Chapter Text
It was his sister's birthday.
Rachel wasn’t the type to do big parties, but it was her eighteenth birthday. They had to celebrate.
Mom had invited everyone: brothers, cousins, uncles, some dudes who said they had known them as children but whom Lance would have seen better in a Netflix documentary about budding criminals you didn't know you knew.
There was so much to do, and mom ran everyone as if they were her own army.
By 8 p.m., when Rachel arrived, everything should have been ready.
Lance was bringing the dishes to the table, and Silvio almost ran over him as he ran chasing his sister, heedless of the sweat and dirtying his clothes.
His mother came out, both hands on her hips, trying to look intimidating, "Silvio! Nadia! Stop running! You're going to knock someone over!"
But the children ignored her, leaving the woman to roll her eyes, exasperated. Despite this, however, Lance could see the smile that lit up her face.
She could try to be grumpy old woman as much as she wanted, but in the end she was a softie.
Lance smiled at her, "Admit it, I was an angel at their age."
She turned to him, her expression playful, eyes shining, "Oh, you were my little champion, darling. You almost always did what I asked you, even if you still found a way to get into trouble."
Lance chuckled as he set the table, "For your information, I never got into trouble."
"Of course not, how foolish. It's not like when you were ten years old, you almost gave me a heart attack after that little adventure of yours!"
Lance snorted as he began to set the table, "I just tried surfing! Marco was with me."
A long pause, and something changed in the air. His mother was serious: "Marco wasn’t with you. And you didn't try surfing. Don't you remember?"
The tone had now lost its trace of playfulness. She was worried, as if she were waiting for a specific answer.
As he put the dishes down at the table, Lance reflected. The head injury he took then didn't make his memories very distinct, but he knew it had happened. Marco got into trouble because he didn't listen, and everyone blamed him for getting hurt, not because Lance was a stupid ten-year-old who had something to prove.
"I know what happened. Every year, you end up telling the same story. Honestly, I feel sorry for Marco. He..."
He was abruptly interrupted; his mother had grabbed his wrist, looking at him with big, wide eyes.
She was terrified. The plates had fallen to the ground, breaking into hundreds of pieces that could have ended up under Silvio's or Nadia's feet, but she didn't seem to care.
She was looking at Lance as if the broken thing was him.
"It wasn't supposed to be this way," she began, squeezing his wrist, almost gasping, "There was a plan. A solid plan. You shouldn't be here. You should know who you are."
"Mom, what..."
The woman grabbed him by the shoulders, almost shaking him, "You have to remember. This is not you. All this was never meant for you. You were born for something more. You were born for greatness, not to be humiliated."
"What..."
"Remember, my child. Remember who you are. You have to come back. Your home needs you. A fundamental piece of prophecy is missing, without you, we will all be doomed..."
He couldn't hear the rest of the sentence. The roar of a lion drowned out his words, and it was as if his brain was melting inside his skullcap.
He bent over himself, putting his hands to his head. Quiznack, it was all bad.
Make it stop... Make it stop!
Mom kept talking, but he couldn't hear her. She shook him to get his attention, but it hurt; it was as if he was dying.
The roars grew louder, piercing his skull, and when he finally raised his head, the face he found in front of him was that of a stranger.
"What the quiznack..."
Another pang of pain, and the last thing he saw was darkness.
He woke up feeling something hot and slimy on his face. He grunted, trying to go back to sleep, but someone shook him like a punching bag.
"This is not the time to laze around. We have to go." Pidge's voice was too high-pitched, too loud, and it was as if someone was sticking a hundred needles into his brain.
He groaned, "Can't you be nicer?"
"They've all been awake longer than you. "Move," the girl ordered, irritated, "We have a schedule, we have no time to waste because of you."
"Yes, wait a minute, I'll get up..."
But Pidge had already drifted away, returning to the most important things to do rather than wake Lance up.
It took the paladin a solid minute to fully wake up. His head was throbbing, and everything around him was blurred; the air in the cavern felt thick and wet, like breathing through a damp towel. He tried to shift his weight, but a sharp, searing pain shot through his joints, as if an amateur had rearranged his very bones. The cave walls dripped with a slow, rhythmic sludge, reflecting the dim, bioluminescent glow of the moss clinging to the jagged ceiling.
They had camped on a planet covered 90% by a rocky surface, finding refuge in one of the caves that dotted the planet. They had all slept very badly. Not that you could complain, considering that there was a risk of being followed by a Galra fleet at any time.
A few dozen yards ahead, the Lions were pacing. The Red and Blue Lions were particularly restless, their metallic hides shimmering with a frantic, erratic energy as they let out low, guttural rumbles that vibrated in the floor. The rest of the crew was already in high gear, tossing gear into bags and checking coordinates. Lance tried to scramble to his feet, but his limbs felt like lead. He reached for his armour, but his fingers were clumsy; he knocked over a crate of rations and tripped over his own boots, his movements jerky and uncoordinated.
"Seriously, Lance, do you have to make a scene just to put on your shoes?" Pidge’s voice drifted back to him, sharp and impatient. She didn’t even look back as she continued checking her wrist-computer. "Some of us are actually trying to work, but I guess useless is just your default setting this morning."
Lance let the insult slide off him, masking the sting with a practised, lazy grin. He didn't have the energy to mount a defence, and besides, pretending to be unfazed was easier than explaining why his equilibrium felt like it had been put through a blender. He leaned against the damp cave wall, his breath coming in shallow hitches, and forced his shaking hands to finally secure the clasps of his armor. He wanted to tell Pidge that some of us actually have a biological clock that requires more than four hours of uninterrupted sleep, but the words felt too heavy to lift into the air.
He finally managed to stand straight, though the world tilted dangerously to the left. As he stepped toward the center of the camp, Keith intercepted him. The other paladin’s expression was a mask of frustration, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. Keith opened his mouth, likely to deliver a lecture on discipline or a sharp comment about how their survival didn't depend on Lance's beauty sleep, but the words died in his throat. He stopped mid-stride, his brow furrowing as his gaze locked onto Lance’s face.
"Lance, are you ready? We should already… What happened?" Keith’s voice dropped, the aggression instantly replaced by a flicker of genuine alarm.
Lance stared at him, confused by the sudden abandonment of any belligerence by the other paladin.
"Nothing happened. Why?"
"It's not... Didn't you notice? Pidge didn't see you?"
His confusion continued, and Keith blurted out, irritated, "You're bleeding. From the nose and... from the ears, it seems."
Instinctively, he put his hand on his face; When he picked it up, he found it stained with blood.
Um, that explained why he felt like crap.
"What did you do?" Keith pressed him, and the voice was a pang for Lance's poor head, "Why do you blame me? I didn't do anything. I woke up like this and... look, I can still pilot Red, don't worry, I'm not going to slow you down or anything like that."
"Do you think you're going to slow us down?" the other repeated, and no matter how hard he tried, Lance couldn't understand what was going through his mind at that moment. He hated it. How was it that Keith had become so impenetrable? Effect of two years on a space whale?
Or was it no longer considered safe to confide in him? Provided that he considered him trustworthy before, since he had left without even telling him anything and... No, there was no need to think about this, not now. As Keith had been keen to point out since he returned, there was no time for this, Lance.
Lance shrugged, and even that simple gesture made him feel pressed under a steamroller. He hoped he hadn't caught some strange alien virus; the last thing he wanted was to end up in quarantine as soon as he set foot on Earth. Certainly not the heroic return he expected.
"Maybe? I don't know, now it seems like everyone likes to blame me for something."
"It's not true, and you know it. "
Lance looked at him sideways, "Are you really sure? It's not like you listen to me yourself."
"I listen to you…" it was a nice thing to say, which made Lance feel all hot and sticky inside for some reason. It was a good feeling. It was just obvious, though, that Keith ruined everything, " ….when you have something useful to say. And lately, you seem to prefer to talk only nonsense."
"How do you know if you don't pay attention to me? Or do you assume that everything that comes out of my mouth is stupid?"
"I didn't say that," Keith retorted, full of frustration, and for a moment his mask seemed to give way, "I'm saying it wouldn't hurt if you took our situation more seriously."
He clenched his jaw, "I'm taking it seriously! I've been doing it from the beginning. Just because I like to make a joke every now and then, doesn't mean I'm not taking this seriously."
"Well, it's hard to believe it when you joke about everything. A little seriousness wouldn't hurt, maybe finally someone will take you seriously..."
Lance's ears were ringing. His eyes stung him, but he squeezed the inside of his cheek, for there was absolutely no way in hell that he would cry. Keith was wrong. He knew it, and it had to be enough for him.
But why wasn't it enough?
He opened his mouth—to say what, he wasn't quite sure, but he didn't want to hear any further—when Pidge's screams caught their attention.
The green paladin was frustrated, "A storm! A fucking storm has been unleashed! We can't leave now!"
"What? Why?"
The paladin looked at him, "Because it's an electrical storm. If we tried to leave the planet now, it would fry all our systems, and we would be as good as dead and... What the hell happened to your face?"
"Nothing, just a little blood," he grimaced, "Maybe I should ask Allura to check on me."
"Yes, it's better," Keith agreed, without saying anything else. Without saying oh yes, I'm sorry I acted like an idiot, you're not so useless.
But the apology didn't come, and Lance felt like a complete idiot just for wanting them.
In the rush to escape from the other paladin, Lance almost bumped into someone, "Ah, I didn't see you..."
"Are you okay?" Shiro asked him, a flash of apprehension that he had always seen directed at Keith and never at him. He didn't lie, it was nice to have his attention, even if there was something Lance couldn't put a finger on, as if he wasn't exactly the reason Shiro had that expression.
Lance narrowed his eyes, "If anything, I should be the one to ask you. You're pretty pale."
Shiro looked like he hadn't been able to sleep a wink, as if he had spent all his time guarding. Which was impossible, since they had taken turns, and Keith would have taken someone's head off if they dared to ask Shiro for such an effort, considering the whole thing of dying and returning to a body that was not his own.
Shiro tried to smile, but it didn't reach his eyes, "I'm not the one who's bleeding. Are you okay?"
"Just a little headache," he replied, although calling it just a little headache didn't give a good idea. He doubted that a simple headache could make your ears bleed. Anyway, still nothing compared to dying, so Lance couldn't complain at all, not to Shiro, "Nothing Allura can't fix with her magical jumbo manjo."
"Mhm…and…you still fill angry or…”
Lance looked at him, confused. Shiro continued, "I saw you arguing with Keith. It seemed pretty bad.”
Oh, so that was it. He had to expect it. Here is the sparkling knight Shiro who came to the rescue of the poor mistreated orphan. Yes, he knew it wasn't fair to Keith, he knew the other had been through a lot. But sometimes he wanted to be mean too. He shrugged, “Nothing to worry. I know, we're teammates and teammates should stick together. The lone wolf dies, the pack survives and... Shiro?"
He wanted to make a joke about lone wolves and Keith. He didn't expect Shiro to make that expression.
Lance saw him swallow, "You... my father used to say that."
Lance raised an eyebrow, and immediately regretted it for the pang of pain he felt. Shiro hardly ever talked about his family, except for Keith, and there was another box of worms that was best left unopened.
"What kind of guy is he?" the Cuban couldn't help but ask, because he knew so little about Shiro, and couldn't help but be curious.
"He believes a lot in doing what one had to do. He believes in duty," Shiro began, slowly, almost hesitantly, "He is a tough person, but he recognises people who put in the effort, and helps when possible. Above all, he believes a lot in teamwork."
"You two seem to have a lot in common."
"I don't know, sometimes I just feel like I'm letting him down," Shiro grimaced as he said, "Not that I can say for sure, it's not that he has ever been very communicative, but those few times we've spoken... Well, he was very demanding."
"He looks a bit like an idiot."
"No, he's just... it's pretty complicated," the other said, shrugging his shoulders, "I've always tried to make him proud, but if to do that I have to become a person I don't respect, then... it's not worth it."
"I'm sorry for your father," Lance said sincerely, "I don't remember much of mine. My older brother, however, has always been there. He took care of me. Marco taught me a lot of things, like, climbing, swimming... Once he took me camping and taught me to recognize the various constellations."
He chuckled at the memory, albeit faded, of Marco trying to fight mosquitoes and flies and trying to explain the history of the Milky Way. He didn't remember that. But he remembered how he had felt, the first time they had seen the sky together at night, how he had felt small, and at peace. It meant that there was much more beyond his life, something to want to go towards, and that he could tend to infinity.
"I think it's thanks to him that he went to the Garrison," he found himself admitting, "He was the one who told me about unknown planets and distant galaxies. It made me want to see what he described to me. To be... I don't know if I can explain myself..."
"That you don't have to worry too much, because there are stars out there and there are millions," Shiro finished for him, a mixed expression between pain and something else. Something that resembled nostalgia.
"Wow, yes. You're really good."
"I... Lance... your brother... What is he like?"
"Marco? Well, to be honest, looking at us no one would say that we look alike, but I have always tried to copy it in everything. He is..." His voice stopped. How strange. He couldn't describe his brother.
Not that Lance suddenly didn't remember it. But it was as if there was a deferred figure in his mind, which he was aware was there, but he couldn't focus. It was like trying to grasp a concept that nevertheless continued to elude him.
"Ah, sorry. I can't get to... I don't know, it's like I'm trying to talk about a ghost or..."
"Lance... there's something we should talk about..."
"Could we do it later? I want Allura to control me. I don't want to end up losing nosebleeds again when we leave."
He didn't mean to be rude to Shiro, really. But his head had begun to throb again, and he felt as if he was on the edge of an abyss. He didn't like the feeling, and everything in him was screaming at him to run away.
Shiro tried to stop him, taking him by the wrist – as his mother had done in the dream – but immediately made a low back. His hand was red.
"Shiro?"
" I'm fine. I should have known better than touching you suddenly..."
Whatever explanation he wanted to give was interrupted by the arrival of Allura, "Pidge says that the storm should end soon, we can leave... oh dear, Lance, what happened to you?"
"Princess! The person I wanted to see! Could you help me with a small problem..."
Lance talked nonsense, because it was easier than thinking about how he really felt, or thinking about why he felt a certain way. Shiro must have preferred him too, since he took the opportunity to walk away, the most conflicted expression Lance had ever seen him.
He really looked like dead man walking, and the image troubled him in ways he couldn't explain.
The storm, despite what Pidge had said, didn’t end immediately. It made them stay on the planet all day, driving the Lions' systems crazy and causing several malfunctions in the green paladin's equipment.
Pidge was furious, and she was a little angry with everyone, as if it was one of their faults that they couldn't leave the planet.
And Lance really tried to be patient, he knew that they were all nervous because of the return home and because they were afraid that the Galra would arrive on Earth first (or, God forbid, that they had already arrived), but he still had a headache, he felt tired, he just wanted to be able to close his eyes for two seconds without someone accusing him of being lazy or being scolded like a child by Keith every time he tried close his eyes.
What, now he was so unreliable that he could not even rest? Should he always be on the alert? As if the Galra could approach the planet in the middle of such a storm. But it didn't seem that logic applied when it concerned him, or the possibility of criticizing him.
No, Keith certainly couldn't help but let him know how inadequate he was to his role, and that he was deeply disappointed. Heck, if Acxa were still with them, Lance was betting he'd find a way to compliment her at his expense.
He didn't doubt that Keith would switch paladin if he could, but the Red Lion didn't want another paladin, and now everyone was unhappy.
Sorry, Keith. You'll have to hold on to the ballast until the end.
“… and damn, Lance, you could pay attention for a damn once in your fucking life..."
Lance looked at Pidge. The girl was altered. You could see that she was just nervous. Getting stuck in a cave wasn't ideal. He understood it.
But it wasn't his fault.
"I'm paying attention," there was something in his voice that even he didn't recognize, something dangerous, "Tell me, Pidge. What can I do? You can't get us out of here either, can you?"
This suddenly restrained the green paladin, "No, but..."
"So," and suddenly, the air smelled of nitrogen, Lance could feel the hair behind the back of his neck stand on end, "Why are you mad at me? We have to wait, and be patient. Try not to take it out on others just because you feel frustrated."
"If you at least had enough brains to understand..." But the green paladin did not continue. He was looking at her, his anger barely held in check by pain and exhaustion. And being tired was strange, because he had done nothing, but given the conditions in which he had slept, his body was rebelling. He saw her step back, and looked at Lance with a torn expression. He realized that Pidge was afraid of him, but she didn't want to be.
"Go on, Pidge," there was no teasing in his voice. He was as cold as steel, as cold as gold..." What did you mean?"
He saw her open her mouth, ready to retort. It should never be said that Pidge was one to back down from a fight. But it seemed that her own body refused to continue, as if it had entered survival mode. Lance would have liked to roll his eyes, if he had had the strength. As if he could really do something to Pidge.
"That's enough," Shiro interjected at the time, also tired of the tension, and with a different kind of nervousness than Pidge, "Pidge, work on your Lion if you need something to do. Lance, you're a rag. Try to sleep."
"We can't afford to..."
"Keith, never mind," Shiro's tone did not allow for replies, "We will not be attacked, not while there is a storm that makes it impossible to get away from the planet. Let him rest."
Keith seemed on the verge of retorting again, but a glance from Shiro was enough for him to bite his tongue. Lance grinned, happy for the victory, and closed his eyes.
The smell of nitrogen disappeared shortly after.
Going to the rooftops of the Garrison was a risk. Not because there was the risk of falling from down and making a very slow or painful death; but if you were caught, you ended up directly in Iverson's office or, worse, you were expelled without any possibility of appeal.
Lance had worked too hard to be expelled in such a stupid way.
But for Piper, oh, the risk was worth it.
"Is a picnic on the roof your idea of romance?" the girl asked him, giggling. She was with her back to him, her head turned towards the sky where the moon shone and you could see the Big Dipper a little further on.
"Make fun of me, but what could be more romantic than dining under the stars?"
"The leftovers from the Garrison’s canteen are not a dinner."
"I also got some flowers," he continued, although the aforementioned flowers were plastic and rather sad to look at, but it was the thought that mattered, right? And then, I brought George Michael!"
There was little a penniless student like him could do to impress a beautiful girl: Lance wanted to give her the world, but he had at most eight dollars and fifty cents.
What he could do though was create the right atmosphere, and George Michael had never disappointed. He pressed boot on the phone, and the notes began to fill the air
I feel so unsure
As I take your hand and lead you to the dance floor
As the music dies, something in your eyes
Calls to mind a silver screen
And all its sad good-byes
"Go, lover boy, show her what you can do," he muttered to himself. His hands were sweaty and slimy, and I hope Piper didn't notice. He wasn't as suave as he wanted to make believe others, but he wasn't usually that awkward either. Piper was the only one able to make him feel that way.
She was amazing.
He approached her and put his arms around her waist. Then, in a move that would have made Sean Connery jealous, he twirled her, while the song continued.
I'm never gonna dance again
Guilty feet have got no rhythm
Though it's easy to pretend
I know you're not a fool
He heard Piper laugh, "You're a fool, Jason. A very great and sweet fool."
He pouted, "Hey, it's not nice to get your boyfriend's name wrong."
"But I didn't make a mistake."
“What?”
I should've known better than to cheat a friend
And waste the chance that I'd been given…
Piper walked away slightly, and Lance looked at her. And he saw Allura's face for a few moments.
"I know who you are," she said, as her face turned into a white mask with only two holes for her eyes and one for her mouth, "When will you remember?"
Lance woke up screaming, his lungs burning and the stench of nitrogen back in his nostrils; he heard Pidge cursing and cursing something in the distance, but it was like finding himself with his head under water.
His heart pounded in his chest, as if he wanted to flee. He swallowed. He took a deep breath. Then another. And another. And yet another.
He continued like this until his breathing regularized, as did his heartbeats.
What the hell had that been?! It was fucking creepy, quiznack! Was it the trauma? Did his brain have to find other ways to make him feel like crap? What kind of twisted way that was...
"Lance?"
He raised his head. Shiro and Keith were staring at him, but if Keith's gaze was illegible, in Shiro's he saw a barely restrained tension, as if he was terrified but had to maintain control if he didn't want a quick escalation.
“Shall we go?” he asked, hating how uncertain his voice sounded, “Is the storm over?”
"There's still time, Pidge is having some problems," Shiro began, and it was clear to Lance that he thought it was his fault. Wow, thank you so much great leader, it's nice to be considered such a problem that you can put a spanner in the works of someone while you were still in the arms of Somnus, "Lance, you have to calm down. Stay..."
"Did you have a nightmare?" Keith's question took him by surprise. It almost seemed as if he was worried.
Lance swallowed, "Ah, something like that... I was on the roof of the Garrison and I was with Piper..."
"Who is Piper?"
The tone the paladin was using did not deign attention, "My girlfriend... I think? I don't know, the details are confusing, but we were dancing on the roof and..."
Keith's irritated snort made the words die in his throat, "Just a dream about a girl. Let's not waste time on this, Shiro. We have to leave."
He hadn't even let him finish. He didn't even know why Lance was so upset. He had dismissed it as nonsense, because it was Lance.
Of course it's nothing serious, it's Lance. They are just dreams, Lance, grow up. God, Lance, no one cares about your girlfriend who you can barely remember. What does it matter? Get moving, nothing happened, I don't care how you are, nobody cares.
Lance knew there were more important things. It shouldn't feel that way. He should not get angry. He should not be selfish.
He couldn't. He was really an idiot, if he was so upset about such a thing. Pidge was right.
"Keith," Shiro's voice sounded distant, as if he wasn't there. She looked at Lance with pure terror, "Go to Pidge and see if you can help her."
Keith looked at him, offended, "I can handle it. It's Lance."
The subtext did not escape him. It's just Lance, of course I can handle him, he's not a problem. I'm not such a mediocre leader that I can't deal with this nonsense.
He felt the hairs on his arms stand on end. The stench of nitrogen grew stronger.
Shiro nervously looked at Lance, then Keith, "I trust you with Pidge. I don't want her to make Hunk cry."
"But..."
"Keith, go to Pidge."
There was no way to dispute Shiro. Keith himself understood this, and grumbling he met his fate. For once, he would have been insulted.
Shiro and Lance stared at each other for a few moments. Lance wasn't sure why Shiro had that expression, nor why he looked at him that way. As if he were a kind of wild wolf that had to approach without biting it.
"Tell me about your nightmare."
Lance blinked, "Do you want me to tell you about my nightmare?"
"Yes, it's clear that it upset you. I want to understand why."
Shiro was good. Even though he didn't care or believe it was a waste of time, he still wanted to listen to Lance.
Watch and learn, Keith.
His lips felt dry, "It's stupid."
"It's not, if you're so upset."
It didn't sound like he meant that, but Lance let it go, "I kind of dreamed of the Garrison and there was this girl, Piper... She was beautiful, I knew she was, and we were together, like, but... She didn't have a face. I didn't remember her face."
Shiro nodded, gravely, but didn't interrupt him, letting him continue, "And it doesn't suck, don't remember the face of your... ex? Sort of? I don't remember her. I dreamed of her only once, I knew who she was, but I didn't... I don't even know if it's a figment of my imagination or not."
He didn't know how to explain it. He knew that this Piper existed, theoretically. But he didn't remember her.
He remembered the Garrison. He remembered the trouble he had gotten into with Hunk. He didn't remember having a classmate he liked enough to risk suspension.
But somehow, he had dreamed of her. So, what did that mean? Was she just a product of his mind? Or was she real and he had forgotten about her?
Was he so untrustworthy that he had a girlfriend on Earth that he never remembered? What kind of person was he? He had abandoned her and had never thought of her! If Piper was real, of course. But he wasn't 100% sure, and wasn't it worse?
"Oh, Lance..."
It wasn't fair for Shiro to use that sorry tone with him. It's not that Lance deserved it. He had had a nightmare and now he behaved like a child, that's all. He covered his face with his hands, "Quiznack, how pathetic huh? Dreaming of a girlfriend that maybe I never had or being a boyfriend so bad that I forget my girlfriend until I dream of her. And she even called me by the wrong name!"
Shiro looked alarmed, "What did she call you?"
"Jason."
Saying that name out loud made him feel mixed feelings, which it was difficult for Lance to recognize them all. It wasn't his name, that was obvious, but why didn't it seem wrong for Piper to call him that? It irritated him, of course. A part of him hated it. But it didn't seem wrong to be called Jason.
Shiro had turned pale, almost looking as if he was the one who had dreamed of a faceless girl dancing with him on the roof.
"This... Lance, it wasn't a dream."
Lance looked at him without understanding, "What do you mean? Is it some strange astral plane stuff? Quiznack, what have I been up to now? Who have I not saved?"
Shiro hastened to say, "No, Lance. It's not your fault. We don't... I know it will be hard to believe me, and I should have told you about it since I came back. I didn't know how to do it without leaving you confused and..."
"Get your hands off there, Keith!"
"Stop screaming!"
"You ruined everything!"
"Me? I didn't even touch that trash!"
"Withdraw what you said!"
Shiro shrugged, defeated, "What did I expect to happen? Of course something had to go wrong, with all this power out of control..."
Lance stared at him, "Uhm... aren't you going to stop Pidge from killing him?"
"They'll be fine. Lance, you have to listen to me carefully. The things that are happening to you..."
"Stop moving!"
"Do you want me to stop breathing, Pidge?!"
"I'm going to fucking kill you!"
"Ah, I want to see you try!"
Shiro closed his eyes. He counted to ten. He probably did it several times, trying not to go to those two to strangle them.
"We'll talk about it later," he promised, but still avoided approaching Lance, as if he were afraid of being bite, "In the meantime, take this time to calm down."
"I'm fine."
The former paladin stared at him, "We both know that's not the truth. And Lance, really... you have to calm down. Do it for me, please."
He put a lot of emphasis on it, almost as if it were a prayer. Lance didn't really understand this, but lately he didn't understand almost anyone on the team, including himself.
He took his time to return to breathing normally, while Shiro had to prevent Pidge from returning the Black Lion without a pilot.
The tension decreased, and no electronic objects ended up roasted again. Pidge saw this as a sign that Keith shouldn't touch his stuff.
But Shiro, he kept looking at Lance, and he knew.
Father, how could I say him the truth? It will destroy him.