with my report?”

“‘Sup, Adam?” Keith waves from the floor. 

The man sighs and waves back. “Heya.” Then, back to the room at large, “ What?”

“Did you eat my brownies?”

Lance is a bit of an expert when it comes to irritated facial expressions, being the youngest child in his family, so he can safely say that Adam would like to throttle his boyfriend right now.

“I’m just asking,” Shiro says, holding up his hands innocently. “Because we both know that every time I specifically say not to touch my food, you feel compelled to touch my food.”

“So does Keith, but you aren’t accusing him of theft!”

Keith blinks up at them, frowning. “Hey!”

Lance glances over at the instigator on the couch, and is impressed by the poker face Imari’s managed to put on as he watches this scene unfold. Adam’s already about two seconds away from violence, judging by the glare and emphatic hand gestures he’s making as he argues his lack of involvement. Shiro’s still trying to act like he’s just curious and not implying anything, but he’s also starting to get annoyed at the continued proclamations of innocence. Lance glances down at Keith again, and decides, based on the subtle way his lip is quirked, that Keith had, in fact, been paying attention from the start. He nudges the other boy with his foot, and Keith looks up and grins at him. Lance rolls his eyes and Keith’s grin widens.

Suddenly, Pidge draws the attention of everyone in the room as she throws her hands up in the air and shouts “Done!”

The couple pause midargument, Shiro looking pleased and Adam looking like he’s about ready to murder someone. Matt whoops and tackles her in a hug. “That’s my sister!”

Zhao whistles, clearly impressed, then comes over to take the laptop. Imari moves to join her. Shiro gives his boyfriend a rather apologetic grin and hurries over to join the huddle.

“Unbelievable.” Adam stares at the other officers with a look Lance also recognizes from his days of pissing people off, then turns to look at Hunk, Lance, and Keith. “What did you do?”

Hunk and Lance frown in confusion, but Keith huffs and stands up. “ Nothing.”  

“Really?”
“Yes. We’re just watching them. Why do you always think I did something?”

“Oh, I dunno, because every time I turn around, you’re up to something, Keith. I have literally lost track of the number of times I have had to bail you out because you broke some rule or other. Your school file is actually over three inches thick, which is a new record, by the way.”

Hunk coughs to cover his laugh. 

Keith pouts, like, honest to God pouts . Lance makes a squeaking, choked sound at how cute that is. Unfortunately, this attracts the attention of Keith and Hunk and Adam, who all stare at him curiously (and knowingly, in Hunk’s case). He clears his throat. “Um, what was the previous record and whose was it?”

“It was about an inch, and it belonged to some guy named Takashi Shirogane.”

Clearly having heard his name, Shiro glances over. Adam waves sarcastically. Shiro beams at him and waves back. Lance stares at the grinning man, then levels a skeptical look at Adam, who shrugs. 

“He’s very good at pretending to be a responsible person instead of an idiot who once got locked in a supply closet because he was out after curfew and had to hide from a patrol.”

Lance is trying to come up with a response, when Zhao shrieks “Yes!” and punches Shiro on the arm, hard. “In your face!”

Imari cheerfully hands the laptop over to the Holt siblings and bounces to his feet. “Well, that was a massive waste of time and resources! Kids, this is what happens when you decide to get that graduate degree—you go slowly insane and fight over what bugs can and can’t do in space.”
Zhao is still shouting. “I told you! I fucking told you!”

“Can’t believe they call you guys the Garrison’s finest,” Pidge mutters, watching the adults devolve further into chaos as Shiro good-naturedly shoves the woman over and then has to fend off several playful attempts to knock him over in turn. 

“Unbelievable,” Adam snorts in disgust. “So glad I left my office for this.”
“Hey, I haven’t eaten lunch yet because this just had to be resolved asap, so we’re all suffering here.” Imari moves to stand in the doorway, well clear of the wrestling match. 

“I’m so sorry for your suffering. Care to weigh in on whether or not Shiro is actually a human disaster?”

Imari grins widely. “Oh, he most definitely is. Sophomore year, he snuck off campus to go get a milkshake for some reason, and on his way back, he realized that he’d left his ID, so he couldn’t get back in. Rather than text literally any of his friends, he tried to sneak in through an open window. It was Iverson’s office. He then had to hide under a desk for like twenty minutes because the man came back in before he could get out. The only reason he was not caught was because Matt and I accidentally set off a fire alarm on the other side of campus and Iverson came to chew us out.”

Adam blinks a few times. “I…actually did not know this.”

“Yeah, I don’t know where you were.”

“Obviously not keeping a close enough eye on that idiot. Damn.” 

Shiro and Zhao have started some sort of shouting argument over whether or not he was right or she was. Matt is gleefully tossing out the occasional comment, apparently switching sides in an effort to rile them up further. 

Keith stands and makes a beeline for the doorway, grinning back at Hunk and Lance as he moves to escape the chaos. Adam snags the back of his shirt and pulls him to a stop. 

“Do not go and harass Bryant, he’s suffered enough.”

“Wasn’t gonna.”

“And take Pidge with you before she starts hacking into the Garrison labs or something out of boredom.”

“ Fine. ” Keith huffs, then stomps forward, grabs Pidge by the wrist and starts dragging her along. He glares at the man. “Happy?”

“Ecstatic. Take Hunk too, you need more common sense.”

“I’ll just take Lance as well then, shall I?”

“Please do. Go be a productive member of society or something while you’re at it.” Adam pats him on the shoulder condescendingly and steps aside. “Have fun.”

Chapter Text

“We are baking brownies,” Hunk announces when they’ve exited the administrative building.

Lance and Pidge both cheer and start victory dancing on the sidewalk, because, well, brownies.

Keith, who’s already wandered off to stare intently at some sort of wasp on a nearby railing, glances over. “Cool.”

“That was an invitation,” Hunk clarifies, because he’s already figured out that Keith’s possibly worse at reading social cues than just about anyone else he’s met. “You are joining me in the making of said brownies.”

“Oh.” 

It’s not a negative sounding “Oh”, so Hunk nods and starts towards the mess hall. “We’re breaking into the kitchens. C’mon.”

This elicits a gleeful grin from Keith, who bounces over and starts walking with him. “You’re supposed to be the common sense person, y’know.”

“Brownies are a common sense thing.”

“S’pose.” 

From behind them, Lance and Pidge have started chanting “Brownies!” over and over as they follow along. It’s a good thing that this isn’t a stealth mission, because they’d already be dead. 

“I do have access to a kitchen we mostly wouldn’t need to break into.” Keith offers after spending several seconds staring at the pair with mild fascination. “If you prefer.”

Hunk hums in consideration and then shakes his head. “Nah. I don’t want to mess up anyone else’s kitchen, and I already know that we can find all the ingredients here.”

Keith nods in appreciation for this point.

It takes them much longer than it ought to to get across the quad, because Keith swerves off repeatedly to poke at the flowers, walk on a curb like it’s a balance beam, and generally demonstrates a remarkable amount of ADHD tendencies while Hunk wonders if he’s ever been tested for that. It doesn’t help that Lance, who’s had that diagnosis since middle school and who definitely hasn’t been taking his meds this summer, is also running ahead to climb a tree, jumping onto benches, and kicking a rock along for several feet while still chanting about brownies. At one point, he offers Pidge a piggy-back ride, then does a sort of impromptu war dance in a circle while she clings on and shrieks. Hunk feels a little like a tired single parent as he herds them through the doors and into the mostly empty building.

He was sort of exaggerating the “breaking in” part—the doors are unlocked and the building is definitely occupied. It’s more like “entering with uncertain permission”. The only people in the kitchen are a pair of cadets who are clearly doing some sort of penance in the form of dish duty, and one of the kitchen staff, Rosa, who smiles genially at Hunk before continuing to critically inspect the clean dishes.

“Huh,” Keith looks around with open appreciation. “Never been in here durin’ the day before.”

Hunk frowns a little at this, but decides not to ask why Keith would be in the kitchen in the middle of the night. He likes his plausible deniability. “Okay, so first we need to preheat the oven and gather supplies. Have any of you ever made brownies before?”

He levels a skeptical look at Keith, who lowers the hand he just raised and sheepishly asks “does it count if they didn’t really end up very brownie-ish?”

“Anyone else?”

Pidge just shrugs and starts pulling her hair into a ponytail, cursing at the tangles. Lance offers a rapid-fire excuse about his being banned from the kitchen at home following a pancake mishap. Unfortunately, that catches both Keith and Pidge’s attention, and they want details. 

“Okay!” Hunk claps his hands and waits for them all to more-or-less focus on him again. “So we need cocoa powder, flour, eggs, sugar, vanilla extract, and butter. Lance, you and Pidge get that. Keith, find me a set of measuring cups, a mixing bowl, a whisk, and a baking pan.”

“The fuck is a whisk?” Keith mutters, already looking like he would dearly love to be outside again.

Hunk leaves him to figure this out and goes to preheat the oven. Then he wanders over to say hello to Rosa, because she’s a lovely woman, and gives the two cadets a gloating sort of smirk. He knows Rizavi because the girl radiates pure chaos and is somehow dual enrolled in both engineering and pilot classes, while he recognizes Cohen because Lance spent the better part of Freshman year “totally not” crushing on him. They both glare back. 

“You let me have some of whatever you make and I’ll share my notes this semester,” Rizavi offers from her place at the sink, because much like Lance, she doesn’t do normal greetings. 

“I don’t share brownies with criminals,” Hunk declares grandly. She splashes some soapy water at him and gets snapped at by Rosa.

“Rosa, you are welcome to my brownies.” Hunk’s parents always said that food was the way to a woman’s heart. He’s inclined to agree. 

She beams at him. Rizavi flips him off. Cohen looks like he regrets every life choice he has ever made. Hunk feels like he has done his duty as a petty human being and turns to leave. From behind him, he hears Cohen mutter “I want a brownie,” while Rizavi hisses what have to be curse words in a language Hunk doesn’t recognize. 

Over on his end of the kitchen, Lance and Pidge have gathered the supplies and are stacking them on the counter. Keith’s apparently found the whisk and other required kitchenware and is now studying the cocoa powder with far too much interest.

“It’s not gonna taste good,” Hunk warns, moving to inspect the other ingredients. “Lance, this is salt. Do you not remember how to read?”

Lance swears, and spins on his heel to search for the sugar. Pidge snickers, so Hunk gives her a disapproving look. “You could’ve helped him. Keith, excellent job.”

Keith beams, and okay, he’s with Lance on the fact that Keith’s got a very good smile. He’s just one of those people who glows when he’s happy, which Hunk’s starting to suspect isn’t a super common thing for him. He makes a note to praise the other boy more often, because that cannot stand.

“Okay, so—yes, thank you, Lance. That is the sugar. So first we need to combine all the dry ingredients while the butter softens. I’m going to handle the butter, so just measure out the dry goods.”

He turns to the stove, calling out the correct amounts over his shoulder. As expected, a few moments after he calls for the cocoa powder, he hears some gagging behind him. 

“I told you,” Hunk sing-songs. 

“What the fuck is that shit?” Keith splutters. There’s another moment of silence, then he gags again, so apparently he thought it might be better the second time. “ Fuck!”

“Stop eating it then,” Pidge giggles. “What’s it even taste like?”

It devolves from there, and soon all three of them are gagging and spitting as they sample the cocoa powder. Hunk spares a second to share a long-suffering look with Rosa, who’s probably seen more of this brand of tomfuckery than anyone should ever have to. Rizavi, who’s drawn to chaos as a moth is drawn to flame, has abandoned her post at the sink and has meandered over to poke through the dry goods curiously. Cohen is rolling his eyes at the antics and also glaring daggers at his fellow convict. 

“Your butter is browning,” Rizavi informs Hunk cheerily. “And these idiots have confused a tablespoon with a teaspoon, just fyi.”

“Oh, shoot!”

After this, Lance and Pidge are relegated to audience members, while Keith is tasked with whisking. Hunk decides to deputize Rizavi, who is apparently the only one here he can trust to measure. He makes eye contact with Rosa, who rolls her eyes but seems to realize that putting the girl back on dish duty will only end with a small flood.

Between the Rizavi as deux ex machina and Keith’s utter enthusiasm with the whisk, they manage to successfully get the brownies mixed and into the oven without disaster. Pidge and Lance start up with the chanting again, but stop within seconds after Rosa snaps at them. She then reminds Rizavi that she still has dishes to do, and the girl sashays back to the sink with a cheerful “You better give me at least two brownies, Garrett!” 

Hunk rolls his eyes and waves her off. Unfortunately, he’s temporarily left the children unattended. They’re already starting to bicker. 

“Hey, we get to lick the bowl, don’t take that!” Lance shrieks, lunging to grab the dishes from Keith, whose eyes go wide with alarm at the assault. 

Keith smoothly steps back and pivots, dodging Lance. He scowls and clutches the bowl tighter, lips pressed together with determination. This will devolve quickly, Hunk can recognize all the signs, including the fact that Rizavi has once again left the sink to come closer, like a vulture eyeing a dying animal. 

“Lance, stop it! There’s plenty of batter there, you can each have some. Keith gets the bowl, he did all the hard work!” Hunk really has a new appreciation for parents. “You and Pidge can fight for the spatula versus the whisk.”

He watches sternly while Keith hands over the two utensils, arm still wrapped possessively around his bowl. Lance looks like he’d like to try and snatch it, but he’s not foolish enough to do that with Hunk watching. 

The three of them settle down to enjoy the batter, while Hunk starts cleaning up the small mess that was made during the measuring of dry ingredients. After a moment, Keith wanders over, some of the batter smudged on his cheek and nose. 

“Need help?”

“Nope! Thanks though,” Hunk adds, noting the way Keith shrinks a little. “You can take the bowl over to the dish pit if you want.” 

He makes a mental note that Keith, like Lance, seems to always assume that he’s being rejected, rather than that the offer is being rejected. 

Keith nods solemnly, like he’s been tasked with a serious mission, and marches off in the direction of the dish pit. Hunk watches Lance as Lance stares longingly after the other boy, making an additional note to talk with Lance about pining after boys without doing anything about it. Not that he wants to pressure his best friend to come out or do anything he doesn’t want to, but he does believe that it’s important to acknowledge one’s feelings. 

His brownies turn out a little fudgier than normal, but they taste spectacular. He generously shares some with the criminals, and makes sure Rosa has a large piece for her patience. Pidge eats four by herself and then moans about feeling nauseous, and Lance tries to smear some of his brownie into Keith’s face because Keith complains that Lance got a larger slice. Hunk has to intervene when Keith gets tired of it, flips Lance to the floor, and pins him there, more because of how horribly red Lance’s face goes at having Keith on top of him than because he’s worried for his safety. He makes a note to have a conversation about Lance pining sooner, rather than later.

Chapter Text

Overall, announcing that he’s about to spend two weeks in space at the last minute goes pretty well. Shiro’s husband-to-be is the picture of a supportive partner as he glares and says “Oh, you son of a bitch, you get to skip drill this month! Fuck you!”

Which is fair. And after dinner, he does follow up with questions like “What did the doctor say?” and “What’s the proposed course?” and “Do you have all your lesson planning done? School will be starting less than a week after you get back”. All of which is helpful and supportive and not too annoying. 

They’re getting ready for bed when he suddenly groans and throws a pillow at Shiro’s head. “You’re leaving me to deal with back-to-school Keith. Like, you’re leaving me to make sure he gets a haircut and that he’s got fitting uniforms and school supplies.”

Shiro snorts and throws the pillow back. “It’ll be fine, he’s sixteen, not six.”

“He has zero respect for me, Takashi. And I’ve got zero patience for him.”

Both of which are lies, but given that Shiro’s ditching him for two weeks, he’s probably allowed to be a little dramatic. 

“My love, I have literally watched you spend thirty minutes talking that kid down from running off to punch someone. So excuse me if I’m a little skeptical of that claim.”

Adam groans again and flops down on the bed face first. Shiro decides it’s probably wise to not point out that he’s either going to break yet another pair of glasses, or, at the very least, smudge them like crazy, so instead he sits down next to him and starts idly tracing patterns on his back.

After a few seconds, he sighs and rolls over, glasses very crooked (and smudged, as predicted). Shiro grins and gently pulls them off. “Hey.”

“Don’t ‘hey’ me, I’m still annoyed.”

Shiro grins wider. “You know, you’re very cute when you’re annoyed.”

“I swear to God, Shirogane.” He narrows his eyes at the grin. “Don’t you dare .”

It’s a testament to how long they’ve known each other that he already knows exactly what Shiro was thinking of doing, but he’s apparently still naive enough to think that glaring at him will keep Shiro from being obnoxious, which is definitely a failing he should address.

He gleefully digs his fingers into Adam’s ribs, eliciting a very indignant shriek from the man. Adam retaliates by grabbing his wrist and trying to throw him off of the bed. This, of course, prompts him to use the tried and true method of throwing himself down and going limp. 

Adam grunts at the sudden weight and jabs Shiro in the ribs repeatedly, but he’s also laughing a little, so Shiro counts this as a win. After a moment, the jabbing stops, and they both lay there trying to catch their breath. Finally, Shiro pushes himself up so their faces are a few inches apart. 

“Still annoyed?”

“Very. You’re such a little shit, you know that?”

“Ah, you love it.” He leans down and kisses him. “It’s one of my endearing qualities.”

Adam scoffs, but he doesn’t argue, instead pulling Shiro down and kissing back viciously. Shiro decides that two can play at that game, so he tangles his fingers in Adam’s hair and moves so he’s a little more firmly on top of him, planting kisses along his jaw. 

Adam sighs and tilts his head to the side, and mutters, “You are so full of yourself, Shirogane.”

This is probably not a total lie. Shiro hums and pulls away to look him in the eye again. “I love you so much.”

“Uh-huh. You’re very lucky that I have a thing for jocks with poor self-preservation skills.” Adam grins and lifts his head up to kiss him again, then gets that look in his eyes that means trouble. “And you are definitely going to be making this up to me.”

And then he bucks his hip and throws Shiro off using the momentum. Shiro faceplants into the pillow with a grunt, hearing his fiance snicker in satisfaction. 

He sighs. “You know, I was trying to have a moment. ”
“You can have a moment when you get done galavanting around in outer space.”

Shiro sighs again and gives up, surrendering to the pillows. A few seconds later, Adam turns off the light and curls up next to him, moving to rest his head against Shiro’s shoulder. He finds his hand in the dark and laces their fingers together, squeezing gently.

“You’ll be careful?” His voice is soft and concerned. 

“Hey, nothing is going to keep me from coming back to you,” Shiro murmurs, turning to press a kiss into his hair. “Promise.”

Adam sighs, shifting in closer. “You better. I’m not equipped to become a single parent and he likes you better anyway.”

After knowing him for more than ten years, Shiro can understand what he means without thinking. “I love you too, you dork.”

Chapter Text

It’s drop-off day, which means that the quad is packed with students and their families as everyone tries to move back into the dorms at the same time. While Lance does approve of the chaos and has been able to gleefully greet several of his classmates, he’s ready to get a break from all the noise and the people. Which is why he is currently trying to gently pop the lock to one of the roof access doors in the West Annex. He’s only been on this roof once or twice, but the dorms are way too busy, and this building is practically deserted in the summer.

Lance is using his student ID to unlatch the door, which looked a lot easier in the tutorial he’d watched a few months ago. He’s got the plastic card firmly wedged between the doorframe and the door, but it’s started to bend as he tries to slip it in between the latch and the frame. He holds his breath and tries to wiggle it in a little further, praying that it won’t break.

The door latch suddenly pops out and he breathes out a “yes!” as he opens the door and carefully slips out onto the searing hot roof. The annex building is on the far end of campus, closer to the air strips and the military buildings, so there’s near silence as he closes the door, making sure that the latch doesn’t quite catch so he can get back inside. 

He lets out a deep sigh and turns around to survey his new domain. And then he freezes, because there’s already someone on the roof.

“Are you stalking me or something, Kogane?” It comes out a little meaner than he’d intended and he knows that it doesn’t even make sense to accuse him, given that Keith was already on the roof before he arrived. But Lance’s mouth is nothing if not reliably dumb. The other boy jumps so violently that he nearly falls off of the roof. 

Lance’s eyes go wide and he lurches forward, like he’d stand any chance of catching him from halfway across the roof. “Sorry!”

Keith corrects his balance and moves a little bit away from the edge, motions a little shakier than normal. He’s breathing a little hard for someone who’s just been sitting, and Lance notices suddenly that his face is red and his eyes…

“Oh shit, are you crying?”

This, of course, is the exact wrong thing to say, and Lance starts mentally floundering for something to say as Keith’s face hardens into a glare and he crosses his arms across his chest.

“I mean, it’s okay , if you are. Like, crying is a good thing, y’know?”

The crossed arms seem less defensive and more like he’s trying to hold himself together. He’s tilted his head down so that Lance can’t see his expression. 

“And, like, you got stuck watching me cry last week, so it’s not, like, weird. Well, okay, it’s kinda weird. But, like, y’know…”

Keith still hasn’t said anything, but he’s gone from crossed arms to wrapping them around himself. 

“I’m not gonna make fun of you.” Lance finally gets a handle on his verbal diarrhea. 

They stand there in awkward silence, aside from Keith’s shuddering breathing. He’s still looking at the ground, still hugging himself, still not saying anything. 

“Look,” Lance sighs, stepping closer and extending a hand. “I’m really not—”

Keith flinches back from him, eyes flashing from behind his bangs. Lance freezes, unsure of what to do, then slowly holds his hands up in a pacifying gesture.

“Sorry. I just…”

The older boy takes a half step back, posture wary, and Lance’s uncertainty turns to annoyance. 

“For fuck’s sake, Mullet, get away from the edge!”

This, predictably, does not help the situation. Keith flinches again, tensed up like he’s about to either bolt or fight. Lance is reminded of a cornered animal, of the stray cats back home who’d puff up and swipe if you cornered them. He thinks that this is probably a good analogy, Keith is basically a weird street cat, with his lack of social awareness and his tendency to lash out when people rub him the wrong way. 

So he does what he always did as a kid when he wanted to befriend a cat: he moves very slowly, keeping his hands up and his motions loose until he’s about a foot from the edge, then he sits down. He’s around five feet away from Keith, which is apparently as close as he can get before the other boy starts to flinch again. Of course, Keith isn’t a cat, so…

“Come sit down,” Lance commands, patting the ground next to him. “We’re going to watch the jets taking off.”

He’s a tiny bit surprised when Keith does come over and sit down. Granted, he’s still a good two feet away, but it’s something. Keith pulls his knees up to his chin and stares straight ahead. If it wasn’t for the fact that, when Lance risks a glance, there are tears streaming down his face, and he occasionally lets out a shuddering breath, Lance wouldn’t even know that he was crying.

Lance tries to avoid looking at him, wanting to give him some privacy, because people don’t sneak onto roofs to cry unless they want privacy. But this gives him time to think, which is equally dangerous. Specifically, he’s worrying, because it’s not natural for someone to cry silently like that, that’s a learned thing. And when he adds in the flinching, it makes him very concerned.

“Hey,” he says after a few minutes of this, feeling like he’s going to explode if he keeps still. Keith pulls his legs in tighter, and he stops breathing all together. “Um…I don’t know how to make you feel better. Like, I know what to do for my other friends. But you’re, like, the prickly friend, and I don’t know…”

He trails off, because he’s not sure where to go with that. Keith continues sitting frozen, tears glistening on his cheeks, curled up like a turtle.

Lance tries again. “Look, I, um, I think I owe you an apology. I was kind of a jerk to you at first. And, like, you didn’t do anything to me. So I’m sorry.”

There’s no response, but Keith starts breathing again, still hitching with silent sobs. Lance eyes him, trying to gauge how he’s doing. He’s still shaking, arms wrapped around his knees, eyes shining with tears as he watches Lance from under his bangs. 

Lance frowns, then slowly reaches out a hand, careful, just like with the stray cats. He keeps his voice soft and calm. “Listen, Keith, I—I know we’re not, like, super close, or anything. But, um, we are friends. I just want to make sure—” he sees Keith shrink from the hand again, so he stops moving it, but doesn’t pull away, trying to convey harmless intent. “I just want to make sure that you’re okay. I, uh, I don’t know what’s wrong and I don’t…”

Keith lets out a shuddering breath and relaxes very minutely, then shifts so that Lance’s fingers are brushing his shoulder. Lance moves slowly and squeezes the bony shoulder.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” And it comes out as a vow. Lance means it. He doesn’t ever want to hurt this boy. “It’s okay. We can just sit here.”

He starts squeezing in a pattern, trying to ground him like he does for Hunk when he has panic attacks. After a few seconds of Keith silently crying and shaking while Lance sits there, feeling useless, he clears his throat.

“Can I hug you?” Keith retenses, so Lance quickly elaborates. “It’s okay if you don’t want me to. It just—it always helps me when I’m upset. But I know that some people don’t like being touched when they’re upset. And I’m not going to move unless you say it’s okay.”

He almost holds his breath, watching intently, afraid of missing any sign of what the other boy is thinking. He can feel Keith’s eyes on him, even if he can’t see past the bangs. A very dumb part of him wants to reach out and brush them away, but that would break his promise. Finally, he sees Keith give a tiny nod, and the boy leans into his touch a little more. 

Lance waits a few moments, then he moves over and, slowly, carefully, wraps his arms around Keith. Keith flinches violently and tenses up, but he doesn’t punch Lance or push him away. 

After a few seconds of Keith not switching into fight or flight mode, Lance shifts so that he’s got Keith’s head resting against his chest. It’s awkward, because Keith’s still curled into a ball, and Lance isn’t that much bigger than him, so he can’t exactly hold him without sitting at a weird angle. But Keith seems to relax a little in the embrace. He’s still crying in eerie silence, but he uncurls a little bit and turns his head so that he’s got his face buried in Lance’s shirt.

Lance graciously decides not to comment on the fact that Keith’s definitely getting snot on his shirt, because he can feel how hard Keith is shaking with each silent sob and he’s honestly a little scared that the boy is going to shake apart. He tightens his grip and does what his Mamá always does for him, he rocks them back and forth gently and hums the old hymn she always hums. 

He doesn’t know how long they sit there, long enough for his legs to fall asleep at least, but finally Keith stops shaking and his breathing slowly evens out. Lance stops rocking and very gently taps him on the head. 

“You don’t need to move or anything, but my legs have definitely fallen asleep and I need to shift or you’ll be carrying me back down the stairs.”

Keith huffs wetly and pulls away from Lance, already scrubbing at his eyes.

Lance’s shirt is a gross, soggy mess now, and, after a moment’s hesitation, he decides to just peel it off. Keith glances over at him and flushes a deeper red, no doubt embarrassed over having ruined Lance’s shirt. Lance does his best reassuring smile and stretches his legs out in front of him. 

“Sorry,” Keith mutters after a moment. He sounds harsh, but Lance knows all about sounding like an asshole after crying. 

He tilts his head in acknowledgement and stares out at the air strip again. “Like I said, crying is totally normal. I usually end up crying at least once a week. My family always said I had ‘weak eyes’.” 

Keith snorts. “Thought ya’ll weren’t religious?”

“What’s that have to do with anything?” 

“That’s the phrase they use in th’ Bible to describe women who cried a lot.”

“What,” Lance splutters in horror. “The fuck?”

The other boy chokes and laughs, a little thickly, perhaps, but closer to normal.

“ Oh my God! ” Lance says with deliberate theatricality. “That is…there is no… what the fuck!”

“Yeah, that’s what they say about Leah, she has ‘weak eyes’ and that’s why Isaac doesn’t like her.”

Lance doesn’t even have to pretend to be indignant, he’s already mentally writing out a long rant to give his parents later. Keith giggles a little and relaxes next to him, sprawling his legs out so that they’re parallel to Lance’s. Lance flushes and moves to brush hair out of his eyes, freezing when Keith flinches at the sudden motion.

“Sorry,” Keith mutters, shoulders hunching up again. “Jus’...”

Lance shrugs, and slowly finishes his motion. “No worries.”

He welcomes awkward silence, his old friend, while Keith glares out at the air strip and doesn’t quite relax again. Lance bites back his questions, for once recognizing in advance that his half-guesses about learned behaviors and missing parents would, in fact, be asshole things to say. He mentally pats himself on the back for this obvious character growth. 

After a few minutes of awkward silence and not-quite relaxed posture, Keith sighs again and pulls out his phone. “I gotta go.”

“Oh! Um…will you be, like, okay? I mean—”

“Yeah, no, I’m fine.”

He can’t keep the hurt off of his face at this rejection. Keith looks at him and makes a frustrated sound, shoving a hand through his hair roughly. “Sorry. I—thanks. For, y’know. Being my friend.”

Then he spins on his heel and darts off in the direction of the door, leaving Lance to sit there and think some more dangerous thoughts.

Chapter Text

Whenever Shiro leaves orbit on a mission, he always gives Keith an order to not get into any fights and sort of half-commands, half-begs Adam to not get into any crashes while he’s gone. And Keith usually rolls his eyes and gives the world’s most sarcastic “yessir” and Adam usually laughs and says he’ll do his best, but “no promises”. It’s basically a tradition at this point, and one he’s put little thought into. 

So when his call connects and Keith answers and turns on the video with that slightly guilty, “I have a secret” expression on his face, Shiro’s suddenly thinking “Oh my God, he got into a fight.” Only Keith looks fine and his face is a little less guilty and a little more “I have a secret” than it’d be if he had been in a fight. And Shiro’s assuming that since he’s, y’know, Adam’s fiance , they’d have told him if there’d been an accident during the latest test flight, that isn’t it either.

“What did you do?”

Keith scowls. “ Nothin! ”

“Really?” Shiro quirks an eyebrow. “So what’s with the face?”

“Missed you too, asshole,” Keith picks up the phone, causing the video to jump around as Shiro is treated to a very blurry, shaky tour of his apartment. Keith’s voice is muffled. “Hey, Shiro’s callin’!”

Shiro rolls his eyes and stares at the wall of his tiny berth on the research vessel, listening as the call audio crackles and Keith has a quick, muffled conversation with Adam somewhere in the apartment. 

Finally, the phone stabilizes and Keith’s face is visible again, the grin fully on display in a very suspicious manner. “So y’know how you always tell me not t’ get into fights?”

“Yes…”

“Well, I didn’t get into any fights today!” Keith whips the phone around to show Adam, who’s sitting at the kitchen table with an ice pack pressed to the right side of his face and is directing a positively lethal glare at Keith. “Adam did.”

Shiro blinks in confusion, trying to process this announcement. 

“Y’know, Keith, snitches get stitches.” Adam mutters. The camera shakes as Keith sets it down on the table so that Shiro can see both of them. “Don’t think I’m going to forget this.”

Keith just laughs and flops into the chair next to him, tipping it back to balance on two legs.

“What happened?!?” Shiro asks, completely lost.

Keith snorts. “Griffin happened.”

“Adam got into a fight with a teenager???”

“Yes, that sounds exactly like something I’d do,” Adam snaps irritably. He adjusts the ice pack and winces a little. “He means James’s father.”

This…clears up nothing. “Huh?”

“He broke James’s dad’s arm! And his nose.” Keith’s way-too gleeful response earns him another glare that he ignores with ease.

“He what?!?”

Adam gives up on glaring at the unrepentant teen and focuses instead on glaring defiantly at Shiro. “Oh, like you’ve never gotten into a fight before.”

“Um, not with a student’s parent , I haven’t!”

“Hey, the asshole deserved it.” Keith chimes in helpfully.

“He really did,” Adam agrees, still scowling. “Now we know where Griffin the younger gets it from.”

Keith nods in solemn agreement and brings the chair back down on all four legs again.

Shiro’s still gaping. “I’m sorry, what happened? What were you doing? Why— ”

“It was drop-off day, I was checking in students. I wasn’t doing anything.”

“He wasn’t,” Keith confirms, ignoring yet another annoyed scowl. “James’s dad dropped him off, and I guess he doesn’t like me?”

He says this like it’s a question and he can’t think of a single reason why any member of the Griffin family might dislike him. Shiro doesn’t bother reminding him of the years-long feud he and James have managed to nurse, or the broken bones, or the many insults, or the threats of disciplinary action. He’s not a total saint though, so he mutters, “Can’t imagine why.”

The kid ignores him. “I was watchin’ the cars, cuz what else is there to do, ‘nd I guess he saw me ‘nd decided to, I dunno, do somethin’ about it.”

“The man was definitely drunk. He apparently thought it would be appropriate to start verbally assaulting a teenager,” Adam says, pulling the ice pack away from his face and frowning at it like it’s the cause of all of his problems. He’s got a nasty looking bruise blossoming on his cheek, as well as the beginnings of a black eye. “It was pretty obvious, and his poor kid was just standing there, totally humiliated.”

Shiro winces in sympathy. “That looks bad, did you get it checked?”

“Yes, Takashi, I did . It’s just bruises.”

“Anyway,” Keith interjects, apparently intent on relaying this story without interruption. “He was bein’ an asshole. Not a very creative one, though. Like, those insults were all very cliche.”

Shiro frowns at the mental image of a belligerently drunk man shouting insults at his little brother , and honestly, he’s already fully onboard with Adam breaking the guy’s arm.

“I’m so sorry that the drunk asshole wasn’t clever enough for you,” Adam says drily. “But I am very happy that you did not try to fight him.”

Based on the look in his fiance’s eyes and the too-nonchalant shrug Keith gives, Shiro knows there’s more there. He’d bet money that Keith’s a lot more upset by the whole encounter than he’s acting. Being accosted by an angry adult would be terrifying for any kid, but especially for one who’s not had the best experiences with angry men before. 

“Good job not engaging,” Shiro offers, because he knows that’s what he should say. 

Keith shrugs at him this time. “Lotta good it did, he got real pissed about it. Only reason he didn’t actually punch me was cuz Adam got in the way, actin’ all official ‘n shit.”

“I just told him that he needed to leave if he was going to act like that.” Adam rolls his eyes, then winces a little. “Which he decided was some sort of personal insult and then he punched me. So I reacted appropriately and restrained him until security arrived.”

Keith snorts. “You totally let him hit you first so you could beat him up.”

“Please, I’m an upstanding military officer, I would never intentionally bait a civilian just so I could punch him.”

Shiro can’t keep the smirk off of his face at that . “Yeah, you’ve never done a thing like that before.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Takashi.”

“So you beat him up in front of his own kid?”

“Yeah, well, he was getting aggressive with my kid first, so.” Adam shrugs. 

Keith glances off to the side so he’s facing away from Adam, but with the camera angle, Shiro’s got a great view of the small, shy smile on the kid’s face at that statement. He makes a mental note that he should tell Keith how much he means to him more often. And to tell Adam how much he loves him as well.

Chapter Text

Lance’s first class of the semester is, unfortunately, English. To his annoyance, Professor Harris believes in assigned seating based on last name, so he’s stuck between Leifsdottir and Mirata, neither of whom seem too thrilled with this arrangement. But at least they can all groan in agony together when he announces that most of the grade for this class will be for a group project.

Then comes a first aid course, which is more entertaining, as it’s a tracks-wide course, so everyone is required to take it. This is essentially a formula for chaos, made worse by the fact that their teacher shows up for exactly ten minutes, explains that they’ll have a rotating cast of T.A.s to teach them, and then disappears, leaving a very confused class and a T.A. who looks like she’d like to be struck by lightning rather than teach.

“Um…I’m a navigation specialist, so…I think we’ll just spend today and Wednesday going over the syllabus? Anyway, next week, you’ve got…” She checks her notes. “Uh, looks like you’ll have Second Lieutenant Imari…who’s also…not in any medical related field. Um…” more awkward silence as she frantically scrolls through the notes. “You’ll have to wait a few more weeks before you get anyone from, like, a medical background. So that’s great.”

After that, he’s got flight sim, where Commander Iverson spends the first half of the class lecturing them on proper behavior in the sim labs, and the second half is him making them do extremely basic maneuvers and practice flying in formations.

Lunch follows, and Lance finds that this year he and Hunk are not at the same table, but he does have Keith. Unfortunately, he’s also got Griffin, and there’s a seriously weird vibe between the pair. Not that they’ve ever been friendly, but this is like a different level. Lunch is nearly done when Keith finally stares at Griffin until the other boy makes eye contact and says “We’re fine.” 

Griffin blinks, then nods back. “Fine.”

Lance has no idea what that was about, and judging by the looks everyone else at the table exchanges, he’s clearly not alone. But the weird vibe dissipates into something that’s borderline pleasant, so he shrugs it off.

After lunch, he has Astronomy with Professor Montgomery. He’s pleased to see Keith is in this class, and less pleased to find out that this class consists almost entirely of group projects. Then they’re assigned their first project and partners and he finds that he has mixed feelings because Keith’s his partner. Class is dismissed early so that they can all get started. Keith waits by the door until Lance comes over, then falls in step with him. 

“I have an idea for the project,” he offers, swerving to avoid a group of students who’ve stopped in the middle of the hall for some reason. “Where d’ya want t’ head?”

Lance considers their options. “The library’s gonna be packed. And it’s super hot outside…”

“We could use my room.”

Suddenly, Lance’s brain is flooded with the concepts of alone and privacy and Keith . He’s so thankful that Keith’s busy swerving between groups of people, because his face is burning right now. He almost trips over his own two feet and nearly charges down the hall, blasting past Keith and saying loudly, “Yeah, sure, that’ll work.”

He can sense Keith’s confusion behind him, but he doesn’t dare look back. By the time they make it to the dorms, his face has cooled off and he’s gotten his brain back under control. 

Keith swipes open the door and strolls in, motioning for Lance to follow. The room’s the same as the last time Lance was in here, still utilitarian and barren, aside from the corkboard and sticky notes. Lance veers off to look at the new ones. There’s a purple one with a doodle of a cartoon lion, and another that reads: Stop stealing my brownies! in blocky print on a paisley patterned paper. And then he spots his own note, the one he’d left on Keith’s door last semester. Something warm blossoms in his chest at the sight of it. 

“So.” Keith clears his throat, looking awkward and out of place even though it’s his room. “The project.”

Lance nods a little too enthusiastically. “Yeah, right, of course. The project.”

“I was thinkin’ we could measure light pollution, then run some simulations t’ chart its effect on reentry. It’d be easy enough.”

“Oh, that’s a good idea.” Lance feels some of his old resentment trying to creep in, because it’s fucking brilliant , and of course Keith would just think of something like that off the top of his head. But then he thinks about glass oceans in the desert and shy smiles and holding hands in the dark of a secret passage, and it dissipates. He glances at the note again, and smiles. “I think we have a winner.”

Keith beams. Then he nods decisively and pulls out a notepad and starts laying out the details of how they’ll accomplish it. “We could take measurements in town, here on base, and then in the desert, so we have some good baselines. ‘Nd I can prolly get someone t’ help us build out th’ sim.”

Lance nods in agreement and tries his best not to stare as Keith starts scribbling out a basic plan, eyes bright and focused. Keith’s hair is just barely in regs again, and the long strands in front keep falling in his face as he writes. Lance finds himself sitting on his hands so that he doesn’t reach out and brush them away.

Chapter Text

Lance has decided to get a head start on tutoring this year, because after week two of his physics class, he’s lost, and astronomy’s not looking too much better. Keith had shrugged sympathetically at this announcement and suggested he bug Adam, “because he’s usually pretty good at explainin’ shit.” Lance is pretty sure that this is high praise, so he decided to go with it.

The office door is propped open, and he can hear Adam having a very annoyed conversation before he gets close enough to knock.

“...don’t know why it’s not working, that’s why I asked you to look at the equation in the first place.”

“Okay, well… what is this two doing here?”

“Hopefully doing its job as an integer and furthering the equation?”

Lance raps his knuckles against the door, leaning in a little to see inside. Adam’s sitting at his desk, leaning across it and scowling. Curtis is frowning back at him from the other side, slouching in a way that is very much at odds with the officer uniform. They both glance over at the doorway.

“Um, hi. I, uh, was wondering…” Lance clears his throat. “I, uh, need some math help.”

Adam sighs and waves him in. “Yeah, okay, let’s see it. Curtis, would you please do something useful and get your feet off of my chair?”

Lance hesitates in the doorway. “Um, is this a bad time?”

“No, you’re good,” Adam smiles, and it’s almost half-convincing.

Curtis snorts and holds the tablet back out. “You need to get rid of the two.”

“It’s in the middle of the equation though!” Adam groans and turns his attention fully on the other office. “Isn’t it close enough as is?”

“That’s not how math works!”

“I could just leave it.” The man muses, waving again for Lance to enter. 

“You could,” Curtis mutters, pulling his legs up further so he can rest his chin on his knees. “If you’re okay with burning up on reentry.”

“I might be if it means I don’t have to redo the entire thing.”

Lance frowns. “Maybe I should find a different physics tutor.”

“If you want to survive atmospheric compression, you probably should.”

Adam glares at his coworker. “Why don’t you help the kid then?”

“Because I hate teaching and also he asked you.”

“Um,” Lance grins weakly. “I just want to pass. So…I’ll take whatever help I can get.”

Curtis groans. “McClain, I will literally pay you to not make me do this.”

Smirking, Adam grabs a third chair and slides it towards the desk. “Here Lance, have a seat. Lieutenant Imari would be more than happy to assist you with homework because he’s an upstanding officer who wants to see cadets succeed. Right?”

“I hate you.” Curtis sighs into his knees. “So much.”

They start looking through his physics homework, and it quickly becomes apparent that Lance is definitely missing a few key concepts. 

“How have you made it this long without understanding Newton’s Laws?” Adam frowns. “And how have none of your teachers noticed this?”

Lance shrugs. “I actually do not know.”

“You passed my class. How?”  

“Hunk is an angel,” Lance sighs. “That guy is a true blessing to everyone who struggles with math.”

“That sentence made no sense to me,” Curtis observes, scribbling out an equation. “The fuck is a Hunk?”

Adam frowns disapprovingly. “ Language.”

The other man gives him a very unimpressed frown.

Lance answers, because everyone should know how awesome Hunk is. “Hunk’s my best friend. He’s, like, the best person ever.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Hunk Garrett, that big Samoan kid who built the air scrubber model for that competition last year? Throws up at least once a week? The kid Ana actually likes?” Adam offers. “Any of that ringing a bell?”

Based on the blank stare, none of it is.
“He baked those cookies I graciously shared with you last semester?”

“ Oh .” That, apparently, sparks some sort of memory. “Those were good! ”

Adam rolls his eyes. “Yes, they were. He’s the kid who made them.”

“Cool. Okay McClain, solve for X.” 

Lance groans.

Chapter Text

Shiro is sort of regretting his life choices today. One of the “fun” things he’s learned about myotonic dystrophy is that spending an extended period of time in zero-gravity tends to make it flare up with a vengeance. This is unfortunate, given his chosen profession. He’s had plenty of time to consider the correlation while laying propped up in bed with half of his muscles spasming and contracting angrily. 

“So remind me again how space is worth this?” Adam sighs, gently stretching Shiro’s left leg. “And breathe, babe.”

Shiro lets out a slow exhale, trying to relax the unresponsive muscles. “Because it’s the final frontier? And I’m getting to see and do things that no one else has ever done before.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It was incredible! You should’ve seen the stars out there. And the data. We’re so close to discovering—ow, fuck!”

Adam hisses sympathetically. “Sorry. Did you take your meds?”

“ Yes. ”

“Okay. Look, all I’m saying is that space and you don’t seem to agree with each other.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“You literally cannot walk right now, Takashi! It’s only gonna get worse, every time you go up there, you’re making it worse!”

“Could we not have this conversation right now?” Shiro gasps as a particularly painful twinge shoots up his calf. “Please?”

Adam’s lips are pressed together in a very disapproving line. “Well, it’s either this conversation or we talk about the fact that my parents wanna come visit over break.”

This is a trap, there is no right answer. Shiro groans. “You waited until I was physically unable to walk just so we could ‘talk’.”

He uses his left hand to do air quotes, since his right is also being uncooperative. 

“That wasn’t my intention and you know it.” Adam’s tone is equal parts angry and hurt, but he’s still extremely gentle as he helps Shio stretch his leg out again.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” Shiro winces. “Just. You know I don’t like being ambushed.”

“It’s not an ambush, Takashi.”

“Well, it feels like one.” He’s aware that this is an incredibly immature thing to say, but he’s exhausted and he hurts . 

Adam sighs and sets his leg down. “Look, I’m sorry that you feel like I’m attacking you. And I know you have some serious conflict avoidance issues. But babe, that’s how relationships work. We have to talk to each other, even when it fucking sucks. ”

“Fine. Fine. Let’s talk then.”

“Seriously?”

Shiro scowls and tries to unclench his right fist again. His fingers twitch, which is progress. “Seriously. Look, you know I’ve wanted to go to space since I was a kid. This,” he gestures at himself with his good hand. “This is just—”

“It’s not going away just because of a dream.”

“Yeah, I know . I do. But it’s worth it.”

Adam gives him the most skeptical expression Shiro’s ever seen. “It’s worth dying for?”

“Okay that’s—”

“It’s not an exaggeration, Takashi, I was at that last doctor’s appointment too.”

“Look, the doctor said it’s not progressing that fast. I still have years left, possibly even a lifetime.”

“That’s if it follows a normal progression, and it’s not aggravated by anything, like, say, zero gravity!”

Shiro sighs. “So I stick to short trips!”

“ This is what happens after a short trip! You’ve been stuck in bed for a week, and it’s still not improving.” Adam points a finger in warning. “And if the next words out of your mouth are ‘it’s not that bad’, I will make your invalid ass sleep on the couch.”

“Okay, okay. It’s…not ideal.”

Adam scoffs but doesn’t argue the point. 

“I don’t have that much time left,” Shiro has to force the words out. “I’m not gonna be able to fly forever, and I want to see as much of the universe as I can before it’s too late.”

“So, what, the plan’s to just keep doing short missions and then suffering for weeks until you can’t even walk on your own?”

“I mean, yeah! ”

“You realize that that’s insane, right?” Adam pulls his glasses off and rubs his eyes tiredly. “Takashi, seriously?”

Shiro forces himself all the way upright and crosses his arms defensively. “You have to make sacrifices in order to reach your dreams, sometimes!”

“Yeah, and sacrificing your life is obviously the only way to reach dreams.”

“This dream, yeah!”

“Then maybe you should remember your other dreams! Did it occur to you that I might prefer a living husband to a dead boyfriend?”

“There’s no guarantees, even if I didn’t go back into space,” Shiro scoffs. But he can see the desperation and concern writ large on his fiance’s face, and it hurts almost as much as the muscle spasms. In a slightly gentler tone, he adds, “I’m still gonna be sick, and it could take a turn for the worse at any time.”

“Oh, so that makes it okay—”

“That’s not what I mean!”

Adam scowls and throws his hands up in the air. “Then what do you mean?!?”

“I mean…I mean that I am gonna die, Adam. And I want to die knowing that I did something important.”

“I think you should take a good look at your priorities, Takashi.” He crosses his arms, mirroring Shiro’s posture. “Because to me, our relationship is important.”

“Adam, I—”

“I’m gonna go grab you some more meds, then I’m going to bed. You should try to sleep too.” 

He gets up and walks out.

Chapter Text

Lieutenant Imari looks as thrilled to be in the classroom as the students are, which is to say not even a little. He frowns at the smartboard, glances at his tablet, frowns up at the audience, then sighs audibly.

“Okay. So. I’m Second Lieutenant Curtis Imari, I am a Comms officer specializing in translating.” He must sense the impending question, because he quickly adds, “And I am only teaching this class because a semester of teaching experience was added as a requirement for my degree program this year and all the courses that actually pertain to my degree were already assigned.”

General snickering.

“So, uh, what have you guys gone over so far?”

Lance raises his hand. “We spent a week memorizing the syllabus.”

He’s never seen a man’s spirit die before, but he thinks that this might be what it looks like.

“Great.” The man sags a little and starts scrolling through his tablet, no doubt checking the syllabus. Or maybe sending out a plea for help. It’s hard to say. Finally he looks up and squints at them. “So you guys literally didn't do any of the unit last week?”

General head shaking and a few mumbled “no sirs”.

“Great. Okay…great.” He scrolls for a few more seconds, then nods. “Okay. So. I don’t know anything about anatomy, which was what you were working on last week. So we’re gonna make that a Wednesday problem. Do the readings from last week, we’ll figure it out then. And—yes, Cadet Rizavi?”

“What are we doing today then?” Rizavi’s tapping her stylus against the desk in a rapid pattern: tap, tap, taptaptap, tap tap. 

“Well, what did your syllabus say we’re doing today?”

“Basic field dressings.”

“We’re doing that.”

She narrows her eyes and pauses the tapping. “No offense, but do you have any experience in that area?”

“This is not a job interview, cadet.” 

He starts pulling up a presentation on the smartboard, displaying a very detailed picture of a bleeding gash on someone’s leg. Several students groan. Lance squints and tries to determine whether this is a stock image or the man actually paused to take a photo of someone’s injury before patching it up. 

“Okay, so. Have any of you ever taken a first aid class before?”

Silence.

“Have any of you ever watched those early twenty-first century hospital dramas?”

One or two heads nod sheepishly.

Their reluctant teacher sighs and mutters something that sounds a lot like “fucking great” before he seems to steel himself. “Okay, well, maybe half of what you saw was accurate.”

General laughter. 

“Now, we’ll spend the rest of the day learning how to do basic field dressings and a tourniquet. Pair off, I don’t care who with, as long as you’re okay with that person possibly cutting off your circulation if they do it wrong. Rizavi, since you had so many questions, you can come up here and be my dummy.”

She snaps a quick salute and heads to the front of the room, which has dissolved into chatter as they all scramble to find their friends. Lance catches sight of a familiar face and marches over to stand in front of Pidge.

“Do you know how to do any of these?”
Pidge shakes her head. “Nope. That’s my brother’s leg on the slide though.”

Lance nods in appreciation. “Cool. Be my partner?”

“Sure!”

Unfortunately, Pidge is better at wrapping him up like a mummy than actually stopping him from bleeding out. But she’s enthusiastic, at least, and she’s a good sport when Lance accidentally tightens the tourniquet too much. Imari rushes over to intervene, saving Pidge from a lifetime with only one arm. 

“Well, the good news is that you definitely did it properly,” he informs Lance as he hastily loosens the strap. “Holt, clench and unclench your hand to get the blood pumping again.”

Unfortunately, this is only the first of several near-amputations to take place, which is honestly what should be expected when teaching teenagers. But at the end of the class, everyone seems to understand how to keep a person from bleeding out for at least a few minutes. 

Lance walks out feeling like he could maybe save a life. He feels proud of this in an abstract way. 

Hunk immediately ruins this when he gets back to his room by asking, with calculated innocence, “So do you plan on asking Keith to the winter formal?”
The thing is…the thing is…the thing is that Lance would really like to see Keith in his dress blues and hold his hand and dance with him (and maybe more). The thing is also that he has no idea how one even asks a boy to dance. Or if Keith likes boys. Or if Keith likes him.  

“Shut up,” he mutters, slumping.

Hunk sighs. “You should ask him. He would be lucky to go out with you. And you’d be a cute couple!”

“Shut up,” he mutters again. “I just…don’t know.”

“Oh.” 

“I thought I’d just go with you and Pidge as a group, kinda like you and me did last year?”

“Oh, I see. We can definitely do that again. I’d be down.” Hunk smiles sympathetically. “We can ask Keith to join us too…”

Lance sighs. “That sounds good.”

Chapter Text

That night, Lance bursts into his sister’s room and throws himself on the bed, groaning loudly. 

“¿Qué? ” Ronnie sounds decidedly annoyed.

“I am having a crisis,” Lance announces into the pillow. “ Consolarme. ”

“Lancito, I really don’t have the time to help you with an academic crisis this early in the semester.”

“I am having a gay crisis.” Lance clarifies.

“Oh. Boy problem?”

“ Si. ”

“And you have come to me, a very confirmed lesbian, because you are having boy problems?”

Lance makes a dying whale sound into her pillow. 

“Okay. Okay.” She sighs and comes over to pat him on the shoulder. “ Dime que necesitas . Do you want me to bring in experts? Or do you want me to just be supportive?”

“You have experts?”

“Well, I know people. So you want help, do you want me to find people who have experience with boy problems or do you want me to listen supportively?”

He makes more dying whale sounds. Veronica sighs and taps at her phone for a few seconds. 

“Right, I’ve called the experts. You can send them away if you want, they won’t care.”

He makes even more dying noises. She sighs again and sits down on the bed, stroking his hair gently. They don’t speak until there are knocks on the door. 

She gets up and opens the door. “Fix him.”

Lance makes another dying animal sound and rolls his head to the side to see the so-called experts. 

“You’re…boy trouble experts?”

Veronica claps her hands. “Right, so, this is my brother Lance. Lance, this is Curtis, who is actually as much of a disaster as you are, and Adam, who is the most functional gay man I have access to at this time.”

Lance recognizes Curtis from the whole fiasco with Shiro’s brownies. The man looks like he just rolled out of bed. Adam looks like he’d welcome death, face spectacularly bruised and bags under his eyes. Lance is skeptical of his sister’s “experts”.

“Okay, first off, I already know Adam. Second off, Adam accepted a proposal in a Walmart, how exactly is he functional?” 

Curtis hums and points at Lance in a gesture that clearly means “yes, he has a point”, before sitting down on the floor and slouching back against the wall, eyes closed. He’s definitely in his pajamas.

“Yeah, but it was a proposal from a guy he’s been in a committed relationship with for several years,” Veronica says, looking annoyed. “And I don’t have anyone more functional who will answer my messages at eleven o’clock at night.”

“Sorry, what are we here for, exactly? You told me it was an emergency.” Adam frowns and idly kicks one of Curtis’s legs. “Are you dying?”

From the pathetic expression this elicits, it would appear that Curtis is, in fact, dying. The man doesn’t even open his eyes, just hisses, “Fuck. Off.”

Veronica frowns in disapproval, either over the language (which doesn’t even make sense) or over the lack of urgency from her friends. “Lance is having a gay crisis.”

“ Oh. Okay. Uh, so, Lance, what kind of gay crisis are we having then?”

Lance scowls and presses his face into the pillow again. “The boy kind.”

“Ah, that’s…”

“Is this an ‘oh shit, I like a boy ’ crisis, or an ‘oh shit, I like a boy’ one?” Apparently Curtis is a much more helpful expert, if a much less awake one. 

Lance appreciates this, so he generously removes his face from the pillow for a moment. “The second one? Maybe? I mean, I already know that I’m bi.”

“Oh, thank Jesus, I did not have it in me to gracefully assist with a full-on sexuality crisis.” Adam sighs, joining Curtis on the ground. “Sorry, that probably sounded bitchy.”

“Mmmm, yeah, li’l bit. I take it Shiro usually handles the emotions in your household?”

“Shut up. So, Lance, the problem is that you like a boy, and….?”

He slams his face back into the pillow. “I’ve never asked a boy out before.”

His sister comes to sit back on the bed and resumes stroking his hair. She has apparently resolved to be the silent partner in this whole interaction. 

Curtis makes a sympathetic sound. “Yeah, that’s definitely crisis worthy.”

“Boys are scary.” Lance isn’t sure that this was completely understandable, what with the pillow and all, but he’s already feeling stupid enough.

“Relationships are scary, and, unfortunately, boys can be a part of this.” This statement sounds surprisingly sage coming from a man wearing pajamas.

Adam, apparently having decided to try being helpful for the first time in this conversation, hums in agreement. “That’s accurate. So what’s the scariest part of this for you right now?”

Lance presses his face harder into the pillow and makes some more dying whale noises. 

“Okay. Right. So, I’m gonna guess it’s the possibility of rejection.”

More dying marine mammal sounds. 

“What was that?”

“I just…really really like him. And we’re friends. And I don’t want to ruin that.” He has to move his face from the pillow to speak clearly, and he’s both highly embarrassed and a tiny bit touched by the twin looks of sympathy he gets for this. 

“Oh, that’s hard.”

Curtis gives Adam a sideways glance. “You wanna maybe expound on that?”

“You’re very pushy sometimes, Curtis.”

Lance clears his throat. “You’re not being very helpful.”

“ Okay! I know that there’s nothing more terrifying than feeling like you want more from a relationship but not knowing for sure if they feel the same way. And it’s worse than that, because you know that if you say anything, you could lose what you have if they don’t reciprocate. But, Lance, I promise that it can be so worth it.”

“Now was that so hard?” Curtis gets smacked upside the head for this little jab, which does nothing to stop his smirking. After a moment, he looks serious again. “Lance, normally, if you’re stressing this much , then you already have an idea of what he might say. And it’s okay to be scared. It’s always scary to be vulnerable like that, especially with someone you care about. And, obviously, it’s also scary because he’s, y’know, a boy , and—shut up, Adam, it’s true— and that’s totally normal too. It’s different, trust me, I know, but it’s not, like, bad different? Does that even make sense? I am so fucking tired right now…”

Lance feels a little sorry for him, given that he’s been dragged out of bed to deal with a random sixteen-year-old’s mental breakdown. “It makes sense. But, like, I don’t know what I’m doing. At all.”

“Mmm, yeah, that’s basically being queer in a nutshell.” He seems to be sinking deeper into sleep as he speaks, eyes closed and head tilted back against the wall. 

Adam quirks an eyebrow and slowly raises his hand to poke Curtis on the side of the head. “Now who’s being unhelpful?”

“You’re both doing a terrible job as experts,” Veronica declares suddenly, taking her hand off of Lance’s head and pointing at the pair of them accusingly. “Step it up! Dios, you’re supposed to be helping him!”

Curtis flips her off without opening his eyes. “It is nearly midnight, I have not slept more than six hours in the past three days, I have to be awake and at work by 0400 tomorrow, so kindly fuck right off. Lance, you’re fine, because you have done nothing other than have a justifiable crisis.”

“Thanks?”

“Yep.”

Lance looks judgmentally at Adam, who holds up his hands in a defensive gesture. “Look, as it has been pointed out already, I’m not good at this sort of conversation. But I do understand, because asking someone out is always scary, especially when you haven’t done that before. And, although it pains me to admit it, Curtis is correct. You probably do have some sort of idea what he might say, which is also scary. But if you don’t take the chance, you’re going to spend so much time asking yourself what could have happened.”

“Y’know, he and Shiro literally spent the better part of high school dancing around each other. Like, they were both so in love and too scar— ow! ”

“ Anyway, ” Adam says, acting like he didn’t just shove the other man over. “That’s the best advice I can give. Just, decide if you’re willing to live with that regret or not.”

Lance presses his face into the pillow and lets out a long sigh. Veronica hums thoughtfully and pats him on the back in a consoling manner. Neither man says anything, which he’s choosing to believe is because they’re trying to let him process and not because at least one of them might be asleep.

Finally, he removes his face from the pillow and sits up. “That…actually was helpful.”

“Really?” Adam looks shocked.

Curtis, who hasn’t bothered to get back up after being knocked down and is mostly asleep, cheers weakly.

Lance nods. “I think? Yeah?”

“Well, great!

Veronica pulls him into a side hug. “You’re doing great, Lancito. Estoy muy orgulloso de ti, hermanito.”

He smiles weakly and returns the hug, letting her ruffle his hair and ignoring the “aw” one of the two men on the floor offers. She flashes them a severe look. “You are both actual disasters, I take back the title of ‘functional’.”

“This isn’t news,” Curtis mumbles, clearly losing his battle with sleep. After a second, he adds, “suck it, Adam.”

Adam looks done. “You’re sleeping on someone’s floor, you absolute wreck of a human being.”

Lance suddenly feels like he’d also like to sleep. He yawns and Veronica, being a terrible sister, coos and pinches his cheek. “ Demasiado lindo .”

“Okay, I’m going to bed now!” He pulls free and launches himself off of the bed, overbalances, and nearly faceplants. 

Thankfully, Adam’s got quick reflexes and manages to catch him and shove him upright. “Curtis can escort you back to the dorms, since it is definitely after curfew and he’s still in the barracks. And Lance, if you do need to talk to someone later, you are welcome to let me know. I’m not great at, like, giving advice, but I can listen. Or I can get Shiro to talk to you, he’s very good at the advice thing.”

“Thanks.” Lance gives him a sincere smile. “I, uh, appreciate it.”

“Of course.” 

It takes several seconds for Veronica and Adam to prod Curtis into an upright position, but after one of them mentions Lance’s being out after curfew, he seems to recognize the urgency and forces himself awake. He does, however, groan loudly and demand coffee, which both of them refuse to give him, citing his need for at least a few hours of sleep. Finally, he sighs and rubs his eyes, then nods to Lance.

“Okay, let’s get you back to the dorms before you end up with detention. Vamos .”

Lance snickers and follows him out into the hall. “You have a serious white person accent.”

“You’re actually not the first person to say that.”

“I’d hope not.”

Curtis snorts in amusement. “Little shit.”

They continue in silence for several minutes, while Curtis continues to force himself to stay awake and Lance starts to yawn with increasing frequency. Finally, he groans and stares up at the sky. 

“Why is it so hard to like boys?”

“Mmmm, because boys are both inherently dumb and also inherently endearing.” They reach the emergency entrance for the dorms and Curtis has to spend several seconds fumbling with his card to swipe them in. “And, y’know, internalized homophobia is a thing. Does it help if I say that it does get easier with age?”

Lance sighs. “Not really. He’s, like, so dumb though. And sweet. And, like, really, really cute.”

“Oh, you have got it bad .”

“Ugh, I know! ” Lance wants to make more dying whale sounds, but they’re in the dorms now and that’ll definitely bring whatever RA is on duty down on his head. “Hence my crisis.”

Curtis makes a very sympathetic sound, then hesitates. “I have no idea what your dorm number is, are we even in the right building?”

“Oh. Yeah, but I’m on the fourth floor.”

“Fuck me, not stairs.” The man sighs. “So tired.”

“Is chronic sleep deprivation an officer thing?”

“No, it’s a grad student thing. Just you wait.”

“You’re really selling me on the whole ‘higher education’ thing,” Lance deadpans. “So thanks.”

They start up the stairs, which Lance will agree feels much harder tonight than it usually does. 

“I, uh, did want to say thanks, for, y’know, putting up with me tonight.” He’s out of breath already, with three flights to go. “I know it’s not how you wanted to spend your night, and it was kind of a waste of time, and—”

“Okay, no. Nope.” He stares at Lance with obvious frustration. “That was not a waste of time. Like, at all. Your crisis was valid. You being scared is valid. And talking about it, working through it, that’s…that’s not a waste of time.”

Lance thinks that there’s probably not a non-weird way to say that you’re thankful for your sister’s friends losing sleep over your crisis and he’s tired and it’s been a lot and they are basically strangers, so he nods awkwardly. 

Curtis returns the awkward nod, giving him a little bit of a smile. He seems relieved that Lance isn’t arguing. The next three flights of stairs are handled in a commiserative silence, both of them flagging. 

At the top, Lance is waved through the entrance with exaggerated flourish. He grins a little and does an equally exaggerated bow in return. He’s nearly to his door when Curtis calls after him. 

“Hey, like Adam said earlier. If you do need to talk, you’re welcome to hunt me down. Or him. I’d say hunt down Shiro, but let’s be real, he sort of just manifests when you think enough gay thoughts. Literally, one time I thought ‘oh, that guy is very hot’, and he just appeared. Honestly, the only reason he didn’t just spontaneously spawn in Ronnie’s room tonight is because he’s currently on bed-rest because he has the self-preservation skills of a wet paper bag. ”

Lance raises an eyebrow. “You guys are all disasters, did you know that?”

“Well, yeah, that’s, like, a requirement for being queer. But still. Just…remember that you have people, okay?”

“You mean I have my sister and her annoying friends?”

“Go to bed, brat.” He heads back towards the stairs, shaking his head like he’s despairing over the state of the youth these days.

Lance grins and unlocks his door to slip inside. He’s still panicking, but his stomach has settled.

Chapter Text

Shiro knows that Adam is avoiding him. He’d definitely claim that he’s just busy and he’s not intentionally avoiding anyone. But you don’t know someone for most of your life and not learn how to tell when they’re mad at you, so Shiro is absolutely certain that he’s being avoided. Another sure sign that he’s being avoided is the fact that, after day two, his friends start giving him looks . And after day four, Curtis bluntly asks if they’re fighting, citing the fact that “I never see Adam this much without seeing you too unless you’re fighting”, which is also a lovely way to find out that his fiance’s been crashing in his friend’s room because he’s that pissed off. 

The clincher is day five, when Keith marches up to him while he’s sitting on a bench contemplating his life choices, throws his bag down on the ground, and declares, “Ya’ll’ve gotta talk to each other. ‘S drivin’ me crazy. Seriously, ya’ll’re just wanderin’ around with these godawful hang dog expressions on all your faces.”

“That was an incredibly Southern sentence, kiddo.” Shiro knows he’s being a little bit of a dick right now. “Damn.”

“Seriously, Takashi, get a grip. Why’re ya’ll fightin’ anyway?”

Shiro does not want to discuss the details of his fight with a child. And he knows that Keith is also coping with Shiro’s recent relapse, and he really doesn’t want to tell him about the morbid train of thought that he’s been on.

“I was an insensitive jerk and he was an asshole. And now he’s pissed and avoiding me, so I haven’t been able to apologize for my part.” Shiro sighs. “That’s all.”

Keith nods like this is what he’d expected, then sits down next to him. “Ya’ll fought while you were sick?”

“Yeah. We did. It’ll be okay, but we need to talk and he’s currently…not wanting to do that.”

“Oh.”

“It’ll be okay,” Shiro says, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry it’s been stressing you out.”

“‘M fine.”

“Course you are.”

Keith snorts, but he leans into the touch. “Damn straight. He’s sittin’ in his office bickerin’ with Curtis right now.”

Shiro sighs and pats the kid on the shoulder. “Thanks, bud.”

He gets up and starts towards the admin building. As he approaches the office, he slows down, suddenly unsure of how he’s actually going to deal with this. He can hear the sound of something that isn’t quite an argument coming from the office.

“Or I could just run away and become a desert hermit.” Adam is saying darkly. “Seems like a better lot in life.”

“Hermits do math too.” Curtis sounds done. 

“Burning up on reentry’s still an option, right?”

“Yes, please commit suicide in that brilliantly dramatic way. I’m already imagining the safety briefing that will ensue. It’s honestly starting to become preferable to interacting with you on a daily basis.”

Shiro has some questions about this, but he also has priorities, so he taps politely on the door.  He can already imagine the stare-down going on between the two, with Curtis looking wildly unimpressed and Adam doing his dead-eyed stare while they refuse to break eye contact. He has no idea why they do this, but they’ve done it for as long as they’ve been friends. 

“Come in,” Adam says after a second, no doubt giving their friend a warning glare, as though that’s ever stopped him from being a little shit. 

Taking a deep breath, Shiro opens the door. Curtis takes one look at him, seems to sigh in relief, and starts gathering his stuff, no doubt hoping to get out of the way of this impending conversation. Adam crosses his arms and leans back in his chair angrily. There’s an awkward silence as Curtis snatches up his tablet and books and nearly trips getting out of his seat. 

He does pause in the door to give them both a disapproving look. “Fix your shit, guys. Seriously, I want my life back.”

He shuts the door behind himself without anything else, which is a small mercy.

Adam clears his throat and raises a questioning eyebrow.

“So I would like to point out that this time you’re the one avoiding a conversation,” Shiro says. He regrets it instantly, but, well, in for a penny. “And you give me a hard time about avoidance issues.”

“You’re doing a great job reinforcing that decision, Takashi.” Adam says flatly.

Shiro sighs. “Yeah, I know. Keith’s worried about us.”

“That kid.” Adam snorts, but his eyes are fond. Then they meet his and turn stormy again. “So…what? You’re here because our resident gremlin child’s stressed out?”

“No! I’m here because I want to be. Keith just told me where to find you, since you’ve been avoiding me.”

“I’m not—”

“You are, ” Shiro interjects, but he keeps his voice gentle. “But I think you’re entitled to it. I, uh, I was a dick.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You are important to me. And I, uh, I know I didn’t express it well that night. I’m so sorry that I didn’t say it sooner and that I made you think I value my career over you. I was—”

“I was a dick too,” Adam says suddenly. “It wasn’t the time or place to be having that conversation, and I’m sorry for that.”

Shiro sighs and nods. “Yeah, it was definitely a dick move. But, uh, you were right that I’d probably have run away if I could’ve.”

“I’m aware. You’ve been avoiding it for literal years now, ‘Kashi. But I, uh, I think that we really need to have it. Just. Maybe not the way I tried to do it.”

“Oh, just maybe?”

“Okay, definitely not that way.”

“Yeah. Okay,” Shiro holds up his hands and grimaces. “So I already hate what I’m about to say, but…maybe we should try, like, couple’s counseling? Or get a mediator? You know?”

Adam squints thoughtfully. “Yeah, I hate it too. But…I mean, it’s worth a shot? Right?”

Shiro nods. “Yes.” And then, because it’s been a little bit, “I love you, Adam.”

“I love you too.”

Chapter Text

The first Friday of September, Lance wakes up with a mild sense of dread. He and Keith have finished documenting light measurements on base, and Keith suggested that they tackle the desert measurements next, saying that they can use a hover to go out away from the lights and that he’ll get an officer to sign them out and escort them for it. Of course, when Lance had agreed, he hadn’t thought about the logistics. But then the night before, Keith had suggested that he just sleep over. And Lance had assumed that meant in his dorm. But, Keith had quickly clarified, he meant at his house. Keith’s house. Which, Lance has gathered, is also Shiro and Adam’s house. He’s too freaked out to decide what part of this stresses him out the most.

Keith’s lounging on the steps of the dorm building when he makes it outside after classes, duffle bag in hand. Keith perks up considerably and gives Lance a grin when their eyes meet. Lance waves shyly.

“Ya’ll ready?” Keith asks, bouncing to his feet and jumping down the stairs. 

Lance nods. “Yep! Um, you’re sure that they’ll be okay with this?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t they be?” 

He shrugs, because he can’t really come up with a reason beyond “it’s probably annoying to have your student barging in on a weekend”.  Keith shrugs back, then starts marching down the street, expecting Lance to follow (which he does, because he’s definitely smitten). They walk down the road until it forks, then turn towards the base housing, quickly entering the rows of cookie-cutter houses. 

Keith navigates confidently through the streets, before nodding towards one of the nondescript houses. “This is it.”

“It” is a beige house with an attached garage and a tiny front yard. Keith marches up the front door and shoves it open easily, waving for Lance to follow. The entryway is tight, with a few sets of shoes lined up against one wall. Keith starts taking his own shoes off, so Lance mimics him. 

“Hey, I’m stealin’ Adam’s telescope!” Keith shouts, still untying his shoes. “And Lance is here!”

“Stop shouting in the house,” Adam shouts from somewhere in the house. “Hi, Lance!”

Lance isn’t sure if he should shout a greeting back or not. 

Keith straightens up and grabs Lance’s duffle, slinging it over his shoulder. “C’mon, I’ll show ya around.”

The short entry hallway leads into a living room and dining room combination, with a small kitchen to the right. Keith turns left, heading down another hallway. He opens the first door, nodding down the hall as he does. 

“Middle door’s the bathroom. Then Shiro and Adam’s room. And this one,” he waves at the closest room with a flourish. “Is mine.”

Lance isn’t sure what he expected, probably something like the utilitarian and slightly barren dorm room. But Keith’s room here is, for lack of a better word, homey. There’s a few posters for some old movies, a bookshelf that’s overflowing with books, and a bed with rumpled, fluffy blankets and about ten pillows piled on it. A desk is shoved up against one wall, with an ancient lava lamp and more books sitting in teetering stacks. There’s a corkboard there too, with even more notes on it. And on the ceiling…

“Are those glow-in-the-dark stars?”

Keith shrugs and tosses the duffle bag on the bed, sending several pillows toppling to the floor. “Yeah. They’re neat.”

Lance moves to pick up the pillows, then picks up a stuffed animal that must’ve fallen with them instead. “Oh! I didn’t know that they made stuffed hippos.”

The other boy flushes and snatches the toy out of his hands. “Give me that!”

“Rude.” Lance scoffs, then, trying to make peace, asks, “What’s its name?”

This gets him another shrug as Keith carefully places the hippo toy on the desk, face still red. He frowns at the toy, shoulders hunched in what can only be described as a defensive posture. 

Lance makes his voice gentle. “Hey, it’s okay to have stuffed animals, you know. I have a bunch back home, and I brought my favorite—it’s this stuffed dog named Ringo, he lives under my pillow in the dorms.”

“It doesn’t have a name,” Keith mutters, but his shoulders relax some. “‘S just a hippo.”

“My sister never names her toys either,” Lance says easily. “So where am I sleeping?”

Keith seems to be thankful for this change in topics. “There’s an air mattress. Shiro’s supposed to pull it out later, no one else seems to know where it got to.”

“Cool.”

“Let’s go see if we can find the telescope.” Keith opens the door, hollering, “Adam! Is your stuff still in the garage?”

There’s the sound of music and dishes clattering floating from down the hall. Adam doesn’t answer, either ignoring Keith or unable to hear him over the noise. 

Keith sighs and looks annoyed. “C’mon.”

Lance trails behind as they head back out and into the kitchen, where Adam’s digging through cabinets, humming along to music. The man glances over at them and squints suspiciously. 

“What’re you up to?”

Keith rolls his eyes. “Is your stuff still in the garage?”

“Depends on what you’re looking for. Lance, you have any dietary restrictions I need to know about?”

Lance shakes his head no.

“Cool. Keith, I have no idea where the telescope is, but if you’re gonna go digging through the garage, please try to avoid being bitten by any spiders this time.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Keith scoffs. “That was one time .”

“Already one time too many.” Adam sighs, then tilts his head thoughtfully. “Actually, there’s a good chance that the telescope is no longer on the premises. I kinda have vague memories of loaning it out to someone.”

Keith groans and walks through the kitchen towards a door that Lance is assuming leads into the garage. “You’re useless.”

“And you’re annoying. Dinner’ll be ready in about an hour.”

The garage is an interesting mishmash of boxes, random car parts, and a couple of hoverbikes. The heat is almost oppressive inside, making the smell of dust and motor oil thick and heady. Keith stops in the doorway and frowns thoughtfully. 

Lance scans the room and comes to a quick conclusion. “Um, okay, I don’t see a telescope. Or anything telescope sized and shaped.”

“Yeah,” Keith sighs. “I also have vague memories of him loanin’ it to someone.”

“Crap.”

“Yeah. Well,” Keith spins around and shouts through the door. “Hey, any chance you loaned it to Curtis?”

There’s some clattering, and Adam shouts back. “Yeah, that sounds right. I’ll text him, maybe he can hand it off to Shiro before he leaves.”

Keith nods approvingly, then pivots back around to survey the garage. “Well, we might as well check out the boxes, jus’ t’ be sure. If nothin’ else, we might find somethin’ interestin’.”

Shiro’s got his forehead pressed against the kitchen table when they come back inside an hour later, either asleep or wishing he was. Adam’s still in the kitchen, stirring something in a pot and glaring disapprovingly at it. Keith marches up and starts poking Shiro on the shoulder.

“What?” Shiro mutters after a few seconds of poking, not opening his eyes. “And why can’t Adam do it?”

Adam glances up and frowns in annoyance, before returning his focus to the pot. Keith continues poking Shiro. 

“Oh my God, why?” The man groans. He turns his head to the side and opens his eyes irritably. “What do you want?”

“Air mattress and telescope?”

“What telescope?”

Keith groans and glares at Adam. “Why couldn’t you marry someone who’s less slow?”

“Because he’s cute.” Adam grins and waggles his eyebrows. “Amongst other reasons.”

“ Gross.”

“Well you asked. Set the table please.”

Muttering mutinously, Keith does as directed. After a moment’s hesitation, Lance takes a seat next to Shiro, hoping to stay out of the way. Shiro blinks at him tiredly for a moment, then sighs and sits up. 

“Hey Lance, how’re you doing?”

“Um, pretty good. I’m sorry that you had a bad day.”

“Thanks.” Shiro grins a little. “So you guys are going stargazing?”

“We need to borrow a hover,” Keith calls over his shoulder, standing on tiptoe to pull plates out of the cabinet. “Gotta go out a ways.”

Adam bustles in and sets a pot on the table, frowning. “You want to borrow one of our bikes so you can go out into the middle of nowhere in the desert in the middle of the night…alone?”

“Yes?”

“Absolutely not.”

Keith groans and puts the plates down with a clatter. “Come on! It’s for a school project.”

Shiro and Adam exchange looks, clearly doing that silent communication thing couples do. After a second, Shiro sighs and rubs at his eyes tiredly. 

“Fine. We’ll go out tonight.”

“I can go alone!” Keith looks genuinely offended. “I’ve been out there plenty of times.”

Adam rolls his eyes. “Yeah, but not at night. And Lance has never been out there. We’re not letting you go wandering around in the desert at some unholy hour without adult supervision. That’s, like, so fucking irresponsible, I don’t even know how to describe it.”

“Language!” Shiro frowns. 

Adam flips him off and returns to grab a second pot from the stove. Keith scoffs and grabs silverware, tossing it all onto the table before sitting down across from Lance, still looking offended. A second later, Adam joins them, setting the pot down with just as much aggression. Shiro looks vaguely amused at the passive aggressive displays. He grins conspiratorially at Lance and hands him a fork.

Dinner is a relatively calm affair, aside from several quick, rapid-fire exchanges in Japanese that seem to mostly be insults and one argument over who’s doing the dishes. Lance suspects that they’re mostly using English for his benefit, which makes him feel several conflicting emotions. Eventually, dinner ends and Shiro starts on the dishes, still muttering complaints in English and Japanese.

Adam rolls his eyes and checks his phone. “So it would appear that I did loan the telescope to Curtis, but he’s not sure where it is right now. Can you get through tonight without it? Or is this, like, an actual emergency?”

“We’ll survive,” Keith shrugs. “Jus’ thought it’d be cool to do some stargazin’, since Lance’s never been out there at night.”

“Well, maybe next time. You two have homework?”

“Nope!” Keith lies with a straight face. He hops out of his chair and drags Lance out of his. “We’re gonna go blow up the air mattress.”

Adam clearly recognizes the lie, but he rolls his eyes and returns to his phone without comment. Lance is sincerely hoping that he didn’t notice how Keith’s holding his hand as they head for his bedroom. 

The rest of the night is spent in a strangely comfortable domesticity: they get the air mattress blown up and dig out some blankets, then spend the evening watching an ancient television show until Shiro announces that he’s going to kill himself if he hears the theme song one more time, at which point they play video games until around nine. Apparently, that’s the official bedtime if they’re going to be spending hours in the desert after midnight. Keith mutters that it’s really the official bedtime because Adam and Shiro are old and boring, and gets smacked in the head with a pillow.

But thirty minutes later, Lance finds himself lying on an air mattress in the dark, staring up at the glow-in-the-dark constellations on the ceiling. It’s not uncomfortable, but Lance’s brain is racing and there’s no way he’s going to sleep anytime soon.

After counting to five hundred in his head, he sighs and rolls over to stare at the vague outline of the bed. “Hey, thanks for setting this up.”

Keith’s voice floats up from somewhere in the nest of blankets. “No problem.”

“So, um, I never go to bed this early.”

“Yeah, sorry ‘bout that. I think Shiro’s jus’ tryin’ t’ get some extra sleep ‘cuz he’s still feelin’ a li’l under the weather.”

“No worries. Um, so…two truths and a lie?”

“Huh?” There’s a rustling sound and Keith’s voice sounds less muffled. “You what?”

“Two truths and a lie?” There’s an awkward pause, so Lance elaborates. “Y’know, the classic sleepover game? You tell two truths and a lie and the other person guesses which is which?”

“I’ve never played it.” The confession sounds like it’s been spat out between clenched teeth.

Lance blinks up at the ceiling. “Oh. Well, what games did you play at sleepovers?”

“Never had one.”

“Oh. Really?”

“Nope.”

“Well,” Lance thinks for a second. “We’ll make this into one then. So. Two truths and a lie. I once got stung by a tarantula hawk wasp, I’ve got four siblings, and I broke my arm falling out of a tree when I was six.”

“Um…okay?”

“Now you guess which one is the lie.”

There’s an audible confusion to the reply. “Why?”

“Because it’s fun. So...”

Keith huffs and shifts noisily. “The wasp one.”

“Nope! I’ve never broken my arm.”

“Really?”

Lance smirks. “Yeah, I know it’s hard to believe. Okay, now you go.”

“Um…I…dunno.”

“Come on! You can do this. Just say two true things about yourself and one thing that’s not true.”

“Um…I have black hair, I’m a pilot, and I live in North Dakota?”

It takes actual willpower to keep from facepalming. “ Keeeeiiittthhh, come on! You can do better than that!”

“But that was—”

“Yeah, I mean, technically that was right. But you gotta make them harder! Try again.”

“Oh-kay. Um, I learned how to drive when I was five, I, uh, I think I’ve had like ten broken bones, and, um…I rode a horse once.”

Lance will be the first to admit that those are all really good. “I know I’m not from the mainland, but, um, I’m pretty sure that it’s very illegal to teach preschoolers to drive. But I also really don’t think you could’ve possibly broken that many bones. You’re from Texas, isn’t horse riding a thing there?”

“Um—”

“Bupbupbup,” Lance holds up a hand, realizes it’s too dark for Keith to see, and adds. “Don’t interrupt or tell me. Guessing is half the fun! Okay, so it’s gotta be a toss up between the bones and the driving. I have seen you get into several fights and I remember Shiro and Adam both confirming that you’ve had a lot of broken bones, so…I’m saying that there’s no way you learned how to drive at age five.”

“So…do I answer now?”

“Yep.”

“I have literally never been near a horse in my life. Actually, they kinda freak me out.” Keith’s definitely grinning as he says this. 

Lance splutters, then finally gets out a horrified response. “You were driving when you were five??? ”

“Yeah, I mean, I couldn’t reach the pedals, but my dad let me steer ‘n showed me how t’ put it in gear ‘n stuff.”

“Holy shit. Texans are insane. And horses are really cool, I’m definitely gonna make you ride one one day. Okay, my turn! So…I have been to five different countries, I once ate a ghost pepper on a dare, and I have never seen snow.”

Keith hums consideringly. “I don’t think you’ve been to that many countries. You are definitely the kinda guy who’d eat a spicy pepper on a dare.”

“Hey, you got it! Man, the snow one usually throws people.”

“I’ve never seen snow either,” Keith replies easily. “Saw some heavy frost, but never snow. How often have you played this game?”

“Oh, all the time. I have a big family, so we were always having sleepovers at each other’s houses. And then Hunk and I played it a lot when we were first assigned as roommates. And Pidge’s slept over a few times and we played it then too. It’s a fun game!”

“S’pose.”

“So, um, feel free to tell me to fuck off,” Lance says, because he’s dying to ask but also doesn’t want to piss Keith off. “But how have you never had a sleepover? That’s, like, a childhood staple!”

Keith sighs. “Never really had friends to have them with. My turn again?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” That’ll give Lance time to die of embarrassment. 

“Okay, I’ve lived in four different states, I got arrested for vandalism once, and when I was younger, I got suspended for sleeping in class too much.”

Lance frowns. “Um…I honestly have no idea. Can you actually get suspended for sleeping too much? Like, is that a thing?”

“Do…I answer that?”

“Yeah, I give up.”

“I got suspended for sleeping in class too much in fourth grade. I was already on probation because I’d gotten into a fight, and then I kept falling asleep and they got tired of it.”

“So they kicked a nine-year-old out of school for sleeping? That’s bull! Why were you so tired anyway? Were you sick or?”

“I, uh, I wasn’t sleepin’ so good in that placement, kept fallin’ asleep at school instead.” Lance opens his mouth to say something, closes it, goes to try again, and is very thankful when Keith continues. “The lie was the vandalism. Never was my style.”

“Um.” Lance clears his throat. “That was a good one. I’m surprised you never tried graffiti though, you’re pretty good at drawing.”

“Oh, I tried it. Just never got into it.”

Lance snorts in amusement. “I see. So vehicle theft was a yes, but spray paint was a no go?”

“Cars go fast, paint doesn’t.” He can almost hear Keith’s shrug. “‘Sides, if you’re gonna risk jail time, go big or go home.” Keith pauses, then adds. “Ironically, neither Shiro nor Adam found that statement funny. And since both of them nearly got expelled for stealin’ Garrison vehicles, I think that’s mighty hypocritical.”

That…is a lot to unpack. Lance decides to hum in agreement and force his brain away from potentially upsetting conversation topics. After a few seconds, he finds something. “Okay, cats or dogs?”

“Huh?”

“Which one’s better?”

“Why do I have to choose? They’re both good.”

“That’s fair,” he admits. “I like both too.”

“Then why even ask?”

“Just trying to make conversation! Okay, summer or winter?”

“Um, I like spring?”

“Fine. Favorite food?”

Keith makes a confused sound.

“Mine’s garlic knots. Sweet or sour candy?”

“Um, sour. What about your favorite season?”

“I love summers.” Lance stifles a yawn. “So, what time are we waking up?”

“Prolly quarter til midnight. Shiro’ll come get us, prolly be annoyin’ as fuck in the process. We should try to get some sleep.”

–

As promised, Shiro does wake them up a little before midnight in an extremely annoying way. He flips the lights on and starts barking orders at them like a drill sergeant until a sleepy complaint is shouted from the direction of his own bedroom, at which point he grins and informs them that he is leaving with or without them in ten minutes. 

Keith groans and rolls onto the floor with a thud. “Fuckin’ hate it when he does that.”

Lance hums sleepily and starts untangling himself from the blankets. Somehow he gets up, and, ten minutes later, finds himself sitting on the back of a hoverbike and clinging onto Keith for dear life as they careen through pitch-black desert at nearly 90 miles an hour. Shiro’s directly ahead of them, and Keith is managing to keep pace with little effort, which is good, given that it’s so dark out that Shiro nearly disappears when they’re not right on top of him. Lance can definitely see why they were so hesitant to let Keith come out here alone, he is absolutely certain that they’d have gotten lost and ended up stranded if they didn’t have someone to follow. 

Honestly, with the wind rushing through his hair and Keith radiating warmth against him, stars glittering overhead in incredible numbers, that doesn’t sound too bad.

Chapter Text

The week is a blur, and before Lance knows it, he’s meeting Keith on the stairs again to walk to his house. 

This time, Keith pauses as they near the house, clearly counting the vehicles. “Looks like there’s company. And, uh, I also just remembered that Shiro’s cookin’ tonight, so, like, we might die. Or it’ll be good. It’s always a toss up with him.”

Lance nods solemnly and follows him inside. Judging by the extra shoes and the sound of several people talking at once, he’d say that Keith was correct. 

Shiro’s voice drifts in from the dining room. “So does one of you want to tell me why I spent two hours in a safety briefing learning about how we should never ever under any circumstances use wrenches as anything aside from tools?”

“I don’t know why you think we’d know anything about that.” Adam sounds very confused.

At the same time, someone else says, “It wasn’t two hours, don’t exaggerate.”

Lance and Keith both round the corner in time to see Shiro level a disbelieving stare at the group at the table. Adam rolls his eyes, and Matt and Curtis both shrug. Keith grins and goes to lean against Adam, hooking his chin over the man’s shoulder as he stares curiously at his brother. 

“I’d think that,” Shiro is saying slowly. “Because I’ve seen all three of you use the wrenches for ‘unintended’ purposes this week.” He makes air quotes with his fingers as he talks. 

Curtis shrugs again. “Like you haven’t.”

“Yeah, you definitely never do stupid shit.” Matt deadpans.

Adam’s too busy actively snickering to say anything. Shiro frowns disapprovingly at him, and he quickly schools his face into a semi-serious expression. 

“I also got a separate lecture from Iverson about keeping my squad under control,” Shiro says, still looking disapproving. “And that drastically narrows my suspect pool. Mostly down to you two, because Matt is not a member of my squad and on Tuesday morning you,” he points at Adam, “were actively using the wrenches for a lightsaber fight. And you,” Curtis looks like he’s contemplating biting the finger being leveled at him, “like to use them as a hammer instead of using more than one tool.”

Adam coughs to cover up a laugh, then regains control. “Weird, because you were definitely supposed to be teaching a class at that time.”
“So you admit it!”

“I admit that I know your schedule, yes.”

“I have literally never participated in a lightsaber duel,” Curtis muses, waving at Lance. “Hey, Lance, how willing would you be to let me cover you in fake blood next week?”

Lance doesn’t get to answer because Shiro snaps his fingers. “Hey! Focus up!”

“What.”

“Safety briefing, Imari! The safety briefing you almost definitely caused.”

“Y’know, I had to sit through it too, I dunno why you’re acting like a victim here.”

“Because that was two hours of my life you cost me!”

Adam clears his throat. “Babe, did you know that we both kept track of every safety briefing you were directly responsible for since high school?”

Shiro sputters, then chokes out, “There’s no way—”

Curtis slides his phone over, a spreadsheet pulled up on the screen. Shiro’s jaw drops as Matt starts cackling hysterically. 

Adam smirks. “Curtis, what was the final count as of last week?”

“Ooohhh, three hundred and eight. Give or take.” He grins lazily and leans back in his chair, leaving the phone for Shiro to stare at. “Not counting ones that we also had a hand in.”

“Wouldn’t want to skew the results,” Matt says, still laughing. “Very scientific.”

“We’re professionals, Matthew.”

Shiro is still spluttering. 

“Now, does that include all of the shit from his time doing deep space research or just the squad stuff?” Matt cranes his neck to get a better look at the small screen.

Curtis shrugs. “Ninety-percent of those are either the fault of several guilty parties. Not worth keeping track of.”

“Didn’t he concuss someone a few weeks ago?” Adam asks, smirking at the indignant noises Shiro’s still making. “That definitely should’ve warranted a safety briefing.”

“Yeah, but Jason never bothered to report it. It would’ve been so much extra work. And it was barely a concussion anyway.”

“You worry me sometimes, Imari.”

“It wasn’t my concussion!”

Shiro finally gets out a coherent sentence. “I can’t believe you guys have a spreadsheet!”

“I can’t believe you didn’t consider that we’d have taken steps to combat your hypocritical accusations!” Adam scoffs, then grins over at Lance. “How’s physics going?”

“I hate it,” Lance replies amiably. 

“Ah, I’ve been there. Actually, I am there…” he trails off with a haunted expression. 

Keith snickers and unhooks his chin, standing up straight and giving the guests a very judgemental look. “Did you bring back the telescope?”

“Hello to you too,” Curtis mutters, taking back his phone from Shiro, who’s still staring in shock at the screen. “So nice to see you, how have you been, what brings you here?”

“I live here. You don’t.”

“Thank Allah for that. It’s in the garage, you’re welcome.”

Keith nods approvingly, then turns his attention to Matt. “Why’re you here?”

“I wanted to watch Adam’s slow spiral into insanity, and then Shiro mentioned his whole safety briefing theory, and I felt driven to show up early and witness that conversation.” 

Adam slumps down onto the table, cradling his head in his arms. “I’m gonna become a hermit. Hermits don’t have to keep redoing their equations because one integer is off.”

“Hermits don’t get to fly jets,” Curtis says helpfully, patting him on the back. “So there’s that.”

“Hermits don’t have to understand theoretical physics either, and that sounds pretty appealing to me right now,” comes a muffled reply.

Shiro finally seems to have recovered from his shock. “I’m not becoming a hermit with you. I like civilization.”

“Fucking traitor.”

Keith pats the man on the back sympathetically. “I’ll go be a hermit with you, I already got a place in the desert!”

“Keith is my favorite person now, the rest of you are dead to me.”

“So I don’t have to keep helping you with your dumbass equation then, right?” Curtis asks, not bothering to look up from his phone. “But seriously, Lance, can I please use you as a mass casualty for the next installment of ‘being forced to teach first aid’?”

“Do I have to do anything?” Lance will definitely be agreeing either way, but he wants to at least play it semi-cool.
“Pretend to be dying so we can all discuss triage. It’ll be fun.”

Shiro frowns confusedly. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I’m teaching a class.”

“ Why?”

“Because the world hates me very much, obviously.”

Adam, apparently revived by the chance to mock his friend’s pain, lifts his head up and smirks. “They changed his degree program at the last minute, now he has to teach upperclassmen basic field first aid.”

“Only because you wouldn’t trade classes with me!”

“For the last time, that was never an option! And, honestly, I think you’re more qualified to teach it than I am. You actually paid attention to that stuff.”

“Sorry,” Shiro says, clearly still digesting this information. “I just…you…teaching?”

This piecemeal sentence unites both men by providing a new target, and Shiro’s confusion is met with obvious amusement. Lance spares a quick glance towards Matt, who’s grinning gleefully and glancing from party to party with clear enjoyment. 

“Yes, we established that I am teaching,” Curtis says condescendingly. “I am teaching first aid. It is going.”

Adam snorts. “It is definitely going.”

“Just… why? ”

“Adam, you need to consider whether or not you want to be married to this for the rest of your lives,” Keith chimes in. “You could do better.”

“Thanks, fetus, I appreciate the feedback. ‘Kashi, any chance you could snap out of your stupor in time to feed the kids before they go feral?”

“Oh, yeah.” Shiro seems grateful to have a new direction for his focus. “Sure. Um, Lance, anything you can’t or won’t eat?”

Lance, who’s been watching all of this like it’s a sitcom, suddenly remembers that he’s actually not watching a show. “Uh, no? Um…I’m not a huge fan of, like, pickled foods.”

“Okay, I can work with that.”

Matt scoffs. “You’re not gonna ask the rest of us?”

“You don’t eat super tomatoey dishes and Curtis is allergic to shellfish. Now shut up and either help them with whatever math they’re doing, or be pressed into service as a bus boy.”

“It’s not an allergy, exactly,” Curtis protests while helping to wheel in a giant whiteboard from out of nowhere. “It’s more like—”

“You literally break out in hives and your tongue swells up.” Adam interjects, locking the wheels of the whiteboard. “What exactly would you classify that as, Imari?”

“I’m still alive.”

“Yeah, because we have these magical things called epi-pens. I will not allow you to traumatize these children like you traumatized me back in freshman year.”

“You literally suck all the fun out of life, did you know that? Okay! Who here has the best whiteboard handwriting?”

It turns out that Lance has the best handwriting, and he’s very confused as to how he’s been roped into this. Keith grins encouragingly and sprawls onto one of the kitchen chairs, flashing him a quick thumbs up. Lance flips him off as soon as he thinks the adults aren’t looking. Given the conspiratorial grin Matt gives him the next time they make eye contact, he probably didn’t time it well enough. 

After writing out what may be one of the longest equations that he has ever written, Lance clears his throat. “Um, what is this for?”

“Adam’s supposed to be figuring out how to get the new X-series fighters to reenter without killing anyone. It’s been a month and he still has yet to manage this. We’re all very concerned,” Curtis replies, showcasing that concern by grinning smugly at Adam.

“Oh. Um, is that something I need to know how to do?” Lance sincerely hopes it is not. He honestly doesn’t recognize half of the symbols he’s just written out. 

Adam sighs and glares at the board. “Depends on what you want to specialize in and what you major in.”

“If you go into certain types of R&D or if you want to do test flights, yes. If you want to do deep space or if you want to become a flight instructor, probably not,” Curtis squints at the board like that’ll make things clearer. “If you make a huge mistake and make friends with a test pilot and also work in R&D, definitely. Matt, are you seeing anything? Please tell me that you can bring this nightmare to an end.”

Keith chuckles and leans further back in his chair. In the kitchen, Shiro drops a pan and swears violently in Japanese. Lance looks around for a chair, realizes that Keith took the last empty one, and decides to do something stupid. He marches over and shoves Keith’s legs down and sits on him. Keith makes a protesting sound, but doesn’t fight back. After a second, he squirms until he can sit up and rest his chin on Lance’s shoulder. 

Lance knows that this is a bad idea, and it’s cemented when Curtis, who’s definitely avoiding the math by repeatedly glancing into the kitchen, notices this and gives Lance a very knowing smirk. Lance, who is fairly confident that Garrison rules are not in effect right now, flips him off. The smirk turns into an even more knowing grin. He will definitely hear about this later, Lance realizes with a sense of doom. It suddenly occurs to him that Adam might’ve noticed too, but a furtive glance tells him that the man is too far into a math-based spiral of despair to notice anything. Small favors.

Keith sighs suddenly, then murmurs in his ear. “What’re you thinkin’ of doin’ when you graduate?”

“Um,” Lance shifts awkwardly, keeping his voice pitched low to match. “I dunno yet. Definitely not gonna do anything that involves that kinda math. You?”

“Space exploration. It sounds incredible.”

Lance nods. “It really does. I’m kinda choosing between that and, like, teaching? I like kids and I loved teaching my cousins and niece and nephew how to do things.”

“I think you’d be good at it.”

“Thanks, mullet.”

Keith snorts and jabs a finger into his ribs hard enough to make Lance jump. There’s some more crashing from the kitchen and a loud groan from Shiro. Everyone turns to look at the slowly growing puddle of something orange and Shiro, who’s staring at the ceiling like he’s praying to be smote by whatever deity will listen. 

After a second, he sighs and looks at the audience. “Okay, we are having pizza.”

As soon as Shiro’s ordered the pizza and cleaned up the kitchen, he drapes himself over the back of Adam’s chair and starts offering relatively unhelpful input. Which, to be fair, puts him on par with everyone else in the room, as no one seems to be able to figure out what exactly is going wrong. Every now and then, someone comes up with a suggestion, and they pull out a tablet and test it using the program. Every time, something goes wrong when the vessel enters the atmosphere, usually resulting in a fiery explosion. The best outcome thus far was when the ship managed to crash violently into the ocean, where it disintegrated on impact. 

“How did it even end up in the ocean? It re-entered over Arizona!” Matt looks absolutely confused as he replays the latest test over and over.

Adam groans and yanks his glasses off to rub furiously at his eyes. 

Shiro gently pries the glasses out of his hand and kisses him on the forehead. “I mean, technically it made it back into the atmosphere. That should count.”

“The goal is for the pilot to walk away alive, Takashi.”

“Yeah, it’s especially important,” Curtis adds, still staring at the board with hollow eyes. “Given that he will, in fact, be that pilot. Please don’t make me sit there and listen to him burn up on reentry. It would be very traumatic for me.”

Shiro concedes the point and doesn’t try to say anything comforting again. After a few minutes, he pulls out a deck of cards and starts up a game with Lance and Keith. The other three continue trying different variables, punctuated by the occasional curse and several instances of aggressive marker throwing.

Around the time the pizza arrives, Matt suddenly crows in excitement and starts erasing half of the equation. Adam perks up and stares intently, while Curtis gazes into the middle distance, eyes unfocused, apparently checked out of reality. Shiro returns from getting the pizza, skirting around the whiteboard to set the pizza down carefully. He’s got one eye on the man at the whiteboard as he gestures for Lance and Keith to grab some food. He puts a slice on a plate and hands it to Adam silently, apparently wary of breaking whatever trance everyone’s fallen into. Adam takes the slice without looking away from what Matt’s doing on the board. 

This accomplished, Shiro nods in satisfaction, then grabs himself a slice. After a moment, he grabs a loose pepper packet and tosses it into the back of Curtis’s head. The man jerks around and stares at him like he’s some sort of alien. Shiro mouths the word “eat” and points at the pizza boxes. Curtis blinks a few times, then moves to grab his own slice.

Shiro grins and turns his focus back to the board.

Matt finishes off his equation with a flourish and whirls around. “Okay, try this one! Ooo, pizza!”

“Maybe call it a night if this doesn’t work,” Shiro suggests around a mouthful of pizza. “I think you guys are heading for a mental breakdown if you don’t stop soon.”

Adam’s too busy using one hand to input the info into the program and cramming his pizza into his mouth with the other to respond. Matt is shoveling pizza into his mouth at an alarming rate, and Curtis is staring at the screen with great intensity, pizza already forgotten.  Shiro rolls his eyes and continues inhaling his slice of pizza. 

Keith snatches a second piece and grins conspiratorially at Lance. “They’re all nerds.”

Lance nods solemnly and grabs another slice. 

“So who drew the short straw today?” Keith turns his attention towards the only adult not in a math trance. “You or him?”

Shiro shrugs. “Don’t think we’ve decided yet. You have a preference?”

Keith shrugs noncommittally and chews on a crust. 

“Oh my God, it worked!!!” Adam shouts, looking like he’s had a religious experience. “Oh my fucking God!!!”

Curtis snatches the tablet and starts replaying the test, grinning gleefully. Matt makes what can only be described as a squeal of delight, throwing himself forward to stare at the screen. Shiro straightens up and moves to join the huddle, a smile already growing on his own face. Adam elbows Matt over and yanks the tablet towards himself so he can see better, as though wanting to confirm that he wasn’t hallucinating. 

Lance tries to crane his neck to watch without getting up. Keith chews thoughtfully and tilts his head, watching the huddle with mild interest. It’s obvious when the sim finishes, because all four men start cheering and shouting like spectators at a sports game instead of a group of nerds watching a math equation play out. 

“What did you change?” Shiro asks, patting Matt on the back enthusiastically.

“The ship’s wingspan and the angle of the vertical stabilizer. And then the angle of the flaps when gravity kicks back in and the rate of intake. You’ll also have to manually gauge the intake, because we don’t have software for that yet.”

“Oh, they’re gonna hate that,” Curtis mumbles, finally eating the pizza he’d set aside in the latest math trance. “They’ll have to do a complete redesign.”

Adam shrugs, still grinning at the tablet. “Who fucking cares? They wanted a solution, here it is. Matt, I love you so much right now.”

“Aw, thanks boo. Can you sub for me next Wednesday? I wanna go to a concert.”

“I don’t love you that much.”

“And he’s already teaching at that time,” Shiro adds, clearly hoping to prevent bickering. “I can do it, if you want.”

“You’re also teaching at that time.” Adam reminds him absently. “Keith, do me a favor and grab the Ranch dressing out, please?”

Keith makes a face of pure disgust but does as asked without complaint. Lance is instantly suspicious, because when is Keith ever that helpful? A few seconds later, he has his answer when Adam goes to shake the bottle and the lid flies off and salad dressing splatters the room and its occupants. 

Matt cackles, like being covered in salad dressing is hilarious and totally normal. Shiro is clearly trying to fight laughter while swiping dressing out of his eyes. Curtis seems to consider his options for a moment, then shrugs and uses his pizza crust to sop up some of the dressing that’s pooled on his shirt. Adam sighs and pulls his glasses off, contemplating the dressing smeared lenses. Keith licks some dressing off of his wrist and grins gleefully. 

“I should’ve expected that,” Adam sighs again and flicks some dressing in Keith’s general direction. “You’re cleaning it up.”

Keith scoffs indignantly. “You can’t prove it was me!”

“It was definitely you.” Shiro rolls his eyes and considers his dressing covered hands. “You’re definitely cleaning this up. We have guests, Keith.”

The guests seem to care very little about this. Curtis shrugs and grabs a slice of pizza, apparently unbothered by the fact that he’s wearing salad dressing as a new accessory. 

“It was hilarious,” Matt defends cheerfully, taking another slice. “Good going, Keith!”

“You guys wanna help him?” Shiro points a threatening finger at each of his friends. 

Several globs of Ranch dressing go flying at him, and he raises a hand to block them. Then, in an act of such immaturity that Lance is positive that he has to be hallucinating, he shoots a hand out and proceeds to grab Keith into a headlock and rubs the dressing into his hair. Keith squawks angrily and starts clawing at the arm around his neck. Shiro cackles and releases him, gently pushing the boy away and dashing to hide behind his fiance.

Adam groans and holds up his hands defensively. “Guys, please leave me out of it. I just wanted to eat my pizza. Lance, you good?”

Lance blinks, then realizes that he has salad dressing dribbling down his face. “Oh. Um, yeah. Yeah, sorry. I, uh, was just…not expecting that.”

“Oh, shit,” Keith looks genuinely contrite. “I’m sorry, Lance.”

“Oh, no, um, no problemo, it’s totally fine,” Lance says hastily, not wanting Keith to think he’s mad. “I mean, I have a big family, so, like, I’ve totally been covered in salad dressing before!”

Based on the very quiet “Wow.” he hears mumbled with barely concealed laughter in the general direction of the adults, he’s definitely not being normal enough. He makes a note to murder his sister’s friend later. Then Keith grins, clearly relieved, and oh, that’s a really good smile.

Chapter Text

Bedtime is still nine o’clock, and Keith complains loudly about it until Shiro sighs and pulls out a line that Lance has heard before from his parents: “Going out is a privilege, not a right.”

And so, once again, Lance finds himself staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars, wide awake in the dark. He sighs and flops over so he can stare at the darkness where he knows Keith is. 

“How long have you lived here?” Lance’s dumb mouth is at it again, apparently.

Keith sighs and blankets rustle as he shifts. “What?”

“I just…was wondering. Because, like, I checked, because…and, um, Shiro doesn’t have any siblings. But, I mean, obviously he does. ”

The silence is oppressive and he holds his breath.

“I met him when I was twelve,” Keith says carefully, diction perfect and precise. “I started staying here after my first semester. It’s the longest time I’ve ever stayed anywhere.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” 

Lance rolls his eyes, even though it’s pitch black in here. “I know that. But it still sucks.”
“Yeah.” It’s more of an exhale than a word. Keith shifts again, and his voice is hesitant. “They’re…nice.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Um, I’m not an easy kid. But Shiro’s never lost his temper or gotten tired of me. Neither has Adam. Well, actually, I think they’ve definitely gotten tired of me, but they’ve never wanted me gone. That’s…something.”

Oh, it’s something. It’s heartbreaking, that’s what it is. Lance feels his eyes stinging with unshed tears (he really needs to learn how to stop crying all the time), and he swipes irritably at his eyes. After a second, he sits up and carefully feels his way across the room to the bed. He pokes the blankets until he finds Keith.

The other boy jerks and sits up. “What?”

“I’m going to hug you now,” Lance declares. 

“Um, what? ”

It’s really hard to forcibly hug someone when you can barely see anything, so Lance ends up sort of tackle-hugging him back into the bedding. Keith squawks and struggles until he’s no longer underneath Lance, then lays there as stiff as a board. After a moment, he starts awkwardly patting Lance on the back. 

“You good?”  

Lance snorts and squeezes harder. “Yeah. I’m just…I’m glad you’re here and that we’re friends.”

“Oh,” Keith squeaks. “Um, me too.”

After a few seconds, the tension eases out of Keith’s body, and he squirms until he’s able to hug Lance back, face pressed into Lance’s shoulder. Lance blinks in surprise, especially when Keith seems to sort of melt into him, sighing softly. Some distant part of his brain is screaming “Abort, abort, you idiot!”, but instead, he shifts so he’s comfortable and relaxes into sleep.

Chapter Text

Shiro groans and rolls over, getting ready to force himself out of bed. Only two more weekends, he reminds himself mentally. Only two more weekends of this, then they’re done with this part of the project. Of course, then they’ll need an adult to accompany them into the city for four weekends, but Adam’s already agreed to do that (with the appropriate amount of bitching). 

“If you don’t turn the alarm off, I’m going to kill you,” Adam mutters into his pillow, ever the loving and supportive partner. 

“Fuck,” Shiro sighs and smacks the nightstand blindly, hoping to hit the phone before he breaks anything. “Why’d I agree to this?”

Adam huffs and doesn’t answer. Typical. 

Finally, he finds the phone and turns the alarm off. There’s a sigh of relief from the other side of the bed. Shiro rolls his eyes and sits up, feeling a little disoriented. It’s a little after midnight, and he’d really like to go back to bed. Sighing, he slides out of his very cozy bed and fumbles blindly until he finds some pants and socks. 

“I’ll be back in a few hours,” he promises. 

Adam grunts. 

Shiro shuts the door as quietly as possible and takes a second to try and wake up. Then he flips on the light and marches towards the bedroom. He opens the door gently—one thing he learned in the early days of Keith-wrangling was that the kid did not do well with doors being slammed—and pauses. The light from the hallway spills into the room, illuminating an empty air mattress. He frowns and takes a few quiet steps inside towards the bed. He can just make out two forms in the mess of blankets. He takes in the scene with raised eyebrows and then tiptoes back out, shutting the door silently and padding back down the hall quickly.

“Babe, wake up.”

Adam groans and presses his face deeper into the pillow. 

“Seriously, Adam, wake up.”

“Why?” It’s almost a moan of despair. Shiro does not have time for guilt right now.

“There is a boy. In Keith’s bed.”

“Huh?” Adam rolls over, yawning. 

Shiro would really like him to wake up and experience the urgency this crisis requires. “ Adam!”

“Oh my God,” Adam stares with wide, slightly alarmed eyes. “ What?”

“Lance is asleep in Keith’s bed.”

Adam blinks.

“Keith is also asleep in the bed,” Shiro adds, because Adam needs to understand. “They are currently cuddled up in bed. Together. ”

“ What? ” Adam finally sits up, staring at Shiro with obvious confusion. “Wait, what?”

Shiro grabs his arm and hauls him upright, then starts dragging him down the hall. He opens the door again and gestures for Adam to look. He does, turns to Shiro with wide eyes and…shrugs. Then he shoves Shiro back out of the room and shuts the door gently and heads back towards their bedroom. 

“We should, like, do something, right?” Shiro’s panicking just a little and his fiance’s nonchalance is not helping.  

Adam rolls his eyes and pokes him in the chest. “Calm down, Takashi.”

“Calm dow—are you kidding? Our kid is asleep with a—”

“If you go in there and make a big deal out of it, he’s never going to trust us with it.”

Oh. That’s a good point. A very good point. “Oh, shit. You’re right.”

“I’m always right,” Adam yawns and flops back onto the bed like a starfish. “And there’s a chance that there’s nothing going on. It’s not like cuddling automatically means romance.”

Shiro scoffs. “With those two?”

“Yeah, probably not. But, again, we say anything about it and Keith’ll shut right down. You didn’t put in all that work just to fuck things up now.”  

“ We put in all that work,” Shiro corrects, because he’s going to make damn sure Adam doesn’t sell himself short. “This was a team effort.”

“Sure. Look, you need to go in there and wake those kids up just like you were planning to do, and you need to not react to the fact that they’re sharing a bed.” Adam closes his eyes and snorts in amusement. “Anyway, it’s Keith , so the odds are he’ll freak over it all on his own. Which means you need to be there when he tries to self-destruct.”

“You know, you two are, like, scarily similar sometimes.” 

“Mhm. Now please let me go back to sleep.”

Shiro smiles. “Love you.”

“Uh-huh.”

He shuts the door gently and uses the hallway to psych himself up to put on an act. Then he gently opens the door and turns on the lights.

Chapter Text

Lance has a plan. If he just avoids basically all the officers he knows, he won’t have to explain why he was in bed with Keith. Or why he can’t stop staring at him. Or why his brain just…turns off whenever Keith is around. 

Unfortunately, he forgot about class on Monday. 

“So. You and Kogane?”

Lance glares at the smirking officer. “This is an abuse of power.”

“Sure is!” Curtis agrees cheerfully, holding up a bottle of red liquid. “Hold still. You’re going to be suffering from severe trauma to the head and gut.”

“What’s the point of this?”

“Triage, McClain. It was in that chapter you were supposed to read. Now, hold still and tell me: have you asked him out yet?”

Lance groans, then flinches as cold liquid is dribbled onto his head. “No. Now please stop asking.”

“Oh, but that would take all the fun out of it!”

“This is so unprofessional.”

“True. Okay, tilt your head to the right, please. Anyway, based on what little I know about Kogane, you’re gonna have to actually tell him you like him, because that kid cannot read social cues.”

“I know,” Lance sighs. Then he frowns. “Is this going to stain my uniform?”

“No, that’s why it looks more like finger paint than blood.” Curtis eyes the bottle with disdain. “But it’ll come out in the wash, which is why I picked it. I ruined several uniforms finding this too, so you should be grateful.”

“I’d be more grateful if you never mention any of this. Ever again.”

Curtis rolls his eyes and pats Lance on the shoulder. “Fine. But if things work out, I am so teasing you about it. I feel like that’s fair.”

Lance groans. “Can I please die now?”

“No. You have to wait until class.” The door opens and he glances at it and rolls his eyes. “I am clearly busy and did not do whatever you think I did. Fuck off.”

“And this is how you will end up with a dishonorable discharge,” comes the very easy reply. 

“No uniform, no chain of command!”

Lance doesn’t recognize the officer, who is definitely not in uniform but is also very definitely an officer. And also clearly related to Curtis unless Lance is just very bad at recognizing people. The man is staring at him and he salutes hastily, just in case. 

“Why is the cadet covered in blood?”

“Why aren’t you?” Curtis tosses the bottle at him. “At ease, Lance.”

Lance hesitates and the other officer sighs and returns his salute. “I am very sorry for whatever he has convinced you to do.”

“Um, thanks?”

Curtis scoffs and holds a hand out. “I need him to be bleeding from the gut too.”

“This seems like it’s entirely unnecessary.”

“Yusuf, give me the bottle!”

Oh, Lance recognizes that tone. That’s the “aggrieved younger sibling” tone. 

The officer smirks and does not give him the bottle. “Don’t you have a job?”

“Yes, and in fifteen minutes, I have to teach a bunch of cadets how to do triage. Lance is not going to survive and neither are you if you don’t hand that over.”

“You….are teaching?” So apparently everyone is in agreement that he shouldn’t teach. 

“Yes!” 

“Cadet, I am so sorry for you.” 

Lance tilts his head to the side to keep blood from dripping into his eyes. He decides he might as well try to get something out of this. “Thanks. He promised me extra credit for it.”

Curtis frowns. “I what?”

“I think it was five points?”

“I most certainly did not—“

“Sounds like something he’d do,” the older man agrees, tossing the bottle at the now-spluttering man. “Very generous of him.”

“Okay, Lance, I take back my earlier promise. I will tease you for your obvious crush on Keith Kogane.” He scowls at the newcomer. “And I’m telling Carla that you forgot your anniversary.”

“Do that and I tell Iverson that you poke around in his servers at night.”

Because Lance has four older siblings, he is very familiar with the thought process he sees flicker over his reluctant teacher’s face the instant before the man uncaps his bottle and squirts the contents at the older man. The thought process probably goes something along the lines of: annoying older sibling plus a bottle of fake blood equals an opportunity. Unfortunately for Curtis, his brother is also a superior officer, not a college student. The pair stare at each other for a beat. The blood drips, oozing down the officer’s face and chest. 

“May I ask what, in the name of all that is holy, just went through your head,” the man says slowly, diction practice perfect. 

Curtis makes a face and hands Lance the bottle. “Here, make a gut wound.” He turns around with a grimace. “I…”

His older brother crosses his arms and waits. Lance is absolutely living for this as he carefully begins creating a bloody gash on his right side. 

“If I apologize profusely will I still get chewed out?”

“Yep.”

“So why should I bother?”

“The difference between two weeks and two days of latrine duty depends entirely on how much you’re willing to beg.”

Curtis groans and switches languages, which is a tactic Lance is very familiar with in situations where your older sibling is out for blood (real or fake) and there’s an audience you’d like to not be aware of how desperate you are. It turns out that, from this side of things, doesn’t help hide the desperation at all. 

“Why is he covered in fake blood,” a voice whispers behind him. 

He jumps and turns to glare. Rizavi grins. 

“I’m part of the mass casualty event,” she explains, watching the men with obvious glee. “Wait, did he squirt the Sergeant? Oh he’s dead!”

Lance now recognizes that he has seriously underestimated how much the older man outranks them. He is now intensely grateful that he didn’t take a side in this.

Rizavi grins and gives a cocky salute as the two men look over. “Reporting for duty.”

“Did you get promised extra credit too?”

“Oh definitely. Lieutenant Imari’s generous like that.”

Curtis swears under his breath. His older brother looks very entertained. 

“So I’ve heard. Have fun with it then.”

“Sir!”

He returns the salute with a smirk, then points a finger at his brother and says something before leaving. Curtis rolls his eyes. 

“McClain, do me a favor and help Rizavi and the other two when they get here. Here’s a list of injuries.” He hands this over with a forced smile. “I’ll be right back.”

Lance wishes him all the worst. Rizavi grins wider and says something that makes the man groan as he hurries out of the room. Then she grins at Lance. 

“So how dead am I?”

Chapter Text

It actually takes less time than Shiro would have expected for the Keith issue to come up. Mostly because the kid stomps into the officer’s lounge, flops onto the floor at his and Adam’s feet, and says, very thoughtfully, “I’m gay.”

Shiro, who has been up for too long and hasn’t had enough coffee, speaks without thinking. “Hey, same.”

Keith scoffs, then grabs a fistful of Adam’s pant leg and jerks on it. “You owe me three dollars. He responded just as dumbly as I said he would.”

“Sorry, kiddo,” Adam mumbles, staring at the equation on his screen. 

“Adam, I’m trying to come out here and I could kinda use support.”

This seems to register on some level. Adam blinks a few times and frowns down at the boy. “Sorry. Go ahead.”

“It’s too late,” Keith sighs. “The moment is ruined.”

Shiro’s finally catching up. “Keith, thanks for telling us.”

He figures that’s right. Most of his friends had either made jokes like he just did or had given him pitying looks and told him that they already knew. 

“I kissed James,” Keith announces, apparently ready to move on with things. 

“Sorry, James Griffin?”

“Yep.”

“You kissed James Griffin?” He’s not surprised, exactly. The back and forth symbolic pigtail pulling between the two makes so much sense in terms of a crush. But he sort of expected a different boy to be the crux of Keith’s coming out. 

Adam is still carrying the conversation at least. “Did you like kissing him?”

“Yeah. I guess.” Keith shrugs listlessly. “He’s got nice eyes.”

“Do you plan on doing that again?”

“He asked me to go to the dance with him.”

It’s like pulling teeth sometimes. Adam gives Shiro an exasperated look. 

He tries. “Um, congrats?”

“I ain’t goin’ with him. I’m goin’ with Pidge ‘n Hunk n’ Lance.”

“I see. How’d he take it?”

“He was okay. Said he got it. Said we could still dance if I wanted.”

Points to James for navigating rejection better than expected. 

“So are you going with any of them or just with them,” Adam asks casually. 

“Pretty sure he’s straight,” Keith says bluntly. “He flirts with all the girls.”

So now they’re talking about Lance. Shiro can’t really say anything, because he’s also seen (and heard) Lance flirt with at least half the girls in his cohort. 

Adam frowns though. “I think you should ask him anyway, fetus. You might be surprised.”

“Or I’ll be rejected. He’s straight.”

“Kiddo, just because he flirts with girls doesn’t mean he doesn’t like boys. It’s possible to like both.”

“That’s just really confusin’!”

“That’s sexuality in a nutshell.”

“Well how do I know what he likes then?”

Adam rolls his eyes and shoots Shiro a pleading look. 

Shiro sighs. “You have to ask him.”

The kid groans some more.

Chapter Text

So the thing is, Lance is pretty sure the universe hates him. It puts things in his path just to see him struggle through it. That’s why he was walking past the labs on his way to hunt down a new test tube after his shattered in chemistry class. That’s why he heard James asking Keith out. And Keith only sort of said no. 

His heart feels like it’s been run over by a truck, bitter disappointment warring with a sort of hurt that makes no sense, since Keith’s just his friend. But whatever. Heart: hurt. Stomach: sick. 

He doesn’t bother going back to class, instead sending a note to say that he’s going to the nurse’s office. 

He’s diagnosed with a headache and sent on his way with some sympathy and not much else by the nurse who can tell he doesn’t feel well even if nothing is actually wrong with him. He stumbles back to his dorm and collapses onto the bed with a loud groan. 

Hunk finds him there a few hours later. 

“Are you sick?”

“No.”

“What’s up?”

He sighs and rolls onto his back, staring with despair at the other boy. “James asked Keith out.”

“Oh.” Hunk grimaces. “I see. Um…did he say yes?”

“Not exactly. I mean, it’s Keith, so he was all awkward and adorable and just so flustered! But he didn’t say no. He just said he was going with his friends. James said they could still dance though and he said ‘sure’.” The memory stings and he rolls over and buries his face in the pillow again with a groan. He mumbles into his pillows. “He didn’t say no.”

Hunk sighs. “Okay. Let’s just…take a minute here. What happened, exactly?”

Lance recounts the scene, Keith and James in one of the empty lab rooms, sitting right next to each other, arms touching. James asking if Keith wanted to go to the dance with him. Keith spluttering and mumbling that he had plans to go with his friends. James sighing and nodding and saying that that was cool. Suggesting that they could dance anyway. Keith shrugging and saying sure. 

Hunk nods slowly. “Okay. So, he didn’t actually say anything.”

“No. But he said enough.” Lance groans again. “He didn’t say no.”

“It’s just a dance,” says his best friend and confidant. “It doesn’t matter. He’s still going with us and you should ask him to dance too!”

Lance really isn’t in the mood to have his problems solved right now, so he just groans again and burrows deeper into the pillows. Hunk sighs and pats him on the back. “It’s not the end of the world, you know?”

Eventually, Lance allows himself to be lured back out of the pillows by promises of cookies.  He doesn’t really feel up to talking, so he stuffs his face full of gloriously gooey cookies and refuses to engage when Hunk tries to speak with him. 

“Come on, it’s not that bad.”

Cookie. 

“Lance, he’s still going with us and you could still ask him to dance.”

Two cookies. 

Hunk sighs. “I really think you’re overreacting here. I mean, he didn’t say he liked him or anything like that!”

Another cookie. 

Eventually, Hunk gives up, muttering irritably about stupid boys and stubborn jerks. Lance ignores this. Instead, he takes another cookie and thinks about how it feels to hold Keith’s hand.