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They’d talked about this. It’s just that, when it actually happened, it hurt more than Shiro could have ever anticipated.
He knew he could put an end to it at any moment. He’d seen Keith’s eyes in the shadow of the hallway, wide and pleading and sorry. Sorry that Lance had chosen him, and not Shiro; sorry that he had acted on his feelings; sorry that, for the first time in over a century, Keith was being intimate with someone who wasn’t him.
Shiro had said, I’m happy for you. The two of you are good for each other, I think.
Keith had said, And what about you?
And Shiro hadn’t been able to answer that. But he knew that, if it were him, Keith would have let them be. He would have let Shiro have happiness with Lance. It was only fair to give Keith and Lance the same grace.
He could end it. Keith would break it off with Lance as soon as Shiro asked him to.
But he could never ask that of him. Instead, he was making pancakes for Lance in the quiet kitchen with Thace, who kept giving him sideways glances in between peering at the cooking tutorial he’d pulled up on his iPhone. Shiro didn’t know why Thace owned an iPhone. The infernal devices confused him to no end. Touchscreens. Hmph.
“Shiro,” Thace said, after they finished the pancakes to the best of their ability and begun chopping the fruit, “I can practically hear your brooding from here.”
Shiro grunted noncommittally and chugged the rest of his coffee, gulping loudly.
Thace folded his arms. “I don’t suppose your grumpiness has anything to do with Keith and Lance’s, er, consummation last night?”
Shiro shot him a dark look and rinsed his coffee mug out as aggressively as possible.
“Sorry, silly question,” Thace sighed, shaking his head. “But, really...I don’t understand you. You and Keith are as closely bonded as Ulaz and I, if not moreso. Bordering on codependency sometimes.” Shiro’s frown intensified and he hurriedly added, “So, it just seems strange to me, that you would let Keith do this with Lance, although you clearly also have feelings for the boy, and even more clearly are unhappy with not being included in their –”
“I’m going on patrol,” Shiro declared, stalking towards the door. “The Galra could be back at any moment; our territory isn’t safe anymore. Keep Lance indoors. He needs to rest.” He sighed, shoulders slumping. “So does Keith.”
Thace watched him go with furrowed brows. “Oh, Shiro,” he said. “Must you always be so self-sacrificing? At least talk to him...to them both.”
Shiro left without answering.
*
Whenever his sire instincts reared their ugly head too high, Shiro preferred to shift into his panther form. It felt more natural, padding through the forest, his forest, on four legs with his head held high, scenting the air for danger, ears pricked and claws ripping into the earth with every step. In this form, he felt he had more control. If any Galra dared cross his path, Shiro would tear them asunder and keep their head as a trophy to frighten the others off –
He shook himself. His panther form preferred to solve problems with violence. That had served him well when he and the Blade had infiltrated Lotor’s garrison to save Keith and Lance...his black pelt shuddered, remembering the hot spray of Galran blood across his scarred muzzle; flesh parting under vicious claws and teeth; bones cracking and screams echoing through dark chambers; the eerie violet lights surrounding him, trapping him, reminding him of a past he could never escape…
Shiro stopped short, leaning his head forward against the rough bark of the nearest tree, a great oak, and closing his eyes. The image of Lance wrapped in Keith’s trembling arms was burnt onto the backs of his eyelids. His skin, always a warm, glowing brown, had been ashen and clammy. His bright blue eyes were half-closed, rolled back in his head, hazy with unconsciousness. And his blood...there had been so much, too much, splattered over Keith’s shirt and all down Lance’s neck and side, staining the cell floor and Keith’s frantic fingertips as he tried to staunch the flow with little success.
Keith had shifted for the first time just from the ancient magic in Lance’s blood. If they hadn’t known for certain just how powerful the human’s blood was before, they did now. Keith had stared at Shiro with wide yellow eyes, and in the quiet of their minds, whispered, It’s Henry all over again.
Shiro had growled, padding into the cell, ignoring the corpses of the guards he had destroyed, and nudged Lance’s unmoving face, straining to hear a pulse. After a few moments, he heard it, faint but present, and he could have cried in relief. He hadn’t cried, though. It was no time for tears.
No. He lives. Come, we must leave this place.
Takashi…
Now, Keith. Keith had gathered Lance up in his half-wing arms and clambered onto Shiro’s back, cradling Lance close to his chest and clinging on tight as Shiro took off at a hard run down the tunnel, passing the carnage he’d left behind.
You killed them, Keith whispered.
What choice did I have?
Shiro sighed, stepping away from the tree and rearing up on his strong back legs to rake his claws down the length of the trunk, ripping into thick bark like tissue paper.
Someone screamed.
Shiro whirled, teeth bared and claws out...only to falter as he saw none other but Lance Espinosa standing there, eyes huge and hands raised in surrender. They stared at each other for several long seconds.
“…Shiro?” Lance breathed, disbelieving.
Shiro blinked at him and cocked his head, eyes narrowing. What are you doing out here, little one? Lance couldn’t hear him. Only other vampires could, and Lance was human. Another reminder that this was a bad idea.
Lance shook his head slowly. “What the hell. When you said you could turn into a black cat, this is not what I was imagining. This isn’t a cat, Shiro. This is slightly more than just a cat.”
I can turn into a small black cat too, Shiro thought peevishly. But of course you always have to see me at my worst. His displeasure translated in a low, unhappy chuff as he sat back on his haunches. Lance’s face did a twitchy thing. He was nervous. Shiro was so much larger than him in this form, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t like how small Lance looked in his looming shadow.
Yet, Lance wasn’t running. Foolish boy. But wasn’t that why Shiro liked him?
“Can – can you not talk?
Not to you. But he didn’t have to talk to get his message across – he reached out with a large paw and pushed Lance lightly backwards, in the direction of the house.
Lance resisted. “You want me to go back to the house to eat more pancakes and sleep?”
Shiro eyed him. Yes, and you will, if you know what’s good for you.
But Lance said, “No. I went to find you, and I found you, so I’m not going anywhere.”
Lance went looking... for him? Shiro could not deal with this right now. Not after everything...long tail lashing, he let out a growl that would hopefully scare the silly human off, and stalked away through the trees. Why would Lance go looking for him? He had all he wanted under the blankets of the guest bed.
Bitterness and envy are not becoming traits, Takashi, he scolded, walking faster.
But Lance pursued him, voice trailing after Shiro even as he attempted to ignore it. He managed to block out all of the words, until Lance gasped, “I’m still recovering; it’s not good for me to be running!”
Shiro stopped; the boy had found his weakness. As he was prone to doing. Damn you, he thought, and turned warily back to him.
“Right,” Lance said. “I, uh, I wanted to talk to you. About the thing I accidentally told you about last night.”
No. Oh, no. There would never be a good time for Shiro to tell Lance about his past as the Champion. The human was already afraid of him, as evidenced by his elevated heart rate and dilated pupils whenever Shiro so much as glanced at him. This would scare him off for good, and maybe that was the best course of action, but Shiro couldn’t bring himself to let Lance go. Not yet.
“Thace told me to talk to you about it,” Lance added. “And he did try to stop me from going to find you now, but, y’know, I figured I should at least try.”
You had one fucking job, Thace.
Lance didn’t give up easy, and his expression fixed into a little pout. “You’re not gonna let me ask questions? Not even yes or no questions? Wait, are you moody because of the Haggar thing, or…or is it something else?”
Today was just not his day. Shiro should have run away right then. He should have roared in Lance’s face and sent him packing. But he couldn’t. He could only sit there, shoulders hunched and eyes averted, like a pining idiot.
“Oh, shit,” Lance whispered, eyes wide, quickly reaching his own conclusion. “Are you mad about me and Keith? He told you, didn’t he? Or you figured it out…and now you’re pissed at me.”
Shiro was pissed, yes. But at himself, more than anyone else. So he shook his head.
“Bullshit, you are, aren’t you?” Lance wrung his hands and Shiro watched him, gut twisting. The boy’s guilt was palpable. How could Shiro ever treat him cruelly? “I’m sorry, it was my fault, I take full responsibility, I know you guys are close and Thace was kinda saying you’re really protective when it comes to Keith and obviously you don’t want some stranger with him and –”
You are not a stranger, Shiro assured, padding towards him with a gentle chuff and shaking his head. You are Lance. You are our friend. And I care about you very much. Too much.
“You’re…you’re really not mad?” Lance’s heart pattered away in his chest like the summer rains. Shiro could listen to it forever.
But instead, he nodded again, and made another soft sound, because Lance seemed to like those.
“You’re sure? ‘Cause, um, I gotta be upfront with you and say that I kinda really wanna date Keith. I don’t just want a fling or whatever. I like him, a lot. Are you cool with that, or –”
He nodded. His heart hurt. Keith deserved someone like Lance. He’d never really had a choice in lovers, before...there had only ever been Shiro. Shiro was glad he had the opportunity to choose, now...and he had chosen well, so well.
Shiro just wished it wasn’t so painful to give them both up, all at once.
“Oh,” Lance said. “I…okay, then. Awesome.” But he didn’t look convinced, and to Shiro’s surprise, he stepped closer and murmured, “If that’s not it, then what’s up? Why are you moping around and mutilating trees when you should be napping? If you’re worried the Galra will come, just chill. You’re the only vampire out and about right now.”
Shiro sighed. I am selfish, he said. It makes me sick when I think of the Galra touching you, even though I am just as bad as them.
Oblivious, Lance stepped even closer, until Shiro could smell him. He smelled like Keith. “What if I stay with you while you nap?” Lance suggested. He was trying to persuade Shiro to sleep beside him. As a giant panther. Oh, his life was truly a satire of the worst sort.
But again, Lance would not give up. “Look, you need to sleep. Sleep always helps to deal with, like, everything. And if you’re so worried that I’m gonna get kidnapped again, then won’t it make it better for you if I’m right there? Literally within arm’s…paw’s…reach?”
Well, there was an appeal to that.
“I’m a genius, aren’t I,” Lance declared. “Pick a tree, time’s a wastin.’”
Shiro sat down at the base of the clawed oak tree, ignoring Lance’s snark, and as soon as his belly touched the leaves he realized just how sleepy he was. Lance stared as he yawned, revealing rows of sharp white teeth. Shiro put his head on his paws and watched, waiting as Lance sat down nearby...but not near enough. After a bit of persuasive rumbling and intent staring, Lance finally got the message and sat close enough to touch.
Good. That was good. Shiro could smell them both, this way, Lance and Keith, and keep them both safe. His panther reasoning was decidedly flawed, but the way Lance pet his back was not.
Shiro blinked at him, curious. Lance apologized at once and stopped petting, but Shiro had no complaints, and shifted to lean into him further. He liked pets, and he liked Lance more.
Thankfully, Lance was brave enough to continue petting him, stroking his palm down Shiro’s side and rubbing his shoulder. Shiro yawned again, content, and tried to tell himself that if this was the only form Lance would touch him in, it would be alright. Everything was warm and lazy, like this, and it took a great deal of effort not to flop on top of Lance and curl around him and never let go. That, Shiro thought, might be crossing the unspoken line between them.
Still, when Lance asked to touch his paw, Shiro gladly complied, setting one forepaw down on Lance’s knee. He realized too late that his claws were terribly close to other parts, and was glad his blush was invisible as a clueless Lance fondled his paw, squeezing on the grayish paw pads to unsheathe his claws and squealing over “giant toe beans.” Shiro was often bewildered by humans, this one in particular. He enjoyed the attention, regardless.
It wasn’t long before Lance moved the paw away, though, and let him be. Shiro pushed down his disappointment, telling himself he was lucky to even be allowed this close, and settled down for a long nap.
He dreamed of Lance.
They were in a hidden forest pool, one he had visited with Keith many decades ago, and Lance was swimming through the cool, clear water with a smile, the fragmented sunlight painting him in a shifting pattern of gold and brown. His clothes were long gone, and he stretched without shame, shooting Shiro a bright smile as he did.
Keith sat on a boulder on the shore, wiggling his toes in the water, his head tilted down and away, smile visible from the way his cheek curved. The sun outlined him in a hazy halo.
“Shiro,” Lance called, and Shiro swam to him as if reeled in, Lance’s body lithe and yielding in his hesitant arms. “Hi,” Lance said, looking up at him, nuzzling his nose against Shiro’s. He smelled like the sweetness of spring and the heat of the summer and the salt of the sea. Shiro felt so cold and lifeless in comparison, a store mannequin beside a real boy; the loveliest he had ever seen.
“Why won’t you tell me?” Lance whispered, his nails digging into Shiro’s shoulders. “Keith says you hurt them. Did you hurt them, Takashi? Would you hurt me?”
And to Shiro’s horror, bitemarks bloomed on Lance’s neck and throat, opening up and spilling blood in an endless tide, staining the water around them red. Shiro’s nostrils flared, his claws unsheathed, and fangs pierced through his gums. And still, Lance clung to him, his eyes full of wonder, free of fear.
“No,” Shiro sighed. “I would never hurt you, Lance.”
Lance smiled, covered in blood and sunshine, and leaned in to kiss him.
I know.
*
Shiro awoke with a jolt, and jolted again when he saw Lance curled into his side, head lolling onto Shiro’s shoulder, arm draped over Shiro’s back, and phone forgotten in his lap. He was fast asleep and drooling slightly onto Shiro’s fur. Shiro peered at him, and for the first time, thought he understood what the phrase “warm fuzzies” meant.
Then he felt a dull burn where Lance’s neck touched him – the crystal around his neck. Its silver chain was searing his skin through the fur, and Shiro’s quiet joy dimmed. Ah, right. He was a monster and Lance was his prey. So it goes.
He eyed the crystal, which hung blue and quiet against Lance’s rising and falling chest. He didn’t understand its magic, but he could feel it, a faint throb like a second pulse. In any case, the strange magic was protective, and that was all that mattered to Shiro.
The dream was still fresh in his mind, the phantom touch of Lance’s lips on his own lingering. Shiro couldn’t help himself; he leaned down and gave Lance’s cheek a tiny, gentle lick. Lance’s face scrunched up, and Shiro did it again, this time over his short, scruffy hair. To his dismay, Lance’s eyes shot open in a panic and he leapt to his feet, face pink as he stammered out an apology.
But Shiro was no longer in the mood for apologies. He flopped onto the grass and leaves to roll around and bat at a daring yellow butterfly, staring up at the distant blue sky and puffy white clouds through the gaps in the canopy above. Lance watched, bewildered, but as Shiro rolled back onto his feet and let out a little mew and then a heavy sigh, he swore he saw some kind of understanding in the human’s beautiful eyes.
He needed no words to persuade Lance to sit upon his back as they hurried back to the house together, though with every step, dread built in Shiro’s chest. This was his home, but for the first time, he did not want to be there.
He wanted to carry Lance away, far away from here, and stay with him always in the lovely golden afternoon. He could do it, he knew. He could keep running, to a new forest, a new territory, and take Lance with him. He could thrall him into submission; make him just as sweet and pliant as he had been in the dream. He could turn him, right here, right now. He could take Lance for his own, and keep him with Keith, in Shiro’s own little pack.
But he didn’t. Because it was true – he could never hurt Lance. Not with words, nor fangs.
Their arrival at the house was much as Shiro had expected. The other vampires greeted them, and Hunk screamed, and Pidge raised their eyebrows, and Thace looked away guiltily, and Keith frowned in confusion. Shiro looked only at Hunk, and then padded upstairs. Lance and Keith’s joyful voices drifted up to him, and he found he could not continue to the bedroom, collapsing in the hallway in a dark, depressed heap of big cat.
He lifted his head to stare up at the photographs and paintings lining the hall, memories from another time, a different time. Keith looked so happy, but had he ever been as happy with Shiro as he was with Lance? Shiro covered his face with his paws, unable to look any longer.
He had heard of rejected sires, cast out of their own packs and considered both weaklings and failures. It wasn’t a stretch to imagine that was the path he’d set himself on. Maybe Keith would make a better sire than him, anyway.
But Shiro remembered what it was to be alone, and did not think he could survive it again.
“Hey.” He tensed as Keith sat down beside him, silent on his feet as always. He was stealthier than Shiro, when he wanted to be. A careful hand scratched just behind his ears, and Shiro could not help but purr, cracking his eyes open and lifting a paw to look warily at Keith.
“I know you said it was okay,” Keith whispered, “but it isn’t, is it?”
No, Shiro sighed, pushing his head into Keith’s palm. I don’t know. I miss you.
Keith’s face crumpled, and he bowed forward, burying his face in Shiro’s fur and wrapping his arms around Shiro’s neck. You know I wish he had chosen us both. I don’t understand why he didn’t...he isn’t cruel. But this choice seems cruel, to me.
He is smart, not cruel, Shiro muttered, setting a paw on Keith’s back, keeping him close. He does not know my history with humans, but I think he senses it. He knows I am dangerous.
Keith pulled back, stroking his face. “We are both dangerous.” He said it like a plea.
Oh, Keith. Shiro stood, stood there before his progeny in the body of a deadly beast, his eyes filled with unnamable sorrow. You have killed one. I have killed so many I cannot count them.
“You’re better, now,” Keith whispered. “You are not what they made you, Takashi.”
You are better for him, Shiro said, turning away. Perhaps he is better for you, too.
“No,” Keith hissed, and the harsh shove against his mind and magic was unexpected, sending Shiro into a stumble as he shifted, gasping when he fell onto his hands and knees. Keith caught him from behind, and Shiro’s breath shortened as Keith’s clothed body pressed against his bare one, breath hot on the nape of his neck.
“You were first,” Keith told him, leaning his head into the dip between Shiro’s shoulder blades. “You saved my life, again and again. You gave me a better life than I ever could have imagined. You showed me what love truly was. You show me that every day. I will never abandon you. Ever.”
“Maybe you should,” Shiro managed, lowering his head.
Teeth gritted, Keith spun him around, cornering him back against the wall, and Shiro let him. “Tell me to stop,” Keith said. “Tell me to let him go. It’s hurting you, I can feel it.”
Shiro shook his head. “Don’t stop,” he said. “I have hurt before. This is nothing. Besides, you are happy. He is happy. That is all I wanted, Keith.”
Keith searched his eyes, lower lip trembling. Shiro held firm. He would not let his weakness make the two of them suffer. They had suffered enough.
“I love you,” Keith whispered. “Selfless liar though you may be.”
Shiro kissed him until he tasted blood, and then some.