Hi sorry this is so late! Voltron is actually not my main fandom, so interest comes and goes, so having the energy to write this comes and goes more infrequently than my other fics. This is only going to have one more chapter though (two if I feel like adding a pointless smut chapter). My other excuse is that this chapter is annoyingly long. I decided what goes into each chapter and didn't want to just split this one into two chapters because it would Feel Wrong.

Warning for panic attacks at the end.


To his utter amazement, Shiro found himself messaging Coran often over the next week, even swapping contact details because a WhatsApp notification wasn't strange at all, really. Not compared to trying to discreetly use the mobile version of a sugar daddy website. There was probably some poor IT bastard who had to monitor what everyone was using the uni WiFi for and Shiro just wanted to make their life that bit easier.

He found himself messaging Coran before class, during his lunch breaks, well into the night and even in lectures when he thought he could get away with it. Once, his lecturer, Ulaz, did catch him, and Shiro only just covered Matt's mouth before he blurted out who Shiro was talking to. Though Shiro did eventually find out Matt was just pretending. He'd never actually do something as ghastly as shout out that Shiro had an ironic sugar daddy to the entire lecture hall. Surely.

When he found himself in the library, late at night and stuck on an assignment, he'd see if Coran had left him any new messages. Sometimes he ended up talking about the work with him. He did worry the man would find it tedious, since he'd already done his PHD and post-grad work was probably basic as hell for him, but Coran seemed genuinely interested and wanted to help. Not do the work for him, mind, just point him in the right direction.

Shiro became more and more amazed at how much they had in common, and how well they got along.

Shiro didn't consider himself a particularly silly person, but he still liked to have fun and Coran could be absolutely hilarious… most of the time, actually. Some of the jokes went over his head, because Coran was just so eccentric, and Shiro didn't understand Kiwi humour, but he didn't mind.

What shocked him the most was that there was actual chemistry between them. The age difference still threw him, and it was there in the back of his mind, but it didn't affect him enough to not think about Coran in a playful, potentially romantic sense. They flirted, both jokingly and a little more seriously and, yes, sometimes exchanged shirtless photos.

Oh, and another thing Shiro had not been expecting: Coran was fucking shredded. Not ridiculously over the top, and not as broad as Shiro, but the guy looked after his body, to say the least.

So they were physically and mentally compatible. Fantastic! And to think this has all started as a joke.

Coran's three children consisted of his stepdaughter Allura, and two younger boys he'd adopted some years ago he only referred to as Lance and Hunk. Coran used to give guest lectures at Shiro's university, so Allura was actually a fresher there; maybe he'd even seen her walking about the campus. Even though she was his stepdaughter, he couldn't help but imagine a girl with frizzy ginger hair and a moustache. Yeah, that probably wasn't what she looked like. The two boys were in college, apparently, one learning engineering, the other on a drama course. Shiro wished them the best.

The kids were still relatively detached in his mind. Coran clearly cared about them, more than anyone else in the world, and Shiro could certainly understand that. But right now, he couldn't see himself being a part of their life. Not in the near future, at any rate. Maybe meeting them would be too weird for him.

Honestly, even the concept of going to the same uni as the girl whose dad he was dating was weirding him out.

Coran had mentioned his husband a few times, what he'd been like and his little habits, but nothing about how he died. Shiro knew it wasn't his place to ask, and it might never even be his place to know.

He just hoped this Alfor guy died peacefully.


"Are you gonna eat that?" asked Matt, jolting him from a daydream.

"Whut?"

Matt responded by stealing one of his nuggets. "Christ, you really got it bad for this guy, huh?"

"No," he mumbled into his turtleneck. Well, he might have, but McDonalds wasn't really the place to discuss it.

"What guy is this anyway?" asked Thace from across the table. "I keep hearing about this new man of yours but no one's telling me anything." He said it with a genuine smile, and Shiro wondered if he should fess up to his drunken sugar dating saga.

Matt and Slav turned to Shiro.

"I met him online," he explained simply.

Thace threw him a knowing look. "Aw, that's really sweet man. What does he study?"

Matt and Slav exchanged unreadable glances.

"He doesn't go to uni."

"Oh?"

"He's… older."

"Oh? Like 30?"

"About forty… five," Shiro all but squeaked the last part.

To his surprise, Thace nodded understandingly. "I get it. You've finally snapped under the workload and pressure and have decided dating a serial killer will help you achieve the sweet release of death."

"Actually, no." Did that really sound like something he'd do? Probably. "I just really like him."

"This guy is probably a serial killer," okay, now Thace was looking at him like he was mad, "you know that, right?"

"He's not!"

"How do you know?"

Shiro scowled. "I just do, okay?"

Thankfully, Thace seemed unwilling to argue further. "Just trying to look out for you. What's his name anyway?"

"Coran?"

"Quaint. Got a picture?"

"Sure." Maybe Shiro should've paid more attention to exactly what he'd pulled up in his gallery, but he felt under enough pressure as it is, Thace's gaze boring into him. He just held out his phone with a huff, and at his friend's low whistle finally realised he'd probably not picked the picture he wanted.

"Oh my," Thace's eyebrows shot up. "Do you have a clothed picture?"

Matt and Slav were up in an instant, scrambling round the table with a scraping of chairs to get a good look. Unfortunately, Shiro wasn't quite fast enough to pull his phone away, and even the granny walking past got an eyeful. She didn't seem to be complaining though.

"Oh damn," Matt gave a whistle, "you didn't tell me he was sculpted!"

Shiro wanted to disappear. He wanted someone to kidnap him or a sinkhole to open up under his chair. For a brief moment, he even wanted Coran to be a serial killer.

"Here's… here's what he looks like with a shirt on," he just said instead, voice and soul cracking.

"Nice moustache," Thace commented, "I can't believe I only just noticed. He probably wants to keep you in a dungeon."

"If being trapped in a dungeon means I never have to look any of you in the eye again, then so be it."

Matt raised an eyebrow. "Kinky."

"Oh, have you met up with him?" asked Thace.

"Not yet, no."

"You know to be safe right?" he asked, "only meet up in a public place. Want me to come along with you just to be safe?"

Shiro smiled. "Well, I'd pick you over these two clowns, but I should be fine with just meeting in public, right?"

"So you want to meet him then?" asked Slav.

"Aww," cooed Matt, "you want to go on a date with him!"

Shiro tried his best to stare Matt down, but the guy just grinned. "Maybe I do. So what? That's normal, right?"

Matt buried him in a hug, rocking him from side to side and 'aww'-ing like an excited highschooler. And stealing another chicken nugget when he thought Shiro wasn't looking.

"Don't worry about a thing, bro," he assured him, "we'll make sure you're ready for this future date."

"Yes, you'll look so good it's certain this man will like you even more!" exclaimed Slav.

Shiro raised an eyebrow. "Slav, you've worn pyjamas to every class for the past three years. I'm really not prepared to take any presentation advice from you." He paused. "I'd love some help though."


And so, when, two weeks later, Coran asked if they wanted to meet up, Shiro felt somewhat ready to go on his first real date in a year. And just to make sure, he'd actually double-checked with Coran that they were actually dating.

Cutty Sark seemed an appropriate place as any. Shiro only needed to get a (free!) shuttle bus, and for Coran it was a simple train journey. In the shadow of the great ship, he waited. A chilly November wind had set in, but the place was still bustling with tourists and students and he wondered if anyone recognised him.

That would be great, having a classmate see him on a date with an older man.

Or maybe he didn't care.

Fuck it. Coran was a great guy! And Shiro was certain they'd have fun together. He honestly doubted any of his friends from class or rugby would care – they knew he preferred guys and had openly dated men before. No one in Coran's age bracket but that was irrelevant. And if they made jokes about it? Well they'd all be hard-pressed to find one Matt hadn't already made.

And Shiro had a sense of humour. Allegedly.

He had talked to Coran so much, and knew so much about him, he hoped it would be an easy transition from screen to real life. Or it could be awkward. He decided not to think of that possibility. Things would go smoothly. Why wouldn't they?

People were everywhere, but, thankfully, no eyes were on him as he sat on a bench by himself. Not with a massive ship to distract all attention. People took photos of it from the ground, of each other on the deck, or even of the scenery across the Thames. Somewhere the other side of Cutty Sark, someone was playing guitar. None of the food stalls seemed to have been set up that day, so Shiro was stuck waiting in the cold for Coran before he could finally get his fifth coffee of the day.

He chewed at his lip as he waited. Where was Coran? The guy was twenty minutes late. Shiro wondered if he'd missed him. He didn't normally get anxious, but what if Coran was on the other side of the ship? Or waiting outside the pub and couldn't see him? He should get up and look. But what if Coran did the same? What if the two of them kept walking in circles, just missing each other?

Shiro groaned and buried his head in his hands.

"Shiro?"

He glanced up.

There was absolutely no mistaking that moustache, even without Coran's customary smile.

"Coran?"

He was far more handsome in real life. There was just no other way around it: no matter how many photographs they exchanged, it just didn't capture the sparkle in his eyes, the kindness that resonated throughout his entire expression. His shoulders were gentle and his entire posture wracked with nerves, playing with his hands before wrapping them around his back. He chuckled sheepishly.

"Are you okay?" he asked, "something wrong?"

Coran smiled. "Oh nothing! I'm just always late. Bit of a scatterbrain, so I'm told." His grin was slightly apologetic as he checked his phone, then gone in an instant. "Oh. That's late even for me. Fuck I'm so sorry!"

"Hey, it's fine!" said Shiro, "you're here now." He wondered if it was appropriate to go up and hug him, then remembered he'd seen a grainy picture of the guy's dick so should probably just wing it.

Not that it mattered, because Coran was now hugging him!

"It's fantastic to meet you at last," he exclaimed, his moustache ticking Shiro's neck. "It's so weird, liking someone that much and never seeing them."

Shiro smiled warmly as he hugged back – it didn't matter to him who saw – arms wrapped around his back. So, he was just as earnest in real life then. "Yeah, glad you're here now. Really glad."

"So," Coran pulled away, placing an awkward kiss on his cheek, "I was thinking I could take you out to lunch. Um, I wasn't sure what you wanted to do, or if you have – erm – class later, so I didn't really make any plans beyond that."

"Lunch sounds good," Shiro, as an afterthought, gave him an awkward nudge; "don't worry, I'm free all day."


"So yeah, I picked London for the museums, and my brother Ryou picked Oslo for some reason. So I come back a more intelligent, well-rounded individual, and he comes back with a fake Norwegian accent, insisting we all call him Sven. Still he's finding out a lot about another culture, and I assume the Norwegians are finding him to be quite the annoying bellend."

Coran laughed before taking a sip of champagne, eyes twinkling. The two of them were sat in the nicest restaurant Shiro had ever been in, one that probably didn't have chicken strips on the menu, not even under the name goujons.

"Oh it gets better," Shiro had to laugh too, "my flatmate, Slav, started a conspiracy group with my friend Keith and they were arguing over which edgy cult name they were gonna use. Keith wanted the Blade of Marmora, and Slav thought the Guns of Gamora was cooler."

"I like Blade of Marmora," said Coran with a smile.

Shiro laughed then winced, "so do I, mostly because the other one is what my brother named his runescape party. I've never been so scared, not since I first walked into Matt's dorm to say hi to my new flatmate, saw his collection of anime girl figurines, and walked back out. Anyway, one Christmas, fucking Sven brings home his boyfriend, and my suspicions were confirmed."

Coran giggled. "Slav?"

"Oh yes. They'd been online dating for a year or so. I asked about how they met, and it was on omegle." Coran zipped his hand over his head. Ah, right, forty-five years old. "It's an anonymous chat site, and sometimes there's webcams."

"Oh," Coran's eyebrows shot up.

"Yes, exactly. And they just had to confirm that, yes, they'd shown each other their cocks. Apparently they consider that their first date."

The elderly socialite over on the next table glared at them, Coran just snorted.

"I'm sure my boys have seen worse on the internet," he sighed.

Shiro smiled. "Right, your kids, tell me about them!"

Coran smiled, "sure thing! You'd love them. Allura was my husband's daughter, feisty little thing, she was, but really polite too. Total princess. She was three when Alfor and I met, with this fat braid of hair and a little smile. We adopted the boys a few years into the marriage, thought it was the right thing to do. Well, Hunk's parents were family friends and when they passed there was no way we weren't going to take him in." His eyes gazed past him, far away. "And he settled in fantastically so we decided to have another. When we first met Lance, he toddled right over to us and tried to play-fight me. Lovely kid. They're both wonderful young men now." He jumped slightly. "Oh fucking- oh dear, I was rambling again!"

"No, no, it's fine!" Shiro reached a hand over the table and rested it on Coran's, "I like hearing you talk. Doesn't matter if it's about your kids or butterflies or work, I wanna hear what you have to say." Did he sound clingy? Or silly?

Coran just smiled at him like he was the most beautiful man alive.

Shiro smiled sheepishly and just went back to his pork.


"I'm a big boy; you didn't have to walk me home," Shiro stroked the top of Coran's arm, "sweet of you though."

In the distance, an alarm went off and sirens wailed. Coran glanced over his shoulder nervously. "It's the gentlemanly thing to do." Well, it was official Coran was the biggest sweetheart in the universe. Shiro had first wondered if giving notes to every homeless person they came across had just been some trick to get him to like Coran more, but the guy did seem to be genuinely generous, and took pride in going out of his way to be nice to people.

"Well I appreciate it," Shiro did. He was a grown man but the neighbourhood scared him at night; he liked having someone to walk home with. But it was the cheapest place in London three students with part-time jobs could get, and even then it was just the top half of the house they lived in. He was pretty sure the ground floor flat was a brothel, but the old lady and her 'daughters' were nice enough. And could bake fantastic weed brownies. "What about you though?"

Coran laughed and raised his fists jokingly. "Oh, any ruffians won't know what hit 'em when I give them the old Quentin's Fist!"

Shiro took a moment to process that Coran had actually referred to knife-wielding teenagers as 'ruffians' and wonder just what 'Quentin's Fist' was. Was it worth asking? He just smiled instead.

"It was really nice meeting you," he said, "I'd, um, I'd like to do it again sometime. You know, if you want."

"I do, I very much do!" He beamed, twirling his moustache meekly. "I- you're very handsome, you know?"

"So are you." Shiro's hand found itself on the top of Coran's arm and he decided to take a risk: kissing his cheek. Again, he'd seen the guy's hairy ginger balls, but it felt weird in real life, like he was paranoid he'd misread every sign and signal somehow. He went for it though, and Coran's face was rough and prickly, and tickled a bit, but it was a face he could soon grow used to kissing.

When he pulled away, he glanced at Coran's eyes, and was trapped. They were pale, almost lilac, and wise. But most of all, they were staring at him hungrily, and before either of them knew it, they were kissing.

It was one step after chaste, and Shiro lingered on his lips, smiling into his moustache. They both seemed to be trying to discreetly feel each other's arm muscles, and he snorted at the realisation.

There was a tapping at the window, and Shiro sprang back to see Matt and Slav waving down from the front window, laughing and giving him the wanker sign. Shiro groaned.

"I'll see you sometime," he told Coran.

"I'm going to see a play next week," he suggested, "a comedy. Would you like to join me for an evening out?"

"Yeah, sounds great! We could go for drinks after;" Shiro decided it was best to ignore the continued banging on the glass. Just like he ignored them every other time they were being wankers.

"Your friends appear to be dry-humping each other," Coran commented.

"Just pretend they're not there; it's what I do. I'd invite you in but things are gonna get a bit bloody, so safe journey and I'll talk to you later, about specifics." He kissed Coran's cheek again to spite his friends, then the guy left.

Shiro watched him go with a smile, then went inside to throttle whoever was slowest out of Matt and Slav.


Soho at night was a surreal experience. On the one hand, Shiro was slightly tipsy, so everything was slowing down, and slightly magical with all the Christmas lights. On the other hand, he was also slightly scared of the people around him. They all seemed slightly insane.

He was having a fantastic time though, arm in Coran's because, well, it was Soho and at least they weren't blowing each other in an alley. Not that he'd mind, besides the general germs found outside and the possibility of strangers seeing. Not that he was ashamed of Coran, he just wasn't into extreme PDA or getting his cock out in public.

"What the hell was that play?" he said with a laugh.

"'The End of Hope'?"

"You know, when I think of plays, Wilde and Shakespeare come to mind, not a lady dressed as a mouse having sex. Very funny though."

Coran laughed. "Just so you know, I didn't accidentally kill my husband by shoving a marrow down his throat in a roleplay gone wrong."

Shiro would've considered whether or not it was inappropriate to laugh, had he not burst out laughing. Coran didn't seem to mind though. "Good to know! I feel very at ease now. Oh, that place looks like!" He nodded over at a little trendy bar on the corner. It was fairly crowded, but not unbearably so.

Coran considered it. For a little longer than necessary. "Right-o! Onwards we go!" He couldn't tell if the guy was just being weirder when he was drunk, or if something was genuinely wrong and he was just putting on a front, so he just followed Coran into the bar and ordered a pint.

"Are you alright?" he shouted over the noise when they'd sat down. Coran was opposite him, sat at their stupidly tiny table in a worn armchair and glancing around nervously. He jumped at Shiro's voice.

"Quite alright, thanks," he tried to smile, then tried to focus on his lager, which he downed in one go. Shiro was a student, and even he thought that might be a bit extreme. He just sipped his own pint slowly, keeping an eye on him and fidgeting on his stool. The - admittedly tiny - idiot part of his brain wondered if Coran actually killed his husband.

"Is it a bit too noisy?" he asked instead. Coran shook his head.

"Are you lying to me?"

He scowled. "That is none of your business!"

"You seem a little upset," Shiro, reached his hand across the table, but Coran withdrew his own. He got the picture, and didn't try to touch him.

"Oh do I? It's nothing. I'm fine. Don't worry, my dear!" His face shone with sweat, and Shiro could guess why. He knew the signs. "Everything is fine!"

Shiro finished his beer because he'd paid £4.75 for it, then guided Coran out of the bar. However, the cold night air and relative quiet just seemed to make things worse. He was still sweating, leaning heavily on Shiro's shoulder as he struggled to breathe. Shiro rubbed his back gently, leading him off to a quiet corner to calm him down, and settling on the doorway of a closed restaurant. As he pulled Coran into a hug, the man clung to him, trembling and breathing heavily onto his neck.

The two of them stood there in silence, Shiro ignoring the sounds and occasional jeers of passers-by, Coran flinching and jumping at them all. Shiro just whispered words of comfort to him, stroking his hair. It was okay. I'm here for you. Just take all the time you need. It'll be fine. I've got you. You're safe.

Eventually, Coran gave a sniff. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so- so sorry you have- you have to see me like this."

"Shh, shh, it's fine," Shiro gave him a squeeze, "don't be sorry. I- I understand." Oh God he understood. "You have nothing to be ashamed of."

Coran looked at him for the first time; "please- please, Shiro. Take me home."


I thought he could adopt Lance and Hunk in this au, since they're the paladins he's closest to. Besides Shiro, oy. Alright it's not canon but could. you. fucking. imagine.

The End of Hope is a fantastically funny play that I'm guessing no one here has seen because y'all aren't boring, pretentious nerds doing playwriting at uni. But yeah I had to see that one as part of my assignment and it was hilarious, and I got to hang out with my classmates and go for drinks! It probably doesn't sound like a lot, but I struggle to make friends due to being a colossal cunt with no people skills.

I doubt the next chapter will be stupidly long, so, with any luck, not take so long to finish. Please.

Also fun fact: I had my first kiss at Cutty Sark.

Oh, I didn't mention it before, but the title comes from 'Moustache' by Twin twin.