#the prickliness of cats who should really be interacting through a bathroom door first

[ginneke]

already too late (if we arrive at all) - #2

we've got some exposition & lore coming up this time, whoo! but only a little bit. got to leave some for later.

should have mentioned last time -- the title of this fic/collection is from a Poets of the Fall song, "War". I rate this band so highly. their lyrics truly are poetry.

anyway. on to the fic.

--

Pairing: Revalink

Rating: T

(A soulmate AU, sort of.)

-- Prompt #2: you can do better than this --

The thing is this: these days, soulmarks are something of an oddity in Hyrule. The earliest recorded story claims they were a gift from the Goddess, to help fated lovers find each other – and to help them use the time they had together wisely. Whatever the truth of it, this much is known: they are most commonly found among the Hylians and Sheikah; seldom encountered among Gerudo and Zora; a mere peculiarity among the Gorons.

And never spoken of in the Rito histories.

Their only source of information regarding the marks stems from their Hylian neighbours, whose own knowledge of the myth is limited: nobody in Tabantha Village had been the subject of a soulmark in quite some time.

It wasn’t the sort of thing that happened anymore, they said.

So, Revali would argue – if indeed he was ever compelled to defend his purely scientific curiosity, which frankly needed no defending at all and would merely indicate unspeakable rudeness on the part of his hypothetical interrogator – so, it was only natural that he might hold some curiosity about the marks, and what they were supposed to mean. An idle interest, that was all, in—

“—just the most ridiculous, vacuous notion imaginable; I’m sure one could divine more accurate fortunes from a river-snail’s slime.”

Well. That.

“…Evocative,” Urbosa says, a glint of emotion Revali can’t decipher in her eyes. “Do go on.”

Her words have the weight of a trap behind them and, almost too late, Revali recalls the whispers. It’s enough to make him realise the comparative wisdom - for once - of silence.

“No?” Urbosa probes, and when Revali stays stubbornly silent she just smiles, and the quirk of her blue-painted mouth is a shimmer of mirage on the horizon, the curling danger of desert heat. “Should I take a guess, hmm?”

Mipha, who’d been looking down the path in hopes of seeing any of their fellow Champions approaching—not that it was likely; the three of them were all far too early to arrive at the proposed meeting-place, and would no doubt have endured in silence if not for Revali’s refusal to let the opportunity for answers pass him by—well, anyway, Mipha chooses that moment to look back at them with the same sharp huff of disapproval that Revali heard from her, and had endeavoured to ignore, at that dismal attempt at ceremony earlier. Of course she must have steel, to be chosen as a Champion, but still it takes him aback to be confronted by it so.

“Of all people,” says Mipha in that mild, reproachful voice of hers, “I would have thought you might speak of the marks with more respect, Lady Urbosa.”

Urbosa tips her head on one side — a remarkably Rito gesture, which makes Revali wonder if she’d once had friends among his tribe. She eyes Mipha, considering. “My apologies,” she says, in a voice just this side of sincere; “I forget how seriously the Zora regard these things.”

Revali glances between them. The Zora are strange, he reflects. In years, it’s possible that the Zora Princess is even Urbosa’s elder; yet in terms of lifespan, she’s far closer to his own peer. (In maturity, she surpasses them all: he’d think it the weight of a crown, yet their appointed leader is far from Mipha’s equal in that regard.)

And though Urbosa could overpower her with but a click of her fingers, Mipha stands firm and unyielding: allies, but not yet friends.

The same goes for all of them — except perhaps for Daruk, who seems to regard strangers as a friend he hasn’t met yet. But Daruk isn’t here, and after earlier, Revali is inclined to think of that as a good thing.

Instead, while Urbosa’s attention is drawn away by Mipha’s intercession, Revali cannot help but let his gaze dart down to the twist of flowers that ring a washed-out grey band around the Gerudo chieftain’s lower leg.

Brazenly brave of her to walk into Hyrule Castle with a proclamation inked upon her skin for all to see: that she, Urbosa — not King Rhoam — had been the soul-marked intended of the late, beloved Queen. He hadn’t heard of it until a day ago. It was something which had dominated whispers in certain quarters — whispers far more interesting than those he’d heard about other parties — and a question he’d quite forgotten to ask.

It had made him wonder…

“Do you… know somebody with a soulmark?” asks Mipha, giving up on playing lookout and walking across to where Revali is rooted to the spot, determined not to move lest he somehow betray his secret.

Something like that. He tells her so, as curtly as he can muster. Mipha looks at him like she can see straight through him regardless.

“Still,” she says, softly, “it is peculiar… The marks are so rare, these days, and yet…”

She shares a meaningful look with Urbosa, and doesn’t seem at all willing to give up her advantage just yet.

…He wonders. Even he knows that the marks are rare, and yet they’re the only thing she might be talking about. So. Something about the marks. Something about the Champions. Urbosa, obviously. As for the other…s, it definitely isn’t Mipha: none of her adornments are designed to conceal a soulmark, her red and cream scales unmarred by fate’s brand. It’s unlikely to be Daruk on probability alone, since the marks are supposedly so rare among Gorons. Which leaves the most predictable of possible soulbonds in all of the kingdom, trite and underwhelming.

The princess and her knight, of course. He starts to say it out loud, but trails off mid-sentence; Mipha is shaking her head with a look of utmost alarm on her face, her hands twisting in a plea for silence. Revali frowns.

“Not her, no,” Urbosa says in a low voice, “and you’d do well not to poke that courser hive. Particularly not here.”

Dinraal’s accursed flames, but Revali detests the doublespeak of Hyrule’s court and the knots it makes of people’s tongues.

(Much later on, he’ll realise — they didn’t deny that Link has a mark. The thought leaves him irritated. Fate really does favour that dull-witted knight.)

“Shouldn’t they be here by now?” Mipha says abruptly. She’s taken the opportunity to turn back to the path, and a faint crease of concern twists the corner of her mouth. “…I wonder if something has happened.”

If Revali were to hazard a guess, Hyrule’s princess is licking her wounds, her knight’s presence is salting them, and Daruk… Daruk is probably just lost.

“I’m sure everything is just fine,” Urbosa says, and there’s no spark of danger in her smile now. Only a languid warmth like she’s decided that Mipha and Revali are people she approves of.

Mipha shakes her head and turns back to him. “…How long?”

What.

She looks at him with mild reproach, waiting for an answer, and Revali rustles his feathers in annoyance, snaps out a defensive, “What?”

She explains, in more detail than he’s entirely ready to take in. He does his best to keep up anyway. Marks that unravel from gold to grey, threads that join souls together regardless of whether they’ve met before.

Threads that guarantee at least an encounter, it’s said, though it’s up to you to recognise them and Mipha can’t say how that works.

Threads that measure out the span of years allotted to your fated person.

Revali hadn’t known that. His wing twitches towards the wrapping that hides his soulmark from the world. How would one measure such a thing?

She hesitates. “…I can try,” she says, sounding unsure, uncertain, the steely confidence with which she’d faced down Urbosa draining away. “Or - a sage could say with more certainty, or — well, it’s said came from the Goddess Hylia originally, so maybe Princess Zelda…”

Revali thinks of what Urbosa said — best not poke that courser hive — and comes to a conclusion. Of the remaining options, Mipha’s the only person on that list who has earned his trust.

Mipha makes a soft noise of confusion as Revali gingerly pulls the covering away, exposing his soulmark to another’s eyes for the first time since he was young and childish and didn’t know better.

“…Oh.”

She doesn’t say anything else for a long time. It leaves Revali twitchy with agitation. “Well?” he snaps, eventually, and Mipha shakes herself out of her stupor.

“I’m sorry,” she says, and the words are a shock of cold against his auricles, creeping inside his head and draining slowly down into the hollows of his bones. Sorry — sorry for what? “I — I’m really not sure if I’m reading this well, but… I think it’s a century and a half? Maybe closer to two… The twists are so close together, I’m afraid I can’t really see them clearly, but…”

“Are you sure?”

She hesitates for a long while before saying, “…Yes.”

It narrows some things down. It leaves some things far more unsatisfactorily done, and casts a shadow over his mood through the rest of the day.

In almost five years, the only thing Revali has ever had from his supposed soulmate is silence.

—

You see, there’s been no suggestion in the long history of the Rito that any of them have ever been possessed of a soulmark: not the Cuho, nor the Torpa, nor any one of the wandering clans have ever mentioned such a thing; and the rarer the event, the more likely it would be to be commemorated in song and passed down with fine-tuned precision, sung to chicks in their eggs when their hatching was still far from certain.

Indeed, not even the ancient sage and her trickster prince were marked by destiny’s strings, the way Hylians so often were, and they are at the heart of several songs, passed on through generations.

So when an orphan fledgling — on a date far too close to the archery contest in which he’d hoped, at long last, to prove himself the victor — finds the indignity of his adult tailfeathers finally growing in marked, similarly, by the presence of a golden band forming against the grey of his scutes, it’s… beyond strange.

Nobody knows what to make of it.

Least of all Revali.

Early curiosity doesn’t last for long. Soon the mark is nothing but a silent brand, and he can only wonder if some day there might be an answer. Until then he hides it from sight, and waits.

And waits.

And soon he grows tired of waiting.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.13

Keith came out the shower doing his best drowned rat expression to date. With the towel around his shoulders, Lance wondered if Keith was protecting his neck, or preventing his shirt from soaking through. Having already showered, Lance had a glass of blood wine in one hand, and his phone in the other, dinner plans having gone out the window while he was busy playing with Keith

“Do you want the good news, or the bad news?”

Keith crossed his arms, Lance having to stomp down his compulsion to go dry the younger males hair off with a towel

“What?”

“Well, remember my friends from the other night, yeah, Hunk’s going to be here in about 20 minutes to pick us up”

“I’m not going”

“You don’t even know where we’re headed to”

“I don’t care. We’re not going”

It didn’t escape Lance that “I” had turned to “we”. He figured the hunter wouldn’t trust him to go out alone, and if he hadn’t been totally awol from his normal life he would have been turning down the invitation for some serious self pampering time

“Sorry, but you see, when my friends want to hang out, I don’t turn them down. You need to go get changed into something more bar appropriate”

“We’re not going. We haven’t finished talking. You turned me, and I need to know more”

With the number of times Keith had accused him, Lance felt like he’d know Keith far longer than a week and a bit... God, he couldn’t even remember if it had been a week, Keith’s idiocy was spreading

“And I hear I was thinking you’d finally gotten a clue. We’re going, because I’m invited. I’ll go on my own if I have to, but I had the feeling you’d freak out and think your prey was running away”

Keith’s emotions flickered across his face, obviously arguing mentally about the fact he couldn’t say no, and nor did he have the power to stop Lance

“Fine, but only so I can make sure you don’t turn anyone else. If you so much look like you’re going to bite someone, I will decapitate you”

“Excellent. I think I should have something in wardrobe that’ll fit. I’m guessing you like black on black”

“What’s wrong with my clothes?”

“You’re wearing a black onesie. Some people might be into that, but at a bar, that suit’s a crime against fashion”

“It’s not made to be fashionable”

“No, it’s made so you can be all “bump in the night”. Blargh. Go change already”

Keith told Lance at least several times that wearing his clothes had been forced upon him. Lance wasn’t sure why, when Keith had chosen his own wardrobe out of what was available. In ripped skinny legged black jeans and a black silk button up, Keith looked passable. Lance chalking up the weird sensation of wanting to pat Keith’s butt to the fact he too was recovering from being poisoned. Keith was soooo not his type, never mind the fact the guy was a freakin’ human, Keith hated him with a passion. Nope. Keith didn’t look good in his clothes, nor would he look better out of them. Lance was just... going through a lot. That was it. He was not getting suckered in by those piercing purple eyes, or the way Keith’s collarbones peaked out of the shirt. The blood in his body had enough to deal with, without it deciding it needed to make a trip down south over absolutely nothing.

Leaving Blue feeding her face on wet food, Lance headed for the door, back tracking to grab Keith by the wrist and drag him along behind him. Keith was starting to object all over again, but Lance wasn’t having it. If he had to socialise around drunks, then the punishment should be shared by Keith for being so goddamn hot and stupid... mostly stupid with a dash of stupidly hot sprinkled on top, kind of like unwanted chilli flakes. Lance was feeling pretty confident in his own outfit, blue jeans, white shirts and cropped tan jacket, but Keith had one upped him without even trying. Maybe Keith would get laid and lose some of his prickliness? The anger loaf needed to let that anger go, and turn into that beautiful emo butterfly hidden inside his cocoon of douchery. Towing Keith out the house, Lance left the alarm off in case Shiro came back. Explaining Keith’s presence seemed a hard enough challenge as it was, explaining why Shiro was breaking into his house... that was a whole other kettle of fish.

*

Lance had been lied too. There was no bar, they were in fact in Platt, running a rehearsal of Hunk’s date with Shay on the weekend. Picking up Pidge, she’d thrown herself into the back of the car, hand narrowly missing Lance’s junk in her rush. Oogling Keith, Pidge had elbowed him as she buckled herself in, all Lance could do was offer a shrug. Hunk’d already been shocked enough for the three of them, Lance lying his arse off saying Keith had offered to stay a few days and help Lance take photos of his house as he was thinking of repainting. The photos were for the online lab thingo where you could upload your rooms and pick colours there. Yep, those were the words he used too, technology was forever changing and he openly admitted he missed the days before social media... other than the cat videos and memes.

With Keith having no cash, Lance paid. Choosing gold class tickets meant the food was included, and the seating private. The hunter looked spooked by human interaction, Lance ordering steak dinners for the pair of them because damn if he wasn’t in the mood for some budget dead cow. Buying the biggest coke they had, Lance enjoyed the fact that the mix ratio was whack with more syrup than soda water, the straw ending up chewed on before they’d even made it into the screening room. Lance wasn’t sure about the movie selection but with Hunk and Shay going to see the one rom-com playing, Lance steered the group away from buying tickets for it so his bestie and Shay could enjoy seeing it for the first together.

Taking their seats, Lance wound up between Pidge and Keith. Pidge immediately started playing with the chair remote, and Keith sighed in annoyance. Leaning in, Lance kind of felt bad that they hadn’t wound up at a bar. Keith would have been able to have a few drinks and kick back, then find someone to take to the bathroom and work that aggression out. Just because he hadn’t done the do, didn’t mean Keith wasn’t a seasoned professional

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know we were going to see a movie”

“Whatever”

“I’m serious. I didn’t know. I would have dressed warmer if I did, and would have insisted you put a jacket on”

“I’m not a kid”

“I know you’re not. I just feel bad. I was hoping you’d be able to relax a little...”

“I don’t want to talk to you anymore”

“Okay, but I really am sorry”

When dinner came out, Keith poked at until he finally gave in, pretty much wolfing it down, half an hour later Lance had to excuse himself to the bathroom, finding Keith gone when he returned. Taking his seat beside Pidge, Lance leaned in

“What happened to Keith?”

“He said he needed the bathroom. Didn’t you see him?”

“No. How long ago did he leave?”

“Not long after you... Dude, what’s your deal with him?”

“My what?”

“Your deal. What’s he still doing here?”

“I asked him to take some photos of the house for me”

Pidge crossed her arms

“If you’re going to lie, at least make it convincing”

“Who said I’m lying?”

“You did. I know you, and I know when you’re lying. Something’s off with Keith, and you’re acting really weird”

“I’m not acting weird”

“Are you two dating? Is that why you’re being weird? You feel like you can’t talk to us...”

“No! No, no, no, no, no... ewww. No. I’m not dating him, he’s a stranger”

“A stranger you bring to a movie night with your best friends”

“It was either leave him the house or bring him with me”

“So he’s staying with you, like, staying staying?”

“Only for tonight. Shiro’s going to pick him up. I’m thinking of repainting the living room closer to its original colours, and I figured having a fresh set of photos would work”

“Why didn’t you ask me?”

Pidge’s words went right over his head, before looping back and slapping him in the face. Pidge had had her feathers ruffled by Keith “taking” what would have been her “job”

“Because, my Pidgeon legged friend, you would start hunting for ghosts in my house, then try to steal Blue as you left”

“You’re dodging the question”

“I’m not dodging the question. I only asked him because he’s a professional. You’re still my number one tech guru. I’m sorry I’ve been sick and haven’t been able to hang out, but I’ve missed my gremlin. No one can replace my little anger muffin”

“You’re a wanker”

“So I’ve been told”

“Has your cold when passed? You still look pale”

“Yep. Clean bill of health from the doctor. Just the usual take it easy for the next few days, fluids, sleep, platonic dates with your best friends, the usual post cold instructions”

“I’m still shocked you’ve got Keith staying with you”

“I’m shocked too. But I keep telling myself it’s only for a few days and soon it’ll all be over”

“Dude, he was wearing your clothes”

“And?”

“Lance, you know I’d never judge you for your sexuality...”

Lance laughed, him and Keith simply too ridiculous to even go there

“It’s definitely not like that”

“Are you sure? I mean... I’ve never seen you like this...”

“What? Invaded by a photographer?”

“No, not like that... I mean... like, he’s wearing your clothes, staying at your house... it’s not like you”

“Keith didn’t have any clothes that weren’t a crime against fashion, or acceptable at a bar, which I totally thought we were going to, thanks to a certain someone. Nah, he’s just staying a couple of days then Shiro is going to pick him back up and that’s that”

“Something still feels off”

“Pidge, I promise I’m okay, and I promise Keith and I aren’t in some whirlwind romance, or whatever that brain of yours has thought up. I’m actually pretty sure he hates me, if that makes you feel any better”

“Nope. It just makes it weirder... Should we be worried that he hasn’t come back?”

“Nah, I’ll go see if I can find him. Dude’s got the social aptitude of a rockmelon. He probably peopled himself out and is having a sulk”

“If you say so. Now go away, I’ve already missed part of this riveting plot”

The plot wasn’t riveting. It was badly thought through and designed for the masses. Like most things...

Keith wasn’t in the cinemas entrance hall, nor the bathroom, Lance heading outside to search for him. Not at the front of the cinema, Lance was starting to get pretty annoyed with his missing idiot. The last place left to check was the parking lot, where he found said idiot cornered by three men. Great... just... great. He took his eyes off him for two minutes and he’d already wandered off into trouble. Walking over to stand just short of the three strangers, Lance eyes Keith who had his arms crossed, scowling at the group

“Heya, fellas. Something wrong here?”

“Who the fuck are you?”

“You know, just a concerned citizen. You’ve got my friend cornered, so if you could just see it in your hearts to let him go...”

Lance stepped back, escaping being hit in the face as the stranger bared his teeth. What the fuck?! Was Keith dense as fuck? Or did he think he had the skill to take on three idiots

“Your wallet or you life”

“Seeing you’re getting neither, I suggest you run along home”

“What did you say to me?!”

They hadn’t even had to go to bar to find trash. Lance sighed as he pulled out his phone

“Well, we are living in the age of technology. This miraculous little device lets me call the police when people like you start messing with people”

“You won’t get the chance”

“We’ll see”

Avoiding being attacked was laughable. His attackers had like zero grace, they must instead rely on numbers to look “intimidating”. Each swing that didn’t connect made them madder, their “leader” pulling out a small blade, as Lance danced around them. Putting the phone to his ear, he made as if he was calling the police and not his home phone

“I’m going to kill you...”

Raising his pointer to his lips, Lance hushed the man

“Didn’t anyone teach you its rude to interrupt someone on a phone call?”

If someone was watching, the would have found the way the three morons were falling over each other hilarious

“Yes, hi, I’d like to report an attempted robbery at the front of Platt Pictures. There’s three guys that have bailed up two men...”

Dropping down to dodge the punch thrown at his face, Lance swept the leg of the leader, snatching his blade out his hand as the man’s eyes widened for the millisecond as he fell

“Yep. There still here... I’ll wait. You guys should probably run if you’re going to. Cops are on their way”

The look in the leaders eyes was something feral, spitting like it made him cool, the man wiped his mouth

“I’ll get you for this”

“I’ll be waiting, but I won’t be holding my breath. Also, I’ll be keeping hold of this blade of yours. Evidence and all that. It’s amazing this fingerprint technology...”

“Forget it, lets scram!”

When the leaders two goons split, the man pushed himself up, running off like the coward he was. Lance giving them a little wave as they did. Ending the call to his house, Lance slipped his phone back in his pocket, before holding out the blade to Keith

“Here, a souvenir of our time together”

“I could have handled that”

Lance rolled his eyes

“Never said you couldn’t. Anyway, take it. You seem to like knives and I’ve got no use for it”

Keith frowned at the offered knife

“But the police...”

“Aren’t coming. Let’s just say I have a job where I need to keep my name squeaky clean”

“What the hell?!”

Lance sighed at Keith

“What? Do you want me to call them? I totally can, I remember all their facial features”

“You didn’t do me a favour...”

“Never said I did. Oh, you totally skipped out on movie night. Do I want to ask why you’re not inside pretending to be scared like everyone else”

“The movie was shit”

“Finally, something we can agree on. But, Hunk and Pidge are trying to be friendly with you, so leaving is kind of a dick move”

“They don’t even like me”

“They might if you’re not out here hiding. Also, Pidge thinks we’re dating, so come on darling, we’ve got a movie to finish”

Lance took Keith by the wrist. Socialising wasn’t about to kill him

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Dragging Keith’s along, Lance spoke as they walked

“Well, that’s a long story. You see a long time ago a little boy was turned into a vampire. He grew up to become a lawyer, living as human like as he could, as he tried his hardest to give back to humanity so no other little kids got hurt. He never fed from a single person, took a lover, or like harmed any one more than what you just saw... You could say things were going well for him and he was happy. That was until two hunters crashed into his little corner of the world. He was forced to drink blood from an actual person for the first time in his life. Which upset him, because he felt he’d lost a little of the humanity he wanted. Now he’s trying his hardest for a stranger who wants him dead, and refuses to listen to him, because he’s some disgusting, revolting, beast that deserves that’s not even fit to be on the bottom of your shoe”

“That’s just it, why are you trying?”

“I don’t know, and that’s what’s getting under my skin”

Dragging Keith the whole back to their seats, they got there in time for the heroic ending where the main character saved the day. Hunk was sobbing, Pidge had gotten herself some skittles and was attempting to catch them in her mouth as she made a mess around her. Seeing they’d mostly missed the film, he and Keith remained standing there until the credits started and Pidge called “time to bail”. Ditching holding Keith’s wrist, because he’d honestly forgotten he had, Lance wrapped his arm around Hunk’s waist

“Good movie?”

“She was so brave...”

“I know, man”

Pidge cuddled up to his side until Lance looped his other arm around her

“What did you think?”

“It sucked. There were so many plot holes. I want my money back”

“Aw, never mind Pidgeon. It’s over now”

“That’s 133 minutes of my life I am never going to get back. You and Keith are arseholes. You missed most of the film!”

“Are we arseholes, or are you cranky we escaped?”

“You’re both definitely arseholes”

“Now, to be fair, Keith hit his people limit of the day. You’d never know, for all his conversational skills, but he’s a lot like you, Pidgeroonie. He gets very tired of people fast, and cannot do the brain without the coffee”

“That’s because people fucking suck!”

Pidge’s loudness caused the people walking near them to stare, staring was awkward forever one involved, Lance didn’t want the night to end awkwardly

“Okay, that’s enough exposure to the public for one night. Why don’t we grab something and head home? I’ll even pay”

“Yay! I want a super sized slushie. I should have thought of it sooner. I wonder if that slushie place with the weird flavours is still open”

Hunk groaned

“You’re making me do city driving?”

“Dude, relax. It’s night time, meaning there aren’t as many people on the road. Consider it practice for your date”

Hunk blushed, Lance laughing happily

“Don’t be mean to him, I’ll drive. Pidge, you’re in directions. Hunk, music, naturally, Keith, you get to sit in the back with Pidge and make sure she doesn’t get up too much mischief”

“What? Why?”

“Because I said so”

*

Keith opted to stay in the car and be a buzz killer as the three of them rushed to the slushie store. Minutes from closing, they were those annoying customers that all retail staff dread. Pidge was in heaven as she eyed the walls of flavour, Lance paying and limiting her to two without added energy drink. Hunk went for bubblegum flavour, Lance for strawberry. Keith hadn’t come in, but part of Lance didn’t want him feeling left out. With all the scowling faces Keith had pulled since they’d met, lemon was ruled out as a potential flavour, instead he went for iced coffee labeled as being lactose free. Keith might not be the nicest person in the world, but that didn’t mean Lance was going to be a douche over something Keith couldn’t control. He knew the man liked coffee, so it was the most logical choice. Pidge ended up unable to decide. One abomination made of orange, pineapple and mango, the second strawberry, bubblegum and coke. Making sure he’d left the woman behind the counter a very generous tip, Lance ushered Pidge and Hunk back to Hunk’s car, a little proud of himself when he got Keith’s door open with his foot in the door handle. Glaring up at him, Lance beamed in pride

“I got you one”

“I don’t need one”

“Yes, you did. It’s iced coffee, lactose free. Consider it an apology for venting on you earlier, if you need an excuse to take it”

Handing Keith the drink, Keith eyed it in suspicion

“Dude, it’s fine. Legit went from the machine to the cup then out to you. Pinky swear and all that. If you don’t want to drink it, I won’t get offended. I just thought it’d be nice to include you”

“Whatever. Thanks and stuff”

“You’re welcome. Let’s get you back home away from all these people so you can take a nap”

Keith’s expression soured, Lance was sure he was going to have the iced coffee slushy thrown at him, so shut the door quickly. Keith wouldn’t be a big enough douche to ruin Hunk’s interior. Hunk was a human, someone Keith was supposed to protect, meaning hurting his feelings had to go against whatever code hunters were bound to. Being caught up in everything going on, Matt came to his mind as Lance opened the driver’s door, his heart sinking. He hadn’t thought about Matt all night. Pidge had probably spent the whole night missing her brother and wishing it was him at the movies with them instead of Keith. He didn’t want to seem down, but it was hard to perk himself up now that he’d remembered he didn’t know how to act around Pidge. Climbing into Hunk’s car only made his heart ache more as Pidge and Hunk bickered over her flavour combinations. There was a code of privacy within VOLTRON, so he couldn’t enquire into Matt’s status. He couldn’t do anything to help Pidge with her Matt situation except for maybe confirm he was alive, which Shiro had already confirmed. Goddamn Shiro. He was ruining his night and the man wasn’t even here.