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new light filtered through the thin fabric pinned over the windows, shining visibility on the dust leisurely drifting through the room. a little boy of peculiar eyes trailed alongside his father, almost an exact comparison to a clingy housecat. the wood creaked and groaned with years of age as they pattered through the house, the crisp sweetness of morning in the air slowly brushing away tired spirits.
arriving in the kitchen, the father swiftly seated his son and began clearing away the table. the home was cluttered, piles of books and scraps lining the walls while the counters overflowed with miscellaneous items. keys, silverware, tools, a stack of overdue rented movies, all signs of comfort and permanence between their secluded family. the boy avidly watched his father skirt around the messes after successfully clearing a place.
he couldn’t help but marvel at his father, a man of broad shoulders and a square jaw, physical traits of strength and dominance, yet who always looked upon him with eyes softer than sheepskin. he was someone who ran into houses swallowed by towering flames for the sake of others, a man worthy of being called a hero, a man who put his son before himself and loved him quietly but boundlessly.
“keith?” the hero questioned softly. “are you ready?” the boy, keith, perked up with eagerness and nodded vigorously. the father turned from the fridge and presented a bare chocolate cake with pride. “i baked it myself, pal, so you have to put the candles on.”
keith was handed a bright box already peeled open, giant numbered candles ready for the taking. he held it close and shook, enjoying the rattle against plastic. “pop, do i get to use the lighter too?” he heard his dad murmur an affirmative and then shuffle away to grab it while he pulled the candles out of their packaging and uncoordinatedly place them in the cake.
---
“i have to say, this holiday is rather odd. does everybody celebrate it every year? doesn’t that get confusing? how do people not share birthdays if there’s so many of you yet so few days?”
hunk was tired. while he was sure she was more exasperated about human culture than he was to explain it, they’d been arguing, per-say, for almost ten minutes. “no, allura, people do share birthdays. but those people usually don’t know each other and don’t celebrate together.”
“yeah!” lance chimed in, “and people celebrate their birthdays privately. only, like, you and your friends and family do something. not the whole town or world or whatever.”
“so… birthdays aren’t a holiday then? i thought holidays were celebrated by everyone.”
“well, holiday’s aren’t necessarily always celebrated by everybody--”
“what? but lance said--”
“but no, birthdays aren’t holidays--”
“allura, i wasn’t lying, it’s just complicated--”
confused chatter, which alarmingly was beginning to grow louder, crowded keith’s ears. pidge wasn’t here to settle the questions and disagreements which erupted a few minutes after she stepped out and shiro was content to lean back and ignore them all, leaving keith to wearily stare at his wreck of friends. he still could barely believe that these ridiculous people were the teammates who fought by him with ragged breathes on countless battlefields.
how could they, after seeing such gruesome greed and misplaced dominance throughout the galaxy, find humor in silly cake designs (the cake sitting in front of keith was designed with a cat dressed in black paladin armor) and argue over the definition of holiday as careless as regular high schoolers? he had been bruised and battered at such a young age that he would feel naked without such wounds, but with the forced friendship voltron had shoved upon them, he was slowly discovering what it felt to be healed. the joy was wound up and coiled around his heart and muscles and simply everything in his body; his nerves were set on fire, in awe at the beauty he’s found in the aftermath of intergalactic violence and havoc.
is this what lance, before the war stole him away, felt every morning when he awoke to a family of noise and passion? or allura, back when altea was healthy and alive, her father supportive and kind every step she took? did hunk remember the warmth of homemade meals full of unconditional love when he cooked? and pidge, full of admiration for her brother and parents purer than fresh air, before they disappeared into the depths of space? shiro at the garrison, before things with adam turned sour, surrounded by endless praise from peers and the compassion of a partner?
he wonders what his father would say, seeing keith dripping with happiness and surrounded by friends. but that’s a pointless wonder, because keith can already picture that large stature behind him, gentle hands resting on his arms, face lit up with a grin of pride. he’d take in a shaky breath, whisper, “you did it, pal.” he knows, because it was his father’s greatest promise.
---
“pop! put your camera down, it’s embarrassing!” keith helplessly tried to suppress his smile while he waved his arms above the cake, attempting to grasp the video recorder from his father’s hands.
“careful, careful! you’ll burn yourself with those candles.” their dispute continued, keith’s attempts to steal away the camera fading as his father kept raising it out of reach. with a huff of annoyance, keith crossed his arms and turned his nose up pretentiously.
“i mean… i guess i could let you record. then you’ll always have proof of how awesome i am.” his father snorted but accepted keith’s reasoning by lowering the camera again and sitting adjacent to keith, who sat at the head of the table in a show of power. heat rose in keith’s face despite his previous statement but then seemingly settled on some internal conflict. “well, i’m blowing the candles out now.”
it took a few tries of violent cheek puffing and head gestures to extinguish all the candles, much to keith’s embarrassment. he leaned back into the chair and grinned at his father’s beam of encouragement. with assistance, keith cut the cake into thin slices with his special knife of sleek curves and mysterious purple. looking at it made keith feel sad, briefly, before remembering the candles. he looked down at his plate thoughtfully.
“is something wrong?”
there was a short pause. “say, pop, how many times do i have to wish for something until it happens?” his father’s eyebrows furrowed in concern and dipped his head.
“good question, champ. maybe it depends on the type of wish.” he raised his head towards keith, smiling gently. “some wishes require more time to be fulfilled.” keith leaned into the palm of his hand, elbow on table, and hummed absently.
“what if…” he trailed off with downcast eyes, huddling into himself, voice wavering. “i asked for mom to be here?” his shoulders dropped. “and maybe i had someone to play with. brothers. and a dog, a big one.” keith met his father’s gaze with wide eyes. “how long would it take?” his father laughed softly, sorrowfully, and reached across to hold keith’s hand. keith intertwined their fingers, feeling steady.
“that’s a tough one, bud. but i’m sure without a doubt--”
---
keith’s heart beat once, twice, loudly in his chest. his next breath shuttered as he felt a strange tightness in his ribcage, somehow melancholy in the middle of his own celebration. six voices exclaimed together, messy, with kind eyes and bright smiles. “happy birthday!” lance tacked on mullet and shiro gave two out-of-place thumbs up. the cake was split between them, yet, to no one’s surprise, lance mocked accusingly.
“rather unfair, pidge. taking the biggest slice? you’re the smallest person i know.” pidge attempted to glare lance into an early grave, but smugly moaned around the first bite when he didn’t fold under the pressure. keith was overflowing, the laughs and chatter of his team filling the gaps of years he spent lonely. he could almost hear the deep rumble of his father’s voice and the caring touch of his hands. he silently, gratefully, thanked his father for this promise.
“--that one day you’re gonna have that big family you wish for.” it took it’s time, as all things did. keith’s just glad he found his place.