My Paladin Not Safe

by uncouthpeasant

In an AU where Shiro didn't die after the battle with Zarkon. Why? Because I said so. Instead, Shiro wakes up on the Astral Plane. He's fine, if a little traumatized. But the Black Lion won't let him go back to his team. Something about a danger. A him. Basically, BAMF Lance Evil Clone Shiro being witness to it all. Roll with it- it'll be fun!

10. Chapter 10

OH MY GOSH HI I'M SO SORRY GUYS

Hi:)

I'm back.

It's been a while.

I'll be honest: I don't have an excuse other than a new fic because I'm ridiculous (I'll post it here pretty soon) and an inability to juggle school right now.

Ya girl is living the Jr. Lifestyle and right now and it is certainly something.

ANYWAY
To make up for the wait, I made myself finally wrap this plot point up se we can get the action going next time!

I've got the whole story planned out. I'm very excited.

Also: note that I took your guys' notes and changed my transition style. From here on out, a change in pov is signaled by a bold *** and the name and/or time.

Let me know if it works better:)

Chapter 10- Plan Seagull

Shiro

Shiro really wasn't sure what he hoped to accomplish here.

The majority of him was very sure that nothing would come of this. In fact, he was certain of it.

But still. If Shiro could reach the resident geniuses, maybe they could help him get back to his team.

Shiro stared up at Hunk from his spot on the floor, unsure of how to proceed.

Did he… touch him? Speak to him?

"Uh," Shiro started uncertainly. "I'm… I'm not sure what to do here, guys."

Pidge mumbled grumpily in her sleep, burrowing deeper into her blanket burrow. Hunk chuckled, adjusting quickly to make sure he didn't spill anything on her as she wiggled.

"Alright, then," Shiro breathed, reaching through Hunk's exposed knee, "here goes nothing."

Phasing through things was weird at best. Shiro could feel the subject he was touching, just not physically. It was like… like plunging his hand into a box of cold air. He knew it was cold air, could feel the difference in temperature, but couldn't physically grasp the air.

Touching a person was like plunging his hand into warm air: Kind of weird, a little uncomfortable, but at the same time strangely comforting.

Shiro watched Hunk's face closely as he bit into another blue biscuit for any sign of recognition or confusion. He got excited for a moment as Hunk's eyes widened dramatically, though that faded as the broad-shouldered teen poked Pidge with a gentle hand and a half laugh.

"Keep trying to tickle me and I'll leave you to be your own pillow."

"Rude," she grumbled.

Shiro sighed, but didn't move his hand.

"Alright, maybe it's a verbal thing. Hunk, buddy? Can you hear me?"

He was met with more munching.

"Okay, Shiro, think. What do you do with Lance?"

Has Paladin gotten the spark to happen? Green questioned, startling the living daylights out of Shiro.

"Wha- no. No, I haven't."

Maybe that's the issue? Yellow joined gently.

"I don't suppose there's anything you can do on your end, is there?"

No. Lions don't have that ability, Green answered.

Try focusing on one word. Maybe Yellow Paladin will be able to feel then, Red suggested.

"I can do that. What should I focus on?"

Anything.

Very helpful, Red.

Shiro thought for a moment.

"Seagulls."

What is a seagull? Green inquired eagerly.

Oh! It is a small white bird commonly found near large bodies of water on Earth. They are very loud and steal food from humans.

"Did Lance teach you that?"

Yes, Red Paladin did, Blue responded smugly.

They sound awful.

"Yeah, Red, they kind of are," Shiro chuckled. "Let's see if this works."

10:00 am

Lance

Lance stepped out of the bathroom, pulling on a warm sweatshirt he and Pidge had found in lieu of his typical jacket. Today wasn't really about fashion; it was about comfort. It was also for this reason that Lance put his shoes away and was wearing some very comfy, very fuzzy socks.

Now he had to do actual work.

Blegh.

"Well, I can't do any cleaning or room maintenance until the others are up and about," Lance mused, running a hand through his still-damp bangs. "But I can take care of the bridge and stuff, right?"

No one answered. Obviously.

But whatever.

"Alright, guys," Lance turned to the mice waiting patiently on the floor near his socked feet. "Care to show this confused Red Paladin where Coran keeps his cleaning supplies?"

Plachu nodded eagerly, the others following energetically.

"Awesome. Hop up." Lance crouched down, holding his hands in front of him so that the mice could climb aboard them. He then gently maneuvered them into the large front pocket of his sweatshirt (another large piece of reasoning for him wearing the oversized garment). Plachu hung back on Lance's hand, pointing up towards the Paladin's shoulder. "You got it," he grinned, raising the mouse up to rest on his shoulder. "Lead the way."

One of these days, Lance really needed to talk with Allura and Coran about labeling.

"Why?" you ask?

That question would be better addressed to the gaping hole in the middle of the flight of stairs Lance had tripped down.

He was going to blame Platt.

Lance was fine, as were all the mice (Lance had been lucky enough to twist midair and land on his back, so the mice were all good).

The stairs, however, were decidedly not.

See, Lance had made it to one of Coran's handy-dandy cleaning closets and grabbed everything the mice pointed to. Plachu ran down his arm to dart into Lance's sweatshirt to join the other mice, and then Lance was on his way with his arms laden with supplies that would hopefully do something.

And then Lance slipped.

He'd been jittery all morning (maybe he shouldn't have had that caffeine nightmare?). His hands hadn't really stopped shaking once, and his leg kept twitching at random. If he was standing still, a muscle in his left thigh would pulse and flex without his consent.

Up to that point, everything had been fine. He ignored the tics, they ignored him.

But noooooo~. He just had to eat shit on the stairs.

One minute Lance was bopping his way down the steps, ready to skedaddle over to the medbay and lower-level restroom to see if anything needed immediate attention. From there he'd planned to head to Hunk and Pidge's room, maybe the Little Paladin's room on that floor if enough of his friends were up and about by then and weren't using it.

He needed to take care of bedding, that much he knew. Maybe towels.

The next thing he knew, Lance was tossing everything in his hands to the side in favor of rotating to fall the rest of the way down on his back.

Did it hurt? Yes.

Did he need a minute before getting up again? Hell yes (anyone else notice that Wired Lance inspired a lot more cussing? His mama was going to kill him.)

But he was fine.

No harm done.

And then Lance looked up.

One of the chemicals Lance had been carrying had burst upon impact with the fifth step down, bursting forth in a small explosion of bright orange liquid. It sat, bubbling, as Lance stared on in shock.

He looked down at the mice peeking out of his pocket for answers.

"What even is that stuff?!"

Chuchule shrugged.

"You… you guys didn't know what I was grabbing either?!"

He got four sheepish nods of affirmation.

Madre de Dios.

"When were you going to tell me this?"

The unspoken "Never?" was enough to have Lance emotionally aware enough to get back on his feet. His back twinged and groaned in protest, but he shoved it aside in favor of jogging up the stairs to stare at the ever-deepening hole in the castle steps.

"Well," Lance said, placing a hand on his hip, "on the bright side, we now know to never use this thing. Like, ever. On the downside, I have no idea how to clean this."

Chulatt patted Lance's wrist gently where it rested near the large pocket.

"Hm?"

Chulatt took that as an invitation, scurrying up the tie-dye (yes his sweatshirt was tie-dye deal with it, Keith, I like the colors-) sleeve to rest on Lance's shoulder like Plachu had earlier.

"Please tell me you have a solution; I'm afraid to touch the stuff."

Chulatt, dear sweet angel that the mouse was, nodded determinedly and pointed down the direction Lance had been going.

They managed to make it down the rest of the stairs without incident, for which Lance was very grateful. Chulatt led him and the mice to another hidden closet.

"Chulatt, I'm not sure this is the answer. We were just at one of these; I doubt we find anything that any of us can identify-"

The door opened to reveal a room wall to wall with cleaning bots.

"Woah," Lance finished, staring wide-eyed at his salvation. "Chulatt, you're my new favorite pers-uh, mouse." The mouse wasn't exactly thrilled with this, stomping on Lance's shoulder grumpily. Lance leveled a calm look with the mouse. "Why are you mad? We literally live with Hunk; what'd you expect?"

That mostly appeased all four mice, three of which were still cranky at not being Lance's favorite.

"Okay! Moving on!" Lance clapped his hands together, preparing to step into the room. "Who here knows how to start one of these things?"

Fun fact: when starting up a cleaning bot, don't let the mice decide which button to press when.

On the bright side, Lance figured out where the incinerator room was and how to use it.

On the downside, they were down a cleaning robot.

Whoops.

It didn't take long, however, to figure things out from there. Lance was grateful for that because it meant that he didn't have to go and wake up Coran because technology had failed him.

The large robot in front of Lance whirred to life, eyes lighting a pleasing blue as the six-foot frame unfolded to its full height. Lance gulped, stepping back out of the doorway as it came barreling out into the corridor.

"It took you long enough!" it suddenly bellowed. "Coran, need I rem-"

"Will you be quiet?!" Lance hissed, clapping his hands over the robot's speaker. It was a rounded rectangle on the robot's "face" that lit up yellow whenever it spoke. The robot was huge, with shoulders wider than Hunk or Shiro's, and a light magenta body with wheels where legs should have been.

In an odd way, the robot reminded Lance of a character from that really old movie Robots with Robin Williams.

Ahhh, what a classic.

"Who in quiznak are you?!" the robot gasped, affronted at having been interrupted.

"Uh, I'm Lance? Blue- whoops, Red- Red Paladin of Voltron?"

"Are you asking me or telling?" it- they?- snarked. If they had eyebrows, Lance was very sure that one would be raised.

"Telling? Wait- I- hang on." Lance waved his hands around trying to get a grip on the situation. "I am Lance McClain, the Red Paladin of Voltron."

The robot nodded. They blinked.

Lance blinked expectantly.

They stared on passively.

Lance fought the urge to tap his toes or pop his wrists.

The castle filtration system clicked on, Lance able to hear it in the wall next to him.

Lance looked down at his feet, rocking back and forth idly.

The robot's eyes flickered.

Lance turned to the side briefly, looking back up at the robot. "And you are…?"

"Oh, I thought you'd never ask! Honestly, aliens these days-" 'scuse you?! Lance mentally snarked "- I would have thought that Coran would teach you young ones better than this. I am Shinaquiz Altea Betabot Prime, head of all Castle maintenance and repair services. My sole purpose is to serve the royalty of Altea, current monarch being Princess Allura, and any and all Paladins of Voltron should they need my services. I was created at the dawn of the Altean empire with the task of being constantly available to the citizens so that the Altean species didn't fall prey to the 'haves' and 'have nots' debacle that so many other civilizations have been ruined by. There are many others like me, which you have likely been made aware of by finding me. I have no flaws, no quirks, and no errors, making me the most sophisticated robot ever developed. I also am capable of teaching and translating over a quadrillion dialects and scripts as well as containing an extensive history in my memory banks. How may I serve you today, Red Paladin?" they rattled off.

Lance took a moment to process. "You've been on the Castle this entire time?"

The robot blinked, Lance taken aback by their deadpan tone. "Are all the Paladins this quick? Yes, Red Paladin, I've been here on the Castle assisting the Palace Advisor with Castle upkeep."

"Okay then, Shi- Shiniquoa- Can I call you Quiz?" The robot nodded imperiously. "Okay. Thanks, Quiz. Uh, so, why don't you get the other… Altean Betablops to help?"

"Because I require no assistance, Red Paladin. Have you not been listening? I am Shinaquiz Altea Betabot Prime. I am top of the line."

"But if that's true, why is Coran still helping?" Lance countered, trying to compensate for the height difference between him and the large magenta frame with confidence.

"Because he's a control freak." Lance barely contained a snort of laughter at their bluntness.

"Okay, fair."

"Now, what exactly do you need of me, Red Paladin? I haven't spoken to any of the new Paladins yet."

"To be totally honest, none of us knew you were even here."

"What, you just assumed that Coran kept this entire ship running on his own?"

"Yes? I mean, no one really knows what he does in his free time, so-"

"You're adorable, Red Paladin, truly. Coran wouldn't last a day without me. None of you would."

"Well, I'm glad that you brought that up-"

"Why are you the one greeting me today and not Coran?"

"Uh, funny story-"

"Your heart rate is elevated, eyes dilated, hands trembling slightly- You have quite a bit of caffeine in your system, don't you, Paladin? You're obviously exhausted, yet I have yet to see anyone else check up on you or even hear any sort of movement about the Castle. You are doing this entirely on your own, and you are severely not prepared. What exactly are you up to?"

"They've not been sleeping," Lance suddenly blurted out before Quiz could continue berating him.

"Furthermo-" Quiz paused. "Pardon?"

"Coran. He's not been sleeping. Or Allura, or Keith, or Hunk, or Pidge."

Quiz did the math, Lance able to see when the question hit.

"What about the Black Paladin? I've heard no news from him."

"Shiro? I- Coran never told you?"

"All I know of you Paladins is that Zarkon has been defeated. Coran never explained why he was so upset about it."

"Sounds like Coran," Lance muttered. "Shiro's… on hiatus?"

What a dumb way of phrasing.

Somewhere in the castle, Red was laughing at him. She'd been doing that more and more, reacting to Lance's thoughts. Every now and then she'd respond like she had earlier when Lance found Keith. But not often.

Hey, Gorgeous. What gives? Red didn't answer. It was fine- Lance wasn't bitter.

Nope. Not bitter.

He didn't miss Blue's conversation.

Nooooope.

"That is why the Castle has been quiet, isn't it?" Quiz asked quietly. Lance nodded mutely, looking away.

"I… yeah. I guess it is."

"Why are you here, Red Paladin?" Quiz looked at Lance with a surprisingly sentient tilt to their metal head.

"Oh! Oh, that. Um…" Lance rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "Ikindaburnedaholeinthestairsandhavenoideahowtofixit-"

"Paladin, I'm a betabot, not a translator."

"Didn't you say that you speak like a quadr-"

"As you were saying."

Lance laughed quietly. "Uh… yeah. I kind of burned a hole in the stairs with a random chemical?"

"What chemical." Quiz didn't pose it as a question. Lance looked at his feet.

"...how willing are you to entertain a hypothetical question?"

"You have no idea which one it was, do you?"

"Hypothetically? Yes."

"Well, I can't properly aid you if I don't know what chemical caused the disas- when did the mice get here?" Quiz interrupted themself, turning both their and Lance's attention to the corridor Lance had come from, dragging a half destroyed container in their paws.

"I'll do you one better," Lance said, not once turning his attention away from the mice, "when did the mice leave?"

Chulatt shrugged helpfully, offering their prize to Lance and Quiz.

"Did you grab the chemical bottle?" Lance asked incredulously. Chuchule nodded vigorously.

"Snitch," Quiz deadpanned. Lance turned to the cleaning bot with his hands on his hips.

"I thought you wanted to know what chemical I spill- er, was spilled- on the steps!"

"It's the principle of the matter, Red Paladin." Platt stuck out a small pink tongue at Quiz. "Alright, that's enough, you nosy nofreblets," they asserted. "I'll take care of your Red Paladin. Shoo!"

"You don't want their help?"

"How exactly did you find this chemical?" Quiz gestured pointedly to the still slightly sizzling bottle on the ground.

"Touchè."

"Good quiznak, Paladin!" Quiz griped, looking at the ever-deepening hole in the stairs. Lance was beginning to worry that it was going to reach all the way to open space at this point.

Coran was going to kill him.

"Surprise?"

"Who in Zorklebob agreed to let you run the Castle for a quintant?! I can't believe Coran would do so, sensible Altean that he is! Honestly, Red Paladin, are you trying to make a mess of yourself?!"

"It's not like I planned to fall down the steps!" Lance's patience was wearing thin. He knew that Quiz meant no harm. He knew that.

But dammit if he wasn't tired of hearing things like it.

"You astound me, Red Paladin, truly. What exactly was your plan?"

"I didn't have a plan."

"Clearly," they scoffed. "A vacuuming disk would be able to tell that. However, you aren't helping your case here. How in all the mighty Altea were you going to run the Castle with no plan, and no common sense to aid you?!"

"Hey no-"

"'Oh, don't worry!'" Quiz chirped, Lance realizing that the robot likely meant it as an imitation of him. "'I'm a Paladin of Voltron! I don't need to think about what I'm doing so long as I do my best and use the power of friendship! I don't need to ask for help, or learn about my surroundings!'-"

"That's not what's going on her-"

"And then you grab random containers and just… what? Hope the mice know more than you? Why are you not waiting for one of the more qualified members of this team to do it? Clearly you're not in your element, so-"

"I'm not down here because I want to be," Lance defended, crossing his arms as a sort of physical comfort for himself.

Is this why Keith did it?

Huh.

"Then why bother?"

"Because I can't do anything else!" Lance snapped, uncaring of how Quiz froze in surprise.

"Paladin-"

"No, just- just leave it. I'm sorry I snapped." Lance stuffed his hands in his pocket, trying to decide if he could sneak over to the kitchen and make more coffee.

"Paladin," Quiz said sternly, "you are in over your head. I don't know what exactly is going on with your team, but you causing a disaster while they sort themselves out is not the way to fix this."

"I… I'm flying blind here," Lance admitted quietly.

"Leave this"-Quiz gestured to the hole-"to me. I will do my typical rounds. Coran would have had me doing this regardless or your… mess-"

"Excuse you I am doing fine-"

"In the meantime, you can take care of any menial tasks Coran normally does if you must. Feel free to come to me with questions. No doubt you will have many."

"I guarantee you aren't this rude to Coran." Pidge was never going to be allowed near them. They were too similar. Lance glared goodnaturedly up at Quiz.

"Coran doesn't burn gaping holes into my steps," they snarked.

"You know, I'm feeling a little attacked right now."

"Leave me be, Paladin. No doubt you have plenty of other things to do."

"I leave because I wish to. Not because you said so. I'm a strong, independent Paladin who don't need no betablop." Lance gave a final barking laugh before taking off back up the stairs, Quiz's indignant response following him.

"It is betabot and you know it!"

Shiro

Slightly earlier

So Plan Seagull was a bust.

Pidge hadn't moved when Shiro placed a gentle hand in her hair, nor Hunk when he poked the Yellow Paladin's nose. Shiro checked the time- 9:15.

Allura should be up and about soon. Coran too.

As though on cue, Allura floated into the room, Hunk calling a cheery "Good morning!" that was happily returned. Pidge garbled a " 'lo Allura" that had both Shiro and Allura snorting fondly. The Altean gracefully dropped down onto the couch adjacent Hunk and Pidge.

"Did you two do this?" she asked, noting the pillows and blankets decorating the room.

"Nope." Hunk adjusted Pidge so she was leaning against a pillow. The sleepy teen grumbled angrily as she was disturbed. Hunk grabbed another blanket and draped it over her head, much like a parrot and a sheet over it's cage. Shiro smirked as Pidge quieted immediately. Hunk huffed a laugh before leaning forward and grabbing the small note Lance had left to show it to Allura. "This is all Lance."

"I didn't know Lance could bake," Allura commented.

"I'll be honest; neither did I." Allura's head snapped up at Hunk's confession. The larger teen looked away almost guiltily.

"Hunk…" Allura started uncertainly, carefully grabbing a pink thermos and gently spreading jam on a bright blue biscuit, "it's not your job to know everything about everyone. You know as well as I do that Lance didn't keep this to himself to hurt anyone; he likely knew how much you enjoyed the kitchen and didn't want to intrude on your passion."

Hunk smiled gratefully at the princess. "Sounds like him," he chuckled quietly. "How'd you sleep?"

"I slept quite well!" Allura exclaimed, practically sparkling. Shiro walked over towards Hunk, hopping up on the arm of the couch he and Pidge were on. Allura looked better- her eyes were brighter, hair pulled back in a high ponytail that bounced happily when she spoke. She still looked drawn, still looked weary with war, but it was almost entirely overtaken by the hope settled in her shoulders and the pride in her grin. "Lance was right: we needed this."

"Speaking of," a voice called from the doorway, "has anyone heard from number three?"

"Good morning, Coran!" Hunk called cheerily. Allura echoed it just as excitedly. The older Altean smiled as he walked into the room to settle next to Allura. He chose a fluffy blanket and draped it carefully over the two of them. Allura sighed happily, handing Coran his orange thermos before snuggling back contentedly.

Shiro looked around the group with no small amount of pride. There was anger there too, and bitterness. And guilt.

And loneliness.

So, so much loneliness.

He missed his team. Missed their smiles. Their touch. Missed their questions and jokes and comments and complaints.

He wanted to go back. Wanted to tell them how sorry he was for leaving. It didn't matter that this wasn't really his fault- Shiro was still the reason this had happened. He was the reason Voltron had nearly lost itself.

He needed to go back.

Please.

"Coran, where have you been recently? We rarely see you anymore," Hunk commented.

"Do we really have to have a conversation right now?" Pidge complained, still beneath the blanket. "You guys are noisy."

"Don't be a grump, Pidge," Allura laughed.

"Fiiiiine. Coran: where the fuck have you been?"

Shiro groaned, dropping his head in his hands.

"And what happened to your wrist?" Hunk asked suddenly. The lump next him twitched.

"What's wrong with his wrist?" Pidge echoed. "I can't see."

"Because you're under a blanket," Hunk reminded her patiently.

"I refuse to emerge. Describe it."

"It's wrapped in gauze."

"What the fuck happened, Coran?!" the lump exclaimed. Pidge's head poked up suddenly as she ripped the blanket off. Her hair stuck out in all directions in a very endearing way that all the younger Paladins had learned to pull off far too easily in Shiro's opinion. She glared at Hunk's bemused smirk. "I only emerged for a biscuit." In illustration, the youngest Paladin pointedly snatched a blue biscuit and munched on it aggressively.

"I don't know, Pidge, you were pretty adamant before."

"Maybe I don't want to-"

"As Hunk was saying," Allura intervened evenly, "Coran, what happened to your wrist?"

"Oh! Well, I tripped," the advisor admitted sheepishly.

"That's a lie and you know it!" Shiro called from his perch, wondering if it was improper for the (former?) leader of Voltron to be swinging his legs back and forth.

"Bullshit," Pidge deadpanned. Shiro whipped towards her in surprise. Had she heard him?

"Pidge!" Allura chastised.

"Woah there, Pidge," Hunk soothed. "You can't just call Coran a liar-"

Shiro looked on with interest, trying to figure out what had clued the genius in.

Maybe he should try Plan Seagull again.

"Look at his wrist, Hunk," Pidge explained. "There's no way he tripped and injured it that badly. He's Altean- we have yet to see him or Allura injure themselves, but they've both had plenty of spills."

"But that doesn't-" Allura began, still trying to defend Coran. Shiro wandered over behind the Alteans, placing his hands on his hips and regarding the back of Allura's head carefully.

"No no, she's got a point," Hunk interrupted.

Coran sighed fondly. "Very astute, Number Five," he conceded kindly. Shiro placed his hand barely in the top of Allura's scalp. It felt disrespectful to just shove it down into her head.

"Seagull," he said confidently. "Say seagull."

"Coran!" Allura chastised. Pidge smirked smugly.

"Sea. Gull."

"What actually happened?" the Green Paladin asked.

"I was working in one of the old generator rooms."

"Did you fall off a ladder?" Allura speculated. "Those rooms were created to be accessed by ladder only because of how delicate the wiring in them." She looked at Pidge and Hunk as she explained. The two geniuses nodded along eagerly. "But you're supposed to have a spotter with you in those rooms, Coran-"

"I didn't have a ladder," Coran admitted sheepishly. Allura turned towards him so fast that she dislodged their blanket and knocked biscuit crumbs to the ground.

"Alright. Coran, your turn." Shiro did the same thing to the Altean advisor. "Seagull."

"What." Allura didn't phrase it as a question. Pidge and Hunk looked on in interest and concern respectively. Pidge shoved another biscuit in her mouth, eyes never leaving the two Alteans. Hunk took a swig from his thermos.

Shiro looked at the ceiling, trying to remember how that one song went. "~Rollin'. Rockin' and rollin'. Down to the beach I'm- nevermind. This is way more interesting." Shiro vaulted back over the couch, taking back his place next to Hunk on the arm of the couch.

"It seemed… excessive to use a ladder, so I simply used the ledge and-" Coran cut himself off, Shiro knowing that the Altean had just realized the hole he made for himself.

"I'd grab you a shovel to dig yourself out," the former Black Paladin commented, "but even if I could, I wouldn't. About time someone called you out on this."

"Well?" Allura prompted dangerously. Shiro gulped sympathetically. Pidge reached for another biscuit, but Hunk blocked her hand with a whispered 'Save some for Keith'. Pidge scowled, but retracted her hand to snuggle back into her blanket burrito.

"I-"

"You fell, didn't you?" Hunk asked worriedly. "Ohmigosh are you alright? It has to have been from pretty high up for you to get hur-"

Pidge smacked Hunk's shoulder with a still-cocooned hand. "Way to kill the drama."

"It was getting too tense in here."

Allura paid them no mind, still fully focused on Coran. "You know you can't do that, Coran! What would have happened if something worse had happened? What if you'd have been knocked unconscious? What if you'd di-"

Coran wrapped Allura in a hug, gently saying "You're right. That wasn't smart of me, was it?"

Allura shook her head in mute confirmation.

"It won't happen again, okay?"

A nod.

"If it helps," Pidge said quietly, "you literally have a castle of people to help you. It's never an issue to grab one of us so that that," she nodded towards Coran's wrist, "doesn't happen again."

Shiro sat quietly, absorbing his family with a small smile. He thought about telling the Lions, but no doubt Black would use it to fuel her argument.

For now, Shiro was content to observe the moment alone, committing the scene to memory.

The clock in the lounge read 10:30 when Keith shuffled in, blinking incredulously at the scene before him.

"Good morning, Keith!" Hunk called.

"Uh, hi," the raven-haired teen answered. The others called their greetings similarly. Keith plopped down on the third couch, selecting a blanket to wrap himself in before grabbing two biscuits and his thermos. "Did Lance do this?"

Pidge nodded sagely.

"I didn't know he could cook," Keith mused.

"None of us did, either," Allura responded around a delicate sip of cocoa. Shiro abandoned his post by Hunk's shoulder in favor of joining Keith on the third couch. Keith carefully took a bite of his biscuit, chewing quietly.

"Keith," Pidge said suddenly. "What the fuck are you doing?"

The raven-hair teen looked up at her in surprise. "...eating Lance's biscuits?"

"Like hell you are; wha- where's your jam?!" she griped.

"My jam?"

"Oh!" Shiro looked over at Keith, stuffing a fist in his mouth. "You don't like jam! I'd forgotten! Don't tell Pidge that!"

"I- I don't like jam?"

"You had one job."

"Are you asking her or telling her?" Hunk quipped while Pidge stared on in growing consternation.

"What?!" she erupted, scaring Hunk enough that he choked on his sip of cocoa. "How in the fuck have you made it this far in life not liking jam?!"

Keith looked over at Allura and Coran for assistance. They shrugged helpfully. Shiro snorted into his fist.

"I- uh, they're biscuits, Pidge, what's the difference-"

"Unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable. Lance spends the time to make us these lovely baked goods, and you eat them plain like the plain-ass bitch you are."

Hunk stared at Pidge, trying to process everything that had just happened. Keith's mouth opened and closed mutely, trying to come up with a response. Allura and Coran looked like they wanted to be taking notes on this fascinating earthian interaction.

Finally: "Hunk?"

"Yeah, Keith?"

"Hand me the damn jam, please."

11:00

Shortly after everyone had their fill of biscuits (and jam- Keith begrudgingly admitted that it was a good combo) and cocoa, a friendly game of "Never-Have-I-Ever" sprang up. It had actually been going pretty well. Keith and Pidge were tied with one finger each, everyone else having been eliminated. Then Pidge looked Keith dead in the eyes, a challenge dancing beneath her skewed glasses.

"Never have I ever been kicked out of the Garrison."

Keith turned bright red. "Pidge!"

"For. Violence."

Shiro whipped towards the furious teen so fast he heard his neck pop. "You what?!"

The game was quickly disbanded after that. Pidge won.

"Should one of us go grab Lance?" Hunk questioned. "I feel like he'd want to be here for this.

"If he's smart," Pidge grumbled, still a little grumpy at the game being shut down by a laughing Allura and Coran, "he's in his room sleeping."

Shiro's eyes widened.

"He shouldn't be wasting a day like this! It was even his idea!" Allura exclaimed. "Why don't I get him- no use napping when we're all relaxing together."

Oh shit- Lance.

"Okay, but he got all this together," Hunk countered gently. "He's been begging for a rest day for ages."

Coran and Keith looked away, deep in thought. Coran rubbed his wrapped wrist.

"Number Three told me that he would watch over the Castle today while we rejuvenate."

"He's running the Castle? On his own?" Pidge cocked her head, forehead creased with passive concern. "Isn't that, you know, a lot?"

"He shouldn't have to do anything excessive- I'll take care of my chores next quintant. All Number Three has to do is make sure the Castle systems start up each day, which he did quite well, might I add. Hopefully he's taking some time for himself. We'll likely see him wandering around soon enough."

That seemed to ease the others' minds, but Shiro crossed his arms thoughtfully.

Lance had just made the Paladins breakfast. No way was he just about to stop there. Had they not just discussed that Coran needed to not take on large tasks on his own? Surely one of them would realize, right?

Shiiiiit.

Yeah. Time to see what exactly the newest Red Paladin was up to.

"Wanna play Duck Duck Goose?"

"Fuck yes!"

11:00am

Lance

Coffee.

Is.

Nastier.

Than.

Keith's.

Taste.

In.

Hairstyles.

Lance glared at the second empty mug he'd held that day. It was no less disgusting than the first batch.

But Wired Lance was back, so he really couldn't be too upset, could he?

Time to get back to work.

The fun part was that this time both of Lance's legs were spasming randomly. Also his little finger on his right hand kept locking up (that's not normal?) and he kept, like, half winking and his jaw kept clicking together like a bad drum solo so that was fun.

So long as nothing from here on out required any statue impersonations, then Lance would be fine.

Coolio.

Okay so he hadn't been planning on having more caffeine- like, if it might have killed him the first cup then he was definitely dying tonight- but then he got super tired out of nowhere and his agenda wouldn't allow for any power naps because he'd told Coran that he could do this and dammit he wasn't going to let his Space Uncle down. Nope nope noppity nope.

He'd nap when the caffeine finally claimed his twitchy soul.

You know, Lance never thought that he'd be the one at risk from caffeine overdosage.

Especially from caffeine that he doesn't own.

Go figure.

"Alright, stowaways," Lance prompted the mice, who had rejoined him in the kitchen, "where should we go next?" He needed to take care of bedding. He kept track of Coran's chore calendar (and Quiz's, Lance reminded Wired Lance), and today was when he took care of sheets, blankets, and non-delicate apparel. Delicate apparel was literally only Shiro's vest and Keith's gloves, but they were very important staples of the team so, being the amazing Space Uncle that he is, Coran was always diligent about caring for them properly and having them back to the two Paladins before any significant wardrobe malfunctions could occur. He'd also recently started throwing Keith's jacket and Pidge's favorite socks in after a fascinating discovery Lance liked to refer to as the Red Death because he's creative and Pidge had had to wear a pink and green sweatshirt for a week and it was hilarious and ANYWAYS-

Red dye. Invincible no matter the galaxy, no matter the society.

Truly an iconic noun.

With this in mind, Lance veered to his left, knowing that the laundry room was to the right of the medbay. Lance stepped in, grabbed a handy-dandy laundry basket (bright blue, because obviously he's the Red Paladin… but the blue on his sweatshirt tie-dye spiral matched the basket perfectly so... fight him he likes coordinating colors).

Lance then trooped over to the Paladin corridors, grabbing all of the strewn about socks in Pidge's room (she liked her neon fuzzy socks the best- Lance made sure to grab all of them so she'd have them all clean) and bundling all of Hunk's favorite shirts in the basket (so his best bud would have his favorite stuff to get him through once their rest day ended) along with Keith's black t-shirt (because Dios knows that Keith needs to be better about buying more clothes for himself, but until then Lance would make sure he was well prepared), and Coran's many uniforms (Lance would come back and make sure the press them just the way the Altean liked) as well as Allura's favorite dresses, cast aside in favor of her more formal attire (but even princesses deserved comfy clothes, so Lance made a mental note to go digging in that storage room to find Allura some proper comfy day attire.) He also grabbed his own jeans and other shirts before trundling the basket back down the hall to the laundry room.

The laundry room was massive. Like, ridiculously so. Lance knew that the Castle was created for many, many people- it was a war ship. Duh.

But there was no reason to have 35 pairs of washing machines and dryers.

Yes, Wired Lance counted. He wanted to know before starting a load of clothes. Sue him.

No matter how many people that need to be clothed and stylish, 35 pairs of washing machines and dryers was an obnoxious waste of space at best. It's called a schedule. Learn to use one, Debra, and maybe you wouldn't need a whole room dedicated to swirling clothes around.

Just saying.

WIth that thought in mind, Lance chose washer/dryer pair number 23 and gently placed all his treasures inside, double-checking and then triple checking that he had everything right before starting the load.

One nice thing about Altean laundromats: they worked stupid fast. Whereas on earth he'd need to keep track of the clothes for like three hours (he didn't know leave him be), Lance only needed to keep with the washing machine for twenty minutes, and the dryer for ten.

Which only gives credit to Lance's issue with a room wall to wall with clothes cleaning boxes.

Have some common sense.

Or, at the very least, some dignity.

Lance looked down at the mice once more. "Would you four mind keeping an eye on these for me while I go thrifting?"

Chuchle looked at him in confusion.

Lance sighed. "I'll explain when you're older."

With the clothes now secure, Lance took off for the storage closet the mice had shown him, hoping that it would lead to some comfy clothes for Allura. If he found some more in his size, he'd probably steal some too because every day could not be jean day, okay? No matter how much Lance loves his jeans, sometimes he would really rather chew off his pinky toe than have to put those jeans on-

Focus.

Lance opened the door with his key, confident in his abilities now after the lesson the mice gave him earlier. The closet was still full of blankets and pillows, and Lance searched around for a good ten minutes, but found nothing that he or Allura could use.

He did, however, find the extra bedding that he'd need later, so that was cool.

Lance rocked back on his heels, trying to figure out where he'd be if he were comfy princess clothes.

That sounded weird.

Whatever. Wasn't like there was someone to judge his thoughts.

"Alriiiight," he said quietly to the darkness. "Maybe the room you were in," Lance addressed the master key. "There were some boxes way in the back."

Mind made up, Lance made his way down towards the closet he'd been at earlier in the morning. Hopefully the others were staying relaxed and he wouldn't get in anyone's way. Lance hopped down the steps, making a note to check in with Quiz once he'd finished the laundry.

After that, he'd get some lunch.

Maybe more coffee.

Shiro

When Lance's usual haunts came up empty, Shiro went to the Laundry Room. Shiro had been there once or twice in the past, not surprised to see evidence of Lance in there because, as he knew, it was laundry day.

He and Lance really needed to have a talk about personal limits and self-care.

Shiro scrubbed a hand down his face, taking in the sight of the four mice diligently watching the washing machine spin. He crouched down by them. "Lance hired some help did he?" he chuckled, brushing a hand over Chulatt's fuzzy head. "I don't suppose Plan Seagull would work on you, would it?"

Very carefully, Shiro barely poked Platt's green stomach, firmly saying "Seagull."

Plate rubbed their nose with no indication of Shiro making an impression on them.

Of course not- the mice can't communicate to you in any means you'd understand.

Okay, uh, new tactic.

Shiro, finger never leaving its place at Platt's belly, quietly said "Jump."

Nothing happened other than Chuchule's left ear flicking. With a fond sigh, Shiro rose once again to his feet. "It was a long shot, but worth a try. Have fun, guys." With that, Shiro left the Laundry Room at a jog, hoping to catch up with Lance soon.

On the bright side, Shiro found Lance soon after leaving the mice.

The teen had changed clothes, presumably having had a shower, if his vaguely damp hair was anything to go by. He'd chosen a rainbow tie-dyed hoodie and blue jeans with very comfy looking socks. Shiro flexed his feet jealously. He would kill to be that cozy right now.

On the down side, Shiro was very concerned for Lance's health.

He was… vibrating? In a very concerning manner? Shiro paced around Lance as the current Red Paladin sifted through boxes of Altean Apparel. A small pile was forming behind him as the teen muttered under his breath. Lance's jaw kept spasming, and his legs were shaking.

Not good.

What happened?

My Paladin may have found more caffeine, Red reported, sounding more concerned that Shiro had heard her as of then.

Shiro stopped. What?

He didn't.

Red Palain did! Blue interrupted. Should Lions be worried?

Shiro took in Lance critically, noting ever trembling muscle, every random twitch, and crossed his arms.

No, he answered dryly. I'm sure there's nothing to worry about.

Thank you, Paladin, Black rumbled.

That- that's no- wait what-

What is it, Paladin? Yellow questioned worriedly.

Actually, you know what? Yeah. he's fine.

That seemed to appease most of the Lions. Blue didn't seem quite as pleased as the others, but Shiro could feel her lingering thoughts of playing along for now. Red also seemed mildly suspicious, but oddly detached.

Weird.

Lance suddenly shot to his feet from where he'd been rummaging.

"I got it!" he exclaimed happily, holding a pair of light, faded pink sweatpants and tossing them on the pile of what Shiro could now see were feminine casual clothes. Beneath them were two pairs in a more masculine color scheme. Shiro wasn't typically one to assume via color, but he was finding that the Alteans had a thing about color coordination.

"Uh, Lance?" Shiro tried, looking at the pile with concern. "What exactly are you doing?"

"Let's see," the teen mused, holding a sweatshirt up to his shoulders, "I am right around the size of- yeah okay! That'll work great! Sweet!" With that, Lance gathered his treasures- sweatpants and baggy shirts?- into his arms and practically skipped his way out of the storage room. Shiro stared after him, trying to figure out what was going on.

I don't suppose anyone over there has any ideas?

Not a clue, Black responded.

After a brief pit-stop to move the sopping clothes over to a dryer, Shiro found himself and Lance in Lance's bedroom, the latter stripping the former's bed.

Right. Laundry Day.

Lance rubbed his forehead, probably feeling a killer headache coming on. Shiro pursed his lips sympathetically as he plopped down on the now stripped bed (damn thing didn't move dammit) and watched Lance bumble about, straightening little things here and there. Then, the Paladin straightened up, tossed the bedding in an empty blue basket, and trundled out. Shiro got up and followed, trying to figure out what he was supposed to do here. Normally, he'd order Lance to get the hell to bed before he overdosed on caffeine, but Lance couldn't exactly see him, did he?

Maybe he should try Plan Seagull on Lance?

Maybe it was a matter of finding the right way to communicate?

If he figured it out with Lance, maybe then it would work with the others and he could finally get through to them!

Won't work.

"Black, don't take this away from me," Shiro grumbled.

For the rest of the morning, Shiro watched as Lance tidied up everyone's room- sort of like he imagined hotel maintenance- and stripped bedding. By the end of it, Lance ended up just pushing the massive basket of sheets down the hallway. It was too full to even begin lifting, and even if Lance did, Shiro noted, he wouldn't be able to see where he was going.

Shiro did try helping. Really, he did.

Predictably, his hand phased right through the stupid thing.

Go figure.

Instead, the former Black Paladin wandered behind Lance, calling out helpful things like "you're veering" and "Lance, watch that corner you're going to overturn- what did I just say-" and "that looks like it hurt; how's your toe?"

It made him feel better.

Yellow thought that it was endearing. Blue and Green wouldn't stop laughing. Red was fondly bemused at her Paladin. Black was the only silent presence in Shiro's mind.

"Alright!" Lance huffed, pulling the basket into the Laundry room. "We made it! Hi, mice." The mice squeaked back a happy hello, and the teenager grinned brighter than the sun. "Is everything under control here still?"

They nodded in agreement. Shiro shifted his weight so he could lean against an unoccupied washing machine casually to survey the scene before him.

And, like the door, he fell through the stupid thing.

In a blink Shiro was on his ass, staring at the interior of an empty cavern, watching through the glass as Lance bumbled here and there, making sure that everything was in order. He sat, bewildered at his predicament.

The fun was only amplified as Lance tossed the massive pile of sheets into where Shiro's head was.

He ducked out of instinct, doing a mature and purely tactical crawl to the outside world. Shiro rose to his feet as soon as he was out of the spinning tin cans, brushing off unseen dust to regain his composure.

So no leaning then?

Cool.

Shiro cleared his throat as Lance left the room with a fond remark to the mice, following quietly to wherever Lance needed to go next.

As they walked, Shiro looked at his flesh hand. Then the back of Lance's left shoulder blade. Back to his hand. Back to Lance's shoulder. Shiro's hand. Lance's shoulder.

Go for it already.

Keeping step, Shiro gently poked his finger into Lance's shoulder blade.

"Seagull," he said firmly. "Seagulls, Lance. Seagulls. Plan Seagull. Plan of Seagull- tell me you're getting this. Please tell me you're getting this. Seagull. Seagull."

Shiro's shoulders fell at the lack of any sort of reaction from Lance.

Maybe he was wrong?

Maybe there was no connection?

Shiro paused his step, ignoring Lance's footsteps fading away as he stared once more at his hands.

If he couldn't reach Lance, then what was he supposed to do?! How was he going to reach his team?!

Then: "~Rollin'. Rockin' and Rollin'," a light, mildly bemused voice floated down the corridor. Shiro's head snapped up, as Lance's feet fell and rose to the beat. "~Down to the beach I'm strollin'. And the seagulls peck at my head- not fun. I said 'Seagulls! *hm!*'- "

"Stop it now!" Shiro finished with him, more than a little dazed. He raced forward as Lance kept humming the tune, the Red Paladin looking very confused with himself. "Holy shit," Shiro whispered as he fell in step with Lance.

"Weird. I haven't heard that song in ages."

Well done, Paladin! Blue praised. Shiro sent a warm thanks in return.

What will Paladin do now? Green questioned.

"I don't know."

The Castle had too many hidden closets. One of these days Shiro would have to ask Coran to explain where each one was and why. Shiro sat idly while Lance stepped into yet another closet full of fabric items, this one not far from the one he'd gotten blankets and pillows from that very morning. It also had sheets in it, not enough to satisfy Lance's needs though, so the Red Paladin was currently having the mice point out nearby closets to add to his collection. By the end, Lance had a nice collection stacked in a neatly organized tower in the blue basket he still had with him.

Once again, Lance decided to just push the basket rather than carrying it to the respective rooms. Good plan. Even better, Lance left the basket in the middle of the corridor and took trips to each room with the sheets needed. Shiro opted to sit next to the basket, poking it tentatively.

Solid.

Shiro leaned against the basket, arms crossed and forehead furrowed.

This whole "in spirit" business was really starting to get on Shiro's nerves with its inconsistencies. He could sort of communicate with Lance, but not with any of the others. He could lean against this basket, but not the washers and dryers. He could sit on beds, but not make a mark on them. He could touch some things, but not move them. He could smell food, but couldn't recall having been hungry since this whole mess started.

In summary, it was bullshit.

Shiro, huffing grumpily, reached behind him to poke the sheets. Solid. Couldn't move them. They wouldn't do anything if they were draped over him. Probably wouldn't eve-!

Now wait a damn minute.

The sheets. What if they-

No. There's no way.

It was too easy.

Shiro blinked, realizing what had to happen.

He had to test it.

As if on cue, Lance quietly came out of Keith's room, picked up the next stack of sheets, and made his way towards Shiro's room.

Perfect.

Shiro leapt to his feet, bounding after the teen. He watched with interest as Lance expertly got the fitted sheet on the mattress, and waited for his chance.

There. Right there. Right as Lance stepped away to get the sheet in order, Shiro hopped on the bed, crossing his legs and settling in the middle.

He felt silly, doing this, staring expectantly like a child hindering their mother's chores, but it needed to be tested. What if this was how he got through to Lance?

Shiro scoffed at the mental image of him finally making contact with his team in the form of a… a sheet ghost.

Here it comes. Lance seemed to move in slow motion as he elegantly flicked the pale gray sheet to drape it onto the bed. Shiro closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable shocked cry-

The sheet fell through him.

Shiro's eyes snapped open, looking at the sheet that was now beneath him.

What the-?!

"DAMMIT!"

If nothing else, this whole experience was giving Shiro some excellent topics for future lectures.

Lance didn't break until the clothes he'd put in the dryer were finished and folded neatly on the respective team members' beds. He also went back to the laundry room and folded all the identical sets of sheets before placing them in the closets he'd been at earlier. To Shiro's immense relief, Lance finally heaved a sigh and dragged himself towards the kitchen.

And then got his mug.

And once again accessed the coffee maker.

Did Shiro say immense relief? He meant all-consuming horror and concern.

The effect was terrifyingly instantaneous. Lance chugged the caffeine torture device and immediatley his eyes snapped open and hands began shaking ever so slightly. He blinked a few times to reorient himself before gagging quietly.

"I'm definitely dying tonight."

Shiro dropped his head into his hands.

Red? You really not going to comment on your Paladin literally getting ready to overdose on caffeine?

My Paladin knows what is doing.

Shiro stared at the nearest wall in a deadpan. You're kidding, right?

No answer.

Fantastic.

Good to know the Lions always had their Paladins' backs, then.

As Shiro was mulling over that little thought, Lance rummaged around in a nearby cabinet and pulled out an Altean energy bar (Shiro grimaced at the thought of those nasty concoctions) before once again leaving the kitchen.

"Wow," Shiro called after Lance, even after the doors to the kitchen had closed. "A whole five minute break! Very selfish of you, Lance! You- you should be ashamed of yourself!"

Shiro huffed a sigh as he left the kitchen.

"Lance, has anyone ever told you you're exhausting?"

Since when did the castle have sentient cleaning staff?!

What the quiznak, Coran?!

"Quiz", as Lance had jovially called out, socked feet quickening their steps to speak to the massive android, regarded the Red Paladin with a terrifying degree of criticality in their glowing blue eyes.

"Terrifying" because they didn't even have eyebrows and Shiro was still intimidated for Lance.

Shiro stood next to them, wondering if he should be offended at the height difference between himself and the large magenta robot.

"Paladin," Quiz asked, "why in Alfor's name are your caffeine levels higher than when last we communicated?"

Lance's eyes widened dramatically. Shiro choked back a laugh for his sake.

Oh yeah. He definitely liked this one. Someone needed to at least attempt to hold Lance accountable for his Lance-i-ness.

"Well, I uhh-"

"You had more coffee. Say no more. What you're going to do is retire to your room at once. From there I shall stop by with that absentee advisor and make him do his job a-"

"What? No!" Lance interrupted them. "I'm not going to 'retire' and we're definitely not getting Coran!"

"Paladin," Quiz began patiently, "you are severely lacking any degree of self awareness or understanding of how to really take care of yourself. Coran has had a restful morning, I assure you, and now it's your turn."

"No." Shiro looked at Lance with a glare. The teen stood tall, defiantly looking at Quiz. "I told them 'no working'. They're not going to work today."

"Then at least let me do my job-"

"You told me that you would help me in fulfilling Coran's duties today, did you not?" Lance countered, somewhat cheekily.

"You what?" Shiro looked up at Quiz accusingly.

"Yes, though if memory serves, that was whilst cleaning the hole you left in the eastern stairwell, was it not? I had bigger things to focus on."

Shiro whipped around to look at Lance. "You what?"

Lance deflated slightly, but didn't lose the gleam in his eyes. "And I apologized for that several times. Now, are you really going to tell me that you betablops aren't capable of multi-tasking?"

"Oh for the love of- fine, Paladin, you win. What all have you accomplished so far?"

Shiro crossed his arms as Lance excitedly listened to his list of things to do. "Traitor."

For the next couple varga, that's all Shiro did. He followed Lance around as the stubborn teenager flitted through the castle, fixing air ducts and adjusting temperature gauges with a keen eye that Coran would definitely approve of.

Shiro was torn at this point. On the one hand, he was thrilled to get a front row seat to the true Lance McClain- it was about time someone noticed how much he truly did. And Shiro was just so proud of Lance. So, so, so proud.

On the other hand, though, Shiro was quietly pulling his hair out watching his teammate slowly lose steam doing chores no one required of him all because he wanted his family to have a restful day.

He hated that he was the only witness, though.

Had no one taken the boy aside to explain that they could all have a restful day without someone having to shoulder all the work? Sometimes, self care meant prioritizing some things over domestic tasks.

We are so having the bonding day of our lives when I get back.

Lance leaned against the wall near his room, a sigh pulling from his chest.

"How the quiznak does Coran do this everyday?" Lance asked the mice in his pocket and on his left shoulder. "It's exhausting."

"He doesn't do all of this in a day," a new voice noted, somewhat moodily. Lance perked up, turning cheerily towards the voice.

"Quiz!" Lance exclaimed. "Where've you been? I haven't seen you since lunch!"

"I've been doing what I'm supposed to do in a day."

"Uh-"

"You, in your caffeinated state, have managed to do three quintants of Coran's tasks-"

"What? No, I did the list-"

"The list I gave you was busy work! Idle tasks to clue you into the ridiculousness of your actions and inspire you to actually join your team! You then went and did everyone's laundry and all the bedding! Not to mention the random tinkering you added on to my instructions!"

"...Are you mad at me?" Lance asked quietly, confused. Quiz rolled closer, stopping stiffly near the teen.

"No," they decided finally. "I am not. Though I am questioning why you went to such lengths on your 'rest day'."

"Oh. Well," Lance looked down at his feet. "They've been struggling- we all have, but Shiro's… hiatus-"

"Not you too!" Shiro grumbled, trying to ignore the catch in his breathing.

"-hit them all hard. They haven't been themselves since. Normally, he'd be the one to lead the team and… take care of them."

Quiz's eyes flickered in what Shiro assumed was a blink. "And you took up the task in his stead," they concluded.

Lance nodded with a small smile. "No one else could. I know he'll be back. I know. But they're losing hope." Lance shrugged in a 'so here I am' gesture.

"Paladin," Quiz said suddenly, "it is past time for your evening meal. You should go eat. I am going to power down for the evening if nothing else needs to be done."

"No- ah, I think everything is done."

"I concur. Everything is done."

Shiro grinned at the distinction, silently thanking them for being the logical one.

Lance huffed a laugh, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "Yeah. Yeah, it is, Quiz."

"If you require nothing else, Paladin, I will be on my way," Quiz announced gently. Lance rocked off the wall.

"Oh! Do you want me to walk you back?"

"I am quite capable of finding it myself, Paladin."

"Go find the others, Lance," Shiro urged.

Lance nodded once at the betabot with a smile and the two turned toward their respective destinations.

Lance took a few steps before turning back. "Hey! Shinaquiz Altea Betabot Prime!"

They stopped rolling. "Yes, Paladin," they asked measuredly.

"Thank you. Seriously- you're a life-saver."

Shiro echoed the sentiment quietly.

"It's never a problem, Paladin. Though," they mused, "the next time there is a hole in my stairwell I'm leaving you to fix it."

Lance

Lance smiled quietly to himself, satisfied with his day as he strolled towards the kitchen. He was starving, now that he thought about it. His head had begun to pound a varga or so ago while he'd been figuring out how to fix Keith's door- it kept making this weird screeching noise that was driving him nuts. He'd finally figured it out, but Dios; what a migraine to figure out.

He hadn't heard from the others all day, which he took as a good sign. Keith wasn't roaming the halls, which meant he was likely having to engage in personal relations (oh no!); Pidge wasn't tinkering or moping about in her lab (Lance had checked periodically throughout his day after lunch- it wasn't that he didn't trust the Pigeon, it was just that he didn't trust her idle mind, okay?); Hunk hadn't been seen anywhere, so hopefully that meant he was in the kitchen or Common Room with the others; Allura and Coran had been out of sight all day, and Lance really hoped that they and the others were, you know, interacting. The Alteans had been trying to cut themselves off. Lance knew that all the others had to do was begin to suspect that and they'd fix the issue quick.

Lance's next step stumbled, knocking the Red Paladin out of his musings. He blinked once or twice, the cacophony of his brain coming to a climax as lethargy pulled at every muscle in his body.

Dios, he's exhausted.

Caffeine crash, his mind supplied helpfully. Or maybe it wasn't his mind? All day he'd been getting… vibes? Like, someone pinning ideas on the Pinterest board of his mind? First in his room earlier that morning with Keith, then later in Shiro's room, then the hallway with that earworm of a seagull song…

It'd been a weird day.

Lance, at this point, really just wanted to see his Space Family and, like, nap. His head hurt. So did his feet.

And his hands.

Tired Lance wasn't much fun.

Lance already missed Wired Lance.

With that lovely thought, Lance rounded the corner to the Common Room, having completely forgotten about the kitchen. Whoops.

No one was in the Common Room, though there were blankets and pillows scattered about and all but one biscuit were gone. Lance smiled tiredly. They liked it. There was a little note scrawled in black pen- one of Pidge's science notation ones, Lance noted. It said:

"Hunk said I had to leave you a biscuit. Fuck you and your baking abilities"

-Pidge

Lance chuckled softly before devouring his biscuit in three slow bites, uncaring of whether or not it was a little dried out because of the lack of jelly. It was still delicious.

He debated for a solid tick going to try and find the others- maybe something was wrong? Maybe they were breaking the rules of the day? Maybe they were doing something fun?- but ended up deciding that he'd wait for them right there on the couch he'd plopped down on.

Yeah.

I'll just-

I'll wait right here.

He was out, curled up in a tight ball leaning against the back of the couch, long before the others returned.

Pidge

Twenty Doboshes Prior to Lance's Arrival

"We should have a movie night," Pidge commented absentmindedly from her seat on the counter. Hunk had decided that finger foods were the way to go, and the rest of Voltron (sans Lance- where was he?!) decided to go with. Coran and Keith were assisting Hunk as best as they could while Pidge and Allura stayed out of the way and picked out dishware to use. When they ran out of plates to discuss- "Why is the entire kitchen color coordinated? Was your dad trying to make a… a statement? Was this a cry for help?" "Actually the dishware was my idea. Is it too on the nose?" "..."- Pidge and Allura tuned back into the conversation the boys were having, piping in as they saw fit.

"A movie night?" Keith echoed, pausing from where he was deftly chopping an edible plant native to Voltron's most recent planet. Pidge didn't recall anything truly notable about it, only that Hunk had been obsessed with the plantlife.

"That's an excellent idea, Number Five!" Coran exclaimed. "A perfectly fitting end to our relaxing day, I think!"

"I'm definitely in. Pidge, how many movies do you have on your laptop?" Hunk asked.

"Enough," she answered, enjoying how Keith's eyes lit up at the possibilities. No doubt movie nights were another thing foster families had made him miss out on. Her gut clenched sadly- movie nights had always been a staple in the Holt household. She and Matt would always argue over who's night it was to pick the movie, more often than Pidge winning the choice.

Yeah. A movie night is just what they needed.

"We need Lance," she asserted.

"Family Movie Night!" Hunk crowed, sprinkling Keith's cut up plant over his latest creation. "Guys I made a soft pretzel."

Keith raised an eyebrow beneath his bangs. "Hunk," he said measuredly, "It looks like Sully from Monsters Inc."

Hunk regarded it with a critical eye before lighting up. "Ohmigosh it does!"

"Amazing," Pidge deadpanned, fighting a grin. "All the movies in the world, but by golly Keith Kogane has seen Monster's Inc."

"I watch movi-!"

"-Also Lance took my laptop hostage last night. I don't know where he put it."

"Has anyone seen Number Three at all today?" Coran asked. Everyone shook their heads in answer. "We'd best check on him, then."

"How about this," Keith volunteered, "Hunk and I will finish up here and take the food to the Common Room. Everyone else, go to your rooms and get your pajamas- that's a part of movie nights right? Cool, thanks, Hunk- and meet back at the Common Room. From there we'll find Pidge's laptop and set up what we need for the movie. Sound good?"

Pidge and the others chorused back excitedly before breaking off to get ready. The Green Paladin practically skipped to her room, giddy with the idea of watching a movie with her Space Family.

They'd had a pretty great day, actually. Maybe Lance actually knew what he was doing with this "self care" shit.

As the day wound down, Pidge was curious to find that she was… kind of drained. Still wired because movie night fuck yeah, but also weirdly exhausted. She'd had a lot of fun, of course. But Hunk had told her she wasn't allowed anywhere near her coffee, so she had nothing to keep her going right then.

God, is this what being normal is like?

Disgusting.

Pidge reached the Paladin rooms wing, popping her head into Lance's room briefly to see if he was there- he wasn't- before heading to her own room to change. She walked into her room and… froze.

"What the fuck?" she whispered to her little green and blue friends. They seemed to shrug at her in a wasn't us sort of gesture. Pidge rubbed her eyes once, twice, and checked the lenses of Matt's glasses. Maybe she was seeing things? Perhaps that was a symptom of Hunk depriving her of her life force?

Pidge's room was… okay yeah it was still a mess. But it wasn't cluttered? Every pile was neat and orderly? And definitely not the way she'd left it? On her bed- newly made with a fuzzy blanket, she noted- was a nice folded pile of her favorite, comfiest clothes and her socks waiting in a pile for her.

"Well then." Pidge took in her room once more before moving in on her socks. She'd ask the others about it later- maybe they'd had similar things happen. For that moment though, she was content to bundle up with her favorite socks and long pants (guy's pants, obviously, because pockets) and doing a quick once over of the Castle for where Lance might have hidden her laptop. Lion hanger? No. Lance's room? No. Her room? No. Hunk's? No. The Common Room? Already proved a no.

She shrugged, figuring she'd have to ask him when he emerged from wherever he was at the moment, when she passed Shiro's room. Her steps slowed, eyes looking to the floor.

No. It wasn't in there.

Moreover, she wasn't going in there.

Not until she brought him home.

But, the team needed tonight. They needed to unite. What if Shiro was the key? What if this was his way of giving them his blessing?

That was ridiculous- he wasn't dead. There would be no rational, theoretical, metaphorical, or spiritual reason for Shiro to be haunting the Castle and playing mediator even if he were. Yet, Pidge found herself strangely comforted at the idea.

Screw it.

Pidge quietly opened the door to Shiro's room, breathing deeply before she went in.

Shiro's room... reminded her of Shiro. It was organized, clean.

But only on the surface. Pidge smirked to herself as she lifted the mattress, enjoying the knowledge that his "secret" stash of interstellar post-it notes was still safely tucked away. Waiting for him to come home.

There were fresh sheets on his bed- who'd done that? Coran never went in Shiro's room, no one but Keith last she'd checked.

Pidge looked over. Her laptop. Right there, on Shiro's desk.

Lance must have done this. Pidge looked around, noting that casual touches of familiarity around the room. His pillows were fluffed, sheet tucked in the mattress with the blanket, and an additional, extra fluffy, black blanket folded neatly at the end of the bed.

Pidge bit her lip, trying to process the sheer hope radiating from the room. Lance was fully ready for Shiro to return at any moment.

She hadn't realized that she needed to see that until that very moment. There was still hope. Lance was right: she could do this, and she would.

But first she had to find that idiot and figure out what else he'd been up to; Coran had said Lance would only take care of the morning systems. If he'd been doing stuff like this, then there was no way that Lance had only done house cleaning and stopped.

Then they would fix themselves, make themselves a family again.

Then they would find Shiro and make themselves whole again.

Pidge couldn't find Lance.

She'd already been in all his usual haunts while looking for her laptop. So, she settled for the assumption that one of the others had already dragged his ass back to the Common Room and made to head there herself.

She passed Hunk and Keith, both of them making their way to their rooms with friendly grins and a little wave from Keith.

"You've got flour in your hair!" Pidge called over her shoulder as she walked by. She didn't need to look back to know Keith had stuttered to a stop, hands ruffling his bangs.

"What?! Where?"

"Pidge!" Hunk scolded with a laugh. "Don't antagonize Keith like that. He's too trusting of you."

Pidge picked up the pace, cackling as Keith's angry spluttering followed her.

Pidge stepped into the Common Room, a call of "Hey I found my laptop" fading as she took in the huddled mass of tie-dye and jeans on the couch.

Lance.

"Lance!" she called out. "Dude, we've been looking for you all day! We-" Lance interrupted her with a soft snore, his head rolling slightly in his arms from where it was tucked. His hood was up, and Pidge smiled softly at the bright sweatshirt currently swallowing the Red Paladin.

He looked like he was freezing, though, despite the warm attire. Pidge was a little chilly herself- the Common Room was at an ideal blanket temperature.

"Yeah, the others can figure this out," she yawned, grabbing one of the blankets Hunk had draped over her that morning and draped it over Lance in turn. She then grabbed her own and leaned against Lance's shoulder, making sure her blanket covered them both before burrowing beneath it. Almost immediately, Lance relaxed completely against her, leaning ever so slightly into her. She smirked. Cuddle bug.

Matt used to call her that before… before everything happened. He and Lance would get along great. Lance gave another soft snore. "Your neck is going to kill you tomorrow," she noted, looking at Lance's vertical positioning.

Hunk would probably help her move him, or he'd wake up when the others arrived.

For now though, she was just fine being with her fellow Cuddle Bug.

Coran

The moment Coran stepped into his room, he knew his assumption (dear, dear hope) about Lance (Coran didn't know why he stuck to the numbers for the others, it seemed so silly now. Yet he found that he couldn't stop; they'd become an endearment for him) had been ill-informed. He knew that he was reaching the moment he'd told the rest of the team what Lance was going to be doing today.

Coran, what had you been thinking, assuming he'd know when to take a break?

Lance was loyal to a fault, stubborn beyond all logic, and reckless of himself when it came to what he'd dubbed his "Space Family."

Hopefully, he had gotten some rest the night before and taken some time for himself.

A shallow hope, but a hope all the same.

Coran wasn't sure whether to be proud or concerned when he spied the fresh sheets on his bed and the crisp, perfectly prepared uniforms hanging in their designated place.

Oh, Lance.

Coran grabbed his night clothes, changing quickly and making his way out of his room. To his delight, he crossed paths with Allura in the corridor. She looked immensely perplexed, though exceedingly jovial at the dusty pink sweatpants and large, white shirt she was currently wearing.

"Coran! What do you think?" she cried, coming to walk at his side.

"I wasn't aware you owned them," he returned, pleased all the same with how happy she was. It wasn't often he got to see that side of the princess anymore.

"I didn't," she sobered slightly, looking up at Coran. "I thought you found them?"

"Wasn't me, Princess. I've been with you lot all day." Coran noted. "Though it looks quite comfortable."

"Oh, it is!" Allura beamed, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her pants. "I don't know where these were found, but it's marvelous wearing them."

Coran leaned in thoughtfully. "It reminds me of the clothes Number Five is always wearing."

"Yes," Allura agreed, "or Lance." Her eyebrows delicately knit together in concern. "What all has he been up to today?"

"I don't know. Probably best we find out though." With that, the pair quickened their pace toward the Common Room, stopping to do a quick check of Lance's room just in case their friend was still sleeping.

"Oh good!" Coran called out, stepping into the Common Room. "We fou-"

A slender finger shooting up from the couch cut Coran's words off. It then mimed a closed mouth.

Ah. Be quiet.

"Number Five?" Coran whispered, creeping behind the pair. Lance was curled vertically against the back of the couch, the Green Paladin cuddled against his side.

Humans were adorable, Coran had learned.

A little too adorable sometimes.

"I swear to quiznak," the bundled girl threatened. "If you two make me move, or wake him up, I'm going to…"

"To what?" Allura questioned, genuinely curious. Coran found himself invested in the unfinished warning.

"I'll tell Hunk what happened to his stash of sweet magleples." Coran could hear the smirk in the small human's voice.

He and Allura shared a look. "Fair enough," he said with finality. No way was he risking the Yellow Paladin's wrath. Allura nodded in agreement. Her gaze softened as she looked at Lance.

"Is he alright?"

"As far as I know? Yeah. Just exhausted. What all was he doing, Coran?" the blanket lump asked. Coran shrugged, forgetting she couldn't see him.

"I don't know," he supplied. "Though I'm sure we all have a few ideas." The lump nodded. Lance gave a mutter, curling up a bit.

Without a word, Coran and Allura settled on the pillowed floor in front of the couch, Coran liking the fact that from there he had a good vantage point and could watch over his family.

He knew it's what Number On- what Shiro would appreciate from him.

Coran's heart ached at the reminder of their missing member. The ship wasn't the same without him.

But maybe this was how they found him. Maybe they needed to heal, to really heal before Shiro returned to them.

Coran could only bundle himself in a blanket and hope.

Keith

Someone had cleaned his room.

Keith stared at it, unsure of how to proceed. The room looked the same; Keith wasn't one for personal touches or anything, but he also wasn't one of those people that strives for complete cleanliness and organization.

He definitely hadn't left his bed looking that orderly and smooth. He definitely didn't fold his clothes ever. And all the scattered clutter of socks and bits of rock or random things that made it home with him from missions were nowhere to be found. He'd been meaning to do a thorough cleaning soon- it was starting to bug him. Apparently, someone had beaten him to the punch.

And his door was fixed. There was no more of that annoying sound, none of the screech of gears out of place. Keith thought a moment before stepping back out the door way and listening to the silence as his door whoomfed close.

Open. Woomf.

Close. Woomf.

It was unsettling.

Keith looked around his room, stepping in tentatively, looking for the culprit. He was pretty sure he knew who it was; no one else would have the audacity to clean his room. No one ever had in the past, though they liked to tease him lightly about it.

Keith's room was… his space. It wasn't often in his life that he got a space entirely his own. The desert house had been nice, but it was… the desert. Everything out there had been his because, put simply, there had been no one else out there to claim it.

So that didn't count.

The castle was so different from every home Keith had ever been in. It was full of life and people far more social than he, but he still had a place that no one could intrude on without his permission.

Maybe that's not the thing he needed to focus on, though?

If Keith's guess was correct, then it hadn't been to hurt Keith or betray his trust. It had been to help. To enhance his sanctuary.

On some level, Keith was angry at having been disturbed. On another, he was kind of grateful.

On an entirely different level, however, Keith was concerned.

Why?

Because things were beginning to fall into place he was hoping to all hell that he was wrong about his assumption.

To do that though, Keith needed to change, check his hair for flour (not that he didn't trust Hunk, more of he didn't trust Pidge. At all,) and talk to the others.

Hunk

Owwwwwwwwwwwwww-

Hunk stumbled out of his room, biting his lip as he cradled his foot close.

Keith appeared at that moment, materializing next to the Yellow Paladin. He regarded Hunk with a curious glance.

"You alright?" he asked. Hunk pouted, looking down at his less-than-happy-toe.

"I stubbed my toe," he complained. Keith's expression opened slightly, Hunk noting that he looked like he was trying to repress a smile. "Don't laugh at me! I'm injured!"

"Hey," Keith half-chuckled, holding his hands in surrender, "I didn't say anything."

"Rude. No snacks for you."

Keith glared at Hunk until the larger boy submitted.

Please never teach Lance anything like that, Hunk silently begged. No way would he be able to ever refuse the boy. He was bad enough with the puppy eyes as it was.

Oh yeah! Lance!

"Did you see Lance at all?" Hunk asked. Keith shook his head.

"No, but I think he's been around today."

Hunk gasped theatrically. "Was your room tidied too?!" Keith grimaced.

"Yeah," he grumbled. "Yeah, it was."

"Do you think it was Lance?"

Keith crossed his arms and adjusted his stance. "I don't know who else it would be, otherwise."

Hunk nodded solemnly. "I don't think Coran was right about Lance's plans today," he admitted. Keith nodded quietly, echoing the statement.

"We'd best find the others and figure out what all happened today."

Both Keith and Hunk had forgotten about the food they were supposed to bring with them by the time they reached the Common Room.

"You guys in he-" Hunk was cut off with three quiet calls of "hush" in varying forms. He blinked, taking in the sight of Coran and Allura sitting on the floor in front of the couch. On the couch was a blanketed blob that could only be Pidge and…

"Lance!" Hunk whispered happily, quickly heading over with Keith at his side.

"Is he alright?" The raven-haired teen asked, taking in the lack of consciousness.

"According to Pidge, he's just exhausted."

"Should we wake him up?" Hunk asked worriedly. He hated to. The very idea made his stomach churn, especially when Lance seemed so at peace, but someone needed to ask the question.

"No," Allura decided finally. "If he's really so exhausted, it's probably best for him that we leave him be."

Hunk wordlessly nodded before climbing onto the couch on the other side of Lance. His blanket from before was still there, so he got under that as well before pressing his shoulder against Lance. For a moment he was terrified he'd woken the tired teen up as Lance's eyes slowly blinked open. They didn't focus at all, though, as everyone held their breath while Lance adjusted to be leaning on Hunk but conforming around Pidge in his sleep. Hunk sighed quietly, happy that his friend had finally joined them.

Keith took a look at his team's formation and silently grabbed a blanket to take up the space next to Pidge. He leaned back against the arm, draping his legs in front of her blanket bundle to rest on Lance. Hunk looked at him with a raised eyebrow. Keith didn't answer, simply mouthing a "what?"

"Does anyone know what happened with Lance today?" Pidge asked quietly as she adjusted to Lance's slight change in positions. Her head popped out from beneath the blanket, glasses flashing as she adjusted them. Everyone looked away, not able to answer. They no doubt had seen similar things that Hunk had: rooms lightly tidied, sheets fresh, laundry folded neatly on smooth blankets.

"No," Hunk answered, locking eyes with the others, "but I'm sure we can figure out some of it."

"I quite agree!" Coran joined, eyes lighting up at the idea of solving a mystery.

"Did you all see Lance last night or this morning?" Keith asked, looking around at the group. Everyone nodded, surprise lighting their gazes as they realized. "When?"

"He and I were in the kitchen until 12:20," Hunk volunteered, feeling his cheeks heat at the reminder of why they were in the kitchen that late (or early).

"Lance left my room at 1:15," Pidge said blandly. Hunk looked at her in surprise.

"Pidge's clock said 1:45 by the time I made it back to my quarters," Allura said, looking worried about the early answers.

Coran looked at his wrist. "He and I finished up in the Medical Bay at around 2:30. From there, he went to sleep."

"Shit," Keith whispered, looking up at Lance with wide eyes. The teen didn't stir.

"What?" Hunk asked, noting how uncomfortable Keith had looked the entire conversation.

"Well," Pidge answered, looking confident, "if Lance went to bed at 2:30 and woke up at 5:30, when Coran gets up normally, then he's currently running on like, three hours sleep max."

"No. No he's not," Keith replied, turning his gaze to the ceiling.

"What? No, Pidge's math is correct-" Allura started.

"Lance didn't stay in bed until 5:30," Keith bit out. He looked up then, locking eyes with Hunk. "I couldn't sleep. Lance found me in the training deck at 4:30. He challenged me to a spar, and I didn't go to bed until 5:30."

They all sat in silence, processing.

Pidge huffed quietly after a minute. "Fucking dumbass," she hissed.

"Pidge!" Allura reprimanded.

"No," Pidge returned. "He gets us all to get our heads out of our asses and assigns us a mental health day, knowing full well that he's operating on two hours of sleep after sparring with Keith?! No offense, man, but you're exhausting after eight hours sleep."

Keith shrugged in agreement. "None taken."

"And what all'd he do? Laundry, castle start up, breakfast-"

"He fixed my door," Keith offered. Pidge nodded in thanks.

"-he fixed Keith's door, everything that the entire team could be doing. We're Voltron! We've taken down Robeasts and monsters! Hell, we took down fucking Zarkon." Pidge looked over. "But we can't take care of our laundry without one of us nearly killing themselves?"

"This can't keep happening," Hunk whispered. The rest of his teammates nodded.

"We need to do better than this. We can't be a team if we're relying on one person to carry us when we aren't in battle. It's not fair to Coran, and it's not fair to Shiro or Lance."

"Voltron fell apart," Allura murmured. "Lance gave us what we need to fix it. We have to fix it now, before we do anything else."

"What do you have in mind, Princess?" Coran asked.

Allura grinned. "I think another rest day is in order."

Shiro

Shiro sat on the couch adjacent to his family, watching them heal themselves, watching them learn how to be a team-no, a family-again.

A tear dripped down his face. It wasn't alone. He didn't mind them.

They had a movie day the next day, all six of them sprawled on or near the middle couch in a tangle of laughter and comfort. Shiro joined, taking up his usual perch next to Hunk on the couch.

The first movie, Shiro could see the unspoken emptiness in their minds, the gap that he was supposed to be filling. He pursed his lips, unsure of what to do.

He settled on leaning through Hunk's head, pressing a hand on Lance's shoulder.

"I'm so proud of you all," he whispered fiercely. "So, so proud."

Lance sucked in a small breath.

"Hey guys," he said softly. The others turned his way. "Shiro'd be proud of us."

"What makes you say that?" Pidge asked. "Not that I disagree, or anything."

"I don't know. Just a feeling."

Shiro drew his legs up, crossing his legs and placing his hands in his lap as the movie played on. He was at peace.

His team was back. They weren't lost. They were going to be fine. It didn't matter if Shiro couldn't reach most of his team; they didn't need him to worry about him.

All he needed to focus on now was getting back to

Aw yay some fluff!

I'm not totally sure I like anything in tis chapter? Like I like it, but I also thought it would come out a bit better.

Idk.

Did I write Lance in a tie-dye sweatshirt because I practically live in mine?

Yup. I regret nothing.

I'm going to try and stay more on top of things for the rest of these updates, so hopefully this never happens again. I really really appreciate all of you who have stuck with this and have left some love- you truly make my day with every kind comment or kudos. You all are amazing.

Let me know if the wait was worth it (I know this was definitely not my best update but I've also always wanted to say that don't me)

I'll see you next chapter!

Peasant out:)