Adam liked to hear the stories of the Paladins of Voltron, the Defenders of Universe. Yes, he could always just read a book—he'd done that before—, but he liked to listen to the stories. He liked to listen to the way his grandma's voice would waver. He liked to watch the feelings float in her eyes behind the round glasses. He liked to sit down in her bed, by her side, nestle his head in her shoulder and entwine his fingers with hers.

"What do you want, shorty?" She always asked the same thing, knowing exactly what he would answer.

"Granny, tell me about Voltron." He always answered the same thing, knowing she would never stop asking.

"What do you want to know that you already don't?"

That was new, but not surprising. His grandmother never refused to tell him anything about her past as a hero; she would happily jump in conversation as soon as something about it was mentioned. She would talk for hours about Keith, the emo half-galra, about Hunk, the sweet cook, about Shiro, the tired space dad, about Allura, the determined alien princess, about Coran, the mustache alien weirdo. However, there was one subject she seemed to avoid. Lance, the goofy and selfless boy from Cuba.

Every time he came up, she immediately focused on whatever part of the story he wasn't present. Adam wanted to know why, when all the books he had read only seemed to shower that paladin with praise. Lance was his favorite paladin; it was understandable he wanted to know more about him. Besides, she gave that name to his father, if she had enough consideration for that paladin to give her only child his name, why did she hid the stories he was involved?

"Tell me about Lance."

"Why do you want to know about that idiot?"

"He's my favorite."

"Wow, I sure feel loved."

"Granny!"

She laughed, a tired heart-wrenching laugh, and looked at the window. The Sun was shining like always, making the waves of the ocean gleam. No one really knew why she had chosen to live so close to the sea when she wasn't the most nature oriented of people. Except for her team, for they seemed to have the same idea when the time to settle down came. A sigh came out of her lips, her eyes glimmering with so much fondness, a smile painting itself in her wrinkled face.

"When my brother and father were considered dead…"

They stayed there for hours. Adam learned not only about his hero, but also about the feelings his grandma had for said hero. She couldn't hide it, she wasn't even trying. The smile when talking about the happy moments, where they joked around. The beaming when telling about the adventures, the million times they got too close to Death for comfort. The pain when remembering all the bad days, the sadness and the hopelessness. The tears that run down her cheeks when she recalled his last act of selfless idiocy, his very last sacrifice, and all the word she wasn't able to say to him, all the confessions she wasn't able to do, all the love she was denied for the rest of her life.

Because no love is similar to Lance's love.

(Not surprisingly, all of Voltron team said some variation of this phrase at some point when telling the paladin's legend.)

The sun was finally saying goodbye to that side of the planet by the time she had finally told pretty much everything she had to tell about that precious boy from Cuba. Grandma stared at the twilight with the same expression she used when telling Lance's last adventure. Adam swore to never let her alone anymore at that time of day, she looked so broken. Too broken. As if watching the sun going down was like re-watching Voltron's sun fall.

"Grandma Katie?"

"Yes?"

"Why he never called you by your name?"

"He did, he called me Pidge."