Archive of Our Own

One hundred and seventy-three. 

That’s how many planets Voltron had freed since the Coalition was formed.

They all watched as the number blinked onto the holographic screen, Allura’s hands stretched over the projection as she moved the map around. Standing before the podium at the front of the observation deck, she was absolutely glowing, blue eyes bright with thrill. 

“The impact of Voltron on this side of the galaxy is incredible,” she praised, sweeping around to pass a proud look over her paladins. “Our work is far from over, but even one planet freed from the Galra’s reign is…” she breathed out and shook her head, “it’s an accomplishment. And to think we’ve liberated nearly two-hundred!”

“It’s not just Voltron, Princess,” Shiro reminded gently with a smile, “We could never have done this without your command.”

Allura beamed. “Thank you, Shiro. But as far as leaders go, you deserve to be recognised for the way you have lead our battles, as well,”

“She’s got a point,” Lance piped up, and the rest of the team nodded in agreement. 

“You’re an amazing head, Shiro,” Hunk said, throwing an energetic arm around Shiro’s broad shoulders. “Voltron wouldn’t be the same without you.”

Shiro smiled sheepishly at the praise, bowing under Hunk’s arm but making no move to push him off. Lance watched the interaction with his arms crossed over his chest, an amused glint in his eyes. 

“There is no Voltron without any of you,” Shiro insisted, only to be hushed by nearly every mouth in the room. 

“Nope, no, no, no, it’s Shiro-time,” Lance wagged his finger in Shiro’s face in mock warning. 

Shiro was notoriously terrible at receiving praise, and the opportunity to gang up on him to really tell him how much they all appreciated him - as their captain, their friend, as a part of their odd space family - was far and few between. 

“Yeah, man,” Keith snorted from beside Shiro, “learn how to take a compliment.” 

Shiro thought this was a little unfair coming from Keith of all people, but he said nothing, too distracted by the heat in his face to really formulate a comeback. 

“Guys, come on,” Shiro protested humbly, stepping out of Hunk’s embrace. “I refuse to take the credit for this,”

Lance hummed, placing a hand on his hip. “You’re not ‘getting the credit’,” he made air quotations, “this is us, you know, telling you that we’re all better with you here,”

Shiro was burning, and if anyone noticed him sliding towards the doors, they didn’t mention it. “I- thank you,” he said earnestly. “Really.” 

“No need for gratitude, Shiro,” Coran smiled. “You deserve it!” 

Before they could properly smother Shiro with praise, Allura ushered them into a short meeting about what Voltron’s plans were now that the Coalition was growing. They would keep moving from planet to planet to weaken the Empire, but the focus was starting to shift towards allowing the rest of their allies more autonomy in the entire process. Shiro listened keenly, as he always did, committing everything his team suggested to memory, though he couldn’t deny that he still felt a little warm from all the compliments. Once they had formulated a tentative plan, the meeting broke, and Shiro was the first one to politely duck out the door. 

The team stared after him, wearing mirrored expressions of amusement. 

“He really can’t take a compliment,” Hunk snorted, and shot Lance a look with raised eyebrows. “I thought you were working on that?”

“I am!” Lance huffed indignantly. “But he’s surprisingly stubborn.” 

“He just doesn’t like big public displays,” Keith explained, feeling a twinge of sympathy for the other man. “It’s not how he’s used to being treated,” 

“I say we get him used to it,” Pidge decided resolutely, making a fist with her hand before smacking it against her other palm with determination. 

“And how exactly do we do that?” Allura asked, cocking her head to the side. “Altean’s displayed their affection through physicality. Do humans have a similar custom?”

Hunk nodded. “Oh, we do hugs,” he said, “There’s always compliments, but you could also give them a kiss.” 

Allura blinked in surprise. “Is that not for… romantic partnerships, exclusively?” she asked. 

“Not exactly,” Hunk replied, “They definitely can be,” he shot Lance a pointed look, “but platonic kisses are totally a thing too.

“Interesting…” Allura trailed off. “I suppose we can… give him a kiss?” She stopped, looking confused. “Would it be on the lips?”

Lance jolted. “Nope! Nope!” he emphasized urgently. “No one is kissing Shiro on the lips.” 

“Unless you’re Lance.”

“Exactly.” 

“So… what? We give Shiro a kiss and tell him how great he is?” Keith asked awkwardly.

They all exchanged a glance. 

“Yeah-” 

“-I guess so-”

“-don’t get too frisky-”

“Alright then,” Pidge grinned slyly. “Operation: shower Shiro with affection, commence!”

i. Hunk

“So, here’s the thing,” Hunk started, clapping his hands and using them to gesture at the mess of ingredients in front of him. “Objectively, I know something in this pile has to work as a substitute for yeast, but there are a few problems: One, I’m not sure which one it is, and two, these ingredients are known to freaking explode if they’re mixed with the wrong thing.” 

Shiro stared at the ingredients blankly, processing what Hunk just said in his mind. “What do we do, then?” 

Hunk puffed a deep breath in before whooshing it all out. “We resort to trial and error. Something has to work eventually.” 

“Right,” Shiro said slowly. “And you needed me because…?” 

Not that he minded spending time with Hunk, but to ask his help with baking, of all things, was question worthy. Shiro didn’t exactly hide the fact that he was terrible in the kitchen. He couldn’t, really, after the marshmallow experiment incident. 

As if readinging Shiro’s train of thought, Hunk piped up, “Oh, don’t you worry. You’re not anywhere near the stove,” he said quickly, and Shiro breathed out a sigh of relief. Hunk shuddered, no doubt thinking of the way the flames spread across the kitchen when Shiro accidentally put an entire paper bag of space sugar on a hot stovetop. “Definitely not allowed… no, what you’re gonna do is help me figure out which ingredients can be incorporated together.” 

“Not saying I don’t want to help you,” Shiro said, lifting a bowl of pink powder to his noise. He saw Hunk jolt to grab it from him before going still from the corner of his eye. “Because I do, but wouldn’t Pidge be more helpful here, since they actually know how chemicals work?” He sniffed it hesitantly, and forced himself not to gag. Reminds me of Keith’s work out shoes, he thought with a wince as he set the bowl down quickly.  

Hunk pretended not to notice the way Shiro’s eyes were watering. “You’re the one with the cool robot arm. If things go wrong, at least we’ll be able to fix it up without an issue. Fleshy bodies, on the other hand, are much more difficult..,” He paused. “Plus, Pidge refused to help me.”

“Thanks, Hunk,” Shiro deadpanned, blinking rapidly and scrunching his nose to rid himself of the burning sensation. “Love to know I’m just a dummy model for you all,” 

Hunk threw a good natured arm around Shiro’s shoulders. “Oh, come on, it’s not going to be that bad!” he reassured, steering Shiro around the table and towards the counter with an array of impressive equipment. A scale set to round to four decimal places, something that resembled a burette… Shiro squinted. Was that a flamethrower? “I have the healing pod at the ready in case things get bad.”

 “All you have to do is pour the ingredients I ask for when I say to and read me the number.” 

Hunk deposited Shiro right in front of the scale. “Simple! Just… just do not touch the stove, please,” he said, keeping his eyes on Shiro to make sure his hands weren’t drifting. Slowly, he backed up towards the perpendicular counter, where a fancy system of pipes and incubators sat. 

Shiro barely held back a tired sigh, and spread his hands over the counter. “Alright, alright, I heard you,” he muttered, hanging his head low. He felt ashamedly like a rowdy toddler being asked to sit still. 

In retrospect, Shiro wasn’t sure what exactly he expected to happen when Hunk asked him for help with baking.

It was going fine, at first. Shiro made sure he only touched the ingredients Hunk told him to with his prosthetic, and added a little bit at a time. Hunk didn’t look too stressed to have him handling potentially explosive ingredients, and Shiro tried to use Hunk’s confidence in him to keep his movements smooth. He just wished he knew what exactly Hunk was doing, or how he was coming up with his numbers when all he had was a tiny little notepad next him. 

Shiro was a curious person. It was in his nature: it was what got him interested in space in the first place, what pushed him to explore it. He could remember sneaking up to the roof of his foster home, a heavy book on constellations in his hands, and the long nights he spent hunched over it, squinting at the sky, trying to connect the starry sea above him into something that made sense. 

So it wasn’t Shiro’s fault that he focused on that little notepad scribbled with Hunk’s notes more than his hands, okay? Totally not his fault. It was the curious little boy inside him. 

Shiro set down the bowl with the cursed pink stuff in it, and all of a sudden. Chaos. Everywhere. 

His thumb pressed down in the wrong spot, and the little measuring spoon he had meticulously been using flipped out of the bowl, flinging a concerning amount of pink powder into the container beside it. 

Oh, Shiro thought, staring at where the pink powder settled over the crystalline rocks in the container. Oh no. 

Almost immediately, the rocks started to smoke like hot coal. Shiro’s eyes bugged, and before he could come up with a better plan, he flapped his hands over the rocks, fanning the purple smoke away. 

So, like, you know how in real life if you fan hot coals and have something flammable close by, that thing is gonna catch on fire? 

Yeah, apparently space crystals do that too. Crazy, right? 

Turns out the powder itself was the flammable material. The entire container burst into neon purple flames as soon as Shiro created that first draft with his hands. He watched the accidental bonfire grow, guts clenching in distress. 

Takashi, his mind chided. 

Shut up, he snapped back and looked around wildly for something that could distinguish the flame. He cast a furtive look in Hunk’s direction to find him still miraculously turned away. 

Bringing his attention back to the matter in his hands, he weighed out his options. 

Throw something else in there and hope for the best. Or use his metal hand to snuff out the flame. 

He gazed at the hand in question speculatively. Raised it. Used his other hand to dump the rocks into it, and gave it a hard crunch. 

The good news? The flames stopped. 

The bad news? Shiro burned his human hand because, wow, metal things exposed to heat can get hot. Who woulda thought?

He couldn’t help but yelp out in pain, dropping the container with a clatter and jerking his metal hand reflexively. The rock shards flew out of his hands and towards the other counter. 

“Shiro?” Hunk turned, eyebrows raised in surprise, just in time to follow arc the crushed rocks took through the air with wide eyes (Shiro watching in horror, cradling his screaming hand, his side of the kitchen a mess) as it reached the vertex and began its descent down, down, down, - 

- straight into the little flask Hunk had been working with. 

Hunk jolted back to stand beside Shiro and clenched his eyes shut. They both braced themselves for the explosion. 

Annnnnd….

Silence. 

It never came. 

“Uh...” Hunk cracked an eye open hesitantly. 

Shiro’s heart was pounding as if he had just fought his way out of a tight corner as he shook out his hand. “Hunk! I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise my thumb-”

“-Dude.” 

The breathless edge to Hunk’s voice brought him down to a full stop. 

“Hunk?”

Hunk laughed and turned towards Shiro, squishing his cheeks between his large hands. Shiro blinked in confusion, keeping an eye on the flask, just in case of a surprise, when Hunk leaned down and smacked his lips against Shiro’s forehead. 

Shiro, honest to god, squeaked in surprise. 

Hunk was gone just as fast, rushing up to the counter to squat in front of the flask. “Dude!” he repeated gleefully. “You did it!” 

Shiro touched his forehead tenderly, shocked. “I-... I did?”

“Yeah, man, look!” Hunk ushered him closer without looking his way, and Shiro made his way over to lean down beside him. 

The rocks had settled at the bottom of the clear mixture and were fizzling slightly. Deep down, Shiro knew he knew what that meant, but his mind was doing a funny little limbo between the fact that he just been given a very nice peck on the forehead and focusing on his injured hand.

“This was a sugar-water solution,” Hunk explained excitedly, shooting up straight to unclasp the flask from the rest of the contraption. He swirled the liquid a few times before holding the flask up to the light. “Dry yeast reacts with the mixture to produce gas.” He grinned and watched as the liquid inside the flask became frothy. “Which this just did. Shiro, you just discovered space yeast.” 

“It was an accident!” 

“You mean a spontaneous discovery,” Hunk corrected, already turning towards his notepad. “You’re amazing, Shiro. Come on, let’s go get you patched up, and then you gotta tell me what exactly you did so I can start mass producing this stuff-”

ii. Pidge 

Pidge was… not happy. 

Shiro considered himself pretty good at picking up on the emotions of others, but Pidge’s mind worked in so many different ways at once it was difficult to pinpoint what exactly was setting them off. Usually, Shiro dealt with the mood swings as they popped up rather than try to find out why they were happening right away, which required him to think on the spot to come up with something that could cheer them up without being too obvious about it. 

Which was exactly why he was here, right now. 

“I can’t believe Hunk let you in the kitchen again,” Pidge snorted from atop of Shiro’s shoulders. “I thought he was smarter than that.”

Shiro sighed and readjusted his grip on Pidge’s legs to keep them steady. “I thought so too.”

“Well, at least you discovered space yeast,” they muttered, using his head as a supportive surface while they tinkered away at the gadget in their hands. 

“Very true. It only took a sacrificial hand to do it, too. ”

Something flicked the top of Shiro’s head, and he jolted. 

Pidge tensed at the sudden movement. “Coran gave you some of that miracle cream,” Pidge said, setting a light hand on his hair to balance themself. “You’re fine.”

“I know. Pidge, did you just flick me?”

“Yeah, old man,” Pidge said with another snort, and the hand left him. “That’s me reassuring you. Now take a step forward, I can’t reach the control panel.”

“Old man?” Knowing he couldn’t be seen properly from the angle Pidge sat at, Shiro pouted and did as he was told until he was only a step away from the wall. 

Pidge hummed distractedly. “‘s what you are…” 

Their dead tone made Shiro’s senses tingle.

He knew his team well enough to know what a response like that meant. Shiro bit the inside of his lip as he thought of what he could say to make the situation better. 

Pidge made something crackle with energy above him.

He settled for the easiest option at the moment: redirecting their thoughts someplace until he knew more. “What are you trying to do again?” he asked nonchalantly. 

“I’m rewiring the lighting to make it brighter down in the engine room,” Pidge replied immediately, and the sound of sparks buzzed once again. “The lighting down there isn’t too good, and I’m pretty sure Coran is losing his eyesight. Hopefully, this’ll make things easier to do down there.” 

Shiro smiled at the wall. “That’s nice of you to do,” 

“Yeah,” Pidge said. “I guess.” 

“While you’re here, might as well make the lights change colour, too,” Shiro only half-jokingly suggested. “You know, like a disco or something.”

He felt Pidge freeze. “Actually, that wouldn’t be a bad idea.” 

“Neon lights, right?” 

“I could wire this panel to the dashboard downstairs and upload a digital remote control,” they said thoughtfully. 

“You could rave down there.” 

Pidge snorted. “No one raves anymore, old man,” 

Shiro barely held back a groan. “Again? I’m not old.” 

Pidge ruffled his tuft of white hair in front of his eyes. “White hair. Old man.” They laughed slightly, and Shiro felt relief course through him. 

He played along, voice turning to faux strictness. “I’m your captain, Pidge. I demand respect.” 

“What happened to your team being family?” 

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He said, “Did you just quote me quoting your dad at me?” 

“Maybe. Hey, now that I think about it, my dad was your superior, right?” 

“Unbelievable,” Shiro muttered with a shake of his head, giving his shoulders a purposeful jostle. “The sass.” 

Pidge squawked and grabbed hold of his head with both hands, one of their fingers narrowly missing his left eye as they tried to regain their balance. “Shiro!” 

He grinned. “Yes?” He gave another shimmie. 

“I’m gonna fall!” 

Shiro laughed, only stopping Pidge wrapped their arms and legs around him. “That’s what I thought.” 

“You’re lucky you’re bigger than me. And stronger than me. And faster.” They stopped to contemplate that before moving on hurriedly. “But if you weren’t I would have fought you and won.” 

“You are smarter than me, though,” Shiro said easily. “You can easily outwit me in battle the way you are right now.” 

Pidge went suspiciously quiet at that. 

“Pidge?” 

“You really think I could beat you?”

The self-defeated tint to Pidge’s voice startled him. “Of course. Every fighter has a weakness, and if anyone could find and exploit it, it’d be you,” he explained earnestly, trying to swivel his neck so he could look up at Pidge, without much success. “You do that on the regular when you hack into the Galra’s systems and take them down from the inside.” 

“Huh,” Pidge murmured, drumming their fingers on Shiro’s scalp. They were silent for only a moment longer. “Can you move to the right? I need to get into the wires on the side.” 

Shiro did as he was told silently, squeezing Pidge’s ankles to steady them as he side-stepped. Pidge didn’t say anything else after that, filling the quiet with the occasional wire spark and the sound of tape being unravelled from the roll. 

“Alright, I’m done.” Pidge chirped, dropping their hands onto their thighs, roll of electrical tape hooked through their fingers. 

“Nice job,” Shiro praised, stepping back and squatting so Pidge could slide off his back. 

Pidge eased one leg off of Shiro’s shoulders to place it on the ground before unslinging the other. Just as Shiro was about to get up, he felt something warm press against the top of his head. 

Again? Shiro thought frantically as he blushed. 

Pidge pulled back and patted him on the head gently. “Thank you for helping me,” they said softly, and Shiro felt warm all over. “You’re the best,” they paused. “Even if you are an old man.”

Shiro couldn’t help but laugh at that, reaching up and behind him to ruffle Pidge’s hair affectionately, feeling more and more flustered by the second. “Glad to be of service.”

iii. Allura 

Allura watched with careful eyes as Shiro rounded the bridge to lean against the Black Paladin’s seat in front of her.

There were dark circles under his eyes, as if he hadn’t been getting a lot of sleep as of late, which was entirely possible due to the number of distress calls they had been receiving. 

It was just the two of them in the observation deck, the others already shuffled off to sleep after a long day. Allura still remembered the way Shiro leaned into Lance’s touch when he patted his shoulder before he left. Everything in his demeanor seemed to suggest he would like nothing else but go off with them. 

Still, like a dutiful soldier, like a good soldier, he had remained so the two of them could run through what happened on the field today. 

“The Galra are still expanding,” Shiro said, reaching his prosthetic up to rub the back of his neck tiredly. “A number of the distress calls we answered today were several lightyears out of the radius we initially assumed,”

Allura hummed in displeasure and absently swiped a finger over the control board to wipe away the nonexistent dust there. “That is not good news. We know the Galran army is large, but given the sheer number of fleets we’ve won against, the number should be dwindling enough to slow expansion. That it’s not is making me wonder how many soldiers they truly have at their disposal,”

Shiro nodded. “We also know that the Galra use sentry bots to replace foot soldiers,” He looked up to meet Allura’s eyes. “They could have increased the rate at which they activated those bots. If so, we could try to target one of their facilities to slow the process.” 

“It would give us enough time to free the outliers,” Allura said, mind scrambling to see how it all could work. She saw a similar struggle in Shiro’s face, his eyebrows pulled taut. 

She could keep him here until they worked out the wrinkles in their barely-there plan. He wouldn’t protest like the others might have done if they were there; he would oblige her request and put his all into the task. Do it effortlessly, too, like the leader he was. 

But he looked so tired. Allura had to remind herself over and over that humans weren’t built like Alteans were: they tired easily, some faster than others. Shiro held himself in such a way that sometimes Allura forgot he was human too. 

“You look tired, Shiro,” 

Shiro immediately straightened, drowsiness clearing from his eyes. “I’m fine,” 

Allura side stepped around the controls to walk towards him. “It’s been several long quintants. We can discuss what our next steps are tomorrow,” she suggested gently. 

“But we’re here right now-”

Allura shook her head and cut him off by placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You’re exhausted, Shiro,” she said. “A plan made with a weary mind is often not a good one. You need to rest.”

Ever the deflector, Shiro said, “What about you?”

Allura quirked a corner of her mouth. “I’ll rest as well. The past couple of quintants have been hard on myself as well.”

There was a moment of silence as Shiro considered the pros and cons of turning in early. 

“Shiro,” Allura stressed in amusement, “Sleep. That’s an order.”

Shiro cracked a smile at that and finally nodded. “Alright, Princess. Tomorrow it is.” 

“Good,” Allura hummed, bending forward to plant a soft kiss right on Shiro’s forehead. “Go take care of yourself.”

He startled predictably, and Allura pulled back to find his face flushed with surprise. “Princess, I-” he stammered.

Allura faltered, suddenly self-conscious. “I was told humans communicated care through gestures like this,” she explained quickly. “Was that incorrect?”

“No, I-” Allura had never seen him this speechless. “No, it is. Sorry, I just didn’t expect that from you. Not that I minded it!” Shiro amended quickly.

Allura frowned curiously at that. “Well, I do care for your well-being,” 

“I know-” Shiro tripped over his words, growing more flustered by the second. “I- never mind,” he stood up suddenly and Allura took a few steps back in surprise, her hand rejoining her side. “Thank you, Princess,” 

The others were right, Allura mused, her hand coming up to hide her giggle as Shiro sped towards the doors, Shiro does not receive affection well. 

iv. Coran

Shiro poked his head into the engine room Coran and Pidge had been tinkering away in for the past couple of days. “Coran, you asked to see me?” 

Coran slid out from under the controls smoothly, a pair of ridiculously large goggles covering his eyes. “Number One! Yes, I did,” he leapt to his feet, which was the only way Shiro could describe the movement because Coran went from laying on his back to standing on his feet in front of him in the time it took for Shiro to blink. “It’s Grogory Day! I’ve already celebrated the day with the other Paladins. You’re the only one left!”

Shiro warmed at that. “Thank you for including me in your celebration, Coran. Happy Grogory Day,” 

“Much obliged!” Coran chirped, clasping his hands behind his back. “But that’s not how you wish  someone. See, on Altea, we used to give each other compliments to celebrate,”

Shiro blinked in surprise. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t know. In that case…” he smiled wide, “you’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. Thank you for keeping the castle running in excellent condition, Coran. I don’t know how we would have managed without you here,” 

Coran’s chest puffed, just a little. “Why, thank you, Shiro. I appreciate that a lot. My turn now,” He then cleared his throat and stood a little taller. “Shiro, there is no one else I could imagine that could do a better job leading Voltron than you. King Alfor was my closest friend back in our time, which means I know with certainty that he would be immensely proud of the team you have put together,”

Shiro froze.

Coran continued softly, shoulders rounding slightly. “Thank you for keeping the legacy he created through Voltron alive. Altea thanks you greatly for it,” he reached for Shiro’s hand, and bent at the waist to pepper a kiss just above Shiro’s knuckles, one arm tucked behind him like a prince.  

All Shiro could do was stare with glassy eyes and a slack mouth, feeling all at once overwhelmed by the words Coran was speaking and undeserving of them. Without meaning to, he felt his throat constrict painfully. “Coran,” he said, voice awfully thick. 

For the first time, he had absolutely nothing to say. It wasn’t like the normal jangle his thoughts got into when he was praised or complimented, which was a result of too many potential responses. 

No, this was silence in his mind. He couldn’t even begin to find the words that would thank Coran in a meaningful way. 

So he did the first thing that came to mind. He pulled Coran into a tight hug. 

Shiro was nearing twenty-five now and had grown out of seeking reassurance from his elders, but when Coran hugged him back he almost felt like a little boy again, in the arms of his grandparents who whispered how proud of him they were. 

v. Keith 

Shiro pulled the Black Lion out of range as another ion ray charged towards him, all but slamming into his seat as they shot upwards in a nearly vertical escape. 

The sentry bot factory Pidge had located for them sat in smolders nestled in at the very bottom of a canyon, long tendrils of smoke obstructing Shiro’s line of sight as Black took him up, up, up. 

Their mission was going as planned at first until the bay doors to the facility opened and dozens of fighter jets poured out, shooting their ion rays before the rest of the team had even caught on. 

They had a simple objective that was made infinitely harder by the assault of Galra jets: demolish the sentry assembly line at the very heart of the factory. But with some quick thinking on Hunk’s part, he and Yellow had clawed through the cliffs on either side of the canyon to send chunks of rock raining down. They collided with the factory, the sound of ripping metal cutting through the air and making Shiro’s hair stand on edge. 

The easy part was over. Now, the more difficult, figuring out how to shake off the fighter jets that just seemed to keep coming.

He heard Keith grunt through the comms, low and angry. “Shiro, they’re locking us in!” 

The Black Lion levelled off and twisted, seeking out her pride amongst the Galra fighter jets that swarmed them. 

Keith was right: he and Pidge were forced to fight from the ground, a cloud of fighter jets pressing over them to block their path to the mouth of the canyon. 

The Galra were targeting Voltron’s fastest and more lithe lions, Shiro realised grimly. Their builds were an advantage in the constricted space of the canyon. 

Shiro assessed the situation: the castleship was above them, unable to fire in fear of closing them all in; the Blue Lion could attack long range, but they were so close together it would be difficult to get a clear shot. Yellow was large enough that the terrain worked against her, limiting her range of motion. The Black Lion herself was more sturdily built and she could put on speed if he asked her to, but he would have to be careful weaving through the battle. 

Shiro clenched his jaw. Not good at all. He took a steadying breath through his nose, huffing it out sharply. 

“I’m on my way,” Shiro said levelly, eyes seeking out Hunk and Lance amongst the chaos to see how they were holding up - playing cat and mouse with a handful of jets, but otherwise okay - before pushing the controls on the dashboard all the way forward. 

Black zipped through the field with her jawblade activated, and Shiro could feel the Galra steel shredding under the blade through his connection with her, but he was going so fast he didn’t even catch the cloud of flames the jets erupted into as he passed by. 

His stomach swooped in time with Black’s movements, the weightlessness that came with flying combining with her sheer speed to take his breath away. There was more than one close call with the canyon walls, and it was taking all of Shiro’s ability to keep Black’s size from working against them as well. 

Lance’s voice is breathless and tight over the comms, “Shiro, if you can get Keith and Pidge out of the canyon I can-” He yelped suddenly, and Shiro had to resist the urge to turn around and make sure he was okay. The sound of Blue’s tail laser firing went off, and suddenly Lance was back on the line. “Ha, take that, losers! Anyways, Shiro, I was saying if you get them out and make it to the mouth of this canyon before the Galra do, I can shoot down the rest of the jets. You’re going to need to be quick, though,”

Shiro almost smiled at the smug tone in Lance’s voice, and slowly the clutter in Shiro’s mind started to clear away. “I’m grabbing them now. Lance, get into position!” 

“I’m lowering the castleship to give you all an easy exit but there’s not much I can do for you all from up here,” Allura said regretfully. “Please be careful!”

Shiro was hovering just above the jets that were keeping Keith and Pidge on the ground, and with a barely restrained grunt, he pushed against both the controls and his bond with Black, urging them forward with even more strength and velocity to deliver a clean blow. 

The Black Lion responded to his urgency effortlessly, and completely sliced a row of fighters in half as if she was a hot knife slicing through butter. Red and Green had to move deftly to avoid getting crushed by the debris, but they shot into the air as soon as they had the space to do so. 

The speed Black poured out ended up working against them in the end, despite Shiro’s care. The thing about heavy objects moving at incredible speeds is that they need more time to slow down. More distance, more space, to slow down. Space, which Shiro did not have. 

“Shiro, watch out!” Hunk cried, voice raising a few octaves. 

Shiro was doing his best, arms straining to keep the control levers pulled back, but it didn’t make much of a difference: the cliff wall was getting closer and closer to him, and he wasn’t slowing down fast enough. 

He braced for impact. 

The collision rattled every bone in his body and nearly sent him flying out of the pilot's seat. He braced his feet against the control board, but he still slid forward out of his seat, his gut connecting with the edge of the board hard enough to knock the breath right out of him. The sound that left his mouth - heavy with pain - was dredged out of him no matter how hard he tried to suppress it. Black’s conscience crackled, sending tingles all the way down his arms. She was struggling to stay online, her body dipping and lurching as she tried to keep afloat. 

“Shiro!” 

Lance’s voice. Laced with worry. 

“Fine-” Shiro gasped, vision swaying as his abdomen seized with sharpness. “I’m fine. Lance, take them out!” 

Lance growled in frustration. “Hunk-” 

“I’m already on it!”

The words had only just been spoken before Shiro caught a massive shadow looming to his right. Yellow’s tail swished at Black’s side as she settled under her belly, and Shiro felt the line between Yellow and Black connect in time with their contact, filling his senses with their wordless conversation. Yellow, prodding with worry, and Black responding with a song that sounded like winds whistling through leafless trees. 

Yellow kicked on her thrusters just as the Black Lion flickered off, becoming limp over Yellow’s back. 

“Everyone else, get behind me!” 

Shiro slumped back in his seat, arms finally going limp and sliding off Black’s console. As Hunk lifted them up - slowly and with much effort -, Shiro’s vision stabilized enough to catch sight of the other three lions at the mouth of the canyon. Lance, in the front with Blue’s tail glowing and ready to fire, with Keith and Pidge at his sides. 

The Red Lion swooped to help Hunk, speeding up their ascent. The minute Red’s metal head touched Black, the connection into Keith’s lion opened up for Shiro. 

Shiro had known Keith for years now, more deeply than anyone else on the team, but feeling even a glimpse of what Keith experienced in full threatened to make his heart stop every time. 

“Keith, I’m fine-”

“Shut up, Shiro,” Keith ground out, and his worry pierced right through the Black Paladin. “Just… be quiet. Take it easy. We got it from here,”

There were multiple layers to Keith’s worries and anxieties, and not even Shiro had gotten to see them all. But he did know that there was one particular layer that was created in his year long absence, and it reared its head now. 

He was about to offer another round of reassurances when a beam of light shot straight by them, close enough that it lit up the Black Lion’s cockpit in blue light as it passed. 

There was another, and another, and then Shiro’s sluggish brain finally connected the pieces. Those blue beams were Lance, picking off their opposition one by one. 

“Nice job, Lance!” Hunk called out. “You got all three of them!” 

“There’s five more, but they’re catching up fast,” Lance breathed. “You guys are really close, but I’m gonna need you all to speed it up just a bit,”

Shiro didn’t have a chance to catch the end of the battle. He remembered there being bright lights and the triumphant cries of his teammates, and his cockpit suddenly filling with light as Black came back online. But the journey back to the castle was a blur. Black’s wispy nudges against his mind, soft like a summer breeze, was the only thing he felt.

He must have made it back to the hangar, because he couldn’t feel that familiar weightlessness anymore.

Shiro forced a breath in, and shook his head to clear it. His entire body protested at the movement, the world once again dissolving like a heated horizon. Hunching over the control board, he tugged off his helmet and forced air in and out of his lungs, breathing through the pain, through the haziness. 

When the world stopped spinning he got to his feet and all but stumbled out of the Black Lion, braced heavily against her metal walls as he went to meet the others. Black’s jaw opened to reveal his team, still sweaty from the battle, helmets tucked under their arms, but animatedly recalling the events. The conversations shuttered as soon as they saw Shiro, practically limping towards them. 

Pidge’s expression went from sunny excitement to scrunched with concern. “Shiro!”  

Keith got to him first, slipping under Shiro’s arm and propping him up effortlessly. “Shiro?” he asked worriedly, eyebrows pulled down low as he guided Shiro down. 

Shiro tried for a smile, but it came out as a wince. Keith’s expression grew exponentially more worried. “Just a little shaken up,” Shiro said. “I’ll be okay,”

“Like hell,” Keith shook his head angrily. “You were going so fast I’m surprised the Black Lion isn’t a crumpled metal ball right now. We’re getting you into a pod.” Hunk nodded in agreement, eyebrows pinched together and his hands gripped onto his helmet. 

Shiro was about to reassure them that he was fine, really, he just needed the night off to recuperate, when his knees buckled underneath him, nearly dragging both he and Keith to the ground. Keith grunted in surprise, scrambling to keep him upright. 

“Woah!” Lance hurried to take Shiro’s other side, slipping under his arm to place a stabilizing hand on Shiro’s chest. “Shiro, Keith’s right. You need to get into a pod,” 

No, it’s okay, Shiro tried to say again, only it came out as, “Nurn, ish okayr,”

He tried to stand up straight, only to pitch forward. 

“Okay, that’s enough,” Lance breathed out through his nose, a sign that told Shiro he was trying to keep himself calm. “Allura!” 

“Nooooo,” Shiro moaned, burying his head into the crook of Lance’s neck. 

Lance snorted, but it was forced. “Whine all you want. We’re getting you in that pod.” 

Shiro was losing consciousness, which meant he was losing this argument. He heard Allura’s voice as she ran in, and Lance responded, but Shiro was lost and only caught warbled words here and there.

All too suddenly, Lance’s arms retracted to be replaced with a lighter - stronger - hold as Allura manhandled him for the second time since they’d met. She carried him out of the hangars like he weighed nothing, which he probably did to her. It was humbling. A little frustrating, if he were being honest. 

But, if anyone could handle the full burden of his weight, it would be Allura and her Altean strength. 

He made it as far as the door before he let himself go, darkness swarming in like a dam finally being broken. 

-

Being in a healing pod was an odd experience. 

Shiro was aware, sort of. He knew where he was, but his mind was floating in that space in between waking and sleep. 

There was a hiss, and all of a sudden his cool, shadowed surroundings were replaced by the familiar blue glow of the castle. He came to suddenly, jolting awake just as his foot connected with the ground as he stumbled out. 

There was a flash of red, and he was being held up again, hands gripping onto his arms as if they were afraid of where he would go if they let go. 

“You’re awake!” Keith breathed in relief. 

Shiro rubbed at his temples with a groan, blinking rapidly. “What happened?” 

“You broke bones, Shiro,” a voice snorted from behind Keith. Shiro looked around him to see Pidge getting to their feet a little ways away, brushing dust off their shorts. “Three of them, to be more specific.”

Shiro’s mouth went dry as he held himself up on his own feet. “Three?”

Pidge listed them off on their fingers. “Left clavicle, one of the bones in your ring finger, and a rib.” 

Ah, right. The pain in his abdomen. 

He glanced around the room at the others, who were all wearing the same expression. Hunk, closest to the door, clenched and unclenched his fist anxiously. Lance hovered on the other side of the pod, as if he was stuck between wanting to rush over to Shiro or give him and Keith space.  They met eyes, Lance’s silent question almost clear as day. 

Space, Shiro responded silently, hoping his eyes would do the talking. Keith was still a bundle of nerves that needed to be smoothed out, be reassured, first. 

Lance nodded slightly and took a subtle step back, but threw on his notorious, jokester grin. “Three bones all at once,” he teased, burying his hands into his pockets. “I think that’s the new record,” 

Just like that, the tense atmosphere eased up. 

“Definitely the record. The rest of us have only gotten fractures,” Hunk snorted, taking a few steps closer into the center of the room. 

Shiro’s hand ghosted over his ribs absently. “Sorry for making you all worry,”

Keith groaned and burst into movement to pull Shiro into a quick hug, kissing the edge of his jaw before burrowing his head into Shiro’s shoulder without another thought. “Shut up, Shiro.” 

Shiro blinked, arms lifting in surprise. How did he keep ending up in this position?

It took him a moment to realise he probably should hug back. He closed around the other man, and gave him a few gentle pats. “I’m okay, Keith,” he said softly. 

The hug was over as quick as it came. Silently, Keith stepped back and surveyed Shiro with barely concealed distress. “Don’t do that again. Ever.”

“I’ll try not to,” 

“Shiro.” 

“Okay, okay!” Shiro held up his hands. “I won’t do that again,” Keith seemed somewhat satisfied by his answer, because he took a step back. Seeing his opportunity, Shiro tried for a lighthearted smile. “I’m not liking the way the tables are turning,”

Keith huffed out an exasperated chuckle. “It’s just a taste of your own medicine.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

“It means you’re always giving me shit about reckless flying, so you might as well feel what it’s like to be on the receiving end and-”

vi. Lance

Lance had been still ever since Shiro had been discharged from the pod, which was unusual because Lance was a whirlwind, a hurricane, a tornado of light and sound on most days. Shiro knew the infectious nature of his personality, and was caught in it’s currents all too often, which meant he noticed when the waves disappeared suddenly. 

They were heading back to Shiro’s room together because Lance refused to leave his side and wanted to fall asleep in Shiro’s bed, and well, who could say no to that? Not Shiro. No, never Shiro. 

Lance still looked reserved when they stepped into his room. He lowered Shiro onto the bed before kicking off his shoes and crawling over to his spot beside the wall. Once he was comfortable, he opened his arms and Shiro all but toppled over on top of him. 

“Argh,” Lance groaned, curling in on Shiro. “Why is your head so heavy?” 

Shiro gave him a dazed smile. “It’s full of thoughts,”

Lance hummed and ran his fingers through Shiro’s hair in that way he loved. Shiro unconsciously leaned into the touch. “What’re you thinking of that’s got your head so full?”

“You, mostly,” Shiro said, hearing how unabashed his voice sounded and not caring whatsoever. 

Lance pinked and stopped threading his fingers through his hair so he could flick Shiro on the nose. “Gross,” he mumbled, but a soft smile played over his lips as he picked up his movements again.

Shiro scrunched his nose, but didn’t comment on it. “You and Hunk were amazing out there today.” 

“Heh, thanks, Captain,” Lance said, before looking down at Shiro with a frown. “You really did give us a scare though,”

“I’m sorry,” Shiro repeated with a sigh. “I was just trying to get to them in time,” 

“I know,” Lance said, and craned his neck to place a kiss on Shiro’s forehead. “It just took us all by surprise. You hardly ever get hurt,”

Shiro’s skin tingled when Lance pulled back. “This was a one off occurrence,” he promised. 

“I’m holding you to that,” Lance said, and then he raised his eyebrows. “You’re taking this a lot better than I remember,”

“What do you mean?” 

To answer Lance leaned down to kiss his forehead again. 

“Oh,” He blinked. “I… I don’t know. The others have been strangely affectionate lately,” 

Lance’s face went suspiciously neutral. “Oh?” 

Shiro lifted himself up onto his elbow and furrowed his eyebrows. “Yeah. I don’t know,” he said again, “I guess I’ve just… gotten used to it?”

“That’s good, isn’t it?”

He thought about it for a moment. “It is,”

Now, Lance grinned, bright like the sun. “About time you let us take care of you,” 

Shiro shifted so he was laying beside Lance rather than on top of him. “I appreciate it,” he said softly, pulling Lance closer. “I didn’t think I would this much, but I do.”

Lance nestled easily against his chest and pressed another kiss on the corner of his jaw. “You deserve all that, and more,” he murmured. 

Shiro warmed, his heart doing somersaults in his chest. “And you call me gross,” Shiro laughed. 

He felt Lance grin against his neck. “Quiet. It’s Shiro-loving time.” He scooted up until they were eye to eye. “Let me love you,” 

Shiro let Lance tip his chin up with a single finger. He was too distracted by the way Lance’s lip caught between his teeth to give him a reply. 

Lance took advantage of this and leaned forward, breath fanning over Shiro teasingly before pressing his lips far too gently - and much too briefly - against Shiro’s. 

“Lance,” Shiro chided. 

There was a snort, and a teasing “Needy,” whispered before Lance’s mouth was on him again, kissing him properly. 

In between kisses, Shiro mumbled, “And?” 

No response, but when Lance swung a leg over Shiro and pulled himself upright so he was straddling Shiro’s hips, Shiro felt like he knew the answer. 

His hands moved without thought to settle on Lance’s hips, his fingers slipping under the hem of Lance’s shirt and brushing over his soft skin. 

Lance shivered, and Shiro felt accomplishment bloom inside him. 

Lance tipped forward so Shiro’s head was nestled between his forearms and nudged their noses against each other. He ghosted a kiss over the corner of Shiro’s mouth. “Let me love you?” he asked again, voice filled with quiet desire. 

As if Lance had to ask. 

Shiro’s arms rose so his hands could cup both of Lance’s cheeks as he lifted his head to bring their mouths together again. He kissed him, slow and sweet, until Lance relaxed, flush against his chest. 

When they broke apart, Lance smiled, cheeks already working into a blush. “I’ll take that as a yes?” 

Shiro absently brushed Lance’s bangs out of his eyes. “Yes,” Shiro agreed, easing back against the pillows. 

Lance didn’t wait for anything else. He took his time with his touch, hot and urgent and sweet all at once, that hurricane of passion whipping through Shiro like it hadn’t disappeared briefly at all.  

Lance’s mouth danced skillfully over all of Shiro’s sensitive spots, filling him up with whispered “I love you”’s and endless variations of “you look so good right now”’s until Shiro was helpless against his words and the squeeze of Lance’s smooth thighs around him.

“You’re amazing,” Lance breathed, hands everywhere, over Shiro’s chest, his face, in his hair. 

He let Lance’s loving roll over him, washed clean in it, swam in it, drowned in it like a man thrown overboard. And for once, Shiro stayed right where he was.