Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The most important things Keith learned in life was that there were good and there were bad foster families. Some seemed nice at first, all smiles and happy introductions until the door closed and Keith was hidden from prying eyes. Some were mean off the bat, unenthusiastically lugging him back to their place only for the bonus paycheck from the government.

Of course, there were the rare few that were happy and genuinely enjoyed having Keith as a foster kid. But those hurt Keith the worst, because in the end they had all apologized profusely once it was Keith’s time to leave. After the first few nice families, Keith had lost hope of them adopting him because he realized that there was a family before he got there, and weaving him into those complicated family ties was more trouble than it was worth.

The first foster house he had been sent to, close to two days after the death of his Father, was an overcrowded one. His young mind hadn’t fully processed the death of his only remaining family member and what it entailed, so the drive there had felt like a haze he was trapped in but couldn’t escape.

The car smelled sterile and the woman who had insisted he ride in the back seat instead of the passenger kept on adjusting the air vents from buring hot to chilling cold for the full duration of the four hour drive. She hadn’t said a word. Keith wouldn’t have responded if she talked to him anyways, he was too busy watching the rolling hills.

He didn’t know when he would be able to come back home.

Maybe he would never make it back again.

Somehow, he was too numb to feel sad about that. He didn’t know where he was going, no one had bothered to explain much to him, but he didn’t necessarily care either. Without his dad, he was just some kid and there was nothing he could do about it.

Keith was jolted out of his daze when the driver's door slammed shut. He peered out the window to discover that the woman had pulled into the driveway of a one-story medium sized house. (she was slim, wearing a pencil skirt and dress shirt with her hair wrapped in a tight bun. She had seemed nice enough at first until she ignored his questions. Keith gave up on communicating with her if she was going to treat him like gum on the bottom of her fancy leather shoes.)

The house didn’t look like anything special or familiar, but she walked up to it anyway, pasting on a fake smile and wrapping on the door. Soon enough, a woman had exited, and with a chill, Keith could tell that the two were one in the same, (though the new one looked a bit older. A bit cruler.) After a muted conversation between the two, the social worker turned and started walking in his direction before yanking open his door and leaning into his space.

“This is the Woman you will be staying with,” she spoke to him, for the first time in a long while, “be respectful and on your best behavior, lest you be relocated. Do you understand?”

Keith nodded mutley, and after a few seconds of studying him, the woman nodded and pulled away. When she smiled, Keith could see pink lipstick on her teeth. “Wonderful, retrieve your bag, you will be staying the night and I will check in tomorrow to make sure everything is in order.”

Keith shifted on the uncomfortable leather seat, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and stepping out into the driveway. He didn’t have much valuables on him, which made it easier to get out of the social worker's way as she promptly slid into the driver's seat, slammed the door shut, and pulled out of the gravel driveway.

Keith hesitated a moment, eyeing the woman at the door, then observing the surrounding area. There was no neighborhood, (Keith had never lived in one of those anyway) and the lawn was in shambles, uncut and with weeds crawling up the house. The house itself looked rough, its faded yellow paint job chipping and roof shingles misplaced.

“Well, come on now, the air conditioning isn’t gonna run all day,” the woman waved him over, and Keith was quick to enter the house.

It didn’t look all that great from the inside either.

When Keith entered the house's living area, twelve heads all whipped over to eye him curiously. Twelve kids, just like him. Thirteen kids, one Woman, and a three bedroom house.

The social worker hadn’t come by the next day.

Keith was forced to snap out of his grieving in order to watch out for himself. He had learned over the next few months how to hide any valuables for himself lest the older, meaner kids got to them. He had learned how to go without food for long periods of time and sleep with his back to the wall and one eye open in case one of the six kids he shared a room with decided they needed more space.

He had learned that being the youngest in a Foster home came with no quirks.

Many houses were similar in that way, overcrowded and hostile, and Keith had grown familiar with them throughout his childhood. The first one he had come across where the parents were genuinely nice was the fourth one he had been put in.

He remembered, even at the age of eighteen, the genuine happiness when their eyes landed on Keith. Like the other houses, the social worker quickly ushered him to the doorstep and left, but unlike the others the atmosphere of the suburban house was warm, the people living in it even warmer.

“Welcome home,” the woman had smiled, the crows feet of her eyes crinkling. The man, tall but not intimidating like the other men Keith met, helped Keith shed the jacket from his back and even placed it on a jacket hook for him. “Good to have ya here.”

They had a son, about two years older than Keith, and he was like no other kid Keith had met. He was nice, playful, and even shared his toys. Keith got three meals a day, education at a nearby school in the same class as his brother, and even a place on the living room couch during family time, right next to Coco, the family dog.

He learned in that home how fast a false reality could come crashing down.

“Keith, honey,” Sandra, his foster mom, had called, tone tinged with worry, “we need to have a talk.”

A talk. Talks never went well in Keith’s young life. ‘A talk’ had been when the social worker broke the news to Keith, letting him curl up on himself and cry. He hadn’t done much talking that day. ‘A talk’ had been him receiving a black eye or two for taking more food than what was necessary.

Keith walked into the living room with squared shoulders, his young mind taking note of the sympathetic gazes of his family and the red rimmed ones of his brother.

“Keith,” the Father’s voice was strained, as if he was pained to speak. “As you know, your time in this home is almost up.”

It was about that time. A few months before bouncing to another one. Yet, a spark of hope flared in Keith’s chest, and like a beacon, he was drawn to it. He felt close to the family here, they loved him.

“We really enjoy you living here with us,” Sandra continued with a watery smile.

Maybe… Just maybe?

Maybe they were happy Keith could stay.

Maybe he could have a real family, a permanent one?

“But as you know, works relocating us to another state,” the Father continued, “across the United states. To cut to the chase we were wondering if…”

If…

Keith saw images. Images of Uhaul trucks packing away boxes. Images of the four of them and Coco driving to a new home. Images of a future with happiness and a full family.

We were wondering if you would like to come with us?

We were wondering if we can adopt you?

“...We were wondering if you can have your bag packed by tonight. The social worker should drop by for you soon.”

Keith’s heart had been shattered, and he hadn’t bothered getting his hopes up after that.

The next home took him back to cold, harsh reality. The months with Sandra and her family had simply been a vacation away from everything, and now, it was much worse than it had ever been. It was the first foster home that dished out beatings enough to put him in the hospital for a ‘bicycle incident.’ Keith had never learned how to ride a bike.

The man was creepy and made shivers roll down Keith’s spine when he placed a hand at the base of Keith’s back. Sometimes it would slip down further and there was nothing Keith could do about it.

Keith had learned how to stitch himself up and hide away in long sleeves and jeans even during the summer. He had learned how to cover marked and imperfect skin with concealer and he had learned how to check out of his own body for however long it took for it all to just stop. He had learned how to pull himself up, shaking and crying and bleeding, and scavenge for bandages and food in a barren pantry.

The first alive adult that actually cared about Keith had waltzed right into his middle school class and announced that the garrison was looking for new cadets to test their flight simulator. The man's name, as Keith had come to learn once he demolished the flight simulator along with two other classmates, was Shiro.

He had quickly gained an interest in Keith. Not the bad kind of attention that he often got from teachers for being the black sheep of the class or from the owners of the other foster houses he had been in. No, Shiro had been genuinely interested in him and his talent.

It had taken a long while for Keith to open up to him, and he had only done so after stealing the man's car out of fear of being rejected (just like the other families.) Shiro hadn’t been mad, hell, he hadn’t even chewed him out. He simply smiled and shrugged, claiming that Keith must have had a good reason, and that he would solve all of this and Keith could still have his shot at the Garrison if he really wanted it.

And Keith had never wanted anything so bad in his life before. He wanted to get into the program, half to fly and half to have an excuse to stay close to Shiro. He had never felt the feeling of fiery passion before, so once he did, he fought like hell to secure his place.

That day, staring out into the sunset with Shiro, he had randomly let it blurt out. How his Father had died and how his mom wasn’t around. He hadn’t said more than that, letting the man jump to his own conclusions, but Shiro hadn’t seemed surprised.

Keith knew he must have been wondering where he called home and who lived in said home with him. He felt guilty, because Shiro had told him about Adam (Keith had met him multiple times, and he was just as nice as Shiro) and he had told him about his grandma and grandpa who raised him, yet, in return Keith had said nothing.

“That's okay,” Shiro had said, once the sun had lowered below the horizon and the stars were clear against the inky sky, like paint splatters on a canvas. “I’m here, if you ever need me.” He had pulled Keith into a side hug, one large arm wrapped around his shoulders, and Keith had never felt so warm in his life.

After he had been accepted into the Garrison, life had gone up. Keith spent a lot of time hanging around Shiro and Adam. The two had taken him out to a celebration dinner after the news of his scores had been finalized, and at least three times a week Adam would tutor him on subjects while Shiro taught him different flight techniques and patterns. He would even stay during weekends with them and they let him apartment when they were away on trips (because they knew he didn’t have anything to go home to.)

Keith wasn’t sure if they knew he was a foster kid or if they believed he lived with an absent mother, but it didn’t matter much to him as long as he could stick around them.

Of course, his first year into the garrison was when he was landed into one of the worst Foster houses he had ever lived in. There weren’t many kids, only two other ones besides him, and they were both significantly younger. Keith knew they didn’t hang around much either, always sleeping over at friends house, but when Keith was home he was always with them, brushing their hair or scrounging up food for them. They were some of the closest foster siblings he had ever had, and oftentimes he climbed into bed with them when they couldn’t sleep or had nightmares.

He wasn’t around much but it was inevitable if he lived at the house legally, he would have to show up when he didn’t have anywhere else to go. The Garrison was on break for the winter holidays, and when Keith discovered the twins were back at home for it he decided to stay with them. A full house for the first time in a while.

The interior of the house was mostly wood, the curtains drawn and the walls a dull gray color. It was nicer than a lot of places he had been, but it hadn’t been home. Home had been racing with Shiro, home had been studying with Adam.

Keith turned in for the holiday, backpack slung over his shoulder. It was around ten o’clock by the time he snuck in silently. The lights were off. He strained his ears to listen for any movement, but relaxed when all was silent. He dropped his bag and slowly made his way up the stairs, avoiding the third and fifth steps because they always creaked and creaked and creaked-

“Not even gonna say hi?” A low, slurred voice had asked from the guest room's doorway once Keith had finally settled in. “Brat, I didn’t even know you were staying, no warning?”

Like a horror film, Keith slowly turned his head to face the man. He wasn’t all that impressive with a smoker's lung and a definite liver failure in his future, but he was imposing.

Keith had backed up as the man entered his room until the back of his knees hit the bed and he couldn’t move any further. He bit back a snappy response, instead biting his lip and keeping his head low. “No, I'm sorry.”

Keith was thankful he hadn’t gone into the next room over where the twins were to say hi, because once the blows started hitting harder and harder it was impossible to keep quiet. It always started like this, slapping him around for fun until his face was black and blue and he had fallen to the floor. At that point, the man always complained about his fist hurting, and started to use his steel toed boots instead.

The smarter foster families in the past had used phone books and kicked him where he could cover with clothes, but this one had known well that there was nowhere Keith could go. No one he would tell.

He didn’t really care as long as Keith was hurt and docile by the end of the day.

A few snaps of broken ribs, that luckily hadn’t penetrated his lungs.

The angry throbbing of his broken nose.

Keith had learned to mentally check out. To think about the blue skies and piloting through the clouds like an obstacle course with Shiro at his side. Shiro. Keith wondered how he was doing. Hopefully a lot better than he was.

Keith could imagine him and Adam sitting by a fireplace in their apartment in their knitted sweaters and holiday spirits. He could imagine moth and luna, their cats, nuzzling into their laps as they drank hot cocoa.

He could imagine himself, sitting on the couch with them. If only he could tell them. It only they could take him in and-

At the image Keith felt a sob bubble past his lips, and suddenly the beating subsided enough for Keith to open a bruised eye wearily. The man watched him with insane fascination, a grin curled at his lips to reveal his black teeth. “You’ve never cried before. Is this a holiday present? For me?”

And suddenly it got a whole lot worse.

Keith was sent stumbling out of the room and into the hallway. He didn’t even have the energy to stand so the man dragged his body for him until, with sickening dread, Keith didn't know what was about to happen until it was too late.

“Let’s see how long it takes ya to pass out now that I got ya crying, huh?”

Keith was kicked down the stairs, each wooden edge hitting a new part of his body until he reached the bottom and curled into a protective ball. He didn’t have time to recollect himself until his stomach lurched. His ribs cried out in agony as he threw up onto the floor.

Oh no.

Oh God please make it stop-

“Now you go and stain my floor with your tears and vomit?” The man asked, somehow appearing right next to Keith, crouching down. Isn’t this what he had wanted? “You’re gonna have to clean it all up, so get to it.”

A large hand lifted him by his hair and promptly shoved his face into his own vomit, smearing it around until Keith’s lungs burned to breathe. The smell was like a sucker punch and Keith had the urge to vomit again, but instead, he lifted his head and spit blood out onto the man's old, worn boots in a sudden bout of rebellion.

He wasn’t about to break Keith, dammit.

The shoe reeled back and caught him in the temple and suddenly he was back on the ground, face up as thick, meaty hands wrapped around his smaller neck and squeezed. Keith looked into dark eyes before even darker dots danced around his vision and pressure mounted in his ears and his face turned a purple shade and-

He wasn’t letting him up for air.

He couldn’t breathe.

He was going to die.

Just when Keith was about to succumb to the darkness, the foster Father let go, rolling him back over into his own mess.

“Lick it up, it better be gone by the time I'm back.” Footsteps left and about ten minutes after the sound of the main door being opened and closed, Keith finally managed to lift himself from the cold floor. Maybe his foster Father was going out for his drink, or perhaps cleaning supplies and a body bag. He would never know.

Stubbornly, he limped his way to the bathroom, leaning heavily against the wall until he reached his destination. Ignoring his reflection, he washed the blood and vomit from his face until he was sure all that stained him was his new bruises. It took only ten minutes for his legs to give out on him completely and for him to realize that he was, in fact, bleeding from the back of his head.

He didn’t realize he had a concussion, probably from falling down the stairs. He wouldn’t fall asleep. He could do this, he may not have been beaten quite this bad before, but he was no stranger to pain.

“Nina, Nandia?” He called, voice hoarse and painful sounding, “you can come… come out n-now!”

From his place, back against the wall next to the front door, Keith watched as the two girls emerged, eyes welling up with tears. Keith was thankful that they hadn’t been treated like him. He had taken all of his Fathers attention every chance he got and they were blissfully unharmed.

“Keith!” They called, stumbling down the bloodied stairs and curling into his hold. He held them as they cried and wiped his own tears away against the crowns of their heads.

He had to stay strong for them. They were so young and he was in the Garrison now. He had to hold himself together. Keith’s inner mantra came to a halt when he shifted, the movement feeling like a wildfire had been set across his whole body. He grunted in pain and his head spun until he set it back against the wall, closing his eyes.

“Keith!” Nina wailed, pulling him from sleep, “please,” she sobbed into his bloodied shirt. Keith felt bad for making them cry.

He blacked out, for maybe a minute at most, but when he woke back up again he was laid out on the wooden floor. Distantly, he could hear Nina crying and Nandia’s sniffles, because Nandia didn’t talk and Nina was very vocal.

Keith brought up a sprained hand (his whole body felt broken, splintered and fractured) to feel at his head. The bleeding had only gotten worse. With a startling moment of clarity, Keith realized that these injuries were not ones he could bandage himself. These injuries he couldn’t cover and hide, even with a week to recover.

They were severe, and if left untreated, he would die.

“Nina,” he rasped, “My… phone?” His voice didn’t come out properly and it was as if the man had squeezed the very voice box from his throat. Fortunately, the young girl seemed to understand, because she crawled on all fours to riffle through Keith’s bag.

Keith couldn’t move his fingers, so the girl opened the phone for him. “Call… the only… contact,” he instructed, and terrified, Nina did exactly what he requested. Shiro was the only contact in his phone along with Adams, Shiro was on speed dial, but either one of the contacts would be fine with Keith.

As long as someone could get to him before he-

Nina put the phone on speaker, placing the device on the floor next to his head, and while the line rang Keith shot the twins a look. “Go hide,” he hissed, “Don’t know when he- when he’ll be… back. Don’t want you to get- get in trouble.”

“You’re hurt,” Nina sobbed, Nandia taking his hand. “We c-can’t l-leave.”

“N-Nina,” Keith choked out, and he felt more warm blood falling from his head, “Be st-strong. He’ll hurt… hurt you if he knows you h-helped.”

“But-”

“Now.”

Nandia stood from the ground, sniffling as she grabbed her twins hand and hurried her up the stairs to hide in the place Keith had built into the wall for them when the Father was gone.

The phone rang.

And rang

And rang

With rising panic, Keith tried to catch his breath, having just regained it from being strangled. What if no one answered? What if they were too busy for him? What if they were ignoring him because he was annoying them on their holiday. He was a hindrance-

“Hello?” A voice asked by the sixth ring. It was Shiro, his tone light and not as tense as it usually was. Keith hated to ruin their week off. “Keith?” He asked again, “are you there? Is everything okay? You usually don’t call.”

Keith never called, only texted. He didn’t want them to catch wind of the yelling or the beatings.

“Keith?” Shiro sounded on edge, “did you accidentally call? Is this a sleep texting situation?”

Keith wheezed and all sound on the other end of the line stopped. For one, horrible moment, Keith thought that Shiro had hung up, but it was soon that he realized he was listening.

“Keith, is that you?”

Keith let out a wet cough, unsure if what had left his mouth was remains of vomit, or blood. “Sh’ro?” he rasped. It was getting harder and harder to focus by the second.

“Keith, Keith!” Hey bud, what's wrong, talk to me and tell me about the situation.”

“I ne’ help,” Keith managed, probably the first time he had admitted it in his life.

“Okay,” Shiro said, tone dangerously calm, “are you hurt badly?”

“...Yeah.”

“Okay, hang tight buddy, Adam’s calling an ambulance. He had your location pinged, so don’t worry about it, I just need you to stay on the line with me, got it?”

Staying with Shiro, as it turned out, was a lot harder than he had anticipated. Keith could hear the commotion in the background. He could hear Adam talking over the other phone. He could hear Shiro starting up his vehicle and slamming the door shut. He could hear his voice asking questions, but Keith was falling into a lull.

The popcorn ceiling above him faded until it looked fuzzy, like clouds.

“Keith?”

“Hm?”

“Stay awake.”

“Mkay,” he grunted, even as his tongue felt heavy in his mouth and his eyes were slipping shut.

“Let’s play a game,” Shiro decided, and distantly, Keith thought that it was not time for games, but he indulged the adult anyways. He would do anything if Shiro had asked him to. “Keith, stay with me. What's one thing you see right now?”

“Mhh, ceiling.”

“Good, good, and what color are the walls?”

“G…Gray. Boring.”

Shiro chuckled, “I'm sure it’s real boring. I’m turning into the neighborhood right now, focus on that boring gray for me.”

Keith was slipping, he could feel it. Despite that, he looked on at the ceiling with fiery intention, planning on listening to Shiro’s instruction. Soon enough, the sound of an engine jolted him from his sleep and Keith realized that Shiro had been trying to talk to him.

Just as Keith opened his cracked lips to say something back, the line went dead and the front door opened. For a moment Keith prayed because the man had come back to choke the life out of him for real this time-

But instead there was a worried shout of his name and large, comforting hands were stabilizing his head. Shiro’s face swam in his vision but everything was muffled around him. Shiro’s mouth moved, but no sound was leaving it.

Distantly, he realized that Adam was there too, prodding along his body for invisible injuries, but Keith had grown so numb that he didn’t cry out when he reached his ribs. He finally allowed himself to slip into unconsciousness, safe in Shiro’s arms.

This was the best home he had been in a while.

Chapter Text

Shiro had found himself drawn to the feisty middle schooler known as Keith the first day he met him. Sure, there had been many other promising cadets with a more than stellar record and attendance compared to Keith. There were many safer options for Shiro to hinge his mentoring on, but Shiro had a habit of picking up strays that hissed and scratched until he managed to tame them and in the end, Keith hadn’t been much different.

Sure, his attitude had been an issue, but once Shiro had started to show him respect and a guiding hand (not annoyance and pestering like most other adults in the boys life) Keith had quickly grown to love Shiro and Adam like a family.

Shiro would never regret taking Keith under his wing.

He had found himself asking on many occasions if Keith was okay. Because Keith reminded Shiro so much of himself when he was younger that it hurt sometimes (true, he may be the Garrison's golden boy now, but he hadn’t always been.)

Concern festered in his gut everytime Keith had come to study or for lessons with a new bruise or injury, but he would always wave the two of them off with an excuse of ‘got into another fight.’ Shiro could only wonder just who he was getting into these fights with because he hadn’t heard anything about it from the Garrison unless Keith was involved in some underground fighting ring.

Oh god what if he was involved in an underground fighting ring-

“I’m sure that’s not the case,” Adam had reassured after Keith left, “the boys smarter than we give him credit for, he wouldn’t waste his scholarship away by getting involved in underground activities.”

That had managed to calm Shiro down. Adam always had a way with words that made everything else around him seem less urgent. In the end, though, maybe the alternative of the fighting ring was the better reality.

Shiro and Adam's suspicion had reached a tipping point when once, in the middle of the night during a hurricane and flash flood warning, there had been three very light knocks at their apartment's door.

Shiro hadn’t been fully asleep, but not yet awake either. Assuming it was the tree branches of the overgrown shrubbery outside the apartment complex that Adam always complained about, Shiro just rolled over to find the cooler side of his pillow. From next to him, Adam didn’t stirr.

Thunder clashed and lightning flashed, rain pelting the windows with torrential force and a moment later the scratching- no, knocking- had become more insistent. Someone was knocking on their door and it wasn’t the damn tree branch.

Now fully awake, Shiro stumbled out of the king sized bed, reaching for the closet to slip a shirt and sweatpants on, not bothering to see if they were his own clothes or Adams. When Adam didn’t wake (he had always been the heavy sleeper of the two) Shiro silently grabbed the bat they kept in the back of their closet and exited the master bedroom.

Their apartment wasn’t small, in fact, it was quite spacious with two bedrooms, a living quarters and a kitchen. Shiro held the bat steady in his hands as his socked feet slid across the wooden tile. The lightning through the blinds provided enough light for him to make his way to the door.

The knocking became more insistent, less hesitant than before.

Someone could have an emergency, but it was also two in the morning and Shiro wasn’t taking any chances. Upon looking into the peephole, Shiro found nothing out of the ordinary, but when his eyes traveled further down, he spotted a tuft of black hair.

Very familiar black hair, even if it had been plastered down from the rain.

“Shit!” Shiro hissed, throwing the bat to the side and quickly unlocking the three locks on the door before swinging it open. As if all of his weight had been resting on the door, Keith fell forward and Shiro was quick to steady him, pulling him into the warmth of the apartment and closing the door before the wind could whip it back open.

“Keith? Hey, Keith?” Shiro asked, keeping a hand on Keith’s elbow as he reached blindly for the lightswitch. Once the room was flooded with a warm light, Shiro was able to take in the full scope of the situation.

Keith wasn’t unconscious, leaning against the wall with Shiro’s help, but he didn’t look far from it. His head was tilted downwards, blocking Shiro’s view of his face, and he wasn’t dressed for the storm at all, water dripping like rivers from hair and tank top and onto the floor.

Keith was shivering violently, and Shiro could hear his teeth clattering together.

“Keith?” Shiro tried again, “why are you out in a storm like that and- how did you get here?”

“Walked” Keith answered shortly.

Shiro had to scoff in amazement. He had walked? All the way from his current foster home that Shiro knew was across town? Shiro didn’t know why he was so surprised. He decided to go with the action first questions later approach and herded Keith further into the apartment despite him digging his heels into the floor. He was barefoot.

“I’ll g-get your f-floor wet.”

Shiro snorted, “I don’t care about my floors, Keith, I care about you.”

That was when Keith looked up with shocked eyes, as if he had never heard such a thing in his life. That was when Shiro got a good look at the bruising on the right side of his face. It didn’t look like a fist, it looked like Keith had been thrown and his face had slammed to the ground or a wall.

Shiro winced in sympathy and reached out, ignoring the way Keith flinched away, before prodding at his cheekbone. The bruise spread across his whole cheek, blooming a dangerous dark purple color mixed with yellow at the edge. At Keith’s uncomfortable shuffling he pulled away, “Sorry, just making sure you didn’t break anything.”

“I’m fine,” was Keith’s automatic response, and Shiro resisted the urge to roll his eyes before straightening back up.

“Sure. Stay here, I'll go grab a change of clothes for you and we’ll… talk about this. Okay?”

Keith nodded silently, his shoulders wracking with shivers as Shiro quickly disappeared back to his room. He grabbed the smallest pair of sweatpants and shirt he could find, but they would still be humongous on Keith. As an afterthought, he grabbed a pair of fuzzy socks (ones Adam had gotten him last christmas as a gag gift after they promised not to get each other anything. They had little lions on them, a reference from when they went on a safari trip and Shiro had nearly been integrated into a lion pack on their tour.)

“Adam,” Shiro shook the man's shoulder lightly, and when he only received a garbled groan as a response he shook harder, “babe, Keith’s here.”

Adam slowly blinked open his eyes, “Keith,” he yawned, sitting up and reaching to turn on the bedside lamp, “what’s he doin’ here?”

“I don’t know, but he’s banged up and probably gonna get hypothermia here in a bit if we don’t do anything soon.”

That got Adam awake, his face growing serious as he slid on his glasses. “Okay, I’ll get the medical kit and make something warm for him to drink.”

Shiro nodded, planting a kiss on the man's cheek, “thanks babe.”

“Mhm.”

Shiro returned to find Keith back at the doorway, trying to keep his dripping mess contained to just one puddle. Shiro made sure to make his footsteps loud so Keith knew he was approaching before placing a hand on his shoulder. It was cold under his hands and a lot thinner than Shiro had realized, his collar bone jutting out. He hadn’t really seen Keith in anything other than his Garrison uniform and red jacket, so a tank top was a bit of a shock.

“There’s clothes and towels in the bathroom. Take a warm shower and dry off,” he instructed, gently ushering Keith to the room.

“Thanks,” Keith managed, turning his back to Shiro before closing the door, giving the man enough time to spot the bruise on his shoulder and nape of his neck, like a hand mark. Shiro felt sick.

Once the shower had been turned on Adam emerged from the room, dressed and with their medical kit in tow. He set it down on the table and got to work on tea for the three of them while Shiro put the bat back in its place securely. They worked in silence and Shiro ran his fingers through his hair.

Keith was going to give him gray hairs before he even turned thirty.

“Don’t worry too much about him, he’s a resilient kid, just like you were.” Adam set down a steaming mug in front of him and Shiro shot him a thankful smile.

“Yeah, but he’s still just a kid. He won’t even tell us how he’s been getting hurt and…” Shiro trailed off when Keith exited the restroom, hair toweled dry. He at least looked less miserable than before, but he was still shivering. Shiro noticed the lack of steam swirling out of the room and bit back another sigh.

As expected, the clothes were far too big.

“Here,” Adam was fast to act, not hesitating in dumping a blanket onto Keith’s shoulders and nudging him to sit on one of the three chairs at their table. Shiro grabbed the mug and placed it into Keith’s cold hands and the boy just held it up to his chest for a few minutes before finally taking a sip.

“Let’s try this again,” Shiro sat across from Keith, pulling out the medical kit, “care to tell us why you were out there in a hurricane all by yourself?”

Keith clenched his teeth before resolutely looking at the wall behind Shiro’s head.

It looks like they wouldn’t be getting any answers anytime soon.

“Didn’t want to stay the night there?” Adam asked. The garrison was currently on break for three days, meaning that no one could stay in the dorms while maintenance worked on the academy and new flight simulations.

“Yeah,” Keith agreed, and left it at that, not elaborating any further. Not that Shiro had expected him to.

Shiro finished digging through the medical kit before producing the ointment he had been looking for. As gentle as possible, he dipped his fingers into the solution and reached out for Keith’s face once again.

“You don’t have to-”

“I’m going to,” Shiro’s tone left no room for argument as he spread the cool ointment against the large bruise. Shiro tried to ignore how hot and irritated the skin felt under his fingers. What had the boy done to deserve this?

“Here’s the plan,” Shiro pulled away once the ointment was all spread, using his teeth to open a large sized bandage and placing it gently over the area. “You stay the night here for the weekend, and we take you back to the Garrison when it’s time for all of us to return. But you have to tell us what happened.”

Keith looked to his left, a telltale sign that he was formulating some lie in the back of his head. “It was the other Foster kids,” he admitted, “that house- it’s overcrowded. They needed room so they kicked me out. I had nowhere else to go.”

It was a half-truth, Shiro could sense. Sure, he had probably been kicked out, but that handprint on the back of his neck was much larger than a kids.

Shiro and Adam let him stay anyway, but didn’t take any action yet. Because Shiro knew Keith and he knew that prodding would only make the kid run the other direction, right when he had gained the courage to come to them for help for the first time.

It still didn’t make it any easier the second or third time.

The more the couple got to learn about Keith, the more the puzzle pieces started to slide into place. Keith was a rebellious teenager, always looking for a fight and challenging himself with things he had never even attempted before, like he was trying not to let things as simple as facts pin him down. (Though Shiro and Adam saw much further than any of the Garrisons staff and student population. Instead of a boy raring to fight at any moment, they knew it was his way of coping. He had never had the time to mourn over his Fathers death and his absent Mother. The fighting was a defense to him, a shitty coping mechanism.)

Keith had started to stay with them more and more after that night, any chance he got Adam invited him to study over the weekends and on weekdays off and holidays Shiro took him out piloting.

The guest bedroom had turned to Keith’s unofficial one. They even went to the store to buy a new bedspread, a comfortable one without telling Keith because the kid would have insisted that they shouldn't waste their money on him.

Because despite being the fiery kid he was, Keith was also quiet and very socially-awkward by nature. Shiro would probably have better luck conversing with a stick than having a normal one with Keith, but that made it all the more endearing to tease him.

Keith was also polite. He sat up straight, elbows off of the table at all times as if it had been instilled into him. He only ate after Shiro and Adam took their first bites, and when he did, he ate the whole meal, never wasting a single bite as if he didn’t know when his next meal would be. He thanked and apologized, he never wanted to be a hindrance (which meant that he hid many, many things from them.)

It was like Keith had been forced to learn these mannerisms and habits.

Like they had been beaten into him.

It hurt Shiro’s heart.

About two months later, Shiro had found another stray wandering the side of the street on his way back from the grocery store. It was yet another stormy night, because apparently they were going through a weather crisis this year, and the poor thing was soaked to the bone, sitting in an alley to try to escape the biting winds. It was getting colder, winter approaching fast and with a vengeance.

The dog kinda reminded Shiro of Keith the one night he had appeared at his apartment, soaked and closed off. Hell, the dog even had dark fur the same coal shade as Keith’s hair.

So of course, like any sane human being, Shiro had entered the store once more to buy dog equipment and promptly took the dog home. He had to sneak the young pup into the apartment since there was a strict no pets allowed policy, but Shiro and Adam were thinking of moving soon anyway. If they got evicted, well, that wouldn’t matter in the long run.

Adam had given him a disapproving look as Shiro entered, carrying the dog like a baby to the bathroom to get her cleaned up. She was still growing, Shiro could tell, coming up to about his knees, but her personality shone through once Shiro had gained her trust. (After a dog treat.) She was shy but always gave him kisses on the cheek, and when she looked up at him with those gold eyes, Shiro couldn’t resist.

“Takashi,” Adam warned, pinching the bridge of his nose, “are you serious about her?”

“Well of course I am,” Shiro gestured to her, “I even got her a collar.”

“You are going to be the death of me.”

(And just to give Adam even more of a heart attack, Shiro adopted twin cats a month later, Moth and luna.)

Shiro had forgotten to mention the acquisition of a new dog the next time Keith came over to the apartment for a family dinner of sorts. The last dinner in their apartment before moving into a new one (which just so happened to be closer to the new home Keith had just moved into.)

So when Keith had entered the doorway and was immediately met with Lucky the chocolate lab, he immediately let out a sound (a totally not scared one, Keith would later argue) and shove himself behind Shiro.

“Lucky, down,” Shiro snapped, and because she was a good girl, she immediately sat, her tail wagging around on the floor like a windshield wiper. It was easy to teach her commands. Shiro then tilted his head backwards to see Keith poking out from behind his arm, eyeing the dog with suspicion.

It was then that Shiro realized that Keith probably hadn’t had good run-ins with dogs in his life. He probably hasn't even gotten to hang around too many in his life. “Why do you have a dog,” Keith asked, tone blank.

“I found her on the side of the street. She reminded me of you so I took her home and now Lucky belongs to us.”

Keith raised an eyebrow but Shiro wasn’t fooled. He was still shaking. “You get a dog and name her Lucky?”

“Why, are you embarrassed about being scared of a dog named Lucky?”

Keith immediately turned red and backed away, back into the dog's view. Lucky was young and still energetic, so she eagerly bounced on him and started to lick his face. Shiro reached for her collar, ready to pull her off of the boy so he didn’t start to panic, but Keith had simply watched the dog slobber all over him with a strange expression, hands held out like he wanted to touch her but didn’t know if he could.

“You’re allowed to pet her,” Shiro supplied, “she doesn't bite.”

And so Keith did, like the dog on top of him was glass, but Shiro saw the almost child-like curiosity in his eyes as he chuckled a little and patted Lucky.

It took a while for Keith to grow completely used to the animal, but when he did, Lucky always gravitated towards him as if they were inseparable. Eventually Adam and Shiro were called away on a weekend long meeting, and they had absolutely no one to watch their three animals and Shiro was worried about leaving Keith alone at his new home, so to kill two birds with one stone, he asked the teenager to apartment sit while they were away.

What was the worst that could happen?

When Adam and Shiro returned, the apartment was in shambles, stuffing laying around on the floor. At first Shiro’s instincts had kicked in and he panicked, looking for signs of struggle thinking that Keith had been kidnapped, but Adam shut that thought process up real quick.

“Takashi,” he nodded towards the living room, voice full of mirth, “look at this.”

Keith had dozed off on the couch, his study papers strewn out along the floor like he had stayed up all night working on a project. He was on his back and Lucky was wedged between his legs, her large head resting on Keith’s stomach that rose up and down in a steady fashion. The cats were never ones for physical contact, but Luna and Moth were cuddled along his shoulder, tails batting at his face occasionally.

Shiro smirked, “you regret getting the dog anymore?”

“Hmm, less so.”

The night Shiro had gotten a phone call from Keith had been one of the most terrifying in his life (and he would stand by that even years later after the Kerberos mission and after Voltron.) He had been eating a late night supper with Adam after they returned from a movie date. The holidays had just started, meaning the students and staff were granted a week off.

Of course, the first thing Shiro had done was invite Keith over to their apartment for the break, but for once, Keith had refused, claiming that he would spend the holidays with his two younger foster sisters. Apparently, he didn’t want them to be alone just as much as Shiro and Adam didn’t want him to be alone.

He had promised to call them if he needed anything, anything at all, but Shiro didn’t expect for that call to actually come, not even a full day into the break.

“The controls on that movie were completely unrealistic,” Adam pointed out, chuckling to himself as he twirled the spaghetti around his fork.

Going out to see space and sci-fi movies was something Adam and Shiro took great joy in, only because they got to point out the many flaws in them.

“There was a whole alien colony hell bent on mating with the main character and that's what you were focused on?” Shiro teased, standing up to put his now empty plate into the dishwasher. “Ten out of ten would not watch again, that was mainly fanservice at the highest level possible. This is why we need to watch trailers before actually going to see the movie itself.”

Adam followed behind, putting his dishes next to Shiro’s, a smile never leaving his face, “yeah, well if we would have seen the trailer we would have thought we were walking into watch a seriously bad porno.”

Shiro agreed with the sentiment.

That was when the night had gone to shit. He had been focused on washing the dishes and Adam had been so focused on washing off the table that Shiro didn’t notice his phone ringing until after he wiped his hands dry. He reached for his phone unhurriedly to look at the contact, and when he noticed it was Keith, his heart stopped.

He quickly pressed the green answer button before the call could end and held it up to his ear. “Hello? Keith?” He immediately asked, and after a beat of silence, “are you there, is everything okay? You usually don’t call.”

Adam froze from wiping the rag across the table, slowly tuning in on the conversation and apprehension in Shiro’s tone.

“He’s- he’s not saying anything,” Shiro provided before putting the phone back to his ear. “Keith? Did you accidentally call? Is this a sleep texting situation?” He had gotten a few texts from Keith late at night when the boy was sleeping, his favorite being ‘Chicken busy.’ To which Shiro responded with, ‘Goodnight Keith.’

Despite those mishaps, Keith had never called in his sleep.

He listened intently until he heard it, a small, pained wheeze. It was such a weak sound and Shiro had never heard it from the kid before. “Keith, was that you?”

Then came a wet cough and a “Sh’ro?”

“Keith, Keith!” Shiro felt panic bloom in his gut, and Adam was quick to grab for his own phone, probably pinging Keith’s location on their life 360 group. “Hey bud, what’s wrong, talk to me and tell me about the situation.”

“I ne’ help,” Keith said simply, but those three words made Shiro’s blood run cold.

“Okay, are you hurt badly?”

“...Yeah.”

That was all Shiro needed. He stayed on the line with Keith, trying to keep him awake as he ran for the truck, Adam hot on his heels. “He’s at his foster home,” Adam hissed, “I called an ambulance, but we should get there before them if we break some traffic laws.”

And if Adam was the one suggesting they break code, then Shiro was going to speed like his life depended on it. He tried to keep Keith engaged through the quick five minute ride, but he could feel him slipping.

Shiro didn’t even bother to park neatly, running the truck through the uncut front yard and not bothering to turn the truck off as he hurried to the front door. It was locked, but that didn’t sway him, he only wasted a second kicking the hard wood in. (He would normally not be able to do that, and Shiro wondered if this was what people called those ‘parental adrenaline’ moments when moms were able to lift cars to save their kid who had been trapped under it.)

Keith wasn’t far from the door, laying on the floor. It looked like he had been leaning against the wall but didn’t have the energy to stay up if the blood trail leading down the wall was anything to go by. He zeroed in on Keith’s figure and quickly slid over to the boy, stabilizing his head in his lap in case of a seizure.

Adam crouched down by the kids side, letting Garrison’s medical training kick in as he probed Keith’s body for any internal or external wounds. That was when Keith looked up to Shiro like he was looking up at an angel, his eyes glassy and pain-stricken.

“Keith!” Shiro desperately cried, “stay awake!”

It was lost on him though, as he slipped back to dreamland.

“How’s he looking?” Shiro asked, trying to do anything besides think of Keith’s limp hand in his.

Adam looked sober, a stark contrast to how playful he had been just ten minutes ago, “bad, a lot of broken ribs and other injuries. That head one could be a real issue.” He nodded to the constantly bleeding fracture that Shiro had been pressing down on with the cloth of his button up shirt, “Shiro if the ambulance doesn't get here soon-”

He left them at that as they desperately did anything they could to salvage their boy.

Luckily, after three minutes rolled by the ambulance and fire crew burst through the doors, stretcher in hand. Adam was quick to rattle off the many injuries to the head medic as Shiro numbly helped them lift Keith onto the bed.

“Critical condition,” one had said, “-hospital immediately.”

And like a whirlwind, Keith was taken away from them, and Adam had to keep Shiro from running after them and doing anything he could to keep Keith in his sights. The fire and police chiefs had stopped him.

“We have a few questions to ask,” one said apologetically, “then we will scope the scene and start the case and you can follow behind the ambulance in your truck. We can give you the rundown version of it now and then question more into detail once you are at the hospital.”

Case.

They were already treating Keith like he was a dead body.

Adam’s hand slipped into his, an anchor in the raging whirlpool around him. As Adam talked with the sergeants, Shiro’s gaze swept across the scene. There was vomit on the floor near the stairs, smeared across it unnaturally. Then there was blood. So much blood. A trail dripping down the stairs, a trail leading to the restroom-

Wait.

“There's two other kids here,” Shiro realized, and before anyone could stop him he bounded up the stairs, not giving a shit if he was ruining the blood splatter under his shoes. He already knew who did this. Shiro saw red.

“Nina!” he called, “Nandia! This is Shiro, Keith’s friend! You’re safe now, you can come out!” It was silent and Shiro strained his ears for any more noise until he heard the little sobs coming from the room furthest from the hallway. “I’m coming to help you!” He called, and felt the police and Adams presence follow behind him as he entered the two twin girls room. They were nowhere to be seen, but knowing Keith…

Shiro knocked lightly on the walls until he felt a hollow spot. He ripped the wallpaper aside and found a cleverly concealed hatch. “I’m opening the door now, you don’t need to hide anymore, he’s gone.”

And when he came back, Shiro would make him wish he had never become a foster Father in the first place.

The two girls were huddled in the corner the furthest away. The room was small enough for the two of them to fit into, but not a third party. “It’s okay,” he reassured, “it’s going to be okay.”

After all was said and done and Adam and Shiro had both explained the situation to a kind police officer, they were left in the waiting room of the sterile hospital. Shiro Nor Adam liked hospitals and avoided them at all cost, in fact, the last time they had been to a hospital was when Adam had broken his leg in a flight malfunction when the Garrison lost power.

The twins were unharmed, and Shiro had a feeling that it was all thanks to Keith. They weren’t physically harmed but mentally, who knew how they were. They had been checked over by a pediatrician and soon after, a case worker had picked them up and taken them somewhere to stay for the night, probably a hotel room or even a new home.

The police had checked on them within an hour and announced that the foster Father was in custody, and had drunkenly confessed to beating the shit out of Keith. They wouldn’t have to worry about a court case now, but it still wasn’t satisfying to Shiro unless he could punch the man's face in.

An hour after that, a doctor finally returned to the room. Shiro and Adam immediately stood up from the uncomfortable plastic chairs.

“Keith will be okay,” the doctor cut to the chase, something Shiro appreciated, “his injuries will keep him in here for a few days, but after that he’ll be released. The hospital already contacted his caseworker, she should be arriving any minute now.”

Keith’s case worker. Right, of course he would have a social worker.

“Can we see him?” Adam asked, and the doctor looked between the two.

“Typically I wouldn’t let anyone not related to the patient into the room but… seeing as he has no one else, yes, you may visit him.”

Shiro’s shoulders slumped with relief, and just as he was about to follow the doctor back to Keith’s room, a woman with blonde hair and a tight bun stopped them. “I’m here to see…” she looked down at her clipboard, and with a surge of anger Shiro realized that she didn’t even know Keith’s name. “Keith? I’ve been his case agent since his Father died, so I should take priority.”

Oh no the fuck she shouldn’t -

“Shiro,” Adam warned, then stepped up to shake her perfectly manicured hand, “I am Adam and this is Shiro. We’ve grown very close to Keith and I would like to have a conversation with you about him, if that is okay with you.”

The woman raised a disbelieving eyebrow, “you are close with him? Judging from his rocky records, he should have trouble making friends with kids his own age, let alone adults.”

“We’re not pimps and we’re not child predators,” Shiro growled, “now I am going to see Keith while Adam talks about the matter of his custody with you.” Without another look back, he urged the doctor to hurry them to Keith.

Shiro definitely owed Adam, but he would worry about that later. Adam knew what he had been insinuating, but he also knew that they wouldn’t be able to rest easy until Keith was safe again, and if that meant having the boy live with them legally (even if he felt more like a little brother) then Shiro was fine with that.

It was hard to look at Keith’s battered body for too long. The hospital bed made him look smaller and significantly pailer. The thin gown and itchy blankets did little to hide his shivers. Bandages covered his entire torso and were expertly wrapped around the front part of his forehead. Tufts of black, blood stained hair stuck out at all angles. His arms were wrapped heavily, one in a cast, bruised and probably even fractured from trying to block the man's blows.

“He should be waking up soon,” the doctor said in a soft voice, “I find that the best thing a loved one can do is clean them up a little.” The doctor placed a bowl of water on the bedside table, a rag next to it.

“Thank you,” Shiro said, his voice cracking.

“No problem.”

Keith had finally woken up when Shiro just finished wiping the rest of the crusted blood from his eye that had been swollen shut. Shiro had brushed a hand through his hair to get the flaked blood out earlier.

“Sh’ro?” Keith croaked, and immediately Shiro grabbed onto the hand that wasn’t in a cast.

“Hey Keith,” he breathed shakily, and the vice grip around his neck lessened to where he could breath. Keith was alive. He was okay, “I’m here buddy, I'm here.”

Keith dazedly looked over to him, eyes drooping, “Thanks,” he managed, “you didn’t… didn’t have to-”

“Dammit Keith,” Shiro’s words were harsh but his tone was fond, “what did I say about doing that? You asked for help and I came, simple. And it’s a good thing too because you would have- you would have died.”

Keith didn’t look too surprised, but instead of worrying about himself his eyes widened, “Nina and Nandia, are they-”

Shiro gently pushed Keith back down onto the bed when he tried to sit up, “they’re safe and unharmed. Good thinking, a wall cellar. Crafty.”

Keith sunk back onto the bed, lungs rattling in his chest as he breathed harshly. As if sitting up had felt like running a marathon. “I guess… I guess you know now, huh?”

“That your Foster Father was a piece of shit? Yeah.” Shiro put the wet rag down onto the table, resorting to brushing the hair away from Keith’s face. He may not like contact, but he needed it now, Shiro could tell. “You don’t have to worry about him anymore.”

Keith’s eye widened, “Did you kill-”

“I wish,” Shiro admitted, tone dark. “He’s in jail, confessed to everything he did. He shouldn’t get out for a long while, a life sentence, i’m sure. What he did was attempted murder and you are proof enough.”

Keith made a humming noise in the back of his throat and Shiro finally pulled back. “You know you could have told me and Adam,” it was a simple statement but it held a lot of meaning.

“I… I know,” Keith let out a chest rattling cough and when Shiro moved to grab some water Keith’s hand squeezed his, “I know, but n-no one else listened to me before. I’m… i’m unlearning what… what they taught me.”

Something hot and heavy lingered in Shiro’s throat, tearing at his vocal cords as he nodded in understanding. He didn’t trust himself to talk after a full minute, afraid his voice would come out shaky. “Good, that’s, ahem, good. Those homes, did they all beat you?”

Keith pulled a thoughtful look, and it was as if now that he had been caught in his most vulnerable, he was finally ready to confess it all to Shiro’s listening ears. He was ready to accept his shoulder to cry on. “Not… not all of ‘em. Some were nice,” the ‘but they didn’t want me anyway’ went left unsaid. “Some had a-alot of kids, not enough to space or… food to go around. Some made me w-work for money and some j-just got a kick outta punching kids around.”

Shiro wanted to sob. He wanted to kick down the bedside table and demand the names of the other foster parents. He wanted to take Keith home and keep him in their apartment forever, in that safe little bubble.

But Keith was a fighter and he would come back up swinging.

“And did… did they ever touch you?” Shiro had to ask, he needed to know and let the police know, “Like, inappropriately?”

At Keith’s downwards glance and tight-lipped silence, Shiro found his unfortunate answer.

“Okay,” he sighed, “I won’t ask any more invasive questions, that one was just really important. How Would you feel if once your released from the hospital, you come to live with-”

“Keith,” a monotone voice said from the doorway, and Shiro turned to see the social worker entering, her heels clacking against the tile. Adam was close behind her, making a beeline to Shiro’s side. He had a stack of papers in his hand and plopped them down onto the bedside table. He caught a long glimpse of Keith and gave the kid a reassuring smile.

Keith just looked like he was ready to fall asleep again. He was probably too hopped up on pain meds to hide his disdain at the woman.

“Keith,” she said again, and the boy snapped up to attention, “what happened at the last home was unfortunate, and the system has failed to look deeper into his case-”

“Unfortunate?” Shiro asked, “the system wasn’t the one who failed to look deeper, this was your fault. Aren’t you supposed to be the one looking after Keith? Aren’t you supposed to be checking in with him twice a week to make sure he isn’t being mistreated?” He snarled, “No lady, this was all on you.”

The lady glanced at him cooly before returning to Keith, who was now sitting up in bed and swinging his legs over the edge like he was about to get up and walk right out of the hospital with her.

“Stay down, here,” Adam helped Keith lay back down and adjusted the covers back to his chest, “what are you getting up for? You’re in no condition to be released today.”

Keith’s violet eyes filled with confusion and he looked between the social worker and Shiro and Adam. “I though- I thought she was taking me to my next home?”

Shiro sighed, running his fingers through his hair, “No buddy, that’s what I was about to ask you, How would you feel about coming home with us?”

Keith smiled, exhausted, but enough to alleviate the pressure on Shiro’s nervous heart. “You,,, you think I would say no? Not a… Not a chance.”

Then he fell asleep.

It took a while to root through the legal matters of now having Keith live with them. A new social worker had been hired and had performed inspections on Shiro and Adams apartment, looked deep into the records and their jobs, and did an extensive interview with the both of them. He even made sure their vet records were up to date (but he was a very nice man, much warmer than the other worker. As it turned out, he had kids of his own, and a wife who was a baker at the Garret bakery.)

Once it was all clear and Keith had finally gained the clearance to live with them, no giant change occurred. It simply felt right to finally, officially let Keith claim the old guest room. It felt right to take him shopping for new clothes and stock the fridge up with even more meals and snacks (hell, Adam even fell off of the healthy snack only horse when he noticed Keith eyeing the many snacks at the store with wonder. “To hell with it” he had said, throwing a whole box of cookies into the cart.)

Of course, Keith still lived in the Garrison dorms, but when they all came home together it felt perfect to Shiro. When Adam woke up early to make breakfast and Shiro carefully woke Keith up in a way that didn’t startle him, it felt perfect. When Keith woke them up screaming with nightmares and Shiro and Adam were there to calm him down from his panic attacks, it felt right to be by his side.

There were bumps along the road. Things Keith had unlearn.

He had to unlearn eating until his stomach physically couldn’t take it, forcing him to vomit the food up. He had to unlearn saying he was okay with everything and that asking for help was a sign of weakness. He had to unlearn keeping to himself even if he wanted to be vocal and share his feelings.

He had to learn how to be a teenager.

And even if years later Shiro was lost in an intergalactic space war, he would always find Keith and Adam again because they were a family and nothing could change that.