Chapter Text
Contrary to popular belief, nesting was only so comfortable for so long. Especially when two of your number happen to have the equivalent number of wings for four.
He blinked, his body instinctively tensing to react to whatever threat had woken him, when he remembered where he was and who he was with. The last thing he remembered, he’d been dozing on the back of the couch.
Looked like he’d either migrated in sleep or been moved by someone to join the rest of the flock.
Lance grunted as someone- Pidge, probably- rolled into him, elbow digging sharply into his ribs. Thankfully, he was on the outskirts of the flock’s nest, constructed in the middle of the lounge with the back of the couches providing the walls. Thus, he was able to escape rather easily and with minimal fuss from his cuddle-mates.
(Sidenote: it had totally been Pidge.)
He waited until he had made it to the safety and quiet of the corridor to stretch, his long, broad wings creaking with the motion. The larger Galran wing was functional, but Lance had come to find that it didn’t have the same range of sensory input as his biological one over time. He felt like an old man.
He rotated his shoulders next as he started walking, swinging his arms and wincing at the pinch in his prosthetic shoulder and arm. Some days, the pain was bearable- an ache compared to the worse days. The others had been tiptoeing around him until he’d finally snapped at them in exasperation. He loved them like family, but if they had continued walking on eggshells around him he would have gone insane. The good news was that they’d all gotten it once he explained that some days he was going to be crankier than others- Shiro had made a face even as he rubbed the joint between his own prosthetic and his shoulder.
Lance was fairly certain that Shiro was pretending that his prosthetic didn’t bother him.
First on his list of stops was the bathroom- he would shower later, after he’d finished his training.
He flushed, yawning as he washed his hands and examining himself in the mirrored tile above the sink.
Lance knew he’d aged since leaving Earth and becoming a part of Voltron; even more so since being captured by the Galra. There were faint creases around his eyes now, dark bags that seemed to be ever present no matter what he did. There were faint patches of stubble coming in along his jaw, marked and interrupted by white scars that he’d collected from missions and… other circumstances he would rather forget.
Not to mention that his hair was growing long, almost hanging into his eyes.
He frowned, tugging at a strand of the brunette locks and eying it critically. He would ask Coran if there was something he would use to cut it himself later- otherwise he would just have to tough it out. It wasn’t exactly a secret that he didn’t do so well with sharp objects near him if he wasn’t the one holding them. Just like he didn’t cope well with the castle’s alarm system, sudden movements in his direction, the color purple in some instance…
He groaned.
Too much thinking was going to get him nowhere.
Lance almost staggered down the corridor toward his room for a change of clothes. He hadn’t intended to pass out in the lounge, but here he was, awake at an ungodly hour due to his own thoughts and Pidge’s sharp elbows.
His dreams were never really substantial- mostly colors and the sense of unease that something was wrong. Most of the time he didn’t even dream. One second he was falling asleep, the next he was awake. Nothing in between.
He didn’t even realize that he was on autopilot until he found himself standing in the training deck, his hand poised over the keypad. Blinking, he keyed in the specs for the simulation, tweaking it from the blade settings Keith had been using the night before to a hand to hand setting.
“Begin simulation.”
The gladiator dropped from the ceiling as Lance fell into a crouch.
Shiro was up shortly before he knew Keith would rouse himself, noting Lance’s absence as he disentangled himself from aforementioned dark haired male and Hunk with a sigh of relief. The pair were notorious cuddlers in their sleep, moving in like leeches and generating way too much heat to be comfortable.
He took a moment to survey the group- Allura and Coran had paired up at some point, wings overlapping one another and cocooning themselves off from the rest of the team. Altean sleeping arrangements seemed odd to Shiro.
Pidge was hunkered down behind Hunk, the space left behind her likely where Lance had settled at some point, and she frowned and made a noise in the back of her throat before shifting a wing to make up for the blanket that had slipped off of her shoulder.
It was small things, Shiro smiled softly as he retreated from the room, careful not to make much noise until he was a fair distance away. It was also too bad they were out in open space- it would have been nice to get out and stretch his wings before headed to the training deck and then down to his lion. As it was, he was going to make a quick stop in the kitchen for something to eat before heading down to train.
He knew where his preferred food source was kept- it was some kind of granola/cereal crossover that had the consistency of charcoal but otherwise tasted fine, if a little bland. He poured himself a bowl of it, added some of Coran’s food goo to balance the texture, and seated himself cross-legged on one of the stools at the counter, flicking his wings as he contemplated when the last time they had been groomed. It was an odd habit of his, when he was alone.
Shiro always seemed to manage to contort himself into strange positions while he was relaxing on his own- Keith could probably provide many stories of their days in the Garrison and the younger walking in to find him upside-down or tilted sideways while he studied notes, wings splayed out across everything in sight.
Engrossed in his thoughts, he didn’t hear the door open or someone enter until a soft sound had Shiro automatically activating his Galran arm, turning seamlessly to face the intruder-
And coming face to face with a defensive Lance, his own arm glowing faintly as he eyed him up. It looked like the younger had just come from the showers- his hair was damp, a towel around his neck.
“Sorry, Lance.” Shiro sighed, backing down and rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. “Guess I was thinking too loud again.”
“Nah, it’s okay. I should have made noise instead of sneaking up on you.” The younger brushed it off, his wings settling as his prosthetic returned to its default appearance. “Hey, while I’m thinking about it, do you have scissors or something that I could borrow for my hair? It’s getting too long for my liking.”
“Oh. Yeah, actually. Got the Altean version of an electrical trimmer you can borrow if you like, or you can check with Coran- I think there’s some scissors of some kind you could use, too.”
“Yeah, don’t know if I’m ready to try that undercut yet.” The younger snorted, a faint smile ghosting across his lips as he moved over to the cupboard to grab a bowl and poured himself some of the weird charcoal-granola. “Besides, I don’t think anyone’s ready to see that. You have the uncanny ability to pull it off, but I don’t think the rest of us would be so lucky.”
Shiro hummed in reply, studying Lance as he seated himself on the counter across from him. Not for the first time, he noted how Lance seemed to be so much more serious than he used to. Tired. Sure, he was beginning to regain some of his former self, but there was a lot that had changed.
“Were you training?”
“Yeah. Couldn’t sleep.” The younger offered, getting started on his bowl of food. “Been up for a couple of hours, I think. I was going to head down and see Blue after this. You?”
“Just got up. I think I’ve got a while before Keith’s up- he seems to think he has to train with me every morning.” Shiro swallowed, rotating his shoulder and wincing at the crack it made.
“Want some company? If you like, I mean. It’s been a while since I’ve actually trained with any of you guys since…”
Lance trailed off, but Shiro didn’t need to hear the rest of the sentence to know what he meant.
“If you’re up to it, I wouldn’t mind a sharpshooter looking after my back in simulation.” Shiro offered gently, smiling at the faint look of surprise on Lance’s features. “Wouldn’t want you to get out of practice.”
“No, I guess not.” Lance barked out a laugh, his features loosening into a more genuine expression.
They finished their breakfasts and wandered to the training deck, Shiro keying in the simulation specs. He adjusted the settings for five hand to hand gladiators and four blade gladiators, upping the level to four.
Lance took his position up in the rafters that was designed for the long-distance fighters, flashing a thumbs up to Shiro as his bayard took form and his wings folded behind him.
“Begin simulation.”
Lance inhaled, pushing through the initial fear as the gladiators dropped around Shiro, blades and hands gleaming under the lights. He couldn’t afford those feelings now- despite it being a simulation, gladiators could and would hurt whoever they were against.
He stared down his scope, breathing light as he exhaled and began picking off the gladiators surrounding his flock mate.
Shoulder.
Shoulder.
Chest.
Thigh.
Head.
Those he was able to get a kill-shot off on went down with bullets through the head and throat, the others going down with serious injuries and leaving Shiro to pick them off at his leisure.
It didn’t take long for it to become obvious that the two of them versus nine gladiators was a bit unfair to the gladiators. Lance was completely focused in his mission, able to pick off their opponents with ease while Shiro grappled with the few that were left.
“Pause simulation.” Shiro called out, panting lightly as he stretched out his wings to cool off.
“You alright?” Lance called down to him, brows furrowed.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking of upping the gladiator count. Would you be okay with adding a couple sharpshooters against us?” the other returned.
“Yeah. Should be fine.”
Shiro strode over to the keypad, adjusted the settings, and took up position again, glancing up to Lance and resuming the simulation once he’d nodded.
The difference was immediate- Lance had to duck and pin his wings down as the sharpshooters put him under heavy fire. But he popped back up again, firing off shots in that direction and pinning them down against the furthest wall. Thankfully, they weren’t programmed to attack Shiro as well as Lance, or there would have been a bigger problem. Still, nine against one was no small feat, and Shiro was beginning to show signs of distress the longer that Lance was held up by the pair of gladiator marksmen.
Growling, he activated his prosthetic arm as a shield, moving it ahead of his face so that he could focus his energy on keeping Shiro from taking damage. Perhaps it was slightly self-sacrificial of himself, but his instincts took over on that front and he couldn’t help but fall into a sort of trance, as if he wasn’t really the one behind the rifle.
He bit back a yelp as one of the shots hit his bad shoulder, the prosthetic vibrating in the joint.
A moment later, Shiro called it, leaning over to catch his breath, wings trembling from the exertion. Forty-five minutes wasn’t bad at all with two of them against that many opponents- especially with Lance’s sharpshooting skills. He really had a natural skill for it.
The younger of the pair climbed out of the blind and dropped down, flaring his wings to glide to the floor.
Shiro could see that Lance had been hit- his false shoulder, by the looks of it. And yet he straightened, pretended that there was nothing wrong.
“Lance, you’re hit.”
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing. How’s your shoulder?”
Lance faltered, and Shiro sighed, moving closer to stretch out a hand and touch his shoulder.
“I think something got damaged in the prosthetic.” The brunette finally admitted, sagging. “Not the arm.”
“We should get Pidge to check it out.” He frowned, concerned.
“Later.” Lance pleaded. “I don’t want to wake her up. She hasn’t been sleeping great.”
Shiro eyed him up, taking in the defeated stance, the drooped wings, and huffed.
“Fine. But please, get it checked out before tonight. We don’t want you hurting any longer than you have to.” He replied.
“Yeah. I will.” Lance promised. “I’m going to go see Blue and then Pidge if she’s up by then.”
“Alright. I’m going to hit the showers. I’ll see you at lunch.”
Lance nodded, following Shiro to the door before parting ways.
Blue was already purring in the back of his mind as Lance entered her hangar, the large cat sitting on her haunches and her tail flicking.
My Paladin. She purred, images flooding his mind of the other paladins wandering past her from the last several days.
“Hey, beautiful.” Lance cooed, warmth sitting in his chest as he touched her gigantic paw. “Missed me?”
Of course. She replied, moving her head to look down at him. Always.
“Charmer.”
Her amusement bounced down their bond to him, light and mischievous.
Learned much from you. She pointed out, adjusting herself to lay down in front of him. She looked more like a housecat than a part of Voltron at that moment, her eyes gleaming with affection for her paladin.
“I hear I’m a wonderful teacher.”
Hn.
A low rumble was his reply. Blue tilted her head at him, flicking her ears forward. You are injured.
“Yeah.”
Here, there was no use in hiding it from her. Blue was as much a part of him now than he ever had been. She was the cool breeze, the soft waves crashing against the sands, her love for him as free as the ocean and the sky.
And yet you hide it from your flock.
“I don’t try to. It just happens.” He defended with a shrug, wincing at the pain in his shoulder. The shot had burnt skin- it was stinging with a vengeance.
Share your hurt with me. Blue invited, her mental ‘voice’ soothing. Let me ease it.
Lance closed his eyes, hesitantly allowing what few barriers he had to disappear and his aches and pains to echo to his lion. Blue always managed to get him to agree to it- she refused to allow him to wallow in his thoughts and definitely refused to allow him suffer when she wanted to help him. She was so stubborn when she felt inclined to start picking fights with him. Or rather, when he began to bicker with her.
You will see the small one later? She inquired, the tone somehow an order as well as a question.
“As much as I don’t want to, yeah.” He agreed. “It just doesn’t seem like much in the big picture.”
You are a part of that picture, My Paladin. Blue reminded him. Your heart is wounded from what that witch did to you. Your flock only wishes to see you safe. To help ease your hurt as I do.
It sounded so simple when she said it.
Because it is.
He scowled at her, even as his mind felt as though it were spiralling slightly out of his control.
“It sounds simple, but in reality it’s hard, Blue. I’m just a human-I can’t just push aside all of these things and be the same person I was.”
And I do not ask that you do. Blue replied, moving so that her maw was nearly touching him. Her eyes stared him down. I simply see things from a new perspective. It is true that you will not be the same- you are something new. Embrace the difference. If you fall I will catch you, as I always will.
“You can’t promise that.” He accused.
No. But I will try. You are MY Paladin. I chose you.
She said it with a finality that sunk deeply into his bones. So certain of what she knew. He appreciated her perspective most of the time, and much of what she had to say. But there were some things that even he was blind to, and it was usually on the topic of himself.
“I still wonder why, some days.” He smiled, leaning to place his forehead against her warm metallic nose.
Because I have taste in my Paladins. She sniffed.
There was an indignant rumble from the next hangar over- Red’s hangar. Blue looked terribly pleased with herself as she purred and gently moved to nuzzle her paladin, wings flaring as Lance tried to keep his balance.
“You’re incorrigible.” He chuckled, his mood lightening as he ran his hands over her muzzle affectionately.
As I said- I learned much from you. She chuckled in return, finally falling silent as the pair enjoyed the other’s company.