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Hunk had only just fallen asleep when a crash outside his room shattered the uneasy silence. He stumbled out of bed, mind racing with thoughts of Galra warships and ten thousand-year-old Altean tech experiencing a catastrophic failure at two in the morning.
Muffled curses and heavy footsteps drifted through the walls, and by the time Hunk stumbled over to his door, Shiro, Lance, and Ryner were already up, staring at what appeared to be a heavily modified gladiator bot lying broken on the floor. Lance was banging his head against his door, Shiro looked like he wanted to strangle someone, and Pidge, when they emerged a few seconds later looking like a hurricane in human form, actually flung their inactive bayard at Keith’s bedroom door.
“He’s not in there,” Shiro said, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“I know he’s not.” Pidge shuffled across the hallway as Val, Nyma, and Shay joined the party in the corridor. Pidge bent down to retrieve their bayard, bracing an arm on Keith’s door for balance, then seemed to give up halfway, fingertips only just brushing the bayard’s grip. “It’s called catharsis.”
“It’s called this has been going on for hours,” Lance groaned. “I thought Coran said they’d be better by now.”
Hunk cringed, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “It was them, then? I didn’t see anything.”
“Keith was still here when I came out,” Shiro said, gesturing helplessly toward the gladiator’s corpse. “Crouching over the gladiator like a deer in the headlights. He took off running as soon as he saw me. I heard Matt laughing, too.”
“Of all the vrekking--” Nyma raised her hands. “Nope. I’m not dealing with this. If any of you see the two of them, tell them the next time they wake me up I’m shooting them both in the kneecap. They can sleep this off in a cryopod for all I care.”
Val draped herself against Nyma, eyelids drooping. “We don’t need t’ hurt them,” she mumbled. “Just… lock them in with Red.”
“So they can all take a drugged out field trip into a black hole?” Lance asked. He’d given up banging his head on the wall, but the look he shot his cousin was no less exasperated. “That seems like a good idea.”
Hunk swayed on his feet, every bone in his body telling him to turn around and go back to sleep. It had been four hours since the chaos began, and Coran had told them it wouldn’t last more than six. If Keith and Matt hadn’t hurt themselves this far, they’d probably be fine on their own.
(Then again, they hadn’t gone messing around with gladiators before now, and Hunk didn’t want to think about where they’d run off to next.)
He heaved a sigh, then bent down to retrieve Pidge’s bayard for them. “I’ll track them down,” he said. “This whole thing is my fault, anyway.”
Shiro’s hand settled on Hunk’s shoulder, and he offered a sympathetic smile. “You couldn’t have known.”
“Yes I could have.” Hunk pursed his lips, meeting Shiro’s sympathy with a glare. “I test everything for compatibility with human biology, you know. It’s not that hard to test it against the rest of the team, too. But did I do that? No. Why?” He threw his hands up, too tired to come up with an excuse. “Because I assumed ‘spice’ only meant ‘drugs’ in Star Wars! My bad!”
Shiro squeezed his shoulder. “It’s not your fault. Look, I’ll come with you. We’ll go find Coran, see if he’s got anything new for us, and then we’ll deal with Keith and Matt.” He lifted his head, glancing at the rest of the team. “You guys should get some sleep. We’ll make sure the twin terrors don’t wake you up again.”
“Thank the vrekking cosmos,” Nyma muttered. She stalked back into her room, the door sliding shut behind her. Everyone else lingered for a moment, and Lance even opened his mouth as though to offer to come along.
He didn’t, though, and Hunk couldn’t blame him. They were all exhausted after a long battle and a longer night, and no one wanted to spend another two hours chasing down a couple of paladins who were hopped up on space catnip and psychic bonds.
Hunk wouldn’t complain, though. This was his penance.
It all started at dinner.
They’d spent most of the day fighting and the rest trying to restore some semblance of order in Sryncona’s captial city. Hunk had left a little early, hoping a good dinner might help everyone unwind after the battle. If he’d known how that would fall out, he would have stuck to food goo.
It hit Keith slowly, and for a long time everyone had assumed it was just fatigue. They were all eating mechanically, conversation slow and stilted. Lance tried to supply some energy to the room—after all the trouble Hunk had gone to to make them dinner, the least they could do was appreciate it. But even Lance was lagging, and the lack of response from the rest of the room wasn’t helping any.
That was why it took a good ten minutes to realize Keith had stopped eating and was staring intently into his bowl like the space stir fry within contained the secrets of the universe.
“A little tired there, Mullet?” Lance asked, jabbing Keith with his elbow. Keith swayed, but went on staring at his bowl. The only sign he gave that he’d heard Lance at all was one ear swiveling in the direction of his voice.
Lance frowned and snapped his fingers beneath Keith’s nose.
“Earth to—ack!”
Lance lurched backward as Keith straightened, smacking Lance’s hand away with such force he made his own chair overbalance and topple backward with a crash that startled Pidge out of their drowse. Keith landed sprawled, one leg still hooked over his seat, his spork dangling from a loose fist, his eyes wide and staring at the ceiling.
The stunned silence was broken by a sudden giggle from Matt.
“You okay?” Shiro asked, leaning his elbow on the back of his chair. He waited for a beat, eyes on Keith, and then frowned. “Keith?”
Lance pushed his chair back and knelt beside Keith, genuine concern taking root in his chest. “Keith?” He leaned his head into Keith’s line of vision, searching for signs of an injury. Had something happened in the battle earlier that Keith hadn’t bothered to mention? Some sort of poison, maybe, or druidic magic? Shifting shadows said Shiro had joined Lance on the floor.
Keith blinked. It was hard to tell with Galra eyes, but he seemed to be more focused now.
“Lance…?”
“That’s me,” Lance said, flashing a smile. Keith shifted, and Lance helped him up, keeping an arm around him as he swayed. “You will us, buddy? Kinda zoned out there for a minute.”
Keith pressed a hand to his forehead, his gaze fixed on the ground between them. Slowly, he looked up, mouth open to respond. No sound came out, though, and he cocked his head to the side.
“Keith?”
“Huh,” Keith said. Then he lifted his spork and hung it on the tip of Lance’s nose. “It fits.”
Matt laughed again, louder this time, and cut off with a grunt as Pidge muttered, “Shut up, Matt.”
The spork stayed on Lance’s nose for only a moment before it slid off and clattered against the floor—something Keith found immensely interesting. Lance met Shiro’s eyes over the top of Keith’s head.
“I think something’s wrong with him.”
Shiro nodded, then settled in on Keith’s other side. “All right, Keith. Let’s get you down to the infirmary for a scan, okay? Think you can stand?”
Keith put a hand on the side of Shiro’s face and pushed it away. “’m fine , Shiro. Human noses are just weird.” He refocused on Lance, leaning in until their faces were inches apart, and then touched the tip of his claw to Lance’s nose. “Pointy.”
Lance jerked back, clapping his hand over his nose. “What do you aliens have against me?” he demanded, glaring at Keith and then at Allura, who had half risen from her spot further up the table. “First my ears aren’t pointy enough, now my nose is too pointy? I happen to like my face, you know.”
“Me too,” Keith said, which brought Lance’s thoughts screeching to a halt as someone, somewhere, started to laugh, only to cut off with a wheeze.
Keith seemed not to have noticed what he’d just said. He struggled to get his feet under him, shaking off Shiro’s helping hand, then latching onto it when he made it upright and promptly pitched forward. Shiro grabbed his other arm to steady him.
“Take it slow,” Shiro said. “I think you might have hit your head or something. Coran?”
“I’ll get a pod ready,” Coran said, scurrying out the door. Shay had joined them by this time, pressing one hand to Keith’s forehead. He squirmed away from the touch and only succeeded in wedging himself underneath Shiro’s arm, and when Shay’s hand began to glow with the blue light of Quintessence, Keith went suddenly still, his eyes sparkling with reflected light.
Shay frowned. “He does not appear to be injured,” she said slowly. “Perhaps it is the fatigue?”
Lance snorted. “Okay, I think we all know by now that Keith gets grumpy when he’s tired, not...” He trailed off, waving vaguely toward Keith, who had started squirming again, trying in vain to shake off Shiro’s hands.
“Yeah,” Pidge said. “Something’s definitely wrong.” They pushed their bowl away and grabbed their laptop from the floor beside their chair. “Maybe that druid did something to him—or maybe it’s a Galra thing. Anyone seen Thace?”
Lance was about to say that he hadn’t, not since before the battle, but a distant rumble interrupted him, followed shortly by a flash of red and a chime from the comms station near the door. The rumble came again as Coran changed course. If they’d been on Earth, Lance would have called it thunder, and if any of the main alarms had gone off, he would have assumed the castle was under attack.
As it was, it just sort of made him queasy, like the floor was bucking under his feet.
“Is there a problem?” Allura asked, rising from her seat. Keith had gone still in Shiro’s grapple, his ears swiveling each time the distant thunder returned.
“Ah...” Coran glanced up from the comms station, his brow furrowed. “I’m not sure, Princess. Some sort of disturbance in the Red Lion’s hangar.”
Lance inched closer to Keith, giving him another once-over. “You think she’s worried about Keith?”
“Oh, no.” Hunk’s voice cracked, the dishes on the table rattling as he slammed his hands down. “Oh, no. Guys. Guys! What if something really is wrong with Keith? What if he’s dying?”
“He’s not dying,” Shiro said. “Probably something weird happened down on the planet.”
“But he was fine on the planet,” Val pointed out. “He was fine until we sat down to dinner.”
Hunk rounded on her, his lips parted in shock and betrayal. “Are you saying my food did this?” Val held up her hands, ready to protest, but the color suddenly drained from Hunk’s face and he dropped back into his chair. “Oh my god. What if my food did this?”
Keith made an unhappy noise and went boneless in Shiro’s arms, the sudden dead weight almost making Shiro drop him.
“Oh my god I killed Keith.”
Cursing, Shiro adjusted his grip, re-positioning Keith so he was slumped against his shoulder. Keith immediately nuzzled against Shiro’s shirt, making them both stagger. “He’s fine, Hunk.” Shiro paused, glancing down at the ear that twitched as it brushed up against Shiro’s chin. “Mostly fine. He’s not dying.”
There was a clatter from the table, followed by a thump and then a muffled, “Ow...”
“Matt!” Pidge scrambled up onto the table, peeking over the edge at Matt, who seemed to have tripped over Shiro’s chair. “Are you okay?”
“OH MY GOD, I KILLED BOTH OF THEM!”
“Hunk!” Shiro said sharply, then shot Lance a pleading look. “Lance, can you--”
“Already on it,” Lance said, taking a running hop up onto the table so he slid across, accidentally kicking Hunk’s bowl over. He landed beside Hunk with a grimace and took Hunk’s face between his hands. “Hey. Buddy. Breathe with me.”
Somewhere beyond the lip of the table, Matt began laughing. It was a breathless sound, the sort of giggle fit that caught you by surprise at three in the morning and wouldn’t let you go. Lance was no stranger to that sort of laughter, but he failed to see the humor in this situation: Hunk verging on a panic attack, Red rampaging in her hangar, Keith passed out on Shiro’s shoulder, Pidge alternating between worry and irritation on Matt’s behalf.
“Oh, for the--” Shiro’s voice cut off, and he lifted the hand that had been steadying Keith to rub his forehead.
“What?” Lance asked, the tension in the room beginning to bleed over into him. “What’s wrong?”
Shiro tipped his head back, his face scrunched like he was watching a particularly disastrous run on the flight sims back at the Garrison and trying not to comment. “Nothing’s wrong.”
Akira by now had come up on Keith’s other side, resting one hand on Keith’s arm in concern. He narrowed his eyes at Shiro, though, and then glanced to where Matt still lay, unmoved from where he had fallen.
Hunk buried his face in his hands, his shoulders beginning to shake. “It’s okay, Shiro. You can tell me. I killed them, didn’t I?”
“They’re not dying.” Shiro heaved a sigh, gesturing hopelessly in Matt’s direction. “They’re just high as quiznak.”
A few quick tests confirmed it. Keith and Matt were both perfectly healthy—or, well, Pidge wasn’t sure if ‘high on alien drugs’ still qualified as healthy, but they weren’t in any danger. Coran assured them all that the symptoms were temporary.
“Curious, though, isn’t it?” he asked, pinching a dried blue-violet herb between his fingers. “Dried neteria sprigs. This one’s more potent than what I’m used to, but even back before the war, it was well documented that neteria could have an intoxicating on Galra. Never known it to impact other species, though.”
“Not to mention if humans can get high off it, we all should be giggling like Goofy and Max over there.” Lance jerked his thumb at Keith and Matt, who were content enough for now to stay where Coran had sat them down on one of the exam tables. Matt had snatched up a metal tool off a nearby tray that reminded Pidge of a dental mirror, and Keith seemed transfixed by the reflection it cast on the ceiling.
The very tip of his tongue poked out between his lips like some sort of goddamn cat, and Lance and Hunk kept snapping pictures on their phones and tittering behind cupped hands.
Pidge shook their head, their gaze drifting back to Shiro, who hovered near the exam table like he was expecting one of the patients to take a nose dive. “What I want to know is how Shiro was able to tell Matt was high, like, immediately.”
Shiro stiffened, the look he shot Pidge’s way positively murderous.
“Ooooooh,” Hunk said, positively beaming. “Shiro, do we need to stage an intervention?”
“No,” Shiro said flatly, his eyes never leaving Pidge. “And I think that question is better directed at your brother.”
Yeah. Because that totally wasn’t a blush creeping up Shiro’s neck.
And Akira totally wasn’t grinning like a hyena stalking on a wounded gazelle.
Fortunately for Shiro, Keith chose that moment to pounce—literally. He launched himself off the exam table with so much force he actually moved it backward several inches, which made Matt latch onto the edge, his eyes going wide. Keith summoned his bayard, drew back, and lunged at the wall.
The resulting shriek of metal on metal scraped down Pidge’s spine like an electric current, and they clapped their hands over their ears as Keith, startled, stumbled back. He tripped and went down hard, his bayard flying from his hands, and Matt burst out laughing again.
Matt doubled over, wrapping his arms around himself. In one, he still held the dental mirror, which caught the light, throwing another shimmering image on the wall. Keith scrambled up and launched himself at the reflection, going at it this time with bare claws that left little score marks in the paint.
“Oh my god,” Lance breathed. He clapped his hands over his mouth, bouncing on his toes. “Oh my god! He’s actually a cat.”
Akira wheezed, reaching out blindly to slap at Shiro’s arm. “Quick,” he said. “Quick. Please tell me someone has a laser pointer.” Shiro shrugged, and Akira groaned at the ceiling. “How many fucking astronomers do we have on this ship? How do none of you have laser pointers?”
“Because some of us have priorities,” Shiro said, glaring at Akira on his way to where Keith stood, staring up at the reflection now wobbling somewhere near the ceiling. If he’d been wearing his armor, Pidge was willing to bet he’d already have slammed his head into the ceiling chasing after the little mote of light.
“Okay, Keith,” Shiro said, easing his arms down and away from the wall. Shiro was tensed for a fight, but Keith let himself be pulled away without much fuss—though he did keep ducking under Shiro’s arm to keep an eye on the reflection.
Rolling their eyes, Pidge confiscated Matt’s dental mirror and stuffed it in the pocket of their hoodie, where it couldn’t torment Keith anymore. Matt pouted at them, but Pidge just put their hand over Matt’s face and shushed him.
“So, hang on.” Meri held up her hand. “If neteria doesn’t affect humans, are you saying that… what? Matt’s high because of the paladin bond?”
Coran shrugged. “It would appear so!”
The implications of that hit Pidge about two seconds later, and the smirk dropped off their face. “Wait. If this space weed affects people through the bond, does that mean…?”
The alarm that suddenly split the silence answered their question for them, and they were moaning into their hands before Coran announced that the Red Lion had launched herself from her hangar.
Through the chorus of shock and alarm, Matt’s laughter rang out like that of a deranged circus clown, and Coran hastily brought up the castle’s scanners.
“Where’s she going?” Akira asked, reaching out without looking to catch Keith by the shirt before he could duck out of the med bay. “What—are we under attack?”
Coran shook his head. “She’s just… circling the castle.”
“Yeah...” Pidge dragged the word out. “So I’m thinking this is less ‘space weed,’ more ‘we’ve got a giant metal space cat hopped up on super potent catnip thanks to the power of alien physiology and psychic bonds.’”
A horrified silence descended on the room as everyone turned to stare at Pidge.
It was Matt who shattered the spell when he slithered under Pidge’s hand—still pressed to his face in an attempt to keep him calm—and latched onto Keith’s arm. “Keith,” he whispered. “Keeeeeith.” Keith stilled, staring at him. Matt leaned in closer, grinning. “Space party.”
“Space party?” Shiro frowned, turning to frown at Matt.
Unfortunately, that meant taking his eyes off Keith, who contorted, bucking off Shiro’s hold, and made a break for the door, Matt hot on his heels and cackling. “Race you to Red’s hangar!”
“No!” Shiro paled, shoving aside an instrument tray as he scrambled to give chase.
Shiro did, finally, manage to chase Keith and Matt down with some help from Akira, Lance, and Coran. It helped that Red hadn’t yet calmed down enough to return to her hangar to pick up her paladins, but convincing them both to come back to one of the lounges involved twenty minutes of wrestling and a bite from Matt that might well have broken skin if he hadn’t decided to bit Shiro’s prosthetic hand.
“I told you not to bite,” Shiro said, far too amused to be very sympathetic as Matt sucked on a spoonful of milkshake.
“Why’d I build your arm out of metal, anyway?” he asked, pulling the spoon out of his mouth and waving it around. “I should’ve made it out of cotton candy!”
Shiro raised an eyebrow. “Cotton candy.”
Matt nodded emphatically. “Would’ve hurt less.”
“He’s not wrong,” Akira pointed out.
Pidge looked up from their computer to give Akira a death glare. “Don’t encourage him.”
A twinge of irritation plucked at the back of Shiro’s mind, and he sent his sympathies Black’s way. Red had finally worn herself out about ten minutes ago, but instead of returning to her own hangar, she’d gone careening into Black’s, pouncing on the other lion like a kitten attacking her mother. The sound of two lions colliding was one of the most terrifying things Shiro had ever heard—all shrieking metal and a series of bangs so loud Shiro thought for sure the castle’s structure had been compromised.
Coran had assured them all that the lions’ hangars were reinforced in case of crash landings or malfunctions, but Shiro wasn’t wholly convinced the ancient Alteans had had hyperactive robots on the mind during construction.
Black was managing the situation, but she wasn’t happy about it. Nor was she happy with the other lions, Blue in particular, who seemed to find her predicament endlessly amusing.
Shiro felt her pain. Most of the other paladins had scattered once Keith and Matt were settled in the lounge. It would take a few hours for the neteria to work its way through Keith’s system, and there was nothing to do in the mean time but wait. Shiro, Akira, Pidge, and Lance had taken on babysitting duties while the others wandered off in search of sleep or other pursuits. (Shiro couldn’t blame them. It was late, and it had been a long night.)
For now, at least, things were quiet. Matt was sulking, but he’d turned clingy, and all Shiro had to do to keep him happy was let himself be used as a pillow—and occasionally suffer Matt’s complaints about his arm.
Keith, meanwhile, had developed a fascination with the crystal lamp hanging from the ceiling—a smaller but no less glittery version of the main crystal up on the bridge.
“How?” he whispered.
Lance, sitting next to him and almost entranced by Keith as Keith was by the crystal, pursed his lips. “How what?”
“The crystal,” Keith said. He blinked, suddenly teary eyed.
Lance shot a look at Akira, who was trying his damnedest not to laugh—and not having much success. “That doesn’t answer my question,” Lance said.
Keith looked down at him, his ears laying flat, and Shiro could actually see the moment Lance’s heart skipped a beat. He looked like someone had sucker punched him, and he only nodded when Keith repeated, “The crystal, Lance.”
Pidge looked up again, face screwed up in frustration. “What’s the big deal about the crystal?”
“It’s lonely,” Keith said.
The smack of Pidge’s hand against their forehead was sharp in the silence that followed this declaration, but Keith didn’t seem to notice. Instead, he turned back to Lance, tugging on his shirt.
“We need to take it up to the big crystal,” he said. “We need to.”
“Uh… right.” Lance pried Keith’s hands off his shirt, catching them between his own and patting twice. “We’ll do that first thing tomorrow, okay? It’ll make too much noise tonight, and everyone’s sleeping.”
Mollified, Keith settled back against the couch, his gaze returning to the ceiling. A few minutes passed in silence, aside from the clacking of Pidge’s keyboard and the occasional indistinct mutters from Matt, who had melted across Shiro’s chest.
Then, quite suddenly, Matt pushed against Shiro’s shoulders and twisted to look for Keith, whose ear swiveled toward him.
“Why is Zarkon such a jerk?” he asked, sounding for all the world like he’d just found the hill he would die on.
Keith didn’t miss a beat. “I don’t think they got the formula right on this one.”
Lance made a strangled noise, his eyes darting back and forth as Matt, apparently satisfied with this answer, flopped back down on Shiro with a huff.
“This one? Lance squeaked. “What the quiznak, Keith? I know you’re high, but seriously, what are you smoking?”
Keith blinked once. “You know there have been, like, a billion Zarkons. Right?”
“No?”
With a tsk, Keith reached up and patted Lance’s face. “It’s been ten thousand years,” he said, enunciating each word with a truly impressive amount of care. “No one’s that old, duh. Th’ druids just keep making new clones to replace him when he dies. This one’s wrong, though. They made him too whiny.”
Shiro choked on a laugh, and Matt grumped in response.
“It’s clones all the way down,” he mumbled. “A thousand clones in a trench coat. Duh.”
“Yeah, Shiro,” Akira said. “Duh.”
Pidge was interested now. They looked like they couldn’t decide whether or not to rage over the absurd claims, but they’d given up on whatever it was they’d been working on. “What are these, Galra conspiracy theories?”
“Sure,” said Keith. “There’s loads of ‘em.”
“Like what?”
Keith hummed, pursing his lips for a long moment as he considered it. “Sendak was secretly an Altean.”
“Sendak?” Lance asked, grinning. “Big, mean, and fluffy?”
“He’s Altean, Lance,” Keith said, suddenly very serious. “He can look however he wants.”
“Can’t argue with that logic,” Pidge said. They set their laptop aside and leaned forward, chin in hands. “What else you got?”
“The Alteans didn’t really die. They ran away to another dimension, where they secretly control everything in the universe.”
Matt shifted, fidgeting until he found a new position, his arms crossed atop Shiro’s chest, his head turned sideways atop them. “Haggar’s the Wicked Witch of the West.”
“The what?” Keith asked.
Matt slapped both hands down on Shiro’s chest with surprising force. “That’s it! We’re watching Wizard of Oz. Pidge!”
“I got it, I got it,” Pidge said. They caught Shiro’s eye as they grabbed their computer and shook their head. Matt scrambled for the blankets, then got distracted halfway through collecting them and turned two full circles in the middle of the room.
“Where’s the popcorn?”
Akira stood, holding up his hands. “I’ll get snacks,” he said. “You just… stay here.”
Pidge sent the movie to the big screen, dimming the lights with another keystroke. “Maybe if we’re lucky,” they whispered to Shiro, “the movie will put them to sleep.”
At first, it seemed Pidge’s plan had worked. Halfway through the movie, Keith and Matt were both out cold, and Shiro and Akira carried them back to their bedrooms. Hunk had wandered in somewhere around “Follow the Yellow Brick Road,” and he’d had real hope that Keith and Matt would be able to sleep off the rest of their high. Red seemed to have finally calmed down, according to Yellow, who had eventually caved and gone to help Black wrangle Red.
Still, Hunk had found sleep elusive for himself, and he stared at the wall for long minutes, wondering how many other spices in his kitchen were disasters just waiting to happen.
He’d finally fallen asleep, only to be woken up again, and now he just wanted this all to be over with.
“They snuck out?” Akira asked. He’d joined Hunk and Shiro at the elevator, apparently having been woken by the red paladins making their escape.
“I don’t even know how,” Shiro said. “I’m a light sleeper these days. Matt can’t roll over without waking me up. I have no clue how he managed to sneak out and give himself enough time to modify a gladiator before I noticed.”
“You’re tired,” Hunk said. “And Matt’s...”
Akira yawned, contemplating the elevator buttons before hitting the one for the bridge. They’d already checked the training deck and the lions’ hangars, but so far there was no sign of Keith and Matt.
That changed quickly enough once they stepped off the elevator just outside the bridge. Matt was there, wide-eyed and jittery. “Keith!” he shrieked, turning and sprinting away. “They found us!”
It was easy to forget how fast Shiro was. He preferred to take a stand, darting around the enemy, hounding them, but rarely flat-out sprinting.
He was sprinting now, though, and Matt didn’t stand a chance. He went down screaming, writhing in Shiro’s arms and laughing like he’d just discovered a new favorite game.
“Matt.” Shiro grunted as Matt’s elbow connected with the side of his head. “For the love of all things holy, please. Calm the fuck down.”
Matt, of course, did no such thing. He writhed like a greased lizard trying to escape a predator and yelled, “Keith! Save yourself.”
Shiro groaned, shooting a pleading look at the others. “Can you--” He faltered as Matt nearly got away, and huffed. “Get Keith.”
Akira flicked a salute, shoved his hands into his pockets, and sauntered into the bridge proper, Hunk trailing behind. Keith stood in the center of the space, ears pinned back against his head. He breathed in quick, shallow bursts, his hands twitching. Hunk took a single step forward, and Keith made a break for it, running and leaping onto a hoverchair, which wobbled beneath him, almost throwing him off before he sank his claws in, a high, keening whine escaping him.
“Why is the furniture moving?” he moaned, scrambling like he wanted to perch atop the chair back. This, of course, only made the chair tilt toward the forward viewscreen and begin to drift that direction. “Akira help.”
Akira laughed, but he darted forward, grabbing Keith by the collar as the chair zoomed past. Keith went limp in Akira’s grip, hardly even flinching as the chair crashed against an instrument panel.
“You finished?” Akira asked.
Keith nodded meekly, and Akira marched him back through the door to where Shiro had finally managed to pin Matt. Seeing Keith, Shiro breathed a sigh of relief, and Hunk helped hold Matt still while Shiro picked himself up off the ground.
“Hunk?” Shiro asked. “Can you reprogram door locks not to open for Keith or Matt for the next few hours.”
Hunk nodded. “You bet.”
“Great.” Bending down, he scooped Matt off his feet and carried him toward the elevator. “Tell everyone when you see them tomorrow that we’re taking the day off. I think we all need it.”
Hunk laughed, a little giddy. “I think you’re right.”
Neither Keith nor Matt put up much of a fight on the way back to the lounge, and Hunk made quick work of the locks. By the time he left, Matt had gone back to doing his best baby koala impression on Shiro, while Akira had managed to wedge Keith between him, the couch, and a mound of cushions.
“You’re all set,” Hunk said. “Good luck.”
Akira grunted into a pillow, and Shiro tilted his head back, offering a smile. “Thank you, Hunk. Sleep well.”
He would. And when he woke up in the morning, he was shoving every last sprig of neteria out the airlock.