Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hunk walked down the castle's hallway with a satisfied hum. Team Voltron's visit to planet Thlakia today has been a great success. The people of Thlakia were friendly and kind and very enthusiastic about joining the Coalition, and most importantly, the visit ended with a huge, extravagant feast – always the best way to wrap up a diplomatic mission, if you asked the yellow paladin. There were so many types of desserts Hunk simply could not eat them all at once (he truly wanted to, but halfway through his fifth one his stomach started to voice its protest, and he knew from experience this could only mean he had to stop right now before things would get messy, and not in a good way). So he ended up stuffing everything he hadn't managed to eat into his pockets, saving it for later. He knew some cultures would see this as an extremely rude act, but the Thlakians looked rather flattered, so it all really worked out for the best.

With his belly full and his bones aching from exhaustion - a nice, relaxing kind of ache, one that could lull him to sleep in no time – Hunk was more than ready to plop onto his bed and dive into a well-deserved night sleep.

He was just about to make the obligatory before-bedtime stop at the bathroom when he heard a terrible retching sound from inside.

Hunk's own stomach flipped at the sound. Without thinking twice he burst into the bathroom, eyes searching the room frantically. His gaze fell upon a familiar lithe figure that was curled around one of the toilets, clutching it with both hands as if his life depended on it.

"Lance?" Hunk called and quickly ran to kneel beside his friend. Lance was strikingly pale and covered in sweat, his face contorted as if he was in excruciating pain.

"H-h-hu – " he managed to blurt out before his face disappeared again down the toilet, hacking up more of whatever his bowels were trying to expel.

"Oh my gosh," was all Hunk could say. What the hell was happening? They got back to the castle barely a varga ago and Lance had been completely fine then. "Dude, what happened? Are you sick or what?"

"Maybe," Lance said with effort, fingers trembling as they tightened around the white Altean china. "Feels like I'm dying."

"You're not dying," Hunk scolded, even though his heart was already racing. "It's probably just food poisoning. Although I can't think of anything that could've caused it… I mean, you ate everything we ate at the feast, and we're all fine." Or, at least he hoped so; maybe there was something in the food that was bad for humans, and the only reason Hunk hadn't felt it yet was because he weighed about as twice as Lance – not to mention his even smaller teammates, like Keith or Pidge – and thus his digestive process was slower. Hunk's gut twisted at the thought, and suddenly he felt like shoving his own head into the nearby toilet. Not now, you idiot. You've got to help Lance first.

Lance shrugged weakly. Even this small movement nearly sent him off balance and he leaned his forehead against the cool toilet rim, inhaling deeply. "'s probably those stupid… m-mud cakes…"

"Mud cakes?" Hunk wrinkled his forehead. He didn't recall there were any mud cakes at the feast – and that was not something he would forget so easily.

Lance waved one hand impatiently. "Y'know, that grey stuff… Imera gave us…"

"What grey stuff – oh." Hunk's shoulders dropped as he realized what Lance was talking about. Imera, The Thlakian princess, was the youngest daughter of the planet's rulers. Barely a toddler, she was quite a lively spirit, to put it gently; Hunk was usually delighted whenever they got to interact with alien children (as long as he didn't have to stay alone with them, because playing babysitter was making him very anxious), but even he grew weary from hoisting her on his broad shoulders and running around the palace for the tenth time.

When the feast finally began they all assumed the princess had gone to sit with her parents. But shortly after the second course was served she popped up at the paladins' table, holding a tray with five suspicious-looking grey lumps that smelled like a mixture of motor oil and wet socks, her eyes sparkling and her mouth drawn in a toothy grin.

"I made you all desserts!" she exclaimed. "My special recipe!"

"I thought we were going to get dessert only after the last course," Pidge said and leaned back carefully in her chair, barely able to hide her disgust.

"No! You will eat my desserts now!" Imera insisted. "It's mud cakes! They'll make you strong and healthy so you can go and defeat the bad guys!" she raised the tray high above her head, standing on the tips of her toes. The stench was so powerful it brought tears to Hunk's eyes.

"Well, I think we can allow ourselves one small bite," Shiro said kindly and picked up one of the "cakes". It made a sickening squelching sound as it peeled off the tray. Shiro quirked his eyebrows at the other paladins. "I said, we can allow ourselves."

They all hurried to pick up their own cakes, each of them taking the tiniest of bites. The second the foul stuff touched Hunk's lips he knew there was no way in the universe he was going to swallow it, so he carefully pushed it with his tongue to the space between his teeth and palate, determined to hold it there until Imera was gone and he could spit it out and wash his mouth.

"Delicious," he said chokingly, breathing slowly through his nose. "My compliments to the chef."

The others could only murmur in agreement, clearly having the same struggle against their own bodies. Only Lance clapped his hands and called, "Wow, this the best dessert I ever ate! I mean, I've already learned today that the princess of Thlakia was both smart and beautiful, but I didn't know she was such an amazing cook, too!"

Imera went completely orange in the face – apparently this was the Thlakian version of blushing – and her grin grew wider, if that was even possible. "Really?" she asked.

"A-ha," Lance nodded and took another bite theatrically, humming in delight as he chewed on it. Hunk adored him more than anything in the universe at the moment. "Girl, you've got to give me the recipe."

Imera shrieked in laughter. "But it's a secret!"

Lance put up a devastated expression. "Then I guess I'll just have to savor this one."

"No! I'll go make you some more!" Imera called and ran at the opposite direction. The second she disappeared from view the paladins released a collective sigh of relief, gagging and sputtering and wiping their mouths with the tablecloth.

"Lance," Hunk said now, frowning at his friend as a new suspicion creeped into his mind. "How many of these mud cakes did Imera make you, exactly?"

Lance shuddered at the memory. "Um… six, if I remember correctly."

"And how many did you actually eat?"

Lance released a miserable whine and curled even tighter into himself. "Six…"

"What?" Hunk screeched, staring at Lance in disbelief. "Dude, you've got to be kidding me! That stuff was clearly inedible! I felt like throwing up just from this one tiny bite! I mean, I know we should respect the planet's customs and all but no one expects you to eat garbage! And six cakes made from this garbage, no less!"

Lance's lower lip wobbled. "I'm sorry," he said, swallowing back a sob. Quiznak, he was a mess.

"Hey, you don't need to apologize to me."

"I just wanted to make her happy," Lance sighed and closed his eyes as he tried to fight another wave of nausea. "She only wanted to play."

Hunk smiled in spite of himself. It was so Lance to go and practically poison himself just to put a smile on some kid's face. Lance had always had a soft spot for children; it was understandable, considering he grew up in such a huge family, with dozens of cousins and nephews and nieces. He would spend hours telling Hunk hilarious stories about all the times he watched his younger siblings.

He would also spend hours staring at their photos on his phone, eyes full of yearning. Sometimes he would wipe them when he thought nobody was looking.

Hunk's expression softened. "Hey, for what it's worth, I bet you made Imera really happy," he said kindly. "Seriously. I saw how she just beamed all evening."

Lance tried to smile at that, but a violent gag wrecked his body all of a sudden, and once again he lowered his head into the toilet. However, at this point he had absolutely nothing left to expel, so all he managed was a series of dry, choked heaves. Hunk rubbed his back gently.

"Sorry you have to see me like that," Lance croaked eventually, looking even paler than before. "I'm pretty gross right now."

Hunk shrugged. "Well, you've seen me throw up countless times, so I think we're even."

"So… you're not mad?" Lance asked hesitantly.

Hunk threw his head backwards and laughed. "Why on Earth will I be mad at you? It's not like you're throwing up my food. No, if that happened I would've kicked your ass all the way to Blue's hangar."

Lance finally smiled, albeit weakly. "I'll never throw up your food, man." He grimaced. "Although I can't really think of any food right now…" his palm went down to rest on his aching belly.

Hunk frowned. "We need to get you checked up. Who knows what the princess had put in those cakes; we need to make sure it's really just food poisoning and not something more severe."

Lance chuckled – or at least tried to, as it came out more like a dry cough. "The Blue Paladin of Voltron, Defender of the Universe, survived a hundred battles with the Galra only to find his death in a mud cake," he wheezed. "That's the way to go."

Hunk snorted. "Would you stop talking nonsense and come to the infirmary already? I'll call Coran."

In the end it turned out that Lance did have a pretty nasty food poisoning, although it was nothing too dangerous, thank god. Coran made him drink some Nunvil – Hunk could only watch and grimace in sympathy as Lance struggled to swallow the whole thing – but apparently the hideous concoction was very effective in soothing irritable stomachs, as only a few dobashes later the blue paladin passed out on the infirmary's bed, his face exhausted but relaxed. Coran smiled fondly at the sight and promised Hunk he would be back to himself by morning; still, he insisted Lance would spend the night at the infirmary, where he could hook him up to an IV full of much needed fluids. He asked Hunk if he could stay and watch him during that time, and the yellow paladin happily accepted the task.

As he watched his friend sleep peacefully, occasionally munching one of his remaining desserts, Hunk made a note to himself to bake Lance a huge cake once his stomach was healed - one that was not poisonous, of course. They could all eat it together while exchanging stories about their families; Lance would surely love that.

Chapter Text

"Okay, done." Lance put his pen down and slid the paper in Pidge's direction. "This time I definitely got it right. I've got a hunch."

Pidge snorted. "Are you sure it's not just the eggrolls from dinner? You had like five of these."

Lance's face turned bright red. "I had four! J-just check the damn question, will you!"

"Alright, alright." Pidge touched her glasses with one finger while grabbing the paper with her other hand. "Let's see if your hunch is correct for a change."

She skimmed through the numbers and formulas until she reached the final solution. Then, she groaned in frustration and threw the paper back on the table.

"Lance!" she rumbled. "We've been over this! Your work is fine, but the solution is all wrong! Again! Seriously, are you trying to lose these points on purpose?"

"What?!" Lance snatched back his paper and stared at it intently, cheeks still flushed. His shoulders dropped as he realized his mistake. "Oh, come on!"

"Look, we've been here since dinner and it's almost lights out," Pidge said and started to collect her things. "You keep doing the same mistakes over and over again, and I really don't have time for this. I tried to help you, but there's a limit even to what I can do and there's no way I'm going to get punished for being out of the dorms at this hour just because you can't solve one goddamn problem correctly. Good luck in the exam tomorrow, I'm going to bed."

"Wait!" Lance reached out his long arm and grabbed Pidge's wrist. She tried to shake him off, but his grip was strong. "Let me try one more time! Please! I swear I won't mess it up!"

Pidge rolled her eyes. A dull headache began to form behind them. God, she was tired. "You've been saying that for at least two hours now."

"No, I mean it! I'll – I'll double your salary!"

Pidge froze in her place. Now that was an interesting development. "You'll buy me four boxes of peanut butter Oreos?" This was the whole reason she'd agreed to help Lance study for their exam in Physics of Battle in Tridimensional Vacuum in the first place. After all, she had so many better things to do than being locked in the Garrison's library all evening with a hyperactive Cuban boy who could barely comprehend a single sentence from their textbook. But she liked Oreos, and she loved peanut butter, so…

Lance nodded so frantically his eyes seemed glazed over. "Four boxes, ten boxes, whatever you want, man. I just have to pass this exam. Please, dude. You can't abandon me now."

Pidge sighed. Well, Lance was definitely right about his desperate need of good grades. He has already been on Iverson's black list for a while now; he really couldn't afford giving the commander more reasons to threaten him with expulsion from the fighter pilots class.

She closed her eyes for a moment. What has she gotten herself into? She had one clear purpose in this place: to find out as much as she could about her family's whereabouts. She didn't come here to make friends or tutor weak students who weren't smart enough to study on their own. Besides, it was awfully close to lights out now and Lance had already gotten her and Hunk in enough trouble during their simulators.

The smart thing to do would be going bed now and leaving Lance to deal with his problems alone. It really wasn't her business.

But four boxes of peanut butter Oreos were such a rare treat. They cost a fortune in the cafeteria.

And Lance looked truly desperate at the moment. His cheeks were still pretty red (Was it from being cooped up in the library for so long? It wasn't particularly hot in here, especially with the air conditioner turned on full power) while the rest of his face was unusually pale, blue eyes looking almost sunken with black bags hanging under them. She also didn't miss the nervous tremble to his fingers as he held the pen to write down the solutions. He had to be way more exhausted and stressed than she was, but he wasn't ready to give up just yet.

Pidge sighed again. Those Oreos better be worth it.

"Fine," she said and settled back in her chair. "One more question and then I'm going to bed. For real."

Lance's face broke into such a huge grin Pidge barely held herself from returning it. "Pidge Gunderson, you're my favorite person in the whole world."

"Yeah, yeah. Come on, page 161, question 13."

Lance hunched over his notebook and started to write with newfound energy, tongue sticking out of his mouth. Pidge scoffed at the comical expression and turned back to her laptop. Maybe she could squeeze in a few more tweaks to her code before Lance was finished.

Ten minutes later she mumbled without looking away from the screen, "Are you done?"

No comment. She frowned and looked up. Lance was sitting still with his head resting on the open notebook, sleeping peacefully.

Pidge pursed her lips and closed the laptop with a sharp thud. Oh hell no. Lance did not just fall asleep in the middle of their study session, not when only ten minutes ago he was begging her to stay with him.

She reached forward and jabbed his shoulder. "Hey! Wake up! You still need to finish this solution!"

Still nothing. The only sound was the plastic rattle of a small object hitting the floor under their table. Apparently Lance's pen fell from his hand. Wow, he was really out of it.

Pidge shook his shoulder now, not bothering to be too gentle. "Dude, are you kidding me? Seriously, I'm totally fine with leaving you here for the night."

Lance remained completely unresponsive, and Pidge decided it was time to give up. "Fine. I'm leaving. Just don't come crying to me when you fail this thing tomorrow." She playfully snapped her knuckles at his forehead. Then she yelped and pulled her hand back, as it felt like she just touched a branding iron.

She carefully reached back and felt his forehead with her entire palm, then the rest of his face. Damn it, the guy was burning up. Did he have a fever? Well, obviously he did; but how come she hadn't noticed it until now? He has been chattering and full of energy all evening - was it pure adrenaline? How long exactly was he running this crazy temperature? And how did it suddenly spike in only ten minutes?

Well, his cheeks were pretty red for quite a while now. And his eyes seemed a bit glassy too… Pidge cursed herself for her negligence.

She looked around. It was only the two of them in the big library; all the other students were long gone. She needed to get Lance to the infirmary – there was always a medic on duty, even at night – but how was she going to do that? She couldn't carry him there all by herself, considering their weight and height differences. She couldn't even let him lean on her while walking, because, well, he was kind of unconscious.

She looked at the library's door, then back at Lance. She really didn't want to leave him alone like this, but it was the only choice she had.

"I'm going to get the medic," she said, even though she knew he couldn't hear her. "Stay here." What a dumb thing to say right now. "I'll be right back, I promise."

The infirmary was three buildings away from the library, and by the time Pidge got there her legs were burning from sprinting all the way. She should really start to take cardio more seriously.

She opened the door without knocking. "I need you to come with me, right now," she barked at the medic, who was leaning back in his chair with his legs on the table, staring at some game he was playing on his phone. He was about two or three years older than her, with a very bad case of acne covering his entire face and a weary complexion. He didn't look particularly impressed by the urgency in her voice.

"Yes, hello, good evening, how may I help you," he said mechanically, not looking up from his phone.

Pidge clenched her fists. Why was every medic on this facility such a lazy douchebag? Was it one of the preliminaries? "A friend of mine just passed out in the library," she said, trying to keep her voice even. "I couldn't wake him up and he's running a pretty scary fever, so you need to come and check on him."

"Tell him to come here," the medic said, still entirely focused on his dumb game.

Pidge gritted her teeth. Was this guy even listening? "I said he passed out," she said with emphasis. "As in unconscious. And I can't carry him because he's twice my size."

The medic sighed deeply as if all of this was a waste of time. "Look, I'm the only one on duty right now and there's like a thousand students in this place. I can't just go and visit anyone who's a little feverish. He probably did this to himself to get away from an exam; it'll pass tomorrow. No go to bed before you get caught."

That was it. Pidge walked to the table and snatched the phone from the medic's hands in one quick move. He yelped and flailed his arms in the air, but she was faster and shoved the phone into the back pocket of her uniform.

"Dude, what is wrong with you?" the medic finally rose to a stand, glaring at her furiously.

"What's your name?" Pidge demanded.

"Why do you – "

"I can hack into your phone with my arms tied behind my back and delete all your data. Now, what is your name?"

The medic sputtered for a few seconds, then huffed out a breath and crossed his arms. "Nathan."

"Well, Nathan, I'm sure that when the Garrison's board of inquiry looks for people to charge with medical negligence because a student who was clearly sick and in need of medical attention did not get a proper treatment in time and ended up being hospitalized, you won't be too happy when they find out you were the medic in charge at the time of the incident."

Nathan opened and closed his mouth several times and Pidge was more than satisfied to witness the struggle on his face. Eventually he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Fine. I'll come with you, you creep. But give me back my phone first."

Pidge took the phone out of her pocket and tossed it at Nathan without warning. He barely managed to catch it and gave her another glare, but she couldn't care less.

When they reached the library she suddenly grew weak in the knees, fearing that during the time she was gone somebody else noticed Lance and took him away, or worse, that Lance woke up and tried to leave on his own but collapsed again in some dark corner. But to her immense relief, Lance was still exactly where she left him, head resting on his notebook. His face was turned sideways now and she suddenly noticed just how sick he looked. Her heart clenched with guilt. She should have noticed earlier.

Nathan approached Lance carefully and shook his shoulder several times. "Hey, dude – " he looked at Pidge questioningly.

"Lance," Pidge helpfully supplied.

"Right. Um, Lance, can you hear me?" Lance released a weak moan in response and Pidge's heart leapt, but he didn't move or opened his eyes. Nathan felt around his face and neck and cursed instantly.

"Shit. You weren't kidding about the fever - shit. Um," he inhaled deeply, and suddenly Pidge felt bad for him. This was probably the first time he had to deal with something more severe than a cut or a sprained ankle, and he was clearly at loss of what to do. "Alright, we need to cool him down as soon as possible, and he probably needs antibiotics too… I need to make some phone calls." He ran a hand through his unkempt hair. "Can you watch him until I get the on-call doctor?"

"Sure," Pidge barely managed to answer before Nathan made a beeline for the exit. Well, at least he finally realized this was urgent.

She sat at the chair next to Lance and rested her hand on his forehead again, smoothing away sweaty bangs. Lance's eyelashes fluttered and even in his unconscious state he leaned into the touch.

"You're going to be okay," she mumbled. "Just hang in there a bit longer."

"Sophie?" Lance suddenly croaked and Pidge nearly fell off the chair. "¿Eres tu?"

Pidge simply stared at him. She had no idea who Sophie was, but she did know it was a girl's name, and her heart started racing. Lance couldn't possibly know that –

Her train of thought was interrupted as Nathan burst back into the library. "The doctor's on his way," he panted.

Pidge took a deep breath. "Okay, great," she said stiffly. Keep it together, Katie. It's probably just a fever dream; he won't remember any of this later.

Or, at least she hoped so.

**

Lance stayed two whole days at the infirmary, hooked up to bags of fluids and an assortment of medicines. It turned out he had a really bad flu, and that the night he and Pidge were studying at the library his fever was over 103 degrees, so it was sort of a miracle his brain wasn't completely fried until the doctor came.

Hunk spent nearly all of his free time sitting with his friend at the infirmary. Pidge also came to visit once, but left almost the second she arrived, because Lance was sleeping and she didn't want to wake him up and she felt awkward just sitting there and watching him sleep.

Besides, she might or might not was a bit scared he'd call her Sophie again.

Eventually the fever went down to a reasonable temperature and Lance was released from the infirmary, but was ordered to rest in his room for two extra days, so the next time Pidge saw him was nearly a week later, while she was sitting at a corner table at the cafeteria and typing rapidly into her laptop, ignoring the rest of the students as usual.

She heard the chair at the opposite side of the table dragged backwards as a familiar voice chanted, "Is this seat taken?"

Pidge raised her head and Lance's cheerful grin instantly filled her field of vision. His face was still a bit paler than normal, but all in all, he looked way better than he had just a few days ago.

Pidge looked back at the screen. "Look who's back from the dead."

Lance chuckled. "I know, right? I still need to take antibiotics for a couple more days, but other than that, Lancey-Lance is back in the game." He winked at a group of girls who passed by their table. They all gave the most in-sync eyeroll Pidge has ever witnessed before walking away.

Lance's face fell and Pidge snorted. "I hate to break it to you, but I don't think you've ever been in the game."

"Like you would know." Lance reached down for something under the table, and a second later four boxes of peanut butter Oreo cookies landed on Pidge's laptop. "Here. Told you I'd pay you back."

Pidge's eyes widened as she scooped the precious boxes in her arms. "Oh my gosh, you remembered!"

"Of course I remembered! You know I'm a man of my word!"

Pidge chewed the inside of her cheek. "But… you didn't even get to take the exam yet." She had heard from Hunk that a special make-up exam was scheduled for Lance at the end of the month, since he missed it due to his illness.

Lance shrugged. "So what? You still helped me study." His mouth curled into a small smile. "And sort of saved my life, or so I heard from Nathan. You know, I think he's become a lot nicer since you scared the shit out of him."

Pidge felt her ears turn pink. "I didn't save your life," she muttered. "I just called the medic."

"Still, you went and got help instead of just ditching me for the night. There are a lot of people who wouldn't even bother." he reached forward and squeezed Pidge's shoulder. "Thanks, Pidge. You're a really good guy."

The last word stirred something inside Pidge and the question left her lips before she could even think about it. "Who is Sophie?"

Lance blinked in surprised. "Huh?"

Pidge glanced sideways. "You… you were calling me that," she said quietly. "Back at the library. When you were…. Well, you were probably hallucinating."

"I did?" Lance leaned back in his chair. "Huh. Interesting. I don't remember that. Must have been really out of it. But anyway," his expression softened, "Sophie is my little sister. The youngest one."

"Oh." Pidge didn't know what else to say. "Um, okay. Cool."

"But hey, this is really funny. I mean, why would I mistake you for my sister?"

"I don't know!" Pidge burst out before Lance could dwell on this any longer. "I'm not responsible for your fever dreams! Besides, why did you even insist on studying when you were so sick?! You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"Aw, Pidge, you care."

"I'm honestly this close to kick you in the balls."

"Hey, I had no idea it was that bad," Lance said defensively. "I thought I was just nervous about the exam so I had a little headache, that's all."

Pidge looked at the ceiling. "Unbelievable. Well, you better not be sick when we have our next session, because this time I will ditch you. You can ask Hunk to drag your sorry ass all the way to the infirmary."

Lance's jaw dropped. "Did you just say 'our next session'?"

Pidge opened her mouth but no words came out.

Lance grinned again. "Somebody's getting softer…"

"Shut up!" Pidge got up sharply and snatched her laptop and cookies. "I'm going to work someplace else!"

"Guess I'll see you at our next session," Lance said in a singsong and waved as Pidge all but fled the cafeteria, hoping her ears weren't really on fire because they sure felt like they were.

Stupid Lance. Catching her off-guard like this. She needed to get away from this guy - although being his communications officer made it pretty impossible.

Well, maybe this wasn't so bad. Maybe it okay to hang out with her teammates once in a while, as long as she was careful not to reveal too much about herself. After all, she got four boxes of peanut butter Oreos out of this, so maybe it wasn't a complete waste of time.

And maybe she missed being called someone's little sister. Even if it was only a hallucination.

Bleh. Lance was right. She was getting softer.

She liked him better when he was sick.

Chapter Text

Coran hummed in content as he finished typing the last command into the cryopod's control panel. The screen bleeped and darkened for a tick, then came to life again, and the timer indicating when they pod would be opened again showed up. Four vargas from now.

Coran glanced at the pod's occupant and smiled fondly. For some reason, Number Three had a tendency to hop in one of these more often than the rest of the paladins; even Number Four, with all his recklessness and utter lack of fear, spent less time in there. Coran didn't think it was because Lance was a less skillful fighter as much as it was because of his burning desire to protect others, even if it meant literally throwing himself between them and the source of danger – just like he did during their first days on the castle, when he saved Coran from the explosion at the crystal room. It was one of the many reasons the old advisor has taken a special liking to the boy, even if he was careful not to let it show too much.

The reason for Lance's visit at the pod this time was a stab wound on his side. The paladins have been fighting all day to liberate a planet from the Galra's occupation, but the enemy's fleet was enormous and the five lions had a hard time keeping up with all the ships – to the point they weren't even able to form Voltron. Things got even more complicated when the blue lion took a direct hit that shut down all of her systems and made her crash-land on the rugged surface of the planet. Lance survived the crash in some miraculous way, but was forced to step out of his lion as a group of at least thirty Galran soldiers stormed in their direction, determined to capture both paladin and lion. Lance managed to hold his ground for a while thanks to his long-range bayard, but thirty soldiers were too much even for a talented sniper as him.

Coran, Allura and the other paladins could only listen in horror as the sound of human flesh being torn apart followed by Lance's agonized scream filled the comms.

Allura clutched the control pillars in fury, already ready to fly the castle straight into the planet's atmosphere and retrieve Lance and Blue before the Galra had them. But luckily Blue's protective instincts kicked in first, her systems suddenly coming back to life; she appeared in her hangar barely two dobashes later, opening her metal jaws to reveal a half-conscious, heavily bleeding blue paladin. The Galran soldier's sword had pierced his entire right side, from the belly to his middle back, and even in his dazed state he couldn't hold back a cry of pain as Allura and Coran hauled him onto a stretcher.

Once they finished prepping him for the pod and updated Shiro that he was in good hands, Allura decided to hop in Blue and head back to the planet to participate in the battle. And while Coran was more than anxious at the thought of her flying out there, completely exposed and far from the safety of the castle, he also knew that the other paladins had to use every help they could get; considering the overwhelming numbers of their enemy, being down a lion was simply not an option.

Coran glanced again at the timer and sighed. Four vargas were not a very long time; he had dealt with much severe injuries in the past. But he'd never had to wait out those vargas alone in the big, empty castle while the rest of his teammates were down on a foreign planet, risking their lives. He prayed with all his might they would be back soon; the silence, broken only by the mechanical buzz of the cryopods, nearly hurt his sensitive ears.

Coran chuckled humorlessly. He could actually use one of Lance's jokes right now. They weren't always funny or sophisticated, but they did do a great job in breaking the tension.

Figuring out he'd rather be on the bridge and watch the battle closely than sit here and stare at the paladin's still form, he turned on his heels and exited the infirmary. Lance was going to be fine. There was nothing Coran could do other than let the pod do its job. And besides, he had his tablet with him; it had a direct connection to the pod's control system, so if any malfunction was to occur – not that there was any reason for something like this to happen – he would be notified right away.

But he really had nothing to worry about. The castle might be more than ten thousand years old, but the only time there was a pod malfunction was when it was infected with Sendak's crystal.

Everything was going to be fine.

**

Coran has been on the bridge for nearly a varga now. The battle was still on, but no further hits or injuries on behalf of Team Voltron were reported, which was a small comfort. He was just about to call Shiro and ask for another status report when his tablet beeped loudly.

Coran unlocked the device's screen and his eyes widened in horror. The graphs indicating Lance's vitals, which had been glowing a placating shade of green until this very moment, were now flashing an angry red with the word "error" written all over the screen.

The advisor's heart stopped. What was the meaning of this? Had the castle been hit by one of the Galra's battleships? Impossible – Coran would have known if a blast hard enough to shut down the pods had rocked the castle.

Without thinking twice he sprinted all the way back to the infirmary, ignoring the ache in his legs – those old muscles weren't what they used to be – and burst inside just in time to see the door of Lance's pod open with a hiss, and the blue paladin tossed out like a sack of Gronderri fruit.

Coran gasped and lunged forward. He managed to wrap his arms around the boy's upper body, but he wasn't fast enough to stop the fall, so both paladin and advisor rolled to the floor in a heap of tangled limbs. Coran let out a graceless "oof" as his back hit the cold floor, Lance sprawled on top of him like a dead weight.

"Number Three!" Coran exclaimed and carefully rose to a sitting position – oh sweet mother of Quiznack, his back was going to hurt tomorrow – shifting the boy in his arms so he could take a better look at him. Lance's face was white as a sheet and shining with sweat, which was definitely not something that was supposed to happen to someone who'd just spent a varga in cryofreeze. He moaned weakly at the sound of his name and opened his eyes groggily. Said eyes, which were usually such a pleasant shade of blue, were now pale and bloodshot as if he hadn't slept for ages.

"C… C'ran?.." he slurred, blinking owlishly. "W-what…" suddenly he hissed in pain and pressed his hand to his right side, squeezing his eyes shut. Coran lowered his gaze and winced as he realized the reddish hue of the cryosuit in this particular place.

"Hush, my boy," he said in the most soothing voice he could manage. "Everything is alright. Let's get you to a bed and run a quick scan, shall we?" He wrapped one arm around Lance's shoulders and planted the other one under the bend of his knees, hoisting him up with an audible grunt. This was definitely a job for Number One or Two, but right now they were busy fighting on another planet, so Coran had no choice but put his old bones to the task.

He walked to the closest bed and carefully deposited Lance on it, trying to stifle another grunt. Lance curled into himself as best as he could, shaking and clutching his injured side, and Coran's heart ached at the miserable sight. They boy looked even worse than he did before he entered the pod and that was not a good sign. Coran wasted no time activating the medical scanner, hoping beyond measure he'd get an answer soon because he couldn't stand another tick of watching Lance suffer so much.

His eyes skimmed through the numbers and diagrams and he wrinkled his forehead, frown deepening with every piece of data he deciphered. The scan showed frighteningly high levels of an unidentified toxin in Lance's blood, the kind that the cryopods were unable to treat. This was probably the reason the pod had ejected him – it was programmed to refuse treating anyone who had any trace of infection or parasite in their system; such things had to be rid of before the patient entered the pod, in order to avoid complications during the healing process of the physical wounds.

But how come the pod detected it only now? Lance had spent nearly a varga in there before the error message popped up; did the toxin take that long to effect? And how was Lance infected in the first place? For all Coran knew, the boy hadn't come in contact with any foreign substance or object during the battle other than the Galran soldier's sword.

Unless the blade itself was poisoned. Coran's fists clenched at his sides. The Galra were surely cruel enough to use that kind of weapon.

Well, no matter what had caused it, he had to find out exactly what kind of toxin it was and make an antidote. Considered how Lance's condition deteriorated in only one varga, time was of the essence.

A choked gagging sound cut off his train of thought and he turned his attention back to the patient in front of him. Lance has just rolled over to the far edge of the bed and vomited on the floor.

"Oh dear." Coran rushed to the paladin's side and smoothed back his sweaty bangs. He frowned at the heat radiating from his face – he was already experienced enough with human illnesses to know this was not a healthy temperature for this species. "There, there," he tried to sooth. "It's alright, Number Three. I'm here."

"What – " Lance shuddered, shaking even harder than before. "What's happening? Why…" his voice trailed off, too weak to even finish a sentence.

Coran sighed. "Your body seems to be infected with some sort of toxin. Can you tell me what you remember exactly from your encounter with the Galra? I know it might be a bit hard to focus right now, but this information is essential for me so I can help you."

Lance squinted his eyes. "I… Blue was down and then… a-all these soldiers came… I managed to take down five or six before this asshole s-s-stabbed me…" he hiccupped and turned his head again to the side, spitting some more bile. "Sorry," he whimpered. "I made a mess…"

"None of that," Coran chided, trying to keep his tone cheerful. It had to be the sword then. "It's nothing the good ol' Altean floor cleaner cannot handle! You should have seen what the mice had done in the laundry room two quintents ago. My back is still sore from mopping all that food goo off the walls!"

On a normal day, this remark would have probably gotten a shriek of laughter from the blue paladin; but right now Lance only curled tighter into himself, grabbing the edge of the bed so hard his knuckles went wide. "'m dizzy," he groaned. "And everything h-hurts."

The edges of Coran's moustache drooped down. "I know," he said solemnly. "But unfortunately I cannot put you back in the pod until the infection clears out." He glanced back at the scan screen, but the system was still searching for the exact type of the toxin. "In the meantime, let's just make you as comfortable as possible." His gaze fell on the spot where the cryosuit was stained red. "And dress this wound properly, too."

"The others…" Lance whispered as Coran approached a nearby closet to fetch some bandages and antiseptics.

"Down on the planet fighting, but they are all doing just fine," Coran said, hoping it was true – he hadn't heard anything from Shiro or Allura in a while, and he wasn't sure whether this was a good sign or not. "I suggest you don't burden yourself with worrying about them at the moment; let's just focus on making you better." The last thing Lance needed when he was so sick and disoriented was to fear for his friends' lives.

Despite Lance's uncooperative state, Coran didn't have a hard time peeling the upper part of the cryosuit off him, as it had zippers and openings in several places; however, the wound revealed beneath it did not look pretty and it took all he had to hold back a cringe. The bleeding was rather sluggish – at least the single varga Lance had spent at the pod helped with that -  but the skin around it was swollen and painted an ugly shade of purple. Probably the poison.

The advisor inhaled sharply. "I'm going to have to put some antiseptic cream on this cut before I bandage it. You don't need to do anything – just try and lie as still as you can. But I must warn you, this is going to burn." Quite an understatement for someone who practically had his entire side sliced open like a Kwimzini cake.

Lance moaned weakly, which Coran took as a sign of consent. However, the moment the advisor touched his side with one ointment-covered finger he hissed in pain and tried to roll away, tears wallowing in his pale blue eyes.

"I am so sorry," Coran said sorrowfully. He pressed on Lance's shoulder with one hand to keep him in place while applying the ointment with his other hand, each spasm and whimper from the blue paladin like a knife in his heart.

"Not your fault," Lance whispered, even though the tears were already streaming freely down his flushed – has his fever grown even higher in such a short period of time? – cheeks. He looked even younger than he was like this.

They were all so young. Even Shiro, the oldest of the paladins, was way too young to have been through what he has. Coran's hand shook slightly as he reached for the bandages. They were children. They weren't supposed to fight an intergalactic war and get hurt and poisoned during battle, for Quiznak's sake.

A few agonizing dobashes later, just as Coran finished wrapping the bandages around Lance's torso – he had hoped the boy would pass out from the pain at some point, but the damn toxin seemed to force him awake – the screen behind him beeped. Coran turned to look at the results, and his knees grew weak for a moment from relief. The toxin was a rather nasty mixture of chemicals – developed exclusively by the Galra, how surprising – whose affects were indeed noticeable only about a varga after it entered the body; but it was also a familiar substance, and as Coran skimmed through the list of ingredients for the antidote he realized they had them all stored in the castle's lab.

He could save Lance's life.

Coran turned back to Lance. "I have the best of news, Number Three," he announced. "I have everything I need to clear out the toxin from your system right here at the castle. I just need to make a quick visit to the lab – fifteen dobashes at most – and then we can fix you up."

He expected Lance to be thrilled, but the boy's glazed over eyes widened in fear and he grabbed Coran's sleeve with surprising force. "D-don't go," he wheezed. "Please."

Coran's heart dropped. He'd completely forgotten it was only the two of them at the castle at the moment; if he left for the lab, Lance would stay here all by himself, hurt and sick and completely helpless.

But what else could he do? He had to go and make the antidote as soon as possible, otherwise Lance would… no, he didn't even dare think about this option. But the others were currently busy fighting an entire Galra fleet; he couldn't ask one of them to come back just to watch Lance when they were so much more needed out there.

He would have called the mice if he could, but he had no idea where they were – hopefully not making a mess in the laundry room again – and he didn't share the same telepathic bond Allura had with them.

Coran sighed. There was no other choice.

"I am so sorry, my dear boy," he said for the second time today. "But I must go and make the antidote; it is the only way to heal you up. I will not be long - I swear it on everything I hold dear in this universe."

Lance's grip around his sleeve loosened the slightest bit, but he still wasn't ready to let go. "I…" he shivered. "I know. But… I'm scared." He released a choke sob. "Sorry. It's stupid."

"It is not," Coran said gently. "You are in quite a scary situation here, after all. But I promise you will feel a whole lot better very soon." And before he could give it too much thought, he bent down and planted a kiss on the blue paladin's sweaty forehead. It seemed to marginally calm him down as he finally let his hand drop to the bed. Coran smiled and ran his fingers one more time through the disheveled brown hair.

"I'll be back before you know it," he promised and hurried out of the room, making sure his tablet was connected to the cryosuit's sensors so he could still watch Lance's vitals.

Once he got to the lab he was in such hurry he managed to break four tubes and one flask before the antidote was ready. Allura might frown upon it, but she'd surely understand once he explained to her what exactly was at stake at the time.

Barely ten dobashes later he stormed back into the infirmary, the vial with the antidote held firmly in his fist. Lance was in the same fetal position he left him in, not looking better but not worse either, although Coran's keen eyes did not miss a small, fresh pool of bile on the floor under the bed. He winced internally. It would probably be best to hook the boy up to some fluids before he'd be back in the pod.

Lance's eyes were closed, but they fluttered open once he heard footsteps approaching. Was it only Coran, or were they starting to get a bit yellow around the edges? They really had no time to waste. He reached the bed in a tick and opened his palm, revealing the vial.

"You'll have to drink all of it," he said. "I cannot guarantee its taste, though."

Lance sighed in surrender. "Can't be worse than Nunvil," he murmured.

"I will never understand the human loath of such a heavenly nectar," Coran said and carefully lifted Lance to a sitting position – the poor lad was so wrung out he practically laid across Coran's chest, breathing heavily. "Come on then. Let's get you healed up."

It took a bit of coaxing as Lance was barely able to stomach the liquid, but somehow they managed to empty the vial after a few dobashes. Coran cheered softly as he placed it aside and lowered Lance back to the bed. "Excellent job, Number Three," he exclaimed. "The antidote should take action in just a dobash or two. All we have to do is put some fluids back in you, and then off to the pod again - this time until you're truly healed up."

Lance blinked tiredly, eyes already gaining back some of their original, deep blue color. "Will you stay?" he asked in a small voice.

A wave of warmth spread through Coran's chest and he took Lance's thin hand in his, squeezing it gently. "Of course I'll stay, Number Thr – " he stopped and inhaled deeply. "Lance," he said, the name rolling pleasantly on his tongue. "I'm right here with you, Lance. I'm not going anywhere."

And just like he said, he stayed, holding Lance's hand and relishing in the comfort of his steady pulse, even after the blue paladin had long fallen into a peaceful, healing sleep.

Chapter Text

Shiro raced past the long, purple-tinted hallway, opening one door after the other using his Galra arm. All the cells had been empty so far; some of them had dark stains littering the floor and walls – stains that Shiro preferred not to think what they were or who left them there. No, right now he had one mission to focus on: retrieving the blue paladin safely.

"Did you find anything?" Hunk's strained voice rang through the comms, accompanied by blasting noises and the occasional sizzle of metal being blown into pieces.

"Not yet," Shiro said mid-running, trying to keep his voice calm. "They probably took his armor, because I don't have a heat signature to follow; I'll just have to try all the doors in this section."

"We can't hold them much longer," Keith's voice joined the conversation, and Shiro was almost certain he was talking through gritted teeth. "They just – " there was a momentary pause interrupted by a violent slashing sound - "keep coming."

Shiro's heart raced in a way that had nothing to do with his running. "Hold on a bit longer, please. He has to be here somewhere."

Unless their intel was wrong and Lance has already been moved to different ship. Shiro clenched his fists; no, he couldn't think about it right now. The team was already devastated ever since Lance has been captured; hearing they'd come all the way here just to lose him again would absolutely destroy them. He had to think positive. Lance was here. They were going to bring him back home.

With this thought in mind he reached the last door at the hallway and slammed it open.

A familiar figure was sitting at the far corner of the cell, head buried between his knees, which were pulled tightly against his chest. At the sound of the door opening his head shot up and a pair of blue, terrified eyes stared at Shiro's direction, darting here and there as if was having a hard time focusing.

"Lance," Shiro barely managed to say, taking in the sight of the younger boy. The grey-and-purple prisoner outfit he was wearing was tattered and torn in several places, but other than that, he looked whole – Shiro wasn't even aware he was looking for a prosthetic limb until he heard himself releasing a long breath of relief as he realized Lance still had all his arms and legs intact. His face, however, didn't look too good: the usually tanned skin was ashen and lifeless, although his cheeks were painted dark pink, indicating a possible fever. But the worst part was his eyes: everything about them just seemed wrong. They were abnormally pale and framed by dark circles, but despite the utter exhaustion reflecting in them they kept darting in all directions, never focusing on anything.

What did the Galra do?

"Lance," Shiro repeated, louder this time. He rushed forward and knelt beside the blue paladin, placing a gentle palm on his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Lance flinched at the touch, scooting backwards to lean against the wall. He blinked several times as if trying to see Shiro better. "Sh-shiro?" he croaked through white lips, voice uncertain. "Is that really you?"

Shiro frowned. Was Lance not able to see him? The cell was dimly lit, but not completely dark; it was more than enough for Shiro to make out Lance's features. Maybe the exhaustion and fever prevented him from thinking straight? Or did he think it was just the Galra playing tricks on his mind again? Shiro felt a wave of nausea at the last thought. He hoped with all his might things hadn't come to this type of torture. Lance had been held captive for barely two quintents, but the cruelty of the Galra knew no limits and they were capable of causing enough damage even in such a short period of time.

He took a composing breath. "Yes, it's me," he said, this time placing both hands above Lance's knee so the boy could feel his human as well as his prosthetic one. Lance's breath hitched, but he didn't shy away from the touch this time. Shiro squeezed his knee slightly. "The others are here as well. We came to rescue you. I'm sorry it took us so long."

Lance scrunched his forehead. "The others… here?" he raised his head and stared at no particular direction. "Here in this room? Hunk? A-are you there?"

Okay, something was definitely wrong. Shiro's stomach flipped but he forced himself to stay calm for Lance's sake. "No, they're not here with us; they're fighting off the Galra in another part of the ship. But we'll all get out of here real soon." He swallowed thickly. "Lance, I have to ask… is there something wrong with your eyes?"

Lance's jaw twisted as if he wanted to cry. "I… I can't s-s-see," he admitted, voice breaking at the last word. "They – they injected me all kinds of stuff, I don't even know what this shit was," tears were freely trickling down his face now and he was shivering like a leaf. "I'm sorry…"

Shiro quickly grabbed Lance's sweaty palm. "You have nothing to apologize for," he said. His voice was soothing but he was screaming internally, cursing the Galra and wanting nothing more than tear this entire ship apart and then set in on fire. "None of this was your fault." It was his fault – Shiro, the black paladin of Voltron, who hadn't come here soon enough, who let Lance get captured in the first place, who was a terrible leader who couldn't even protect his fellow paladins.

But the pity party could wait for now. First he needed to get Lance out of here and figure out how to fix all of this.

Shiro cleared his throat. "Alright, let's get going. The lions are waiting for us just outside the back deck. Are you okay with a piggyback ride?" he tried not to make it sound as if Lance was completely helpless, but he truly doubted his ability to run across the hallways in this state, even if he had his eyesight.

Lance hesitated for a moment, then gave a weak nod. Shiro turned around and knelt with his back to him, carefully grabbing Lance's thin wrists and guiding them to wrap around his upper chest. "Can you wrap your legs around my waist? I'm right here in front of you."

Lance did as he was told and Shiro finally rose to a stand. It wasn't particularly comfortable – Lance didn't weigh too much but his long, lanky limbs made it pretty cumbersome to carry him around – but Shiro was determined to handle it, especially after Lance buried his head in the nape of his neck and he could feel the heat radiating from him. He turned on his comm. "I found Lance," he said curtly. "I'll meet you at the back deck in a few dobashes. Everything clear on your side?"

"As much as it can be," Keith instantly replied. "Is Lance alright?" he sounded unusually concerned about his so-called rival.

Shiro waited a long moment before answering. "He'll be fine," he said eventually, praying it was true.

**

Coran tried to be as gentle as possible when he checked Lance at the infirmary, since the latter still seemed to jerk away from every little touch even after hearing everyone's voices, who had assured him he was safe and back at the castle. Shiro knew it was probably from being sick and tired and unable to see what was coming at him, but he had a dark feeling those weren't the only reasons to this sudden aversion to touch. In any case, he appreciated the old advisor's efforts.

If Coran had any similar thoughts he kept them to himself. His expression was mild and businesslike as he reviewed the medical scans, humming to himself from time to time.

"Well, generally speaking, it seems that Number Three is in a decent physical condition," he said eventually. Shiro released a sigh of relief and glanced at Lance, who was currently lying on one of the infirmary's beds with an ice pack on his forehead. The room was empty save for the three of them – the others have left in respect of Lance's privacy, although the boy had insisted Shiro would stay. He didn't express it in words, but the panicked gasp he let out once his leader announced his intention to leave as well and let Coran do his job in peace was enough to change Shiro's mind immediately. He was willing to do everything in his power to help Lance feel better, and if his presence provided him even the slightest sense of comfort, he would stay with him for as long as he was needed.

"There are some traces of… foreign substances in his system," Coran continued, carefully choosing his words. "Which is the main reason for his temperature and general fatigue. However, the levels of those substances are pretty low and should wear off on their own in the next varga or so. As for the blindness, the good news is that it seems to be temporary; the, um, less good news is that I cannot let you in a pod until it your sight is back." He aimed the last sentence at Lance, his tone apologetic. Lance tensed in his place but didn't say anything.

Shiro turned to Coran. "Why can't he go in a pod? Shouldn't those things be able to fix this?"

"Well, they could in other circumstances, but considering this particular lack of sight was caused by a what was likely a toxin – " Shiro could hear Lance's breath hitch again and quickly placed a soothing hand on his lower arm – "I would not take the risk. This could interfere with the pod's program and hinder the healing process. The safest option would be to wait until this toxin is out of Lance's system, resulting in the recovery of his eyesight naturally. I believe this would take a couple of vargas, so in the meantime we shall continue with the ice packs and also put some fluids in you, my dear boy. Would you rather take it in liquid or an IV?"

Lance winced at the last word and small beads of sweat appeared on his face. "No more n-needles," he blurted out.

Shiro's heart clenched and even Coran seemed shaken for the first time today, judging by the slight tremble of his moustache. "Very well then," he said with some effort. "Number One, you can find a stock of water pouches in that cabinet right over there." He gestured toward one of the corners. "Now, will you be alright with keeping Lance company while I go and give the rest of the team a quick update about his condition?"

"Absolutely," Shiro smiled at the advisor. "Thanks, Coran. We'll be okay."

Coran nodded. He gave Lance one last look, eyes wrinkling with affection. Then, he left.

Shiro turned back to Lance. "So, what do you say about some water? I'm sure you'll feel a lot better after you drink."

Lance sighed, looking even more drained than before. "Okay," he mumbled.

Shiro walked to the cabinet Coran had showed him and scooped up a handful of pouches, hoping to get Lance to drink at least two of these in the next few vargas. He placed them on the nightstand and set about re-arranging Lance's pillows to make him more upright. However, Lance instantly flinched at the sudden invasion to his personal space and rolled away, nearly falling off the edge of the bed.

"Sorry!" Shiro called, nearly slapping himself for his oblivion. "It's just me. I should've told you I was here, I'm so sorry."

"S'okay," Lance panted, although he still looked pretty agitated. "I – I can sit by myself." He planted his palms on the bed and pulled himself up with a grunt. The ice pack slipped from his forehead and fell into his lap, but Shiro was reluctant to get any closer to Lance's face, so he let it rest there for the time being. Instead he carefully guided Lance to sit against the pillows, fingers barely brushing his body. Then he picked up one water pouch and placed it in his hand. He was relieved to see the boy's fingers wrap around it on their own, albeit shakily.

It took him a few moments of trial and error – Shiro barely stopped himself from helping – but eventually Lance's chapped lips found the straw and he started to suck on it, shoulders relaxing marginally.

"Take it slow, buddy," Shiro said gently. "We have time."

They sat in silence for a while until Lance finished about a half of the pouch and put it down. His eyes drooped and he looked like he was about to pitch forward at any second.

"How about you try to sleep for a while?" Shiro suggested. "I'll be here if you need anything."

Lance shook his head. "I don't think I can," he said gloomily. "I mean, if I wake up and still be like – like this," he waved a hand in front of his eyes, "I'm pretty sure I'll lose my shit."

Shiro sighed. "Yeah, I guess that makes sense."

"I'm sorry about earlier," Lance continued, looking ashamed. "It's just that… well, this whole situation kinda freaks me out, y'know."

"I completely understand," Shiro said. "Sorry for surprising you like that. I should've been more aware."

Lance shrugged. "It's cool."

"How long…" Shiro paused, letting the words hang in the air for a moment. He wasn't sure how exactly to approach this subject, but he had to start somewhere. "How long have you been blind?"

Lance's fingers tightened around the pouch. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "Maybe half a quintent before you guys came? I – I don't know, I lost track of time at some point." His head suddenly snapped at Shiro's direction, and Shiro took an instinctive step back as sightless eyes bored into his own. "But I didn't tell them anything. I swear."

Guilt rose in Shiro's throat like bile. Did Lance honestly think this was all what they cared about? That it wasn't enough for them to have him back hole and healthy (or, soon-to-be healthy), but they were also worried about him giving away information?

"Although they didn't really ask for information," Lance continued before Shiro had the chance to respond. He stared back at his lap. "I think they wanted more to – to – " he shuddered, taking a rattling breath, "to experiment. T-that's why they gave me all this crap. Like I was their fucking guinea pig or something."

Shiro felt his legs grow weak and heart freeze in his chest. The infirmary rapidly dissipated and all he saw was bright, purple neon lights above his head, and dozens of tubes and devices he had no idea what their purpose was and a dark, hooded face twisting in a sickening grin –

He stumbled to the side and bumped into the nightstand, and suddenly he was back in the infirmary, staring right at Lance's confused face. He inhaled sharply and ran a hair through his hair, locking his knees so they would stop shaking so hard.

Everything was fine. He wasn't there anymore. He was here at the castle with his friends, and right now he had to be strong for Lance. The boy has been through enough already, he didn't need his leader to drag him into his own painful flashbacks.

"I'm sorry," he heard himself saying and hated how choked his voice sounded. "I'm so sorry you had to go through this, Lance. I'm really, really glad to have you back."

Lance tried to smile, but it didn't reach his eyes and his face fell almost instantly. "Yeah," he said faintly. "I just…" he pulled his knees to his chest and hugged himself awkwardly. "I feel so stupid."

Shiro frowned. "Why's that?"

The hand holding the pouch clenched so hard that small drops of water sprinkled on the mattress. "For letting them do this in the first place," Lance said bitterly. "For being so weak. I should've fought harder, I should've tried to escape, I…" he hiccupped and brought his other hand to cover his face. "I don't deserve to be a paladin. I'm not strong enough."

Shiro felt as if someone had punched him in the guts. This was more than Lance's normal insecurities, the ones that Shiro had come to learn about over time; this was utter desperation and self-loathing, and he could not, would not let it stand.

"Don't say that," he said firmly. "Please, Lance. You are anything but weak; the fact you went through all of this and survived is just another proof of that."

Lance sniffed, still hiding behind his palm. "Only because you guys came to save me," he whispered. "I mean, I'm glad you did – thank you, honestly, I don't think I said it yet – but as long as I was there, I couldn't even touch the Galra. One time I tried to steal a gun and take some bad guys down but…" his voice broke. "I couldn't even make it past the first druid. So pathetic."

Shiro decided he had enough. He leaned closer and grabbed Lance's wrist, forcing it away from his tear-stricken face. Lance whimpered and Shiro loosened his grip a bit, but didn't quite let go. "Lance, lo – " he was going to say 'look at me' but caught himself on time. "Listen to me. I'm going to ask you a question, and I want you to give me a sincere answer. Can you do that for me?"

Lance nodded in confusion.

Shiro took a deep breath. "Do you think I'm pathetic?"

Lance's eyes widened. "Wha – "

"Do you think I'm pathetic?" Shiro repeated.

"Of course not," Lance blurted out. "You're, like, my hero." His ears turned bright pink at the last statement.

Shiro smiled softly. "Even though I had the Galra experiment on me and take my arm?"

Lance's jaw dropped, but he seemed unable to make any sound. Shiro carefully left his wrist and placed his hand on his cheek, wiping a stray tear. The boy's face was still too hot to the touch and he made a mental note to put the ice pack back in place once he settled this down.

"I was also a victim of the Galra's cruelty," Shiro said. "They forced me to fight in the arena and do all kinds of things I'm really not proud of, not even after I came to realize they weren't my fault. And after all that, they took my arm and replaced it with yet another weapon of them. I didn't have any say in this and I couldn't do anything to stop them. And yet here I am, piloting the black lion and leading Voltron, the most powerful force in the universe. A force that is meant to save and protect, not kill and destroy." He glanced at his right arm. "The Galra might have forced this arm on me, but I managed to escape them and use it for much better purposes. And you can do it too, Lance, once you're fully healed. Whatever you went through doesn't define you, nor does it make you weak or pathetic; the Galra are the pathetic ones, for doing all those horrible things just to get more power and control. You are nothing but brave and kind and the best blue paladin we have."

Lance chuckled wetly. "I'm the only blue paladin you have."

"This doesn't mean you're not the best."

"Shiro…" Lance whispered. He lowered his knees and hunched forward, and the black paladin took the clue and scooped him in his arms, letting him bury his face in his armor.

"It's not going to be easy, dealing with everything that's happened," Shiro said quietly and rubbed Lance's back. "But I'm here for you if you ever need to talk. We're all here for you. And none of us thinks any less of you because of that, so please, please don't say those things about yourself ever again."

"O-okay," Lance said shakily, voice muffled. "Gracias, Shiro."

Shiro smiled against Lance's scalp and the knot in his chest finally loosened. "Anytime."

"And I'm here too, you know."

"Hmm?"

"I'm here… for you." Lance raised his face to look at Shiro. "You've also went through some stuff… with the Galra… I know you don't like to talk about it," he added quickly, "But if you ever feel like… I promise to listen."

Shiro felt his own eyes grow moist. "I'll bear that in mind. Gracias, Lance."

Lance huffed at Shiro's lame Spanish accent. Then he gasped sharply and fell backwards, pressing his palms to his eyes again.

"What's wrong?" Shiro asked frantically, heart leaping to his throat.

Lance slowly removed one palm and then the other, blinking rapidly. His eyes widened in wonderment. "I can see," he breathed. "Shiro, I – " he looked straight at his leader and his lips shook, "I see you."

"What?" Shiro said in disbelief. Coran had said it would take several vargas for Lance to get his eyesight back. "Are you sure?"

Lance laughed hysterically. "Um, it's pretty hard not to be sure about that," he said, grinning and shedding newfound tears at the same time.

"Lance…" Shiro couldn't help but copy the other boy's grin. He opened his arms again and Lance happily lunged into them, wrapping his own arms around the black paladin's broad back. "That's amazing, buddy. I'm really happy."

"Me too." A shiver ran through Lance's spine despite being engulfed in a tight embrace. "I know Coran said it was temporary but man, you have no idea how scared I was. I-I thought I was going to stay like this forever."

Another pang of guilt struck Shiro but he pushed it away, not wanting to ruin this joyful moment. "Well, you're not. I would never, ever let that happen. Now, do you want me to call the others so they can say hello before you go in the pod? Everyone's going to be so excited when they find out you can see again."

Lance remained silent for a long time. "In a minute," he finally said in a small voice. "I… I'd like to stay like this a little longer, if that's okay with you."

Shiro smiled and held Lance a bit closer. "Of course. As long as you need."

And so they stayed. Lance was still pretty gross and sweaty from fever, but Shiro didn't mind; He was here, and that was all that mattered. He knew the days to come were not going to be easy, but he was determined to do anything it took to make things better - for Lance, for himself and for the rest of their family. He wasn't going to let the Galra win so easily.

Chapter Text

Allura glanced at the bundle in Lance's hands and her eyes widened in awe. "I must say, you are pretty good at this." She looked down at her own work and frowned. "Better than me, if I'm being honest."

"Oh, is that jealousy that I hear in your voice?" Lance chimed, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Don't be ridiculous," Allura said, even though she could feel her cheeks heat up in spite of herself. "I just stated a fact. Also, it is not particularly polite to tease someone who had just complimented you."

Lance laughed lightly. "Alright, alright, thank you for the compliment." He bumped her shoulder gently. "Come on, Princess, don't be upset; it's supposed to be a fun, relaxing afternoon, remember?"

Allura sighed, her lips curling in a small smile. "Well, I guess you're right." The castle had taken quite a hit during their last battle; although the crystal hadn't been damaged (to everyone's immense relief), the castle still needed a couple of vargas to recalibrate – which meant all the systems were down, including the emergency ones such as the kitchen and infirmary. Considering that initiating such a process while floating in the middle of space would not be the smartest thing to do, Allura had used the castle's remaining power to land it on the nearest uninhabited planet they could find.

The first thing she noticed shortly after entering the planet's atmosphere was that it was covered with fields upon fields of flowers, so vast and colorful it took her breath away. They reminded her of flower fields in Altea, the same ones she'd loved to explore with her father so much. So, of course that the first thing she wanted to do once the castle safely landed in the middle of a field of pink and blue flowers was to go out and make some flower crowns. She felt a tad embarrassed about getting pumped up over such a childish activity, but not enough to hold herself back; after all, she just fought a ruthless battle from which they escaped at the very last tick – she's earned the right to be a little childish, if only for a few vargas.

However, to her dismay, the others weren't so excited about the idea, judging by the way they all cleared their throats and averted her gaze once she voiced her plan. Well, all except for Lance. The blue paladin's eyes literally sparkled upon hearing the words "flower crowns", and he grabbed Allura's hand and all but dragged her outside, leaving her quite winded.

The princess was reluctant at first to spend the whole afternoon alone with Lance in the huge field. It wasn't like she disliked his company, not after everything they'd been through together, but… well, the whole point of this half-day off was to rest and relax after the long battle, and Lance's flirtatious remarks could get exhausting sometimes, even long after Allura has learned not to take them seriously.

She was glad to be proven wrong though. Other than one joke about the fact they were in a field of blue and pink flower and how it was obviously a sign from the universe (at which Allura gave such an aggressive eyeroll she feared her eyes would get stuck in their sockets), Lance turned out to be a very pleasant company, chattering happily about this and that and successfully distracting her from all the stress she'd experience a short while ago. And, as she quickly noticed, he was rather skilled at making flower crowns.

"Are all humans so adept in the art of flower crowns?" she inquired. "Do you undergo special training for that in your human schools?"

Lance stared at her for a moment, then burst into a rumbling laughter. "Oh, wow, no," he said once he regained his breath. "We learn a lot of stuff at school – most of them are pretty useless, if you ask me – but making flower crowns isn't one of them." He looked down at his nearly done crown and his expression softened. "It's just something I used to do with my sisters, back when we were kids. They always dragged me into these kinds of things."

Allura leaned a bit closer to him. She loved hearing stories about the paladins' families, and Lance was probably the most enthusiastic to share those, but she always had a hard time keeping track with all of his siblings – there were just so many of them. "Remind me again how many sisters you have?" she asked, somewhat apologetically. "I'm sorry – you've probably told me this more than once, but I keep forgetting."

"Hey, it's cool, there are some people within our family who forget how many siblings we are exactly," Lance said. "I have three sisters – one older and two younger than me. And three brothers, of course."

"And did your brothers participate in your flower crown sessions as well?"

Lance huffed out a breath. "Like hell they did. They mostly laughed and threw stuff at us. Sometimes they'd tear our crowns apart, too."

"That sounds horrible!" Allura exclaimed, pressing her palm to her chest.

Lance shrugged. "Nah, it wasn't so bad. It's just what brothers do." He glanced at her carefully. "You… you're an only child, right?"

Allura nodded. "I am. I had no siblings my age to play with upon growing up, which is why I am not very familiar with sibling banter." She smiled softly. "But I loved making flower crowns with my father; I'm not sure he enjoyed it as much, but he always went with me whenever I asked him to."

"Well, he must've been a really great dad then," Lance said, mirroring her smile.

"The best." Allura felt a sudden sting behind her eyes and quickly blinked it away, intent on changing the subject. "Well then, it seems like you've nearly finished your creation, if I'm not mistaken!"

Lance jumped in his place, staring back at his crown. "Huh. I guess you're right." He twisted his nimble fingers around and tied the last knot. "There. Please accept my humble gift to you, Princess Allura of Altea; I truly hope this crown will be worthy of your royal head," He said ceremoniously and offered the crown to Allura with both hands. She chuckled and took it from him, carefully balancing it on her head. The size fit her perfectly.

"I think it is definitely worthy," she said. "Thank you, Lance, for this wonderful gift. I shall cherish it forever… or, at least as long as the flowers do not wither."

"Well, it sure highlights your beautiful sapphire eyes," Lance said with a dramatic bow. Allura rolled her eyes again and jabbed his shoulder playfully. "Please, no more of that. But do stay hunched for a tick longer so I can give you your own crown." Her crown was rather crooked, the flowers a bit squashed – no doubt Lance was a lot better in this than her – but Lance seemed happy to accept it nonetheless, smiling brightly as it rested on his head in an awkward angle.

"The color fits your eyes as well," Allura commented, making Lance's grin grow even wider.

"Thanks, Allura! You know, we should totally take a selfie!" he started picking his pockets in search of the orange 'smart-phone' he always carried around, when suddenly his head jerked forward and a large amount of air was expelled through his nose with a sharp sound Allura had long learned was called a "sneeze" (Alteans didn't have those; why in the name of Wazblay would the body want to expel air that was essential for its existence? Human biology did not make the slightest sense).

"Are you alright?" she asked with a frown. She'd also learned that sneezes could be a sign of human illness, and if Lance was suffering from one it was a thing she ought to know.

Lance rubbed a finger under his nose. "Yeah," he said. "It's probably all those flowers, they make my nose all itchy – achoo!" another sneeze. "Whoa. It's a good thing Pidge isn't here, she would've probably dropped dead by now."

"Perhaps it's best we head back to the castle," Allura suggested. "Staying here is clearly not doing you any good."

"No!" Lance protested. "Come on, it's so nice and warm out here! The castle's all dark and boring! I'm fine, really, a bit of sneezing won't kill – aaa-choooo!" he sneezed again, this time with such force it nearly sent his entire body toppling to the ground. "Gah…" his nose was bright red now, as well as the rims of his eyes, which started to swell at a frightening pace.

Allura tilted her head in confusion. "What is that thing you are doing with your eyes and nose?" she asked. "Are you shapeshifting? I thought humans weren't capable of that."

Lance shook his head weakly, rubbing at his swollen eyes. "I think I have an allergic reaction," he sniffled. "Never happened to me on Earth, but I guess alien flowers are different." a shiver wrecked his body. "Y'know, maybe we should return to the castle after all… I-I don't feel so good…"

"Absolutely." Allura got to her feet and offered her hand to Lance. He took it gratefully and pulled himself up, teetering and sneezing nonstop. Allura quickly reached out and pried the flower crown off his head, tossing it on the ground.

"Let's have Coran take a look at you," she said and wrapped one arm around his waist to support him as they shuffled their way to the castle. "The pods might not be available right now, but I hope they won't be necessary."

"O-okay," Lance panted between sneezes, and Allura could not ignore how he seemed to be leaning more and more against her with every step. "Sorry I ruined your afternoon, Princess…"

"You did not ruin anything," Allura chided gently. "I am the one who should apologize for bringing you here; I had no idea this planet's flora would have such a negative impact on your body. I should have known better."

"Don't blame yourself. Like you said, you didn't know."

Allura pursed her lips. This was Lance, always trying to lift others' spirit and not let them wallow in guilt. She tightened her grip around him a bit more. "Let's just focus on making you better, shall we?"

**

"This is definitely an allergic reaction," Coran announced as he turned off the medical scanner. "I'm afraid the pods won't be back online for another varga or so, but I can give you an injection that would ease the worst of the symptoms. It will probably make you quite queasy though, so you might want to stay here in this comfy bed in the meantime."

"Sure, whatever," Lance said dismissively. He was curled on top of one of the infirmary's beds. Despite the dim light of the room – it was only lit by a few emergency lights at the moment – his discomfort was clear, with his runny nose and teary eyes.

"Then I shall go and fetch the serum," Coran said and turned around. As he made his way to the cabinet room, he murmured in Allura's ear, "You might want to take this thing off your head, Princess. It looks absolutely lovely on you, but I'm afraid it does not particularly help Number Three's condition at the moment."

"Oh!" Allura completely forgot she was still wearing the flower crown. She blushed deeply and took it off, handing it to Coran. "Would you be so kind to deposit this in my room once you're finished here?" she whispered. "It is very dear to me."

"Of course, Princess," Coran saluted and disappeared in the cabinet room.

Allura walked to Lance's bed and sat carefully next to his curled form. She planted one elegant hand on his forehead, smoothing away stray bangs. "You humans are rather fragile," she commented, then almost bit her tongue as she realized what she just said.

Lance didn't seem to take any offense though. "What, you want to tell me Alteans don't have allergies?"

Allura thought about it for a moment. "Well, there is a certain fruit that grows in the most southern corner of our planet that if we eat it our ears turn green for a few dobashes, but other than that, nothing comes to my mind."

"No allergies and no brain freeze," Lance muttered, leaning into her cool touch. "Damn, you're like a super species or something."

Allura smiled. "Well, we might be more physically adept than humans, but during my time with you paladins I've come to learn that humans have many great and noble traits, not less than Alteans."

"Not – " Lance paused to sneeze again – "Not all humans."

"The five I know do, and that's enough for me." She chuckled as Lance's cheeks suddenly darkened in a way that had nothing to do with his allergy.

"The serum is ready," Coran interrupted kindly as he re-emerged from the cabinet room, holding a syringe in one hand. "Princess, if you can step aside for just two ticks so I can give it to Number Three, please."

"Of course," Allura complied, wincing a bit as Coran approached with the syringe. She was never a fan of needles – as a child she used to get so hysterical during vaccines she bit her father several times when he tried to hold her in place – but Lance seemed to be indifferent to the procedure, his mouth barely twitching when the long needle pierced his shoulder.

"All done," the old advisor said and placed the syringe on the nightstand. "The expulsion of air and liquids through your facial orifices should stop in the next few dobashes, but like I said, it's best for you to stay in bed in case you feel nauseous."

"Thanks, C'ran," Lance said faintly.

"I'll stay here," Allura said and settled back on the bed. "Thank you, Coran, but I can watch Lance while you take care of the recalibration process."

"Are you sure?" Lance turned his gaze to her hesitantly. "I'll be fine on my own, honestly, you don't have to stay."

Allura crossed her arms. "I'm not sure if I should be offended by your suggestion that I roam aimlessly in this dark, boring castle instead of sitting here with you. Are you not enjoying my company?"

Lance's eyes widened in shock, but his eyelids were still pretty swollen, making his complexion rather ridiculous; Allura had to bit the inside of her cheeks in order not to laugh. "O-of course I enjoy your company," he blurted out, all flirtatious manners gone in his panic. "Please, s-stay as much as you want!"

"That is a much better answer." She winked at Coran, who raised his eyebrows in amusement before leaving.

They both sat in comfortable silence for a while, before Lance spoke up. "I know I sometimes say all those… stuff," he glanced sideways sheepishly, "but you actually remind me a lot of my big sister."

"Oh, really? How so?" Allura asked.

"Well, first of all, you're both really pretty."

"Lance!" Allura scolded, and Lance jerked in his place. "Oh, come on, I didn't mean it like that! Damn it…" he rubbed a hand over his face and Allura once again barely contained her laughter. "You said yourself it's rude to tease someone who compliments you!"

"I do remember saying something of that sort," Allura said. "Very well, I accept your compliment. So, how does your sister look?" she wondered if she looked like Lance, because she might never say this to him – not if she wanted to keep his head from growing so big until it exploded – but the blue paladin was quite aesthetically pleasing; especially his skin, only a few shades lighter then hers and absolutely flawless thank to his strict cosmetics routine (although his ears were still hideous, as all human ears were).

"She has this really long hair, all the way down to her waist," Lance said. "Kind of like yours, but hers is completely black, like a crow. All the boys in the neighborhood go crazy after that hair, even now that she's married."

"Well, her husband must be a very lucky man."

"Yeah. He's a really good man. Which he had to be, because Mari deserves only the best. Ah, that's her name. Marisol."

"Marisol," Allura repeated. The name had a lovely sound to it and she liked the way the syllables rolled on her tongue.

"Also…" Lance's voice faltered for a while as he seemed to be lost in memory. "She'd always sit with me when I was sick. My mom did that too, but we were a lot of kids and she didn't always have the time so… Mari would come in her place. She'd tell me all the hot gossip from her school and sing all these silly songs she made up just to cheer me up."

"This sure sounds lovely, but I will have to refrain from doing so," Allura admitted. "My singing voice is quite terrible, to put it mildly, and I'm afraid it will only make you feel worse."

Lance released a squeaking laughter, wincing as it made his still-sensitive eyes water again. "Okay, now I have to hear you sing, Princess."

Allura's ears twitched. "Maybe some other time," she said stiffly.

"Oooh, touchy subject," Lance teased and Allura shot him a glare. He flinched away, although his lips were still curled in a smirk. "And here's another way you remind me of my sister – both of you can get really scary when you're angry."

"I fail to see how this is a compliment!" Allura flared.

"But it is," Lance said. "It means you're both strong and fierce women who don't let anyone mess with them or the people they care about. My family back on Earth was full of women just like that, so it's good to have some awesome space sisters as well. You, Pidge."

Allura felt her heart melt and didn't bother to hide it anymore. She flashed Lance a sincere grin and took his hand in hers. "That was a beautiful thing to say, Lance."

"A beautiful lady deserves to hear beautiful words."

She gave his hand a squeeze tight enough to make him yelp, but eased her grip a tick later. "Well, your Earth family sounds simply wonderful, Lance. I… I know you miss them a lot, but I'm glad you were able to find a family in us as well." Lance's eyes clouded for a moment and she brushed a thumb across his palm. "But I'm certain you are a great brother yourself, too. I can tell it from the way you look after our green paladin. She might not voice it out loud, but she is very fond of you."

"Whoa, Pidge told you this?"

Allura winked. "A princess has her ways."

Lance's eyes brightened again, but suddenly he grimaced and curled tighter into himself. "Quiznak, here comes the nausea Coran was talking about."

Allura's heart clenched. "Would you like some Nunvil? It can do wonders to – "

"Oh, please no, anything but that," Lance whined before she could finish her sentence. "Can you just… I don't know, tell me a story? About your own family or whatever, I don't know, anything that'll make me not think about Nunvil. Or my breakfast."

Allura placed a thumb under her chin in thought. "Hmm… what should I tell you… well, although I had no brothers or sisters to play with, I did get to spend some time with my cousins during family gatherings and such. We'd play all kinds of silly games. There was this one time they dared me to shave Coran's moustache in his sleep."

Lance gasped so loudly he nearly choked. "Please be as much specific as you can about this," he wheezed.

Allura laughed and began her story. Sitting in the dark infirmary with a sick paladin might not be as refreshing as hanging out in the sun in a flower field, but she couldn't think of a more perfect way to spend her free afternoon. She was with her family, the only and most precious one she had, and that was the most important thing.

Chapter Text

"Lance, we've been waiting for you for nearly fifteen dobashes," Keith called through the closed door to Lance's room. "You better get your ass to the training deck, or I'll tell Shiro to drag you there by force." Honestly, he didn't understand why Shiro had sent him of all people to fetch Lance after the blue paladin had failed to show up for their morning training.

"Tell Hunk to go," Keith said automatically once Shiro ordered him to go to Lance's room and check on him.

Shiro raised an eyebrow. "But I asked you. Is there a problem with that?"

Keith blushed deeply. "N-no. I'll go." He turned on his heels and stomped out of the training deck, trying his best to ignore Pidge and Hunk's giggles.

Lance had probably overslept or was busy smearing his face with one of those disgusting lotions he stored in his room. Keith really didn't have the energy to deal with it so early in the morning, but Shiro had asked and he could never say no to Shiro. So, there he was.

He knocked on the door again. "Don't make me kick this thing open."

"I-I'll be down in a minute!" Lance's voice rang from inside, at least an octave higher than normal.

Keith frowned. "Are you okay in there?"

"I said I'm fine! Just give me a minute! Or maybe two – ah, Quiznak, not again!"

Okay, now Keith started to get suspicious. "Lance, what the hell is going on?" he demanded.

"Nothing! Everything's fine! I've got this under control, I swear!" Lance rambled, still in this weirdly high-pitched voice.

Having enough experience with things that happened right after Lance used the words "under control", Keith hit the opening button of the sliding door and burst into the room, ready to face whatever calamity the blue paladin has brought upon himself this time.

To his utter surprise, the room looked quite normal. A bit messier than usual – Lance had always had a good sense of order and hygiene, strangely enough – but nothing that raised any immediate suspicion. Lance himself was sitting on the edge of his bed, still wearing his pajamas. He was clutching a small bottle in his fist and stared at Keith through very red, very swollen eyes, looking rather agitated.

Keith inhaled and exhaled slowly. "Okaaaay. This place doesn't look like a war zone and you're more or less in one piece, for all I can see, so why the hell are you not wearing your armor?"

Lance pursed his lips. "I'm having a bit of a situation here."

"And what would that situation be, exactly?"

"Nothing you can help with!"

Keith clenched and unclenched his fists, trying his best not to scream. They were going to be here all morning at this rate. He nodded towards the bottle in Lance's hand. "Does it have anything to do with this thing?"

Lance threw his head backwards and groaned. "Fine! I can't put this in on my own, okay?! I'm trying, but I keep missing every time! Happy now?!"

Keith just stared at him for a few moments, not sure how to convey that he had no idea what Lance was talking about. He cleared his throat. "Can't put what in?"

Lance rolled his ping-pong sized eyes and shook the bottle in front of Keith's face. "Those stupid eye drops Coran gave me, duh!"

Oh, that. Lance has been walking around with an eye infection since yesterday, right after they returned from a mission on a tropical planet. After determining the infection wasn't anything fatal, Coran gave Lance a bottle of Altean eye drops and ordered him to apply them into his eyes twice a day. Lance protested, claiming that he could hop in a pod instead and get his eyes healed up in less than a varga, but Coran only waved a finger in response and said he couldn't send the paladins to the pods for every little thing.

"Cryofreeze is not something to play with!" he rumbled. "Those drops are the most efficient eye medicine we have in the castle; they shall clear out the infection in no more than a quintent! So you better quit that whining of yours and go put them in!"

"Are you telling me," Keith said wearily, "you haven't managed to use these drops since yesterday?"

Lance flinched in his place, which was all the answer Keith needed. He released a snort of laughter, unable to stop himself.

Lance shot him a glare. "That's not funny!"

"It actually kind of is," Keith said, shoulders shaking. "Seriously, what's so hard about this? You just place the dropper above your eye and squeeze. You're a sniper, right? You're supposed to have a good aim."

"It's different when I have to aim at myself," Lance hissed. "I just – I don't like things getting too close to my eyes, okay? It freaks me out. Like, I'm really lucky to have a 20/20 vision because I'd never be able to handle contact lenses."

Well, that actually made a lot of sense, even though Keith still found the whole situation quite hilarious. He turned his back to Lance. "Well, I don't think I can help you," he said. "So you better find a solution and come to deck before I tell everyone about your eye phobia."

"Wait!" Lance jumped and caught Keith's shoulder. "You have to help me, man! I can't let my beautiful eyes stay infected forever!"

Keith shook his grip off. "What exactly do you want me to do?"

Lance took Keith's hand and placed the bottle in it. "Put those in for me. It's only one drop for each eye."

Oh, no. Hell no. Keith was happy to help a friend in need every now and then, but this was way out of line. Nope. Not happening.

As if reading his thoughts, Lance said, "Hey, you help Shiro patch himself up after training or battles sometimes, right? How is that different?"

Well, it was different. Shiro was like a brother to Keith; they had known each other for years and have been through so much together. Lance, on the other hand… well, he wasn't exactly a stranger, but they weren't the closest friends either. Keith has always taken a long time to open up to people - especially people like Lance, who always had to make such a big deal of everything. One time Keith asked him for some shampoo after his ran out and Lance nearly hyperventilated with excitement, rambling about Keith finally taking care of his ugly mullet for more than half a varga until Keith gave up and washed his hair with soap (which had more or less the same effect, honestly, but that didn't stop Lance from giving him the stink eye all dinner).

Keith crossed his arms. "Why don't you ask someone else to do it for you?"

Lance deflated a bit. "Well, Allura and Coran are busy upgrading the castle's defense systems this morning, I don't want to bother them."

"How about the other paladins?"

Lance raised three fingers and started to fold them in a count down. "Hunk always gets nervous in these situations, so his hands will probably shake too much; Shiro can probably do it without blinking, but he might break the bottle if he presses too hard with his Galra hand; and Pidge will probably insist on documenting this for future blackmail and I really don't want to mess with her." He looked back at Keith, reddish eyes begging. "Please, Keith. I know you're not entirely comfortable with this, but I swear I wouldn't have asked if I hadn't needed your help for real. Come on, I'll owe you one."

Keith sighed. Damn Lance and his puppy eyes (which were even more puppy-like now, all puffy and moist as if he was going to burst into tears). His fist tightened around the bottle. "Alright, let's get this over with. Sit down and tilt your head back."

Lance grinned brightly (and no, Keith most certainly did not feel all warm inside because of that). "Yes sir," he saluted and did as he was told.

Keith placed his left thumb under Lance's chin to keep it in place while holding the bottle with his right hand. "Let's start with your right eye. Keep it wide open," he ordered. "Can you pull your eyelid down for me?"

Lance placed two fingers about an inch below his right eye and pulled, creating a small pocket between his lower eyelid and eyeball.

"Alright," Keith said, making sure the dropper was placed exactly above Lance's lower eyelid. "One, two, thr – "

But before he even managed to say "three" Lance squeezed his eyes shut, and the drop landed on his cheek and slid down his face uselessly.

"Lance!" Keith snapped. "Come on! The whole point is not to close your eyes!"

"Sorry, sorry!" Lance waved his hands frantically. "I just wasn't ready, that's all! Let's try one more time, I promise I won't mess it up!"

Keith huffed out an exasperated breath and grabbed Lance's chin once more, aiming for the same spot. But just as he squeezed the bottle Lance closed his eyes again and jerked his head backwards, making the drop land on his upper lip this time.

Keith threw his arms in the air. "Okay, I can't do this. I give up."

"Well, I'm sorry!" Lance lashed out. "I told you I freak out every time someone gets close to my eyes!"

"Then what do you want me to do, knock you unconscious?!" Keith was more than tempted to do so at this point; just one clear punch to the nape of Lance's neck and he would be completely compliant…

Lance scrambled backwards until his back met the wall. "Oh, no way. You're going to go all Galra on me and give me a concussion."

Keith pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand. What the hell was he doing? He was obviously wasting his time when he could be training and kicking some bot's ass instead. He should have never agreed to help Lance in the first place, because honestly, when has this guy ever helped him with something, huh? All he ever did was telling lame jokes and challenging Keith to pointless fights and making fun of his hair and –

An idea suddenly struck Keith's mind and he froze for a second, then took a deep breath and climbed on the bed, hovering over Lance who was still leaning against the wall. "Fine, let's try this one more time," he said calmly. "I'm going to need your help with something after this anyway, since you said you'd owe me one."

Lance tilted his head in confusion. "Really? What is it?"

Keith shrugged. "I was thinking of cutting my hair, but it's hard to do it on my own."

Lance's eyes widened like a pair of plates. "You what – "

And that was when Keith used his lightning-quick instincts to place the bottle right above Lance's right eye and squeeze, the drop landing precisely at the center of his eyelid.

Lance yelped, and Keith wasted no time tossing the bottle aside and catching Lance's right eyebrow and lower eyelid between his fingers, pressing them together to force his eye shut. "Gotcha," he panted.

"What the cheese, Keith?!" Lance shrieked, squirming and kicking in all directions, but Keith straddled his hips and pinned him down to the bed. "You – you tricked me!"

"I got the drop in your eye," Keith said, smirking triumphantly. "I regret nothing."

"You monster," Lance whined. "Let go of me!"

"In a few seconds," Keith said. "We need to make sure your eye absorbs as much of the drop as possible."

"I have a funny taste in my mouth."

"Oh, cry me a river."

"Quit making eye-related jokes already!"

Keith snorted, then finally released Lance's head. Lance slowly blinked his right eye open, his expression is that of utter betrayal.

"I can't believe you lied just to give me eye drops," he said, pouting like an angry toddler. "I feel so defiled."

Keith rolled his eyes. "Well, it was the only way to get the damn thing in, so you should really thank me for that."

"So you're not going to cut your hair? I can still do it for you, you know, it'll look so much better than – "

"Besides, I wasn't entirely lying. I do mean to cut my hair, but I've already asked Allura for help, so it's none of your concern."

This time Lance's eyes widened so much they nearly popped out of their sockets. "You're going to have a haircut session with Allura? Well that's just unacceptable – eeeeeeeh!" he screeched as Keith instilled another drop at the center of his left eyelid. "Will you stop doing that?!"

"Relax, I'm done," Keith said and finally climbed off Lance's hips. "You are so easy to fool, it's pathetic. And keep this eye closed."

Lance sputtered furiously, but kept his left eye shut as ordered. Keith placed the bottle on the nightstand and rubbed his palms in content. "Good. Next time ask someone else to help you because I'm not doing that again. Now go get your armor, we've already wasted enough time."

Lance didn't move. "You're a heartless freak."

"And you're a big baby."

"I guess the last part was a lie too? Allura's not going to cut your hair?"

Keith thought about it for a moment, then decided he'd probably messed around with Lance enough for one day. "No, she's not. I like my hair the way it is, thank you very much."

Lance's shoulders slumped. "Well, I can't believe I'm saying this, but that's a relief." Then, his expression softened. "Thanks, Keith. I… I know I'm not always the easiest person to deal with, but you stayed and helped me nonetheless. I appreciate that. You… you're okay. You're not completely heartless."

Keith felt his ears heat up and glanced aside, not sure what to say. "Um, sure. Whatever. I-I'm glad I helped."

Lance grinned. "Best bonding moment ever, am I right?"

Keith bristled. "Shut up! I'm going back to training. You can either join us or stay here, I honestly couldn't care less!" and with that he stormed out of the room, followed by Lance's shrieking laughter.

How? How did Lance always get under his skin like that? Even when Keith was the one who'd tricked him and had the upper hand?

Well, it was kind of fun messing around like this. He didn't remember the last time he had such a joyful banter with someone; he had similar encounters back when he was a kid at the orphanage, but those were never in good spirits and never ended well, at least not for him.

Keith scoffed and shook his head. Well, at least he got Lance to owe him a favor. This will surely come in handy sometime in the future; an eye for an eye, right?

He stopped at once, staring at the wall in front of him in horror. Did... did he just make a Lance joke?

On a second thought, maybe it would be better not to spend so much time with the blue paladin.