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Shiro and Keith were assigned to Lance’s guard nearly 6 months ago. Allura and the court were concerned with increasing political tensions and felt that Lance needed to be protected to the best of their abilities. Which, apparently meant, hiring two Galra soldiers who could kill a man with a look.
(Lance wasn’t actually sure if that was an exaggeration or not and was never particularly keen to find out).
At first, the scowling purple faces had made Lance want to role his eyes. He wanted to duck his guard, make their life hard. In general, he wanted to be the little shit that his sister claimed he was. And Lance did that, at least for a while.
But then Shiro’s scowl started to crack, and his lips would curl up just a bit, revealing pointed fangs, and a tendency of over indulgence for Lance and for Keith, who somehow miraculously ended up with Shiro’s dessert most nights.
Shiro would give Lance a little nudge when Keith’s back was turned, distracting his other guard so Lance could run away. He used to take full advantage, running as far as he could until caught. Yet, more often than not, he would just run around the corner, giggling helplessly and falling into Keith’s arms as soon as he came charging around the bend.
Shiro was never far behind, his metal hand running fondly through Keith’s hair and soothing the ruffled fur of his ears every time.
And that was another thing that changed. Keith’s scowl rarely cracked into a smile, but whenever he was flustered, his fur would puff up and his purple skin would darken into a near blackish bruise across the bridge of his nose in the most endearing way.
The first time Lance blew him a joking kiss one night at his door, Keith nearly passed out, the blood rushing so quickly to his face Lance was actually concerned for his health.
So, yeah, Lance had wanted to hate them, these Galra soldiers thrust into his life. But the past 6 months had been some of the best in Lance’s life, until the gifts.
The first gift was so unobtrusive, Lance nearly missed it: A dark blue cloth, left folded up at the corner of Lance’s bed. When he ran his fingers across the material curiously, he couldn’t help but gasp. It was a blanket so soft, Lance couldn’t help put pull it up and press his cheek against it with a sigh.
The scent was so comfortingly familiar, so specifically musky and warm and Galra that Lance immediately wrapped the cloth around his shoulders and curled up at the center of the bed. The softness, the scent, all put him at ease so quickly, it was almost an hour before the horror of the situation struck.
Who was it from?
When Keith and Shiro came into the room the next morning to wake him, Lance watched suspiciously from beneath his lashes, trying to figure out from expression alone who it was. He was still wrapped up in the blanket, the thought of not using it beyond his comprehension.
Yet, if he was expecting them to discuss the new addition to his bedroom right then, Lance was sadly mistaken.
Shiro pulled the curtains apart, like always, and Keith gently shook his shoulder, like every morning.
“Wake up, Prince Lance. You have a meeting soon.”
Lance frowned and rolled over on his back to glare up at Keith. His fluffy purple ears looked almost as soft as the blanket still wrapped around Lance like a burrito.
“I told you to call me Lance.”
Shiro chuckled behind him, moving from the window to Lance’s side to help him sit up and untangle from the bedding.
“Of course, Lance.”
Allowing Shiro to pull him up from the bed, Lance sent a triumphant smirk Keith’s way.
“See, Shiro gets it!”
Keith’s scowl deepened, but he still moved to help Lance step out of the puddle of sheets twisted around his feet.
“Fine, Lance. Hurry up, you have a meeting.”
His voice was all gravely and annoyed, and Lance wanted to kiss the frown lines in between his bright yellow eyes.
Instead, he patted them each on the shoulder and moved to his wardrobe unaided now that he was free of his accidental constraints. From the mirror, he watched as Shiro picked up the blanket and carefully folded it to sit at the corner of the bed where it had been the night before and Lance was sure it was him. But, then he started folding all the blankets just as carefully and Lance wasn’t sure anymore.
He loved Shiro, wanted to kiss the scar along his nose and hold his hand and feel his lips. But, he wanted all of those things with Keith, too.
As much as he wanted it to be Shiro, he wanted it to be Keith.
The next night, when he left them at the door, Lance easily spotted the weapon on the couch at the foot of his bed. It was brilliant, shining and clearly dangerously sharp. The dagger was clearly Galra made, and so loudly spoke of Keith that Lance couldn’t help but smile.
He had looked for clues all day, trying to figure out who of his two guards had begun the courting ritual, because it had to be one of them. No one else had access to his rooms, to start. But, Lance was so deeply in love with them, he couldn’t even begin to imagine thinking of someone else in that way.
While Shiro still placed a hand at the small of Lance’s back when they walked, and Keith snarled at any stranger within five feet, these were all common things and didn’t help him guess in the slightest.
But this, the dagger, this was 100% Keith all over. And it filled Lance’s heart as much as it broke it when Shiro came to mind.
Lance carefully picked up the blade and held it to the light for inspection. The script on the blade was Galra, but it was familiar enough for Lance to pick out the significance. It was a courting gift, there was no doubt; however, the place where there were normally two lines to signify the two lovers, there were three.
His heart jumped for a moment, but Lance’s Galra was childish at best and he had probably mistranslated.
He tucked the blade beneath his pillow, where he knew Keith would want it for his safety. Lance held the thick leather handle with one hand, and used the other to pull his new blanket up and around his shoulders for the night.
Lance was sure that the next day, with the blade and the blanket in hand, that Keith would take the next step in the courting ritual, and reveal himself. Except, Keith and Shiro both were the same as ever.
Surely, surely it was one of them. Lance couldn’t really picture Shiro giving him the blade, but it was at least possible. But if it was Shiro, then why hadn’t he said anything either?
The whole thing was so confusing, it was driving Lance crazy. He barely noticed when Shiro held his chair out at dinner, or when Keith gently nudged his own helping of dessert onto his plate because it was Lance’s favorite.
When he returned to the room that night, there were two gifts this time: a bouquet of flowers (blue lilies, Lance’s favorite) and a book on Galra Self Defense. He held each gift in his hand, more confused, more bewildered than ever.
He wanted to set them all aside, to run from the horrible conclusion he had drawn. Were they both courting him? Was he going to have to choose? And when he was unable to, because there was no way he could pick one over the other, would he lose them both?
His eyes were still puffy and rimmed with red when Shiro and Keith came in the following morning.
The gifts were on the floor at his feet because he couldn’t bear to touch them.
“Lance?”
Shiro looked distraught, his eyes flickering frantically between the discarded gifts, Lance in the bed, and Keith at his side.
“Lance, are you…is this?”
Keith’s entire posture practically crumpled in front of them, his eyes lighting up with realization of rejection.
“I’m sorry, Lance. We’re sorry. We never meant to make you uncomfortable.”
Shiro dropped his hand, the one reaching out to Lance to pull him into his arms, as Keith’s words registered.
“Is that what’s happening?”
Keith nodded, his eyes fixed at his feet, unable to look either of them in the face.
“Lance, of course we never meant to upset you. We thought…we thought you wanted us. We were sure you would accept, or we would never have…we’re so sorry, Lance.”
Shiro still looked like he wanted to reach out to Lance, but now Lance was confused. Neither of their words made sense. We? We thought you wanted us.
“Wait!”
The words died in Shiro’s throat at Lance’s command and the lightning fast way he sat up in bed. He looked so gorgeous, even with tear tracks dried on his cheeks, and his hair a wild nest from a restless sleep. Shiro ached at the sight.
“Wait.”
His voice was just a whisper, blue eyes wide as he looked between them, something like hope stirring in his chest.
“They were from both of you.”
They both nodded, and Keith finally looked up, cautiously hopeful at the shift in Lance’s tone.
“I don’t…you won’t make me choose? I can have you both?”
Shiro was a blur of purple, tackling Lance to the bed as his arms wrapped tight like a vice around his torso.
“Yes.”
It was the most animalistic Lance had ever heard Shiro’s voice, the feeling of his silky fur overwhelming his senses.
The bed dipped at their side so that when Lance and Shiro turned, Keith’s eyes were glowing, just inches away.
“Do you mean it? Can we have you?”
Lance laughed, freeing one arm to pull Keith down so he was weighed down on each side by the two soldiers.
“Please, please don’t leave.”
He wanted to laugh, when the two above him started to purr, but instead, all he could feel was a bone deep contentment.
“You’ll never get rid of us now.”
And they fell asleep like that, tangled up together, like they would every night for the rest of their lives.