#i hate going nonverbal cause he always yells at me for being quiet

[shortnsweetgf]

vent post

[kakusboyfriend]

Sdr2 boys with an autistic s/o!

Okay so I'm autistic and the lack of autistic s/o prompts out there is making me Dry inside. Lets get this bread

Also please forgive me if I write any of them wrong! I'm still learning about all of these dudes

Disclaimer! Shsl Imposter/Twogami's gender is not specified and they're referred to with they/them! It wouldn't make me comfortable to put them on this list :^)

Hajime Hinata

As soon as he learns you're autistic he does a lot of research on what autism is like for autistic people, how to help you with sensory overload, etc etc

Always asking you if what he's doing is okay! Is this too much noise? Is the texture bad? Do you not like the lights?

Absolutely not bothered when you go nonverbal; he's more than pleased to have a little bit of silence if we're being honest. He can't read sl well so he'll give you something to write on if you want to!

He loves seeing you happy stim!!! It brings such a warm smile to his face — Hajime just adores when you're happy altogether but seeing you stim makes his heart go !

He's not very good at social situations to begin with so if you want to stay at home and watch your favorite comfort cartoon/movie, he doesn't mind it!

Do you want him to put his leg on you for pressure? Hug you a bit tighter? Let you hang around gripping his arm? Mess with his hair? He's all mushy and soft about this skdnsksnj! He knows you're opening yourself to seek him as a source of comfort and it melts his heart sm

Nagito Komaeda

Oh this boy. Due to his dementia he actually relates to what you experience in social situations a lot — no, I'm not comparing this to a lethal disease. The symptoms, however, are similar to the characteristics in autistic people! So he relates to you but won't say its the same thing at all

His hair is sensory heaven. Literally, it's so fluffy! Pet it please. He craves physical affection to begin with, so it's a plus for him! He also loves seeing how much you're infatuated with his hair alone

Buys you anything that you think might be good to stim with! He helps you keep everything clean and organised so you don't get stressed over losing them, and makes sure he has at least one with him when you two go out, he would hate seeing you stressed.

If you go nonverbal he also has no problem with it at all! He knows sl and is definitively up to teach it to you if you think it would be helpful, too. If you just want to be quiet, he can be just as good of a company!

When he says stuff like threats to himself (wanting to die, killing himself) and you get worried because read him too seriously he backs off of it and says its not serious (and he's sincere this time) because you're the brightest spotlight of hope in his life, and losing it would mean losing the chance to be with you

Kazuichi Souda

This sweet boy!!! Sometimes he forgets what exactly you need, like sensory wise, but backs off really quickly if what he's doing hurts you in that sense

He also loves fiddling with things so if you want to borrow some tools from him so you can fiddle with its no problem! He might make a handmade fidget toy for you later on!

Sometimes he yells too much and that causes a sensory overload, and as soon as he realizes it he's so so so apologetic. The baby

Loves it when you play with different textures and tell him how much you love them!! Like yes!!!! He also loves different textures differently so he'll share his own favorites with you!

A PASSION FOR YOU INFODUMPING. He'll sit there, mouth agape, as he notices how adorable and precious you are when you happy stim while you talk about your special interest!!!! He just wants to know what you love!!!!!

Fuyuhiko Kuruzuyu

The sort of bastard who made autistic jokes until he met you, and you made him understand that autism isn't actually anything to ridicule. He will absolutely punch someone if they berate you because of your autism now!

His hair is short and fuzzy — perfect for rubbing! Though please don't do it too hard or fast you don't want to hurt him :^(

Can also be very noisy, but he cuts it out around you. Turns soft spoken and gentle because you can't differentiate friendly aggression x real aggression. It's super sweet but only you get to see this part of him; he has a reputation to maintain!

Usually, he's the shorter one in the relationship, so you can completely envelop him like a little teddy bear! Don't crush him, though; just hug him tight! If he's on the same height level he'll insist to be the big spoon and add a lot of pressure (not enough to hurt you) as he hugs you!

When you happy stim, he gives you a soft, warm and genuine smile. He's so enamoured with you and the happiness you're experiencing makes him so so so full of passion

Overall, he's been so rough with everyone else, but you're different in more ways than being autistic. He may sound condescending at times, but as soon as you call him out on it, he never repeats the behavior again. He's just scared to hurt you

Gundham Tanaka

Another loud little man, this fucker. You're the only one 'spared' from his thunderous introductions and speeches — he speaks normally around you. He'd rather die than hurt his king/queen/monarch of darkness

Lets his animals run all over you! Especially the very fluffy ones since you seem to love that. When they lay on you and you comment on how much you like the pressure, he lets them get around you even more!

He knows how hatred for being touched feels like — he took a while to open up to you, for starters. If you don't want to be touched, he absolutely understands and will support you in any other way until you're up for it again.

He's known for eloquent and unclear speech, but will be more straightforward for you. He wants you to understand him after all sksbsmdnn dumb bastard

If anyone is mean to you bc of autism, he will make it so they Suffer the Plague of the God Of Darkness. For real tho, he'll get really pissed off, and might use a predator to attack the ableist asshole, who knows!

If your special interest is animal he. Is. Absolutely. Fucking. Crying. You both infodump to each other until you're too tired to do anything anymore and just lay around tangled together, knowing the other understands and loves you for who you are!

Teruteru Hanamura

Doesn't make innuendos anymore when you start dating, for starters. If he's in a mood he'll just say it, since he knows it's hard for you to understand metaphors and wordplay, but is more than okay with a no.

Also loves it when you play with his hair! He misses how his mom used to care for him, and now he's so fond of you just being into him genuinely that he would do anything for him

Soft and squishy! Perfect for hugging! He's really short and can be used as a teddy bear too! Though he prefers to be the small spoon so he can feel your body lovingly enveloping his

You got a specific food that you eat and it needs to be prepared in a specific way? He's on it! And he absolutely nails it every time, its no issue for him! No matter how complicated or simple, he can make do and will be so pleased when you say its perfect!

Manages to get you out of shitty social situations fairly quickly. If you're nonverbal, he won't be able to communicate through asl, but any other way is also fine! If you're not overstimulated, he'll also give you soft hugs and sit on ur lap, resting his head on your shoulder

Nekomaru Nidai

So you're a little different huh? That's so good!!! He loves it! The fact you're not like anyone he knows makes you even more perfect to him!

He'll boast about his perfect s/o a lot! He's very loud and proud about you! The dream giant lovebug :^)

Can get a little too wild while training and also loud, so you can easily be overloaded. Encourages you not to be there when he trains with someone like owari because he knows he won't be thinking coherently enough to remember not to yell, and if roughhousing gets you uncomfortable this certainly will be worse. He's worried about you!

Wraps all over you when you're cuddling if you're okay with him doing that! Will also get you tons of weighted blankets because he's worried about how quickly they'll deteriorate dkdndkdn

If something is bothering you somewhere and you want to leave he'll just give u a piggyback ride! Its lovely to have you so close to him, also he gets to make u comfy!

Loves to indulge in your special interests if he can! You wanna marathon a show? He's on it! You wanna watch a documentary on snakes? He's already making popcorn!

Just a huge teddy bear baby. He loves you so SO much and is so filled with pride about how amazing u are!

[bloomingednae]

Chapter 4 is now up, enjoy!

Chapter 4: Lies

Cause I don’t think about you every single night, I’ll be fine without you…. These are the lies that I tell myself at night, These are the lies that are keeping me alive. ~ “These Are The Lies” ~ The Cab (song inspiration: x ) 

October 5, 2018 (Evening)

The Akihabara nights had gotten remotely cooler, Kurisu noticed, as she brought her light cardigan around herself. While it wasn’t the same brown one she usually donned, she still preferred a cardigan over a simple blouse, bringing the dark blue-colored cardigan closer around her as she caught up to walk next to Okabe.

Okabe didn’t so much glance at her as he kept his eyes straight ahead on the road, walking to the local convenience store. They didn’t say anything at all, quiet silence over them, even as Okabe went into the store and bought the necessary requested items.

It was odd; the silence between them was comforting, yet awkward; something felt out of place, Kurisu noted to herself, but it didn’t feel completely wrong to be in silence, either. She felt herself internally feel that sense of bittersweet familiarity again, and it nagged into her until she decided to speak up.

As the doors of the convenience store closed behind her, she opened her mouth to speak, unable to pinpoint the emotion she currently felt.

“Okabe-”

“How have you been?”

His abrupt interruption distracted her, and she shook her head, pausing before answering. She sighed.

“Why do you want to know, suddenly?”

Okabe shrugged. “Your messages hardly tell me what’s going in your life; just thought it’d be a good idea to figure out where precious Lab member 004 has stuck her head into now.”

Kurisu crossed her arms once more as they walked the semi-short distance back to the lab apartment, looking up at the sky briefly before gazing back at the road, avoiding his gaze.

“The usual. Research, conferences, panels...I’m an associate professor for a few classes every other quarter. Helps break up the monotone every once in awhile.”

Okabe nodded, listening intently. “As expected. Working on your fourth paper, I assume?”

Kurisu nodded in return. “Yeah. It’s not ready for review yet, still working out the smaller things to make it flow better.”

Okabe said nothing in reference to the paper, placing his hands in his pockets in a more relaxed posture.

“How’s Hiyajo-san?”

Kurisu laughed a bit. “Still messy as ever. But living with her has been really productive. I have no complaints about being with her, since we both research the same things, anyway.”

Okabe hummed in response, acknowledging her statement, but didn’t quite delve into the topic. When he asked no further questions, she nudged him on the side, nodding her head towards him as she did so.

“And you? Anything new?”

Okabe remained silent at first, contemplating his words. “Work. Research. Still learning English.”

Kurisu laughed a bit at this. “I can start speaking in English so you can practice again, if you want.”

Okabe grimaced, his face contorted with discontent. “I’d...advise against it right now, thank you very much.”

She smiled, putting her hands in her cardigan pockets. “Someone getting rusty, I hear?”

Okabe smiled in return and he shook his head. “You’d be shocked to hear me and how much I can understand now; I’m merely saving my talents for an appropriate audience.”

Kurisu rolled her eyes. “Please. And who else would that be? The only other people who understand English as fluently is Tennouji-san and he doesn’t even like you that much.”

Okabe crossed his arms. “I’d like to say we have a mutual partnership.”

“Uh huh. Explains why he still yells about raising the rent after eight years.”

He frowned in response. “Mr. Braun already raised the prices since I started working…”

Kurisu chuckled at this. “That’s a compliment; that means he thinks you��re responsible enough to handle being an adult, for once.”

Okabe glanced at her. “We’ve established that being a mad scientist has no age difference-

“Sorry,” Kurisu sarcastically mocked, “should’ve considered the fact that there’s a first time for everyone to feel like an adult. Don’t think too much on it, though, you might explode your adult brain into pieces.”

Okabe turned away with a harumph, silently accepting her sarcastic win as they continued to walk towards the lab. When the silence came over them once more, Okabe gave one quick glance towards her before looking away, a question lingering on his tongue. He wondered if it would be too fast to switch topics and advised against himself to not ask it.

“No.”

Okabe looked up suddenly at Kurisu, who began shaking her head.

“What?” Okabe asked in question, slight confusion in his voice. When she shook her head again, she sighed, closing her eyes momentarily.

“No,” she repeated again. “I’m...not with him anymore. If that’s what you’re going to ask.”

Okabe silently gulped in embarrassment, not realizing how obvious his nonverbal actions were. He scratched the back of his head awkwardly, unsure how to follow up with such a straightforward answer, before swallowing his pride and attempting to respond to her.

“W-well-”

“It’s clear that you wanted to ask me,” Kurisu snapped in return, “so I might as well say it first before you ask.”

The bitterness in her voice caused him to flinch a bit and she sighed shaking her head.

“...sorry. I’m just…” she sighed again in frustration, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear as she tried to cool down by breathing in the crisp night air.

Okabe glanced at her again, eyeing the way she tried to brush off her frustration and turned away quickly so as to not make it obvious. He mentally kicked himself again for hating the way he was acting, and cleared his throat to take his mind off of it.

“Er...how did...well…”

He spewed out incoherent words in an attempt to make a sentence to no avail. He expected a glare from her for even asking, but she merely kept her eyes on the road. He could tell there were traces of weariness from recalling the incident.

Kurisu on the other hand, thought for a bit on how to explain the situation. She couldn’t quite explain the real reasoning behind why he broke it off; it had everything to do with Okabe and the reason why she was back. She tried to formulate some type of explanation, but none came.

“I-it’s fine, I mean it’s...understandable the way you’re feeling right now.”

His words broke her train of thought as he attempted to move the subject. He cringed at his words, a feeble attempt to cheer her up. Sighing, he attempted again, hoping to contribute something of relevance to the conversation.

“I mean...you’re probably feeling bitter or disappointed at the situation; that guy, he was your uh, first boyfriend, wasn’t he?”

She sighed and slowly spoke. “...yeah and...I’m sorry, I just can’t...talk about it right now.”

He nodded stiffly, continuing.

“So just...take your time. Figure things out. I know we’ve reached an age where everyone seems to be settling down but there’s...no rush…”

He was met with more silence and he could do nothing but look away from her, feeling the awkwardness in him develop into silence. After a second or two, he heard her snicker a bit, which eventually developed into a laugh, something so pure and loud ringing in his ears with a familiar nostalgia.

He glanced at her, slightly pouting. “What did I say?”

She looked back up at him. “You really haven’t had a girlfriend before, have you?”

The question caught him off guard, but he again stiffly shook his head, biting back the honest truth. In all reality, she never technically was his...girlfriend, but a kiss meant a lot to him and he could almost count her as such.

But he stubbornly left his mouth close, hearing her hum in response. He looked at her once more.

“I still don’t get why you’re laughing.”

Kurisu grinned. “Because if you were in a previous relationship at some point of your life, the poor girl must have had some awkward ‘cheering up’ conversations whenever she was down.”

Okabe frowned. “I was being genuine!”

Kurisu laughed again. “And that’s where the problem is, you need to be genuine with confidence.”

“Pfft,” Okabe harrumphed, sticking his head high with pride, “I was confident, Christina; it’s just you and your little world where you couldn’t see it as such.”

Kurisu rolled her eyes. “Would it kill you to call me by my real name?”

Okabe didn’t budge, still head high, but with no response. It probably would, Okabe thought to himself, but made no effort to admit it. She shook her head and sighed, both of them still walking in tandem back to the lab entrance.

As soon as they reached the bench outside of the CRTV shop, Kurisu stopped and Okabe looked back at her with confusion as she stood there, staring right back at him. There was a momentary pause before she spoke, slowly letting the words escape her mouth.

“...you haven’t called me ‘assistant’ for awhile, now.”

Okabe glanced back at her, evening out his emotions in him as she mentioned the obvious. He didn’t move as he kept his gaze steady on her; there was an unreadable emotion in her eyes as it stared back into his own, awaiting his answer to something that was so previously routine.

For Kurisu, it was just as she expected; he didn’t answer her which left her with more open questions that she didn’t know how to ask. Why she even bothered to say that statement was beyond her; the absence of that key nickname felt like a void opened in her heart, even though it had always nagged at her. It was a silly name to be sure, but she couldn’t help but feel that it meant a little more each time he had called her as such.

And why, she thought to herself, she was craving to be called by that was beyond her. It was even more puzzling to herself that he didn’t bother answering that question, as if her assumptions were correct all along. But why did she bother bringing it up…? She suddenly felt timid, and deep down, she began wonder when they both began to be so awkward with each other.

The silence that began to build between them spoke volumes; years of distance did a number on their bond, and it became much more evident as none made an effort to mention it.

She suddenly felt stupid bringing it up and she glanced away, looking up towards the rooftop and began to take a few a steps forward to begin the ascent back up.

“...sit for a bit.”

“Huh?”

Okabe’s sudden suggestion threw her off guard as she glanced back up at him to see him making his way towards the bench. He sat with the store items next to him and though hesitant, Kurisu eventually made her way towards the bench as well, sitting back with him.

The silence continued; a small night breeze picked up as it blew its way down the street; Kurisu instinctively brought her cardigan closer to herself, unsure if it was the chill of the night that made her cold or if it was the silence that made her feel openly vulnerable.

Okabe leaned back into the bench, shutting his eyes for a moment as Kurisu wrapped her cardigan around herself; for a moment, he debated on offering his own cardigan to her but...decided against it, realizing that would indeed blur the lines between the two of them.

He also realized he needed to stop indulging himself in such thoughts; it had been years since he could last remember a time when he used to think about being with her, but he had denial as his long-term partner and committed to it as such that he brushed all thoughts of it aside.

He avoided the question, he knew. How could he answer? ‘Assistant’ was a name he made specifically for her in reference to his long-ago infatuation, which eventually developed into something deeper. It was a name he kept as special, but since the day he decided to let her go, he never uttered the name again. He was surprised, shocked even, that she noticed it. But it was typical of her, he noted to himself, that she’d pick up on it; her curious mind never let such things go under the radar.

And why he asked her to sit, he couldn’t tell. Maybe he wanted more time with her alone. Maybe he wanted to talk to her. Maybe he actually wanted to elaborate on the meaning of the name ‘assistant’; in the end, he found himself at a loss of words and decided on silence in her presence.

Kurisu shifted next to him as she crossed her legs, eyes in thought.

“...are you really okay?”

Okabe cracked open one eye at her and shut it again, nodding slowly. “I’m fine.”

She pursed her lips. “Then why…”

“Maybe I just wanted company,” Okabe admitted, interrupting her sentence. He compromised with generalizing his internal emotions, realizing it didn’t sound that bad as he spoke.

Another a small silence followed, then a sigh. Kurisu glanced up towards the sky again, contemplative.

“You could have just called me if you ever needed me,” she started. “Sure I’m busy, and the time difference is horrible, but…”

She turned her head towards him, his eyes now open as he turned to look back at her.

“I’ll always answer. No matter what time it is, or what I may be doing, I’ll answer. Maybe not if I miss your call, but I’d call you back. I’d message you back. Even if it takes awhile....”

“You’re not alone, Okabe,” she continued. “I can see it in you; you walk as if the whole weight of the world is on your shoulders, but you have plenty of friends here to talk with. If you feel like the world is closing in, they will always be there for you.”

She smiled a bit as she concluded. “And I will be, too.”

Okabe felt his heart twinge at her last words, a twisted feeling inside of him as he internalized her reassuring comments. They were more than reassuring comments; they were words said once before in a seemingly other lifetime that are now rearranged and spoken in a different context, but still full of the same compassion and sincerity as the first time.

He gritted his teeth; the reason why he never called was because he wanted to let go of her; he needed to let her go. All the same, she rarely called herself, but she did message quite often...but he couldn’t accept it. He couldn’t force her into a relationship built on promised words from another world line.

And yet, in that moment, he felt so close to her again, so dangerously close, that he felt himself staggering between what was reality and denial. The lies that kept him alive began to faint in those few minutes once more, and it didn’t help that she kept staring at him, fueling the reminiscent feelings from long ago.

As if those said feelings pushed him forward, he found himself doing the impossible; leaning towards her, her gaze became closer and it slowly started to progress from surprise to realization-

“Oka...be?”

They were inches away, faces within range of each other, and so close that he could lean his forehead against hers. Almost immediately, he stopped at the sound of her voice, pulling away quickly and sighing in frustration as he ran a hand through his hair.

He wanted to throw up; realizing his actions, he rubbed his temples with both of his hands, trying to stop the world before him from spinning. What did his actions look like to her, he silently wondered? Thinking back, it made him feel sick and twisted; here, she just explained breaking up with her partner of three years, and yet, what he was doing was-

He shook his head. The actions which he portrayed reflected desperation and an unreachable reality. The fact of the matter was obvious; he was a man stuck in the past, and it made Okabe feel disgusted with himself.

Kurisu, on the other hand, felt frozen in place from the events that transpired. Her face felt flushed, the chill of the night no longer affecting her as she turned away, placing her hands on her lap tightly. She felt her heart rate beating at an extreme rate as she tried to even her breathing.

While her spoken words were something that she had said for the first time to her, the undeniable familiarity came once more once she spoke them to him. They felt natural and free-flowing, and it was a message she genuinely wanted him to hear.

But in that moment as she spoke those words, she knew; she knew deep down, that they met something more, even as she kept speaking them. She tried to hold back, but her mind ran with so many words and somehow, her heart spoke those words instead. They were confusing to her; why, even after all these years, the remainder of these previous feelings still stayed in her with no definition.

And so, even in that moment as he leaned towards her, she found herself not protesting. His golden eyes bore into hers as he came closer; she initially felt surprised and typically, she’d push people away from coming too close to her without asking, but...in that moment, she welcomed-no, she wanted him to come closer. Her curious mind ran in circles, wondering what would happen, or, what he was doing. He was very close to her, and the build up in that moment was both comforting and terrifying.

But nerves overcame her as she spoke his name softly, and she instantly regretted it the moment he turned away in frustration.

And almost instantaneously, she regretted even thinking about that previous regret because that meant that Seth’s assumptions were true; she thought of something more all these years without realizing it. Kurisu clutched her arms around herself tightly, feeling vulnerable with the realization and the result of her unspeakable actions.

Now seated again in more silence, she felt her breathing even out, awareness to her surroundings returning as she looked up. No one was passing, as to be expected, but she didn’t dare turn to look him in the eye afterwards. It had only been a day and a half since her return to Japan, and the emotions and questions only continued to build.

She almost leaped when she heard Okabe sigh loudly, standing up as he did so. He grabbed the convenience store bag, and, turning his back on her, spoke in a nonchalant tone.

“...we better get these up to Faris and the others before they start...suspecting something else.”

Kurisu felt her cheeks flush and she nodded in silence, following Okabe as he began his ascent up the stairs. The echoes that filled the small stairwell loudly rang throughout the building, and Kurisu clutched her chest near her once-again rapid heart beat.

The echoes weren’t nearly as loud and painful as the ones in her heart.

blooming note: In the original S;G visual novel, it lightly explains that Mr. Braun knows Japanese and English (and I believe French, but I can’t recall at the moment!), so that was just explaining that little tidbit that Kurisu mentioned above. In any case, next chapter to come shortly. ~

[shirosquared-old]

Habits of the Heart

Here’s my fic for the @shancesupportsquad‘s Valentine’s day exchange! My giftee was @hirocyonia!

Chapters: 1/1 Words: 6739 (6.7k) Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: None Relationships: Lance/Shiro (Voltron) Characters: Lance (Voltron), Shiro (Voltron), The others are mentioned but it’s mostly just them tbh Additional Tags: Major Character Injury, Hypothermia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, stranded fic, Flashbacks, depictions of injuries, Concussions, Mutual Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Lance and Shiro make a terrifying team, Lance is very capable, Slightly beyond canon-typical violence Summary:

After Shiro takes a hard fall, Lance is there to help support him even while the Galra hunt them through dangerous conditions.

“Shiro?” a voice yelled, the volume murderous to Shiro’s head. He knew that voice, so achingly familiar. Shiro hoped with everything he had that the blood he smelled wasn’t Lance’s.

[Read it on AO3]

Shiro groaned, his senses coming back to him one by one. First, he could hear the shifting and shouts somewhere nearby. What were they looking for? Then he could smell burnt metal, a heavy scent of blood, a hint of something almost like peppermint.

He could feel, and the first thing he registered was that everything hurt, so much that Shiro could barely think. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to get past the initial wave of it. Once he adjusted, he'd be fine.

Slowly, as his body adjusted—and really, he knew he shouldn’t be able to say he was used to this kind of thing, but he was—to the pain, he took stock of his own condition. Most of his armor was warped and dented, some parts singed and burnt. His visor was cracked and no longer able to seal shut, part of the material pressing uncomfortably against his head. He reached up to pull it off, but his right arm didn’t budge. Nothing even felt like it responded.

Shiro glanced over anxiously, unsure of what he would find. His breath caught in his throat when he saw the state of his prosthetic. Part of it was completely missing, destroyed from the elbow to his fingertips. Exposed wires hung out of the end, and Shiro resisted the urge to poke them. He had no idea what they did, and could just end up causing more problems for himself if he wasn't careful.

He didn’t see any large pieces of the parts that’d been broken, probably lost in all of the snow. By the time they found all of it, the snow that melted would have probably already wrecked the internals, even if he had the capability to actually do something with those pieces.

Shiro’s head pounded and his ankle throbbed, probably twisted or sprained. At the least, he should keep his weight off of it as much as possible to prevent it from getting worse.

The rest of him was covered in trivial bruises and scrapes, nothing life-threatening, though he couldn’t see his back well enough to tell. In fact, none of his injuries would end his life. He wasn't sure how he felt about that, honestly. He didn't want to die, nor did he want to live in pain. It really turned out to be a vicious cycle.

He still smelled blood, thick and heavy. Was it his? If it wasn't his, then who—

“Shiro?” a voice yelled, the volume murderous to Shiro’s head. He knew that voice, so achingly familiar. Shiro hoped with everything he had that the blood he smelled wasn’t Lance’s.

“Lance?” Shiro started to try to sit up, but a hand pressed lightly on his shoulder and pushed him back down. He had to get to Lance, he had to make sure he was okay—

“Easy,” Lance murmured. “You must’ve hit your head pretty hard to mess up your helmet like that. Are your comms busted?”

“Yeah,” Shiro muttered, looking over at Lance to try and assess his condition. It was hard to focus, to pick out the details. “Are you okay?” he asked instead. “Tell… tell me where you got hit.”

“I'm fine, Shiro,” Lance said, watching him carefully. “Are you—”

“Fine,” Shiro answered automatically.

“Let me check you over,” Lance said quietly. “You’re a mess. I came down here as quick as I could, but I had to land somewhere else so I wouldn’t draw attention to you. You scared me, you idiot.” Shiro realized he probably did look like a mess. That he was worrying Lance…

Shiro blinked. “Draw attention to me?” Had they been in a fight? Were they still?

“Yeah. How are you feeling?” Lance asked. “Where are you hurt?”

“I don’t know,” Shiro admitted. “Just… a lot.”

Lance carefully pulled off Shiro’s helmet, and Shiro relaxed with a sigh. The pressure against his skull had been making everything worse. “Man, this thing is completely busted,” Lance murmured, examining it. “I’d hate to think…”

“Of what might’ve happened if I wasn’t wearing it?” Shiro asked dryly. “I’d definitely be unconscious, maybe the head trauma would’ve—”

“Shiro,” Lance interjected, “you’re really starting to worry me. Come on, man, are you always like this?”

Shiro started to say no, he wasn’t, thank you very much—then remembered that it was a terrible lie. “... Yeah, pretty much. I usually try not to show it around you guys.”

“Yeah, well that’s bullshit,” Lance muttered. “You don’t have to hide anything from us. Whether it’s very poorly-timed jokes, or stuff about your year, or anything else… we’re here for you, you know that? We aren’t leaving.”

They weren’t leaving? Everyone left. Even Ulaz—

“I’ve planted a bomb to cover your escape.”

“I’m going to take it down from the inside!”

“Earth needs you. We all do.”

“Voltron is too valuable. The universe needs—”

“Shiro, come on, come back,” Lance said, pulling him out of his thoughts. “You alright?”

“I was just… thinking,” Shiro sighed.

“About what?” Lance pressed softly. “If you don’t want to talk, say so and I’ll stop asking, but don’t do it because you think I can’t handle it.”

Shiro grimaced. “I just… it’s a bit hard for me to wrap my head around that.”

“Around what?”

“That you’re not going to disappear.” And maybe it was a stupid idea to say that, but he was too exhausted to try and filter everything.

“Why would we do that?” Lance asked.

“I can think of a few reasons,” Shiro answered flatly. “I’m just… well aware of how easily life ends. And you’re all so young, you’ve got your whole lives ahead of you…”

“You’re only a few years older than me,” Lance reminded him. “You’re pretty young, too. You’re, what, twenty-two?”

“Something like that.” Truth be told, Shiro had no idea. It sounded about right.

“You’ve got your life ahead of you, too,” Lance insisted. “You’re not on death row, or anything like that. We’re gonna get you home.”

Shiro hummed. “Gotcha.”

Lance nodded, satisfied to let it go for now. “Good. We’ll talk later, but… later. Can you sit up? We should get your back checked out.”

Lance watched as Shiro struggled to push himself up, quickly moving in to help hold him steady. He hissed at the sight of Shiro’s back. “Dude,” he murmured. “Doesn’t that hurt?”

Shiro blinked slowly. “Doesn’t what hurt?”

Lance sucked in a breath. Take it easy, calm down. Be honest. “Your back’s all torn up. Probably where that blood came from, considering it’s all under you. Let’s get you on your feet, yeah? We should move.”

“Why?”

“We need to get those injuries wrapped up,” Lance said. They were being followed. He'd drawn them to his location when he yelled for Shiro, and now they needed to move. The Lions’ particle barriers would keep them safe for the time being, but Shiro and Lance didn't have that protection.

Shiro nodded, grimacing as Lance helped him stand. He hissed in pain, and Lance murmured a quick apology as they hobbled away from the area. Lance was careful to make sure Shiro put as little weight as possible on his ankle, but it was unfortunately impossible to avoid.

“Whassat?” Shiro murmured, looking around the bushes. “Smells like… peppermint.”

“Must be one of the plants.” Lance didn’t let Shiro sit down until they were far away from the patrolling sentries, kneeling down in front of him.

“Alright, Shiro, I'm gonna look at those cuts, okay?”

“‘Kay.” Lance carefully pulled the wrecked armor off of Shiro’s body, setting it aside. He hummed a quiet tune as he worked, mostly to keep himself calm. Some of the pieces were harder to pull off, but he hopefully managed while causing Shiro minimal pain.

Once the armor was all removed, he spoke again. “Shiro? You with me?”

“Yeah,” Shiro murmured. “‘Sup?” The walk clearly hadn't done him any good. Lance glanced up at the path, which was speckled with red and their footsteps. Well, that was a trail if he’d ever seen one. But Shiro couldn’t go any further without being treated.

“I need to pull your shirt off in order to treat this properly. Is that okay?” Shiro nodded, but Lance lightly tapped his shoulder. “I need you to keep talking. Don't go all nonverbal on me.”

Shiro blinked up at Lance. “Oh. Sorry.”

Lance shook his head. “Don't apologize. Can I take your shirt off to treat these?”

Shiro frowned, hesitating. For one horrifying moment, Lance thought he'd decline. Without getting the cuts treated, he'd eventually bleed out or die of infection. “... Yeah,” he said finally.

Lance nearly sighed in relief, carefully working the top half of the undersuit off of Shiro’s shoulders and arm until it bunched around his waist. He unclipped the Blue Lion’s med kit from his belt and set it on the floor, flipping the lid. His helmet identified the correct bottle and he removed it from the box, along with a clean rag.

“Okay, Shiro,” Lance warned, “this is gonna hurt. It's gonna burn, but we have to clean these out. They've all got dirt inside, and it'll be a bitch if they get infected.”

“... Got it.” Shiro closed his eyes, bracing himself. Lance hated to cause Shiro more pain, but it had to be done. He wouldn't let Shiro die out here.

“Three, two, one,” Lance murmured, pressing the rag to Shiro’s back shortly after. Shiro stiffened, hissing sharply, but Lance methodically scrubbed the wounds clean, being careful not to reinfect them with the dirty cloth.

He wiped away the excess blood that had traveled down to Shiro’s waist before grabbing the roll of bandages, wrapping the cuts around his torso. He had a bit of trouble figuring out the right amount of pressure, but luckily the cuts had mostly stopped bleeding by now.

Lance examined Shiro’s left arm, carefully cleaning the scrapes there. With the exception of a cut on his bicep, nothing needed to be covered, so he wrapped the one cut before moving back into Shiro’s field of vision.

“Hey, Shiro,” Lance tried to sound cheerful. “Can you look up at me?” Shit, how did he check for a concussion again? Shiro’s eyes met his, and Lance carefully looked him over. His eyes looked clear, and he had been talking clearly enough… was Shiro already experiencing the effects of blood loss? It hadn't been that long, had it?

Shiro frowned, his eyes scanning Lance‘s face. Lance wrapped his arms around Shiro’s neck and pulled him into a hug, closing his eyes. It'd only been a few hours since the initial crash, but they were both exhausted. Still, Lance wasn't sure if Shiro should be sleeping while he was in this state.

Shiro wrapped his left arm around Lance’s back, his right dangling uselessly at his side. Lance took a moment to calm himself down before pulling back to look at what remained of Shiro’s Galra prosthetic.

Lance wasn't an engineer by any standards. He still only needed one look to tell that the prosthetic was beyond repairing, at least not without serious work that he wasn't capable of (even if he had the right tools, which he didn't).

He hadn’t seen any pieces large enough to salvage where he'd found Shiro, and hoped the Galra never found it in all of the snow and ice.

“S’busted,” Shiro murmured, as if it wasn't obvious.

“We’re gonna get it fixed up at the Castle,” Lance promised, “but it's getting dark. We should find a safe place to rest for the night.”

Shiro frowned, glancing around at their surroundings. Lance followed his gaze, his stomach doing a flip when he looked back at Shiro, who was shivering hard. Oh, shit. Maybe it wasn’t blood loss. Maybe Shiro was experiencing hypothermia. Maybe it was both—an extremely dangerous combination. He should've never taken the armor off. Even if the thermal regulation was shot, the extra layers were shielding him from the cold. But then he wouldn’t have been able to treat the cuts, which would’ve led to severe blood loss or infection.

“Shit,” Lance hissed. They needed to get out of the cold, like, yesterday. How could he have overlooked that? “Shiro, hey, look at me.”

“Lance?” Shiro looked dazed. Wow, Lance was really bad at remembering symptoms. Shivering was definitely one, he thought he remembered something about speech? And… something about a pulse. Weak pulse? That sounded right. He lightly pressed two fingers to Shiro’s throat, searching for his pulse. It was difficult to find at first, and definitely not as strong as it should be.

Well, it turned out paying attention during those Garrison first aid classes would pay off. The only problem was he couldn’t really lift Shiro. Shiro was too heavy, which made trying to get him somewhere with little movement near impossible.

To make things worse, Lance could hear the faint sound of something approaching. The steps thudded softly against the snow, measured and mechanical.

He gritted his teeth, ready to fight here if it came down to it. He wasn't going to let them get Shiro. He needed a way to drag Shiro out of the forest and find a cave to hide in. It would get them out of the wind, and the few inches of snow on the ground wouldn't be quite as high.

Other than the footsteps steadily approaching, the area was silent. The silence carried an air of oppression, dampening and warping the sound waves. As the sentries got closer, their steps sounded less like steps and more like a cacophony of metal, scraping and grinding. How many sentries were on their way? Was the group only sentries?

Shiro tried to get to his feet, his heart thundering in his chest, but Lance pushed him back down. “No,” Lance hissed. “You need to take it easy.”

“They're coming,” Shiro murmured. “Coming… next fight.” He almost looked resigned, though Lance could see the barely contained fear behind the exterior.

Lance’s heart shattered. “Shiro, no, I'm not letting that happen. You're safe, remember? You're a badass Paladin of Voltron.” He chuckled, the sound coming out watery. “We were so happy when we found you, you know? And we love you. I… you're family.”

Shiro frowned. “Family?”

“Family,” Lance agreed. “And the others are waiting for us to come home. So you gotta stay with me, okay?”

Shiro grimaced. “They're coming.”

“They are.” They needed a solution, some way he could move Shiro without hurting him. But they didn't have time. The sentries would cross over that hill any moment, and they'd be screwed.

They didn't have a choice. Lance squeezed his eyes shut, taking a deep breath. When he opened them again, Shiro was still watching him.

“I'm sorry,” he told Shiro. “This is gonna really, really suck. But we really can't stay here.” He slipped an arm under Shiro’s knees and another behind his back, wincing at the pained sound Shiro made as he struggled to lift him. Shiro was heavy. It probably had to do with the hunk of metal attached to him (despite how broken it was, it was still mostly metal), but even without it he would've been hard to lift.

Lance barely managed to pick Shiro up into his arms, straining himself from the weight. The emergency pack and first aid kit hung at his waist, but the broken pieces of armor were still littered across the ground. They wouldn't do them any good. He carried Shiro through the trees, his arms protesting from the strain.

“Put… down,” Shiro murmured, his head resting on Lance’s shoulder.

“Not a chance.”

They walked a few hundred feet until the sentries’ footsteps faded, and Lance brought Shiro into the nearest cave. They went deep inside, and Lance didn't set Shiro down until they were safe. Then he nearly collapsed, his arms and legs shaking so bad that one might think he was the one suffering from hypothermia.

Fire, fire, he needed a fire. Something to help warm Shiro, or else he wouldn't survive. A quick search of the cave revealed a few pieces of something similar to wood. He carefully arranged them in a circle, fumbling for the fire starter. A quick drag sparked the flame, burning the lighter material before it spread to the heavier pieces.

The flames burned a bright green, but what mattered was the heat it gave off. Lance sighed in relief, pulling the emergency blanket out of the pack and carefully wrapping it around Shiro. Lance placed a water container over the fire, allowing the contents inside to heat up while he tried to make the cave safer.

Here, they were isolated from the wind, which made it several degrees warmer already. He rummaged through the pack, pulling out a short knife. He wasn't Keith, but the blade would be incredibly useful.

He tucked it inside his belt for now, checking on the water. The warmth radiated from the fire and from the water container.

“Alright, Shiro, think you can sit up?” Lance asked. “I'll help you.”

“Don't need,” Shiro murmured, struggling to push himself up on his own. His arm gave out and he would've fallen right down if not for Lance’s arms holding him steady.

“Take it easy,” Lance warned, supporting Shiro’s weight. He carefully pressed the water container into Shiro’s hand, making sure the heat wouldn't burn after being exposed to the cold for so long. “Take small sips, okay? If you chug it all, it won't warm you up.”

While Shiro drank the water, Lance pulled off his helmet. He pulled off the side panel like Hunk had shown him, exposing the wiring inside. The light of the fire allowed him to see the wire knocked out of place, and he was grateful that it was only one wire as he plugged it back in. He didn't know what the wires did, really, so if two of them had been out he wouldn’t know where to put them.

He slipped his helmet back on and static buzzed in his ear, to which he grinned. The signal might not be great, but now they had a signal.

“Alright, looks like we’ve got a semi-working mic.” Lance glanced over at Shiro, who seemed to be doing a bit better. He didn't look quite so dazed, but the effects were still there. “Try and get some rest, okay? You need it. The others are gonna be here before you know it.” Before Lance could stop himself, he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to Shiro’s forehead. “Rest easy. I’ll keep you safe.”

Shiro fell asleep fairly quickly, which was worrying in itself. Lance tucked the blanket a bit tighter around Shiro, trying to keep the cold out. The green fire still burned brightly, lighting the cave with a flickering emerald light. They needed to find a way back to their lions, and fast.

Lance didn't know when he fell asleep, but when he woke up something shifted next to him. He jumped to his feet, bayard flashing to his hand, and before he was fully aware he had the barrel trained on the source of the movement.

Shiro stared back at him, his eyes wide in a moment of clarity. “Lance?”

The blue rifle vanished as Lance kneeled down in front of Shiro, grimacing. He could’ve seriously injured Shiro if he hadn’t hesitated before firing… “Hey. How are you feeling?”

“I… still hazy.” Shiro closed his eyes, resting his head against the wall of the cave. Emerald light flickered across his face, making the whole situation look like something out of a horror movie. The cave entrance remained dark, which was good, though the early light of day had begun to slowly creep in. Lance couldn’t hear the sentries anymore, which was a huge relief compared to the panic of the previous night. His muscles still ached from the strain of carrying Shiro, and his injuries hadn’t exactly healed, but none of it was anything worse than superficial.

“Alright, you think you can focus on me for a little bit?” Lance asked. “We’ve gotta change your bandages while we’ve got time.” Shiro blinked slowly but nodded, his dull eyes on Lance.

Lance carefully shifted Shiro, reluctantly pulling off the blanket and setting it aside. Lance grimaced at the sight of the dirty bandages, unraveling them and tossing the bundle aside. He hissed out a curse when he noticed that some of the dirt had made it through the bandages and around the cuts. “Shiro, I’m really sorry about this, but we’ve gotta clean these again.”

Shiro nodded, and Lance wiped down his back with the disinfectant just like they’d done the previous night. It was difficult, knowing he was causing Shiro pain, but it had to be done or else things would just get worse. “Alright, the good news is that these mostly stopped bleeding, so that takes care of that issue… just gotta wrap these up again.”

One good thing was that the bandages stayed secure around Shiro’s torso but didn’t inhibit his movements or breathing any, which was a definite plus over Earth bandages. Lance remembered one time his brother had tried to use bandages around his chest and ended up going to the emergency room to have them cut off because he could barely breathe.

“And done,” Lance said, wrapping the blanket around Shiro’s shoulders again. Once it was back in place, Lance picked up another piece of the not-wood and tossed it into the fire to keep it burning.

His helmet buzzed and crackled in his ear, and Lance furrowed his brows as it shifted in pitch and volume. It hadn’t done that before. Were the others on their way?

“—iro! It… idge! La—!”

Lance started, trying to listen to the sounds filtering through the static. “Pidge! Pidge, is that you?”

“—kay— Galra— near—ation…”

“Pidge, I'm not getting anything clear. Where are you?”

“—way— soon. St��� afe!”

“Pidge, what's going on?”

Static.

Lance swore, pulling his helmet off and making sure the side panel was still secure. He then put it back on, turning down the volume of the static in his ears.

He sighed. “Hang in there, Shiro. They're on their way, yeah? And then we’ll get you all treated and healed. Just keep your eyes on me.”

“Got it,” Shiro murmured.

“Alright, let's see… you think you can stand on your own? We should find a new place, we’re gonna get found here soon enough.”

Something exploded at the entrance of the cave. Lance ducked over Shiro as the rocks shifted and fell, effectively blocking their way out and cutting off their source of outside light. Thankfully, nothing landed on top of them, but Lance still felt the spike of ice cold fear in his chest at the thought of what could've happened.

“What was that?” Shiro murmured, looking over at the new rock barricade.

“I'm not sure,” Lance admitted in a low voice. “I don't know if that was done to keep us in or out. Stay quiet.”

Mechanical footsteps clicked overhead, growing in number and volume. Underneath Lance, Shiro shuddered, his breathing picking up. Lance grimaced, wrapping his arms around Shiro’s neck gently. “It’s gonna be okay,” he murmured. “We’ll be okay. I'm not gonna let them get you.”

Shiro nodded, though he still looked dazed. Thankfully, he wasn't shivering quite as hard, and a quick check showed a stronger pulse, but he wasn't out of the danger yet. “Is there a… another way?”

“Another way out? I'm not sure. There might not be.” Lance got to his feet and tossed another piece of the not-wood into the fire, leaving them with one piece left. “This fire’s gonna run out of wood soon.”

Shiro blinked, confused. “The Galra are… basically at our door and… you're focused on fire?”

“You’ve still got symptoms of hypothermia. Besides, it's gonna take them a few minutes to bust through that. A lot of rocks fell, guess they didn't think that through.

“I mean, seriously, who does that? What a horrible plan, that's not how you do an ambush. You know, the whole ‘surprise’ thing is important. It's crazy, though I guess whoever’s outside isn't all that smart. Matches most of Zarkon’s commanders, you know?” Lance kept up a steady stream of quiet chatter as the Galra broke through the rock wall, mostly to remind Shiro he wasn't alone.

“And most of his actually smart ones are now dead in space or otherwise, courtesy of a Voltron butt-kicking!” Shiro chuckled at that, some of the tension unwinding from his shoulders, so Lance kept going. “You’d think Zarkon could find better-looking ones, too, but I mean the only one who's even been remotely attractive was Lotor, and that's—ugh.” He made a face, causing Shiro to snort.

Lance took Shiro’s hand, winding their fingers together. He squeezed lightly, smiling when Shiro hesitantly squeezed back. “Pidge and Keith and Hunk are all gonna swoop in like badasses at the last second, ‘cause that's just how they are, and it’s gonna be super awesome. And then we can get back to the Castle and Allura’ll create a wormhole and then we’ll be away from here.”

The rock wall finally fell apart, scattering throughout the cave as one knocked over the makeshift fire pit. Lance got to his feet, the knife from the emergency kit gripped tightly in his hand. He wasn't a melee fighter by any standards, but he wasn't going to let them get Shiro without a fight. He charged forward with a shout, his shield forming on his left wrist as he struck with his right.

Dozens of sentries waited outside, if the loud mechanical whirring was anything to go by, but thanks to the cave-in they couldn't all rush in at once. Lance took the small advantage for what it was, working as quickly as possible to dispatch the sentries before more could flood in. Their numbers seemed almost endless, two more replacing every one he destroyed. Sparking wires and dead sentries scattered the floor in a rough pile, almost creating a blockade of their own.

But Lance could only hold out for so long, as much as he wished he could do more. His swings became slower, his shield couldn't block quite as much, and he backed himself into a corner as the sentries began to get the upper hand. He swung the knife wildly, exhaustion making his limbs heavy. But Lance was still between Shiro and the Galra. He wasn't going to let them get Shiro, not as long as he was still able to destroy the robots in front of him.

A few minutes later, one of them got in a lucky shot on his side. Lance shouted in pain, coughing and wheezing, and the newly-arrived commander easily knocked him to the ground. The knife clattered to the ground and the translucent shield vanished as Lance pressed a hand to the mark there. It was just a burn, thankfully, but it still hurt like hell and made it difficult to get up.

"Lance!"

Shiro scooped the knife off of the ground, looking shaky on his feet and unbalanced with only one working arm. But he charged forward anyway, meeting the commander head on. Lance gritted his teeth and materialized his bayard, firing at the sentries still in the cave as Shiro fought. Shiro grunted above him, likely receiving as many hits as he was giving, but Lance had his job and he needed to do it. This was the best way he could help Shiro right now—Shiro stood no chance with all of these sentries around.

The metal scraps on the ground made it hard to maneuver, hard to fight. Shiro hit the ground harshly and cried out, barely keeping his grip on the knife but having trouble getting to his feet with one arm.

The last sentry fell, the cave falling into silence. The commander approached Shiro, his expression murderous, and Lance trained his bayard on the Galra.

Inhale. He took a deep breath, following the commander's movements as he leaned down.

Exhale. His finger found the trigger, gently resting on it.

Fire. Lance pulled the trigger.

The commander fell—thankfully not on top of Shiro—and clashed horribly with one of the sentries. Lance couldn't find it in him to feel apologetic.

Shiro blinked, turning his head to look over. "Lance—"

Lance gave him a thumbs up, his bayard disappearing as he forced himself to his feet. "I told you, didn't I? I wasn't gonna let them get you."

The smile he got in return was small but genuine. Shiro released the knife and Lance pulled Shiro to his feet, taking some of his weight. The embers of emerald flame flickered weakly before extinguishing, leaving the cave in near perfect darkness.

That was how the team found them, hobbling out of the cave with Shiro’s left arm draped over Lance’s shoulders.

Everything after that passed as a blur. They were taken back to the Castle while the others grabbed Blue and Black, and both Lance and Shiro were put into healing pods to treat their wounds.

It felt like only a moment later that Lance awoke and stumbled out of his pod, only to be pulled into a tight hug courtesy of Hunk. Lance’s teammates were like a big party, loud but welcoming, and yet he found himself looking over at Shiro’s pod through it all. Shiro already looked much better, sleeping peacefully behind the pod’s translucent front panel.

Lance spent most of his time in the pod room, keeping Shiro company while he rested. Sometimes he talked to the air, sometimes he paced, sometimes he just sat there as if he could see Shiro get better with each passing tick. Shiro was supposed to be getting out of the pod today, a thought confirmed as the others began to trickle into the med bay. Lance stood as they gathered around, and shortly after the last person—Allura, having been finding a safe location for the Castle to hide—arrived, the pod slid open.

Shiro fell forward, and Lance reached out to catch him. Keith also reached out, and together they helped Shiro to his feet. Then the hugs started, and the shouting, but Lance was content to stay out of it. It was great to see Shiro feeling better, it really was, but now that everyone was really safe he couldn’t stop thinking about everything he’d done on Krishna Five.

He’d caused Shiro so much pain, allowing the bandages to get dirty and forcing him to fight for his life while injured and sick. He’d promised, and yet Shiro had had to fight anyway. Lance could've done more, maybe he could've found them a cave with more than one exit. How had he not even considered that?

Later, he promised himself, he’d talk to Shiro. They could work things out without the rest of the team hovering over their shoulders, listening to their every word.

Missions became more frequent, leaving the paladins with little alone time. A week after they were rescued from Krishna Five, Lance still hadn’t found the chance to talk to Shiro.

He ended up avoiding Shiro during group sessions, not wanting to start the conversation in front of everyone. It was hard avoiding him sometimes—Lance didn’t realize just how much time they spent together until he tried to avoid someone—but he managed where he could. At the very least, he could make sure he wouldn’t be caught alone with Shiro.

He wanted to talk to Shiro, he really did, but the thought of the others overhearing the conversation and knowing what Lance had done made his heart skip a beat and his palms slick with sweat. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to breathe, and when he opened them again he froze.

Lance expected to be alone, not to see Shiro looking at him with something almost regret. Lance almost understood for a moment, though the sting is still there.

“... Lance,” Shiro murmured, “can we talk?”

“We’re talking right now,” Lance answered.

“About what happened on Krishna Five. I understand if you don't want to tell the others, but please at least talk to me.” Shiro’s eyes were sad and the corners of his mouth turned downwards. “I don't want to see you hurt like this.”

Lance stared. Shiro, the king of saying ‘everything’s just fine’ while everything crumbles, wanted to tell him to talk? What a hypocrite.

“I just… wanted to say thank you,” Shiro continued anyway, smiling softly. “You really came through back there. If you hadn’t been there, I’d be dead or a Galra prisoner.”

“That's why I went after you,” Lance said. “I saw you go down and all your systems were offline, so I went after you, but I took a hit on the way down and ended up also crashing. I… I'm sorry I couldn't do more for you. I mean, your arm is still broken.”

Shiro shook his head. “Lance, you saved my life. You're not an engineer, you're a pilot. Same as me. We’ll just leave it to Pidge, Hunk, and Coran. They know what they're doing. But my point is, I’d take a busted prosthetic over being dead or captured. You can't fix everything by yourself. That's what you've got us for.”

Lance scowled. There Shiro went, doing it again. “You’re such a hypocrite!” he snapped. Shiro’s eyes widened, but Lance barreled on before he could interrupt. “You give us all these talks saying how we need to open up and talk about what's bothering us, but none of us have seen you ever do it.

“It's because you're scared, isn't it? Scared that we’ll disappear just like you said so you keep your distance to avoid getting hurt. But you're still getting hurt because you bury everything down inside you and soon you're going to explode. It's ridiculous that you think we’re just going to up and leave at any moment, or be scared of you if you tell us things.

“It’s bullshit.” Lance stepped forward, closing the distance between them and putting a finger on Shiro’s chest. Shiro looked astonished, his eyes wide and lips slightly parted. “I'm not scared of you. You're our teammate, our awesome leader, and sure you've done some dark shit but haven't we all at this point? Nobody’s gonna suddenly change their opinion of you because you, say, made someone die slowly or tore them apart in the arena. It wasn't your choice.”

“It was—”

Lance kept going. “It wasn't your choice, because if you didn't fight you would've been killed. We trust you and we love you so, so much but it feels like you're on the other side of a wall sometimes. And God, I just want to get to know you. Not Shiro the Leader, not Shiro the Black Paladin or Shiro the Pilot of the Kerberos Mission. I want to know who Shiro is. When's your birthday, what's your favorite color, what's something stupid you did as a kid. That kinda stuff. If you say we’re your team, then trust us to be able to listen to you. You do on the field, so why not now? You're important, too. Remember that.”

Shiro stared for a moment before answering. “I was born on February 29th. My favorite color is blue. When I was younger, I climbed up a tree and would spend hours up there pretending it was a treehouse or a rocket to take me to another world.” A smile tugged at his lips, making him look adorable. “I was a weird kid.”

“Dude, everyone does that. But I appreciate that you're trying to open up. You can trust us. We’re all way too stubborn to let you go, anyway.” Lance grinned before it fell with a sigh. “Just think about it, okay?”

Shiro smiled gently. “I will. Thank you, Lance. Now, about Krishna Five…”

Lance shook his head. “Not now. Later. For now, think about what we just talked about.”

Shiro snorted. “More like you talked and I listened.”

“See, there's the spirit!”

Shiro laughed. “Alright, alright. Not now. Besides, the others are probably wondering where we went by now.”

“Yeah, probably.” Lance stretched. “Sorry for kinda… exploding at you. It's just… you were dying and all you cared about is if I was okay. I can't… we can't listen to you fading like that.”

Shiro nodded. “I got it. I'm not going to be upset with you for saying what you want to say. I'll try to talk to you guys more.”

Lance smiled. “That's all I'm asking. Thank you, Shiro.” He carefully wrapped his arms around Shiro, minding the sling that held his prosthetic, and held him close. Shiro stiffened for a moment before relaxing, leaning into the contact, and Lance didn't pull away for a while.

On their way back to the others, Lance cautiously slipped his hand into Shiro’s and gently squeezed it. Shiro returned the squeeze, both of them looking pointedly ahead and not at each other.

Shiro let go before they entered the lounge, to Lance’s slight disappointment, but they joined the conversation easily. While they talked, Lance wondered what thoughts were running through Shiro’s head right now. What did he think about all of this?

The others were talking about something with Shiro’s arm, so Lance tuned out the technical talk. He vaguely heard something about it needing to be rebuilt, and felt Shiro stiffen next to him, but he poked Shiro’s side and stuck his tongue out when Shiro looked over. Lance laughed and Shiro chuckled, his eyes fond.

“You guys are so gross,” Pidge complained. “Can you make heart eyes another time?”

They both looked at her, confused, before locking eyes again and smiling. Keith chucked a pillow at Shiro’s head and it knocked him forward into Lance’s arms. Lance grinned and wrapped his arms around Shiro, holding him close.

“Alright,” Shiro laughed after a moment. “Can I get up?”

Lance hummed in consideration. “Hmm. Nope. Not yet.” His hand idly reached up to card through Shiro’s hair, and despite his complaint Shiro made no attempt to move. His head rested on Lance’s leg, his eyes gently shut. He wasn’t asleep though, so Lance kept lightly massaging Shiro’s scalp until his breathing evened out.

Over the next few days, Shiro had the broken prosthetic surgically removed and got fitted for a new one. Lance volunteered to stick by Shiro’s side, helping him out whenever necessary, and slowly Shiro opened his heart for Lance. Lance opened his own heart, and together they became intertwined.

On days when Shiro’s dark thoughts threatened to drag them down, Lance stayed with him and helped Shiro work through it. Unfortunately, Lance couldn’t make Shiro forget or erase that trauma from his mind. Shiro wasn’t going to magically get better and be able to live without his demons in his shadows.

But Lance did what he could to make Shiro’s days brighter and better, and it made the bad days easier to get through. It sucked that they had needed to be stranded on a planet together in order to bond, but Lance wouldn’t change a thing.

Shiro was beautiful. Lance wanted to make sure Shiro knew it.

So, one day, while they were alone and idly chatting, Lance told Shiro everything. Shiro had been surprised, but quietly confessed he felt the same way. It wasn’t necessarily like the movies. They didn’t confess and then everything became magical and amazing. They didn’t even kiss on that day, just sat a little closer.

Lance was perfectly okay with that. They discussed boundaries and what they were comfortable with, and when Shiro had said he’d prefer to take it slow Lance was happy to oblige.

The day they finally kissed was a few weeks later, and it made everything worth it.

A few years later, after the war ended and the universe no longer needed Voltron, the two lovers exchanged their vows on the altar. Shiro had rested his forehead against Lance and whispered a few words meant only for Lance, and Lance leaned up to kiss him. He didn’t need to say how he felt out loud, transferring it into the passion and love in his actions and his eyes.

Neither of them would change it for the world.

That day, they became truly intertwined.

[ficdirectory]

Blink (An AU Fosters family fic) Chapter 22

CHAPTER 22

Lena sits as close as she dares to Jesus, careful not to disturb the blanket.  She and Stef have made sure to look over his boundaries daily, to be sure they are fresh in both of their minds before the day starts.  She knows if she moves the blanket before Jesus has consented, it will feel like a violation, and she needs him feeling safe right now, not the opposite.

When Stef leaves with Frankie, Jude, Mariana, Callie and Brandon, Lena gets to work, trying to elicit a response from her son.

“You’re safe, Jesus,” she says.  “I know you thought you saw Him last night, okay?  And I understand that you probably felt incredibly afraid.  But He is not here.  I am.  Okay?  It’s just me and you right now.  So you can talk to me.”

She waits.

Nothing.

“Jesus?  Can you hear me?” she asks.  “I need you to answer me.  I need to hear your voice to know that you’re safe under there.”

Lena gives him five full seconds.  They are some of the longest in recent memory.  She hates to have to do what she’ll have to do next, but she is his mother.  She has to be sure he’s okay.

“Jesus. I need you to listen to me.  I respect your boundaries.  That’s why I haven’t moved this blanket while I’ve talked to you.  But since I haven’t heard from you, I need to move the blanket now to check on you and make sure you’re safe.  I need to see you.  Do you understand?  I’m not going to touch you, but I need to see you.”

She waits another five seconds, for this to sink in.

Then: “I’m going to pull this blanket back,” she nudges it, so it billows.  So Jesus will know where she’s coming from, and won’t be too surprised.  She pulls the blanket back.

He is a lump under more blankets.  Even his face is covered.  All that’s visible is his hair.  But based on his breathing, Lena’s sure he is awake.

“I need you to move your blanket off your face, Jesus,” she says calmly.  “I need to see you.”

Five seconds.  He doesn’t move.

“I’m going to take the blanket off your face, so I can see you,” she says.

She waits again.  Then pulls it back.

His eyes are open.  He blinks at her slowly, life coming back into them.

“I need you to come out from under the table now.  You need to eat breakfast,” she says, trying to keep her voice calm and not let it shake with emotion.

She watches him take a breath.  Stop just short of words.

“What is it, Jesus?  I’m listening.”

“I’m stuck.”

His voice is a soft monotone.  His eyes searching hers for answers.  For help.  For understanding.

For a moment, Lena feels the same.  For a moment, she has no idea how to proceed.  Jesus is big for sixteen, far bigger than she herself is.  And she wouldn’t feel good trying to handle him physically, especially after seeing the disastrous effect that had Monday night.  It’s a huge part of why she’s sent everyone else out.  She knows she needs to lower the stress for him.  She doesn’t want a repeat of that night.  Knows Jesus doesn’t either.

She has to reach back years in her mental files to find a context for this.  To remember that yes, she does know how to help him through this.  It had taken patience, clarity, and being deliberate about every action she was going to take.  It meant accepting and responding to his nonverbal cues as legitimate communication.

“I’m going to put my hand out.  When you’re ready, I want you to take it, and I’ll help you come out.”

She watches his eyes.  How intently he tracks her hand.  How he stays focused on it for agonizing minutes until, finally, he shifts under the blankets and withdraws a hand.  Takes hers.

Slowly, she guides him out, stopping him short of sitting on the floor out here.  “Stand up, love.  You’re doing great.”

He does.  

She makes him what she can with one hand - the other still holding his.  Toaster waffles.  With butter and syrup.  A glass of orange juice.  (Lena’s convinced he needs the sugar.)  She leads him to the living room.  To the chair he took previously, before Jesus made his boundary list. She sits on the same footstool.  Offers him the plate, but he won’t take it.  Sets the glass on the table beside his chair.

“Are you still stuck, bud?” she wonders.

He swallows.  Nods.

“Okay.  I understand.  And I’m not mad.  Can I help you?” she asks.

Jesus shrugs.

“Honey, if you mean that, I need to hear a yes.  I need to know you’re not just telling me what I want to hear.  I respect you, and I respect your boundaries.”

“Yes,” he croaks.  “It’s okay if you help me.”

First, she offers him the glass of juice, which he tries to take but it shakes in his hands.  She’s there to steady it.

He takes a tiny sip.

She offers it again and again until she guesses he’s gotten at least a good-sized swallow into him.  Then, Lena goes to work offering him bites of waffles.  These, he does eat.

When he finally finishes them and the orange juice, he seems better.  More present.

“How are you now, Jesus?” Lena checks.

“Better.  Thanks.  Thank you for helping me...and not freaking out…”

“I always want to help you, sweetie.  Was that enough to eat, or do you need more?”

“Not sure,” he says.

“Those waffles are small.  Let’s get you another and some more orange juice.” Lena decides.

“Okay,” he nods.

This time, he’s able to eat on his own, so Lena just sits back and tries not to watch him too closely.

When he’s done, she asks if he needs to talk.  “With the party last night, there were a lot of changes in routine,” she offers.  “I remember that those can make you nervous, and I want you to know you’re not in trouble.  Mom and I understand the cleaning was a stress-response.  And we understand why you needed to go to Pearl’s.”

“Yeah,” Jesus nods.  “It helped that you didn’t yell.”

“That makes sense,” Lena nods.  “Do you need anything else?  Do you need anything to be different?” she checks.

“The same…” he hedges.

“I’m sorry?” she asks.

“I don’t need things to be different, I need them to be the same,” he clarifies.

“Ah,” Lena smiles.  “Well, why don’t we see if there’s any Cupcake Wars on right now, and in a couple hours, Mom and the kids will be back and we’ll have lunch.  Maybe some hot chocolate for you and the sledders?”

Jesus moves to the couch and pats the empty space next to him. Lays his head on her shoulder as she flips on the TV and quickly turns to the Food Network.  

Lena’s afraid to move, but she projects calm anyway.  Doesn’t want to scare him off.

“You know Pearl makes really good hot chocolate?”

“Does she?” Lena asks.

“Yeah.  On the stove.  With real milk and vanilla and fancy chocolate.”

“I did not know that.  Which is your favorite hot chocolate?  Ours from Christmas Eve with the candy canes, or Pearl’s?”

A soft laugh escapes:  “I don’t have a favorite, Mama.  It’s hot chocolate.  I even like the powdered stuff.  But if it won’t hurt your feelings, I did kinda like Pearl’s on the stove most.  But I liked the candy canes being in ours.”

“Good to know,” Lena responds.

They pass the time watching Cupcake Wars and imagining being a mother-son team there and what cupcakes they might bake together.  Over time, Lena’s recognized that talking about food (once he’s had food himself) is comforting for Jesus.  And he can talk about it exhaustively.

“I think chocolate’s good,” Jesus offers.  “For a cupcake flavor.”

“I’m sensing a theme here,” Lena teases gently.  “Okay.  So chocolate cupcakes.  Imagine we had to make the chocolatiest cupcakes ever.  Ones that stand out from all the rest.  What would you put in them?”

“Vanilla.  Maybe some crushed up candy canes like from the hot chocolate.  And some marshmallows. We could call it a hot chocolate cupcake.  You’d have to do decorations because I’m bad at those,” he offers.

“That sounds like a great recipe,” Lena encourages.  “You’re giving me a lot of baking ideas for when we go home.  Do you have ideas for decorations?”

“Mmm…  No…  I don’t care how it looks.  I’d eat ugly cupcakes.”

Lena laughs.  “I agree.  A cupcake’s a cupcake, right?”

Jesus nods.

They’re quiet for a while, watching the show and then Lena catches him looking over the back of the couch at the table, with the blankets still in place.

“What about the blankets?” he asks.

“What about them?” she wonders.

“Should they be picked up?  I mean...so we can eat lunch and have hot chocolate when they get back?”

“I can fold them for you, if you’re ready,” she offers.

“Not yet,” he says, surprising her.  “I like sitting like this and thinking of recipes.  Nobody else likes to do that with me.”

“Well, I’d be happy to brainstorm recipe ideas with you.  And maybe someday, when you’re more comfortable in the kitchen, we can bake Jesus’s famous hot chocolate cupcakes.

“Oh.  Don’t wait for me.  Seriously.  Cupcake Wars will be canceled by the time I feel okay in the kitchen...but I can bake cookies, so maybe cupcakes would be okay…” he ventures.

“Maybe...and trust me.  I’d never bake our cupcakes without you.”

“‘Cause we’re a team?” he checks.

“Absolutely.  We’re a team.  And you’re an important part of that.  I respect you, you know that?” Lena asks, because it’s important that she tells him now that he’s more present.

“Thank you.  I respect you, too,” he says softly.  His head is back on her shoulder.

“You’re safe here, just like at home.  Do you feel safe here?” Lena asks, curious.

“Not really.  That deer head...He had one, too.  So I don’t really like it.  It makes me feel lonely.”

Lena looks at the buck on the wall.  Hates that there are so many things that make Jesus nervous.  “I’m sorry.  Is there anything we can do with him that will make you feel safer?  Should we cover him up?”

“You can’t reach that,” Jesus reprimands lightly.

“No, but I could climb on a chair or something.  Would anything help?”

“Other than, like, taking it down, which wouldn’t make me feel any better ‘cause then it would be kinda closer to me and that’s not good.  Plus, Grandpa wouldn’t like it.  If we could just make it look different, though,” Jesus muses.

“Different like…” Lena thinks.  “Give it a name?  A hat?  What?”

Jesus shrugs.  “Not like funny, though.  I mean if we can make it not look like a deer head.  That would be ideal.”

“Well, let me think about it, and talk to Mom.  Is that okay?”

He nods.  “Yes.  I want her to know.  I want something different for that.”

“We’ll see what we can do.  If nothing else, I don’t think covering it up will hurt anything.  Then you and Frankie won’t have to see it.”

“That would be cool,” Jesus nods.  “I miss us talking like this.  You know we haven’t since like last year,” he jokes, but keeps a straight face, making Lena laugh.

“You don’t say,” she smiles.

“Doesn’t feel like it’s been that long, but then again.”

“But then again…” she echoes, her voice full of love and longing.  Because it’s never too far from her mind.  Those missing years with her son.  How once upon a time, the idea of sitting and talking to him like this was unthinkable.  “Can I give your head a kiss?”

“Yes,” he nods.  “It needs one,” he murmurs.

Lena presses her lips into his hair.  Tries to communicate every bit of her love for him in just this simple act.

It doesn’t come close.  But it’s a start.