Chapter Text
If you asked Keith, the day started off pretty regularly. He and the other Paladins woke up early to a training drill, ate their weird green space goo for breakfast, did necessary maintenance around the castleship, trained some more, and then went off to do their respective hobbies. It was a normal day. They were doing well in the fight against Zarkon; the Voltron Coalition was growing by the day, it was good. They could relax, sometimes. Except, apparently not, because the moment he thought that, the castle’s alarms started blaring on about unidentified life forms aboard the ship.
What Keith had been doing at the time was enjoying the feel of Lance’s hands mindlessly carding through his hair. Braiding and unbraiding strands without thought as he babbled off some story or another. Hunk was sat next to them fiddling with some gadget—likely made by Pidge. Whether the story was directed at Keith or Hunk, he didn’t know, he just hummed occasionally enough to make himself come off as interested.
Of course, now, he was suffering the loss of Lance’s hands because everybody immediately leaped into action at the sound of the alarms. Even Keith, who’d been perhaps five doboshes from falling asleep, was now wide awake. He had very few choice words he wanted to share with the intruders and had yet to decide whether he’d say them before or after letting them meet the end of his blade. Distantly, he remembered Lance once saying he was a ‘shoot first, ask questions later and they WOULDN’T BE ABLE TO ANSWER BECAUSE THEY’D BE DEAD’ kind of guy. Lance was right, sometimes. As if he’d ever tell him that.
Once they’d all scrambled into their armor and grabbed their bayards, making it to the control room with the Princess and Coran, they were completely huffing and puffing in their scrabble. Clearly, they’d been relaxing too much lately. It was dulling their reaction times.
“How many are there?” Pidge asked, still leaning with their hands on their knees in order to catch their breath.
Allura pursed her lips, “There appears to be five of them,” she said in her distinctly British accent.
“Can you pull up the video feed?” Shiro asked.
The Princess nodded tersely, typing swiftly until four separate camera feeds came up. It was the content of those screens that put the Paladins on pause, because, of the faces they could see, these people were clearly human. No strange skin tones or oddly shaped ears or what have you. Only two of the five didn’t have their faces covered, so it was hard to tell, but by the looks of it, these ‘intruders’ were from Earth. Another thing was their outfits. Because what the hell?
One of them was in a full-fledged mechanized suit of armor painted red and gold (much like his own usual jacket, he thought). Another was in a padded costume that looked halfway between a party superhero and actual combat gear, but that wasn’t what caught his eye—no, it was the distinctly American flag-themed design (A voice that sounded oddly like Lance was sing-songing Puerto Rico in the back of his mind). Even the shield the man was carrying was striped and starred, red, white, and blue. There was another person on Mr. America’s screen, polarizing in color scheme, and this person reminded him so much of Shiro that he was momentarily stunned. Dark hair, full-black combat gear, and a metal arm. Both are silver, high-tech, and plated. One of the only differences, Keith noted with some relief, was the side the arm was on. Shiro was missing his right, whereas this man was missing his left.
He couldn’t see the faces of those three. Mecha-Man was covering his whole face—he was a sentry for all Keith knew about robots. Mr. America was wearing a cowl that covered the top half of his head. And now, as he looked closer, perhaps that was a fitting nickname as there was a giant ‘A’ on said cowl. The third man, Shiro’s sort of doppelgänger, was wearing a mask over the lower half of his face. He was carrying a giant rifle by his shoulder that was aimed toward the ceiling, and by the looks of it, discreetly armed with much more than that in various other places.
Keith looked to the two remaining screens, the people without masks. One of them was wearing a skin-tight black latex bodysuit, also secretly armed to the teeth. She was the only woman on the team so far—as he still wasn’t sure about Mecha-Person—with short red hair. The woman was very pretty and moved skillfully, not unlike a well-trained member of The Blade of Marmora. The last person looked the most out of place. He was completely shirtless, wearing torn purple trousers. Khakis, by the looks of it. Keith wasn’t sure about the differences in pant styles. He seemed mildly terrified but fascinated at the same time, and although he didn’t look dangerous, Keith knew all too well not to judge a book by its cover.
So, somehow, five hostiles got onto their ship completely undetected. That… did not bode well. He was just about to say as much when Shiro spoke for him.
“I don’t think they’re hostile.”
Everybody, including Keith, seemed put off by that assessment. Allura looked to speak, but Shiro held up a hand in a universal sign of silence. The Princess was affronted by such a gesture but dutifully kept quiet.
“Their biorhythms are all human, correct?” Allura briefly glanced at her screen before nodding hesitantly and making a so-so hand gesture. “They might be friendly,” Shiro said placatingly.
As much as Keith wanted to agree with him, they couldn’t afford to make bets on ‘might be’s’. This was war. Taking chances wasn’t an option.
It seemed Shiro could tell how little his comrades agreed with him because he sighed, “Let them come here, and if we find out they’re not friendly, we fight.”
“This isn’t like the Blade of Marmora, Shiro! What if they’re not friendly and we can’t take them, huh?!” Keith yelled, sudden even to himself. Shiro was being so stupid. Why couldn’t he see that they couldn’t risk it? These people looked dangerous. There was a chance they couldn’t fight them, and then what? What, in the long run, did that mean for the Galaxy? For all life forms out there in dire need of salvation?
For once, it seemed the other Paladins agreed with Keith. Lance put a hand on Keith’s back and smoothed over it calmingly.
The problem was that they were so busy arguing that they completely forgot about the intruders, and by then, it was too late. They showed up and got into a defensive stance at the sight of them, with the Voltron Paladins doing the same. It turned into a stare-down, though it wasn’t the most effective of stare-downs.
Mr. America stepped to the front of the group, with Mecha-Man and Kinda-Shiro flanking him on either side and the other two to the back. Mr. America must be the leader then. Shiro stepped forward, too, with Keith and Lance backing him up.
“Who are you?” Mr. America asked with a professional coldness.
Shiro raised his eyebrows, “First Lieutenant Takashi Shirogane; and I could ask you the same question,” He said, easing up his stance just a tad. Keith readjusted his grip on his sword.
Mr. America shifted his shield, narrowing his eyes, “Captain Steve Rogers. Now, I’ll only ask this one more time, who are you?”
“We’re the Paladins of Voltron,” Shiro replied, “And you?”
“The Avengers.”
Shiro exchanged a glance with Keith, and Keith shrugged. He had no idea who the Avengers were.
“Who are the Avengers?”
That seemed to make the man—Captain Rogers—pause. Actually, it made his whole group pause, but the two in black showed it less.
Not-Shiro cleared his throat, “Obviously, neither of us knows what’s going on. If you lower your weapons, we’ll lower ours. Deal?”
Keith didn’t like that idea… at all. He looked at his comrades, and they seemed on the fence until Hunk lowered his bayard hesitantly. He was followed by Pidge, and then Lance, and then Shiro… until all that was left on the defensive was Keith. The so-called ‘Avengers’ didn’t lower their weapons, and the other Paladins looked at Keith, willing him to move. Heaving a sigh, he did so, but with no small amount of reluctance.
Then did their opposers also relax. Captain Rogers slung his shield around until it latched onto his back, walking forward with an easy sway of his hips and broad shoulders. He took off his cowl, revealing a handsome blonde man with high cheekbones, strong features, and piercing ocean-blue eyes. A distinctly human man. It eased Keith a little.
Once the Captain removed his mask, his friends took that as a sign to do the same. Mecha-Man’s face flipped up to reveal that he was, in fact, a man—he looked older than Captain Rogers, with mussed brown hair and tired brown eyes. Keith couldn’t exactly tell if Mecha-Man and Torn-Maybe-Khakis guy were close in age or not. But they both looked very tired. What stunned Keith the most was Not-Shiro’s face. When he removed what could only be called a muzzle from over his jaw, it showed he was a man arguably more handsome than Captain Rogers—actually, this entire team appeared to be very attractive, which confused Keith to no end because teams like that are only all good-looking in comic books. Not real life.
Not-Shiro had a very rugged appearance, which just added to the handsomeness factor (in Keith’s humble opinion). It also made him a lot more like Shiro. Piercing gray-blue eyes mixed with a pronounced dimpled chin and high cheekbones made for a very attractive combination.
And Keith was stuck with Lance. Eughhh.
Speaking of Lance, Keith heard a gasp from that side, and before he could keep Lance from saying something stupid, Lance said:
“Why are you all white? And hot, but more importantly, white!”
Keith facepalmed.
Captain Rogers raised his eyebrows but showed no other emotions, and Mecha-Man burst out laughing. The Captain opened his mouth to say something but Lance didn’t let him.
“No, no, no. No! Why is every single one of you white? You’re a team of resistance fighters, right? Those are supposed to be at least mixed-race. Unless you’re the Blade of Marmora, of course. Which you clearly aren’t because the only one that isn’t purple is Keithy-pie over here.”
Typical Lance. Dumb. Dumb as hell. He didn’t even care about the endearments anymore. He’d finally learned to realize what bigger problems looked like.
Captain Rogers and the rest of his team (minus Mecha-Man, who was still laughing; Lethal Redhead at least looked amused) were completely taken aback by the outburst. The Captain absently mouthed ‘Blade of Marmora’ before closing his eyes and giving a slow, almost exasperated shake of his head.
“Look, kid, you don’t know who we are, and we don’t know who you are, so—well, for one, don’t make assumptions. Two, we were separated from the rest of our team. I assure you not all of us are white. Or human, even. Third, I think some more introductions are in order,” Captain Rogers supplied amiably.
Lance seemed pleased to be given the opportunity to introduce himself—and the rest of them—and did so with a great flourish. He pointed a thumb at himself, stupid grin, and whatever else that thing he did with his face was called all in place, “Yours truly is the one and only Lance McClain, aka Loverboy Lance, aka the Blue Paladin, aka the Sharpshooter.”
Oh, quiznak.
Lance pointed to Shiro with his thumb, “You’ve already met Shiro, our fearless leader, the Black Paladin.” He then pointed to Hunk, “This is Hunk, my best friend, a culinary genius among other flavors of genius. The Gentle Giant. The Yellow Paladin.”
The Blue Paladin proceeded to twirl around to Pidge before putting his hands on their shoulders, “This is Pidge Holt, yes of THE Holts. Save your applause, save your applause. Coding and tech mastermind, Pidge is the numbers enby of the group. The Nerd. The Green Paladin.” Pidge blushed at the praise, fixing their glasses with a dismissive cough.
He made jazz hands at Coran, “Coran, Coran, the gorgeous man! He is well over ten thousand years old and doesn’t look a day over fifty! He is the Princess’s advisor, and he keeps this castle running!”
Keith saw Captain Rogers turn to Not-Shiro and whisper with wide eyes, “This is supposed to be a castle?” To which Not-Shiro shrugged helplessly.
Allura raised her head proudly when Lance got to her. “This is Princess Allura, the castle’s pilot! She is also our mission coordinator. Again, also over ten thousand years old, but she hasn’t aged since the day she turned seventeen.”
Not-Shiro leaned towards Captain Rogers, whispering, “I have one better for you. This is supposed to be a castle and a spaceship.”
And then Lance waltzed up to Keith, and with no embellishments, said, “And this is Keith. My boyfriend. The Red Paladin.”
Keith splayed his hands out in mock outrage, “That’s it? That’s all I get?”
Lance looked at him incredulously. “Do you want an outrageously overdone introduction?”
“I—... well, no.”
“Exactly, don’t say I don’t know you, because I do.” He punctuated that statement with a smack of a kiss on Keith’s cheek. He rubbed the spot for show, hoping it distracted from the blush he knew was rising on his cheeks.
Lance slung an arm over Keith’s shoulders, still grinning at the ‘Avengers. ’ He swept out a hand in a universal sign of ‘now you,’ “I believe it’s your turn.”
Captain Rogers’s face was a weird mix of emotions and he closed his eyes briefly as if still processing before he opened them again, “As you know, I am Captain Steven Grant Rogers, codename Captain America,” Wow, maybe Keith should get a medal for guessing dumb superhero names, “But you can just call me Steve. If we’re showing off being old, I’m a hundred and four. Not close to ten thousand, but I think it counts.”
Captain Rogers—er, Steve—barely even looked thirty, let alone a hundred and four. Keith was curious about what it was with people living so much longer than they were supposed to. Also, he was pretty sure the Captain was making a joke just now. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion.
Steve put a hand out towards Not-Shiro, “This is Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, codename Winter Soldier.”
Sergeant Barnes rolled his eyes. “And your husband.”
“And my husband,” Steve conceded.
There was a brief silence as Barnes blinked at Steve before sighing and shouldering him out of the way, “Stevie, you suck at this.”
Steve scratched the back of his neck awkwardly but didn’t deny it.
“You can call me Bucky. And because Steve here pointed it out, I’m adding on by saying I’m the oldest of us at a hundred and six,” He, Bucky, said, giving what looked like a somewhat forced smile.
Bucky gestured to Mecha-Man. “This is Tony Stark, codename Iron Man,” Okay, yeah, Keith wants his medal now, “He has several PhDs but don’t call him Doctor, he doesn’t like it.”
Stark raised an eyebrow, “You’re skipping over the Genius, Billionaire, Playboy, Philanthropist part?”
Bucky looked unimpressed. “The genius part was implied with the PhDs. For the rest, well, A; being a billionaire matters very little in space. B; you’re married, too, so… not a playboy anymore, unless you have something you want me to tell Pepper when we get back? And C; I’m not calling you a philanthropist, and it’s rather conceited to call yourself one.”
Stark slumped, looking grumpy.
Bucky pointed to Lethal Redhead, “This is Natasha Romanov, codename Black Widow,” Keith resisted frowning at that. He then pointed to the Torn-Maybe-Khakis guy, “That’s Dr. Bruce Banner, codename Hulk. Any questions?”
“I have one,” Pidge said, speaking for the first time in a while as they pushed their glasses farther up their face, “Why are you all dressed like you’re cosplaying superheroes?”
“Oh, I can answer that,” Said Stark, with a roguish grin that, for a moment, reminded Keith terribly of Lance, “Maybe because we are superheroes.”
That got a surprised laugh out of Pidge, and Keith could admit he was also shocked by such a stupid notion. Pidge smiled, voice dripping with almost sarcasm and a tinge of mockery, “Oh, yeah? And what are your powers?”
“I engineered a fully weaponized mechanical suit of armor from scratch, kid. While dying in the desert and only the most crude resources available to me. I don’t need to have powers,” Stark said, egging Pidge on.
Pidge squinted at him in annoyance before shifting their focus to Natasha, “You?”
“I’m afraid that’s classified,” She said coolly.
The Green Paladin huffed and turned to Dr. Banner, “Okay, what about you?” It was less of a question and more of a thinly veiled statement that said ‘I don’t believe you have any powers, but I’m asking anyway.’
“Uh,” The man said, twiddling his thumbs anxiously, “I turn into a giant green rage monster. That’s… that’s where the name ‘Hulk’ comes from.”
See? This is why Keith chose to reserve judgment. It doesn’t matter how harmless the man looks; a giant green rage monster sounds very damaging.
Pidge raised their eyebrows—Keith couldn’t tell if it was surprise, disbelief, or curiosity—maybe a mix of the three, and they turned to Steve and Bucky. “You two?”
“Super strength,” They both said at the same time before Bucky continued, “And if you want to get really specific, enhanced agility, healing, senses, durability, and endurance. Among other things,” He added, flexing his metal hand.
“Okaaaay,” Pidge said lowly, clearly starting to feel out of their element.
There it was again, that awkward silence. It was obvious to Keith that these guys were at least normal to some extent, otherwise they wouldn’t be affected by awkward silences. It was something Keith noticed in bad guys, they typically didn’t get nervous or awkward around the enemy. At least not visibly. Galra Mall Cops and Lackeys were a different story. They were just plain incompetent.
So he took matters into his own hands. “The introductions were nice and all, but that doesn’t explain how you got on our ship.”
Stark made an odd squeaky sound, “Er, well, we were hoping you’d know the answer to that.”
“Excuse me?” Keith said, leaning forward subconsciously, only realizing it when Shiro put a hand on his shoulder to prevent him from doing it more.
Steve shifted on his feet. “Well, one minute we were in the middle of rebuilding, and the next… we were here.”
Pidge put a hand to their chin in thought, “What were you rebuilding and why, if you don’t mind me asking?”
The ‘Avengers’ seemed surprised by this question as well, which was odd. It was like to them, the questions should have been common sense. Maybe it was. With everything the Galra were doing, it very well could have been something completely normal and random.
“You know… the fight with Thanos? He wiped out half of all life? We were undoing that…?” Dr. Banner offered meekly.
Lance’s eyes looked like they were bugging out of his head. “Who? What?!”
“Thanos,” Steve repeated slowly, ever so helpful.
“I’m… sorry—but, uh, we don’t know who ‘Thanos’ is.” Shiro seemed very apologetic even though these guys were clearly out of their minds.
The Avengers reached probably the peak of their shock by this point. Stark stepped forward, “Uh, tall buff guy, purple, chin looks like a saggy nut sack, looking for the Infinity Stones?”
“The Infinity Stones?” Allura said, confused, looking at Coran for answers.
Coran shrugged, “Never heard of them, Princess.”
“Call me Crazy,” Said Natasha, “But I think we’ve crossed over dimensions.”
Steve sighed, putting his face in his hands, “Why am I not surprised?”
Lance raised his hand with a very skeptical expression on his face, “You said this Thanos guy was a giant purple alien?”
“Yes, that about sums it up,” Steve said.
“Sound familiar, anyone?” Lance said, turning to the paladins.
And, oh. Oh no. There are two of them.
“Zarkon,” Allura had a very chilled expression on her face, a dawning horror that slowly spread to the rest of the Paladin’s own faces.
“Zarkon?” Stark asked, tilting his head.
“He’s the emperor of the Galran empire. For ten thousand years, he’s been taking over the universe and destroying planets, families, and lives, with no regard for the wellbeing of anybody,” Allura explained, “The Galra, t-they… they killed my parents and destroyed my home planet of Altea,” She said, and Keith could feel a withering glare burning holes into the back of his head.
It didn’t go unnoticed by their guests. Stark pressed his lips together in a tight scowl, looking at Bucky, who lowered his head, “Yeah, I know what it feels like to have your parents killed.”
Keith wondered if he and Bucky had more in common than he initially realized, other than the whole broody act. Steve made a face at Stark but said nothing, instead letting his gaze wash over the Paladins in assessment. He looked at his team again, and this time, it seemed they were all having a silent conversation.
“We’ve already defeated Thanos,” The Captain said slowly. “Perhaps we could be of help with this Zarkon guy?”
Allura looked delighted by this, and she, Coran, Shiro, Steve, Natasha, Bruce, Pidge, and Tony quickly all got to strategizing. Steve asked for Bucky to stay with them but he just shook his head and said he’s had enough alien talk for one day. Keith wanted to help but Shiro subtly nodded to Bucky, and Keith realized Shiro saw the same thing he did. Bucky had a teammate who didn’t trust him, and he thought Keith could sympathize with him.
This meant that Lance, Keith, Hunk, and Bucky were left to sit in the common room while everybody else did the important things. It was awkward; none of them knew what to say. Well, most of them didn’t.
“So… your husband,” Lance edged, leering at Bucky in a way that filled Keith with dread, “He’s hot. Where’d you find him?”
“Lance!” Keith hissed, absolutely flabbergasted at the audacity.
“What?!” He squeaked, defensively spreading his arms, “You were staring at him, too!”
“No, I wasn’t!”
Hunk had his face in his hands, and Bucky was looking increasingly amused. Time and time again, Keith questions his taste in men. Lance studied him for a moment before getting a very cheeky grin. The dread worsened tenfold.
“Oh, I see…” He said, “You weren’t looking at Captain Rogers… you were looking at Barnes.”
Keith blushed all the way up to his ears, and the man in question was looking between him and Lance with a smirk on his face like he knew. Keith. Hates. Everyone.
“Can we not talk about this?” Keith asked, voice raising as he crossed his arms.
Hunk looked between all three of them anxiously before jumping to his feet, “I’m going to go make snacks!” He proclaimed before scurrying out of the room as quickly as humanly possible. Keith wished he was in a position to follow.
“As flattering as this is,” Bucky interjected, “I’d like to answer the question that started this whole endearing debate.”
Lance’s head snapped to attention eagerly. Keith was grateful for the reprieve but also very, very worried.
“I found him in an alleyway when I was seven getting the snot kicked out of him by a group of older boys. Naturally, I put a stop to it. We’ve been thick as thieves ever since.”
Keith had to put his hand under Lance’s jaw to keep it from hanging open, much like his own wanted to do. That hunk of a man? Getting beat up? If Keith’s math was to be believed, Rogers would have been six at the time, so he supposed it made sense. He’s never seen a buff six-year-old before. But still, it was hard to believe.
“Him?!” Lance finally cried in disbelief, “Getting beat up?!”
“Believe it or not, Steve used to be a real scrawny fellow. Short. Always getting sick. I was worried every winter that it’d be his last,” Bucky recalled thoughtfully, resting his chin in the palm of his hand and his elbow on his knee.
“Nuh-uh! Nuh-uh! No way! That guy?!” Keith felt pity for Lance’s small brain, he really did. It was facing many mind-boggling conundrums today. This seemed to be the final nail in the coffin that would blow the gasket. Yes, he was mixing up metaphors. Did it make sense? No. Did he care? Also no. Maybe he was tired, too. Give a man a break.
Bucky laughed. It sounded nice. Crinkled the crow’s feet in the corner of his eyes attractively. As Keith stated before, he was a very good-looking man. Too bad he was married. Keith would genuinely consider leaving Lance to shoot his shot. What a shame it was, what a shame. The good ones are always taken.
After they got over themselves, there was a loaded silence. Lots of pressing questions. No idea of which to start with. Keith took a leap of faith.
“You don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to,” He said, looking at the floor. Bucky cast him a wary eye, “But if I may, why does that Stark guy look at you like that?”
Lance, to his credit for which there was very little, seemed to register the change and mood, leaning back into the couch to listen seriously. Bucky chewed his lip, moving to clasp his hands in front of him, shifting nervously as he bounced his leg.
“I killed his parents when he was fifteen,” He admitted. “He kinda hates me for that.”
Lance whistled lowly, “Shit. I would hate you, too.” Keith gave him a withering glare in response, and he shrunk in on himself.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but that happened a while ago, didn’t it?” He asked. If it happened when Stark was fifteen, then it’s been at least thirty years. That's a long time to hold a grudge.
“It did,” Bucky confirmed, “But he only found out it was me a few years ago. Before that, it was staged as a car accident.”
That made more sense. Reopened wounds hurt the same as fresh ones, no matter how old they were. Open will always be open. Exposed.
“Why did you do it?” Lance blurted, seemingly realizing his folly as he immediately covered his mouth in an attempt to stop his question that had already been said.
The man before them tilted his head, considering the question before sighing, “I didn’t have a choice,” he lamented. “I was a POW for a very, very long time. I… I wasn’t myself. I did a lot of things I’m not proud of. Killed a lot of innocent people. I’m still trying to repent for my actions.”
“He shouldn’t blame you for that,” Keith whispered, feeling immensely sad for this man he’d just met. This was so achingly similar to what happened to Shiro. War always did such terrible things to people. Made monsters out of good men. It’s why Keith was still fighting Zarkon, even in light of his heritage. Shiro has always given him a place to belong. He wants to repay him with that same safety the only way he knows how.
“No, he shouldn’t,” Bucky gave a half-hearted shrug, “But Stark…” He cast a glance at the door, looking deeply regretful. “He didn’t have anybody else. He had all the money in the world but no one to share it with. He wasn’t close with his father, but his mother? She was one of his only supporters. And I took that away from him.”
“I don’t know if you noticed,” Keith interjected in an attempt to sympathize, “But Allura doesn’t exactly like me, either.”
Lance was watching them both in silence, a forlorn look on his face. At some point, amidst their conversation, Hunk came back with snacks and munched on popcorn. He offered some to Lance who took a handful distractedly, almost missing his mouth as he tried to eat it without taking his eyes off Keith and Bucky.
Bucky studied him, “I noticed. Why is that?”
“My mother’s Galra,” Keith said, looking at his hands. He pulled out her Blade of Marmora from where it was sheathed behind his uniform, passing his hands over it, taking comfort from its familiarity. “You know, the people this war is against. The people who destroyed Allura’s home and species. She’s been holding it against me ever since we found out.”
“That’s hardly fair,” Bucky said, leaning forward and looking angered on Keith’s behalf.
He shrugged, “I guess. I found out when everybody else did. She trusted me just fine before that, but it’s like something’s changed in the way she sees me.”
“That’s bullshit, I’m sorry. She shouldn’t be treating you like that,” Bucky turned to look at the other two paladins present. “Have you tried to reason with her?”
Lance looked embarrassed, “I tried talking to her, but she just got mad. Like, really mad. She was spitting and hissing and I think, like, five seconds away from throwing things.”
Hunk averted his gaze, “I’m scared of confrontation.”
Bucky looked unimpressed, “Very constructive problem-solving skills here. Great teamwork.” He stated blandly.
“Pidge would probably be the best at reasoning with her,” Keith admitted, “But while very technologically inclined, emotions aren’t exactly their strong suit.”
He nodded, “If Sam were here he’d be able to help. He’s a therapist. I think this conversation would be right up his alley.” Sighing, he leaned back into the couch. “But Sam’s not here, so this is our problem.”
Lance sighed, “It feels like everything is our problem.”
And wasn’t that the truth? Keith looked at the door where everybody else was planning the downfall of an alien dictator. They had a long way to go, made far longer by their intrapersonal issues.
He had a sinking feeling in his gut about this.