September - "I light the candles at your sweet sixteen"


The air was cool and the skies bright but cloudy as Lance waited in the driver's seat of his blue 2001 Toyota Echo. He stifled a yawn as that morning's light rain splattered silently against the windshield; it was another early start… Although he'd be lying if he said he wouldn't be taking a bit of comfort from knowing he wasn't going to be having as bad a morning as some people he could mention.

And speak of the devil, the Shirogane/Kogane stepbrothers materialized in the shade of the doorway to Shiro's apartment building. They were both dressed in jogging clothes, with a backpack slung over their shoulder.

Lance slipped out of the car and joined them at the doorway. "Hey guys." He greeted, and leant over to kiss Keith on the cheek. He also took the opportunity to check out his boyfriend, sporting an old pair of black sneakers, black shorts, a black tank top (currently covered by a lightweight windbreaker), fingerless leather gloves, and adding a dash of colour were a set of matching red sweatbands on his wrists and forehead. For the occasion, Keith's hair had been tied up into a ponytail.

It was enough to make Lance willing to take a jog with him around Lake Sammamish, but they had a prior engagement they needed to get to.

"Thanks for picking us up." Shiro smiled.

Lance made a dismissive wave. "Pshaw, it's no problem. I got a text from Pidge a few minutes ago saying they're on their way in Hunk's car."

Shiro nodded. "Then we'd better get moving."

Lance moved over to open the front-passenger door so he could slide the seat forward. Keith settled into the back of the car, whilst Shiro sat shotgun. Keith had always insisted Shiro get priority whenever they were travelling in Lance's car.
With his passengers in situ, Lance flopped into the driver's seat, strapped in, and retrieved a scrap of paper from one of the cubbyholes either side of the car's stereo. He studied it for a moment, and began to type an address into his SATNAV.

"Turn right in. Three. Hundred. Yards." The device instructed.

"Alright, look Marmorites, you're about to get wrecked by the Broganes!" Lance grinned, and ignited Azul's engine.


The journey from Beacon Hill to Union Hill-Novelty Hill had lasted almost forty minutes, and by the time the dashboard clock told them it was seven-thirty, they were making their way along Northeast Carnation Farm Road. The ride had been relatively smooth and enjoyable, thanks to the absence of office workers jamming up the city streets, and Lance's playlist rotating via the aux jack plugged into his phone.

The pecan-haired man was in a pretty good mood as he joined the queue of vehicles lined up at a turnoff on the road, just past the main buildings of the farm. Stood gently swaying in the breeze were purple banners advertising the day's feature attraction:

THE TRIALS OF MARMORA

The event was a major part of the 'Broganes' calendar, a physical fitness event which saw them spend the better part of an hour scaling log traverses, tyre runs, rope walls, apex climbs, fire strips, barbed wire, and enough mud to leave you almost covered head to toe, which wasn't a possibility, but a certainty.
The obstacle course was spread out across three miles of countryside, ending at the festival which rolled a live D.J., a large photo backdrop, food and drinks, junior training, and finisher's celebration into one huge after-party.

Lance was directed up a snaking field road, and into a large grassy clearing that had been designated as the parking lot for the event. He pulled Azul into an empty spot, and shut off the engine.
The three of them slipped out of the car, and took a moment to stretch and take stock of their surroundings.

"I think I can see Hunk's car." Keith remarked, and pointed a fingerless-gloved hand towards the distinctive canary-yellow Ford Escape.

"Awesome. I'll give them a call and see where they're at." Lance grabbed his phone from the car and pulled up Hunk's contact.

"Hey buddy, how's it going?"

Lance grinned. "We've just parked up. Where're you guys?"

"Still at my car, just getting a few last things together."

"Hold on, I think I can see you." Lance began to wave wildly towards the other car. He temporarily put his phone against his chest to muffle it. "Hunk! Hey, Hunk! Over here!"

A figure that could only be Hunk popped it's head around the side of the vehicle, and waved back.

Keith and Shiro shared an amused look, before they went back to their preparations. Lance returned the phone to his ear: "We'll be right over in a couple of minutes."

"Take your time, see you guys in a bit."

Lance turned his attention back to his companions. "How's it going over here?"

"Almost ready to go." Shiro reported with an emphatic final tug on his shoe laces, past experience had taught the stepbrothers that double-knotting them was always recommendable. "And done."

Royal blue eyes shifted to the other man in the group. "Hey, how's it going down there?"

"I don't know, how's the air up there?"

Lance chuckled. "Cute. You good to go?"

"Uh, not really." Keith responded, he raised what looked like a black length of string into Lance's eye-line. It was the snapped third of one of his sneaker laces.

The opportunity was too perfect. "Some people would say that's fixable, but I'm a frayed knot." Keith looked genuinely surprised by the joke, which lasted all of four seconds before he turned a mean glower on his boyfriend.

"Because of that, I'm gonna push you into the mud."

"Don't even think about it, lace murderer." Lance fired back.

"Here you go." Shiro stepped over, handing Keith a fresh lace and a pocket knife to cut the remaining knotted section.

"That's knot how you remove a broken lace."

Keith let out a frustrated groan. "Lance, I swear to whatever God made you…"


Lance, Shiro and Keith made their way towards Hunk's car. Crowded around it, evidently waiting for them to arrive, were Hunk, Pidge, Allura and Coran, all of whom, like Lance, were dressed for a day spent out and about in nature.

"Hey guys." The grey-eyed man grinned.

"We were starting to wonder what had happened to you." Allura smiled in greeting.

"I'm sure our combined efforts would have located them in no time." Coran mused, twisting his moustache thoughtfully.

"We were just…" Lance paused to glance at his boyfriend. "Tying up loose ends."

"I'm leaving." Keith grumbled and made an exaggerated move to leave.

"Whilst Keith's mostly joking, he's also right… We'd better be heading off to grab our race packets."

"We'll try see you off from the starting line." The white-haired woman added.

"And we'll meet up with you again at the finish line." Pidge added.

"Yeah. Good luck on your run, guys." Hunk chipped in.

"And try to avoid the mud!" Coran suggested, prompting the group to laugh.

"See you guys later." Shiro nodded, and he joined Keith as they headed towards the event tables.

"See you at the start line, Ninja!" Lance shouted, and Keith briefly turned to fire back an awkward wave.

They watched the figures retreat into the distance for a few minutes, before they too set off towards the cluster of stalls, tables, tents, and the blast of music that comprised the Trials of Marmora festival.

"Man…" Hunk noted, awed. "Every year they're as pumped for Marmora as if it was their first… How long have they been doing this now?"

"Shiro's been running it since he was eighteen. Keith's been doing it seven years now." Lance answered.

Hunk let that knowledge sink in. "Wow. I don't know how they haven't gotten tired from doing it so long."

"They change the layout and the obstacles every year or so, which helps keep it fresh." The bespectacled spectator pointed out.

"Plus, you know Shiro, he's always up for a challenge… And Keith…" Lance laughed fondly. "He's a classic adrenaline freak."

Pidge smirked. "I hadn't noticed."

Lance glanced down at his shorter friend. "You guys get up to much for Saint Hildegard this year?"

Pidge beamed. "It was amazing! Dad took us to this pizzeria in Whittier Heights where they have a wood-fired oven, and it really gave the crusts this…" Their hands waved about for a word.

"Volume? Crispiness?" Hunk suggested.

"Yes!" Pidge pointed at him excitedly. "Both of those! The crusts on store-bought pizza just seem so weak and doughy in comparison. It's like comparing Matt to Shiro in terms of physical build."

Lance laughed. "Does Matt know you compare him to Shiro?"

Pidge shrugged. "All the time."

"Man, I could go for some of their Charcuterie, or some of their sausage pizza right about now." Hunk mused.

"'Fraid it's pre-packed sandwiches and semi-cold cola, big guy." Pidge commiserated.

"A dream deferred is a dream denied." Hunk sighed sadly. He then brightened as an idea settled in: "Maybe we should go there for a double date some time, you and Keith and me and Shay?"

Lance nodded. "Sure. Keith would probably jump at a chance to have a pizza that isn't made by Domino's."

"Aren't you the one who usually suggests Domino's as an option?" Pidge enquired pointedly.

"Lies. It's all vicious lies." Lance joking deflected.

The journey through the festival revealed a handful of things that caught their eye, such as the Blade Store, the beer garden, The Mettle of the Blade (an off-course challenge that tested a participant's endurance by supporting their own weight with steady rings), a tug-of-war, and what appeared to be the start of a costume contest. Through past experience they'd seen that there was plenty for participants and spectators to take part in.

They reached the plastic tape marking the edge of the spectator area. There were about a dozen or so people clustered about, waiting for the first wave to begin. Most of the other onlookers were still over at the festival, or had picked their spots by the finishing line.

"So, any bets on who'll finish first?" Lance asked.

"It feels a little unsavory to bet on our friends." Allura chimed in thoughtfully. "But… I believe Shiro will be the victor."

Lance made a dismissive sound. "Shiro's a power-house, but he's no competition to the Street Ninja."

"I hate to speak bad of Keith, obviously, but Shiro has the greater experience. He's been doing this longer… As we established a while ago."

"And Keith's always given one-hundred percent whenever he's made the run." Their bespectacled friend pointed out.

"Team Punk has broken, and in its place stands Team Pince!" Lance grinned.

Pidge rolled their eyes. "For the record, I never agreed to 'Team Pince'… Though it's better than 'Team Pance'."

"Team… Allurunk… Backs Shiro to win!" Hunk grinned, though it wobbled a little on the team name.

Coran looked between his four friends. "In the name of sportsmanship and fair play, I'll side with hoping they just have a good time. It's not important who wins… What is important is the journey you take getting there."

They continued to chat amongst themselves until Pidge, following a check on the time on their phone, announced: "Ten to eight."

"There they are!" Allura called out, and the distinctive profiles of Keith and Shiro trekked across the grassy field. The two of them were now shirtless, with their race bibs pinned to their shorts. Shiro grinned broadly and nodded as he spotted the group, the two stepbrothers approached their crowd.

Keith and Shiro handed their bags across the barrier tape, it had become an agreed-on tradition that those watching would look after the belongings of those racing.

"Thanks, guys." Shiro nodded.

"Yeah." Keith agreed.

"Knock them dead, Babe." Lance rallied.

"Not literally." Pidge smirked. "Leave them in your dust."

"Take these amateurs to school." Allura spurred-on brightly.

"Yeah, kick their butts!" Hunk cheered, then added a moment later: "In as friendly and competitive way as possible, I mean."

"Hear, hear." Coran agreed with a broad smile.

"We will." Keith grinned, and he shared a nod with his stepbrother. They took their positions amongst the other racers… The other 'Blades', as the event organizers referred to them.

The mood of the weather shifted as eight a.m. approached, as if it too were getting ready for the race. The overcast sky finally followed through on its threat, and a light rain began to fall whilst the wind picked up.

Toward the starting line, a grey-haired and grim-faced man wearing a violet-blue-coloured hoodie stepped up to a metal platform. Even from there, they could make out the Trials of Marmora logo printed in eggplant-coloured ink on the man's clothing.
The stern announcer raised a microphone to his mouth as he addressed the crowd: "The Trials of Marmora is a challenge, a test of endurance, skill and patience… Spread across thirteen obstacles over three miles of open country. These trials result in one of two things: success or failure. Blades, are you ready to test yourselves and triumph?"

"Yes!" The competitors responded resolutely in-near unison. Almost every participant in the opening competitive wave appeared to be a veteran of the event.

"You may run the challenge, but the greatest challenge is knowing when to stop."

The sound of a lion's roar played over the loudspeakers, and on either end of the starting line,, a pair of fire machines flared into life, sending bursts of flame into the air.

The race had started, and the Blades were off.


Keith and Shiro maintained a relaxed jog as they put the starting line behind them.

"Ready for this, old man?" Keith smirked.

"Only if you think you've got the stamina, shorty." Shiro chuckled back.

The path curved towards a small cluster of rectangular industrial buildings and metal silos. From there, the Broganes crossed Northeast Carnation Farm Road and followed it eastwards, jogging on the verge with the other competitors. A little over two-hundred feet along the road, the pack of racers turned off at a gate with a giant purple arrow pointing toward it, and they entered the leafy shade of the adjacent woods.

As they jogged, a sign staked into the ground proclaimed:

YOU ARE NOT MEANT TO CROSS THAT FINISH LINE

Keith smirked to himself, the 'motivational' signs never changed.

After several minutes of jogging along the straight path through the trees, the woods broke away as they entered a clearing. Ahead of them stood the first obstacle: The Warzone.

The Warzone was comprised of three mini-obstacles, a triangular wooden inclining wall, followed by a barb-wire crawl, and a second inclining wall that bookended the far end. Shiro's height and greater strength had him quickly up and over the first inclined wall, but Keith's nimbleness and energy had him in close pursuit. Each man crossed the crawl section at equal pace, and both landed on the far side of the second inclined barrier at roughly the same time.

The race path curved through a pair of long, low outbuildings for the farm. Ahead of Keith and Shiro, the ground dropped into The Entrenched Soil, a pair of muddy pools, separated by three mounds of soil.
The two men charged through the obstacle, Keith managed to avoid the worst of the mud thanks to a quick bit of jumping, whilst Shiro, who sought to preserve his energy by sticking to the ground, earned a splattering of mire up to his shins.

The Broganes jogged on, ignoring the hydration station and proceeded to a stretch of roadway. As the road swept southwards it butted up against a cluster of farm buildings, and then led out into the nearby fields. The failed surface of the road crunched beneath their sneakers as it briefly wove eastwards, and then sharply curved southwards.

The younger man grinned as the sign advertising the next challenge flipped by, he had a chance to win some ground against his brother. The route the stepbrothers followed veered off the road and onto the adjacent pastures to the north, taking them along a dirt path towards the third obstacle.

The Blade's Edge was an apex ladder: a twenty-foot obstacle where they had to scale a sloped side, hope over a short wall, and climb down a vertical side that was affixed with rungs along the upper half, and a sheer face on the lower portion.
Keith was the first to reach the structure, but Shiro pressed forward to quickly move into the lead.

"How's the view down there?" Shiro quipped.

"Dunno, why don't you tell me?" Keith returned as he scrambled up the rungs on the upward side. He wasted little time at the apex of the apex, and kicked off the paneled side whilst halfway-down.

Shiro reached the ground almost a minute after his stepbrother, and put in a quicker pace to close the gap between them. "One of these days… You're going to roll your ankle doing that."

"If it happens, it happens." The raven-haired man made as much of a shrugging movement as he could whilst running.

They were just over a quarter of the way into the trials, and from there the challenges would be getting tougher.


From The Blade's Edge, Keith and Shiro jogged westwards until they reached the tree-line, and from there they followed it until they reached a new dirt path, and they followed that until they returned to the stony roadway.
Ahead of them, the smoldering glow and waft of smoke heralded the next obstacle: Kral Zera (Sacred Flame).

This was the challenge Keith had found to be the most underwhelming, in a race of mud ditches, climbs, pulls and crawls, a line of burning logs stretched across the path seemed utterly anti-climactic.

The Broganes leapt the flames with unchallenged ease.

"That challenge still sucks."

"I know, I know…"

"Can't you say something to Kolivan?"

"The last time I asked him about it, he mentioned that there were a number of reasons why it couldn't be as big as the other obstacles, ensuring participant safety was one of the main ones."

"It just seems such a waste given the whole 'warrior trials' image they're trying to create."

"This might sound overly-sentimental, but I'm glad it's not over the top… I don't want to see you burned to a crisp."

There was some weight to the argument that Kral Zera was only there to lure the competitors into a false sense of security, for further along the route, back on the farmland, lay the intimidating Ascent of the Blade. A thirty-foot triangular prism where the participants scaled one side with the help of ropes, and descended with the help of rungs.

Keith had the initial lead up the ascent, but Shiro stole ahead of the younger man thanks to his greater upper-body strength. As Keith scrambled over the top to clamber back down, Shiro calmly worked his way down the rungs. Upon touching the ground he walked backwards and winked at Keith. "A little effort with a bench press or some press-ups can work wonders."

Keith swore under his breath and hopped down the wooden rungs.

The woods made a return, and their path meandered and weaved as it curved northwards, back towards the road and the starting line.

The two runners broke out into a clearing, which revealed the next course obstacle: The Slipped Knot. Keith had just caught up with Shiro as the man with the undercut waded across a knee-high moat of brown water, the official start of the obstacle, which consisted of a series of plastic chutes laid out on the ground, with a crisscross of ropes suspended above them on a wooden frame.

Keith pushed across the water and turned around, allowing himself to drop onto his back in the plastic chute. He grasped the ropes above him, and pulled himself along the plastic path, chasing Shiro along the five-hundred-and-eighty-foot obstacle.

They emerged on the far end, Shiro in the lead, but with Keith nipping at his heels.


The racers were now officially reaching the half-way point, and ahead of Shiro and Keith lay a brand-new obstacle:

Kusarigama, which upon first sighting appeared to be the bastard child of a set of balance beams, a ramp climb, and metal chains strung across the metal support structure.

"That's new." Keith remarked as they drew up to the structure.

"I know what you're thinking, don't even try it." Shiro warned.
They reached the chains, and proceeded to use them to make their way up the incline facing them. The going was slow, due to the precarious nature of the links, and all the while Shiro knew that Keith just wanted to get this challenge over and done with.
"Patience yields focus." The older man reminded, already sensing Keith's impatience bubbling.

They reached the top of the metal pyramid, from there it was the same way back down.

Naturally, Keith had other ideas.

The younger man's arms sprang out to steady his balance, and he began to walk the narrow metal structural beam down to the ground.

Shiro briefly hesitated, taken back by his brother's recklessness. "Keith!"

"Sorry Shiro, but it was taking too long."

The moment Keith's feet touched the soil, Shiro had only progressed a third of the way down. He shook his head ruefully as he continued to descend the obstacle.

Keith skirted the edge of a mossy pond that veered on the size of an Olympic swimming pool, the path of the trails took him counter-clockwise around the body of water towards the eighth obstacle of the course.

The Drifting Shards was a challenge that threw unpredictability into the mix, consisting of a rectangular wooden truss frame, from which were suspended three rows of seven platforms.
The tethers that supported the platforms allowed them to shift and sway against the participant's momentum and center of gravity, forcing them to take navigate the obstacle slowly in order to progress safely.

Keith fought his urge to take the challenge too quickly. Shiro's earlier caution came to mind, as well as the knowledge that a measured approach would give his stepbrother a chance to chop up his lead.

The raven-haired man deftly climbed onto his first platform, and used his momentum to swing it forward as far as he could - closing the gap to the next platform, and allowing him to step across.
He was moving toward the third platform in the line when Shiro climbed onto the obstacle behind him.

Once again, the older man used his greater physical volume to his advantage; throwing it into the swing to rock the suspended platforms further, and close in on Keith.

By the time the younger man was making his effort to move on to the sixth platform in his line, Shiro was swinging towards the fifth in his.

The moment Keith stepped off of the final platform of the Drifting Shards, Shiro was only half a step behind him and narrowing the ground fast.
Of course, now that he didn't have to worry about the ground shifting beneath his feet, Keith could also unleash the throttle once more.


The returning leg of the course trail wound through the main buildings of the Carnation Farms property, and under the roadway via an access tunnel. As Keith and Shiro emerged from the darkness into the light, the finish line would soon be visible, rather than an abstract concept.

The ninth obstacle, Luxite Grip, lay ahead. The main structure was a wooden truss, similar to Drifting Shards, but hung within its perimeter were four swaying, double-sided frames with rock climbing handgrips. Luxite Grip was a test of grip, balance and constitution.

Keith and Shiro were roughly equal in speed and skill as they traversed the challenge, having spent plenty of time over the years at Parkour Visions and Momentum Rock Climbing back in the city.

"Just like old times, right?" Shiro grinned as they inched from one end to the other.

"Child's play." Keith agreed.

They hopped off the frame at the far end, and left some of their fellow competitors behind.

Shiro and Keith were now feeling the physical exertion from the challenges, their lungs sucked greedily at the air whilst their legs and arms began to burn from lactic buildup.
They had enough to make it through the final quartet with a bit to spare afterwards for the final dash… Whichever way they played the closing leg of the obstacle course, they both knew they were going to be feeling the day's exertion in the morning.

Towering ahead of them was The Water of Knowledge, a combination of an apex ladder and a light downpour, provided by water jets mounted to a pair of wooden trusses at the near and far ends of the ladder. The water sprayed out and soaked the surface of the apex, which was suspended over another pool of dirty-coloured water.

The obstacle provided the test of having to grapple with the sodden structure, introducing chance and a degree of luck late into the game which had been largely fought with skill, speed and agility.

Keith and Shiro jogged towards the waist-deep water and dropped in, each man aiming to reach the treacherous incline first.

Keith was the first to haul himself out of the water, but the unpredictable nature of the obstacle came to life, and his grip slipped, sending him back into the pool.
He spluttered as he pulled himself back up to start again. Shiro was about half-way up the apex when his sneaker slipped, and he slid back about a foot. He braced himself against the frame and pushed forward.

The grey-eyed man was still in the lead as he pressed on over the tip of the apex, and Keith's impatience led to a minor slip of his own, before he too had surmounted the summit.

The younger man clambered down the apex as quickly as he could risk, trying not to focus too much on Shiro's increasingly distant figure as he hauled himself out of the water and back onto semi-dry land.

He caught sight of his stepbrother as the older man dropped into a crouch and clambered under a purple canvas branded with the Trials of Marmora logo, and disappeared into a trench. Keith arrived at Down to Earth a half-minute later, and progressed down into an earthen channel.

He crept forward through the ankle-high layer of mire as quickly as he could, the need to make up on the time lost against his stepbrother driving him on through the trench.

The channel had cut through the soil in a straight line for about twenty feet, where it then ended in what looked like a T-junction. Keith wasted no time in considering the options and just ducked right, and then left again into a new length of tunnel on an offset. If he'd made the wrong choice, he'd deal with it if and when it came.

Another twenty feet of crawling, and he was bursting out into the overcast light… Right beside Shiro!

"And here I was worried I'd lost you!" The man with the undercut chuckled.

Keith smirked. "You have to try harder if you want to shake me."

There wasn't any doubt about where the next and penultimate course obstacle would be, it was the biggest bastard yet.

The Tail's Sting: An obstacle that towered over the fields surrounding it, an unholy mutant lovechild of the Trial of Marmora's greatest hits: The Blade's Edge, Slipped Knot, and a little bit of Kral Zera for seasoning.

Starting with another mud moat, the first part of The Tail's Sting was a two-level structure shaped roughly like an L, constructed of shipping containers.
Participants could ascend to the first level either by a wooden ladder, or pull themselves up the apex climb with the help of a rope.
The ascent to the second level was via a wooden ladder, albeit almost the entire width of the whole structure.
From the top, the racers would then slide down a plastic chute to the base of the obstacle on their backs, passing under a line of flames erected above them.

Keith and Shiro had gotten this far without taking the easy option, so they both went for the rope climb as soon as they'd pulled themselves from the moat.

The Broganes fought to keep in step as much as they could with the other, pulling from what remained of their energy to rob the other of any lead they'd started to build.

They scrambled up the final ladder, their arm muscles protesting at the ongoing effort and strain.

There was no time to admire the view from the top, as quickly as they could they hopped onto the plastic chutes and slid back down to terra firma.
The two men were at ground level in moments, and hopping off as quickly as possible to make it to the final challenge: Rebirth.

The thirteenth challenge was simple in its execution: A one-hundred-foot-long ditch dug into the earth, filled with mud and strung overhead with low-hanging lengths of barb wire, designed exclusively to ensure anyone passing through would get covered almost head-to-toe in mire.

Shiro was ready to give the last leg of the Trials of Marmora his all, and he knew Keith wasn't going to give up. The older man led the charge into the pit of sludge, and his stepbrother went in straight after him.

They worked and pushed themselves, burning through their reserves as they ploughed across the pit with their fellow Blades. Their legs joined their arms in protest, and what wasn't coated in mud was slick with sweat.

It was quite possibly the most disgusting either man had felt… But it'd be worth it.

They neared the edge of the pit, and the rush from the knowledge that they were nearly at the race's end spurred them on. They clambered out of the muck and up the sodden incline back up to the topsoil, and made a last dash for the visible structure of the finish line.

Victory was within each stepbrother's grasp, here were Shiro and Keith, neck-and-neck and pushing each other to the end.


"There they are!" Pidge bellowed, drawing their attention to the stretch connecting the final obstacle with the finishing line.

"Who's in the lead?" Lance asked, peering towards the two muck-splattered runners.

"Both of them!" Hunk reported in awe.

The Broganes were footsteps from the line when Keith seemed to get a sudden surge of last-moment energy, and pulled forward enough to cross a second before Shiro.

The two men darted past, and began to lose traction as they let themselves wind down. Lance, Pidge, Hunk, Allura and Coran quickly made their way over to join up with the exhausted men. As the group approached their friends, Keith flopped like a ragdoll onto the ground with a groan, and Shiro eased himself to sit down in the grass.

"Oowwwww." Keith observed.

"Seconded." Shiro agreed.

"You guys are nuts, but it looks like you had a good time." Pidge remarked with an amused smirk.

Shiro grinned a tired smile. "We did." Keith gave them a thumbs up.

"And it looks like you guys have enough mud on you to give most of the sorority girls in Seattle a facial."

Keith managed to somehow sit up and then pull himself back onto his feet. "Speaking of facials." He remarked, making his way over to Lance.

"Nope! Don't even think of trying it!" Lance balked and quickly backed away.

The tanned man made an inhuman screeching sound as Keith planted a mud-stained kiss on the side of his face, smearing the splatters from his cheeks and jaws from the last challenge.

Lance pulled away from the embrace to the laughter of their gathered friends. "You're lucky you're my boyfriend and you're cute… Even when you're fucking covered in mud."


Fifteen minutes later, Shiro and Keith had collected their medals (purple enamel affairs that replicated the angular blade-like shapes of the event logo) and participant swag, posed for photos in front of the eight-foot tall photo backdrop, and were now in the shower station, washing off the worst of the mud that they were caked in.
Lance, after Keith had brought him over briefly to rinse the mire from his face, waited patiently nearby with their towels and bags of clothes.

Keith's sweatbands, and both runners' sneakers were still going to need some TLC after they got back to the city, but for the most part the Broganes were now clean. Lance handed a faded black towel out to Shiro.

"Thanks." The grey-eyed man accepted the offering and started to dry off. Keith took a moment to wring out his hair, before he accepted the frayed red towel he'd brought.

The raven-haired man flashed a tired smile. "Thanks."

"It's the least I can do for my super-hot boyfriend."

"Super-hot? Even when I was wearing half a field?"

Lance shrugged. "You looked a lot better after that little show you put on during your shower."

"You want a real show? You can watch me the next time I'm taking a proper shower."

Lance smirked, and settled his hands on Keith's damp hips, making it harder for the other man to actually dry off. "Why only watch when I can wash your back for you? As well as other parts I like?"

Keith rolled his eyes, but his mouth was curved with amusement. "How romantic."

"One kiss you two, then we have to get back to the others." Shiro quipped in good humor as he drifted past.

Lance watched his boyfriend's stepbrother disappear in the distance, before turning back to Keith with a smile. "He didn't say it had to be a quick kiss."


It was around half-past nine that morning when they grabbed a spot at a metal folding table at the event festival, the Broganes gratefully sat down on the provided chairs as their friends settled in with them, each man tiredly but proudly wearing their competitor's T-shirts. Around them, more and more of their fellow blades were taking part in the merry atmosphere.

There was a healthy chatter between Hunk, Pidge, Lance, Coran and Allura, but for Shiro and Keith, they were taking some time to rest and recharge with the help of the food and drink provided by their friends, and the Trials of Marmora organizers.

A pair of men approached the table, one of them was the announcer from earlier. Like the announcer, the other man was dressed in a branded hoodie, and was someone Keith recognized.

Shiro set his food down and wiped his hands off on some paper napkins so he could greet the two men. The stern man was dark-skinned, with tufts of grey hair. A prominent scar ran from his forehead down to his lower lip on the right-side of his face.

The other man was white, with a thin, angular face, a short silver Mohawk, and a thoughtful countenance.

"Kolivan! Ulaz! Great to see you!"

"It's good to see you and Keith again. I trust you and your friends are enjoying yourselves?" The man with the scar, Kolivan, welcomed.

Shiro affirmed: "We are."

Ulaz, the man with the Mohawk, smiled and clasped Shiro's forearm in a friendly gesture. "I was certain we'd see you and your brother at some point… You're almost as much a part of the fabric of the trials now as the obstacles."

Shiro chuckled. "I guess we are a little single-minded when it comes to Marmora. How's Thace? Is he around?"

The South-African shook his head. "He probably won't be here until this afternoon, there was a scheduling conflict with his self-defense class. He's well however, we had our third anniversary this June."

Shiro's brows rose. "Three years already? Where's the time gone?"

"The Trials will be marking its tenth anniversary next year." Kolivan noted.

"Wow." Shiro remarked, a little in awe.

"Time certainly flies when you're enjoying yourselves." Allura remarked thoughtfully. "And I have no doubt the two of you will continue to return until you're physically unable to compete."

Shiro shrugged. "Basically, yeah."

"Until we get too old or lose a limb, or something." Keith mused out loud.

"We should get Shiro a cake for his twenty-first run… And another for Keith's 'sweet sixteen'." Hunk grinned.

Lance nudged his boyfriend. "Guess I'll have to light the candles for yours."

Keith gave him a thoughtful look. "Yeah? Will you be blowing them out for me as well?"

Lance shrugged, a dangerous smirk curving his lips. "Don't know… Though I'm sure something will get blown."

Pidge made a face. "Seriously? Right in front of my salad here?"