Matthew Holt was having a terrible, no good, very bad-
Oh. That's copyrighted?
Mmm.
Matthew Holt experienced a crumby, good-could-not-possibly-exist, incredibly intolerable day. By the power of God, and animé, which existed on his side, he was ready to go back to bed. It was just one of those days where your younger sister had replaced the sugar for the salt (discovered only after a large sip of coffee), your work called to postpone your day until much, much later, and your dog lost his bowels on your floor.
It
Was
A
Day.
Now, listen. Matthew Holt was doing his best. McScuse anyone who claimed otherwise. He was doing amazing, sweetie.
"Shiro. Shiro, help. I am about to sell pills to raise money to escape Iverson. I need to be at least one (1) galaxy removed from him."
Shiro pursed and popped his lips. He sighed and pressed fingers into the bridge of his nose.
"Matthew Holt, did you just "meme" me outloud? I- you really. I heard that correctly?"
Matt snorted and took a long sip of his (new, and filled with real sugar. Thanks, Pidge. You're the real MVP) coffee.
"Cadet, I am ordering you to never do that again." He turned his head toward Matt. The exasperation was painted over every detail of his face. From the tight lips, to the raised eyebrows, and slightly-widened eyes, Shiro was Done.
"Yeah, ok. Well. I'm a rebel now. I do what I want. Including dealing rare and dank memes. Especially if they've been unearthed from stash, buried deep down and long forgotten. I, unlike most youth, can appreciate a well-aged meme. No chaser, thank you."
"It's 5 in the morning." Matt could read the internal monologue of some meditative phrase going through Shiro's mind from his eyes.
"Oh, ok. I understand when I'm not being appreciated. When I am annoying. And it appears, at this moment in time, judging by the context clues clear on your lovely fac-"
"Matthew!" He hissed.
"I give, I give. Just messin'," Matt smiled, "Are you ready to go to the café today? I figured we could spend a few hours there. I have a boardgame that I told Keith I'd bring one day. Let's stop by the gas station and load up on junk food. I want to see his reaction as he tries it."
He'd been waiting for awhile to do anything other than strictly talk to Keith. He'd spent enough time around Galra, both good and bad, to know that it was common for them to give the cold shoulder to outsiders. The Blade of Marmora had said as much, when they'd first spoken to the people at the Garrison.
"Ours is an organization built on secrecy and trust." Kolivan had said.
Keith was deathly curious of humans, of Matt, his family, how families worked, how society worked. Endless questions and still he knew Keith had kept refrained from asking everything. It had made him easier to get to open up than the other Marmora. Matt was just as fascinated with Keith, with Galra, and so he answered every question, and gave many in turn.
They finished breakfast in relative quiet from there. Shiro was working on setting up the tablet he bought him. While reluctant to accept it, he'd insisted. There wasn't much to do in this town, nor many towns over. It would give Shiro something. What he didn't mention was that he worried for Shiro. That the man was keen on isolating, and that would be the worst thing for his PTSD. The tablet made sure he'd have some form of human contact available at all times.
Matt was mentally picking which boardgame he wanted to bring and which candies and trash food would make the biggest reactions from Keith. He'd yet to have any Galran cuisine, so their tastes were largely a mystery. The only thing he knew was that Keith liked Pumpkin Spice Lattes. That lead him to want to pick up as many sour candies as possible.
If Keith was naturally a cute (handsome) face, then, he figured, he'd be even cuter with wide eyes and a puckered face.
Yeah, he was grabbing the most sour thing he could find. He snickered.
The café was much different during the mid-morning. It caught the traffic of many types of people. There were those who were waiting for the bus, some headed to the Garrison, senior enough that their hours started early afternoon, some headed from the Garrison, the staff who had to work while everyone slept, and people from the town. Without a Starbucks, the Marmora Café had quickly become the stop for coffee and pastries.
They entered only to not make it far past the door. A line of twelve people stood between them and the counter.
"Listen, sir," Keith's was shouting, "I just sold the last cream cake. I can't make any more right now!"
"I come here every morning, wanting one damn thing, and you never have it!" The customer, a large pale man, who looked no younger than 40, threw his hands in sweeping gestures.
"I just told y- Look. It's a popular item! It always sells out at 8am, when the woman from the bank comes ands buys all we have of them!" Keith had his palms slapped down on the counter. His back arched as tall as it would let him be to look up at the customer,
"I don't know what backwater planet you came from, but here our mother's teach us manners. I'd ask to speak to the manager but he's even filthier than you. I'm taking my business elsewhere!" The man snapped and snatched his coffee off the counter. He grumbled about Galra as he left.
Matt gave Shiro a look and nodded his head toward Keith.
He walked wide around the line and pushed open the door to the counter.
"Sorry about that," he turned to the muttering customers and gently nudged Keith away from the counter. He ran a hand through his hair in a comforting gesture and winked. "I'll go ahead and take your order, m'am. What may I get started for you today?"
Matt took their orders and delivered them to the tables. He let Keith work on them quietly. A few of people had words to say, either about Keith's reaction, or the blatant display of racism (as in, species race). He fielded their concerns and managed to talk down each one to calmness. It may have taken his best smile, and some over-indulging, but if it kept heat off Keith, the café, and his family, then he didn't mind the half-hour of it.
Shiro had settled into the bar that wrapped around where the machines were. The tablet was absolutely a great idea, Matt thought, as he watched Shiro try to hold in laughter at some video.
When the line was gone, Matt took the moment to close his eyes. The buzz of chatter was calming. People. There were people and they were here, making noise, in front of him. He smelled the mixture of roasted coffee beans and buttery pasteries. The soft clatter of a porcelain plate on the marble counter brought him out from his meditation.
"Thanks."
"No big. But, are you ok? Uh- we don't all think like that. I hope you know that." Matt turned towards him, but Keith kept his body facing the machines. He was making their order now.
The only noise in response was the air whirring out from the whipped cream can. Matt chuckled inside. He doubted the Marmora understood how out-of-place Ready Whip was in a formal café. He realized that cultural norms were complicated. Keith, and the other Galra, had much to learn.
"C'mon, you need a break! We can play the game when it clears out, but at least try some candies." He smirked and reached underneath the counter for the tri-folded sign that read "The staff is on break", and placed it where customers went to give their orders. Keith sighed dramatically. But he gathered their three drinks by the handles and placed them in front of Shiro.
"Yo! Hook us up with some video recording! This is going on the vlog!" Matt nudged his shoulder. Shiro looked to Keith.
"You didn't even ask him if he's ok- Keith, are you ok with him filming you? Don't let him bully you." Matt just shrugged when Shiro shot him a look.
"Put that away." Keith glared at the tablet.
"Buuuuut-"
"No."
Well, he tried.
"Ok, first, you have got to try sour worms." Matt motioned for the grocery bag in front of Shiro.
"I thought you don't usually eat insects." Keith's arms were crossed over his chest but he leaned forward to try and peek at the contents of the bag.
"Ah man," he reached over and smacked Shiro's shoulder, "we shoulda got those pops with the scorpions."
"Ok, that I know. Why would anyone put a poisonous insect in a.. pop? Is this worm toxic? I don't have your immunity yet." He frowned and Matt realized that he really thought the candy was dangerous.
"You're kinda right that it's terrible for you, but it's just artifical coloring and corn syrup. At worst you'll get a stomach ache, if you eat too much." He ripped open the bag and drew out a single, curvy worm, in all its highlighter yellow glory. Keith's eyes flicked from it and back up to him. He could see the internal conflict of curiosity battling self-preservation. Which, if Matt were honest, was probably the same reaction he gave when he first tried sour worms.
Keith plucked it from his fingers between his pointer and thumb. He stuck his tongue out at tapped it briefly against the tip. He seemed like he was waiting for it to start squirming. When the tasting seemed to go ok, he plopped it into his mouth.
The reaction was near immediate.
His eyes squeezed shut and his nose wrinkled.
Bingo, Matt thought, the Galra must not have sour.
Keith's face was funny, until he rushed over to a trashcan and lost more than just the worm in it.
"Matt!" Shiro smacked the back of his head and rushed over to Keith. Shit, this was not the reaction he expected. He followed after Shiro, trying to hold down the creeping guilt.
"Hng..." Keith was clutching the can with whitened knuckles. He burped again and emptied more.
"I'm fine! Get away from me!" He growled between vomitting.
Shit has hit the fan.
"Woah, should we call Kolivan? You don't think we actually poisoned him, do you? Oh fuck, what if he actually is allergic? Oh no. We need to call. We have to. Shit. Wait, should we just drive him over?" Matt rubbed a hand gently along Keith's back. "Shiro, get my keys, you take him there. I'll, uh, I'll.. stay here and finish the shift."
"DON'T YOU DA-" dry-heave, "RE!"
Shiro nods and grabs the keys. He apologizes to Keith. Matt is grateful he agrees; the doctors here don't yet know how to treat the Galra. He just hopes it's something they can fix. If it's caused by the human half of him, or worse, something inbetween, there's a chance-
No.
Matt wasn't going there.
He gathered the bag and tablet and made his way behind the counter to store them. The break sign went back to it's holding spot. He dug his phone out of his pocket and opened up a message to send to Iverson, explaining the situation. He sent duplicates to his dad and sister. He hoped they'd be able to share it with Kolivan, so they"d be prepared when Shiro and Keith came in. If Shiro was allowed in base. It was possible the two would need to wait off-base and have Kolivan come to them.
He sighed and brought out the box from the candy. He wanted to note down the ingredients and Keith's reaction to it. It had been near instant, which made Matt wonder just how quickly Galran digestion took. Perhaps their gag reflex was far faster? Was it an allergy? Did some ingredient cause a reaction within him? It was quite volitile for one small worm.
Maybe, Matt thought, he'd ask to change topics. They'd been so focused on tech when, if Galra were going to live among them, they really should consider health and biology. Their genes were similar enough that a human reproduced with one. How long before illness adapted and went cross-species?
Thinking gave him something to do. He didn't want to worry about Keith. And he sure as hell didn't want to spend his day staring around the café, as he waited for more customers. Having something to show Iverson would at least take away some of the heat from not showing up.
About the last thing Matthew Holt expected when he opened their front door at 2am was a handful of Galra. Even less did he expect to see Kolivan, straight-faced Kolivan, with worry on his face, as he held tightly to a bundle of blankets. No, not blankets-
"It's my so- it's Keith. He's sweating and shivering and I- he was fine earlier. Ulaz went to get him, it was his turn for dishes-" He continued to babble on and Matt, barely awake, caught about none of it. He reached his arms forward to signal for Kolivan to hand off the sick boy. There was a moment of hesitation. Matt heard Shiro pad over to the door.
"Champion. No, Shiro. Please." Keith was gently let down into Matt's arms. Even he understood the unspoken between them. Ulaz had rescued him, jeoprozied their entire organization, to see Shiro out safetly. Now they needed Shiro, and any other capable, to see Keith through this safetly.
"Sir," Matt cleared his throat, "I think he has a cold. This is a common virus this time of year. It usually clears up in a few days."
The worry didn't seem to leave his face.
"The Galra have long eliminated illness. We do not know how to care for him." There was desperation in his words, as there could only be for him to admit helplessness.
Shiro rested a hand on Matt's shoulder. He was grateful to not have to handle this alone.
"I know this may be difficult but if you leave him with us, we'll look after him. If this is entirely a human illness, then we can care for him."
That seemed to be enough for him because he bent over, nearly in half, to rub cheeks with Keith. He whispered something to the bundled boy, making it by-pass their translators. A soft and high-pitched sound came from Keith. He must have also been speaking Galran. Whatever it was caused the briefest flash over wetness in Kolivan's eyes.
"The blade is- I am in your debt."
Matt watched them pile into their jeep. If there weren't a burrito of an ill boy in his arms, he'd have laughed. Even with the top removed, they barely fit inside.
"Hey Shiro. Did I just see the Blade of Marmora drive away in a topless-jeep?" Matt blinked, looking down at Keith-burrito in his arms.
But Shiro was already in the kitchen and, from the sounds of it, starting on making some coffee.
Matt hoisted Keith up higher by balancing on one leg. It was a good thing Keith was feverish, because Matt seriously doubted he would like being carried around. So they (and by they, it was Matt) moved into the kitchen. Shiro had just finished making them mugs of coffee.
"Dude, not gonna lie, I'm still not over their get-away vehicle." Matt side-eyed his mug. He couldn't drink it without freeing up his hands. And he had at least some respect for Keith's dignity; he was not going to play pass-the-blanket-boy. No. His coffee could wait.
"Let's wait until the morning, er, a decent hour of, before we bring your parents into this. You wait here, I'll grab my tablet and take first watch. Move to the couch but don't settle just yet. Galra are touchy, so I think he'll do best if he lays over my lap."
As much as Matt wanted to protest, Shiro was the only one in the house capable of clear-thinking at this hour. A born leader, or made so by trial through fire, he wasn't sure which.
Shiro came back with his own blankets and pillows, his tablet nestled over them, along with a box of tissues balanced on top. He made quick work of making himself a nest. He reclined the seat and sighed as his back pressed into the cushions. He made a motion for Matt to bring Keith over. Matt gingerly lowered him onto Shiro's lap. Shiro peeled the blankets from around Keith's head and rest it against a pillow balanced on the armrest. His brows worried as he lay the back of his hand to Keith's forehead.
"Can you bring me some tylonol and a thermometer? He's a bit clammy."
Matt hoped that human medication wouldn't interact badly with him, but he trusted Shiro. And Shiro seemed confident in his decision. So he quickly dug through the pantry to procure the items.
"Do we even know if his basal temperature will be in the human range? His internal organs and makeup might be more Galra than his appearance." Matt placed the thermometer under his tongue. His mouth had already been open from having to breathe so heavy.
"We don't really know anything, do we?" Matt eyed the rising numbers on the digital display.
"Matthew." Shiro said with exhasperation.
Oops. Not helping.
"Well, it's reading at him having a fever, if we assume his basal temp is like ours," He went to reach for the tylenol but stopped, "I'm not sure he's gonna swallow these. If the Galra don't get sick, he wouldn't know what pills are. He seems pretty confused and out of right now. Let me get the liquid. I don't want him choking or getting scared of what we're doing."
"Keith, buddy. Hey. It's Shiro. Can you understand me?" He paused but no changes flashed across Keith's face. "I got you buddy. You're sick, it's a human thing. Matt went to get something for you to drink to feel better."
Shiro wiped the bangs away from Keith's face. They were drenched from his sweating. When Matt took his turn, he would go wet a washcloth and wipe Keith down as best he could.
He untucked the blanket from around Keith, wanting to switch it out for one of his dry ones. He nearly choked on his own spit.
"Matt, help! He's naked!"
"Oh. They probably took his clothes off when he started sweating." Matt tapped a finger to his tablet. He was sitting in the recliner next to the couch.
"But they didn't think to dress him again?" He tried to look away as he untucked the rest of the blanket and nudged it to the floor. He reached over and grabbed a thick comforter from the pile next to him. He laid it over Keith and scooped the edges underneath him.
"Dude, nudity is no big deal to them."
Shiro tossed one of the small, decorative pillows at Matt.
"When his fever breaks he's gonna be soooo pissed that he was swaddled. Yikes."
Yeah, yikes.