Lance McClain:

Seventeen years old. Defender Of The Universe. Formally known as "The Seventh Wheel." Blue Paladin. Team Sharp Shooter. Dashing with his debonair smile and his devil-may-care-attitude.

Somebody you'd definitely wanted to think twice about before crossing.

Lance was also confident. Charming. Smart. (Widely adored by the ladies.) Keith's rival. He was also heroic. Defender of the Universe, in case you sped by that part. Not to mention humble. (One of his better qualities, he's been told.) He thought it was his hour glass skin but no biggie.

Who was he? Who was Lance McClain?

Honestly?

On the DL?

As in: Don't-Ever-Mention-This-To-Anyone-Especially-Teen-Mullet.

DL was Lance was often uncertain.

He never quite...fit in anywhere he lived or the school he went to. Being loud was him being afraid that he would live and die forgotten. As if Lance McClain would disappear from the Earth as if he never existed.

Ironic, right?

He was also homesick. There wasn't a day that went by in the depths of space that Lance didn't picture his hometown in Cuba, the little shack of the Vereda Beach. The blue ocean splashing against the white sand. Garlic knots...his mom's hugs.

His mom always did say his heart was the size of Cuba.

Not much has changed if you exclude the lions, Voltron, aliens, alien warships and 10,000 year old space elves. And the mice. The mice deserved an honorable mention. But anyway, Lance was still pretty much the same as he was in junior high, three years of high school and the Garrison. He was still Lance McClain, the guy people laughed at whether he did it on purpose or not. So he might as well do it on purpose.

Now, he was pretty sure they would all die as legends, Defender of the Universe and everything. Even if the other paladins were never remembered...where was he going with this?

But he would always played second fiddle.

There would always be a Keith Kogane.

Somebody better.

It's true. Lance was...almost-not-quite admitting it. He wasn't smart as Pidge. Fast as Keith, kind as Hunk, remarkable as Shiro but...Lance had something to offer to the team that no one else could:

Joy.

The one thing that Zarkon or this evil witch would ever be able to take away from him: Lance was happy.

Sure, he was depressed and lonely at times but that couldn't stop the fact Lance burned with an unbreakable desire to do good, to stand loyal to his friends and the entire universe. Not just Cuba. Not just Earth. But every man, woman and child who put their faith in Voltron to protect and defend them.

Lance's insecurities be damned, he would not abandon them.

This was all much bigger than himself.

To add to his list, on an even bigger DL, (as in be cool, bro:) he was innocent.

He had seen a lot of things these past few months but he still carried that child like innocence with him throughout the galaxies. Which turned out pretty useful against the bad guys. (Or this puta mierda bruja!)

Point is: Lance could stare evil right in the face and laugh. And get punched in the face. Rinse, repeat.

He tried to be brave.

He tried to give himself worth for his teammates. He tried to be like Keith. Because in the heat of battle, joy wasn't enough.

Lance, wasn't enough.

That's how he ended up here, in this dungeon, strapped to this grimy space table being experimented on and "politely interrogated." Because life was rainbows and unicorns...half of the time. Because, garlic knots.

But if Lance hated anybody with every breath and every bone in his body [(more so than Umbridge) yes, Umbridge] it was the Druid Witch.

If something so foul could walk across this spaceship...or this planet(?) or dungeon, she was foul. Bruja de puta.

Lance was sweating out of every single pore, breathing rapidly as his wrists bled, chaffing against the magic restraints. Stupid Mullet. Stupid mission. Stupid...stupid! He yanked harder. "Joder," He swore under his breath.

The door opened.

Because life. Because unicorns.

His glare was smoldering as the Druids entered, faces hidden by their robes.

"Have you given any thought to my question, paladin?"

The brunette smirked, his answer rolled off the tongue beautifully, "Te ves perdido. ¿Necesita direcciones? Ir a un planeta desierto, cogerun cactus, viaja y caer un agujero, romper la pierna y tener un porcepine gatear por la vagina de mierda."

The Druid Witch's face looked furious, no doubt understanding the intent behind Lance's words.

The teenager let his head fall back as he screamed.

His throat was raw, but nothing could stop the shrieks that tore through the dark secluded room as the electricity tore through his body. Eight seconds later it stopped. Before Lance had time to gulp in a gasp of air it started again.

"You will show respect to your elders, paladin. The Dark Lord will not show you mercy as I have. We've catered your indifference for too long, you will tell me where the other paladins lie."

His breaths finally tampered off into soft pants, a few moments later Lance cracked open eye and said, "Chupar una cucaracha."

Lance McClain. Seventeen years old. Defender of The Universe. Formally known as "the Seventh Wheel." He was also formally known as fucking screwed. To put it lightly, the druids loved having him over so much they skipped the blase kinky electrocution and went straight for some hard core magic shit.

As in "lets bend the rules a little" magic shit.

He was now the white mouse running on a hamster wheel.

His mind moved sluggishly, mouse wheel?

No...hamster.

Anyway, Lance was defiantly missing Vereda Beach now.

After five months of torture all he could focus on was the blue skies. The green grass. Splashing in rain puddles...except he couldn't see any of it.

The only thing he could see was the space dungeon's dank interior straight out of Zarkon's monthly Home & Garden.

It was maddening.

He missed home.

He missed his mom.

He missed his friends.

His mind trailed off to the incident five months ago when he saved Keith's life. He was put through all of this T&I because of his lazy, infuriating ass.

Lance sighed in a single huff.

He would do it again.

He would put his entire life on the line for Teen Mullet and not just because Lance wanted to look brave. Not because he wanted to take all the glory or have a massive amounts of bragging rights later: He did it because Keith was his friend.

Because he was important.

The brunette let out a weak, dry laugh, telling himself, "You're getting soft in your old age Lance."

"You know they say talking to yourself is the first sign of insanity."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"Keith?"

"Hey Cargo Pilot, ready to break out of this joint?"

"Where the quiznak have you been?"

The red paladin winced, "Quiet down, will you? This was suppose to be a rescue mission," he smirked, then sighing as Lance glared at him, "I was saving the universe, Lance, where were you?"

That resulted in the blue paladin's face going beet red, "I was vacationing in Florida!"

Keith hummed, unlocking his restraints, "How was it?"

"It was nice!"

"Take any pictures?"

"Lots!"

"Lance?"

"What?"

"Why are you screaming?"

"I don't know! My throat really hurts actually!"

Keith tried to sound patient, pulling his friend up off the table, "Then maybe we should be quiet?"

Lance didn't respond as his head drooped, his skin hot and flushed.

He heard some sort of swear word in Korean, "Lance?"" He smacked him in his face, "Lance!"

Keith swore again, mopping sweaty locks off his own forehead and lifted the younger paladin so he could carry him bridal style. Judging by the look of him, the druids defiantly did a number on him. Who knows what kind of experiments they did... right now all that mattered was getting both of them back to the Castle.

Keith activated his space suit and flew slash jumped through the ships main hallways.

He only had gone through a handful of Galran soldiers before the alarm activated and bay doors began to close.

He juggled Lance in his arms, shifting the heavy weight onto the other shoulder, "What did they feed you? I hope the Galra didn't run out junk food when you were here."

"I wasn't...I'm not fa..." Lance trailed off weakly.

"Hold on buddy, we're almost there. Pidge we're coming in hot!"

"I'm holding the bay doors open! You have Lance?"

"No! I left him behind with the Galra!"

"Keith!"

"I'm joking! It's called being factious!"

A few shots of enemy fire caught on Keith's armor, sizzling as it corroded the hot metal, "Talk later bye!"

"Wh-"

He slide under the closing doors, including all of Lance's extended limbs with him.


48 hours later, Lance stared at his spoon carving into his food goo with interest. The whole team nervously hovered around him like hummingbirds.

Hunk wasn't so subtle, "Were you afraid? How were the Galra? Terrifying? I bet the food was terrifying-I bet you were starving! I bet they locked you up for five months and did nothing but torture-"

Shiro cleared his throat, "Okay Hunk! How about we all give Lance a little room to breath? It's been along couple of months. Right Lance?"

The brunette stopped in mid-shovel as his cheeks resembled a certain furry animal.

"Sufy gurg."

"What?" Allura frowned, as did the mice.

"Surfy goorg!"

"Lance, close your mouth," Pidge reprimanded.

"Sorry. All I was saying was, 'sure thing," Lance's attention fell on the silent red paladin, "Anyway if it wasn't for Drop-Out over there I wouldn't be here."

"I could say the same to you, Lance," his voice a little angry, his brows quirked in irritation.

The seventeen year old didn't know the irritation was directed at himself. So his confusion and an unexplained emotion fueled his response, "It was no biggie."

He shrugged, non nonchalantly.

Jaws dropped.

Only Keith said anything, who rose angrily, "It was a big deal! You almost died! They hurt you to get to us! I made a mistake on a mission. A mistake that cost us one of our best pilots. Why do you always put everyone else's lives above yours?"

The other boy didn't respond, eyes lowered, finger petting a mouse's soft fur.

The team watched the pair in uncomfortable silence, Hunk voicing that particular feeling, "Well, this is awkward."

Their fallen teammate rose from the dinner table, pocketing his hands and returning the mouse, "I'll be in my room. Getting five months worth of blood, sweat and tears off of me. And urine. TMI you guys."

Pidge made a face as everyone watched him leave the room, mood darkened.


"'Why do you always put everyone else's lives above yours?'"

Hot water streamed down onto Lance as he stared at the plain white wall in front of him.

"'It was a big deal!'"

Beads of water dripped into his eyes and down his chin.

"'You almost died!'"

His eyelids fluttered.

Lance shook his head and stepped back, he concentrated on lathering his skin up with lavender scented soap. After going without a shower or any kind of basic human care in alien prison, Lance was lavishing himself with every single kind of soap, oil and lotion he could find.

'Treat thy self," he snorted at the thought. He scrubbed more fervently.

"'Why do you always put everyone else's lives above yours?"

"Damnit!" In midst of Lance's frustration the hot water was turning cold.

Didn't they have any kind of human decency for a former prisoner? "Come on! Guys? Who used up all the hot water?" As expected there was no response. "Hunk? Pidge? It was probably Keith," he grunted after a long pause.

He turned the knob on the hottest setting.

For a few moments, it was bliss.

The fog rose up in the shower, soaking into his skin and opening up pores...that moment was short lived. He felt the cold sting as water, once again, fell into his eyes.

The paladin put his hands in front of face, blocking the stream.

He heard a strange crackling sound when the water stopped all together. Lance squawked, "Stupid space! Stupid Altean plumb...ing..what the..." His eyes widened,"Oh quiznak."

The water was not only cold: It was completely frozen over.

A strange fog pooled out of his mouth.

He stumbled out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist, "Nonononono, it stopped. It was suppose to stop!"

Lance was almost afraid to look in the mirror. His hands shaking, wiped the fog off of its surface.

His stomach dropped.

"Dios mio."

Two startling silver eyes stared back him, his lips blue and his skin pale as Pidge in the summer time.

His hands grabbed his hair, now turning white at the roots.

The most accurate description of Lance at that moment was, "I'm in trouble."