#Shiro holding adams hand

[x-soapbox-x]

Craigslist missed connections moment. Happy Mardi Gras!!!!

[justaz]

i just walked into this restaurant and saw my partner on a date with someone else and i’m petty so i grabbed you to pretend to be my date to get revenge. just go along with it.

[random-apollo-child]

Pre kerbros

Adam: BABEEE

Shiro: WHAT

Adam: WHAT DO YOU WANT FOR DINNER

Shiro: WHAAATT

Adan: I SAID WHAT DO YOU WANT FOR DINNER

Keith: why don't you go up and ask him

Adam: because this is fun

Shiro: SUSHI

Adam: ALRIGHT plus he gets pissy after and it's cute

Keith: bleh

Adam: when you meet the right person you'll understand

Post-everything

Keith holding lances hand: adam you were right

Adam: on what

Keith: seeing your boyfriend mad can ve absolutely adorable

Lance and shiro: HUH?

Adam: told you so

[autisticlancemcclain]

“Keith, I need a favour.”

Keith stops in his tracks. Slowly, he sets down the helmets he’s holding, freeing his hands, then holds the phone out in front of him. He ponders it carefully.

“I could throw you into the sea,” he says to it. He does some quick calculations. If he drives to the nearest seafront now, he will be approximately twenty-three hours late to his date with Lance by the time he gets back. However, if he skips the fanfare and drops his phone into the disgusting oil-filled puddle right next to him, he can proceed to his date on schedule.

“Decisions, decisions,” he muses. Fanfare is important. Dropping his phone into a puddle is whatever. It’s derivative. But dropping his phone into the North Atlantic…now that is revolutionary.

“Fucksake. Keith,” sighs the voice coming from the phone. “If you don’t answer me, I am going to change the Netflix password.”

Keith frowns. “Hey.”

“Thank you,” says Shiro emphatically, “you brat.”

“Netflix is sacred,” Keith protests. “You can’t joke about the Netflix. I am a delicate orphan, Shiro. What will happen to me if my primary care figure breaks his promises? I’ll regress and act out and end up in prison. Do you want me to end up in prison?”

“A little, honestly.”

“Gasp, Shiro. Gasp. How dare.”

“I think you should consider a degree in the dramatic arts.”

“I think you should eat my farts.” Keith snickers. “Hey, that rhymed.”

Shiro sighs, long and loud, and Keith can practically see the smile twitching on his face. “Where did I go wrong. Truly. To think I tried to raise an upstanding young man, respectful to his elders, happy to help when needed. Shame that you’re a gremlin and a changeling.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “Blah blah. Get to begging for my help. I have places to be, old man. A new jacket Adam bought me to wear in front of pretty people. Well, one pretty person. Anyways.”

“God, you’re whipped,” Shiro says, and Keith ignores that because if he doesn’t he’ll combust. “You and Lance going out?”

Keith tucks his phone between his ear and his shoulder, picking the helmets back up and continuing his walk to his bike. “Yep.”

“Where’re you going?”

“Dinner at Caribella. It’s an excuse for a ride, really. Maybe walk around downtown for a bit.”

“Sounds fun. How much more fun would it be with your little sister, huh?”

Keith stops for the second time. He can see Red maybe fifty metres away. He looks at her mournfully.

“So close,” he despairs quietly, then turns back to his phone. “Not super fun, Shiro. Since she’s, you know. A year old. And a date is something you traditionally do with your boyfriend. Alone.”

Shiro makes a weirdly strangled noise halfway between a laugh and a stressed croak. “Well! The thing is.”

Keith waits. No thing is listed.

“Shiro.”

“It’s no big deal! Really.”

“Oh? I guess I’ll just hang up, then —”

“It’s just that Adam and I are at his sister’s, right, and —”

“There we go.”

“And we have a sitter. Obviously. All is well. Except, you know. The storm forecast. And everything.”

“And you’re four hours away with a car that you haven’t put snow tires on yet,” Keith surmises. He looks forlornly at his bike, sitting all pretty in her parking spot, freshly polished red paint gleaming under the fluorescent lights of the parking garage. So, so close. “You dumbass.”

“The forecast was clear this morning!”

“You’re a dad! You’re supposed to know these things!”

“Well!”

“Can’t the sitter just — stay? Overnight, or something?”

He feels bad. Any other day, he’d be happy to have Hana over, or go stay over there. He does it all the time. Hana is the coolest. He has no idea how she’s the daughter of the two biggest goobers he knows. Hell, he’s already got plans to watch her this Thursday, so Adam and Shiro can go to their old person museum date thing.

But he has plans tonight.

Fuck.

“She’s sixteen, Keith,” Shiro explains, sighing. Keith envisions his brother slumped against a wall somewhere, rubbing over the scar on his nose. “She’s too young for that. She’s Adam’s friend’s daughter, and she’s a sweetheart, but she’s got school. She can’t be responsible for a baby overnight.”

“No, I — I figured.” He drags his free hand down his face. “You need me to go over there?”

“Yeah. Mara – the sitter – can’t drive yet. Her parents are coming to get her in an hour.”

Shiro’s voice is quiet, subdued. He sounds guilty. Keith hates when Shiro is guilty. He covers his hand over the phone so Shiro can’t hear, screams a little, breathes deeply, then forces a smile wide enough that it will bleed into his voice. Hopefully.

“It’s fine, Shiro. Seriously. Lance and I’ll reschedule, Hana and I will make sure to fuck up your Netflix profile. All is well.”

“Thank you, Keith. I owe you.”

It is a dire thing when Shiro doesn’t complain about Keith messing up his Netflix profile. Once, three years ago, Keith forgot to switch the TV in their living room and watched some Hallmark movie as he sketched, just to make noise in the background. Shiro made snide comments about his taste for three months, because he’s a pretentious indie loser who watches shit like Empire unironically.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll start a tab.”

That, thankfully, makes Shiro snort. “Brat.” He brightens. Keith can almost hear the ding of a lightbulb going off in his head. “Hey, I know it’s dorky, but maybe you and Lance can still go on your date! Me and Adam used to when you were little, in the old apartment.”

Keith furrows his brows. “What, like when you marathoned Lord of the Rings on the shitty futon and ordered the greasiest pizza known to man? That’s not a date.”

“Is so! We enjoyed it, you had pizza so you weren’t having a tantrum, what else could we need?”

“You guys have been weird old people your whole entire life. Did you know that?”

“Only because you aged me. You pain. Anyways. Go pick up my daughter, or you can stay at our place. Minivan keys are where they always are. I gotta go. Love you, kiddo.”

“Ugh. Love you too.” He hangs up, blowing a raspberry at the phone. “Minivan keys are where they always are, he says. What a soccer mom.”

He stares, hands on his hips, at his bike.

What to do, what to do.

He really doesn’t want to cancel on Lance. It’s been a couple days since they’ve seen each other, because Lance’s job hates him. Plus, Hana isn’t very fussy. It’s kind of dweeby and embarrassing, but. Well. Lance likes kids. So it could be fine, honestly.

“Hana first,” Keith decides, nodding to himself. He lifts the seat compartment under the bike and shoves the extra blue helmet in, strapping on his own and starting Red up. To bring Lance to Shiro’s for an embarrassing old person date, or to cancel. That is the question.

Eh. He’ll decide on the ride.

— — —

He does not decide on the ride.

“What do you think,” he asks his sister, lips pursed. She gurgles happily at him from her high chair, shaking her soggy-Cheerio-covered fist at him. “I mean, you go to bed in a couple hours. So it’s not like it’s pure babysitting.”

“Abdalalala,” she says, which Keith translates to mean actually, now that I know you want me to sleep, I will spend tonight completely resistant to sleep, as karma. Enjoy.

“That’s rude,” he informs her.

You’re batshit, says the Pidge that lives in his brain. Also, quit procrastinating.

“Ugh,” he says, out loud. He pulls out his phone and hesitates over Lance’s contact.

to: lance <3

hey you like kids right

from: lance <3

oh my god

from: lance <3

keith, are you…

from: lance <3

pregnant??????

Keith laughs.

to: lance <3

you are not funny

from: lance <3

i’m hilarious actually it’s a tragedy

from: lance <3

i carry the burden of knowing i am solely responsible for my friends’ good humour

from: lance <3

heavy is the head that wears the crown. pensive face emoji solidarity fist emoji broken heart emoji

Keith refuses to dignify that with an answer. Also, he has been informed by Lance’s best friend that if he ignores the emoji bit it will go away eventually. So far it’s been going strong for three months, though, so Keith’s not certain. He can only hope Hunk is correct.

from: lance <3

anyways yah i like kids why

to: lance <3

how much cooler and charming would i be if i picked you up in a minivan. with my sister

from: lance <3

aw, keith!

from: lance <3

to be coolER and MORE charming you have to be cool and charming to begin with :)

from: lance <3

and you are a dweeb 💖

from: lance <3

sounds good tho

from: lance <3

Bring Forth The Child

from: lance <3

oh also bring forth burritos on ur way over

from: lance <3

i’m hungry

Hana yells and bangs on her tray. When Keith looks up, she lobs a Cheerio at him. It hits him squarely between the eyes.

“You’re right,” he says sagely, peeling it off and flicking it back at her. She shrieks in joy. “I cannot let this shit slide. I cannot simply allow myself to be roasted, Hana. I must have self respect.”

She blows a raspberry at him and bangs harder on her tray. Baby conversations are, honestly, riveting.

“Exactly, squirt. You get it. Let’s get cleaned up and go, hm?”

— — —

He picks up burritos on the drive.

Hana laughs at him.

— — —

He’s hardly pulled up in front of Lance’s apartment building when a blur streaks across the front walkway, yanking open the van’s side door.

“Oh, hell-o, precious darling!” gasps Keith’s boyfriend, tumbling into the backseat and slamming my the door shut behind him. “Hi, Hana! Hi hi hi! Aren’t you the bestest ever? You are!”

Hana, evidently pleased with the attention, babbles something incomprehensible and pats Lance’s cheek. He melts, babbling something so quickly it’s equally incomprehensible and shaking her hand. Keith watches, torn between endeared and affronted.

“Hello, boyfriend I have not seen in days,” he deadpans. “Yes, I missed you also. No, I don’t mind at all that you leave me to wither away, alone, in the front seat. Excellent chat.”

“You have a very very grumpy brother, don’t you, Hana,” Lance coos. His shoulders shake with held back laughter.

“Lance, get your ass in the front.”

“But I’m meeting the baby!”

“She is not going anywhere! Meet her at home! You turd!”

“Name-calling is not very nice,” retorts Lance primly, crawling over the console and finally settling in the passenger seat. “What kind of example are you setting, huh?”

He leans over the armrest once he’s buckled in and kisses Keith gently, cradling his hand against his jaw and tilting their heads together. He smells, as he always does, of flowers and sunshine, and Keith sighs as he sinks into the softness of him, the curve of his smile and nip of his teeth.

“Hi,” Keith murmurs, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, his chin, and then squarely on the mouth again.

“Hi,” Lance responds, a little breathless, grinning widely. His hair is damp and curling at the edges. He’s left out his contacts for the night and the gold lenses match the gold flecks in his brown eyes. Everything he’s wearing is stolen right from Keith’s closet, except his socks, which are bright purple and covered in obnoxiously orange weiner dogs. Keith is so in love with him that the intensity of it embarrasses him, and he pulls away, face red, very interested suddenly in adjusting is rearview mirror.

Lance, knowing, only smiles.

“These are for you,” he says gruffly, shoving the paper takeout bag at Lance’s chest. Lance wastes no time digging through and shoving half of one in his face.

“Aw, baby,” he says, mouth completely full. “You’re literally the best. Sweet, attentive, manipulable, obsessed with me. Everything I intended when I did the love spell on you.”

Keith eyes Lance from his peripherals. He’s digging through his patched backpack, face completely serene. Keith is reminded of the actual sigil he has tattooed on his ankle. (He’s very familiar with it. It’s often right at eye level. Hard to miss, really.)

“…You’re a strange, strange man.”

“Anyways!” Lance continues, visibly gleeful. Keith reminds himself to focus on the goddamn road and remember his sister is watching with her giant wide eyes in the backseat, probably committing all his embarrassing actions to memory to report to Adam the second she is capable of speech. “I brought lots of movies. Mostly Jurassic Park, but also some educational stuff for the baby. Ghostbusters, High School Musical, you know. All that good stuff. And I stashed popcorn behind your microwave last time I slept over so we’re set for snacks.”

“Oh, we’re going to my brother’s place, actually, ‘cause Hana’s more comf— wait, behind the microwave? Why behind?”

“Wait, wait, hold on. We’re not going to your place?”

“No,” Keith says carefully. “I have some baby stuff in my apartment, but not a lot. Plus, Shiro has a better T.V. and also Adam just bought Moose Tracks. So.” He slows to a stop at a red light, noting Lance’s odd expression. “That okay?”

Lance screws up his face for a second, thinking. “I’m pretty sure? As long as there’s an extra toothbrush there. I have one at your place so I didn’t bother bringing one. And I guess I can survive a night without my face serum, but if I get one single wrinkle we’re beefing.”

“You’re not gonna get a stupid wrinkle,” Keith grouches. “And why would you get pissy if you get a wrinkle? We’re gonna get them eventually, and you —”

“‘We’?” Lance teases. “You gonna grow old with me? Gonna marry me someday, Kogane?”

“—can even use Shiro’s face stuff, anyway, I’m sure it’s the same.” Keith clears his throat. “And plus —”

His voice cracks horribly. Lance makes a valiant effort to keep his giggles to himself, but as Keith face continues to get hotter and hotter he loses control and laughs, head thrown back, adam’s apple bobbing with every hitched breath. His laughter sets Hana off, too, both of them encouraging each other’s ridiculousness until they’re as red as Keith is, gasping for breath.

“I hate it here,” Keith mutters darkly. “I’m turning around and bringing you back. You’re the worst. Why do I go out with you.”

Lance, barely recovered, makes kissy faces at him. “Because you want to maaaarrryyyyy meeeee, you think I’m seeeeexxxyyyyy, you want to kiiiiisssss meeeee —”

He cuffs Lance in the back of his head, pretending to check his blindspot and ignoring Lance’s cries of spousal abuse. “I actually just want you to watch Miss Congeniality twelve percent less often. For your own mental health.”

“Lies and slander! Peddling of falsehoods! Perjury and defamation!”

“I’m burning your thesaurus.”

“And now threats! Hana, you shall be my witness! I will testify against you in court! You will be jailed! I will visit you twice monthly!”

“That’s the second person today who wants me in jail,” Keith comments, pulling into Shiro’s driveway. “You’d visit me even if you put me in there?”

“Well, duh. Have to make sure you don’t go around kissing cute criminal boys or I will become a cute criminal boy.”

“Right, of course. I should have known.”

“You should have, yes.” Lance leans over and kisses him on the forehead with an exaggerated ‘mwah’ noise. “But it’s okay, I like ‘em a little dumb.”

“Help me get the diaper bag, goober,” Keith snorts, shoving him away. “I want to get inside so I can have a burrito before you eat them all.”

———

Lance was not kidding about High School Musical.

Obviously.

“Do you want her to grow up with no understanding of community, Keith,” he scolds, and pays no mind when Keith replies, “Well, she has a family, dude, so I’m not worried.”

They watch the stupid musical.

Keith is horribly endeared by Lance’s extensive knowledge of the choreography. Lance is horribly appalled at Keith’s ignorance. Hana is intrigued, mind body and soul, by every scene with Sharpay Evans. Keith assumes this will be a problem for Adam in the near future, and resolves to make that problem worse.

All this to say he’s having a very embarrassing night, in terms of mushy thoughts and feelings.

“I can’t wait to have kids of my own someday,” Lance sighs, a very sleepy Hana tucked into the crook of his arm. He watches her, soft, and Keith pauses with a DVD held loose in his hand, enraptured, because there’s a curve to Lance’s smile that he’s never seen before, and suddenly his left hand looks bare. “I know it’s supposed to be stressful and everything, but I used to force Hunk to play house with me when we were kids. Literally every day. And when my neice and nephew were born I hogged them all the time, even when they were screaming. I dunno. Being a parent sounds awesome. You get to…like…grow a person. It’s like growing a plant but a bajillion times better, probably.”

“Yeah,” says Keith, softly, and without meaning to he’s thinking of Shiro’s tired smile and the gentle hand Adam lays on the back of his neck, of their door that was always open for Keith’s nightmares, of Shiro’s clothes ruffling as he slid to the floor and sat for hours as Keith screamed himself hoarse and cried for a mother who left. Of Adam’s boiling pots and gentle hands as he guided Keith around a chopping knife. Of both Shiro’s choked-off sobs and Adam’s right embrace as Keith came back, thirteen, in the middle of the night, scared and no longer angry, and their quiet I’m so glad you’re safe. Thank you for coming back. “Yeah, family is important.”

Lance hums. He’s quiet long enough that Keith looks up, realising for the first time his gaze has been locked, unseeing, on the pictures on the wall, of Shiro and Adam and the two of them together and with Keith and with Hana and with Keith and Hana. Lance is watching him, quiet, dark eyes knowing, Hana finally asleep in his arms, beautiful and strong and everything Keith has ever wanted, suddenly, at once.

“I love you,” he blurts.

Lance smiles. “I’ve noticed.”

“Oh, you dickhead.”

“I’m saying it back!” Lance says, snickering, free hand held up in surrender. Keith walks over and slots their fingers together, squeezing slightly, leaning in and holding, a second, a hair’s breadth away from Lance’s mouth, watching his lips part, feeling the heat of his breath. His words are breathless, near silent, mouthed as much as spoken. “You changed my life, you know. I made you chase me because I thought it was funny, but — I made Hunk get me your number from Pidge the night I left the bar. I was going to text you if your brother’s tweet didn’t go viral and cement your dorkiness for eternity.”

“That’s a lotta words to say ‘I love you’, dorkbrain.”

“I know. You make me nervous.”

“You never get nervous.”

“I do with you.”

“Yeah?”

They’re so close now that their lips brush with every word, and Lance is grinning, eyes crinkled and lashes fluttering against Keith’s cheeks, and Keith has a hand careful on Hana’s head so he doesn’t crush her and is smiling just as wide. Cheesy, dorky, corny, and everything Keith wished for after every romance novel he’d steal, fooling no one, from Adam’s shelf and read long after bedtime.

“Yeah. ‘Cause I love you. Even though you’re a dweebus and a simp.”

He is, really, because he lets Lance get away with that, kissing him to shut him up, to feel his laughter right up close. It’s sparks flying and warmth spreading and heart slowing, and in the gentle darkness of the night.

It’s the promise of more to come.

[klanced]

[12yo keith is standing in a walmart parking lot holding a rainbow colored balloon and other miscellaneous items]

shiro: wha- is that keith? what is he doing?

adam, deathly serious: takashi he worked super hard on this. so please just play along

shiro: what is ‘this’ supposed to be?

adam: (shhh! he’s coming over here!)

[keith nervously approaches shiro and adam]

keith: ummm... hi shiro

shiro: hi keith :)

keith: happy gay month cuz you know. you’re gay and stuff.

shiro: .. okay. thank you?

[keith hands over the balloon]

keith: i got you this gay balloon cause it’s got all the colors of the rainbow. because it’s gay 

shiro: okay-

[keith starts handing over the other things in his hands]

keith: and i got you skittles because they also have a rainbow on them-

shiro: okay-

keith: and i got you this cookie cake, it says, um

keith: [mumble singing] ‘beee who you areee with yourrr.. priiiide’

shiro: this is for-- pride month-- why did you do this, why are you doing this?

adam: (BE. NICE.)

keith: .. because you’re gay!

shiro: .. okay.

shiro: wow, thank you keith, this is really nice! i’m sorry i didn’t get you anything :(

keith: why would you get me something for pride month?

shiro:

adam:

keith: ?

shiro: keith, this is so thoughtful, thank you! :)

keith: :D

[kkochang]

Do you also just think about klance and how domestic they could've been if DreamWorks weren't cowards?

Like, it's canon that Keith is an early riser and Lance likes to sleep in late. So, I'm imagining Keith trying to get up for training and stuff, but he finds himself pinned down by his boyfriend, leg over his hips and arm resting on top of his torso (I like to think that Lance has a habit of keeping his palm on Keith's chest, where he can feel his heartbeat). So, Keith finds himself in a heated argument between wanting to get out of bed and not wanting to wake Lance up.

He sighs heavily, having been over this more than once, and tries to slid out of his boyfriend's embrace carefully. But, of course, he fails (because Lance is a clingy bastard) and the half-embrace only grows tighter, a sleepy 'don't' leaving Lance's lips.

Keith's gives up for now, sparing some time for his dear lover, scattering messy kisses all over his face and playing with his soft bed hair with one hand, while the other one rubs mindless circles on Lance's tanned skin. It's lazy and cozy but then Lance finally rolls to his other side because Keith runs hot, which gives the latter the perfect possibility to start his day (of course, only after giving Lance one last kiss on the temple).

*

Since Lance has lots of siblings and stuff, he had to learn how to cook from an early age, tho with all that world saving and now forming a steady ground for peace he doesn't have much time left for that. So, whenever he has time (and energy) he cooks some delicious meal, taking the kitchen all to himself (music blowing and his singing+dancing combo in its full glory). Keith does offer his help, but the most he's trusted with are vegetables cutting and mixing the ingredients.

But most of the time he just likes to hug Lance from behind during those rare moments as he stands relatively still or annoying him, teasing and messing around at 'his' kitchen. Keith also knows how to cook but it's something easy and quick.

*

Imagine Lance catching a flu and Keith is freaking out, because he has no idea what to do. He never takes care of himself nor did any of his foster families offered him enough love and care. So, he remembers all what Shiro and Adam did when he was sick as a teenager and does the same for Lance. He cooks a chicken soup (bland and the chicken is a little rubbery, but, hey, it's the thought that counts after all), brings him warm tea with lemon and honey, never leaves his side and makes sure he has every needed medicine or whatever his poor boyfriend wants.

At first, Lance is perplexed by this side of Keith, the one he rarely lets slip out to the surface. But he soon finds himself completely pampered in love and care, trying to cover his flustration by teasing Keith for being a mother hen. But deep down he's endlessly grateful.

*

Both of them suffer from nightmares, so they learned all the best ways of how to calm each other down, how to show support and what lines aren't supposed to be crossed.

They both require physical contact, for Lance it's a tight hug, whilst for Keith it's hand holding or a gentle hand in his hair because he hates feeling trapped in his panicked state the most. For the most part of the night afterwards, none of them gets to sleep, so sometimes they watch a show or just hold each other close as if giving silent promise to protect one another no matter what.

[wickedwitchofthesouth]

Keith can play the electric guitar, and shiro can play the drums, and Adam was an exceptional vocalist. Before everything went to shit shiro and Keith used to joke about how they would form a family band if the whole space thing didn't work out.

When shiro left, Adam encouraged Keith to keep playing as a hobby. When shiro went missing, Keiths passion for it staggered, but he continued playing because he wanted to show shiro how much better he'd gotten when he would come back- because shiro was going to come back. He had too

When Adam passed away, Keith gave up entirely. Maybe it was out of spite. Maybe he didn't see any point in practising anymore. Maybe the memory of better days was just too painful to revisit. Keith couldn't give you a reason. He'd really given up on all his hobbies and interests. Anything that wasn't directly needed to help him find shiro wasn't worth the effort.

He knew shiro would hate that. But shiro was the one who left. So did he really have any say in how Keith chose to ruin his nights finding him? Keith didn't think he did.

But its years later now and theyve all found their way back to earth, ready for one last mission before the end of the line comes into sight. Keith walks into his room for the first time in years to find shiro already sitting on his bed.

Hands cradling the dust covered guitar. The strings were britle from years of sitting in a corner and its once pristine glossy red finish had been replaced by the dulling of sun damage.

If the instrument could speak, it would curse him to the ends of the earth for abandoning it the same way he was abandoned - and Keith would let it.

Still, shiro smiles at him, handing over the guitar to his brother. "You still play?" He asks as if he doesn't already know the answer.

Keith feels like he's a kid again. He doesn't want to disappoint but he doesn't want to lie either. "Not really"

Shiro gets up to uncover all the old equipment from under the sheets. Keith can see the dust partials flying in the sunbeam that's shining through the blinds. He watches shrio plug everything in, the lights on the tuner take a while to flicker on but they get their eventually.

Keith remembered how he'd kept shiros drumsticks even though Adam had thrown out his drum set one night in a fit or rage. He'd cried all night after that, Keith remembered trying to comfort him to no avail. Little hands trying to wipe away the endless pools of tears that streamed down Adams face. He doesn't like thinking about it.

He walks over to his bedside drawer. It takes a bit of strength to wriggle the old thing open, but when he does, he's pleased to see they're still there. Shiros favourite pair of purple drumsticks. Adams favourite colour. Keith remembered, and he knows shiro can't forget.

"Aha!" Shrio cheers, and Keith is pulled back into the present. When he turns around, he finds shiro standing over the equipment. Overly satisfied with himself for still remembering how to set it up. "Still got it," he says, brushing his shoulder. Keith can't help but chuckle.

Keith holds up the drumsticks and he loves the way shiros face lights up ."Oh my god! you kept them?!" He cheers.

"Theyre all I could manage to hide from adam" Keith replies as shiro takes them out of his hand. He did not mean for it to sound as miserable as it came out.

Shrio smiles ever so softly as he turns them over in his hands. "It's okay," he says. Keith knows exactly what he's thinking about. it's an odd feeling to be able to know someone this well.

Shiro takes in a sharp breath before looking back up at keith. That excited spark finds its way back into his eyes as he pushes the guitar into Keith's chest. "Your turn." he smirks, patting him on the shoulder. "Show me what you've got"

Keith stands there for a moment like a deer in headlights. It's been years since he's even held the guitar in his hands. He's not sure if he's "got" anything left.

"Shiro I don't-"

"Oh come on!! I'm sure you've still got it just give it a try"

It's an even worse feeling being known this well. Keith doesn't know what to do with it.

He carefully slings the strap over his head. He's sure the dust will leave a mark on his jacket.

"Okay, but don't laugh if I suck." he points his pick at shiro, who holds up a finger to his lips in response, but Keith can already see the laugh creeping up on his face

Keith readjusts the guitar to try and get a better grip. Something doesn't feel right. He fiddles around with it a little longer. He holds up the pick and strums a few chords, but they don't sound right. He tries to tune them, strums the chords again, readjust the strap again-

"You need to try Keith," shiro finally says. "You won't know if you can play if you don't even try"

Keith looks back at his brother. It's been nearly a decade since he last heard shiro say that. He prays to any higher power that will listen to not let his eyes give away how those words make him feel now. He doesn't think anyone is listening.

Keith takes in the deepest breath before holding the guitar again. He tries to smile. "Okay, any requests?"

Shrio taps his chin in thought, "How about Bowie?" He recommends "life on Mars? Or maybe rebel rebel? You used to love those songs"

"I might remember rebel rebel," he says mostly to himself. He strums a few chords trying to remember the riff of the songs. It takes a few attempts, but he gets it eventually.

Keith hums the lyrics he doesn't remember and the ones he does he attempts to sing

Rebel rebel, you've torn your dress

Rebel rebel, your face is a mess

Shiro joins in the chours. Well- he certainly makes an attempt

Rebel rebel, how could they know?

Hot tramp! I love you so!

Somewhere between the awful singing and questionable guitar playing, keith finds himself lost in the music. His head rocks back and forth, and he's sure his hair is a mess but he feels like he's floating. He feels like he's 14 again. He feels like they're back in shiros garage on a hot summer day and the sound of drumsticks beating on his desk turns into drums actually being played, and Adams is about to walk through the door any moment now and grab the mic.

When the song finally ends, keith finds himself laughing in excitement. When he opens his eyes again, the drums have turned back into a desk, and the mic is nowhere to be found, but Keith is still smiling. He's got it.

He's still got it

"See" Shrio cheers, pulling Keith out of his head the for second time that afternoon "I told you"

"That was awesome," Keith says, pushing his hair out of his face as he pulls the guitar off. He wants to hug it and tell it he's sorry for leaving. Shiro will think he's lost his mind, but it's totally worth it.

When he looks back at shiro, he's giving him the fondest smile. Keith suddenly feels a knot forming his stomach, he's only seen shiro make that face twice his whole life. Once when Keith got his fighter pilot rank at the garrison and second when he was selected for the kerberos mission.

He opens his mouth as if to say something but closes it again and suddenly slings his arm around Keith's neck, pulling him down to ruffle his hair even further. Keith tries to protest, but every word just comes out as a laugh. "Look at you," shrio says amidst their play fight. "When did you get this cool, huh?"

Keith finally manages to pull away, stumbling a little before finding his balance again. "I've always been this cool," he retorts, trying to card his fingers through his hair. "You just refused to notice it before"

"Nope no I'm pretty sure this is a recent development" shiro mocks,

Keith rolls his eyes but the smile his still apparent on his lips "whatever" he says, crossing his arms over his chest

He's thrown slightly off balance again when shiro throws his arm around his shoulders. But this time, he only gently pulls him into a side hug as they walk out of the room. "Well, at least we still know one thing for sure"

"And whats that" Keith asks walking in tow

Shiro shrugs, one hand around his brother the other in his pocket "if this space thing doesn't work out, we've still got the band" he winks

Keith shakes his head laughing "and are we taking audtions for a new vocalist?"

"No need to, I've already got someone in mind" shiro replies "have you heard lance sing?"

"Lance can sing???"

"Oh that boy was built for a stage"

[the-feral-gremlin]

Shiro headcanons because I can

Polyamorous demisexual gay man. You can not change my mind.

Hitchhikers Guide to the galaxy is his favorite book.

Claustrophobic before Kerberos, the galra arena just made it worse. He literally WILL NOT go into a healing pod unless he’s already unconscious and the paladins have no other choice, if that happens, Keith will usually stand guard and watch him.

Due to him spending so much time in the hospital as a kid, he Does NOT like needles. The first time he had to get one at the garrison, he fainted and Adam’s hand turned purple for a second due to how hard Shiro was squeezing it. (Self projection.)

Knows how to cook. Just doesn’t do well with cooking without instructions.

The only reason he didn’t have glasses the entire series was because he forgot to pack them.

Learned sign language for Keith (who learned from a deaf foster family) after he told Shiro that he sometimes went days without/being able to talk (selective mutism.)

Holds a lot of guilt about the stuff with the clone.

[takashi-tuesday]

takashi tuesday #9

Shiro tipped his head back, the back of the toilet digging into his back uncomfortably. The cold ceramic felt nice on his sweltering skin. 

He was suddenly reminded of the melting otter-pop in his hand when he heard a garbled noise from the shower. “Pass me another.” Came from Keith who was sprawled out in the empty tub. 

With a groan, he shifted to reach into the sink where the pack of melting pops were. Somehow, sitting on his toilet seat lid, shirtless, while his brother melted in the tub, wasn’t the strangest thing that’s happened all week.

He tossed one into the tub, the smack let him know it probably hit skin. Keith’s half-hearted groan of annoyance only confirmed it. 

The increasingly frantic crinkling of plastic caught his attention until a sound of frustration echoed from the tub. He let himself sigh. “Where is Adam?” He murmured, staring at the ceiling of the bathroom.

“Car probably melted.” Keith joked but it fell flat, it was a possibility. Heat in Arizona was nothing to sneeze at. Adam had taken one for the team and went to buy some fans for their rooms. “That’s not funny, Keith.” 

There was a quiet thud against the tub, something purple flickering in the corner of his vision. That would be the strangest thing that’s happened all week. Keith had stumbled into his room, in the middle of the night. His voice had been shaking so bad, Shiro was worried he might’ve cut a limb off.

He tilted his head to the side, considering. That might have been better than the fever dream that was Keith holding something in his hands while it squirmed and wiggled. A tail. Keith had sprouted a tail overnight. It still hurt to think about, he wasn’t sure how it was possible but it was attached, and very real. That was 4 days ago and Keith seemed to have moved on fairly quickly. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if it were him but he guessed he’d have a similar reaction. They did some research and nothing came close to whatever he had going on, so all they could do is leave it alone. 

He finished off another otter pop. It’s not like they could take him to a doctor, they’d probably experiment on him and Shiro wasn’t taking his chances. 

It seemed like Keith wasn’t human or something, but that wouldn’t make sense, it was just impossible. He dropped the wrapper in the trash, leaning forward to finally get up. His thighs stuck uncomfortably to the toilet seat.

Then again, Shiro never believed in the supernatural, not at all. But he’d be lying if he said this didn’t spark some questions, what if–

Keith shot straight up, startling him. “Wh–” “Adam is back.” Was all he said before he was throwing the bathroom door open and going to meet Adam at the door, who wasn’t even parked yet. He has no clue how he knew he was here, he sure as hell didn’t hear him.

That was another thing, his senses were almost.. getting better? Keith claimed he could hear him mouth-breathing through the walls at night.

He rubbed his face, his brain felt like it was frying. He wasn’t sure if it was the phenomenon he was dealing with or the cruel heat.

He made his way into the living room where Adam was inside, crouching by the tv, plugging in one of the fans. Once it roared to life, an audible sigh of relief came from Adam, he dropped down in front of it and Keith sprawled out right next to him. 

Shiro couldn’t help but glance at the tail every once in a while, it was so strange and every time he tried to think about it, his head started throbbing all over again. 

He groaned out loud and Adam gave him a worried look. “Come cool off, I can see the smoke coming out of your ears.” The man snorted, Shiro felt inclined to agree, his brain probably was cooking.

It was entirely too hot for this.

-- Hey! Sorry for missing last week, a lot happened. The ao3 curse has some for me I fear. I am also sick! So hopefully I can recover and get back to the series by next week. So please enjoy this little oneshot filler for now. The Moon's Furthest Point & The Broganes + Adashi Camp series will be coming back, worry not! Until next week, happy Takashi Tuesday.

[thespacenico]

not too far (you're my favorite place)

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ klance, 1.1k words

Keith has never been particularly fond of flying.

It’s not that he’s scared—not of the flying itself, at least. Planes just have a tendency to make him claustrophobic, no matter what he tries to make himself more comfortable. Too many people and too little space, too few snacks and way too much noise. There’s no such thing as a good seat on an airplane, and even if there were, there’s no guarantee that there won’t be a fussy baby in the row directly behind.

He’s just very protective of his personal space, something that airlines basically trick people into purchasing in the form of first class tickets, something which a broke college student like Keith can’t afford. If he had his way, he’d rather drive to his destination alone in a quiet, air-conditioned car, even if it added hours and hours and hours to his travel time. 

Unfortunately, driving across the Atlantic Ocean isn’t really an option. Keith was just lucky enough to be able to book a direct flight from France to the U.S. so he wouldn’t have to worry about getting lost in a foreign country while trying to catch a connecting flight. The downside is that he’s trapped in a cabin full of strangers for upwards of 10 hours. He has survived on nothing but room temperature water and chips from the airport vending machine.

He’s been in Paris for the last two weeks studying painting techniques for an art internship. Pretty much every art student’s dream, including his. He could have spent days in The Louvre if they’d let him. It feels like only yesterday that he was complaining about how far away the trip was, and now the entire summer has flown by in the blink of an eye. 

But as much as he loved his time in France, he’s anxious to get home. Two weeks is a long time. He misses Kosmo, and his bed, and struggling to decide between multiple different sugary sweet iced coffees with an abundance of whipped cream at the coffee shop on campus. The pastries he had from the bakery near his hotel were amazing, but still nothing beats Adam’s banana bread. He misses his friends, and Shiro, and pretending to be annoyed when he comes into his room just to say hi.

When the plane finally touches down and Keith switches his phone off airplane mode, the screen almost immediately lights up with a text.

8:37pm lance ♡: can’t wait to see you :)

Keith bites his lip, no doubt failing miserably to hide his smile. Oh yeah. He supposes he missed Lance, too.

The wait to collect his bag and get off the plane is probably just the same as always, but this one feels particularly infinite. Keith slips into the queue as soon as he gets the chance, his stomach flipping over on itself as he waits for the line to get moving. The moment he steps off the plane, he finally feels like he can breathe again.

He quickly navigates his way through the crowd of fellow passengers, strangely comforted by the familiarity of signs he can read in full without using Google Translate. The line at customs isn’t quite as long as he might have expected, thank goodness, and he makes it through without any issues (also thank goodness). He’s never been so happy to skip the baggage claim, his single suitcase already in tow as he hurries through to the exit.

Despite the hour, the airport terminal is still full of people rushing about. The sound of suitcases rolling and heels clacking is just white noise at this point, and Keith ignores it all as he weaves through the chaos, eyes searching for the person he knows is already waiting for him.

When his gaze finds Lance through the crowd, his shoulders relax and his heart goes still for what feels like the first time in the past 24 hours. 

Lance sees him too, his face breaking out into a wide smile as he raises an arm and waves. He’s holding a small bouquet of flowers in his other hand, something he always insists on bringing for Keith no matter how many times he tells him he doesn’t have to. It’s about the gesture for him, something that makes Keith’s chest feel warm just thinking about. His feet carry him forward without even needing to be told, picking up more and more speed with each step. 

The second that he’s within reach, Keith drops his suitcase and throws himself into Lance’s waiting arms. Lance wraps his arms around Keith’s shoulders and squeezes, careful not to crush the flowers, and Keith breathes him in as he buries his face in Lance’s neck. They simply hold each other like that for a moment, without speaking, alone together in their own little bubble for the first time in weeks. Tears prick at the corners of Keith’s eyes as Lance presses his face into his hair, kissing his temple.

“Welcome home, sweetheart,” he murmurs. Keith just presses closer, his throat tight.

Lance doesn’t say anything about it when they pull away and Keith wipes underneath his eyes, sniffing a little. It’s been a long day, and Keith is exhausted. Lance has definitely figured as much. He reaches down to pick up the handle of Keith’s suitcase, giving him a little extra time to compose himself. Usually Keith would protest, but he’s learned by now that it’s useless. 

“Are you hungry?” Lance asks. Keith is sure he already knows the answer—he’s always too anxious to eat much when flying. It’s sweet of Lance to ask anyway.

“A little,” Keith admits. A lot is what he means, and what Lance has probably gathered.

He smiles as Keith takes the flowers and slides their hands together, tangling their fingers in the space between them. “C’mon. Shiro said we could order takeout, on him. We can put on a movie and crash on the couch, and then you can tell me all about Paris in the morning.” 

Keith really could cry. Lance knows him so well, and Keith loves him so much. He nods, swinging their hands a little back and forth. “That sounds nice.” 

Lance smiles again, keeps smiling when Keith takes the opportunity to step forward and kiss him properly, lips pressed softly together. His eyes are warm when they separate and he squeezes Keith’s hand, humming. “Let’s go then.”  

On the way to the car, Keith drops his head onto Lance’s shoulder. “I missed you,” he says quietly. 

In response, Lance lays his head on top of Keith’s and swipes his thumb over his knuckles. Everything about this, about him, is so comforting and familiar that all of Keith’s stress and tension from the day instantly melts away. He could fall asleep right here right now, all just because Lance is there.

He’s never been so happy to be home.

[the-kittens-of-vol-tron]

The most recent post you reblogged about Keith knowing Spanish would be so cool to see in writing if you are willing 💛

Ofc <3

Post found here! All credits go to @vldsideblog

A/N

I didn't write Spanish since I don't feel confident in my own Spanish skills to translate things properly. If anyone who knows Spanish better is interested in helping me translate I will edit this work/add more to it!

-----

Keith froze, ignoring how fast his heart was beating. How badly his lungs demanded air. He must have misheard Lance. There was no way he just said what he thought he said.

Lance stopped walking, turning slightly to look at where Keith was glued to. They were leaving the training deck, all of them at the point of exhaustion. "You good, Mullet?"

Keith met his eyes, finally allowing himself to take a strained breath. "What did you say?" He wheezed out.

Lance blinked at himself before sending him a mischievous smile. Repeating the words with confidence. The words fell off his tongue with ease. He walked out of the room, that smile still on his face.

Keith ran his hands through his sweat-damped hair. He wouldn't call himself fluent in Spanish. He could hold something that resembled a conversation when needed. He knew enough. Enough to get by. Enough to have basic conversations. Enough to understand what Lance said to him.

---

"Shiro." Keith entered the older man's room. Not even bother to knock.

Shiro's upper torse was propped up on his pillows as he read a book Pidge managed to translate into English. "Oh, sure you can come in Keith." Shiro's voice was neutral as he flipped to the next page. His energy was relaxed, winding down for the night.

Keith ignored Shiro's response and locked the door as soon as it closed. "Lance called me pretty."

Shiro's face remained staring at the pages, but his eyes were no longer reading the words. "...okay." His head tilted up some. "Just randomly?"

Keith nodded, his eyes looking everywhere but Shiro. "I don't think he wanted me to hear it."

"What makes you say that?" Shiro had resumed reading. Keith felt a sense of comfort over the informal side of Shiro. When he lived with Shiro and Adam, Shiro would always read before bed. Even if you were talking with him, he would remain reading. Listening but reading, as long as the topic wasn't serious.

"He said it in Spanish."

Shiro paused, his face scrunched up a bit in thought. He remained like that for half a minute before he leaned over and grabbed a small piece of paper from his desk. Marking his place in the book before sitting up. The topic was silently deemed serious, and Shiro patted the spot next to him on the bed.

Keith took the invitation and sat down next to him, waiting for Shiro's response.

"You're sure he called you pretty?"

Keith nodded his eyes on the floor by his shoes. "I had him repeat it just to make sure."

"And he said it in Spanish?"

Keith nodded again.

Shiro chuckled slightly, "so he assuming you don't know Spanish?"

"I guess so."

Shiro asked him a couple more questions. How he said it, the smile he wore on his face, anything to help determine if this was just a one-time thing or if the Blue Paladin was actually flirting with him.

Keith exited Shiro's room an hour later. They had determined an off-handed comment isn't enough to try and guess Lance's intentions. But Keith was going to keep listening for more.

---

He didn't have to wait long. The next day, as he and Lance headed back from the pool he caught the other boy staring at him. "What are you looking at?" Keith's hands instantly went up to touch his own face. Assuming something was on his face.

Lance rolled his eyes, crossing his arms as he looked at something else. He mumbled something in Spanish under his breath. His voice held a snarky tone. But it was void of any true malice or mockery.

Keith rolled his eyes, trying to keep his breathing and composure under control. The words replayed in his mind the entire walk to his room. Your hair looks soft.

---

These comments became a daily occurrence. Always said as a "negative" thing or Lance trying to "poke the bear" as Hunk called it. Maybe if Keith had no understanding of Spanish he would be upset. His mind would be cycling over what Lance would be saying. He would be driving himself up a wall, unable to figure it out.

But Keith knew, growing up in Texas gave him the basics. Plus, Adam would use Spanish around the house, especially when he was talking to himself out loud through a problem or project. So Lance's "subtle" flirting wasn't having the effect he thought it was.

Keith had memorized every sentence. Every compliment, every word, he tattooed them onto his brain. Lance's voice was a constant echo in his mind.

You're so pretty.

Your hair looks soft.

What I wouldn't give to kiss you.

You have my heart.

You actually make a mullet look good.

I want you to be mine.

He never seemed to run out of compliments. It made sense why he stared at him more now. It wasn't because of the rivalry. It was never because of that.

Keith sighed, the only frustrating thing about this was neither of them seemed willing to make a move. Lance seemed content with keeping his advances and flirtatious remarks quiet. Reserved for himself. But if Keith ever responded or made an indication that he understood, how would Lance react? Would he be mad? Embarrassed?

Keith was already embarrassed. He missed his chance to clear the air the first couple of compliments. But that was weeks ago. If Keith said anything now- He shook his head. There was nothing he could do about it now.

Dinner went well, they were stopped on a planet for the alliance. Lance still made his comments, keeping up the façade of "rivalry" but Keith believed everyone could see through it.

"You all are welcome to join us and watch the sunset! It sets once every six months and it is truly spectacular." Their host said, their voice heightened with excitement. The paladins began to make their way to the viewing area, Keith and Lance sitting next to each other.

It was a spectacular sight, three suns began to set at once. These colors mix together. Sending a purplish haze over the planet. Keith was in awe over the sight, he nearly missed the words Lance mumbled next to him. Almost as pretty as you.

He took a deep breath, every fiber of his being begging him to react. Say something, do something. He was always content waiting but right now? He couldn't. He glanced at Lance who quickly pretended he was watching the sunset the entire time. Keith forced his voice out, Lance was never going to confess himself. Keith had to break the ice. "You're the pretty one." He was hardly above a whisper. Maybe he was scared. Maybe he didn't want to ruin the energy around them. Maybe he wanted the words to just be between them.

Lance looked at him, his eyes filled with anxiety and worry. He released an uncomfortable laugh as his brain slowly slid the pieces together. "You feeling okay there, Mullet?" He swallowed hard, sweat beading around his hairline.

Keith smiled, more to himself than the boy next to him having a crisis. "I thought you liked my mullet?"

Lance continued to stare at him, unmoving. Keith was concerned he stopped breathing for a moment before Lance laughed. His laughter echoed off the space around them, unaware of everyone's eyes on him. "You've been understanding me this entire time?!" He leaned forward some, placing his hands on Keith's shoulders.

"Yeah," Keith could feel his skin burn. Lance's hands felt cool against him, a perfect contrast to what he was feeling.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Lance cocked his head to the side in a puzzling manner.

Keith shrugged, "I didn't know what to say."

Lance groaned in frustration. "So you have just been letting me flirt with you for weeks? And didn't think to say anything?"

Keith nodded, his throat tightening a bit.

"Why?"

"I was...shy?"

Lance chuckled, a sound Keith was in love with. "You're kind of stupid, you know that?"

Keith scoffed, "I'm not stupid."

Lance smiled, "you're not. I apologize." His eyes fell to Keith's lips before shifting back up to his eyes. "I meant everything I said."

"I hoped you did. Since you were unaware I could understand you."

Lance chuckled again, "I shouldn't have assumed." The suns finally went down, casting night over them. Leaving the two of them in their own world, each of them leaning a bit closer.

-----

They def kissed lololol

I hope you liked it <33333

[soulreapin]

in a true brothers moment shiro ALSO cannot craft for the fucking life of him

like alright one time

shiro and adam have been dating for maybe not very long

adam (in an attempt to hold hands with shiro) is like omg its like soooo cold out here

shiro has a brain in his head so he obviously holds hands with him but hes like maybe i should knit him some mittens that would be super cute

and my god these things are ugly. absolutely vomit-inducing. puke orange, so loosely knitted theyre barely hanging on, actually only one glove because shiro knitted them from the same string of yarn so theyve got an idiot string

adam does his BEST to love these atrocities but like. theyre Ugly as sin.

he wears them a month later and shiro (forgetting) he made them asks him ‘those are so fucking ugly you know that right’

‘shiro you made these for me’

keith asked him why there were knitting needles and yarn in their barbecue

[tarantula-hawk-wasp]

Do you have a Shiro playlist or songs you associate with him?

DO I, oh brother, DO I EVER

the impact my shiro playlist had on my Spotify wrapped…. Unprecedented…. I have only made 3 character playlists in my life and this is by far my favorite

Link to my YouTube version bc I cannot share Spotify links but

Little blurb about each song below the cut

It is short but pointed and since I’ve been holding back on infodumping about this since February. This draws heavily from songs on shiro playlists back in like 2017 and then also my own taste

1.Halsey- control THEE Shiro song to me. The amv in my mind when I listen to this ugh just like ALL of these lyrics give a very angsty s1/2 trying very hard to be stable but undeniable struggling vibe like. Listen I just rewatched Crystal Venom and the way you could fit the hallucination scene into this 🫨

2. Little Lion man. I mean what blorbo playlist isn’t complete without this. Lions and all that but also “Tremble for yourself, my man/You know that you have seen this all before /Tremble, little lion man / You'll never settle any of your scores”

for thee amnesia gladiator flashback man????

3. The Draw - Bastille - another angsty classic mental unwellness vibe. What gets me is both “ in your left hand there is the familiar / in your right hand there’s the great unknown” both in like space explorer man and also literally alien hand but also “When you go home everything looks different/ And you're scared of being left behind / Just listen to your friends / Trust that they're fair, look in their eyes / Just listen to your friends / They only care and hope you're alright”.

4. The Kongos - Come With Me Now - big warrior and gladiator energy to this one big Shiro’s capacity for violence and anxiety “ Afraid to lose control / And caught up in this world / I've wasted time, I've wasted breath / I think I've thought myself to death / I was born without this fear / Now only this seems clear / I need to move, I need to fight / I need to lose myself tonight”

5. April 1945 - this one is a movie soundtrack one and admittedly the weak link of this playlist but I got it from someone’s 8tracks ages ago and got attached to it as a Shiro song. Very ptsd horrors of war vibes

6. Broken Crown - Mumford and sons. Thee Shiro as champion, shiro and Haggar song to me

7. Violet Clementine - Lady Lamb - I keep trying to get people to appreciate this song as a blorbo song. To me the allegory with strings of fate and like the found family amvs I imagine to this in my mind… your family as the nest of yarn.. also obsessed with songs that refer to humans as animals… very shiro as gladiator vibes.

“ You build a nest of yellow yarn / You hope to god the yellowed yarn / Is soft enough to break your fall / Should you fall, should you fall”

“ Keep your silence golden and words important / You're only a handsome animal”

8. Berserker - Leslie Fish - another shiro and violence song bc I love when he fights like he has everything to lose and does not care about pain. Just have all the lyrics

9. I gave you all - Mumford and sons . Sorry for being a Mumford and sons girlie. This one to me is more at the universe at the galra at the black lion at the garrison even at adam. I don’t have a specific lyric just the vibe for like internal angst and bitter sweetness

10. Iron - Woodkid. Another one where literally all the lyrics vibe with Shiro as like missing from home gladiator soldier leader

[discordiansamba]

Adam's hands couldn't stop shaking.

He barely heard the voices of the people around them. Barely noticed as they checked him over for bites. What was supposed to be a simple mission to look for supplies and scout for survivors had gone horribly wrong. There had been a cluster where they hadn't expected one, and-

-and Keith was gone.

Keith was gone, and it was his fault.

He'd been careless. Hadn't noticed the zombie until it was too late. But Keith had. Keith had pulled him out of the way.

Keith got bit instead.

He saw it happen. Saw the zombie sink its teeth into his neck. No hope of neutralizing the infection by cutting off a limb. No hope to be saved. They'd both known it, even as Keith stabbed the zombie right in the brain, forcing it off of him. They made eye contact for a long moment- then Keith turned away, pulling his knife from the zombie's skull.

He told him to go. To take everyone else and get out. He'd hold them off for as long as he could, until...

...well. until.

Someone must have dragged him back to the AW Cruiser. He didn't remember. All he could think about was the fact that when Shiro came back from Kerberos, not only would he have to tell him the world had gone to hell while he was gone, he'd also have to tell him that Keith was gone.

Not dead. Something worse.

And it was all his fault.

[autisticlancemcclain]

When Shiro hears news of his mother’s death, his first thought is good riddance.

His second thought is fuck. Loudly, and repeated many times in his head. And out loud. In the middle of the night, sitting straight up in bed, startling his fiancé awake.

“T’kashi?” he mutters, eye squinted as he blindly pays the bedside table for his glasses. “What’s going on?”

Shiro’s mouth works on autopilot. “It’s my mother.”

As it always does when she is brought up, which is frequently due to her many life decisions, Adam’s face wrinkles as if he just bit into something very sour.

“Oh. What the fuck is she up to now?”

“Uh, the afterlife.”

Adam’s face freezes. Shiro chokes down hysterical laughter. It doesn’t work, and comes out kind of reedy and strangled.

“Mr. Shirogane,” comes the tinny voice from his phone, and Shiro startles.

“Oh, shit, yes. Sorry. Um. I wanted to ask about my brother. Where is he? When can I pick him up?”

There’s a hesitance from the other end that Shiro doesn’t like. He sits up straighter, if at all possible, and Adam’s face hardens — it has been a four year long fight, with his mother, to try to get Keith over as often as possible for even an ounce of stability, and not a fight they have won very frequently, but it is not one they’re willing to give up. Shiro has no doubt that the state will fight just as hard as his mother did.

Adam and Shiro will simply fight harder.

“The safety of the child is the state’s first concern,” the lawyer says neutrally.

“Great. Give me an address and twenty minutes, then, and I’ll bring him right home.”

The lawyer’s voice is steely. “He is home, with a lovely young couple who are happy to have him.”

“There is a lovely young couple who he is related to and whom he has familiarity with right here,” Shiro grits out. “Tell me where my brother is.”

The lawyer waits a moment. “It might be a difficult transition, you know. It would be nice for Keith to have a mother and a father, for once.”

Before Shiro can even blink, a hand reaches over and snatches the phone right from his face, and Adam throws it open onto the bedspread, presses speaker, and sets off.

“You listen here, you gristly assed motherfucker. Takashi has the right of next of kin. Failing proof of neglect or abuse, which you have tried and failed to invent on our end so many times the court as all but banned you from trying again, Keith is legally required to be placed in our home should Shirogane Saori be found incapable of care. And, as you can imagine, lying on a table in a morgue renders one quite incapable. If you don’t provide an address clearly and concisely in the next fifteen seconds, I will sue not only you and your firm, but you mother, your father, your children, and you dusty tailor, you ugly brown suit wearing hetero. Are we understood?”

There’s another stretch of silence, wherein despite the gravity of the situation Shiro considers proposing to his fiancé again, before the lawyer finally speaks.

“…Group home on 4th and King.”

“Thank you,” Adam says tersely, and slams the phone closed. He scoffs at it. “Fucking jackass. Someone should kill him.”

Shiro snorts. Then he giggles. Then he starts laughing, and then he can’t stop, and he laughs so hard tears come to his eyes, and then they don’t stop, either, and his breath hitches and a lump forms in his throat and his whole face starts to get itchy. Adam pulls him into him immediately, cradling him into his lap like he’s a child, and he goes without resistance because it’s Adam doing to holding, and because he doesn’t know where this sadness is coming from. He has hated his mother for more years than he has loved her. The only time he’s thanked her for anything in the last eight years was one he held Keith in the hospital, skipping his first day of high school to do it. She has been crueler than kind to him for most of his life.

But she was his mother, in many ways. In all ways except the ones that mattered. And apparently that counts for something.

“We need to go,” Shiro whispers, trying to lift his head. Adam gently presses it back into his neck, holding his arms around him.

“It’s four in the morning, starshine. Maybe we wait a few hours?”

“No.” The hoarseness of his own voice makes him wince. “He can’t…Adam, I don’t even like my mother, and look at me. Keith is going to be inconsolable. She carted him around like a baby doll. He loved her.”

Adam winces. He knows it’s true as much as Shiro does. Their mother’s erratic lifestyle has gifted Keith an assortment of attachment issues, as evidenced by the tantrums whenever she dropped him off at their apartment when she was bored.

Not that Keith understands the issue. Because he is four, and because he has gone through more things in his four years of life than many children will before they are even ten, but not enough to stop thinking his mother is the most important person on Earth.

Quickly they dress, shoving in whatever clothes are near without worrying about looking presentable. They don’t bother with much more than brushing their teeth, skipping shaving and breakfast and coffee in favour of speeding to the parking garage.

It only takes them fifteen minutes to get to the group home the lawyer has mentioned, and they waste no time in rushing up the steps, uncaring of social norms or etiquette as they ring the doorbell and stand fidgeting at the front door.

It takes a long time for the door to open. Shiro can’t help feeling like that is intentional.

“What,” barks the man at the door, as if their intent isn’t expressly obvious given the circumstance.

“I’m here to pick up my brother,” Shiro says as politely as he can manage. “Keith?”

“He’s sleeping,” says the man, who Shiro presumes is one of the foster parents running the home. “Come back tomorrow.” He tries to slam the door shut, but before he can register his own movement Shiro is slamming his hand against the door. The wood cracks under his palm.

He doesn’t bother saying anything. He doesn’t have it in him. He simply shoves the door open, sending the man stumbling, and strides in, remembering at the last second to try and keep quiet so as to not wake any other sleeping children. It takes him three tries to find the right room, but when he finally swings open the right door he knows, from the very second he sees the lump of blankets on the bottom bunk in the far right corner. He stands frozen for a moment at the door, watching his baby brother breathe, seeing the dried tear tracks on his face, the stutter of his breaths and shake of his chest. His thumb is firmly in his mouth, a habit he’s had broken for two years.

Shiro’s eyes begin to leak again. He feels Adam squeeze his bicep once in comfort, then wordlessly he walks off, gathering the messy scattering of Keith’s things into a large backpack. Trusting him to know or guess what belongs to his brother — all largely things they’ve bought him — Shiro approaches the bed, kneeling carefully at the edge of it. He reaches out and brushes Keith’s hair out of his face, gliding his thumb across his forehead. It wrinkles as Keith wakes, squinting his eyes up at Shiro in grogginess and confusion. It takes him a moment to register what’s going on, but Shiro knows the exact second it does, because his indigo eyes go blank the way they do when Keith is so far overwhelmed he can’t even come close to starting to process how he feels. Shiro braces himself for whatever vitriol, likely directly quoted from their mother, is about to come out of his mouth.

“I don’t want you,” Keith cries. He makes a sound in the back of his throat, cracked and strained; a long, keening cry. His face twists up and he glares at Shiro in what can only be described as betrayal, as if it’s Shiro’s fault their mother is gone, as if it was Shiro’s evil plan to take her away forever so he can never go back.

He wouldn’t even be surprised if that’s what their mother has told him. It hurts anyway.

“I know,” he chokes out, hushed. He brushes his thumb over Keith’s forehead again, slow, from temple to temple, and to his surprise his brother leans into it slightly as his breaths hitch with sobs. “I know, baby.”

He exchanges a look with Adam, who, God Shiro loves him so much, understands immediately: they have ten minutes.

Two years ago, when their mother dropped Keith off at his doorstep one day and fucked off to Atlanta for a week, Shiro decided enough was enough. Keith was convinced she was coming back to get him every morning and was devastated when she didn’t. It was an endless, sisyphian cycle. Shiro took the day off school, took his limited funds, and brought Keith to a paediatric specialist. It was of course not the most thorough evaluation, as that was something that could only be done with time, but there was almost definitely some valuable input. Shiro learned, in harried, layman’s terms, that their mother’s flakiness meant Keith always believed he was about to be left behind. Her babying of him lead him to believe that he was at fault when that happened. When he was actually happened, he was prone to tears and affection, trying to win back his mother, trying to prove that he was a good enough baby doll for her, basically.

And if that doesn’t work…well. Then the hurt and the anger start, and God knows how long it will last.

“Ten minutes,” Adam mutters, stuffing one last thing into the backpack and shoving it over his shoulders. “Let’s go.”

Taking the blanket with him, because fuck these guys, Shiro lifts his baby brother up, holding him tightly to himself, pressing his face into his neck. He starts to powerwalk down the hallway back to the front door, Adam close behind him. He vaguely hears the same man who opened the door start to argue with them, start to try to stop them, and he trusts Adam to handle it, because all he can hear in his head is a countdown. If they don’t make it to the car in time and Keith starts really wailing, they are going to take him away, and Shiro knows he will never get fucking visiting rights because the family court system is the most broken thing in America, and Keith will be shoved into some random group home that doesn’t care about him and won’t care about him and he’ll be treated like shit or worse not treated like anything at all, and he will grow up thinking that there is no one who loves him and no one to turn to and Shiro will never forgive himself or his mother or the world.

He needs to get his brother to the car.

He rushes down the beaten down concrete steps as fast as he can while still being careful in the dark. The car is half a block away, the only place they could find parking, and he starts to jog, ignoring the ache in his arms. He’s held Keith for longer. At the seven minute mark, he registers yelling voices and a door slam and Adam’s rapid footsteps behind him, and by the ninth they make it to their beat up piece of shit fourth-hand car, throwing open the back door, setting Keith down gently, bucking the kid in as quickly as they can manage.

Shiro has lost count of how much time they have, if they have any at all. His heart pounds so rapidly he can feel it everywhere in his body. He’s bitten the inside of his cheek so harshly he can taste blood. He feels like he’s gonna throw up.

He’s barely thrown a seatbelt on by the time Adam shifts into gear and tears out onto the busy street, cars honking at him. Shiro meets his eyes in the rearview mirror, trying to find strength in his look, in his support. He tries to tell himself that the worst part is over, now; Keith is with him, beside him in the back seat, Keith is going to stay with him forever, now, he is going to make his baby brother’s life stable from now on. They are starting to swim their way out of the deep end.

And then the wailing starts.

It’s loud. Keith takes a huge, deep breath, then lets out a noise that Shiro can only describe as agonised, so big and heavy that it pulls on his little body, straining against the seatbelt. His face is bright red from the force of it, and Shiro can count his teeth with how wide open his mouth is. Bizarrely, Shiro wonders if he’s loud enough for the windows to break, or their eardrums. He’s not sure if his own pain comes from his ears or his heart.

“I want my mama!” Keith sobs, shouts, screams, cries. “I want my mama! I want my mama!”

“I know,” Shiro whispers again, for what feels like the millionth time that night. Between Keith’s stuttering breaths Shiro hears Adam’s soft cries, looks up to see tears streaming down his face. He’s surprised to find his own face dry as a bone, the lump in his throat he’d felt earlier completely disintegrated. He feels hollowed out. “I know, Akira. I know. I know.”

Shiro wonders if this is what it feels like to drown.

[blueblueberryjam]

Chapter 62 Excerpt of Lost and Found: A Broganes Story

"Come up here," the judge said, indicating the bench, "And you can take a picture to commemorate the moment." Shiro stood, grabbing Keith's hand. They were so close. He slipped his phone behind him to Adam. 

Shiro stood with Keith in front of the judge, smiling in Adam's direction. 

"Now, turn around," the judge said. Shiro did, readjusting his grip on Keith's hand. "It is one of the court's most solemn and happy duties to unite families. I am pleased to announce-" the judge picked up a pen and signed the document in front of her- "the you, Takashi Shirogane, are now the legal parent of Keith Kogane." She smiled at them. "I wish you both well in the future." 

Shiro couldn't believe it. He hugged Keith tightly. The judge scanned the document with her tablet and passed the original to Shiro, who took it with a shaking hand. He showed it to Keith. The more it settled in, the more tears sprung to Shiro's eyes until he was actually crying and holding onto Keith. They had actually made it. No one could take Keith away now. God, Shiro hadn't realized how afraid he was until he didn't have to be afraid anymore. 

But more than that, he was vibrantly, deliriously happy.