AN: Hello! Welcome to the post-jungle angst fest. So, if you enjoyed Boom Crash and want to read more, first off, thank you very much. I'm glad you liked it enough to try more of my stuff. But I have to warn you that this is going to be quite a different kind of story. Boom Crash was very much action/adventure, and I purposely wrote it to feel like an episode, fast-paced and with a driving plot. This is likely to be much slower paced, with a bunch of family-type relationship drama as the enemy rather than the Galra. While I have a lot of ideas for things that are going to happen, I don't have as clear and urgent a vision for this story as I did for Boom Crash, so it might take me longer to write, too. But I hope that you enjoy it just as much, and of course, OF COURSE, there will be just a ton of hurt/comfort and platonic fluff, because that is my jam. Thank you!
Another night, another vision of horror. Shiro woke in a cold sweat, staring at the ceiling. This time the dream had skipped the jungle entirely and gone straight to the arena, where Shiro watched Lance die. Again. The scent still clung in his nostrils, sickly sweet and fetid, the rot of death. Shiro shivered.
He lay there, trying to calm himself. The Altean light fixtures glowed softly, providing a thin blue radiance in the room. He usually found it comforting. It was so very different from the lighting in his dreams, in his memories. But tonight... It wasn't enough. It hadn't been for a while.
Shiro sat up and rubbed a hand over his face. It had been a week since Lance woke from the healing pod, a week and a few days since they were rescued from the jungle lake. Everything had mostly settled down, the team falling back into their routine. Train, fight Galra, recover, repeat.
Everyone had been especially kind and tender to Lance (and to Shiro himself, when he thought about it), after the terror of near loss. But yesterday Lance had done something particularly Lance-like and obnoxious, and Pidge had yelled at him and smacked his arm. The whole crew had laughed, bright and uproarious and relieved, and Shiro had smiled in the background as he felt the sensation of settling. Everything was going back to the way it was supposed to be. Lance had laughed the loudest of all.
Everything was going back to normal. So why couldn't Shiro? But then, things hadn't been normal for him for a long, long time. Things might never be normal for him again. Or maybe... This was the new normal. Flashbacks, nightmares, the feeling of paralysis in his limbs, the stink of death in his nostrils. Maybe this was all he could expect from now on.
He blamed the jungle planet. The scent of the place, the relentless pressure, the terror of being chased by the creatures that had stolen a year of his life and left him broken and altered... It had all roused memories that Shiro firmly believed would have been better left buried. He'd had nightmares before that ordeal, of course, but they had usually been vague and amorphous. Now they were all too concrete. And too many of them, almost all of them, involved Lance.
No good. Shiro wasn't able to calm himself enough to go back to sleep. He wavered there for a moment, almost swaying where he sat. Then he swung his legs over to the floor and stood up. He palmed the door and padded into the hall, then stood there, blinking.
The Castle of Lions was huge, but everyone chose to sleep in the same residential hall. It made things easier, and Shiro knew he wasn't the only one who liked having everyone close. Allura and Coran's rooms were to Shiro's left. He went right. The first room was Keith's, and he stood there and listened at the door. Not that it helped. The walls and doors were almost soundproof. But if he stood there long enough, he could convince himself that he heard peaceful breathing. He could make himself believe that all was well.
Pidge's door was next, firmly in the middle of the row of pilots. Then Hunk's. Last was Lance's, and no matter how long Shiro stood there, he could not convince himself that he heard anything. But unlike some of the others, Lance never locked his door. Shiro hesitated with his hand hovering over the activation pad, but he already knew he was going to give in. He had every night so far since Lance had found him on the control deck and made it clear that he didn't mind.
The first time he'd done this, Lance had been wearing an eyemask and Pidge's headphones. That nightmare had been particularly horrible, and Shiro had been sweating and shaking. Just watching Lance sleep in his bed hadn't been enough to convince him, so he'd had to go and stand over him. Then he had reached out and laid a hand on Lance's chest to make sure he was breathing, and Lance had woken with a screech and pulled away from him, tearing off his headphones and mask in near terror. He had calmed down as soon as he saw who it was, but Shiro still felt bad about it.
Lance slept without the mask and headphones now. Shiro knew he was doing everything he could to make things as easy for Shiro as possible. He stood in the open doorway, watching Lance sleep. He could see the motion of his chest, slow and steady, up down. Lance's breath wasn't noisy now; it was almost silent. Shiro wasn't sure he liked it. It was too hard to tell what was going on.
Shiro tried to angle his body to block the light from the hall from hitting Lance's face, but it was already too late. Lance stirred and shifted where he lay, a sleepy mumble rising from his lips. Then he went still, and his eyes slid open, half-lidded in the dimness, staring into space. "Shiro?"
His voice was so tired. Shiro smiled and leaned against the doorway on one shoulder, his chest aching. This wasn't fair to Lance, but he couldn't help it. "Yeah, it's me."
"Mm, 'kay." Lance closed his eyes for a moment, gathering himself, then sat up. He yawned and rubbed his eye with one fist, then stuck his feet into the slippers on the floor next to his bed and shuffled over to where Shiro stood in the doorway. His eyes were barely open, but there was a sort of determination in his movements that was almost funny. "Okay, let's go."
"Lance, you don't have to..."
"Shurrup." Lance put both hands on Shiro's bicep and pushed. "Just turn around and walk, big guy."
Shiro huffed a silent laugh and let himself be pushed out of the doorway. As soon as he turned to walk back down the hall, Lance placed both hands in the middle of his back and continued to push, leaning on Shiro with some of his weight. His hands were warm through Shiro's thin night shirt, and Shiro felt himself calming down more and more as the contact continued.
Lance shoved Shiro all the way back to Shiro's bed, then stood there with his arms crossed, one foot tapping impatiently on the floor, until Shiro crawled in and settled himself on his back, one side pressed against the wall. Lance raised his eyebrows, and Shiro lifted the covers for him. Lance rolled his eyes, now completely open, and poured himself into the bed next to him, kicking off his slippers as he went.
Lance curled up with his back pressed to Shiro's side, head pillowed on Shiro's arm. The Altean light fixtures dimmed when they were both in bed, technology sensing that sleep was at hand again. Or should be, anyway. This close, Shiro could feel the pulse of Lance's breath, calm and steady and smooth. He felt himself finally relaxing, body melting into the bed. He still felt wide awake, though. He probably wouldn't find sleep for half an hour or more. His arm was going to go numb with the pressure of Lance's head on it, as it had the last two nights. He didn't care.
"I'm sorry to keep doing this," Shiro murmured.
"Shut up," Lance said again, more clearly this time. "Hunk told me what you said when you got out of your healing pod. We're all brothers now, right? Well, brothers and a couple of sisters, and a weird uncle who is actually the only adult. Poor Coran."
Shiro smiled at the ceiling. "Still..."
"No." Lance sounded fully awake now. "If there's something I can do to help you, I want to do it. I don't care how many times it happens, or how long it takes before things get fixed for you. Or even if they never get fixed. Besides, it's not like I hate this." He yawned and snuggled his head into Shiro's arm. "Before I went to Garrison, I almost always shared a bed with a sibling or two. It was weird to stop doing that. I didn't like it. I've gotten used to sleeping alone since then, but..." He sighed. "Don't feel like you're burdening me, because you aren't."
Shiro sighed. "I still feel like I'm being selfish."
"That's because you're you," Lance said. "You... You're oldest in your family, right? You said you had a little brother and a little sister. I bet there's a gap between you and the next one, too, isn't there?"
Shiro grunted in agreement.
"So you grew up feeling responsible for the kids around you. Your mom and dad probably depended on you, and you liked being strong and reliable. Your little sibs probably soaked up everything you gave them and demanded more, and you loved giving them everything you had."
Shiro blinked. "That's very insightful, Lance."
"I'm an insightful guy." Lance yawned and settled his back more heavily against Shiro's side. "I get it. There's a reason why a lot of pilots are first-born or only children. But I'm a middle child, so I know what it means to be both a big brother and a little brother. I'm used to giving and taking, all up and down the ladder. This is not a big deal, okay? It's normal. Don't get uptight about it."
Shiro hummed. "You sure talk a lot when you're not struggling to breathe." And even sometimes when he was, if Shiro remembered correctly.
Lance snorted. "That's true. I'm still right."
Shiro made a non-committal noise.
Lance's voice was a little more sleepy now. "If this is gonna keep happening, though, we might as well make it easier for ourselves. What time do you go to bed? I'll just come then."
Shiro frowned. That was a bit too far. He still wanted to believe that he would be able to sleep through the night...or what counted to him as night...without bothering Lance every single time. Starting out together would be an admission that that probably wasn't going to happen. And no matter what Lance said, the kid needed his sleep. With some amusement, as well as a little pain, Shiro remembered how grumpy Lance had gotten every time he'd been forced to wake up on the planet against his will. It wouldn't be fair for Shiro to disturb him every single time his mind decided to mess with him. It happened far too often.
Oblivious to this, Lance rambled on, "Though, I mean, time is relative, right? It was nice of Allura and Coran to set up...Castle Mean Time, whatever you want to call it, to mimic Earth so we feel more at home. Though they said that they're used to adapting to whatever planet they're visiting so it's not a problem for them. But yeah, what time is it for you? We all have different routines we like to follow and I know that Pidge sometimes stays up all night long working on whatever and just sleeps in her lab..."
Shiro raised his eyebrows, startled out of his thoughts. "Does she?"
Lance went still. A guilty air stole over him. "Oops. That was supposed to be a secret."
Shiro released a small chuckle. "Trying not to get your little sister in trouble with the adults?"
"I'm no snitch," Lance said stalwartly. Then he fell silent. "...Except for when I'm half-asleep, apparently. Oh man, Pidge is gonna kill me."
Shiro made a mental note to talk to Pidge sometime soon. And to not mention that it was Lance's fault he knew. She might actually cause him harm. "Don't worry. I already forgot you mentioned it."
Lance made a skeptical noise. "Sure you did. But anyway. What time do you usually go to sleep?"
Shiro was sufficiently distracted by Pidge's secret to let slip his own. "About one in the morning."
"Wow, that is super late, I might have to set an alarm..." Lance trailed off and went still. Then he turned over where he lay to stare into Shiro's face, his eyes wide and accusing. "You told Allura the other day that you get up at five to work out."
Shiro stared determinedly at the ceiling. "Mm."
"Shiro!"
Shiro frowned, and Lance clapped his own hand over his mouth, then pulled it down and spoke in a fierce whisper instead. "Shiro, you only get four hours of sleep a night?"
Shiro continued to frown.
"And I thought Keith only getting seven was bad, Dios mio, what will I do with all of these idiots I'm living with now..." Lance trailed off into mutters, his forehead mightily wrinkled. "Don't you know what that does to your skin?"
"Lance." Shiro put a touch of warning into his voice, and Lance went silent.
He was quiet for a long moment, just staring into Shiro's armpit with his forehead wrinkled. Then he looked up and met Shiro's eyes. Shiro's eyes flickered to him, then away again. "It's because of the nightmares, isn't it."
It wasn't a question. Shiro frowned at the ceiling.
"You try to sleep as little as possible so you can avoid them." Lance slapped his own face and dragged his hand down it, fingers making furrows in his skin. "Sleep-deprivation is not the answer."
"I know," Shiro said frostily. "But it's the only one I've found."
Lance waved a hand. "Nope, nope, nope. This is unacceptable. We gotta fix this. You're gonna kill yourself."
"I'm fine," Shiro said. "I've been doing this since the beginning."
"Ugh." Lance lifted his head up a few inches and flopped it over face-down onto Shiro's chest. His voice was now muffled by Shiro. "Why are you being so difficult."
"Lance." Shiro's voice was much softer now. Having Lance's face pressed into his chest reminded him that this was not his enemy. It was his defacto little brother, and Shiro only had one response to a little brother pressing his face into his chest. He lifted his hand and started carding it through Lance's hair. "Don't worry so much about me. I'm okay."
Lance turned his head a little to groan at him. "No, you aren't."
Shiro heaved a deep sigh. Lance's head bobbed up and down with the movement. "You want to fix this, but you can't, kiddo. You can't fix me. Don't wear yourself out trying. You need your sleep, too. I feel bad enough that I kept waking you up this past week. If you try to do more... It's just gonna get worse."
"You don't know that." Lance's voice had taken on a stubborn cast. He was holding onto the front of Shiro's shirt, now, clenching the fabric in his fist. "You don't know what I can do until I try."
Shiro rubbed his fingers into Lance's scalp a little harder. "I'm not underestimating you. I just... I've been dealing with this for a while. Four hours works for me. Or it usually does. I function fine, and I only have a dream once in a while, and I can handle that when it happens. It's just... Been worse, since the jungle. But I'm sure that will get better soon. Don't wear yourself down for me. You need your eight hours."
"Not good enough," came Lance's muffled voice again his chest. Then his lifted himself up to look down on Shiro from a small height, his eyes fierce in the dimness. "Nope. I refuse to accept this. It's true that I like my eight hours, and you say you get along on four, but what if we split the difference? I want you to get more sleep, Shiro. So let's go for six. I'll come here at eleven, and you can still get up at five to work out and let me sleep in for a little longer. Because I'm not joining your workouts."
This was Lance's reasonable voice again. It made Shiro smile, just a little. He was so earnest. It was rather adorable. "You're not gonna get eight hours. I'm gonna keep waking you up. I don't want to do that."
Lance nodded as if he'd already known that. "Right. That's why I said six. I get that I won't get as much, but you'll get more, and that's what matters."
Shiro blinked. "Six each? That's what you're bargaining for?"
Lance nodded again. "Six each. We add my eight and your four and divide by two. That's fair, right?"
Shiro's face twisted in something like pain. No, that wasn't fair. That wasn't fair at all. It would mean that he would be depriving Lance, a growing kid, a teenager who craved sleep and coveted his rare chances to be lazy, on the off chance that it would help Shiro get just a little bit more rest, himself. That wasn't even close to fair.
But Lance was so serious. So earnest. If Shiro had adopted him as his little brother, Lance had adopted him right back. And he wanted to help so, so badly. It glowed in his face and shone in his eyes, and Shiro had very little resistance to that earnest, longing look, so big-eyed and sweet and caring and...and familial.
After a long moment of struggling, trying to refuse, trying to say no, Shiro finally blew out a gusty sigh and went limp. "Okay. We'll try it. We'll go for six."
Lance beamed like a sunrise. He lifted his hands in fists of triumph for a brief moment, then flopped down onto Shiro's arm again. "All right! This is a great plan, Shiro. It's the best plan. You'll see."
"Sure, kiddo." Shiro sighed and lifted a hand to card through his hair again. "Now go to sleep, please. Get as much as you can."
"Don't have to tell me twice."
Lance went still and silent, breathing easily. Shiro listened to him, felt his warmth at his side, and ignored the numb feeling in his arm. It was... Well. It was really nice. He understood why Lance had missed sharing a bed.
But he couldn't help the sense, deep and hidden and dark in his chest, that they were heading for a disaster.
