Chapter 9: Closer

12/10 – 11.12pm

DiffWizard: Alright, I've had enough of this.

PrincessOfAltea: Enough of what?

DiffWizard: The waiting.

DiffWizard: I can't stand this.

DiffWizard: It's driving me insane not knowing what's going on.

PrincessOfAltea: We can't do anything about it, DiffWizard.

DiffWizard: Like hell we can't.

DiffWizard: I'm done. I'm not going to sit around like the wives of old waiting for their soldier husbands to come home.

DiffWizard: Not me. No way.

DiffWizard: Not that I don't enjoy you're company, Princess

DiffWizard: But it's killing me.

PrincessOfAltea: What are you going to do? What can you do?

DiffWizard: We can go and see them, that's what.

PrincessOfAltea: What?

PrincessOfAltea: How?

PrincessOfAltea: Do you know where they are?

DiffWizard: No. Not yet. I'll ask Butterfingers.

PrincessOfAltea: Will he tell you?

DiffWizard: He better.

DiffWizard: Dammit but he better.

DiffWizard: I'm going to call him.

PrincessOfAltea: You have his number? I didn't know that.

PrincessOfAltea: Although, I suppose it makes sense seeing as you met one another at the Festival.

PrincessOfAltea: Just like Sharpshooter and Butterfingers meeting, I suppose. Everyone is coming to know one another offline, aren't they? Don't you think it's wonderful?

PrincessOfAltea: DiffWizard?

PrincessOfAltea: Are you calling him now?

Sendak has entered the chatroom.

Sendak: Well, it's quiet around here. Is the chat dying?

Sendak: Should've known that would happen. You weren't doing it right.

PrincessOfAltea: Excuse me, but do you mind leaving please? I would never be actively dismissive of someone who wished to join us, but you've been nothing but critical and offensive each time you've signed on.

PrincessOfAltea: Please leave.

Sendak: Hey, listen, you snarky b*tch.

Sendak: I'm allowed to be here just as much as anyone else.

PrincessOfAltea: Conflict is not the primary objective of Voltron. Didn't you read the conditions when signing up?

Sendak: You actually read those things? You must have been such a nerd when you went through school.

PrincessOfAltea: Please stop. I would be more than happy to converse with you if you desired, but if you're looking for a fight take it elsewhere. It's both immature and uncalled-for, and I would really prefer that you cease your attempts at provocation so you don't tarnish this chatroom with your words. You've been more than objectionable in your previous correspondences.

PrincessOfAltea: Please just stop.

Sendak: Tarnished?

Sendak: F*cking hell, you are a posh little princess, aren't you?

PrincessOfAltea: Because I use the word tarnished? I hardly think that qualifies me as royalty.

Sendak; You are. Posh f*cking princess.

PrincessOfAltea: If you don't stop I'm simply going to cease talking to you.

Sendak: The silent treatment?

Sendak: Oh, very mature. Very big of you.

Sendak: Does that work for you in reality? Are you as much of a pathetic pacifist there too?

Sendak: I bet people just walk all over you, don't they?

Sendak: Wait, really?

Sendak: Nothing?

Sendak: You're really not going to talk?

Sendak: Jesus f*cking Christ. Pathetic.

Sendak: No wonder you've only got six people in this chat.

Sendak: It's not even worth my time.

Sendak has signed out of the chatroom.

DiffWizard: Okay, so I'm back. Sorry about that.

DiffWizard: And I missed the jerk. Why does he keep coming back?

DiffWizard: You still there, Princess?

PrincessOfAltea: Yes, I'm here. Just because he was attempting to provoke me doesn't mean I have to lower myself to his level.

PrincessOfAltea: We're above that.

DiffWizard: You know, you're really something, Princess.

DiffWizard: I actually kind of admire you, I think.

PrincessOfAltea: Thank you :)

DiffWizard: And that admiration just dropped a little with the smiley.

PrincessOfAltea: Sorry.

PrincessOfAltea: But what did you find out? Did you manage to contact Butterfingers?

DiffWizard: I did!

DiffWizard: I actually got onto him, and he said that we could come and see them. He said that they've moved into Shiro's place temporarily, Shiro and Keith, and Lance is basically living there with them when he's not at home or at his dad's work or whatever it is. I get the impression he's on the verge of skipping school.

PrincessOfAltea: Well, that's not necessarily a good thing.

DiffWizard: Wait.

DiffWizard: Sorry, I just realised that my last message probably didn't make a whole lot of sense. Hunk – that's Butterfingers – always forget to use our Voltron.

DiffWizard: He must be wearing off on me.

PrincessOfAltea: That's not a problem. I know that Shiro is BlackLion, at least.

DiffWizard: Yeah. Lance is Sharpshooter and Keith is Red, which is kind of weird, actually.

PrincessOfAltea: Weird how?

DiffWizard: No, nothing. It's kind of stupid. Just a coincidence of names I've only just realised.

DiffWizard: But Hunk said that we could go and see them at Shiro's place if we wanted to. I think Shiro might be checking out of hospital to move back to his apartment or something.

DiffWizard: I didn't even know he was IN hospital. I mean, I knew about his arm but I didn't know he was still there.

DiffWizard: How did I not know that?

DiffWizard: Sorry, I meant Butterfingers before. Butterfingers said that.

PrincessOfAltea: You don't have to correct yourself, DiffWizard. I can remember :)

DiffWizard: I'm going to go on and see them on Wednesday after school. Did you want to come?

PrincessOfAltea: I would love to but I can't.

PrincessOfAltea: Much to my regret, that is. I truly wish I could, but I'm unable to at the moment.

DiffWizard: Oh.

DiffWizard: Okay.

DiffWizard: I won't ask why but… I'll keep you posted about what happens, then. I won't just drop off the face of the earth like everyone else seems to have done.

PrincessOfAltea: Don't worry, I'm not concerned. Besides, BlackLion has been keeping in touch every day. Thank you, though. I do appreciate your thoughtfulness. Voltron seems so quiet with everyone talking a little less.

DiffWizard: I know. It really does, doesn't it?

DiffWizard: But I'm sorry, I've got to go. My mom just walked in. I'll be back in little while, hopefully.

DiffWizard: Sorry.

PrincessOfAltea: It's strange how quickly everything has changed. I suppose it's a good thing that everyone is meeting in person, even if the circumstances of how it happened are regrettable. That would be wonderful, wouldn't it? I would so love to meet everyone, but maybe not now. Maybe some other time, in the future perhaps.

PrincessOfAltea: Oh, I'm sorry, I got a little distracted typing and didn't see you leave.

PrincessOfAltea: Take your time, DiffWizard. It's no rush.

PrincessOfAltea: I'll talk to you later.


It was regretful, but Pidge couldn't meet with the rest of the paladins of Voltron until Wednesday. Wednesday had always been her day of liberty, the afternoon she could do what she wanted without fear of the consequences. Pidge liked to think she was a strong person, that she was independent and that she didn't care what other's thought of her, but when it came to her mom it was different.

Pidge was never good enough for her mom. She couldn't possibly do what she wasn't supposed to, not when her mom might find out. Pidge cringed to think what her mom would think of her meeting with her online friends in real life. It wasn't her dad so much that had enforced the laws about talking to strangers.

But Pidge needed to. She'd always been wary of who she talked to, even those not from online. But Voltron was different. At least to her it was different. Besides, she already knew Hunk and it was Hunk that she was going to meet.

Trotting down the sidewalk, Pidge wove her way through her fellow pedestrians. It was a busy hour of the afternoon, slipping towards evening and rapidly cooling with the mid-October weather. Pidge was silently grateful that they weren't going to wait any later to meet that evening. She didn't have a great amount of confidence in her ability to find Hunk on a good day, let alone Lance and Keith who she hadn't even met. She was supposed to meet them at Penn Station which was going to be crazy at such a time of day, and if they were going travel an hour eastward to meet at Shiro's apartment… it would probably help to find them promptly.

The station itself was predictably abuzz with activity. Echoes of voices resounded off the high glass ceiling and figures wove around Pidge as she made her way towards the excessively large overhead signs depicting the destinations of incoming and outgoing trains. Pidge didn't spend much time at the station in particular. She didn't spend all that much time riding around on trains in general, for that matter. Though she had confidence in her own directional abilities – not to mention she always kept her phone on hand – she still felt a nervous twist wring her gut she paused beneath the signs and began as slow, grazing glance around herself.

In less than a minute, Pidge's phone was in hand. She was just on the verge of sending a message to Hunk when she heard her name bellowed from behind her. "Pidge! Over here!"

Turning, Pidge felt a combined rush of relief and redoubled nervousness flood through her as she caught sight of Hunk standing barely thirty feet away. A tall, broad young man with a face-splitting grin that even from a distance visibly scrunched his nose, he was difficult to miss and not only because he was waving crazily in Pidge's direction. He wore his orange bandana as he'd told Pidge he would, and it visibly served the double function of pull back his bangs and as a token of identification.

It worked at treat, in Pidge's opinion.

She barely got the chance to take a step towards him before before Hunk was jogging towards her, parting the crowd like a charging bull with commuters peeling to the sides of his path instinctively. He all but slid to a stop before her, tipping his beaming smile down upon her like an excitable puppy. "You're here."

"Yes, I know," Pidge said with a smirk. She couldn't quite help herself, not around her Voltron friends. Her social interactions chronically fluctuated between sarcasm and muteness depending upon how comfortable she felt with those she conversed with. Pidge supposed that her instinctive sarcasm was a show of how comfortable she felt with Hunk. "I was the one that walked myself here."

Hunk chuckled, though it really hadn't been all that funny. "I mean it's a good thing, 'cause I checked and the trip to Long Beach takes about an hour from here."

Pidge nodded. She knew because she'd checked too. Checked about a thousand times at that since she'd spoken to Hunk on the phone and then PM-ed Shiro when Hunk had told her where they intended to go. Pidge was a little nervous for that fact, but she didn't voice her unease. Her mom would definitely be horrified. Going to a stranger's house? What was she thinking?

But Pidge didn't voice her mom's fears. She didn't verbalise her concerns to anyone on Voltron, even if the unspoken thoughts did niggle at her incessantly. Besides, Pidge wanted to meet her Voltron friends, and if this was the only way… "Are Lance and Keith here, then?" She asked, glancing around Hunk into the sea of dismissive crowd. "Are they coming with us?"

Hunk nodded. "Yeah, Shiro went over to his place morning while I was still at work, apparently, but those two are with me."

"Those two?" Pidge asked, raising an eyebrow.

Hunk's grin became impish and, bending slightly towards Pidge's ear, he lowered his voice so that it was nearly inaudible through the echoes of ringing conversation around them. "Okay, so I don't want to make any assumptions or anything but –"

"But you're making an assumption with that statement," Pidge pointed out.

Hunk shrugged unabashedly. "Well, I'm just saying. Keith's been staying at my place, but Lance comes over every afternoon, even though he says he's supposed to be at his dad's shop. Sometimes late, it's true, but every. Single. Afternoon."

"So?"

"So – and again, not meaning to make assumptions or anything, but it's really, really obvious what's going on and that Lance at least is totally –" Hunk paused abruptly, straightening. "Okay, now I sound like an idiot."

Pidge fought to smother her smile. "You do?"

"Yeah. It sounds like I'm making a giant leap."

Pidge bit her lip in an attempt to stifle her grin. She could guess at what Hunk had been going to say – she wasn't so oblivious as to be unable to read the amusement and strange enthusiasm of his expression – but she did think it might have been a little assuming. How long had Lance and Keith known one another outside of Voltron? Five days? Could people really learn to like someone in such a short time? Pidge wasn't exactly an expert on relationships, but she thought –

"Hunk, why did you run away from us, buddy?" A voice called from over Hunk's shoulder. "I thought you might have seen a donut stall or something and we'd lost you to a world of sugar again."

Turning, Hunk glanced to the speaker. "That was one time, and to be fair it was The Doughnut Project."

"I'll allow that. They're nearly as good as your Balmeran's." Lance hummed in appreciation as the sound of his voice drew towards them.

Pidge knew it was Lance. She knew because it couldn't possibly be anyone else; his words, his voice unheard in her ears before that moment, sounded just as he did online. Fighting back a returning flood of nervousness, Pidge peeked around Hunk's breadth for the first glimpse of him.

Lance was tall, with the sort of long-limbs that bordered on lankiness, yet despite the awkwardness that would otherwise accompany such an impression he seemed entirely confident with himself. He had a right to be, too; even from the barest glimpse Pidge registered in a purely objective light that he was the kind of eye-catchingly attractive person that caught said eye as much because of his pronounced charisma as his features. From the smile he wore, the almost posturing slouch of his stance and the teasing quirk of his eyebrow, Pidge immediately pegged him as one utterly comfortable with who he was. She envied him that. Pidge had never quite been comfortable with herself. Not ever.

All thoughts of self-pity vanished from her mind, however, as she glanced to the young man who stood at Lance's side. About as tall as Lance was himself, arms folded over his chest and expression quietly subdued, she knew him. All of it, from the overlong hair to the red and white jacket and the fingerless gloves, was familiar, even if the rather nasty bruise on his face was a little different. Pidge's eyes widened, because he was –

"Keith!" She blurted out before she could quite help herself.

All of them – Keith, Hunk and Lance – turned towards her with expressions of varying degrees of surprise. Perhaps the least surprised of them all was Keith. He met Pidge's wide eyes with a blank expression of his own that only slightly softened as he met her gaze. "Hi, Pidge."

Lance glanced between them for a moment before pouting. Or at least Pidge thought he was pouting; she couldn't quite look away from Keith to check because… because this was Keith. The boy from her youth centre, the almost-mute boy who she'd thought so briefly of upon learning Red's name but had brushed aside as a mere coincidence.

This was unexpected. Unprepared for. Pidge had grown to love her Voltron friends in a strange and unspoken kind of way, and as much because they were those she could trust. They were the people who knew her outside of her real life and the struggles she fought through. But Keith was… Keith knew her. And it was apparent from the lack of profound surprise upon his face to mirror Pidge's own that he'd already made the connection as to who she was before they'd met.

How long has he known? She thought with rising horror. How long has it been that he's known I was the same person as the one online? He didn't say anything on Voltron, and we've talked heaps of times since I came out about my being gender fluid at the centre.

Pidge could only stare, eyes wide. Why hadn't he said anything? What did he think of Pidge? He knew her, both on Voltron and in real life, so what did she do? How was she supposed to handle this? How -?

"Well, I feel kind of put-out," Lance said, speaking into Pidge's silent crisis. "Why is Keith the special one out of the two of us? Am I so boring that you'd overlook me, Pidge?"

Lance's words drew Pidge's attention slowly towards him and she saw him pout more pronouncedly this time as he continued. "I have a pretty healthy ego, but this is a bit of a brutal blow."

"A pretty healthy ego?" Keith asked quietly, and why didn't he sound more freaked out?!

Hunk reached a hand towards Lance's shoulder, clapping him gently. "Buddy, I think 'healthy' might be short-changing the wellbeing of your ego."

"Which there is absolutely nothing wrong with," Lance said with all the confidence of his earlier smirk. "Nothing at all."

Pidge hardly heard his words. Her attention slid back towards Keith once more, and this time he met her gaze with his dark, unblinking eyes. She'd never paid much attention to Keith at the youth centre, but now she couldn't help but notice, and she could only think…

He was at the youth centre too. He must have gone for a reason. Libby said his foster family wanted him to come…

At that thought, Pidge felt her horrified surprise die slightly to be replaced with something else. A touch of understanding, maybe, because Keith – Red, her friend from Voltron – was really someone she'd sort of met in real life. And Keith was a 'troubled' child, just as people sometimes termed her. A youth in need of help, as the people at the centre had called them. Red was a foster kid, had issues of his own, and Pidge hadn't known. She hadn't known any of that on Voltron.

Maybe he did think less of her after she'd come out at the youth centre. Maybe he'd continued to think less of her each time they'd spoken on Voltron. And yet, looking up at Keith as he silently regarded her, Pidge couldn't imagine it. Red had always been a bluntly direct person; even if he kept his personal life hidden, that much Pidge had been able to discern, and she considered it guileless of him. He'd never acted any differently towards her, either on Voltron or at the centre, and when Pidge thought back to it, to how Red had been one of the first people she'd told about herself and how he'd been nothing if not accepting of her, she felt guilty for her thoughts.

Maybe her fears, as incessant even then as they were, were unfounded? This was Red, after all. She'd known him for months. Maybe he didn't hate her, and maybe he wasn't disgusted. Maybe, just maybe and regardless of how much of an impossibility it seemed for anyone to think so, he didn't consider her any differently to how he had before he'd known.

Lance had still been talking, Pidge realised as her own silent revelation dawned upon her under Keith's staring yet somehow non-confronting attention. Lance talked almost without pause for breath, too, which, as Pidge drew her attention back towards him, she recognised as being starkly reminiscent to his online character. Some things clearly didn't change between the real world and the virtual. Pidge would have to remember that, and maybe not just for Lance, either.

"… think I've got a right to be pretty confident, if I do say myself." He was actually regarding his fingernails pompously, eyebrow quirked once more. "It must be the ruff-and-tumble impression you're trying to emulate, Red. That must be it."

Red? Pidge thought, glancing back towards Keith. Does he like to be called Red in real life too? At the same time, she really saw the bruise on Keith's cheek, mottled into purples and yellows reminiscent of a macabre nebula, and remembered that he'd been dragged through the ringer but days before. Pidge might not know what had happened exactly, but the evidence for whatever it was stood right before her. She regretted her momentary panic all over again; making sure Red was alright was one of the main reasons she'd wanted to meet him.

"Are you alright, Keith?" Pidge found herself asking, and all eyes turned towards her once more.

"Huh," Hunk said. "Maybe you're right, Lance. Maybe you'll have some competition on the horizon."

"What?" Lance asked. "Competition?"

Hunk didn't get the chance to reply to him before Keith spoke in calmly quiet words. "I'm fine," he said. "Thanks, Pidge." Then he paused and, with the bluntness yet not-quite tactlessness he'd shown on Voltron, said, "What pronouns would you prefer today, by the way? Just so we know."

Pidge blinked, starting slightly. She'd never had anyone ask her that before. Not even on Voltron, because she'd always changed her pseudonym depending upon what gender she woke up as that day. Keith's question was entirely unprecedented and an unexpected tightness squeezed her chest, clogging in her throat.

No one had ever asked her that before. No one had cared to, or had even known to ask. Even Matt had always simply waited to be told.

"Thanks," she found herself croaking out before speaking anything else. Her feeble reply was nearly lost in the echoes of voices swirling around them. "I, um… she. She and her." A pause, and then again, "Thanks."

Keith shrugged. "No problem."

Pidge could only stare at him. Again. She didn't know Keith – or Red – particularly well, and knew next to nothing about him but for the fact that she'd abruptly realised he was a foster kid. Yet even so, they'd always spoken with like-mindedness online. He was smart and a natural born sceptic just like she was. Pidge liked that about him, liked it just as much as she liked baiting and bantering with Sharpshooter, or as much as she took support from Hunk constant compassion, companionship from the Princess, and almost idolised BlackLion.

Pidge was smart. She knew she was smart, logical, and she strove to think rationally. She had to remind herself of that sometimes, yet when she did, just as in that moment, she found she was reprimanding herself. Out of the both of them, the only one who seemed to be struggling with the situation was Pidge herself. Keith – or Red, or however he liked to be called – didn't have a problem with her. He didn't have a problem at all.

Maybe she was the only one with the problem. Surely she was, if she'd barely even recalled that he'd been on the doorstep hospital but days before.

Lance's voice once more interrupted her thoughts. "I'm missing something here. I think I'm missing something."

Glancing his direction once more, Pidge caught him shifting a suspicious gaze between Keith and herself with a frown upon his brow before settling his attention upon Keith. "What am I missing, Red?"

Despite accepting it herself, Pidge wasn't entirely sure she wanted to reveal how she and Keith knew one another, or that they'd known on another before now. She trusted the other paladins of Voltron perhaps more than she should for people she'd barely met, but she wasn't quite ready for that. Not yet.

Instead, she asked, "Why do you call him that? Do you prefer to be called Red, Keith?"

"No," Keith said.

"Yes," Lance said at the same time. When Keith glanced towards him, he only raised a shoulder. "What? Just like you said, you were the one who came up with the nickname."

Shaking his head, Keith turned back to Pidge, to Hunk right beside her who was regarding Lance with a smirk. Pidge didn't want to know what was passing through his mind at that moment. "Do you think we should go?" She said instead. "Weren't we supposed to meet Black –Shiro? In, like, an hour?"

She stumbled slightly over Shiro's name, for it felt a little strange to refer to him as such without meeting him in person first, but no one seemed to care. Hunk shook himself from his smirking glance between Keith and Lance, nodded, and jerked a thumb further into the station. "Yeah, we should probably go. A quick headcount?"

"Is that really necessary?" Pidge asked. "There's only four of us."

"Hey, and there's our DiffWitch," Lance exclaimed overloudly, though it blessedly didn't draw eyes in the already crowded station. "I wondered for a moment if you were an imposter."

"Do you mind not saying that name aloud," she said with a slight frown that didn't really carry any heat. She glanced towards Keith. "I pity you having to put up with him."

Keith shrugged as he turned and started to lead them further into the station. "You get used to it, I guess."

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" Lance said, striding up to fall into step alongside him. "I sense an underlying meaning beneath your words."

"You're imagining things."

"No I'm not."

"Of course you are. You have an overactive imagination, Lance."

"Is that sarcasm?"

"No…"

"It is. It's sarcasm, isn't it?"

Falling into step alongside Hunk, Pidge shook her head as she followed in Keith and Lance's wake. It was almost unfathomable to imagine that the two of them hadn't known each other a week ago. Or – no, Pidge had to correct herself. That was what she wasn't quite reconciling. They had known each other, just as she had known them too. They'd been friends even before they'd met.

At that thought, at finally having it settle just a little more firmly in her mind, Pidge eased just a little. She didn't feel quite so nervous when she considered it in such a light. These were her friends. They'd been her friends for months. It hardly mattered that she hadn't met them in person before. They really were her friends.

"You can't tell me it's not obvious."

Pidge glanced up at Hunk – did he have to be so damnably taller than her? – and cocked her head. "What?"

Hunk gestured with a big hand towards where Keith and Lance walked barely a handful of steps before them. He kept his voice at a stage whisper. "Those two. It's obvious, isn't it?"

"I don't really know what you're talking about. What's obvious?"

Hunk's expression grew briefly pained. "Come on, Pidge. Surely I'm not the only one who sees it, am I? Really?"

Pidge, feigning ignorance gave a slow shrug before edging into Hunk slightly to avoid a passer-by. She'd never quite liked the casual contact with strangers in busy areas. "I think you're probably imagining things, Hunk. Do you have a habit of projecting assumptions onto your friends? An overactive imagination like Lance, perhaps?"

Hunk grumbled to himself, clearly indignant, and biting back a smile Pidge conceded to letting him off the hook. "Thanks for getting back me about today, by the way. It was killing me not knowing what was going on."

"And not meeting everyone, I'll bet," Hunk said, smiling down at her with understanding. His exasperation had abruptly vanished.

Pidge nodded. "Yeah. It definitely made me feel a little out of the loop with all of you guys having met and me just…"

"Yeah, I get it. Or, well…" Hunk frowned slightly, thoughtfully. "I guess I really don't."

"Yes, because you've always been one of the ones to meet up with everyone," Pidge said with a grin. "You lucky bastard."

Hunk laughed. "It's not my fault. It just happens. With Lance, then you, then Keith and Shiro..."

"You're more cunning than people give you credit for, Hunk," Pidge said with false solemnity. She clicked her tongue as she shook her head. "Making those around you jealous by getting in first."

"That wasn't my intention!" Hunk exclaimed with more laughter than indignation. "I swear, I never really even thought about meeting anyone in person. I don't usually have the time for that sort of thing."

Pidge nodded her understanding. "Your mom?"

"Yeah. My mom."

"She isn't with us today?"

"You noticed?" Hunk teased.

Pidge jabbed an elbow into his side that Hunk didn't even seem to feel. "Shut up."

Hunk laughed again, and it was impossible to even feign disgruntlement when he did. Except that it died into thoughtful contemplation a moment later. "No, she's at home. She's fine but she's… I asked my gran if she would mind, which I feel horribly guilty for, but –"

"- you shouldn't," Pidge interrupted. "You're allowed to go out sometimes, you know. You're allowed to see your friends."

"Yeah, yeah," Hunk said with a visible attempt at shrugging off his brief melancholy. He reached one on his beefy hands to Pidge's head and – horrifyingly – scuffed what she knew was her already untameable hair. "Of course. I love hanging out with you guys."

"Don't make a habit of doing that," Pidge warned, swatting his hand away.

Hunk laughed again and, in spite of herself, Pidge found she smiled in response. That moment, as she was walking through the busyness of Penn Station alongside her friends, was when she really realised it. Just because she was only meeting them for the first time in real life that didn't make them any less of her fast friends. If anything… if anything, it made them something more. Pidge didn't have friends. Not really and not in the real world. She'd never really wanted them when she had her computers and those she spoke to on them.

But this. This was nice.

They boarded the LIRR line amidst a horde of other commuters, and Pidge found herself settling amongst her friends with little difference to how they acted on Voltron. Lance was still as mouthy as ever, speaking with just the same confidence as he did as Sharpshooter and loud enough to be heard over the rest of the noise in their carriage. He seemed to be the director of the conversation and made it his proclaimed duty to affiliate himself with Pidge as he hadn't had the chance to at the station.

Hunk was the same sweetheart that he'd been as Butterfingers, just as he'd been when she'd met him at the festival. He seemed to be nothing if not keeping an eye out for Pidge and replying to Lance's questions when they grew a little too rapid-fire – and intrusive – for Pidge's comfort. She would have to thank him for that later.

And Keith. Keith was just as selectively vocal as he was on Voltron, and Pidge considered that she would always read the red script of his written words in the largely flat and bluntly direct tone he unshakeably spoke in thenceforth. It was almost funny how reminiscent of his virtual personality his words were. All of their words, for that matter. Keith was Red, just as Lance was Sharpshooter and Hunk was Butterfingers. Pidge didn't know why she hadn't realised something so obvious the second she'd met them because it was starkly apparent to her after speaking to them for barely a handful of minutes.

It was easy. So easy. Pidge had never had friends like that before, and it didn't matter that they were all at least two years older than she was. It didn't matter at all.

The train trip went remarkably quickly in the midst of their conversation, and Pidge found herself speaking more than she had to anyone in a long time. She didn't usually speak to real people. Pidge had thought thought she'd be out of practice, but it felt no different to when she spoke on Voltron. That was nice, too. Easy.

When they drew into Long Beach Station, their carriage markedly less full than it had been, it was to alight onto the platform with a clutch of other passengers. Pidge peered around herself curiously, glancing along the length of the simplistic platform that was so different to those in New York City that it wasn't difficult to discern that they were similarly far removed from the inner city. Pidge didn't travel much. She'd barely been out of New York City a handful of times in her entire life, and most of those times she couldn't even remember.

Following in Lance and Keith's wake and alongside Hunk once more, for it seemed to be their unspoken order of positioning, they passed through the arching passage at the front of the station and into the afternoon glow. The sun had lowered noticeably since Pidge had first stepped into Penn Station, and she'd barely noticed the gradually dying light through the train carriage windows as they'd chugged towards Long Island Beach.

It was noticeable now, however, and Pidge was once grateful that they hadn't left it any later than they had. Her mom wouldn't be home until after ten o'clock that night and rarely made it back before eleven, but she could never be too careful. Not with her mom.

"Shiro's meeting us here, then?" Pidge asked, pausing in step and allowing the rest of the alighted passengers to flow from the station and towards the parking lot to the left, the right, and the street beyond. Hunk paused at her side, but it was Lance – predictably, because Pidge had decided he was the mouthpiece of their group – who replied.

"Yeah, and then we're walking to his place," Lance said. "I'm actually really keen, 'cause I haven't been yet and knowing it's Shiro's place it would be pretty upstanding, you know? He's the kind of guy who – hey, where are you going?"

Lance cut himself off as Keith, barely pausing alongside Pidge as Hunk and Lance did, picked up his step once more and continued at a stride towards the left parking lot. Lance, apparently finding being left behind by Keith unacceptable, immediately started after him. Pidge didn't need to wait long to see where they were headed and, as Hunk trailed behind them, stared mutely at the pseudo-named BlackLion.

Shiro was the mature one of the paladins. Alongside the Princess, it was apparent to everyone, not just to Pidge, that he kept them all in line. He would diffuse arguments when they drifted from playful banter and verbal tussles towards something more disgruntled. Pidge wouldn't deny that she was one of the primary people who contributed in just those tussles, more often than not baiting Sharpshooter into an argument. Intentionally, too, which was different to how she perceived Red as doing it. Red didn't seem to have much of a head for provocative comments and instead messaged them in ignorance.

Shiro was different. Even Hunk could get drawn into their arguments at times, though never particularly aggressively. Shiro never resorted to that and more often than not he smothered any potential arguments before they could arise. And Pidge wasn't annoyed in the slightest. Surprisingly, she didn't find it as irritating to have her potential and often needed verbal warfare deflected before it could reach fruition.

It was all because it came from Shiro. Because Shiro was a kind, compassionate, upstanding person who actually cared about them all and seemed to want the best for them and their chatroom. For whatever reason, Pidge got the impression that he didn't put a whole amount of stock in himself, that he didn't think he was anything special, but even without meeting him Pidge had known the truth of the matter. Not many people were as profoundly Good as Shiro clearly was.

More than that, he was in the army. Pidge had always had a soft spot for soldiers after Matt had enlisted. Before that, even, because Matt had always been an avid supporter of the armed forces. If for nothing else, Pidge admired Shiro for his service.

When she saw him, Pidge was rendered speechless for the second time that afternoon, and not because he was anything vastly aside from her expectations. If anything, Shiro seemed to embody everything that Pidge could think of him. He was older than the rest of them, though not by as much as Pidge had hitherto assumed, and taller too, as was starkly apparent when they drew up alongside him. Pidge had never felt more diminutive in her life, except for whatever reason it didn't feel bad simply because Shiro was smiling.

It was a noticeable and meaningful smile, too. Despite the scar across the bridge of his nose, despite a flare of whiteness in his fringe and the thinness of his cheeks that bespoke an unshakeable weariness, he had a nice face and his smile was welcoming. Kind. As open and welcoming as Pidge would have expected of BlackLion. Pidge hardly saw his empty sleeve. It seemed negligible when comparison to what Shiro was.

He was speaking to Keith as they approached, and from Pidge's perspective there was something in Keith's expression that bespoke distinct fondness. No, perhaps fondness wasn't quite the right word, but there was definitely something there. It was almost like –

"At first, I didn't think Keith really liked Shiro," Hunk all but whispered into Pidge's ear, leaning down towards her he slowed in step. "He kind of forcibly dragged Keith out of his comfort zone. It's the only reason he's stayed at my place for the last few days, I'd bet."

"Shiro did?" Pidge whispered back, slowing in turn. She couldn't really imagine Shiro forcing anyone, but then… No. She suspected he wouldn't force but would instead turn his gentle requests upon the subject of his attention. He nudge softly yet firmly and with something almost like a pleading order that somehow wasn't quite an order, and Keith would do what he was told. Pidge could see it now. She most certainly could.

Hunk nodded fervently in reply, slowing to a stop as Lance drew up next to Keith and appeared to leap headfirst into their conversation with audible gusto. "Yeah. It was pretty impressive, actually, according to Lance. But since then Keith has come around a bit, I think. He doesn't say anything –"

"Does Keith ever say all that much?" Pidge muttered.

Hunk grinned. "Not unless Lance baits him. But yeah, Keith likes Shiro now I think. I've never had an older brother or anything before, but I kind of see it like that for him, if that makes sense."

Glancing towards them, Pidge could definitely see that. She'd never seen the way she herself looked at Matt, but she recognised the expression that just barely touched Keith's otherwise blank face. His intent and unblinking stare, the way he looked up at Shiro as though he was attending to every quiet word that Shiro spoke and filing it away as lore. Pidge knew that feeling very well.

"So Shiro's sort of the older brother type of person, which would make Lance…"

Pidge glanced once more towards Hunk as he trailed off expectantly. She regarded him for a moment with as much blankness as she could muster. "What, exactly?"

Hunk huffed a sigh. "Oh, come on, Pidge, it's obvious, isn't it? Surely I'm not the only one who sees it."

"Do you have a matchmaking fetish by any chance, Hunk?"

Hunk didn't get a chance to defend himself for a moment later Shiro was calling them. "Pidge. Hunk. It's great to see you both."

Hell, he even sound like how I'd imagine him to, Pidge thought with a mental shake of her head. Then, picking up her feet, she crossed the last of the distance between them and stopped at Shiro's side. For whatever reason, whether it was that she'd already met Lance and Keith that day and so the nervousness had worn itself out or something else, she didn't feel uneasy approaching him. Certainly not when he smiled down at her so warmly.

"It's lovely to finally meet you, Pidge," he said. "I didn't know you wore glasses."

"Pidge raised her hands automatically to her face. "I – yes, I do."

"Obviously, unless it's just a ruse," Lance said with an amused snort.

"They really suit you," Shiro said. "I used to have to wear glasses before I got contacts and I can tell you, I don't look half as well in them."

"Really?" Was the communal reply to varying degrees of exclamation.

Shiro's smile widened. "Is it that surprising?"

"No," Keith said.

"I couldn't see you with glasses at all," Lance said at the same time.

"Not that I think they'd look bad," Hunk said, raising a placating hand. "Just that it's unexpected."

Shiro met each of their eyes when they spoke before shrugging. "It's nothing exceptional. Merely an aside and a momentary distraction from the topic at hand." He gestured to them all with a sweep of his arm. "Shall we head on back to my apartment? If that's okay with you all. I just thought, seeing as it was heading towards evening, it might be more appropriate circumstances for proper introductions."

Surprisingly, it was Pidge Shiro turned to. It took her a moment to deduce why he'd done it and she felt a horribly embarrassing warmth rise up her neck that she hoped didn't show. Her fellow paladins had all teased her in their own ways about her 'stranger danger' awareness, and though Pidge stuck firmly to her beliefs she didn't want to be known as that person. Self-preservation was an attribute she stood firmly in agreement with, but these were her friends. They were, even if it was the first time she'd met them.

Nodding with as much casualness as she could assume, Pidge offered a smile to match Shiro's. "Yeah, that's fine."

"Great!" Lance announced. "I'm keen to see this apartment we've all heard so much about, Shiro. Lead onwards!"

They started down a road that Pidge saw was called Park Avenue, and Pidge found herself in step between Shiro and Hunk. They fell into easy conversation, almost ridiculously easy considering Pidge hardly thought of herself as a conversationalist. The sound of the occasional car passing by was all but unnoticed, as negligible as the distant tang of seawater to the air.

"I'm sorry you had to travel out so far to come and see me," Shiro was saying, clearly sincerely apologetic. "I know it's quite a trek."

"Shiro, you're apartment's out here," Keith said quietly and not quite chidingly. "It's hardly your fault."

"Yeah, and we don't really mind," Lance added. "It's sort of like a road trip."

"An hour-long road trip? By train?"

"There are different kinds of road trips."

"Still, I'm sorry," Shiro said, sliding his own words into the midst of their exchange seamlessly. "Lance, I know you said you wanted to help out with your father's shop a little more this week, and Hunk, you've got enough on your plate."

Lance and Hunk brushed aside his words with a waved hand and a shrug respectively. "I could just drive sometime if I give my mamá and papá enough notice," Lance said.

"I thought you didn't like using parent's car," Keith said.

Lance pursed his lips. "Not really if I don't have to, but – wait, when did I tell you that?"

"You didn't. It was pretty obvious."

"It was?"

Keith blinked, and as Pidge glanced towards him she was afforded the understanding that Keith was indeed something of a guileless person. "Of course. Why would I lie about that?"

Definitely guileless.

"I could ask my brother to drive us if he's around," Pidge offered, breaking into the exchange. She'd noticed that Lance – and seemingly as a by-product Keith – seemed to dominate the conversation much of the time. For someone who appeared relatively subdued, Keith had spoken quite a lot that afternoon. Pidge would be damned if she didn't get her two cents in.

"Your brother?" Hunk said as all attention swung towards her. Pidge didn't necessarily like being the centre of such, but it wasn't so bad when it was from her Voltron friends. "Oh yeah, I remember you said your brother was back in town for a bit."

"Where was he, Pidge?" Lance asked. "You never told us."

"Didn't I?" Pidge asked casually, even knowing the truth of Lance's statement as she did. "Huh. I thought I had."

To Pidge, Matt was something of a private topic. Not because she was ashamed of him – far from it, in fact – but because he was precious enough that she didn't want to share him. Or at least she hadn't until that moment. It felt different meeting her fellow paladins in person. They felt more real, more like actual people with real stories to them, real lives that Pidge knew so little about. She found herself tentatively wanting to know just what those lives entailed as much as she felt the unfamiliar urge to speak of her own life. Such a thing had never really happened to her before.

"You've mentioned him a couple of times," Keith said quietly.

"I got the impression you were very fond of him," Shiro added.

Pidge found herself nodding. "I am. He's my – I mean, he's pretty incredible. He reminds me a bit of you, actually, Shiro?"

"Is that so?" Shiro said with a gentle smile. "I'd hardly warrant the term 'incredible', however. What's he like?"

There it is again, Pidge thought to herself. Not for the first time, Shiro seemed to self-deprecating. Not in an overt way, seeming to discredit himself more joking than sincerely, but it was apparent to her. Did he even realise he did it?

Brushing aside the thought, Pidge smiled. "He's pretty much the best person in the world. He's quite a few of years older than me but he never treats me like a little kid. He's always a lot of fun to be around and he's probably one of the few people in the world that really gets me. He was," she paused for a moment and had to remind herself that these people, her friends, all knew about her. "He was the first person who found out I was gender fluid."

Each of them nodded their understanding, and though Pidge waited to behold any comment, any kind of criticism or derision that they'd managed to hide behind the virtual wall of Voltron, none arose. She hadn't realised she'd actually been holding her breath until Shiro spoke. "You sound like you're very close."

Pidge dropped her eyes to her feet, feeling her neck flush slightly once more. "Yeah, you could say that. It's just a shame he lives quite far away sometimes."

"Where?" Hunk asked. "You never did tell us."

"He's in the army. He only finished his Comms specialist training last year and got deployed for the first time at the beginning of the year."

"Whoa, seriously?" Hunk said. "So your brother and Matt, they're both –?"

"In the army," Keith finished for him. "Yes, such would be apparent."

"That's awesome," Hunk breathed, and Pidge found she liked him just a little more than she already did at that moment. She'd always appreciated mutual admiration.

"I know," she said. "It kind of gives me something to aspire to."

"You want to enlist in the army?" Lance asked. Incredulity audibly touched his tone. "You do?"

Pidge leant forwards to peer around Shiro and pin Lance with a frown. "Is there something wrong with that?"

Lance shrugged. "I just wouldn't see you as the athletic type, and the army's pretty rigorous."

Pidge fell silent. She couldn't exactly dispute that assessment. Shiro spoke for her, however. "Fitness is only one component of it and can always be worked upon. I think it's the dedication, the commitment to your cause, that's really important."

Pidge glanced up towards him and couldn't help but smile gratefully. He returned her smile just as warmly.

"I always thought joining the army would be quite appealing," Keith murmured, barely audibly.

"What?" Lance all but yelped, and Pidge's glance in his direction saw him whip his gaze towards him. "You two?"

"Yeah, and I was actually thinking of maybe enlisting in the hopes of being a chef," Hunk said from Pidge's other side, though when she glanced towards him in turn he was very visibly holding back a smile.

"Seriously?" Lance exclaimed, his voice rising in both pitch and volume. "Are you pulling my leg, you guys?"

"No," Keith said at the same moment that Hunk snorted, "Yes." They dissolved into smiles and laughter respectively a moment later.

The rest of the walk back to Shiro's apartment, some twenty minutes or so from the station to his apology that, "We could have caught a bus but it takes about as long," was just as eventful in its chatter. Pidge had never been in a situation like that before, where she didn't hold out hopes of finding an out to the conversation and the nearest escape route from the social encounter. Or at least not before she'd first spoken to Hunk. Pidge hadn't realised what she'd been missing. Were all friends like that with one another?

When they drew to a stop it was barely a street back from the beachside. A row of seven storey apartments, sitting back from the road itself in their own drive that curved into a private roundabout cul-de-sac of sorts, stood before them. Pidge, as had almost become familiar that afternoon, could only stare. The apartments themselves, of pale brick and wide windows, were sleek and breathed of expense as much did their proximity to the beach.

Apparently Pidge wasn't the only one to think it either, for the admittedly easily awed Hunk sighed his admiration. "Whoa. This's got to be pretty expensive, Shiro. You seriously live here?" He apparently heard his own words for a second after he'd spoken them for he cringed slightly. "Sorry. Rude."

Shiro only shook his head before starting down the cobbled driveway. "It's alright, you're allowed to ask. But yes, they're pretty expensive."

"Are you loaded, man?" Lance asked, his tone slightly hushed as he followed after Shiro. "Seriously? Because you're not a pompous assholes at all."

"So all people with money are supposed to be pompous?" Keith asked, frowning not so much accusingly as with actual curiosity.

"I'm just saying," Lance replied.

"Why? Have you met many rich people?"

"Do I look like I've met many rich people?"

"What? What's that supposed to mean, exactly?"

Pidge couldn't help but snort and hastened to pick up her step as Shiro started towards one of the buildings, disappearing into the relative shade of the awning hanging over the front door. She couldn't help but spare a glance and a pointedly raised eyebrow towards Hunk. That was the sort of relationship he was insinuating between Lance and Keith? Really?

Filing after Shiro, Pidge's amusement faded as soon as she stepped inside the building. It was dark, evening rapidly settling upon them, but not enough to detract from the visible richness of hallways that Pidge stepped into. And that was just the hallway. Polished wooden floors, a stairwell of wide-steps and ornate bannister situated alongside an elevator with metal doors buffed so absolutely that when they stepped before them Pidge could see her reflection almost as well as she would be able to in a mirror. As it pinged opened, she had to shake her head at the carpeted interior with actual mirrors and what looked almost like genuine wooden panelling. Pidge could recognise the effect of wealth when she saw it, both her mom and dad raking their respective hauls through their jobs, but an apartment in Long Island Beach that looked like this? Hunk was right in his opinion. Very much so, it would seem.

"Um… I think I might take the stairs," Lance said from behind her.

Shiro, leading into the elevator, paused and glanced towards him. "Sorry? Why's that?"

A glance towards Lance found his visibly uneasy. Pidge was surprised at that; he might feign incredulity, but she hadn't thought it possible for Lance to actually be intimidated. Apparently she'd been wrong. "My shoes are filthy, man. I don't want to dirty the carpet or whatever." Then he turned towards the stairs and was starting up them before Pidge could point out that actually, his shoes weren't that dirty at all.

"I'll go with him," Keith said, starting after Lance. "Make sure he doesn't get lost or whatever."

"It's number thirty-three," Shiro called after him. "And be careful with your ankle, Keith,"

"I will," Keith called back as he disappeared up the steps, footsteps rapidly fading.

"Did I make them uncomfortable?" Shiro asked, filing into the elevator alongside Pidge and Hunk.

Hunk shrugged. "Not Keith so much I don't think, but Lance will get over it if he is. Don't sweat it."

Shiro didn't appear entirely reassured. He seemed to be very much disheartened by the possibility, in fact. Pidge couldn't help but want to comfort him, though she was hardly the comforting sort of person. Matt had always been better at that than she was. If she'd chosen one of her Voltron friends to speak reassuringly, it would have been Shiro, too. Or the Princess, perhaps, but the Princess…

"He'll work it out himself," she agreed with Hunk, and couldn't help but cringe internally at how careless her words sounded. Shiro smiled at both she and Hunk gratefully, however, so it couldn't have been so disastrous. Or maybe Shiro was just being the nice person she knew he was.

They waited outside of Shiro's door for Keith and Lance's arrival, and Pidge's offhanded reassurance proved justified for in his brief trip up the stairs Lance appeared to have fortified himself. Maybe he'd simply needed a moment alone– or Keith, as it was – to collect himself. They drew alongside them and at a glance from Shiro, followed after him as he opened the door.

It was nice, Shiro's apartment. Really nice, the rooms open and pale, even before the lights were flicked into illumination. Pidge followed Shiro down a wide hallway that trickled into a living room that was more a combined dining-room kitchen than a separate room itself. The same polished wooden floorboards stretched through each room, branching off into what a curious poking of Pidge's head into each doorway proved to be a almost blindingly white bathroom, a bedroom, and something that might have been a small study of sorts but was so empty of anything but a desk that it hardly warranted the term. As an apartment for one person it was, in Pidge's opinion, just a little bit huge.

"This is… really nice," Hunk said from behind her as they trailed after Shiro into the living room.

"You really are loaded," Lance said in what sounded like agreement. Not resentful, mind, which Pidge thought did him credit considering his previous comment about rich people.

Shiro turned towards them with a smile. "Thanks. I didn't ever really spend a whole lot of time here before I… my accident, but I suppose it's homely enough."

Homely wasn't exactly the word Pidge would have used to describe it. Open, spacious, and sleekly minimalistic from the low couches to the sharp planes of what looked like granite bench tops in the kitchen. Pidge decided that if she ever lived alone when she was older she'd want an apartment just like this.

"Why not?" She found herself asking.

Shiro turned slowly in place as though surveying the room. "I guess it always just feels a little too big for me," he murmured.

Pidge could understand that, given that the apartment really was quite big, but she didn't really think that was what Shiro was referring to. He shrugged aside his thoughtfulness a moment later, however, and turned back towards their small party. "Make yourselves comfortable, though. Can I get anyone a drink?"

They settled themselves easily enough around the living room after an initial moment of awkwardness – and Lance's whispered "I can't sit on actual leather couches" and Keith's blatant reply of "Why not?" – and it was comfortable. Easy, just as Pidge had found it the entire afternoon. She sincerely regretted that she hadn't taken steps to meeting her all sooner.

"It's a shame the Princess can't be here," she found herself saying as Shiro returned with a tray drinks for everyone. It wasn't cold in the apartment but the night itself was cool enough that the offered cocoa was appreciated. "It would be nice if we all got together."

Hums of agreement sounded around the room. "None of us have ever met her, have we?" Hunk asked.

"Not through lack of trying," Lance said with a smirk. "I'm not one to brag –"

"Really?" Pidge couldn't help but ask.

"- but I'm kind of a ladies man," Lance continued, ignoring her. "She'd probably be all over me if we met."

"Do you really think that?" Keith asked from the cushion at his side, pausing in the act of raising his mug to his lips. "That you're so attractive to women? What makes you think so well of yourself?"

Pidge couldn't help but snort into her own mug at the expression Lance's face sagged into. He blinked rapidly before stuttering out a reply. "A-are you insulting me?"

Keith tipped his head slightly, thoughtfully, and Pidge's silent congratulations of his words faded. No, surely he wasn't… "No? It was a serious question."

Lance shook his head. "How can you ask questions like that?"

"Like what?"

"So direct like that. Don't you feel embarrassed?"

Keith shook his head slowly. "Why would I feel embarrassed?"

Pidge stifled a laugh into her mug once more but it managed to draw Keith's and Lance's combined attention this time. She shook her own head. "I like you, Keith. Or is it Red that we're supposed to call you? I never asked."

"No, only I call him that," Lance said before anyone else could reply.

"Are you forbidding other people from doing it?" Hunk asked curiously, lips twitching slightly.

Lance pouted. "No. I'm just saying that no one else does." For all his words, Pidge thought they sounded almost territorial. Which was ridiculous, but apparently she wasn't the only one who thought so for the way Hunk poked her with an unobtrusive toe.

"Is that a common thing, then?" Shiro asked, glancing around the circle of their little group. The lounge suite was more than large enough for them all. "To call one another by your online name? That's normal?"

Pidge shook her head. "No. Not at all, really. Or at least… I mean, most people that I know of don't really see one another offline. Mostly because they live so far apart and all, but yeah." Or because they don't like talking to people in real life.

"Do you spend a lot of time talking online?"

Shrugging, Pidge shook her head once more. "No more than the next person, I don't think," she said, which wasn't entirely true but she didn't like to think about just how many forums and chatrooms she was a part of. Besides, it felt somehow disloyal to admit as much to her Voltron friends. Unfaithful, even.

"Even you haven't met the Princess then, Shiro?" Hunk asked. "You seem to be the closest out of all of us to her. I think she likes you."

"Rude!" Lance said, frowning at Hunk, though he disregarded his discontent a moment later. "But seriously, have you? Do you know her name?"

Shiro shook his head. "No, I haven't met her. I'd like to, but maybe she's just not ready for that just yet. Maybe in the future. And no, Lance, I don't know her name."

"Dammit," Lance muttered.

"She'd probably tell you if she wanted you to know," Keith said, peering absently into his mug.

"Which she clearly doesn't," Pidge couldn't help but add.

Lance frowned at her, leaning back in his seat and hooking an ankle up onto his knee. "I resent that, Pidge. You can be a right bitch sometimes."

"Lance," Shiro said warningly.

Pidge spoke over him. "Why, thank you. I take that as a compliment."

Lance shook his head. "You shouldn't."

"And yet I do."

"Well that's hardly any fun. How do people insult you then?"

"They try and fail. Clearly."

"That's one way to go about it," Hunk said. "Un-insult-able."

"I'm fairly certain that's not a word," Keith said dubiously.

"I'm fairly certain you'd be right," Lance agreed. "You're a smart 'un, you are, Red."

"Please don't mock me by referring to my intelligence in a derogatory manner."

"I'm not mocking! I'm being entirely sincere!"

Pidge couldn't help but laugh. It felt almost exactly the way it did on Voltron – Lance and Pidge arguing good-naturedly, Keith stating something with such practical directness that it was difficult to discern if he was being joking or not, Hunk's thoughtful contributions and Shiro's mediation. The only one they were missing was the Princess. Pidge found she regretted that more and more after that as their conversation turned towards less debatable subjects. If the paladins of Voltron could get along so easily, so impossibly and improbably easily, then surely their final member would slot into place perfectly too. Wouldn't she?

Pidge forgot herself. She forgot about any personal uneasiness, about her concerns for her friends and what they might think of her, and about how she could be judged for the way she acted or who she was. She forgot that she had a curfew that she had to be home for and simply revelled in the delights of camaraderie and the pizza Shiro ordered when the evening evolved into night.

Pidge forgot herself so much that she asked Keith what she really shouldn't have. "I didn't see you last Wednesday, though, Keith. Where were you? You usually always come."

As one, the rest of her friends paused in their conversations, jaws locked mid-bite and turned towards her. Then, similarly as one, Shiro, Lance and Hunk turned towards Keith.

Pidge wished she could bite out her tongue, and not only because she'd mentioned something that she'd wanted to keep private even from most of her Voltron friends. What she had at the youth centre, what she and Keith both had, was theirs and theirs alone. They shouldn't be forced to share it, even if they knew one another attended.

More than that, however, it was the sudden blankness of Keith's expression that made her cringe. Keith, she'd realised, didn't let himself show a whole lot of expression as it was, but it was worse this time than it had been before. Utter blankness settled upon his feature, and when he affixed his eerily unblinking stare upon her, Pidge felt as though she'd very much said something wrong. Something she shouldn't have mentioned at all. Keith's lips pressed together just slightly as though to forbid words from coming forth.

Lance, unfortunately, held no such qualms about speaking. Glancing between Pidge and Keith, his expression grew from furrowed confusion into incredulity. "I knew it. I knew it. At the station, after what you said – you guys do know each other, right?"

Pidge cringed once more, outwardly this time, and then again with Keith's short, "Yes."

Even Lance in his triumph must have been able to hear the reluctance in Keith's tone. He deflated slightly before glancing around at each of them, meeting Shiro's and Hunk's similarly curious expressions and grazing his eyes over Pidge briefly before turning back towards Keith. "Have I put my foot in something? Is this a sensitive topic?"

After a long pause, Keith shrugged. He picked at his pizza for a moment, eyes fixed upon the slice, before speaking. "Not to me. Pidge?"

Pidge ignored the three pairs of eyes that turned towards her again, staring instead at Keith. She really wished she hadn't spoken, even if it was by accident. "I don't mind," she said quietly.

"Then it's fine," Keith said. "We just go to the same youth centre."

Silence met his words, which was broken only after a whole minute by Hunk's nearly inaudible, "Oh."

"Sorry," Shiro said, though he shouldn't have been apologising for anything. "We didn't mean to intrude upon something private."

Keith raised his gaze towards him, flashed a glance towards Pidge, then back to Shiro. "It's fine. You've all basically found out everything private about me. What's one more thing?"

From anyone else, Keith's words might have been resentful. They might have been frowning or accusing or even hateful for the intrusion of having their privacy taken forcibly from them. Pidge knew how much Keith valued his; it was apparent even through Voltron that he didn't like speaking of himself. But his words were blank and almost careless, as though he really didn't care that they all knew. In some ways, Pidge thought that made it even worse. For a private person, shouldn't he have been more invested in that privacy?

But he continued a moment later just as offhandedly. "In answer to your question, Pidge, I just had a meeting with the social worker who's assigned to me last Wednesday. They don't happen that often but I have to be there for all of them."

Pidge really, really wished she hadn't spoken, then. She knew next to nothing about Keith's foster care experience, but surely it mustn't have been anything profoundly positive. Not if he hadn't said a word of his foster family to anyone. He would have said something, wouldn't he?

"Sorry," she mumbled, turning her own gaze down to her half-eaten pizza. She'd abruptly lost her appetite. "I didn't mean to pry."

"I wouldn't have told you if I didn't want to," Keith replied, just as offhandedly as he had before.

"Is it… was it alright?" Lance asked, and for the first time in Pidge's memory he actually sounded tentative.

Pidge raised her gaze for long enough to see Keith shrug. "They're never particularly pleasant. The Tulson's aren't a really bad family, but I guess you'd say I'm what the system classifies as a 'problem child'."

"A problem child?" Hunk asked, and he sounded almost fearful. He was glancing around their circle of seated with eyes blown wide as though seeking an answer, if not expressly from Keith. Then, likely hearing the question in his own words, he hastened to retract them. "No, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry, it's just –"

"I said it's fine," Keith said, leaning forward to place his own slice of pizza on a plate on the coffee table before him. "I don't really care. It's nothing that exciting so I've just never really found a need to say anything about it."

Sure that's the reason, Pidge thought, but she couldn't say it. Not after her botched up previous attempt at conversation. The ease of their discussion had faded beneath the tension that welled in everyone but an openly blank-faced Keith. It was regretful, so regretful, because Keith had never wanted to say anything. Pidge knew what it was like to want to keep some things a secret. She shouldn't have asked. Everyone had their problems, the things they wanted to keep behind closed doors. They shouldn't be forced to open those doors.

But Keith continued just as casually as he had before a second later. "I've been through a lot foster homes. At first it was just because none of them really fit properly, then one…" He paused, seeming to deliberately decide to skip over whatever he'd been about to say. "It wasn't a great experience, and I got sick of it all. To say I haven't been easy for the families since would probably be the nicest way of saying it." Reaching for the glasses of water Shiro had dotted the table with, he shrugged as he sipped. "A problem child."

No one seemed able to speak in reply to that. Not even Lance who Pidge had reached the conclusion had something to say about everything. Not now, though. He was looking at Keith with a confusing expression that could have been pity, or sympathy, or simply regret, or maybe something else entirely. Wariness? Anger, even? At who, Pidge couldn't tell. A glance at Hunk found his expression just as sorrowfully cast, and Shiro wore his own a little pained.

It was Shiro who spoke first. "I don't think you're a problem child, Keith."

"Oh no, I am," Keith said, glancing towards him. "There's basically a label on my file."

"You've seen your file?" Lance asked a little redundantly.

"No," Keith replied with a shrug. "But I don't need to."

"Regardless," Shiro continued, "I don't believe that. I think they're just assigning you to the wrong families."

"I don't think they could get it wrong so many times."

"Clearly they have," Lance muttered, and there was definitely anger in his tone this time.

"Or," Keith said, glancing towards him once more, "there's a common denominator." He took another sip of water before lowering the glass to cradle in his lap. His knuckles were a little bruised, Pidge saw for the first time. It was a detached observation. "Not that it matters. I've only got a little longer until I can move out anyway. When I'm eighteen."

"What?" Lance blinked rapidly. "You're moving out of your home?"

"It's not really my home," Keith said. "I've only been with the Tulson's for a few months."

"Where will you go?" Hunk asked, his voice wavering slightly. Hunk was clearly an empathetic person. "Wait, I can't even think… how would you even support yourself? Where would you live?"

"I haven't decided that yet. But I have a job, and I have my savings. I'll find somewhere."

It sounded wrong. To Pidge's ears, it sounded so wrong. She had her problems – with her mom, with herself, with her stupid struggle to find acceptance that should be simply from herself but she needed from other people. Hunk had his problems with his own mom, the indirect cause of his dropping out of school as he'd admitted on Voltron to never wanting to. Pidge knew Lance had his issues with his family that he wouldn't acknowledge as being issues, and Shiro from his accident that had forced him from active duty. Even the Princess clearly had something going on, even if she didn't admit it openly.

None of that seemed quite as immediate as what was happening to Keith, however. It could have been that he was so blasé about his situation, or that he didn't seem to hold any particular attachments to the family he'd lived with for months. It could have been that he was about the only one in the room who didn't seem to see there was something very wrong with his situation, or to be concerned that he'd been seriously injured the week before and hadn't wanted to go back to the house he lived in.

Or it could have been all of that together. All of it. To Pidge, it just seemed so wrong.

"You can come and stay with me."

At Shiro's words, all eyes turned towards him. He sat all but frozen in his seat in the perfect posture he'd assumed hours before when he'd first taken it. That was simply who Shiro was, Pidge had realised. It was purely him. Open and proper and good. Caring, as was apparent from the soft yet steady focus he trained upon Keith.

Keith stared at him with the same intentness he did everyone, the kind of gaze that suggested undivided attention. "What?"

"Here." Shiro made a vague gesture with his hand to encompass the apartment. "If you've got nowhere else to go, come and live here."

Keith was shaking his head. "No. I don't want to do that."

"Why not?"

"That would be intruding."

"It's not intruding if you're asked first," Hunk said. "Just like with me. I wanted you to come to my place."

"You were forced to take me because I asked," Keith said. "There's a difference."

"Technically it wasn't you who asked," Lance said. "That was me."

Keith shook his head once more. "No. That's not fair."

"How isn't it fair?" Pidge asked, because she was truly at a loss. Whatever was going through Keith's head wasn't making any sense. "Shiro asked you, and I'm assuming it's not because he doesn't want you around. He wouldn't ask if he didn't mean it."

"I'm not an obligation," Keith said, and his voice sharpened. A frown settled upon his brow, breaking through the blankness. "I don't need pity and I don't need you to adopt me because I'm some homeless foster kid, Shiro."

Ah, Pidge thought, as understanding dawned. I see. That's probably how it's been with his other foster families.

Shiro clearly realised the same thing, for when he spoke it was in an echo of Pidge's thoughts. "You're not an obligation, Keith. I don't think you was for your foster families either, because I don't think they would have taken you otherwise, but for me you're definitely not. I want you to move in with me."

"No one would want that," Keith said. It would have sounded pitiful except that Pidge doubted Keith had ever sounded pitiful or self-pitying in his entire life. "And I can take care of myself."

"So you're just going to leave?" Lance said, straightening in his seat. His attention was fixed upon Keith as though he couldn't drag it away. "You're, what, just going to take off somewhere as soon as you turn eighteen and don't have to be fostered anymore?"

"That was the intention," Keith said, shrugging a shoulder. "I guess."

Lance's hand twitched, and it might have been Pidge's imagination but she could have sworn it was an aborted attempt to make a grab for Keith as though to physically hold him in place. His hand curled into a fist on his knee instead. "But…"

"Keith," Shiro said, and the way he spoke drew Pidge's attention compulsively. His expression was hardened but also somehow pleading. "We really wouldn't want you to just disappear."

"I don't think disappearing is really possible in this day and age," Keith said.

"Actually, dozens of people go missing just in New York State every year," Hunk said quietly. Pidge cringed. She wished he hadn't said that.

"You can't just… you can't…" Lance seemed to be struggling for words and actually glanced towards Shiro as if seeking assistance. "You're not going to just let him leave, are you?"

"No one's letting me do anything," Keith said, the frown back in his voice as much as it was upon his face. "I can do whatever I want."

"Not 'til you're eighteen, you can't," Lance said, his voice rising.

"Which is only a few months away. Like I said. And it would be my decision."

"Shiro?"

Lance's single word was almost desperate, and Pidge couldn't help but stare at him. His hand was curled so tightly into a fist that he looked on the verge of punching someone. A glance exchanged with Hunk and Pidge couldn't help but wonder. Maybe Hunk's claim wasn't so hard to conceive after all.

Shiro spoke with all rationality and maturity that made Pidge originally think he was closer to thirty than twenty when he spoke on Voltron. "Keith, we'd really like it if you stuck around. You're right, and it is your decision, but we care for you. We'd like you to stay with us. And I really would like it if you decided to take me up on my offer. Like I said, this apartment's really too big for me. You'd be doing me a favour."

Keith stared at Shiro, blankness reasserting control of his features and smoothing away his frown. Pidge warily considered that it had a different kind of meaning to it this time, however. It wasn't the blankness of controlled expressionlessness but instead of incomprehension. Pidge wasn't an empathetic person, not like Hunk, and she didn't even really considered herself sympathetic, but she felt when she saw Keith like that. She wondered if anyone had ever sincerely told Keith they cared about him and what he did.

It put her own issues into perspective just a little. She knew it was all relative, that everyone's problems were profound and paramount to them to their own degree, but Pidge had always had someone who cared enough to tell her they loved her. Matt certainly did. Her mom too even admitted it on the odd occasion.

"But," Keith began, paused, then continued. "That's not really fair."

"If it makes you feel any better, you could contribute a little to the rent," Shiro said. "You don't have to, as I've got it covered, but really, if it would make you more comfortable."

Keith regarded Shiro for a moment and his silence hung tangibly in the air. Pidge found she was almost holding her breath as she glanced between them. Then, slowly and almost hesitantly, Keith nodded. "I'll… I'll think about it."

It wasn't a yes, but it was something at least. Pidge exhaled slowly and as silently as she could. She noticed she wasn't the only one to do so. Shiro nodded his head briefly and smiled. "Of course it is. Take your time."

"Thanks," Keith muttered, raising his glass to his lips once more. "I will."

"Just don't leave before you do, man," Lance said, and finally raising his fist, he knuckled Keith in the shoulder in what couldn't really be deemed a punch. It was made even less so by the fact that he slung an arm across Keith's shoulders a moment later. It was apparently not an entirely unfamiliar gesture, for Keith merely glanced towards him as he did so. Strange, given that Pidge wouldn't have thought he'd be open to such a thing. "We like having you around, okay? So sue us."

Pidge didn't speak her agreement, even if she felt it. For a moment, just a moment, the fragile joy she'd experienced that evening had hung suspended on the edge of a precipice. That Keith might leave, someone that she barely knew and had only just met in person, somehow seemed like one of the worst things that could happen in her whole world. Pidge knew she wasn't the only one to think so, either. She could see it in the expressions of her friends around her. Voltron meant something, and not just to her.

Their circumstances still stood teetering on that precipice, but at least they had momentarily balanced itself. Taking another bite of pizza that she hardly tasted, Pidge was grateful for that at least. For that moment she could revel in the company of her friends.

Damn you, Keith. I'm not going to let you take it away from me just by leaving, she thought, all but glaring at him across the room. No way in hell are you just going to leave.