Chapter Text
When Shiro parks the van into the visitor parking lot at Altea Academy. He can’t help but stare into the driving mirror and laugh at himself.
If someone has told the 19-Year-old Shiro that in 5 years from now he’d be trading in his Harley for a “Dad Van” he’d say you were crazy. Yet there he was at a ripe age of 24- almost 25, sitting in his van a father of four teenagers.
It’s unusual for him to be seen at the school. All four of his kids are exceptional in their own accords, and rarely do they require Shiro’s assistance when it comes to their academics. Although he does recall several required visits due to some disciplinary actions with his oldest.
Keith.
Both his oldest and first foster son. He was probably the most difficult to help adjust to his new lifestyle. Shiro was still 20, not even legal to drink yet and Keith was a 14-year-old kid, whose father, a well-respected man and Shiro’s mentor had just passed. They had been a hard mix, but Keith’s Father trusted him with his son and somehow, they both managed.
Now, Keith is 18. A Senior at Altea Academy and instead of looking for a fight, he focused his time and energy into his Art. He was an up-and-coming local artist in the community, and with the right people looking at him, it was also a chance to get a full ride to a local art school.
Shiro wouldn’t be lying if he said he wasn’t extremely proud of the kid, but it wasn’t exactly the reason he was at the school.
Shiro is greeted by the front office, he’s asked to sign in and get a visitor pass. They point him towards the Nurses Office, right around the corner. Shiro isn’t sure what to expect. He’s been called to pick up his son who would be waiting for him in the Nurse's office, but in the light of the unexpected call he never asked which son and most importantly why.
When Shiro spots Lance laying in the first cot, eyes closed and cheeks red he knows he shouldn’t feel this surprised. But he also feels a tad bit guilty that his expression is nothing short of a sad smile.
“Mr. Shirogane, I’m glad it didn’t take you long to get here, I do apologize if this is any inconvenience.” The Nurse greets.
“Shiro, it’s just Shiro, and I’m on a sabbatical, we don’t live all that far from the school either.” He explains.
The Nurse is small and sweet. She finds Lance’s bag and hands it to Shiro, who takes it gratefully.
“Lance mentioned that he lives close. He insisted that he could walk home but protocols have us calling, and it would worry me less if he had a ride.”
Shiro nods in agreement.
“Thank you, I appreciate it. How is he?” Shiro asked. The truth was, he was a lot more concerned than he might have led on.
Lance.
His most recent foster kid that he had custody over. Lance was 17 and an all-star Soccer player, even if his heart wasn’t in it. Prior to his flight to Arizona 3 months ago, he was surfing the beaches in California while his parents ran a shop in Venice. Unfortunately, some expired paperwork didn’t go unnoticed by customs, and both his parents were faced with deportation.
His siblings, all old enough to live on their own.
would have stayed to care for Lance who wasn’t a legal adult in the States, but CPS had mentioned that none of them applied to be in the system, and even if they did, they couldn’t guarantee that they would get custody right away.
Shiro was fully aware of the situation when CPS gave him a call, and though he wasn’t sure about pulling the boy out of the State of California, they had assured him that he had a sister stationed in the Garrison, where he was currently employed, and that it would be better having him closer to a family member who had the right paperwork in place.
Upon his first arrival 3 months ago, Lance had been a god sent. Apparently, He and Hunk (his shyest son) shared the same social worker. They talked a little and well to put it best, the rest was history.
Lance has been the definition of a good boy upon his arrival, he helped with the chores without having to be asked, and always got his work done right after school. He had been a bit of a jokester; his personality could be considered overbearing when you are a father to four teenagers with clashing personalities.
Overall, Lance was an idealist, and when weeks turned into months, and the possibility that he wouldn’t be back with his family anytime soon came into play, well Lance had a hard time adjusting to that.
“Lance fainted in the middle of his biology test. I checked his temp when he arrived, a low-grade fever, but he did mention a cough that he developed this morning, and I’d even go as far as guessing he has a sore throat.
Shiro swallowed hard.
He knew that something was up with Lance, and he had ignored any signs that he was getting sick.
“He’s sleeping now, and he begged me not to call, I think it’s sweet that he doesn’t want to worry you so, don’t be too hard on yourself for that.” The Nurse winks.
“Right. Thanks… for everything really, and the advice, I think I needed to hear that.”
The nurse just smiles and leads him to the first cot.
The first thing Shiro notices is Lance’s shallow breathing. It makes his heart drop, and he wishes he didn’t have to wake him up.
He raises his prosthetic arm and pushes back strands of hair off the boy's sweaty face.
“Hey Lance, it’s time to wake up, kid.”
Eyes jolt open. Lance has always been a light sleeper. Alert eyes wander through the nurse’s office until they lock eyes.
“Shiro? What are you...you didn’t have to come, I-I could’ve walked.” Lance tries.
Shiro isn’t going to have it.
“Are you ready to go home? I have your bag.”
Shiro lifts the backpack to show.
Lance is quiet, he stifles a cough, and clears his throat, but chooses not to say anything. Instead, he raises from the cot, grabs his bag and pulls it over one shoulder loosely.
Shiro wants to argue that he could have held it for him, but he can take a hint:
Lance doesn’t feel like talking.
Shiro waves at the Nurse and leads the way back to the van.
Lance sits in the front seat, leaning heavily against the window.
The drive is mostly quiet. Lance doesn’t say anything even though he wants to.
“You know Lance, I’m not mad or anything. Everyone gets sick. You’re entitled to a sick day occasionally.”
A sour look fills Lance’s face, but it doesn’t last.
“Sorry.”
When they reach a red light, Shiro takes his eyes off the road to look at Lance. The boy is exhausted, and it has him worried.
“Don’t apologize, but you know if you had told me this morning you hadn’t been feeling well, we wouldn’t have to have this conversation.”
A whine escapes Lance’s lips as he slumps deeper into his seat.
“I’m not picking on you Lance, I just want you to feel better, you know that right?”
Lance just nods.
“Okay kid, you head up to your room, while I see if we have any cold medicine.” Shiro says as he pulls into the driveway.
Lance makes a bee line for the couch instead.
“This isn’t exactly your bed Lance.” Shiro chuckles disapprovingly.
“Mama lets me fall asleep with the TV on when I’m sick.” Lance mumbles face down on the couch, head buried in the bend of his elbow.
Shiro almost doesn’t want to admit that he heard him, but the guilt of a child longing for his family grips his heart, and he finds himself throwing a blanket over the boy and turning the TV to some cartoons.
He couldn’t possibly tell him to go to his room after something like that.
It is one of the hardest things he admits about being a foster parent. He is many things, but he is not a replacement for the memories a child shares with their mother or father.
Shiro imagines that Lance is already asleep again, so he hates that he’s going to have to wake him up.
Pulling out liquid NyQuil, from the medicine cabinet he pours some in a measured cup.
“Lance, can you wake up for me? I need you to take this.”
Lance’s eyes open but they quickly shut.
“Come on Lance, you can sleep after.”
Pulling himself into a sitting position, Shiro takes the seat next to him, handing him the small plastic cup of liquid medicine. A cup of water in his other hand ready for a quick exchange if Lance doesn’t like the taste.
Lance holds the cup in his hand staring longingly at it. Debating internally if he should drink it or not.
Shiro patiently waits for him. It reminds him that this is the first time Lance has been ill since living with him, and first times always come with a little territory.
Keith rarely fell ill, but in the few times he did. Shiro discovered that his eldest son had quite a bite to his tongue. Things were said and feelings hurt, but never intentional. It was the first sign that something was bothering Keith, when his emotions went a little haywire.
His other two kids were quite the opposite. Hunk, who was so in-tune with his feelings, never did get shy about admitting to an illness, and Pidge, his youngest and the only female in the group, always got a bit sleepy when she wasn’t feeling well. Shiro made it a priority to catch these things early, so being patient with Lance was just a part of the job.
Lance threw the medicine back like a shot of tequila. Fast and quick, with a ‘yuck’ expression at the end.
He ignored the glass of water. He just wanted to lay back down but Shiro is taking up that space. Instead, he rested his head on Shiro’s shoulder.
“Do you think….” Lance starts but is stopped by a wet cough.
It takes everything in Shiro not to cringe, because that’s the sound of something worse than a cold settling in.
“Do you think I’ll ever get to see my Familia?”
-And there it was, the cause of Lance's stress and all his insecurities. The worse part, Shiro didn’t have the answer, there was no way for him to ease him with an answer without worrying him more or lying.
Shiro inches his head to look at the boy sinking heavily into his shoulder, eyes closed. Gently he holds Lance’s weight so that he might be able to get up and let the boy spread out across the living room couch. He’s already asleep, and Shiro is almost relieved that he doesn’t have to answer if it didn’t feel like his temperature has risen a little.